Sasuke moved deliberately, he didn't rush his progression to Konoha.
He knew Madara would surely take his time there; the things he had yet to gather would be fiercely protected. He knew many would die in order to spare Naruto's life, to any other man resistance would be futile but if he could give credit to his native land for anything, it was their unwavering resolve to defend those like them, their comrades, friends and colleagues. The will of fire; perhaps it never truly left Sasuke, just evolved into some sick depiction of confused and misdirected hate.
He didn't dare run. He had thoughts to collect, chakra to regenerate, wounds to mend and a plan to formulate. He was aware that every second that passed, more life would be lost, but that battle was not on him. Those casualties weren't engraved on his consciousness. They were not his responsibility.
His responsibility was simply to his brother, the memory of him. His brother so loved Konoha, he murdered his entire family save for himself in order to protect a home he would never call home again. A part of him felt indebted to protect that home, not because he loved Konoha. Not because he hated his family, not because he felt a particular obligation to. He went there to garner his last grain of revenge, and to purchase that revenge, KOnoha would be protected by his hand for once. In hopes to clear the red from the ledger of his life, the Hell he had created. He thought the fall of Madara would more than adequately clear out that red, that unspoken debt he owed to so many. That was his swan song; Debts are paid and balances are zero.
He always had a grudge, a rather large axe to grind over the injustices he selfishly dwelled upon. An old dog could learn new tricks, but it surely wouldn't forget the old.
His brother's blood stained his hands. Blood shed not just to appease the want his psyche demanded of him, but blood shed to spare the man who'd killed his own family on an order. With Itachi's death, they were both granted a false peace.
The absurdity of it all astounded him.
He questioned his brother's intentions, he questioned the place he called home as a boy, he silently questioned every face in that town that had smiled at him and paid condolences to his fallen family.
This is where the conflict set in. For the first time in his life, Sasuke was unable to place blame anywhere.
Did he blame his family for wanting to overthrow the leaders of Konoha?
Did he blame his brother for fulfilling his duty as a sworn protector of Konoha?
Did he blame the council and the Hokage for issuing the order to kill his family?
Did he blame himself for killing his brother, the very man who single handedly exterminated their family alike?
There were so many questions.
Questions he would never get answers to, and there was nothing he could do to change this. These answers, long dead in the decomposing matter of the various parties involved.
Breaking from his reverie, he looked down and noticed his hands were visibly shaking. External manifestations of anxiety had never shown on Uchiha Sasuke until now, he thought it odd but pressed on. He deemed he would reach Konoha in six hours given he kept his leisurely pace. He was more than capable of running; his endurance was formidable but something told him he didn't want to be the first attendee at his own funeral.
To Sasuke, Madara was more of an ideal than a person. He wanted to create peace using death and submission. It was strangely similar in thought to his own mantra of existence; he craved death, excellence and submission in order to give himself peace. Perhaps he started shaking when he realized that he and Madara were not that different.
Sasuke acknowledged to himself, that if he hadn't met his brother, revived by a bastard jutsu, he would be at Madara's right, laying siege to his home just the same.
Madara had told him the truth well after the young man claimed Itachi's life. That truth left him on the door step of physical illness and taking his own life. He told him Konoha betrayed the Uchihas, that Itachi carried out his duties as a shinobi of Konoha, and that the entire nation was corrupt and needed to be exterminated. When there was no more of the lesson to be taught, he realized he had done the unthinkable and not even death would welcome him. He would be damned a wraith to live in purgatory for the rest of eternity. There would be no father or mother waiting for him when the last breath of air left his body, there would only be nothingness, non-matter, non-existence and absolute zero.
For him to hear the motives, for him to hear the very words and the emotion coming out of his own brother's mouth, it didn't lay tracks to rage, it gave him a sliver of peace. It was unfortunate and cruel his brother was not able to receive peace in death, he was raised from the grave as a tool, but for Sasuke, as the younger brother of Uchiha Itachi, he thanked Kabuto in a sick and perverse way. Wordlessly, they put to rest the grudge of decades, the consommé of hate that had been festering in his gut for years.
When he fought along side his brother, not against, to draw arms with the man he held in such high regard as a child, the man he wanted to be when he grew up; that singular battle gave him deliverance. In a way he was very much like Itachi, but Sasuke was much more of a coward admittedly.
Perhaps, if Sasuke knew the truth, his mantra of vengeance would have been misdirected. He would have risen against Konoha which would have further sullied his brother's dreams and wishes. Perhaps it was better that things worked out this way. He was still a man of his word and promise, his brother was dead, Kabuto was dead, and Madara would be dead… in time. He paled when he realized so much of his identity was fused so profoundly with death and the act of taking life.
Onward he marched, the Prodigal Son returning to the home he shunned for all the wrong reasons. Returning to the birthplace of the bonds he so freely severed without question, bonds that were never intended for him to break.
He didn't know what would await him at the gates of Konohagakure. Hell on earth; fire and brimstone and sulfur. Slowly, a will and fire, long dead and dormant, rose up in the depths of his once dead heart. He had no option of failure. His brother loved this land and Sasuke assisted it its undoing, he would be more than damned if he failed to stop this, failed to do anything. If he sat idly by and let his home concede to hell.
When his eyes met the long forgotten, familiar gates all he saw was fire touching the sky. He sighed heavily and proceeded on.
For the first time in his miserable, self-righteous existence, he questioned himself.
