Sasuke is twelve years old when the countries of Sand and Sound join forces to attack Konoha during the Chuunin Exams.
Slightly less noteworthy but still somewhat alarming is when Shikamaru meets his soulmate, during events leading up to the fateful invasion effort.
Sasuke knows one of these incidents should take precedence over the other, in his mind. Sakura had nearly died— the Sandaime had died. Half the Village was in ruins and Naruto of all people had been the one to bring a stop to the Suna Demon's rampage.
The entire world has been turned on its head and Sasuke can't stop thinking about soulmarks.
Because Sasuke is twelve and he still does not have a soulmark.
Its not something that keeps him up at night, most of the time. Of the people his age he knows, hardly any have found their match— in fact, Shikamaru might be the first Sasuke is aware of. But Sasuke has far more important things on his mind than destiny's micromanaging or whatever.
He finds himself rather alone in that respect.
The fervor around soulmates and soulmarks approaches a near fever pitch, after the uproar of Shikamaru's mark appearing following his match against the Sand kunoichi. Sasuke hadn't seen it for himself, but Sakura waxed poetic about it often enough he feels like he might as well have been there for the event itself. He just doesn't understand everyone's obsession with marks. Finding your soulmate feels like such an insignificant event in the grand scheme of their lives. With all the struggle and hardship they deal with as ninja, the introduction of one stranger fated to bring a person "happiness" just can't really measure up, in Sasuke's opinion.
Though Sakura is the first to point out that statistically, their cohort of ninja seems to have a disproportionately low number of soulmate pairs amongst them, compared to their parents's generation— most of whom had met their soulmates if not before they left the Academy, then soon after they'd joined the shinobi ranks. What that means for the future, Sasuke can't begin to fathom. While it's a curious bit of data, it doesn't really matter. Not to him.
His future is predicated on one thing and one thing only— a soulmate won't change that. If anything, the whole business is nothing more than yet another distraction Sasuke can't afford.
Still, with the advent of Shikamaru's mark, there's barely a day that goes by where someone isn't perseverating on the subject, regardless of Sasuke's thoughts on the matter.
"Huh," Naruto says, twisting Shikamaru's hand this way and that to examine the light blue handprint wrapped around it, "I guess I expected something… more exciting, y'know."
"Tch," Shikamaru grunts, yanking his hand out of Naruto's, "It's not a big deal."
"Isn't it though?" Sakura asks, "Temari's your soulmate. Are you excited to find out what that means?"
"Am I excited to be fatalistically bound to a girl from a village that just attempted to start a war with my homeland?" Shikamaru drawls, "Not particularly."
"Yeah, how's that supposed to work anyway?" Naruto frowns, turning back toward the counter where they're all waiting for their orders to be delivered, "I mean— they seemed pretty cool— there at the end, at least. But its not like you can just… go and live in Suna now right?"
"Exactly," Shikamaru huffs, "So what's the point? It's more troublesome than anything, if you ask me."
Sasuke can't help but agree.
"I wouldn't be surprised if more of our generation's matches were from foreign states," Sasuke considers aloud, "It would explain why so few of our marks have appeared until now."
Sakura groans, "That's terrible— so, what? We're only supposed to meet our soulmates during a war? And then what do we do? Don't you think that's terrible, Sasuke-kun?"
"… It was just an observation," Sasuke says, "I don't actually care either way."
Which is true. Mostly. Sasuke couldn't care less if he happens to find his soulmark a person he meets across the battlefield. Once again, it doesn't matter.
… And if he watches carefully each time Naruto makes direct contact with some new stranger for the first time, well— that doesn't actually matter either.
When Sasuke is thirteen years old, he leaves Naruto in a broken heap at the base of a rain soaked valley and doesn't look back.
He's willing to admit that it isn't an easy thing to do. If nothing else, their confrontation had forced Sasuke to admit that Naruto— against all odds— mattered to him. His teammate. His best friend. The one person Sasuke cares enough about that he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that killing him would give Sasuke the power to finally confront Itachi on equal footing.
But Sasuke can't do it.
Of course, refusing to give his brother the satisfaction of influencing his actions is certainly a factor he considers. As if Sasuke would allow the man to so precisely dictate Sasuke's course to attaining power. No, Sasuke would achieve his strength the way he wanted— not through whatever means Itachi deigned to lay before him.
Underneath that though… Sasuke can't help but recall swiping his thumb over Naruto's eye that day— so privately certain of the red stain his touch would leave behind. It was a feeling that had niggled at him, over the years. Well beyond their tenuous connection as children. Beyond his body moving on its own, just to protect Naruto. Beyond his own baffling preoccupation with the other boy— not to mention Naruto's own perplexing fixation on tormenting Sasuke. Something about them had always felt… different. From every other bond in Sasuke's life. He can't put a finger on it. Naruto isn't his soulmate. It's an irrefutable fact.
Only Sasuke grudgingly accepts that on a certain level… he'd wanted Naruto to be. Expected it— yes, but the feeling isn't as simple as all that. It wasn't even that they should have been soulmates. Sasuke won't pretend to understand the workings of fate— if anything, he places little stock in the universe's cruel opinion on such matters.
The way Sasuke sees it, that's the crux of the hand they've been dealt— he and Naruto's bond. It was something they'd chosen. A strange, cantankerous partnership they'd at first been dragged into kicking and screaming. But later continued to walk towards, less out of obligation, but something more akin to habit. Comfort. And they've continued to lean into it, over and over again, until Sasuke looks back an doesn't even recognize that lonely boy, sitting on the docks anymore. And realizes he hasn't been that person for longer than he's willing to admit. The fact that that doesn't bother him more is what makes him realize.
If Sasuke could have chosen anyone to mark him and bear his mark in turn, he can only imagine it being Naruto. That's what makes his sway over Sasuke's emotions in those last moments so strong, he's sure. Because Naruto is someone he'd chosen, against the will of fate or destiny or the universe— whenever you wanted to call it.
Which is also why Sasuke must leave him behind. Because a bond like that would only threaten the only ambition Sasuke has in this life. There is no room for compromise. No room for fate. Whatever Sasuke would have done was irrelevant— because there's only one choice Sasuke can make in his life, and Naruto isn't it.
Sasuke had decided his own fate a long time ago.
"I couldn't help but notice," Kabuto says, as the grey stain of the curse seal bleeds from Sasuke's skin, "That you haven't yet received your soulmark, even after all this time."
Sasuke is fourteen years old, and he wishes Kabuto would shut up.
"So what?" Sasuke grunts, wishing he could just leave but Orochimaru had insisted Sasuke practice his newly developed jutsus with the curse seal in its more advanced form— and left him Kabuto to supervise. Likely just to annoy Sasuke, which his mentor took unholy glee in doing some days.
Still, the man had a point in demanding Sasuke train in this particular area— sustaining the seal's full power whilst simultaneously channeling the rudimentary Chidorinagshi proved more challenging than Sasuke had wanted to admit.
"That wasn't an insult, you know," Kabuto chuckles, as Sasuke shrugs his gi top back over his shoulders, "That would be rather inconsiderate of me, considering I've yet to meet my soulmate either."
"… I don't care," Sasuke says, despite his grudging interest.
If you had asked him before, he would have assumed Kabuto to hold Orochimaru's mark, the the fervent adoration with which the man seemed to follow him. Surely a soulbond alone could have explained such zealotry.
"It's a shame, really," Kabuto continues, ignoring Sasuke's disinterest entirely, "I had heard the strength of an Uchiha's bond with their soulmate directly correlated to the full potential of the Sharingan's abilities. Of course, there isn't much literature on the subject, but it would have been interesting to see if the stories were true."
"… What?" Sasuke asks, taken aback by the abrupt turn of the conversation, "I've never heard such a thing."
Kabuto shrugs, which only further annoys Sasuke, "I imagine your parents would have told you, when you were old enough to understand. Again— such a shame."
Sasuke grits his teeth and hold back a biting remark. There's only so much insubordination he can get away with, and a Chidori to the gut was far beyond that limit.
"I didn't realize soulmate bonds could even be strengthened," he says instead, privately thinking back to Itachi's long hours spent by Shisui's side, before his death.
"The development typically occurs organically," Kabuto tutts, as if disappointed in Sasuke's rudimentary knowledge of the subject, "Though some pairs have naturally stronger attachments than others, for most its hardly a matter of great significance. But the Uchiha's unique physiological reaction to the marks made the phenomena more central to their culture— even as far back as the feudal clans era."
"How do you know all this?" Sasuke asks.
"It is my job to know things like this, Sasuke-kun," Kabuto grins, "You should know why Orochimaru values my support so highly."
"I'd have assumed it was your natural charm," Sasuke says dryly.
Kabuto chuckles at that, "No, somehow that did little to ingratiate me to him, if you'll believe it."
Sasuke pauses, hesitating to ask the question just behind his lips. In the end, his curiosity wins out over his compulsion to remain indifferent—
"Do you even want to find your soulmate?" Sasuke asks, surprised when Kabuto appears to actually consider the question.
"Not particularly," he says after a moment, "I receive all the validation and meaning I need from my partnership with Orochimaru-sama."
"Is it the same for him?"
"Orochimaru-sama does not need or desire validation from anyone, Sasuke-kun— you should realize that by now. The world would have you believe you need a soulmate complete you, but not all of us subscribe to such casually frivolous notions. One's character and value is hardly predicated on the social capitol assigned to fairly innocuous physiological quirk," Kabuto smirked, "Unless you're an Uchiha, of course."
"I have no interest in finding my soulmate," Sasuke corrected, "Regardless of the power such a bond might grant me, useless attachments will only detract from the pursuit of my goals."
"I see," Kabuto smiled placidly, "You truly are a unique adolescent in virtually every sense, Sasuke-kun. I admire that about you."
"Hn," Sasuke acknowledged neutrally, resisting the natural urge to grimace— as if he could ever find Kabuto's admiration something to aspire to— Sasuke slipped off his gi top once more, "We should get back to it— I feel like I was close that time."
"As you wish, Sasuke-kun."
Quite by accident, Sasuke learns that Orochimaru, of all people, has a soulmate when he is fifteen years old.
It happens during a bout of kenjutsu training. The first time Sasuke manages to land a hit— almost. His blade catches the fabric of Orochimaru's long haori, tearing it. And though he doesn't manage to draw blood, it bears the eerily pale skin of the man's torso and shoulder— exposing the bold, dark navy of a broad hand print, the expanse of it spanning from the man's collar bone to the vertex of his shoulder joint.
The starkness of it is readily apparent, despite the fact that Orochimaru pulls the torn edges back over it almost immediately. The he shoots Sasuke afterward is the first time he's looked at Sasuke with anything but amused condescension or charmed pretension since he'd arrived. Obviously displeased the mark had been revealed to Sasuke at all.
Typically, Sasuke's wariness of the man's power is enough to hold his natural impetuousness at bay. Today, however, instead of biting his tongue and acting as if he saw nothing, Sasuke finds himself stricken by a fit of rebelliousness.
"I didn't realize you had a soulmate," Sasuke comments dryly, relishing the man's resulting scowl.
"Quite against my preference, I assure you," is all Orochimaru offers in reply.
Sasuke can't help himself, picking up on the man's obvious discomfort with the subject, "You don't want a soulmate?"
"A soulmate is not the issue," Orochimaru says, "My soulmate however I could certainly do without. Count yourself lucky to have not yet been burdened with fate's sadistic meddling, Sasuke-kun."
Unsure of how to reply, Sasuke merely raises a questioning brow.
To his surprise, Orochimaru chuckles, "Perhaps you're still too young to understand, but you'd do best to forget everything you've heard about the nature of soulmate bonds. I can say with confidence the experience is not what popular myth would have us believe. Trust me when I say I will be doing you a favor, by giving you a life free of such frivolous torture."
"A favor?"
"When I take your body as my host, of course."
"Hn," Sasuke feels he's getting better at concealing his revulsion at any mention of the man's ultimate designs— the reason he's allowed Sasuke the honor of his tutelage at all. Between that and the horrors of many of the man's projects, carefully crafted neutrality is quickly becoming Sasuke's norm, "You already know the only favor I require from you."
"Of course, of course," Orochimaru grins slyly, "Now then, shall we return to the matter at hand? Your footwork still leaves much to be desired, if you wish to have any ability to achieve that goal of yours."
Despite the subject being dropped, it continues to dog Sasuke's thoughts for a long time after. That the person the universe had selected from all its denizens to make Orochimaru happy evoked only disdain from the man. Granted, Sasuke cannot even begin to imagine Orochimaru happy. Pleased— certainly. Smug, unfortunately. But at his core, it is impossible to imagine a bitter, jealous person like that ever managing something close to happiness. Perhaps that explained the man's abject derision at the concept of soulmates.
At the same time, Sasuke also notes that whoever Orochimaru's soulmate is, they're certainly not here. With no clues about their identity to go off of, it's impossible to draw any further conclusions— whether they're dead or somewhere out there, wandering the world with the knowledge their soulmate holds nothing but resentment for their bond. All Sasuke knows is that Orochimaru remains an island in this world by choice. Just like Sasuke. Proof it is possible to remain free of even the universe's heavy handed machinations.
Sasuke wishes he too could hold himself so similarly aloof to the concept. He tries, but even through willful effort, he can't hide from the longing that haunts his dreams.
When they meet again on the wasteland-esque battlefield beneath the towering terror that is the Juubi, Sasuke can't help the way is eyes drift over Naruto in a quick but thorough assessment— ostensibly to compare and consolidate the Naruto before him with that of his memory. But privately he can't deny the intrusive knowledge that he's searching for any hint of color, out of place against the bare patches of Naruto's skin—
And then Naruto's entire body is enveloped in a cloak of brilliant orange chakra, rendering any such efforts moot.
Sasuke shoves the errant thought aside. Right now, they have a war to win.
But then the war is over.
Sasuke is seventeen years old, and he has fought his own megalomanical ancestor, an ancient chakra goddess, and Naruto, yet again— nearly getting the both of them killed in the process. For all his trouble, he will eventually spend three weeks in Konoha's dungeons, bound by straightjacket and blindfolded.
But first, he is confined to a private hospital room in Konoha to recover, and inadvertently offerred enough of a reprieve to reflect on his circumstances in relative comfort.
The emotions Sasuke felt, waking up in Konoha's hospital had been… complicated. Conflicted.
On the one hand— his feelings toward this place haven't changed. Only Sasuke's course forward has. That pill had been a bitter one to swallow. The only grudging balm for it was the sound of Naruto's relieved laughter when Sasuke resurrects a long forgotten insult in the wake of his… loss still feels too inadequate to describe what transpired between them. But no matter the term one chose to ascribe to it, Sasuke's world is turned upside down by his surrender.
He only realizes just how much when Sakura conducts his first post treatment examination.
"I've never seen a bruise like this before," Sakura hums, prodding the skin over his palm, "It looks more like frostbite, actually. Did something happen while we were on that… ice world, or wherever we were?"
"No," Sasuke denies, glancing down at his lone remaining hand that is stained a peculiar turquoise from the tips of his fingers to the cusp of his wrist.
"I wonder if it has something to do with the Sage of Six Paths?" she murmurs, jotting a note in Sasuke's chart, "Or… hmm, no— no, that can't be it."
"What?" Sasuke asks, scowling as her vagueness, "What is it?"
It's at that moment Tsunade storms into his hospital room, takes one look at Sasuke and huffs, "And just when were you going to tell us you'd found your soulmate, Uchiha?"
Sasuke's mind goes blank.
"Eh?" Sakura squawks, "No— he didn't have a mark before, during the war, shishou. Just when could he have—"
"Are you telling me I don't know a soulmark when I see it, kid?" Tsunade grumbles, stomping up to Sasuke's bedside to prod at his palm, "See, just scrapes— no other tissue damage or swelling. This isn't an injury. Not one we're capable of healing anyway."
Sasuke notes the bitterness in her tone, but shrugs it off in the face of a more pressing revelation.
"I don't have a soulmate," he says somewhat stupidly, he's loath to admit.
"Your hand here begs to differ," the Hokage grunts, "Who have you touched for the first time since you last saw your hand without the mark?"
Sasuke stares at the blue stain in wonder, "… No one. I haven't touched anyone except Juugo and…"
He trails off, feeling his scowl darken even as Sakura recoils in the face of his black look. She doesn't go far, and her gaze never leaves Sasuke's face— expression revealing clear concern and… pity. She is likely already as aware as Sasuke just whom he's been in contact with.
And far less reserved in sharing such information.
"Naruto," Sakura answers softly but confidently, "You've only touched Naruto— isn't that right, Sasuke-kun?"
"I've touched that idiot before," Sasuke reminds them both, "We were on a team together for years."
"Then clearly you're forgetting someone," Tsunade says with a clinical lack of either sympathy or even interest, "If you have any hope in finding this match of yours, best start thinking a little harder."
Sasuke doesn't have to think about it at all, "I don't care to find them."
"What?" Sakura gasps, sounding stricken, "Sasuke-kun— how can you say that?"
He doesn't bother answering her. Its neither her nor the Hokage's business why Sasuke has no interest in reuniting with his mysterious, unknown soulmate.
Just as it's Sasuke's business alone how disappointed he feels. Though he refuses to admit why, even to himself.
The pair of medics complete his check up with professional efficiency after that, before Tsunade finally manages to drag Sakura away from her insistent fussing— though the older woman casts Sasuke one last long, sullen look over her shoulder as she goes— the venom in it surprising and difficult to interpret, considering she'd been stoically cordial, if reserved, during their few interactions thus far.
Once they're gone, Sasuke's attention is drawn as if by a magnet back to his hand— practically glowing in the unforgivingly clinical light of his hospital room.
Palm marks were the most common— everyone knew that. And almost always the result of carelessly accidental contact. It was the entire reason clans like the Uchiha developed their first meeting rituals the way they had— to provide definitive, immediate proof of a match without the tedium of thoughtless touches muddying the waters. As much as Sasuke genuinely had no interest in whoever was unlucky enough to bear his mark's match, he can't help but resent his newfound soulmark, and the emotions it forced him to acknowledge.
Like the fleeting sense of rightness he'd felt, bearing the Sage's moon seal on his palm— knowing who bore its matching sun.
Because there was a distinctive, insistent part of him that knew the universe was wrong.
