been a lil while, but this was a p fun chap to write!

some chars in this might seem drastically ooc, all I'm gonna say about that is that war can change a lot about people…

there's also some talk about what's going on with world politics in this chap, it's cynical of me, but I just can't see everything being 100% hunky dory after so much history, so things might look a little bleak, but dw there isn't gonna be another war or anything like that, I just wanted to have the huge changes the world is going through to be a little more gradual and natural

also kinda off-topic, but any of yall heard the song Lion's Den by Jahmeel? I only just realised that daaaamn it's just.. Exactly how I like to hc/write sauce (and he's also just a great artist in gen totally recommend), you can probably just take it as this fic's theme song tbh

(my writing alpha is p busy with life stuff rn, so you'll have to cope with my piss-poor proofreading. sorry bout that)

Enjoy!

He'd been managing to put it off for weeks now, but he'd finally run out of excuses and the willpower to resist.

"Well… here we are." Naruto's words were forced and deeply unsure, it was disturbingly unlike him.

Sasuke understood though. They all did.

The 'official' reunion of team seven had been a long time coming and the path to reach this point had been nothing but pain and fear and struggle, and it was entirely his fault. Sasuke had to wonder how things might've been if he hadn't been so weak, so stupid, so arrogant, so blind; would they have become an inseparable team, the way that he knew everyone else had wanted, would he be able to confidently call Naruto and Sakura his best friends – without the nagging thoughts stabbing into the back of his skull, telling him that he didn't deserve their friendship, didn't deserve to even be within ten yards of them, not after everything he'd put them through – would Kakashi be his trusted sensei, someone whose guidance he'd accept without reserve?

However many alternate realities there were, he doubted there'd be one more uncomfortable than the one he was living right now; sitting in near-total silence in a field, with the three people who understood him best, and yet not at all, the three people that he understood best, and yet not at all.

"Yeah," Sakura said, her eyes skittering between the three men, never landing on one face for more than a few seconds, before dropping back to the grass at her knees.

Even after all these years – and with the destruction of Konoha leaving so much changed – this place was exactly as he remembered it. He couldn't remember its real name, it had always just been 'their' training field, even though he knew logically that other teams must have also used it at some point.

The three wooden posts were still there, standing strong as ever, perhaps a little more worn down than they had been in his childhood, but he could still pick out scars that he himself had placed there; the dents and chips of hurled shuriken, a particularly deep chip where he'd once stabbed a kunai after his tenth failed attempt to reliably activate his sharingan; a faded blackened patch near the base of the one farthest to the right, a fire jutsu caught by an unexpected wind; the slight, horizontal gash of a tightly tied rope once struggled against…

Everything about this place cut deep into his mind, forcefully drudging up memories of a time when things had been easier, emotions he'd forgotten he was capable of tickling up and down his spine, but too feeble to truly grasp onto.

Perhaps it might've been better to just continue putting this off, for however long it took for Naruto to give up advocating for it.

So, three years at the very least, given his track record.

Kakashi's sigh was familiar at least, the same one that always used to follow one of his and Naruto's squabbles during dull, menial missions, or Sakura's frequent outbursts at her blond teammate's clumsy flirtations.

He couldn't begin to explain how that sigh was so comforting, but it really was; perhaps it was because it was the only thing of normalcy that he could cling on to, the lingering remnants of a life none of them could ever go back to.

"We're here," their sensei said, looking and sounding decades older than he was, "it's been a rough journey, but we're here."

Sakura snorted and muttered something under her breath, so quiet it was completely unintelligible, but she nodded anyway, as did Naruto.

Not wanting to seem uncooperative – even if that was exactly how he felt – Sasuke nodded too.

"I…" That sigh again, a tiny sliver of relief, in a situation that was already threatening to tear his still-fractured mind apart. "I know that I don't have any real right to say this, but… I'm so proud of you, all of you," he said, words spoken slowly, only after much deliberation, "I'm sorry I couldn't have been the teacher you all needed, no, deserved."

None of his students interrupted him, none of them cut in to stop his apologies, none of them tried to deny his claims, they just listened to a man on the verge of breaking down.

And that was all he was, really; a man, with unexpressed troubles and deep, crippling flaws, not the inhuman, perfect symbol of knowledge and power it had been so easy to build him up as in a child's mind.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, his single eye – even though he no longer had a sharingan to cover, Kakashi still wore his forehead protector in his usual style, Sasuke suspected that he'd spent so long using only one, that he couldn't really adjust to bifocal vision anymore – squeezed tightly shut. "Maybe if I'd been better, if I'd listened more, instead of wilfully insisting that I knew what was best for you, or taken action, when it was so much easier to pretend you'd be able to find the answers on your own…"

A harsh bark of laughter sliced through the air, sharper than any blade.

It was disconcerting to see Sakura so openly hostile, let alone to the teacher she had always seemed to respect. "Yeah," she said, voice dripping bitter poison, "you were never cut out to be a sensei."

Sasuke couldn't help the way he was staring, he'd known that she had changed, but to this extent? What baffled him even more, was the way that Naruto wasn't immediately leaping to his precious teacher's defence, he only sat quietly, even nodding just slightly – though his expression was conflicted.

"Your focus was always too narrow and you really screwed us over, especially me, but… you had your own shit to deal with and still cared enough to try, I'm grateful for that much, bad as you were at it."

He almost wanted to slap his hand over her mouth – even he knew that being so blunt about someone's faults directly to their face was entirely inappropriate – but his own uncertainty and Kakashi's ginger chuckle stayed his arm.

Even with so much of his face hidden, it had never been difficult to tell when his teacher was smiling. "I suppose I deserve that, I'm just glad that you've all become who you are, even without my help."

With a sharp nod from Sakura, all the unspoken pains and failures were accepted, though perhaps not quite forgiven yet – perhaps not ever. The arm slung heavily over her shoulder quickly lightened her expression.

"Hey, it wasn't all bad," Naruto said, a familiar grin crinkling his eyes, "remember all those fun times where we'd try and sneak a look at his face?"

Oh yeah. Those memories had been kept away for so long, that he could practically feel the dust clinging to his fingers as he carefully dragged them back out, but they came with a certain warmth. Times like that had been the few times he'd ever been allowed to act like the child he was, away from clutching memories and crushing expectations.

Naruto snickered slightly, his arm tightening around his friend's neck. "And honestly, I think if you'd ever gotten any real training from sensei, you'd have turned out even more terrifying than you are now-" he grunted at the elbow jabbing into his ribs, but still managed to speak through the hand smothering his face "-remember that second bell test? I think Kakashi actually thought he was gonna die for a second there-" at this point the pair were practically wrestling in the dirt, Naruto trying and failing not to laugh as the pink-haired girl weakly pinned him, poking at his cheeks and pulling his ears "-and then you went and punched a bunny goddess! That was so badass, you're so cool, man, Ino's gotta be the luckiest girl alive-"

"Oh my god, stop talking!" She was practically crying through her unashamed snorts.

Their teacher was sighing again, but he lent a – mostly useless – hand when Sakura started calling for backup.

And Sasuke could do nothing more than watch, mouth held into a firm line and brows lowered; a large part of him wished to drop his mask, join in their fun, but these were not the people he'd once known and he was not the person they'd once known.

He was already an interloper, a silent observer, lingering in the shadows – greedily soaking in their happiness, since he'd never reach it himself, trying vainly to ignore his fist tightening at the display – to force himself into this relationship would just be cruel, he had no place in this team, at least not right now. Maybe with much time and effort and attempts to rediscover each other, they could find a new dynamic, one that suited the people they'd become.

But not now.

Now, these people were owed at least this little solidarity. He would just have to be content to watch from the sidelines.

"That'll be two-hundred yen, please."

Sasuke absently handed the money over, inelegantly juggling the coins in his hand and the folded paper held firm between his stump and his side, not bothering to look at the shopkeeper for any longer than it took to nod and swiftly walk away from the stall.

It was strange going through purely legal channels to gather data, especially with regards to world politics, where motivations were cards held close to the chest, secrets were kept better guarded than any daimyo's gold and plans were intricately woven tapestries, tracing a single thread from the greater whole a task ninja spent decades training for.

For anyone to be publishing such information publicly would've been unthinkable just a few months ago, let alone some of the most powerful nations in the known world.

He wondered how much more things might change in the coming years, if this was the new norm.

Reaching a secluded, wooded area of the park, he sat down and started to read; he would've preferred to stay at home, but Naruto had passed along an order from Sakura – who still avoided being alone with him as much as she could, perfectly understandable as far as he was concerned – that he was looking unusually pale and tired and he needed to get out in the sun more.

It was only because of Naruto's insistence on hammering on his door at five am every, single, morning to remind him, that he'd actually taken up the advice. It was either that, or put up with the blond pestering him to get out for an hour with the kind of loud, obnoxious, incessant wall of noise that only Naruto was capable of. The neighbours hadn't appreciated the disturbances any more than he had.

He'd finally relented after the tenth day, on the condition that his friend was absolutely not to come with him.

Thankfully, he'd happily agreed, though he'd taken to staying in Sasuke's apartment for the designated hour, just in case he tried to pull a fast one on him.

And, he hated to admit it, but his daily excursions had actually become an enjoyable disruption to his dull, empty, repetitive life; for a short time, he could let his mind wander free of the claustrophobic walls of his home, focus on simpler things, like the slow growth of trees and shrubbery along his usual routes, or the ever-shifting social structures of the local children.

On the seventh day, he'd noticed for the first time the man selling newspapers and magazines, only a few blocks from his place.

It had been a complete whim to pick one up – the fact that the leading headline had read 'Sunagakure leader pushes for permanent alliance' was only a minor factor – but it wasn't a decision he regretted.

He'd thought that keeping himself distanced from the goings on of the rest of the world, would be best for his fragile mental state, at least until he had settled into a more stable position, but reading about how the world had changed after the last Great Ninja War was actually quite interesting and it gave him a better sense of how different things were now. Perhaps it might even help him decide how he wanted to change himself, as his old motivations had crumbled under his feet, worn away by years of pain and anger and Naruto's devastating friendship.

Revenge wasn't a sustainable purpose, he understood that much at least, but forgiveness wasn't realistic either, certainly not for him, so seeing how others were finding a way to move past old hurts and work together was educational and helped to put things into perspective for him.

Konoha had been leading the charge, of course, even without the Hero of Konoha openly supporting peace and understanding between all nations, Kakashi was using his new rank to bring about as much positive change as possible – at least until he could convince Tsunade to retake her former position.

They'd officially forgiven a number of crimes committed against them by other villages, though the declaration wasn't entirely welcomed, many, especially the older generations who had already lived through many conflicts and betrayals, worried that the move made them appear weak and would be taken advantage of.

Kirigakure had taken a stance of repentance; hoping to dissolve the reputation of the Bloody Mist, many apologies and reparations that had long been left unfulfilled were starting to be paid, but at the expense of the land's own population. They were still the most reluctant to reveal internal information though, the only news coming out of Mizu no Kuni was quite clearly doctored to show them as a united, changed people; the rumblings of revolt only slipping out as unproven rumours.

Things up north in Kumo had been mostly quiet, they had been the closest of the Five Nations to the battle and as such had far more to rebuild than the others, but for the first time in centuries, they'd dissolved the greater part of their military, as was expected of all shinobi nations during peacetime, and had even taken it upon themself to support their smaller, weaker neighbours – whose lands had been devastated by months of war – in reconstruction and rehousing thousands of refugees, they showed that they were more willing than ever before, to share their great wealth and power.

No talk of returning the knowledge of jutsus and resources stolen over the years, however, or of ending their power-grabbing ways.

Iwa, unusually for them, had taken a bold leap into building relations, they'd always been a country content to single-mindedly sit out crises, waiting until all available options were revealed to them, before making any move and always acting with self-interest in mind, but they had been active since the war ended, lending ninja skilled in earth jutsu to those countries whose lands had been drastically altered.

More specifically, they'd been working very closely with Suna – apparently their respective Kage had become quite good friends during the war – other villages however, mostly had to deal with the same stubborn, disinterested Tsuchikage they always had.

And as for Suna… well they'd apparently decided that they would be the shining beacon for the others to follow, an example of how trust and cooperation didn't mean weakness.

Kaze no Kuni had been almost entirely untouched by the war, the land and its people left in peace by Akatsuki, whose focus had been much further east, as such, for once Sunagakure had the strongest position of any ninja village, a position that they'd decided to use to help as many as possible.

Suna shinobi were the only ones in the Five Nations still taking outside contracts – too busy restructuring, all other villages were only accepting domestic jobs – performing rebuilding, escort and diplomatic missions in foreign lands, all for a considerably reduced price.

It was unsurprising to be honest; Gaara, likely more than anyone else, had taken Naruto's lessons to heart and his honest faith along with it, though tempered by a touch more practicality and guile than his blond friend had. He'd also been working to make such changes for a few years now, so it made sense that he'd already had a strategy prepared for when the old world dissolved into ash, ready to be reshaped.

Sasuke smirked as his eyes scanned a short article about the Kazekage's latest speech, asserting the necessity of open communication between ninja villages and hard compromises to be made on all sides if this peace were to last.

He wasn't sure he believed that such a radical shift to world order was sustainable, but if humanity could survive the storm that was undoubtedly coming, then perhaps…

"Sasuke, I'd like to talk to you."

Slowly, he turned towards the voice, half expecting to see nothing but the confirmation that he was losing his grip on reality, but no.

There really was an unnervingly blank-faced Hinata Hyuuga standing behind him, long hair slightly ruffled by the breeze and casual civilian clothing not matching her expression; that of a shinobi who absolutely would not fail their mission.

He wasn't quite sure what she wanted from him – had they ever actually spoken to each other before? – but something in her eyes told him to stay and humour her.

Not like he was planning on doing anything worthwhile with his evening anyway.

With a cautious nod, he followed her silent lead, away from his neighbourhood and back into the market he'd just left. It was surprising how quickly the streets could clear, less than an hour ago he was trying to avoid being jostled about, as people rushed through town, but now, with the dusk sun painting the sky in red, gold and purple and the citizens of Konoha retreating home for the evening, the pair could walk with a comfortable seven feet between them, not glancing at each other, except to ensure they were still heading the same way.

Of all the people he'd expected to be able to share a calm, easy atmosphere with, Hinata was not one of them, but it was admittedly a nice change to have someone who wouldn't pepper him with questions and could let the air be still for at least a minute without feeling the need to disrupt it.

By the time they'd found a small, empty, out-of-the-way teashop to enter, sitting at a small table as far in the corner as they could find, far away from the few customers still lingering, he managed to convince himself that this was just going to be a bizarre, but pleasant, outing of companionable silence and refreshing drinks.

That illusion held up as the tired-looking waiter took their orders – stifling a yawn as he walked away to prepare the tea – and still not a single word had passed between them, except for the question of what he wanted to drink.

The second that Hinata's cup hit the table with a delicate, controlled 'clink' after taking her first sip, however, that illusion shattered.

"I do not trust you," she said; careful, measured, but exuding a deadly poise.

He'd almost choked on his black tea, but managed to restrain his reaction to only a slight widening of his eyes, as he lowered his own drink. "Oh?"

She took a deep breath, though it wasn't one of nerves, even a passing glance at her statue-still hands and the steady rise and fall of her chest revealed her utter composure. "I don't doubt your reasons for returning," her voice was slow, long sips of her tea taken between breaths, he suspected she was purposefully controlling her stammer, though whether to put on an air of strength, or so that he clearly understood her message, he couldn't say, "and I believe you are truly regretful of your past actions."

"So, you believe I honestly want to rejoin Konoha and am looking to repent, what don't you trust?" he asked, glancing off to the side in a display of boredom, but part of him was teetering on the edge of nervousness; no conversation about his past, or present, motives had ever been good.

There was a long, painful pause before she answered, long enough for him to turn back to her with a raised brow.

"Your resolve."

His fist tightened so hard around his cup, that he might've heard the faint crack, were it not for the thunderous, pulsing air suddenly pushing hard against his ears, threatening to crush his puny skull under the weight of it.

Eyes trained intently on the woman opposite him, he saw her hair straying from its perfect, sleek waterfall of black; drawn to the crackling static surrounding him.

Anyone else might've been intimidated, but Hinata didn't look scared, nor sympathetic.

Her face was nothing but cold rage. "I want to believe that you have the mental strength to make this work, but I don't," she said, pausing to take a calm sip of her tea, before turning her narrow, eerie eyes back upon him, "and I don't want you to fail your team ever again."

Clawing back as much as his composure as he was capable of, he glared down into his cup, hot water slowly dripping out of spider-silk fine cracks, the burning against his hand grounding him, just slightly. "What does it matter to you? You know Naruto has never loved you, right, you're wasting your time throwing affection at him." A petty, low blow, but it made him feel better regardless.

"…I know, which is why I stopped chasing that dream a long time ago now, but I still love him, as a friend, as an example of everything I wish to be and I will protect him." Since when had this weak little girl become so self-assured, how was she more mature than him now? "You weren't there, you didn't see what you leaving did to him, or Sakura, or anyone else; you didn't see the sleepless nights, the breakdowns, the fear they felt on behalf their lost friend, the fear of their lost friend. They deserved better than you, but they never gave up on you either and now you have a chance to make things right."

That cut deeper than he'd ever openly admit, he focused instead on the way that the hot, sticky tea was pooling between his fingers, slipping through to paint scalding rivers down the back of his hand.

She quickly finished the last of her drink, the bobbing of her throat emphasizing her jugular temptingly. With a drawn-out sigh, she placed her cup down with the grace of decades of harsh training and pushed herself to her feet, he expected her to walk away without saying anything more, but she halted right next to his seat, glancing down at him from the corner of her eye.

"If you fail again, then I hope you find mercy from whatever gods you meet at your end. You won't find it from me."

He sighed, staring unblinkingly at the plain ceiling above him. It wasn't even interesting, just a boring, empty span of off-white; not a single crack or chip for his wandering eyes to focus on, the paint was a uniform colour all over, no stains to occupy his mind, no anomaly to build a story around and even the texture was completely smooth, paint strokes perfectly linear, no patterns to trace with his gaze.

Sasuke didn't want to look at the clock, because living in the safe space between ignorance and inevitability was so very comforting – though he could already make a rough estimate of the time based on the way the light had been gradually changing, what little filtered through the drawn curtains had started to cast the room in a deep shade of navy, replacing the dull black.

But, he couldn't just lie here until morning, waiting for sleep that wasn't coming, until Naruto started banging on his door and demanding that he get ready to face the day.

With a drawn-out groan, he pushed himself up, staring for a long moment into his lap, before the will to actually leave the bed finally overpowered his body's desire to curl back up and stagnate for another few hours.

At least he wasn't being haunted by memories tonight – his mind too preoccupied with his recent conversation with an old… acquaintance – but, then again, he found himself almost missing them, at least the screaming and all-encompassing images of blood and pain and hate were distracting; fear was far more familiar and bearable to him than boredom and confusion.

He wouldn't go to the kitchen, he'd been there all evening and knew that if he went back now then he'd just end up staring at the tap until the sun rose.

But, there really wasn't much else to do in his apartment either; any belongings from his youth had long since been lost or destroyed and he wasn't earning enough with his menial D-rank missions to splurge on anything that wasn't food, rent, or daily necessities.

Not that there was anything he really wanted to buy.

He felt jittery and odd, he desperately wanted to sleep, if only so that he wouldn't have to think for a while, but his thoughts wouldn't let him be. He wanted to do something, anything, but he didn't know what. He wanted to train, but exhaustion weighed him down. He wanted to move on, but, even if he could let himself do so, apparently no one else would. He wanted to just… not be, but he didn't deserve such peace, not while he still had so much to atone for. He wanted to talk to someone, but who would understand, let alone actually list-

A startlingly loud bang sounded against a wall, he'd dropped into a battle stance immediately, but clawing at his leg reminded him that he wasn't carrying any weapons.

"Stop your pacing, if you can't sleep go read a book, or write a poem," the gruff, weary voice of Etsuko filtered through the thin walls, followed by the muffled shuffling of someone returning to their bed.

He frowned, but antagonising the kunoichi next door would only make his life harder in the long run.

Sighing, he glanced around his room; he had no books, only old newspapers he'd already memorised, but poetry…

Keeping his steps light and movements quiet, he rummaged through the box that'd been holding the few belongings he still had from his time away from Konoha, it wasn't very big, so finding his target was easy. Pulling the familiar, barely-used notebook out, he picked up the pen on his bedside table and settled back onto his bed, legs crossed and book opened against his knee.

Not poetry – he didn't have the aptitude or patience for metaphor and allegory – but perhaps putting his turbulent thoughts to paper would let him rest, Sakura had said something to that effect once.

The pen – held uncomfortably in his wrong hand – hovered over the blank surface for a long time though, unable to find any way to start, just writing thoughts as they came would end up with a jumbled mess, but trying to write a one-sided dialogue with a non-existent reader just left him cringing, how the hell did anyone do this sort of thing, putting emotions into coherent, logical-

His eyes passed over the stack of papers he'd been collecting over the past few weeks.

Not even thinking, his hand started to move.

Gaara,

I don't know what I'm doing. I've never liked sharing my thoughts, but not having to be face-to-face helps.

And you listened once before, when you really didn't have to.

Why am I even talking to you like you're going to read this? I'm never going to send it, I just... want to pretend that someone out there might actually care.

I'm not sure I can do this, I keep thinking I'm on the verge of becoming 'normal' and 'right' but I'm not. I don't know how to be. The only person I can talk to anymore is Naruto and that's just because he's good at talking, I never had a single friend here, other than him and I guess that his friends don't want me around either. How am I supposed to make things up to him, when everyone else wants me dead, they tell me I'm too weak to change as if I don't already know that, but if I get angry and lash out, then I'll just be proving them right.

Every day I want to die, but when I think of what comes next… I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared of it, I don't even know what I'm scared of, I might as well already be in hell, with all the memories that won't let me go, and even if I don't go there, an endless nothing should be a comforting concept, but every time I think of it, something makes me want to scream.

What am I even doing, I keep saying I want to change, to redeem myself, my clan, but I haven't done anything, I barely manage to get out of the house some days, the only helpful things I ever do now are missions that a child would be capable of, while you and Naruto and everyone else are out there trying to change the world, I'm stuck watching, wondering how the fuck you can have so much belief and motivation.

For the longest time, I only ever wanted one thing, but when I got it, it turned out that I'd been fed a lie my whole life and that what I thought was saving my clan, just destroyed the only good thing it ever made.

How do I fix everything I've broken, when I can't even fix myself?

The door slammed heavily behind Naruto, his indignant, "Hey, what kinda goodbye is that!" not even a little muffled, but Sasuke ignored it; as much as he… cared for his friend, sometimes he just talked way too much.

Meandering idly through his flat, he wondered what he should do with the rest of his day. He'd just gotten back from his mandatory hour outside – the morning paper still in his hand – and he didn't need to go shopping anytime soon. He'd take up Naruto's offer of lunch, but the blond was being particularly grating today, and he didn't feel like getting into a fight right now. The place where his arm ended started twinging again, for the fifth time that morning, it wasn't full-on agony yet, but it probably wasn't far off; frowning, he stepped into his tiny bedroom, searching the dresser for his painkillers.

But, as his hand wrapped around the plastic bottle and he habitually performed the chakra-pooling one-handed method of opening it that he'd become quite proficient at as he adjusted to his disability, an irregularity caught his eye.

He stared at the notebook lying next to the neat pile of newsletters.

Mild curiosity had him flipping through to the page he'd poured his confused, rambling thoughts onto last night.

The words made him want to just burn the thing immediately, what was he even thinking? But then again… maybe they weren't unsalvageable. He quickly located a pen and brought the diary through to the kitchen, settling down to start writing again, thoroughly culling those thoughts that he absolutely did not want to ever see the light of day.

By the time he'd rewritten the letter and was relatively happy with the words, his medication had just started to kick in, leaving him absentminded and dazed.

He blamed his decision to rip out the page and actually post it to the Kazekage entirely on that.