"Nice work Chouji, Shikamaru. Next up," Iruka-sensei says, checking his roster, "Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto."
The girls lining the training ground simultaneously shriek and jeer, as Naruto charges onto the pitch. He's ready— he's gonna kick that jerk's ass into the dust, y'know—
For his part, Sasuke looks completely unruffled, standing across from him.
Naruto wants to beat his smug face in.
"Alright— just like we studied. Shinobi kumite rules apply," Iruka is saying, though Naruto hardly hears him, completed zoned in on where his opponent is falling into an offensive stance— blank faced and total infuriating—
"Ready…" Iruka says, "Begin!"
Naruto dashes forward, but Sasuke is faster— damn him— clearing the distance between them quickly but not too quickly— Naruto totally see him, ducking and weaving between between Naruto's blows. None of them land. Naruto seethes and throws himself to the side, out of the way a swift kick—
Naruto rolls, tumbling through the dirt and out of Sasuke's stupidly long reach.
He can't. He can't let Sasuke win. Because they all expect Naruto to lose and that's— that's— the worst. Naruto hates how they write him off. He's just the dirt under Sasuke's sandal to them. If Naruto can just… just… beat him. Then they'll have to admit he's just as good as Sasuke. Better even.
Of course, Sasuke refuses to cooperate. Crouching low and yet somehow still looking down his stupidly straight nose as he sizes Naruto up.
Sasuke narrows his eyes, not looking impressed by what he sees. Stupid, know-it-all fuck face.
"Hn," Sasuke glances away for just a second— all the seconds Naruto needs—
Springing forward, Naruto sends a fist flying toward Sasuke's horrible, awful face—
Sasuke dodges under the blow, skirting to the side at the last moment and Naruto is— tripping, stumbling as he attempts to correct course but his feet can't keep up with his body and all he can do is roll himself over, flinging out his arms to catch himself—
He blinks his eyes open as the dust settles around him. They widen in alarm to find Sasuke crouched over him, his fist inches away from Naruto's nose. A hand splayed over Naruto's ribs the only thing keeping him from completely crushing Naruto beneath him.
Fuck.
Naruto wants to be angry. He wants to be so so pissed. Because of course the first time they fought it would end this way. Just the way everyone expected because they expect nothing from him and everything from Sasuke—
But he can't really think any of those things. Because Sasuke's dark eyes are boring into his— and they look nothing like they did a second ago. Their focused intensity hollowed out, leaving only something… something…
Empty. Broken. The same look Naruto sees when he looks in the mirror on his bad days.
"… Sasuke wins!" Iruka is shouting over their cheering classmates that suddenly sound distant to Naruto's ears.
Neither of move for a long moment. Then Sasuke's hand is pulling away, along with his fist.
The skin left behind feels cold.
Sasuke is thirty three years old when he startles awake at the sound of Naruto falling out of the bed next to him. Before he can even blink Naruto is already scrambling upright, clinging to the bed sheets at Sasuke's hip with a wild look in his eye.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Sasuke scowls blankly— anticipating an explanation for the unholy ruckus.
"I remembered," Naruto breathes.
"Remembered what?" Sasuke scoffs, swiping a hand over his face trying to wake himself up enough for Naruto's stupid revelations or whatever it happens to be this time, "That you have to leave for work in— fuck, three hours?"
"No, I—" Naruto shakes himself all over, "Well, yeah. But no. The first time we— I remembered."
Sasuke pauses, parsing Naruto's words, "The soulmarks?"
"Yes."
"During the war?"
"No," Naruto huffs, "Before— in the Academy. During the first kumite Iruka-sensei set up for our class. The first time we sparred, y'know."
"If you can call it that," Sasuke responds without thinking, even as the memory flashes before his eyes, coming to him in a wave of recollection—
Pinning Naruto to the dusty surface of the practice field— hand sliding into place just beneath Naruto's skinny ribs as he holds his fist back from breaking Naruto's stupid nose— the idiot trying and completely failing to meet Sasuke on even ground in mock battle.
Naruto pulls up his t-shirt, exposing the mark itself, "It didn't show up until after we— when we both died, like Baa-chan said. But that was it, wasn't it? They're really ours?"
Sasuke had long since stopped doubting that fact, but still. It was good to finally have the context to fill in the missing pieces of the truth they both shared.
"Yeah," he says, curling turquoise marked fingers against the sleep warm sheets, "They're ours, dobe."
All at once, Naruto's upper body slumps against the mattress, fingers curling into the bedding a hairsbreadth from Sasuke's leg. Sasuke presses into it without thought.
"It's good to know for sure, I guess," Naruto says, the exhaustion of waking up hours before his alarm finally sinking over his features.
Leaning into the urge, Sasuke allows himself to reach out, trailing his fingers through the thick fringe of Naruto's hair.
"Usuratonkachi," he mumbles as Naruto leans into his touch, warm and solid against Sasuke's fingers as he's always been, "We already knew. The universe just needed time to catch up."
Sarada is fourteen years old when she finally works up the nerve to ask.
She's been a chuunin for almost two years now. Led her share of missions and been trusted with secrets and responsibilities that still shake her sometimes. The Hokage trusts her, and her team. Her mother doesn't worry as much when she's away. And her father… well. Things have been… better. Good. But there are still pieces missing. Pieces that she's tired of ignoring. Pieces that might explain the changes that have been trickling through her life like water slipping through gaps in a dam.
She was tired of waiting for those answers. So the moment she catches word that her father has returned to the village once again, she decides she won't wait any more.
She checks her mother's house first. Once upon a time that was where he'd stay, when spending more than a few scant hours in the village. It's been a long time since he's done that, but he still comes by to visit so she figures it's a safe enough place to start.
He isn't there. He also isn't at the training grounds with Boruto, the mission desk, Kakashi-ji-san's, or the Intelligence Offices. All places he's been known to frequent, now that he spends more time than ever in Konoha.
Ever since Shikamaru-san's uncle had finally retired and he'd accepted the Nanadaime's appointment as Jounin Commander.
She'd been stunned when he told her the news. For so long she'd been certain that nothing and no one would ever convince him to put down roots, and yet… one word from the Hokage and he'd done just that.
She hadn't fully wrapped her head around that fact, or what it meant.
Yet.
Without any other leads, she heads to the finally location on her mental itinerary.
The Nanadaime glances up at her as she bursts into his office.
"Sarada," he greets her with a smile, "I didn't know you were back from your mission already. How'd it go?"
"Fine. Nothing unusual to report," she answers quickly, not in the mood for small talk but categorically unable rebuff a direct question asked by her Hokage, "Where is he?"
He cocks his head, tapping his pen against his lip with a curious look, "Who?"
"My father," she huffs before consciously reining in her frustration— who else would she be asking about, honestly, "I know he's returned from the strategic summit talks with Kiri."
"… You weren't supposed to know about any summit with Kiri at all," he points out with a grin that's wry and approving all at once, "And he isn't scheduled to debrief until tomorrow, so he's probably at home. Have you checked there?"
"He wasn't," she insists, only to pause, "Wait… home? You— you don't mean my mother's house, do you?"
The amused look falls from his face, "No… I don't, y'know. Do you not know where he's been staying?"
"I knew he accepted the appointment," she says, "I suppose… it makes sense he would need a house in the village of his own, if he's to be stationed here full time. He didn't tell me he bought one though."
The thought… hurts, honestly. She'd thought they were past all this secrecy and distance.
The Hokage must detect something on her face, as he suddenly rises from behind his desk, coming around to lay a bandaged hand over her shoulder.
"He didn't," he assures her softly, "Come with me, y'know."
He leads her out of the office and up, higher into the tower. Toward the floors reserved for the Hokage's private residence. The residence he's lived in ever since Boruto's mother happened to find her soulmate, years ago.
That had been a rough time for Boruto. Surprisingly, it had been the Hokage's grace through the whole ordeal that had seemed to hold Boruto together at all as he felt like his world was falling apart.
He hadn't spoken to Hinata-san for weeks, despite the Hokage's encouragement and understanding. He'd even opted to stay with his father at the residence for months, along with— oh.
Oh.
How had she not thought of that before?
Naruto pushes open the door to his apartments. Across the room, through the open shouji doors, Sarada is abruptly unsurprised to see the dark silhouette of her father leaning against the balcony railing.
"Stay as long as you want," the Nanadaime says, before departing with a swish of his cloak.
At the sound of voices, her father turns, glancing over his shoulder in their direction.
He smiles when he sees them.
She feels her hackles dropping at the look.
"Sarada," he says, "Welcome home."
"I've been home longer than you," she tells him with a huff, stomping over to the balcony.
"Sorry, I didn't realize."
"Is this where you've been staying then?" she asks brusquely, coming up beside him at the railing, "It's awfully nice of the Hokage to let you use his apartments like this. You've been Commander for over a year— don't you think its about time you found a place of your own?"
She hears his hesitance in his drawn out pause after her words.
"Unless…" she says, "Unless you're planning to leave us again, that is."
"I'm not," he answers, both firm and soft at the same time somehow, "That part of my life is over, I think."
She nods, jerkily— not quite ready to believe him. Her father's life didn't follow the rhythms over everyone else's. Sometimes she wasn't even sure he knew how to stay in one place— how to be there for people. Herself, her mother. Boruto, his student. The Hokage, his best friend. Uchiha Sasuke had never followed traditional norms— she wasn't certain he was even capable of such a thing.
And yet… so much as been different, lately.
And she thinks it all starts with her father's soulmark, on the hand he'd worn a glove over his entire life, up until very recently. He hasn't said a word about it. Whether he's had it for years or gotten it recently. That question and many others have taken root in her mind, refusing to leave her alone.
"You know," she says slowly, "You don't… have to stay. Not if you don't want to. We've gotten by just fine without you before. We can do it again."
He looks… upset, at that, "I know you all managed fine without me. But I also know my absense was… difficult. For the people who care about me. The people I care about. I don't want to be that person anymore— for any of you. That's why I made the choice to stay. Not out of obligation, but of a desire for a new chapter of my life. One more about people than missions."
"But… why now? Why not before? What changed?"
"My priorities changed. That happens sometimes."
"But what if they change again?" she asks, a little desperately.
"I can't say they won't," he says, honestly, "But I learned from the best what it means not to go back on one's word."
"But then you would be staying out of obligation!"
"… That's not how relationships work, Sarada."
"It's not?"
"Not the good ones. The ones worth working— fighting— for. What's important about your relationships— soulmate or otherwise— isn't the universe's, or anyone else's, thoughts on the matter. It's what they mean to you. The work you put into them. And the happiness you get from them. You don't need a mark to determine that sort of thing."
"Like you and mom?"
"Sometimes," he nods, "There are different ways to care for and… love people. The way your mother and I love each isn't… isn't the kind of love you marry for, for example. But doesn't doesn't make it less important. Or that we don't make each happy, in our own ways."
"What's the point of soulmates at all then?" she throws her hands up in exasperation.
"I suppose… some people need help finding that person. The person who will make them happier than anyone else in the world. And soulmarks are destiny's way of trying to help us along."
"Does the universe ever get it wrong though?" she asks, "What if the person I want to be with and makes me the happiest isn't my soulmate?"
"There's nothing wrong with that. You would know better than the universe what you want— what's important to you. If that isn't someone who isn't marked for you, that doesn't mean they're any less important."
"Like you and mom?" she asks again.
"Like me and your mother," he confirms.
"Then what about…" she hesitates, "What about your soulmate? Mom has Akiko— who do you have?"
"My soulmate?" he asks, and she watches as he turns over his hand, the vibrant blue of his mark reflecting the warm evening light of sunset, "What do you want to know?"
"Who they are maybe?" she grumbles, "When did you meet? Do you love them? Do they make you happy?"
"… We haven't exactly been keeping it a secret," he responds dryly, "You really don't know who it is?"
"You're together?" she gasps, "And you haven't said anything?"
"We didn't think it was necessary," he says, and she can detect the defensiveness in his tone now, "Again, it wasn't a secret. If you didn't happen to notice, maybe you're promotion was premature after all."
She punches him in the arm, taking pride in his resulting wince.
"Watch it," he hisses back, rubbing his abused arm, "I only have one of those, you know."
"Maybe you should finally take the Nanadaime up on his offer for a… nother one…"
Wait a minute. The wheel start turning in her mind.
"Is your— are they someone you love? Like you love mom?"
"Not… not the same way, no."
"And have you known them a long time, or did you discover them recently?"
"… There's no easy way to answer that question. Both, I suppose."
Sarada scowls, "Would you want to marry them?"
"We haven't talked about it," he answers with a note of humor, "You don't have to interrogate me you know. You can just ask."
"No, no," she says, "You've insulted my professional capacity. I'll gather the necessary information and make my own determination, thank you."
"I see," he says, "Then by all means— gather away."
"You need to answer my questions then."
"… Alright, though I won't promise the answers will be helpful. Yes, we've known each other a long time. What feels like our entire lives. But no, we didn't discover our marks until recently."
"… That doesn't make any sense," she frowns, "You're being deliberately unhelpful, I think."
Maybe she had the wrong idea after all.
"I assure you, I'm not."
She thinks about his words from earlier.
"If you've known them a long time, you must have cared a lot about them. You don't have that many friends."
"That's correct."
"Have you always loved them?"
"Not… the way I should have," he admits, "The thing about loving someone… it often easiest to really hurt the ones who love us the most. I learned that the hard way."
"Oh," she says, subdued, "But you— you fixed it right."
"It took a lot of work— but yes. We fixed it."
"And this person— they make you happy?"
"They do. Sometimes I think I wouldn't know how to be happy, without them showing me."
"And do you make them happy?"
"… I try," he says, "Sometimes I think I even do a good job. I've had a long time to learn how, fortunately."
"But you only discovered your marks recently."
"Sarada," her father sighs, "Sometimes the simplest answer really is the best one. Who do you really think it is?"
She hesitates. For some reason concerned about being wrong— but takes his words to heart.
"It's the Nanadaime, isn't it?" she says, with more confidence than she feels, "But how did you not know?"
He hums, "In certain ways— the important ways— I did. The rest is… a long story."
"Would you…" she says, "Would you tell it to me?"
"It's not always a good story, you know," he says wryly, "Some of it is hard. Some of it boring. It's more the story of our lives, than anything."
"I think I'd like to hear it anyway," she says.
"Then I'd better put on some tea," he sighs, pushing away from the balcony at long last.
As she follows him inside, she asks, "You said you knew— but how?"
Abruptly, he turns dropping to a knee to face her closer to eye level. She almost startles as he lays a hand over her shoulder. It isn't often he acts so… fatherly. But there is something in his eyes that quells her immediate urge to protest the treatment.
"One thing you should know— and I want you to remember this, no matter who you end up with," he says, "Is that soulmate or not, love is a choice. One you have to make over and over and over again. It isn't always an easy one, and you may get it wrong sometimes, like I did. But it's worth it. Before I tell you everything, I just need you to know that. You and your mother and Boruto and Naruto. All of it has been worth getting to this point."
"I—" she stutters, "I— okay. I'll remember."
He nods once, before standing once more, "Good. Now I just need to figure out where to start, I suppose."
"At the beginning, maybe?"
"… In that case— when I was four years old, I didn't actually care about soulmates all that much, really…"
