Sasuke looked around him, calculating and strategizing. The odds weren't good, but he could still make it out. Probably not unscathed, but he could survive. He may be one of the strongest, but the numbers were against him and unlike usual, the enemy seemed to all be fairly capable of fighting against him.
Sasuke's arm had a long gash down it and he tried to not think about the pain there every time he moved it. He was thankful that Naruto and Sakura had talked him into getting a prosthetic arm. He'd never needed as much as he needed it now.
There were moments in his life – more when he was younger but they still happened – where Sasuke thought that him dying wouldn't be such a horrible thing. It wasn't even about suicidal missions and sacrifices. But he'd always felt that dying for a cause was something honorable. As another kunai flew past his ear, he wondered if dying here would bring any honor back to his name.
Pieces of earth were hurled at him, one large piece clipping his shoulder. He hit the ground and saw a flash of blue eyes behind his closed lids. Naruto. With a pained gasp, he rose back to his feet and aimed a swift kick at the man hurdling himself at him. No. He could still remember the blonde idiot shyly telling him he'll miss him while he was away on his mission. Shuriken struck his arm and he forced himself to not cry out in any pain. Do not show weakness. He wasn't going to die here. He had something to fight for. Someone he'd fight tooth and nail to get back to.
Be safe, Sasuke. Yes, he'd make it back. Or die trying.
Sasuke woke up groggily and the first thing he saw was Naruto's head resting on his bedside. He felt a relief wash over him when he laid his eyes on him. He'd made it back.
There was a pain in his arm when he moved it, but he reached out to stroke his fingers through Naruto's hair anyways. Naruto almost instantly woke up and peeked up at him. He smiled at him and relaxed underneath his gaze. Then, he sighed as his eyes fell back shut. "Welcome home, Sasuke."
Sasuke slowly realized as he looked at him that maybe his cause had shifted over the years. What he would be dying for and who he would be fighting for.