It's over.

Back pressed against the rough bark of a tree trunk and knees drawn up to his chest, he stares listlessly into the raging forest fire that burns around him. Sasuke knows the inferno is a beacon, broadcasting his location to Kaguya's forces.

But he doesn't really care anymore.

After all, he's the one who lit this fire. He's sick of running. Sick of hiding. He wants Kaguya to come to him. He wants to face down the horde of White Zetsu, to fight until the last breath leaves his body.

Sasuke wants to die.

He lifts his hands up, examining them. The flickering orange light of the fire illuminates the splotches of dried, flaking blood. The air's filled with the crackle of burning trees, the roar of flames, and the bitter, choking taste of smoke. Sasuke can't breathe, there's a lump growing in his throat, and he can't breathe—

Now he's thinking about Naruto. Because it's Naruto's blood that covers his hands, stains his clothes, and crusts in his hair. He's trying to remember Naruto's laugh, but all he can hear is Naruto's cry as Kaguya impales him. He's trying to remember twinkling, sky-blue eyes, but all he can see is the hollow, lifeless look in Naruto's dead gaze.

There's a small part of him that still has some sense of self-preservation left. Before, it had urged him to never give up, to keep fighting. And now—

Now it's screaming at him, begging him to put out the flames and flee. He ignores it. To hide would just be to prolong the inevitable, and there's no point to it. Because it's over.

Sasuke knows the truth now. He knows that hope is nothing more than a dangerous delusion. There's no room for hope in this world. The day Madara cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi, the day that they failed to kill Kaguya, was the day hope had died.

In the five years since that day, Sasuke watched the world burn. He watched as millions of people were turned into White Zetsu. He watched everyone he cared about die, one by one. He watched the world end.

And it's his fault.

Even with the power of the Sage of the Six Paths, even with the Rinnegan, he hadn't been able to beat Kaguya. That reality had been hard-still is-hard to grasp. To look around and realize that he's still not strong enough. Too weak to save his parents, too weak to save Itachi, too weak to stop the apocalypse-Sasuke has never been enough.

He's never been fucking enough.

This is the part where Naruto would wrap his strong arms around him. Where he'd hold him close and nuzzle his neck. This is the part where Naruto would kiss him on the cheek and whisper that everything was going to be okay. But that's not going to happen this time, and it's not going to be okay. Nothing's ever going to be okay, ever again.

Because a few hours ago, Naruto bled out in his arms.

How can anything be okay after that?

How can he keep lying to himself now?

How can Sasuke keep living, keep going, after this? A broken croak slips past his lips as he fists his hands in hair and screams.

A kaleidoscope of memories flash through his mind. He sees summer nights spent with his hands tangled in Naruto's hair, and bitter winter days with his cold fingers intertwined with Naruto's warm ones. There's balmy happiness, and chilling grief; crushing, numbing despair and the greatest, purest love he's ever known. Because—

Because Sasuke had loved Naruto. He had loved him since before he even knew what the word meant. Never had he been able to take his eyes off the other boy, and the feeling had always been mutual. Their worlds had always revolved around each other. And losing that—

Sasuke's strong. He's always been strong. But losing this, losing thislast thing—

He doesn't just break. He shatters, sobbing on the forest floor. Hot tears trace lines down his soot-stained cheeks, and a warm, dry breeze ruffles his hair. He's crying for his parents, for Itachi, for Sakura and Kakashi and so many others. He's crying for Naruto.

And he shouldn't be crying. Sasuke knows he's being ungrateful. Plenty of people had been ripped away from their loved ones far too soon. At least he had spent a couple of years with Naruto before the end. But—

It just wasn't enough. No amount of time is enough, no amount of time spent with Naruto could have prepared him for this. It just wasn't enough time.

And it could have been so much more. If he hadn't-if he hadn't fled Konoha. If Sasuke had listened to Naruto that day in the Valley of the End, back when they were boys. If he'd just listened and stayed—

But he didn't, and he hadn't. Instead, he'd spent years running from the one person who had never abandoned him. He's wasted so much time, and he wishes he could go back.

He wishes he could go back.

Sasuke lets his hand drop to his sides, thinking. Normally he'd dismiss this as wishful thinking, as a fanciful fantasy, as a waste of time. But maybe this isn't a fantasy. Maybe he doesn't have to dismiss this out of hand.

Because Sasuke has the Rinnegan. The fabled eye of legend, bestowing upon its bearer the power of a god. It's saved Sasuke more times than he can count. It's been five years, and he's still scratching the surface of what he can do with it.

He knows he can manipulate space with the Rinnegan. What if he could do the same with time? He can exchange the positions of objects in space, but if he could exchange the positions of things in time…

He could go back.

An exchange, then. He needs to bring something forward in time, so he can go back. Sasuke stands slowly, his knees weak, and lets out a breath. Alright. He can figure that out. He stumbles through the burning woods, coughing and squinting as clouds of smoke swirl around him.

He finds what he's looking for after a couple minutes, near the edge of the fire. It's an ancient tree, relatively untouched by the inferno. It only takes a second to extinguish the flames around him, and kneels on the ground in front of the tree.

Maybe if he brings the younger version of this tree forward in time, he'll be able to send himself back. There's no telling how far back he'd get sent, and there's also no telling how much chakra doing this would entail. He doesn't know if it'll even work, or if he has the chakra reserves left to pull it off.

If Naruto were here, he'd probably punch Sasuke in the arm and tell him to stop being stupid. When Sasuke closes his eyes, he can hear Naruto's breathless chuckle and see his easy smile.

I'm supposed to be the reckless one, bastard.

Naruto's not here to pull him back from the edge this time.

Nothing can pull Sasuke back now.

In the back of his mind, he can sense the approaching, diffuse chakra signatures of White Zetsu closing in on him. It's now or never. Sasuke opens his eyes, and presses one trembling hand to the coarse, rough bark of the tree.

There's no room for fear, no room for doubt, no room for grief. Sasuke lets out the breath he's holding, and he casts his jutsu. The air grows cold, and he feels the cool tingle of chakra rushing through his body. Fatigue begins to set in, his energy rapidly being consumed by the voracious demands of the jutsu. His limbs shake with exhaustion.

There's a crack, and the tree in front of him is shrinking. No, not shrinking; it's growing younger. It's being replaced with its younger version, he realizes. Sasuke's excitement is cut short by the sudden pull he feels in his chest, and then he's flying forward into a black void. As his consciousness fades, he realizes he has no idea what time period he's sending himself to.

He was never particularly good with those little details, anyway.