There were so many things she'd gone over in her head over the years—so many things she wanted to say to him when she saw him. She'd wanted to scream at him, to forgive him, to ask him why, why those words, why couldn't he take her with him, why did he wait so long to come home? She wanted to make him hurt as much as he made her hurt, to make him suffer the loneliness she did because of him, and she wanted to make it all better and show him this was where his home and family was.
She'd had three years to play out the ways she'd react once they finally brought him home, or what would happen if he suddenly showed up on his own in the night like he left, and then he went and ruined all of those scenarios. She shouldn't have been surprised at all when he showed up the way he did, right in the middle of battle when she could do none of what she'd wanted to.
The battle was finally over now, they'd secured the future with the help of the past and present at once, and in the process gotten back what was most precious to all of them.
The battlefield was still a mess now, with people slowly picking themselves back up from the chaos, working through their collective disbelief. Naruto and Hinata were a short distance away, he on his knees and she holding him tightly, helping him through watching his father vanish into dust.
Sasuke…Sasuke stood between where she stood and Naruto knelt, staring dispassionately at the point where Obito and the Juubi had vanished into.
She realized that she'd spoken his name only when his gaze shifted from that spot to her, and she thought—through that dispassionate guise—his expression might have softened with…something. Relief, curiosity, apology?
She wasn't sure.
Before she quite processed it, her feet began to propel her forward. A few of her steps were little more than stumbling, and then, as she became aware of her movement, she broke into a run, charging across the small distance and flinging herself into his arms. "Sasuke!" Her voice was little more than a choked sob, as she curled around him, burying her face into his chest.
Everything she'd wanted to say, everything she'd planned, all the things she'd wanted him to feel and to know and to do, all of it melted away into those broken sobs instead.
He'd finally come home.
He'd come home.
He didn't say anything—of course not—not an apology, nor an explanation, nothing. Still, his arms curled around her as well, and after a moment she felt him bury his face in her hair and draw an unsteady breath.
Maybe that wasn't such a terrible answer to a question that never got to be asked.