Tsunade was well informed and prepared for the Uchiha's arrival so the sight of the dead body on his back and the severed head in his hand wasn't surprising. Three Anbu stood at his side and behind. The Hokage took in the haggard look of who was once Konoha's finest and resented herself for the pity she felt. Sasuke was tired and from the bowed head and sagging shoulders she could see that this was his surrender. She stood from her seat glancing at the Anbu and nodding a dismissal. At their departure Sasuke shifted just enough to shrug his brother off of him to land sloppily in the seat behind him before dropping to his knees. Tsunade was at his side in a heartbeat feeding chakra into his exhausted form and he was thankful for the lessening pain that accompanied every breath.

"Welcome home Sasuke."

She should have been waiting for him. She sat at her dining table staring blankly into the cooling cup of green tea in her hands and wondered why she was home. She should be at the hospital working beside her mentor to heal the man she had waited for for so long. She had come home to change at first; wanting to look her best. She rushed home feeling a nostalgic euphoria of the childhood crush that never faded. But then she was struck by a sudden realization. She paused, pink dress with yellow trim in hand, and wondered what the hell she was doing. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror hanging on the open closet door, the sundress held in front of her and the excitement faded. Her pink hair held back and the leaf village symbol shining bright in the light cascading from the window. The dress dropped fluttering to rest on the tops of her feet. He had pushed her away. He stepped around her like she had been nothing. All these years and nothing had changed? All the waiting? All the dreaming? She never failed to ask her blond teammate if his latest quarry had been her long lost love and the reply (or lack thereof) had always been the same. It had become a sado/masochistic ritual of constant loss and disappointment. After a while it was like getting out of bed in the morning even though you have nowhere to go; done because it was expected. She knew she was hurting him and she didn't care. If she hurt then so should he. But somewhere along the way the pain stopped. Life took its place. Training to be both shinobi and medic nin was double the hassle and she really didn't have time to dwell on what once was. She focused all she had on her future which she accepted did not involve the raven. Somehow she was just fine with that. She looked down at the dress wiggling her toes against the lace and couldn't help but to laugh. Honestly she hated that damned dress. It was uncomfortable and the lace chaffed her skin. But she was beautiful in it. At least the blond had told her that once upon a time that seemed so long ago. At the thought of him her eyes turned somber. She kneeled down and picked up the dress by the hanger fingering the yellow trim that was dulled slightly by dust on the floor. She wiped at the material only to find that she was making the stain worse and the bright yellow faded. The sun always shined in Konoha.

Well… it used to.

Steam filled the shower and the hot water rained down scalding the scalp beneath the cornflower strands. One hand braced against the wall, the other hung limp at his side holding a wash cloth that wouldn't be used. The last pink died swirl of water danced down the drain and he was clean enough. He flicked off the shower and stepped out bypassing the towels and glancing in the mirror. To tell the truth he always hated his hair. One more thing that made it more difficult to blend. He opened the medicine cabinet with a thoughtful head tilt and a lift of a golden brow he couldn't help but wonder….

The Raven was waiting. He was certain without any reasonable doubt that he would come. His assessment was done and he was pronounced healthy, sane and able to leave within an hour. It had been five hours since their eyes met. Five hours, seventeen minutes and however many seconds to be most exact. Now, after the initial shock, incredulity and confusion had boiled down he was raving mad. All of the hunting, all of the fighting, the trauma at the Valley of the End and he wasn't even spared a backward glance. Not a punch, or shove or even a glare. He was accepted wholeheartedly with just a light slap on the wrist. "Probation" they called it. He was not to leave the village without an escort and he had an eleven o'clock curfew that if broken was punishable by chakra restrictions and imprisonment. He was disappointed to learn that after all the shit that went down all he had to suffer was a fucking teenage grounding. "Pussies." That was the sentiment he uttered none too gently as he had been escorted from before the council. He could feel the practically orgasmic joy dripping off them at having their prodigal son back. The last Uchiha was back in town, let the streamers fly. He hopped down off the hospital bed ripping the gown from his body and forcing his clothing on with jerky, angry movements. Tsunade handed him a bottle of pills for the migraines needlessly dictating the instructions printed on the bottle. With a curt nod and a mumble of thanks he left the hospital. He needed to head home to the cold and dusty Uchiha district and prepped himself for the dreaded flood of memory. He had much on his plate. He had a debriefing scheduled in the morning and he knew he'd need all his strength and attention to reiterate everything that happened over the past three years. He needed to cleanse his home of cobwebs and ghosts of the past. He needed to plan a proper funeral for the last member of his family who died by his own hand. Last but not least, he had a lot of groveling to do to an old friend. He stopped midstep in the center of the road and frowned heavily. Was friend even the proper word to use now? Was he worthy of it? He glanced up taking in his surroundings seeing the ridiculous smiles on the faces of people he couldn't name. He would have preferred distain. The celebratory joy at his return was wrong in every possible way. The greetings were coming. The handshakes, the pats on the back and the greedy hugs of breast bearing girls were on the way and he couldn't stand the thought of it. He didn't want to go home but he would. After a quick stop of course. There was a quick sensation of confusion when he realized that the village was not exactly as he left it which made him feel stupid. Of course things change. Yet he was pleased to see that many things stayed the same. He climbed the steps of the familiar, dingy apartment complex and steeled himself as he stood before a heavily scratched and repeatedly painted over door. The high gloss finish of the black paint covered but didn't hide the angry scratches of words like "demon" and "murderer". Pale fingers traced the scratches and he realized he was stalling. But he didn't have a choice in stalling further as the abused door slowly swung open. Dread, apprehension, excitement, and something else choked him and then he was angry and then confused.

"Dobe what the fuck did you do to your hair?"

One hell of a greeting after years of antagonism.