Disclaimer: Sill don't own Naruto and likely never will.

A/N: So... it's been a month! I ended up getting into a car accident and now am sporting a solid concussion, updates will likely be sporadic. However! as I post this, I have already started on the next chapter! I still don't think that I have Sasuke's character fully down at this stage in his life because we don't ever get to see it, but my character notes file is a testament to my effort haha! And as always if you like this chapter/story or if you have some constructive criticisms please leave a review. Those always are a great motivator to keep going!

"I Don't Know. My Body Just Moved. There Was No Time To Think." - Sasuke Uchiha

The two made their way to a training ground just outside of Suna's borders. The landscape differed from ones that resided within Konoha. Lush green forests were now vast deserts that provided no cover. Here, opponents could not rely on their stealth, but rather their frontal combat skills. A skill that made sand nin not only ruthless, but deadly when pushed against a wall. Whenever team seven came to visit Suna, the Kazekage would allow them access to one of their training grounds which the trio often found themselves sparring within. Often leaving the terrain leaving worse for whether. Yet whenever they returned, the grounded appeared unchanged. Sand and wind covering up whatever the three threw at it.

Within the grounds, Sarada and the man, who introduced himself Arata, stood facing the other; both unwilling to make the first move. Curiosity hit Sarada like a bulldozer. This man, who was so content on being aloof and distant in the short time she had known him, had suddenly began crying. Without thinking she found herself bearing the weight of him on her shoulder. Despite his lean stature, the man was heavy. The name really didn't suit him. For someone whose name meant new beginnings, he seemed haunted by his past. The things that he said left a weird taste in her mouth. She was no stranger to estranged familial relations, but the ambiguity of his words and the implications of 'fought and won' set her on edge. What could have happened between the two?

Sarada was never the social butterfly like her teammate, so when he began crying Sarada offered the only way she knew to comfort herself - to spar.

Sarada analyzed the man before her. She knew little of his fighting style or what he was capable of: his physique was strong, one that indicated years of rigorous training; but it was also lean, meaning that he relied less on taijutsu, leaving nin, gen, ken, or bukin jutsu. That is... if he didn't engage in more controversial jutsus. Judging by the sword it was safe to surmise that kenjutsu was well within his ability. She wondered what he would use, what techniques resided within his arsenal, and most of all how he would use those techniques.

The two stared at each other, standing their ground, moments ticked by as they sized the other up. Arata's look of cool indifference irked her. He was looking down on her as if she were a mere child and not a Konoha ninja and certainly not the capable chunin she was. But she wasn't Boruto, she would not charge into battle recklessly to prove a point. No. Her moves would be deliberate.

Sarada braced her feet, reached into her weapons pouch, and flung a pair of shuriken at Arata. A blink of her eyes and the shuriken were flying away into the distance having missed their target.

That was impossible. There was no way that she could miss. Sarada was at the top of her class in marksmanship, she had even trained blind to improve her aim. So how had she missed? Sarada's eyes widened in realization. No. She had not missed. Arata had simply moved out of the way. A movement too quick for the naked eye to see. Shunshin. The only indication of his shift was a small indent in the sand a couple centimetres by Arata's feet. She must have hit her head somewhere if she didn't think that a man like Arata, who exuded an aura of warrior, couldn't perform a basic move like shushin. Sarada found the urge to facepalm at her own stupidity.

Sarada gathered chakra into a closed fist and geared up for impact. Like her mother, it was her signature move - effective in its shock value. Sarada's fist collided with the earth. Tendrils of sand reached up to caress the sun's warm glow, shadowing the playing field.

"That won't work on me again," Arata said. His voice was muffled by the sand barrier.

Sarada activated her sharingan and rushed forward. She swung at him with everything she had. But for every swing, he swiftly dodged to the side. Not bothering to parry or make an attack of his own. He wasn't even fazed by her attacks, instead he looked amused. Her sharingan caught the slight upward tip of his lips. A barely there smirk, that taunted her, egged her on, dared her to do her best, but still told her that her best was not enough.

Each of her punches were infused with chakra. Punches that weren't meeting their target and chakra that had nowhere else to be released were wasted. Sarada had not been blessed with a massive chakra reserve like her father, nor did she have chakra control as precise as her mothers. If this kept up, Sarada was sure to reach depletion soon.

Sarada leapt back, adding space between her and Arata. In the air, she flung chakra infused kunai at him. They sped faster and aimed more precisely than normal kunai. Masked by the still tumbling sand and Arata's own haughtiness, the blade slid by his cheek just below his eye, leaving behind a thin slice that now dripped blood. It had only been a surface wound, but Sarada would take any victory she could get, no matter how small.

The sound of a thousand birds filled the air as Arata sent a chidori through his blade. Sarada only ever knew two people who used this technique, one was its creator the other her father, and both were now within Konoha's borders. While it was entirely possible that Arata copied the move through his sharingan, that would suggest that this man has come across her father or lord sixth. A thought that only brought about more questions.

Chirping birds crackled too close to her left ear. The air beside it buzzed with electricity lifting strands of her hair. The sand had begun to settle down. Before her, Arata stood with his right hand gripping the hilt of the kusanagi. It had only been inches away from severing her head. The chidori slowly faded away. Arata's hand trembled slightly, shaking his blade and shifting the air by her neck. For a few moments longer, Arata stood unmoving, shock clearly coloured his face. With a sharp exhale of his breath, Arata's face returned to neutrality hiding all emotion. Removing the sword from her neck, he glided the flat edge against the rim of his sheath to find the thin opening.

These moves! They were similar, far too similar to be a coincidence. An image flashed behind her eyes. A picture frame that her mother often looked at when she thought no one was looking. A picture frame that Sarada often overlooked. Inside it, rested a picture of her parents' team as genin. Her dad as a genin. Another image flashed, a group picture with her teenage father and his other team. How had she not remembered it until now? For it was that very same picture that caused her to believe her mother was not her mother. The same picture that spurred a journey to meet her dad and here he was; but only now he was nearly 20 years younger.

xXx

Tension coated the air, thick with unanswered questions. Sasuke never backed down from a fight; never second guessed his moves; and never stopped an attack mid fight. So why had he done it now? With a flick of his wrist that held his blade, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his head. There could be no other reason than that he simply didn't want to and Sasuke never did anything that he didn't want to.

"Let's go." Sasuke called out over his shoulder to Sarada. Already over this child's play of a spar. There was a new hardness to his voice. One that was used when he pushed people away. Even as he said that, he could not push away whatever emotions he felt for that girl. What was it about her? That made him act so unlike himself, so at ease, where he could be vulnerable without hesitation. But try as he might, those emotions remained. A flicker of something deep within sparked - a bond in its infancy.

Silently the two made their way back inside the confines of Suna. It was mid-day. The sun once again at its peak, beat the earth with its rays. Sweat dripped off his forehead, a testament to the heat. He was grateful for the clothes he wore, despite their unbreathable cloth, no longer did he fall victim to the burning sun above.

The streets were not as busy as they had been that morning, most having reached their desired locations. The ones that remained still paid him no heed. Sasuke reveled in his anonymity. For so long he was the center of attention for Konoha, and even some other villages. Constantly, he looked over his shoulder, worried that hunter teams would come to waste his time in futile attempts as assassination; or trackers would come to try and take him back to a village that would not welcome him. Here, Sasuke was no one. And he never knew being no one would be so relieving. No past to shackle his future, no bonds to worry about, and nothing but him guided the road ahead.

"Boruto, Mistuki, what are you doing? Where's Akio?" Sarada called out.

In the distance, Boruto and Mitsuki stood outside of a small house, tucked away in a forgotten alley. Boruto with his hands behind his head, leaned against the clay structure to one side of the door; Mitsuki stood on the other.

"Akio told us to stand guard while he's in a meeting or something. Yuuto went in with him. Anyway, where were you two?" Boruto answered. His eye's zeroing in on the new cut Sasuke sported on his face. So the brat is observant after all, Sasuke thought, amused.

Sasuke didn't know why the girl flushed pink. All they had done was go to the hospital and spar. After all these years, he still didn't understand the inner workings of women. Not that he ever really had a chance to interact with them apart from annoying fangirls that had flung themselves at him at every chance.

"We- Ah!" In one swift motion, Sasuke grabbed Sarada's upper arm and yanked her to the other side of him. Not a moment later, a man riding a dingy bike had barreled past the very spot that she had stood on. A distant sorry was heard as the man continued on, not looking back. Sasuke watched as he rode away, tempted to follow him. But to do what exactly? It's not like there was a reason to follow, he hadn't hurt Sarada. Even if he had, Sasuke had no reason to care. Turning back he was greeted with three pairs of eyes on him. Each one's face held a different emotion. It was Mitsuki, who held an amused smile that bordered on creepy, that seemed to piss him most.

"What?" he questioned.

"Umm thank you." He didn't think it was possible but the girl had somehow become even more red than before. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, finding the small rock by her feet exceptionally interesting, using her foot to kick it side to side.

"It's fine." Sasuke had always been a man of few words. Besides, his body had simply moved on its own. There was nothing to be thankful for. Their eyes bore into him looking for something more that he could not provide.

"How long have they been in there for?" Sasuke asked, turning the conversation away from himself. He glanced towards the old wooden door. Nor dust or rust coated the metal that held wood to clay, indicative of this land's lack of rainfall or open water source. Muffled voices beyond the door could be heard. Not loud enough to gather information, but quiet enough that anyone would be able to tell the serious nature of their words.

It was Mitsuki who answered, while Boruto continued to stare at him with distrust. "An hour. He didn't say when they would be finished. Looks like we could be here for a while longer."

Sasuke was oddly reminded of his old life back at Konoha. The times where Naruto, Sakura, and him spent hours waiting on the old bridge overlooking a small river for their ever-late sensei. So in true Sasuke fashion, he perched against the wall beside Boruto, crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and waited - waited until the young noble would make his exit or waited until his patience grew thin. Either way, he was in no rush to be anywhere.

After crying, the burden and pain he felt all these years began ebbing away. Sasuke knew that it would be a long time before he finally felt free from the shackles of his past, or even free from his emotions but what he did know is that there was a lightness on his shoulders and a newfound ability to fully breath. It was… intoxicating. Even the hot air transformed into a fresh breeze that vibrated with life itself.

Even when the trio waited

And waited.

And waited.

Sasuke could not muster an ounce of annoyance.

xXx

Hours ticked by, the sun's slow shift west was the only indication of time passing. Buildings cast long shadows that engulfed the group as they silently sat outside the clay door guarding their hire. The temperature, while much more manageable, bit into overheated skin. A cool breeze passed, clothes, hair, and sand fluttered in its wake.

Once more, the streets filled as people finished a long day's work. Most shed the turbans and face coverings that protected against the sun's rays. Unlike the early morning hustle, they walked at a more leisure pace. Free of their job's burdens for the day. A different type of calmness settled.

A gruff laugh caught Sasuke's attention. A man probably in his forties, built for manual labour turned the corner. A petite woman smiled up at him, with a face that held no cages or boundaries. Her delicate hand was encompassed within the man's own. The other balanced a wicker basket filled with groceries on her hip. They looked so… domestic. They looked at each other with such softness that left a heaviness within Sasuke.

It was as if he was transported back to his family's manor. Sasuke's mother, never one to hesitate to show her affections, contrasted to the tough and strict exterior of his father. But, when his parents were alone, unaware of peering eyes, he would catch them sharing that same gaze. One that broke his fathers shell and revealed a man that so dearly loved his family. His parents were a unit, one that showed no hesitation in their unyielding and unsaid support for one another, always there.

And as if he was suddenly reminded of his introduction with his genin team, he remembered his second promise.

'I will restore my clan'.

He wondered if there was ever going to be a time where even he could be this at ease, hand-in-hand with… No. That was a life he couldn't be selfish to wish for. For it was a life that wasn't his to live. The idea itself seemed laughable now, he stifled a snort. His preteen self had taken for granted the implication of those words. Clearly not realizing the actions it would take to accomplish said goal.

Sasuke was a shinobi. Or at least the mockery of one he had been long ago.

Boruto and Mitsuki, on one side of the door, took to playing a game of jacks tossing up cool smooth pebbles that littered the road. Their hands coated with a thin dust of sand moved with ease picking up pebble after pebble before the one in the air succumbed to gravity. Their conversations halted hours before when the three exhausted all topics they could think of.

Even Sasuke eventually sat down, his legs leaden from standing still. Sarada to his left was the only one left standing, like the ever disciplined shinobi she was. Every so often, Sasuke would catch her glancing over at him. The array of emotions present on that small naïve face were enough to have him on edge. She looked at him with a type of familiarity that he'd only ever seen in his family. Like she somehow looked past his exterior, into his very being, and saw the man that he wished to be.

But no one knew Sasuke, not in the ways that mattered at least. Even Naruto could never understand the depth of his self loathing, spurred by the inability to protect those that matter to him.

The door that they guarded for so long flung out to slam against the clay wall it was attached to. Even with a face covering and clasped jet black cloak masking their identity, a person emerged with a haughtiness that rivalled that of a king who knew no-one could touch him. The mystery person left, walking away as if they did not sense four pairs of eyes that watched him curiously.

It was Sasuke that peered inside the house and found it dark. Darker than it should have been for any business meeting. Brushing the uneasiness aside, Sasuke scanned the interior. It, like most houses, was plain. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing except for the figures within. Akio sat hunched over on a couch that faced a small tea table and another couch. While his eyes were shrouded by brown and honey-gold tendrils of hair, his mouth was set with a scowl. Yuuto flanked his right side behind the couch, speaking in hushed tones that even Sasuke could not make out.

As Akio rose the scowl remained. In the short time Sasuke spent with the duo, he had not known Akio to wear an expression as such. It was as Akio made the slow turn towards the door that the alarm bells ringing in the back of Sasuke's mind pressed with far more urgency. But before Sasuke had the time to process what he just witnessed, Akio's demeanour changed to one he knew well. As if the scowl was no more than a trick of the light.

Dismissing what he witnessed on stress, pushed off the ground and patted the sand off his clothes. Boruto and Mitsuki following his lead did the same and clapped their hands flinging little particles of dust in the air that tickled his nose. The others, it seemed, were not alerted to anything out of the ordinary. If they had, their bored expressions gave nothing away.

"Sorry about the long wait," Akio said as he exited the house with Yuuto in tow.

"It's what we're here for," Sarada responded. She met Akio's easy look eye for eye. But that wasn't what Sasuke noticed. No it was the hint of a blush that peppered her cheeks that held his attention. A there but not there pink.

It was not the same blush that she looked at him with. For him, she blushed out of curiosity. But for Akio, she blushed for something more. Much like how the girl he left on that bench long ago looked at him.

And how it irked him.

Hell, even Sasuke could admit that Akio wasn't the worst looking person. Anyone with eyes and the right sexual attraction would go for him. But Sarada couldn't be more than 12 and Akio couldn't be any younger than him. A persistent nagging repeated in his head over and over.

Without really knowing why, Sasuke stepped between the two. His body facing neither, trained quite intently on the road. Sarada to his left and Akio to his right. Boruto directly in front, hands in his pockets and nonchalantly slouched, raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. But Sasuke did not have the answers, his body simply moved on its own accord where the girl was concerned. An occurrence that was happening far more frequently than he wished.

A low grumble passed. Boruto's face puffed out, holding in a laugh that would piss Sasuke off. Sasuke himself sported a slight blush. But he stared ahead unlooking at anyone, refusing to acknowledge that the grumble had emitted from his stomach.

"I think It's time for dinner," Mitsuki said with that unchanging smile of his.

"Wouldn't want Arata over here starving to death, just after we saved him," Boruto snickered.

"Boruto," Sarada cut in, reprimanding.

Akio stepped out of the doorway, closing the door and hiding all the secrets within. "Shall we?" he said as he lazily started down the road.

xXx

It was pointless. This conversation, with him, with someone who was so deluded in their own plans that he could not tell right from wrong or see its flaws

But just a little more, a little more, then he could be free. For so long he had only done what others told him to do, made choices that only bought him and those around him pain. But soon, no more. Death would come to greet him with cool comforting hands and shadow his sorrow. In a way that it was there but unseen to everyone including him.

He rose, peering down his nose at the man. "I will consider it," he said before fastening the cloth over his face and pulling the hood over his head once more.

He opened the door slightly. A strong wind ripped the handle out of his hand and slammed the door against clay.

Four eyes peered at him curiously, but he would acknowledge none. He would walk with his head held steady. Even if his knees wobbled and his throat scratched. Even if just glimpsing at that one person both strengthened and broke his resolve. Even if he wanted nothing more than to face that person. But he would not, he would continue to walk away.

It was not time. One day, soon, they would face each other in battle. Soon.