Author's Notes: This is probably going to be the only finished fic here, but only because I wrote out the ending and left out pretty much everything that lead to it. The paragraph where Sakura appeared just killed this fic for me because I messed it up so badly. So yeah, probably never gonna really finish this.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

Faust

"Alright…"

Uchiha Sasuke was feeling dizzy, asphyxiated, trapped.

"…deal."

Although, whether it was because of the faint smell of sulfur hanging in the air or because of the fact that he had just signed his soul to an eternity of torture, he wasn't entirely sure.

He shivered lightly – an action uncharacteristic of him, but fully understandable considering who (or what) he was currently facing – as he reached out to shake hands with the small boy standing in front of him.

His discomfort might have been due to the simple reason that he was sitting, quite hopelessly, in the middle of a maximum-security prison cell. And by all principles of reason and logic, he should be all alone.

And yet there he was, looking at a child, a mirror of his younger self, a perfect copy, wearing the very clothes he wore in another, happier lifetime.

But there was something wrong with it, something he couldn't quite pinpoint, something that made him want to turn back, run away, forget.

"Are you sure?"

Sasuke nodded. There was nothing else he could do.

The child smiled brightly, face the picture of pure innocence, as Sasuke retracted his hand.

"Good choice, mister," said the boy, voice high-pitched and gleeful, "now I just need you to place a drop of your blood… just a teeny bit… right here!"

Warily, Sasuke glanced down at the figure, an intricate circle that was circumscribed with unintelligible symbols, embossed on the paper that the boy was holding out.

Wordlessly, he bit his thumb, drawing blood. Carefully, he placed a few drops at the spot indicated, the very center.

The act itself was barely caused him any pain, but Sasuke knew that it was merely an investment. The rest would come later – much later.

Then, the world spun.

And the last thing he remembered was the child's face chipping away, revealing sinister serpentine skin underneath and chilling yellow eyes.

For a moment, he thought it was just a dream, and a torrent of relief washed over him.

Then the smell of breakfast – eggs and fish and fragrant, fragrant rice – wafted up to him, and he could do nothing but roll to his side, sink into his pillow, and cry.

Silent shuddering sobs wrack his frame as he reels from a maelstrom of emotions – joy, sorrow, fear, and anticipation. And always, at the back of his mind, a question: 'how much will this cost?'

Spent and utterly exhausted from his outburst, he fought to compose himself. He wiped his tears and rubbed his eyes and wearily made his way to the mirror at the corner of his room.

All it took was one glance at the polished glass to make him grimace.

He looked horrible.

Briefly, he wondered whether he should try to fix his appearance or to just leave the house for a while, to come back only when he was ready.

But he wanted this – he yearned for this for so long and—

As if on cue, he heard a knock on his door—

"Breakfast, Sasuke."

-and a voice that almost made him lose all the composure he had tried so hard to regain.

"Don't make mother wait."

His hand itched for a minute, instinct telling him to summon up his trademark technique and mark the air with the sound of a million chirping birds, but the sensation was swiftly suppressed.

"I'm coming—", he said.

Then, tentatively, "—brother".

When he sat down at the breakfast table – to eggs, fish, rice, and family – he felt a bit choked. A tiny bubble had risen up inside him, comprised of all the emotions he had gone so long without.

As it was, it took all the willpower he had to act normal around them, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

But it still wasn't enough.

His clan wasn't called 'most powerful' for nothing, after all.

"Sasuke-chan,"—So his mother still called him that. Part of him found it endearing, but mostly, he found it embarrassing—"if it's Sakura-chan again, I can talk to her mom and—"

"It's not good for an Uchiha to be crying… for a girl, no less."

He was horrified, really. It was the first time he saw his father in years and the first thing he had done was to disappoint the guy.

"I wasn't—"

"It's also not good for an Uchiha to make excuses—"

"Dear, you're being too hard on Sasuke-chan. Falling in love is a normal part of adolescence and—"

She really shouldn't call him Sasuke-cha—wait—what?

"—or to hide under his mother's skirt", his father finished. Sasuke's gratitude for his mother's defense rapidly melted to slight irritation, and he couldn't help but want to voice a protest.

"But—"

All it took was his father to send him a pointed glare for him to clamp his mouth shut.

To his left, he could hear Itachi's condescending snigger, and it was enough for Sasuke to reconsider that Chidori that he had tried so hard to contain earlier.

Really, he had forgotten all about the, well, inconveniences of actually having a family. But he had to admit, deep inside, his spirit was soaring.

By the time he met up with his teammates, he was already questioning the sanity of this – this alternate universe.

"I am not talking to you."

He hadn't even known that she was capable of giving such venomous glares.

"Sakura—"

"LALALALLALALALALAAAA! CAN'THEARYOU—"

So saying, she stuck a finger in each of her ears and childishly, immaturely, annoyingly made faces at him. Still, he would not be deterred.

"Sakura, don't you think you're being—"

"—LALALALALALA! MY EARS ARE IMMUNE TO THE VOICE OF A JERK—"

"immature and—"

"—LALALALALAA—"

"—annoying."

"Exactly. So go away. Shoo! Disappear!"

Sasuke winced, not exactly used to the idea of Sakura – who used to pine for him, ask him for dates, follow him around, beg him not to leave – sending him away.

Really, where had all that respect gone?

"Fine", he bit out, "Have it your way."

"I intend to", she said airily before walking away.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"Fine."

"Will you guys please stop it? You're acting like kids! We're about to go on a mission, for crying out loud!"

Chastised, he folded his arms into his chest and looked away. Sakura did the same. But not before making a face and childishly sticking a tongue out at him.

Really, how could a place where Naruto was being the mature one be anything short of sane?

Still, sane or not, he was warming up to it rapidly. Mainly because he knew that a world where they were children – not world-weary adults in small, tiny, not-quite-there-yet bodies – was a world that he could believe in.

Six hours, twenty four minutes, and twelve seconds later, Kakashi finally arrived.

And after the traditional 'you're late!' from Sakura and Naruto and the quintessential excuse from Kakashi, they finally found out about their mission.

Or the lack of it.

Having already wasted a quarter of their day waiting for their mentor, this came as quite a disappointment. A big one.

But at least it meant that they had the remainder of the day to themselves.

Sasuke, not quite used to his new surroundings yet, decided to spend the day familiarizing himself with the village. It wouldn't be an easy feat, considering how much he hated the Konoha that he had left behind, but he would try.

In another life, he would have made it into the history books, gone down as one of the strongest ninjas to ever grace the world.

He would have wreaked havoc unimaginable, caused pain unparalleled.

At the end, he would have died by the hangman's noose, in front of the whole village, half of them orphaned because of him. And he would have died smiling.

But in this life, things were different.

He was a good friend, a good father, a good husband, and, ultimately, a good person.

He was an elite ninja with a stellar career – but never one of the best. He would not make it into the history books, definitely. But he would never make it into the bingo book either.

He was, all things considered, happy.

Middle-aged and slightly rheumatic, he made his way through the rooms of his five children, giving each one an approving look, filled with love and pride and maybe a bit of sadness, before bending down to give them a kiss good night, good bye.

Then, he goes into their room – his, and his wife's – and gently nudges her awake.

He wants to see her eyes, green and warm and loving, one more time.

Her expression contorts into one of sleep confusion and he presses a light peck at the tip of her nose, if only because she still looks adorable, even at the age of 54.

Then, in an act perfected by the years of practice, he claims her lips, pouring everything that he is, everything that he was, and everything that he could have been into those few minutes of contact.

They broke apart, almost hesitantly, regretfully.

Then, she asked, ever insightful, "What's wrong, Sasuke-kun?"

Briefly, he wondered whether he should tell her, but ultimately, he decided against it.

Instead, he echoed the words he had said to her a long time ago, in a different world, a different age.

"Sakura, Thank you."

And he meant it just as much as he did the first time, maybe even more.

"I really love you, Sasuke-kun—is… is everything alright?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow", he lied as he buried his face into her hair, inhaling her scent, memorizing it. He would need it for the days ahead.

"Mm, go back to sleep then."

She felt him give him a tight squeeze and a small peck on the cheeks before she released him and drifted back to sleep.

"Later."

He marveled at the trust in her whole countenance, thankful for it, for the affirmation that she loved him and he loved her, and that they both knew that.

He touched her cheek, savoring the contact. It was so different from that other world where the only way they would touch each other was if they had the intent to kill.

He sighed, once. Then, legs heavy and reluctant – though he told himself that it was just his rheumatism acting up, he turned away.

Still, he was a happy man, a lucky man.

And Uchiha Sasuke, in this world, died with no regrets.

It was with a healthy amount of fear that he followed the young child in front of him as he set out to fulfill his part of the deal, but he did not beg, did not cry, did not falter, not even when he saw the flaming pyres.

There were no regrets.

Because when it all came down to it, he knew: In that other world, he would have ended up there anyway.

So in the end, he was still the winner.

Fin. But not Really.