Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Rise

Chapter 8

A few weeks later, sans a prior notice or warning, Sasuke receives a note from Kakashi saying in a few short, simple words that Itachi's grave was finished.

With no body to hold a proper funeral, placing a headstone at the cemetery was the only thing that could be done, and it seems that Kakashi did just that.

He reads the note over and over again until the words blur together and he can't bear to look at it anymore. The news—it jars him in a way he did not expect. For one, because he didn't even think about it, truthfully. He's never been one to visit graves, especially since his clan takes up an entire plot of land to themselves and the one time he did try to visit—three months after the massacre, when he was lost and furious and lonely and needed something, anything to relieve the pain that made him want to scream at the world until his voice broke as much as his heart and he simply couldn't scream anymore—he only lasted for thirty seconds before he threw up violently on the ground and sprinted out of there faster than he's ever ran before but still not fast enough and goddammit why, Itachi, why did you turn our family into a sea of headstones?

Two, because it means that Itachi is being recognized by the village for the sacrifices he made in this simple manner and it is not enough. Nothing will ever be enough to account for the life Itachi gave up so that the rest of the village could live in peace and harmony. In the past, Sasuke would have run to Kakashi, yanked him by the collar and snarled that this didn't make things okay in the slightest and he was stupid if he thought even for a second that it did—a simple fucking headstone almost seemed like a way of mocking his brother's life, cheapening it, as if a piece of rock could thank him for his sacrifice and leave it at that.

But Sasuke clutches the piece of paper in his hand and takes long, deep breaths. He knows that Kakashi meant no harm by it. If anything, Sasuke has the feeling that it was something the blond idiot put their new Hokage up to. He knows that they merely mean to respect his brother, and it's for that reason that he takes several minutes to calm down before allowing himself to step out of the apartment.

Sasuke's intention is to head straight to the cemetery, but he finds himself wandering, an invisible force driving his steps as he makes his way through Konoha's streets. It's midday—he was home eating lunch when he received the message—and various food stands are open on the streets, people milling around, stray cats padding softly through alleyways.

Sasuke passes by Ichiraku's and hears Naruto's loud voice coming from behind the drapes of the small ramen place followed by a shy, feminine giggle. The orange of Naruto's pants peeks through the bottom of the curtains, and Sasuke glances at them for a mere moment before continuing on through the streets.

People give him looks as he walks. They always do. He's used to it by now, used to the side glances, the furtive whispering and the gasps of fear. There's a lot less of them now—to his surprise, some villagers have even taken to the complete opposite, thanking him for his part in winning the War and welcoming him home whenever they see him—but still he finds it hard to ignore them.

Sasuke keeps his head down, hands in his pockets, as he turns corner after corner, circling about the village for what seems like hours. It's only when he notices the sun nearly brushing the horizon that he looks up and finds himself standing in front of the cemetery.

It's empty and ashen. The grass, the trees in the distance, the hundreds upon hundreds of headstones that litter the ground—they're all cast in grey, color seemingly stripped away and replaced with a solemn haze, a distinct chill sharpening the air.

Sasuke clenches his teeth and forces himself to step forward.

He remembers the location of his family's graves as if he were there yesterday. They're off in the corner of the graveyard and take up an eerily large amount of space. Sasuke picks his way through the headstones slowly, every muscle in his body tense, straining, not wanting to be there for even a millisecond longer.

But still he walks, and the moment Sasuke reaches his immediate family's graves and his eyes land upon the freshly planted headstone of his late brother, he finds it hard to take his next breath.

Uchiha Itachi, it reads. Brother, son, and martyr. A shinobi unlike any other whose sacrifices will never be forgotten. May he finally Rest In Peace.

His entire being grows still and he does not breathe. His hooded eyes—fixated upon the headstone, unblinking and dull—reflect a sort of emptiness that speaks of a past plagued with countless nights alone.

Sasuke's jaw tightens to the point that it's painful. His fingers dig into his palms and pierce the skin there, drawing blood.

And the graveyard—the graveyard is grey and barren yet crushingly, overwhelmingly haunted with the ghosts of his family. The wind howls through the trees and it turns his blood to ice yet sets it on fire at the same time.

"You don't have to forgive me," Itachi says, and his hand curls around the back of Sasuke's head, pulling their faces together until their foreheads touch and Sasuke finds himself staring into his brother's eyes—so incredibly alive and full of tenderness despite the fact that Itachi is dead, merely an animated corpse brought to life once again, wilting away as he speaks.

"No matter what you decide to do from now on," Itachi continues, voice warm, smile wide, and Sasuke feels himself shattering impossibly more at the sight as he finishes, "...I will love you forever."

And in that moment Sasuke knows that his brother loves him more than anything else in the world and always has, and it's too late and fuck, nii-san, please don't go—

But he's gone. Just like that. And Sasuke is left feeling more lost than he ever has before.

He should've known. He should've fucking known he wasn't ready for this. It's all too much for him to handle at once—too soon. He misses his brother with every cell in his body in that moment, hates himself so much he nearly chokes on it, standing there with Itachi's headstone sticking out of the ground because Sasuke is the one who killed the person who loved him most, and it's more than his self-control can bear.

In his haste to get anywhere that isn't the cemetery, to somehow tear himself away from the grief pulsing through his very bones, Sasuke almost misses the small, innocent-looking bouquet of flowers that rests at the foot of Itachi's grave. Shock and confusion anchor him where he stands, and he whips his head around, eyes narrowed, searching for whoever left it. His blood boils, because if this is some sort of sick joke he will not hesitate to take down whoever is behind it.

The crunch of a leaf behind him. He whirls around, muscled coiled, prepared to shift into action—

"Whoa there," a rough, age-worn voice lets out.

The owner of the voice is a small, frail-looking old woman with pale, wrinkled skin and bright white hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head. She's holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands, clutching at them as she gazes at him in surprise.

Sasuke's hand stills from where it rests on the handle of his chokutō. He doesn't sense any harmful intent coming from the woman, but still he can't find it in him to relax his body. The Sharingan whirls, lavender and crimson mismatched eyes narrowed at the old woman before him.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," she mutters, pulling the fabric of her wool cardigan tighter around her minuscule body with one hand and gripping the bouquet of flowers tight with the other. "Why so angry, young man?"

Sasuke merely pulls his hand away from his chokutō and deactivates his Sharingan. Takes a shallow breath, and then makes to step around her and away from the cemetery.

"You're Uchiha Itachi's kid brother, aren't ya?"

Her words have him stilling, twisting his head to stare at her heavily.

She nods at him and gestures with her free hand to his brother's grave, her deep brown eyes softening in her wrinkled face. "I left those flowers for him earlier. I had no idea the Rokudaime had his headstone created. It was about damn time, though."

Sasuke frowns, suspicious. "You knew my brother?" he questions sharply.

"No need to get all worked up, boy," she huffs, then pauses. The wind blows around them relentlessly, causing fallen leaves to swirl in the air in a flurry of red and orange. Quietly this time she rasps, "I knew him only for a bit, when he was still a child and you a mere babe. I own a restaurant—with my late husband in the past; thankfully my daughter and granddaughter are there to help me now—and would make trips to the market every Monday and Thursday to buy supplies. I'm older now, but even back then my joints were failing me, and one day I nearly collapsed from carrying all the bags with me." Her eyes grow fond as she recalls the memory. "Itachi was there that day and offered to help carry them, bless his soul. For the next year or so he would always suspiciously appear on the days I went to the market and carry my bags. Such a kind boy he was." A small smile crinkles the edges of her mouth and the lines around her eyes as she looks at Itachi's grave. "He would always smile and listen to whatever story I had to tell, even though he didn't speak much. The only times I could get him to really open up were when I asked about you. I'd never seen someone so young love another person so fiercely before."

Sasuke bows his head and is silent.

"It's the six-year anniversary of my husband's death today," the woman says quietly. "His grave is close to those of your clan, and I was coming to drop off some flowers to him when I noticed a new headstone had been added. I paid my respects to your brother and left him the bouquet I originally bought, then left to buy another because my husband would curse me from the heavens above if I didn't bring him his sunflowers. They've always been his favorite." She chuckles lightly. "I was just making my way back here when I saw you."

Words refuse to find purchase on his lips, and he clenches his hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

"You know," the woman adds, "even after I heard about the massacre all those years ago, I always believed that Itachi must've had his reasons—he was simply too good a person."

Sasuke's shoulders slump, and he feels the urge to crumble to the ground and lie there at the foot of his brother's grave until the grief and agony eat him alive. But his body refuses to move and he can do nothing but stand there in silence, listening.

"It made me happy to see Itachi finally being recognized by the village like he deserves," she continues in that hoarse, low voice. "Even though there's truly nothing that can speak of the sacrifices he made, it's nice to at least be able to come here and visit him. I'm sure he's looking down at us even now."

Slowly, achingly, Sasuke lifts his head and stares at the sky above. It's no longer grey and dreary, but rather a sea of clouds, bright against the pastel blue of the sky. He imagines Itachi watching over him, protecting him even from wherever it is he is now, loving him still, and it's exactly what he finds he needs. The wind suddenly doesn't seem so cold anymore. His hands relax, resting open at his sides.

"Keep on living, Uchiha-san," the old woman tells him. "Be happy, and make the most out of life despite the hardships that come with it. It's what Itachi would want."

A deep breath. His eyes close, and the wind caresses his skin as he responds quietly, "I'll try."

A/N: Hi there friends! I apologize for the long wait—I'm currently finishing up my last few weeks of college and also working two jobs so it's been a bit busy lately.

With that said, I don't know if you can tell with how the story's gone so far, but this little fanfiction doesn't have a huge, epic plot behind it, and I intended it to be that way from the beginning. It's a quiet piece, meant to showcase parts—some small and playful, others heavier and with far more meaning—of Sasuke's life in post-war Konoha. And while this story's main pairing is SasuSaku and it is, at heart, a romance fic, there's more to it than that, as you'll see in the upcoming chapters.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and once again I'd love it if you'd share your thoughts with me! They'd really give me strength as I try to finish up these last few weeks of school . :)

With love,

Shannon

P.S. It's implied in this chapter, but just to clarify: the village knows the details of Itachi's sacrifice in this story, which means Sakura knows as well.