Disclaimer: Still don't own Naruto, or else I would upload quicker.

A/N: I haven't given up on this fanfic just yet! I had written most of it and then anxiety hit that maybe I wasn't writing enough per chapter, or that my writing style was more bland now than it was in the first chapter. I was so afraid of continuing to write this for a little bit there! I used to wonder how writers go months between updating... now I know. It was a humbling experience. But if you do like my writing, depiction of Sasuke, story line or anything else please review! It truly does motivate me to keep writing.

"Once more before I leave this world… I wish to hear him call me Elder brother." - Itachi Uchiha

Sarada and Akio took the lead; Yuuto closely trailed the two, Boruto and Mitsuki behind them while Sasuke took the rear. All, except Yuuto and Sasuke, engaged in animated conversations about their next meal. Sasuke shoved his hands in his pockets, a casual gesture that attempted to hide his earlier embarrassment.

A cool breeze wafted through the air, carrying with it mouth-watering scents of various Suna delicacies. The group passed an array of restaurants on their hunt. Each one, to his dismay, was rejected by Boruto and Akio, claiming some fault or another. Another grumble threatened to shake his cool demeanor. He hung back to let the sounds of civilians drown out the low rumble that soon burst through. It wasn't until just then that Sasuke realized he hadn't eaten a solid meal in three days. Tied to the whims of these children, without any money, Sasuke would have to resort to scavenging. Previous experiences had taught him not much lay beyond Suna's borders. Even Sasuke, a man who refuses help from others, had developed a whisper of self-preservation skills in his years as a fugitive.

His earlier, near saintly, patience was running thin. He fantasized grabbing Boruto by the collar and dragging the child to the nearest place that sells food.

Sasuke Uchiha was not one to be messed with when hungry.

Suna's streets were lined with colourful stalls, its vendors shouting out bargains and deals in hopes of enticing just one customer. Three days later, and it was only now that Sasuke stopped to observe his surroundings. A miss-step that, in most cases, could have ended fatally in his life as a ninja.

The group closed in on a large gathering of bodies. Commotion filled the air. Through a small gap, Sasuke caught sight of a small stage, where an announcer stood tall and with a booming voice stated:

"Going once, going twice… Sold to the lady in the purple kimono," boasted the announcer.

On a podium, beside the announcer, a pair of twin dual blade short swords were displayed crossed over one another to resemble an 'X' in the wood. Their hilts were wrapped in a beautiful turquoise fabric that stood out against the beige backdrop of Sunagakure. The blades resembled fangs: split in two at the base of the hilt. The woman who purchased it seemed like a regular civilian, but behind all the layers, something about the way she carried herself told a different story. Her shoulders held the confidence and elegance of a true ninja.

Fans, sealed pots, swords, bows, and other various artefacts lined the back of the stage. As the twin blades were sheathed and handed to its new owner, the next object was placed on the podium - A fan. Nothing interesting.

He didn't know whether it was hunger or simply the hermit nature of his lifestyle, but even in the open air, Sasuke felt suffocated. The peace he felt earlier had long been snuffed out. This he knew, was not like the panic attack he felt earlier in the hospital. Now, it was like a hand that scraped along his throat forcing it closed. He needed to get away from the ever-growing crowd. Sasuke took a few steps backward, before he turned away onto a quieter street leaving his makeshift companions behind.

Here, Sasuke felt his shoulders relax. His thoughts finally had room to emerge now that street noise ceased to invade his ears.

He approached a clay bench where five kids sat huddled together. Three peered over the shoulder of the middle two, who held strange devices in their hands. They shouted words of "loser" "cheater" "I win" "I call a rematch." Sasuke wondered what exactly the kid had won. As he passed, Sasuke glanced over to see. Their nimble thumbs soared through sequences of buttons that affected what happened on the screen. It didn't take Sasuke long before he memorised what sequence caused what action.

Orochimaru' hideout always had a weird and new gadget or another; all of them served a purpose. This device, the one that the kids held, depicted little figures engaged in an awkward dance that could resemble a fight. Perhaps its purpose was to simulate new fighting styles and techniques? But that seemed like an ineffective way to learn. Sasuke always believed that the best way to learn was through blood, sweat, and tears.

He stood behind the quintet entranced by the screen. In a way it reminded him of when he, Naruto, and Sakura stuck to the roof of a theatre to watch Yuki Fujikaze's new movie at the time; and of the childhood he barely caught a glimpse of.

"Oye! Arata! Where did ya go?!" Even with a few yards and buildings separating them, Boruto's voice rang clear. A dull throb began at Sasuke's temples as he stepped away from the children. Boruto's high-pitched voice seemed to have that effect.

"There he is!" Through his peripheral vision, he caught sight of a familiar blurb of colours. Sasuke let his nose guide him to the nearest restaurant, no longer willing to listen to the whims of Boruto and his stomach. A direction that was conveniently away from the five that followed him.

"Geez man slow down will you…," Boruto called out. "It's not like you can pay for anything anyway," He added with a whisper. A loud smack ran through the air, followed by an Ow! Though it irked him how true that fact was, Sasuke had been more preoccupied with getting food in his system. His stomach grumbled for a third time in the span of a half an hour. Like a clock that chimed in an open room and called out for all who would hear. Embarrassing.

He sped up, his footsteps bordered on casual and speed walking. His nose led him straight to a small hut, off in the corner, dwarfed by both its neighbouring buildings. As if it were a child being simultaneously protected and overshadowed by two grown ups. An apt comparison to the orphans that littered the streets of Konoha.

Its interior, much like the exterior, was nothing to boast about. The restaurant, if it could even be called that, could only fit two rows of five booths that lined its walls. Not one was occupied. Sasuke headed for the furthest one away from the door and counter.

The place looked neglected. Wood chipped off the tables, years of use marked the booths' taking away its once bright red colour, at the edges the barest hint of peeling wallpaper could be seen. Yet, it had a charm that no new place could ever replicate. This place held the memories of each life that passed through. It was not bright nor shiny, far the opposite really, it did not exude a sense of distance that urged customers to come, eat, and leave quickly so the next slot could occupy its seats. No. People came here, laughed here, shared stories and company here. People enjoyed being here.

Shadows encased the booth and created a much cooler atmosphere than the rest of god-forsaken Suna. The window beside the booth offered no view, but the old clay of the building over that was close enough to touch. Arms crossed, Sasuke leaned up against the corner of the walls and let the cool slabs of clay absorb the heat from his body.

Beside him Yuuto then Boruto slipped in; directly in front sat Sarada, then Akio, and finally Mitsuki closed in the duo. With everyone in place, a surly waitress sashayed over with a couple of flimsy, falling apart pieces of paper in her hand. Not that Sasuke would notice her eyeing him with a weird type of interest. No, he was too busy examining the way Sarada looked at him. Not overtly of course, Sasuke was far too subtle for that.

It had been three and a half hours since their little spar, three and a half hours that Sarada would steal quick glances over to him when she thought he was not paying attention. But Sasuke noticed everything. Well mostly everything, even the shift in the way that she looked at him. With far more intrigue and far less weariness since their first encounter.

It unsettled him.

What had changed so much that suddenly changed the way the young girl looked at him?

Before he could thoroughly come up with plausible explanations, the waitress spoke. Her voice grated his ears. It was raspy, the type of raspy that belonged solely to someone who chain smoked most of their life. The odour that emanated off of her reflected just as much.

The waitress flung the paper at them with a disregard that showed just how absolutely and utterly she would rather be anywhere else. Sasuke could only assume that this woman had been around since the opening of this place. But her eyes looked as if it lost their twinkle as the restaurant lost its liveliness.

"There's the menu, call me when you people pick something," with that she sauntered back behind the counter, sat on a squeaky chair that was one feather away from collapsing, and began to read the latest edition of Suna's entertainment weekly.

The menu in question displayed a meagre five food options, and water or tea on the side. It was slim pickings; yet it would have to do, Sasuke didn't have the patience in him to find another place.

Boruto leaned over the table towards Mitsuki. "And this is why we don't let the crazies pick," he whispered loudly in the way only Boruto could. Akio snickered while joining the two.

Had the two idiots not realised that he was close enough to hear every detail in crystal clear clarity? Were they always this dense? Or did they just not care? Sasuke thought. Without food to satiate him, his patience was spider silk thin. Ready to snap at one more comment. The vein on the side of his forehead, hidden by his bangs, protruded slightly. In the two years that Sasuke had defected from the village, his eyebrow twitch had nearly ceased to exist. And yet this Naruto look-alike had so easily resurrected it back to life.

As Sasuke stared at the table space directly in front of him, a glass, frosted over from the cold liquid inside, entered his vision. A dainty hand that hadn't quite seen war receded quickly. Not bothering to fully tilt his head up, he looked at Sarada through half closed eyes. Only to find that she looked shyly back. Her eyes flickered to the proffered drink that now sat close to the edge of the table. It's cool air intermingled with the breeze that entered through the open window.

Sasuke took a sip and let the cold water wash away his mugginess. His disinterested eyes, this time, did not leave Sarada's.

xXx

Papa. That was her Papa. But how could he simultaneously be so similar yet so different from the man that she recently came to know. Yes, her dad was the brooding quiet type, but compared to the teenager in front of her, her father was… Happier? Content? He was livelier than the boy before her.

The last Uchiha, that's what people had called Sasuke Uchiha long ago before she was born. But what had happened? Much of her past had been hidden from her. Any questions she asked were met with blockades or aloof answers that raised more questions. Would asking him now be any different? Even this version of her father was just as tight-lipped as her father and mother. There were so many questions swirling in Sarada's head that she did not notice when six pairs of eyes flickered over to her, waiting. In her momentary lapse, the waitress had once again made her way over. She leaned onto her right root and rested a hand on her protruding hip. The light tap, tap, taps made by her left foot, signified her unamused state.

"Uhh earth to Sarada," Boruto said bemused, with an out-stretched arm he waved his arm before her face.

"What?" She asked, fighting the blood that would have rushed to her face.

"Where did you leave us and go?" Akio laughed.

"What are you ordering?" leave it to Mitsuki to answer her question at the very end.

With a quick glance at the menu, she picked the first thing her eyes came upon - a bento box.

"Alright, that's two bento boxes, three bowls of ramen, and one chicken burger," The waitress said. Sarada could guess which order belonged to who.

It didn't take long before the waitress came back holding a large platter that held all of their orders. The aroma was nothing compared to the food at home. Has it already been three days since she left her village and family? Just three days, the longest she had been away from home; and yet, she was already home sick. How had her father gone 12 years without meeting her or her mother.

"Well I've finished what I came here to do. But I don't want to go just yet. We could go sightseeing," Akio suggested.

"Not that I'm opposed to the idea, but we have our orders: escort you to and from Suna when your work has finished." It wasn't like she hadn't bent the rules before, often at the behest of Boruto. But Sarada was eager to get back to the village. She needed answers: why was the teenage-version of her father here? Could he possibly answer her questions? And most importantly, is this a trap?

It hadn't escaped Sarada, even in her fantasy stricken state, that she was a ninja and dangers lurked where those who are naive resided. Sarada was anything but naive.

Her bento contained delicacies found in only Suna, the names of which even she didn't know; as well as the usual assortment of rice, sweet rolled eggs, vegetables, meat, and… tomatoes.

Sarada picked at her tomatoes, the ripe red colour no more enticing with the sheen of juice that coated the top. Every time her mother would cook with tomatoes, Sarada would at least try one, if only just one day hoping to see what her father likes about the fruit. But nothing ever changed: she would pucker her lips as the sweet tang erupted from a single bite. She brought a cherry tomato close, examining its exterior and delaying the inevitable urge to gag. And like always as soon as she bit into it, Sarada clenched her teeth to cease the ache that came from its tang.

"Suna has such beautiful sights," Akio protested.

"Yeah if you consider sand and more sand beautiful sights…" Boruto retorted.

…

"... Yeah, it's Sarada's favourite mystery novel. I heard it's being adapted into a movie."

"At least now you can understand it, Boruto," Sarada said with a chuckle.

Sarada felt eyes burning into her head. She had been so engaged in her conversation with Akio and Boruto that she didn't notice her body moving on its own. Through her peripheral vision she caught eyes with her… what should she even call him in her head? Arata? her teenage-father? Potential enemy? Whatever he was, he was staring back at her. His expression was blank yet pensive, confused. It was then that she noticed her hand hovering in between both their bento boxes, a cherry tomato neatly tucked in between her chopsticks ready to be plopped onto his box. The tomatoes from her own box were nearly gone, having been transplanted into the adjacent box.

If today had taught her anything, it would be that she had a long way to go before she could call herself a true ninja. A ninja must always be aware of their surroundings: the environment, the actions of others, and importantly their own actions, everything matters. And yet, here she was again caught unawares.

Sarada's cheeks flushed a deep red, ironically matching the same shade of red that was held in her chopsticks. "Uh… I-I'm sorry!" She blurted out. Her hand unfroze as she shakily brought the tomato back to her.

xXx

The aroma of the oncoming food simultaneously made his stomach silently grumble and head throb. The lack of sustenance had taken an utter toll on his body. He could feel the muscles in his body screaming for any sort of calories. Three days and his ribs were already beginning to peek out beneath his muscles. The fullness of his youthful cheeks now consumed by the body's natural response to starvation.

The waitress slid the bento boxes down the short table. Both stopped in front of its intended targets. The rest was forgotten. All that mattered was the food that sat right in front of him. The bentos in question had three layers. He laid all three side by side and examined the contents. Mouth-watering and neatly arranged. An added plus to the perfectionist that was Sasuke Uchiha. Although, anything at this point would be mouth watering to Sasuke.

His chopsticks aimed for the slice of beef that was nestled in the corner of the left box. His lips shone from the oil residue. If he had it in him, Sasuke probably would have cracked the same dopey grin Naruto gets with ramen.

Sasuke listened to the conversation before him, watching as one mundane conversation bled into another one. His own once-upon-a-time team didn't speak as much. Yes, sometimes Naruto or Sakura would blubber on about something or another trying to fill in the silence. Eventually even those conversations would wither away into nothingness, what was left was an uncomfortable silence that they chose not to acknowledge. Yet the group before him remained animated. Even after a half an hour their conversations did not falter. A significant feat considering he thought they had exhausted all conversational topics during their earlier guard duties.

Yet even from these mundane conversations, he could glean only the barest of hints about his young hostages. Sarada was their chinin leader, quiet but resilient; Mitsuki had a weird obsession with Boruto and acted as if he were a baby unknowing of how to navigate the new world around him; and finally Boruto, the boy was as loud as ever, someone who acted before they thought.

But it still wasn't enough information to use in case… of whatever the trio would and could pull. In none of their conversations throughout the day, could he understand why they latched onto him, so keen to drag his still very broken body around wherever they pleased.

He looked out the window, only to be reminded of its very limited view of the outside. It was in fact not the best place to sit. It left the trio unaware of what occurred just outside these doors. He could hear the streets as they winded down for the night. A soft red glow streamed through the open window and tinted everything it touched with a film of pink. In moments like this, Sasuke liked to observe the beauty of the world. It had been a small reprieve from his ever persistent need to meet his goals. Now… he could finally take the time to fully enjoy it.

Sasuke set down his chopsticks finally satiated enough to not hog down his food like a pig. He leaned his head on his propped up hand and looked out the window. When Sasuke looked up, through the smallest of slivers between the buildings, he caught sight of a brilliant night sky. The purple, blue, and red shades calmed down to reveal the twinkling lights of night. Sasuke was never one for sentimentalities, he was far too seasoned of a brooder to believe in such a thing. But sometimes, in his days wandering, he would let himself imagine that those same twinkling lights were the shine of his family looking down upon him. The brightest two were always his father and mother. He imagined their light as protection against his lonely road. And every time, just when Sasuke was about to let down his guard and shed years worth of repressed tears, he would reel in those feelings and return to the man everyone knew he was.

At the corner, where the two buildings intersected in his line of vision, a new star, brighter than he'd ever seen before, shone. Itachi? 'Forgive me, Sasuke. There won't be a next time' He had said, before he died.

Truly… Sasuke thought… there won't be a next time.

Sasuke could still feel the sticky feeling of Itachi's blood on his hands, the crunch of broken bone, when he hit him just right, and the undeniable feeling of devastation. Devastation that sasuke knew he should not be feeling, for Itachi was the same man that took everything he loved away from him in a single night. Devastation, loss, longing for a life forgotten: these feelings were probably chains from a failed past.

Once again a small hand entered his peripheral vision, carrying in a bright red cherry tomato. Sasuke didn't move, he still faced the window, but remained watching from the corner of his eye, it receded and returned carrying another tomato. Now, he wasn't opposed that the little red fruits had made their way onto his platter, his penchant for the things could never allow it. What he was… was confused. Three little red cherry tomatoes sat neatly in an empty square in his box. A fourth little one would soon join the party.

For a girl so dead set on becoming the hokage, another fact he gleaned, she sure didn't act accordingly.

Sasuke rested both elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers in front of his face.

Waiting.

Waiting for the girl to notice her actions. It was when the fifth tomato hovered between their boxes that Sarada noticed her actions. Her head snapped to the left and widened eyes stared back. A deer in headlights, about to be bulldozed by an oncoming car. It was amusing really. Sasuke hid his small smirk behind interlaced fingers. Only to jut out his hand when Sarada shakily withdrew. He plucked the little red thing out of her chopsticks with his own. One-by-one all of the cherry tomatoes lay neatly in his box. Sarada averted her eyes.

The overhead lights flickered on, once, twice, thrice until the building was purged in a calming yellow light. Illuminating parts of it that before were hidden in shadows. Though there were discoloured spots, the green booths came to life. The place, still withered, appeared much more inviting.

Customers burst through the door with a boisterous laugh. At their sight, even the waitress came to life. The hollows of her cheeks puffed out as she smiled a brilliant smile and greeted the newcomers with a hug. Regulars? In the next half an hour more customers trickled in filling the air with lively conversations. Groups greeted each other, individuals broke off from one group only to join another, most of them knew each other. It was as if Sasuke were peeping through the curtains spying on a family enjoying their dinner.

Sensing the same, each member of their group stuffed the remnants off their plate and hailed for the waitress who was engaged in animated conversation with a customer. With a turn of her headache spied their group, Boruto's hand raised and voice hollering as if she weren't only a few feet away. Instantly her face caved in on itself, lips pressed into a thin line, and chin scrunched up. As if the mere sight of them in her precious restaurant, surrounded by people she clearly cared about, was a disease.

She stalked over to the table to grab a slip of paper, made her way over to them, and tossed the slip towards Sasuke, despite being the furthest away. Somehow this women managed to pick the only person at the table who didn't have any money.

Sasuke stared blankly at the paper in front of him, making no move to do anything. The waitress impatiently waited, her foot once again tap tap tapping. A barely there noise through the chatter. Yet as her foot hit the ground, the taps only grew more incessant, needing attention. But what could Sasuke do apart from sit there with his arms crossed? Nothing. Because the shirt on his back was borrowed; The pants on his legs? Borrowed; The life he was now "blessed" to live? Borrowed. Instead he grit his teeth and a scowl masked his face. Pathetic.

Akio reached over to draw the bill away. "I've got this." By itself, it was a casual statement. To Sasuke however, it was a slap in the face. Wanting nothing more to do with the transaction, he let his eyes drift to the cherry tomatoes on his plate.

Sarada had placed them so unconsciously and so habitually. As if she were used to the action, doing it for so long that it became second nature. But why had she chosen him of all people to enact this habit. It was as if she somehow knew his one vice were these bright, tangy fruits.

He took one tomato and popped it into his mouth. The burst of flavour was familiar and welcome, reminding him of his once-upon-a-family. He ate another. Though he was not looking directly at her, Sasuke could feel her eyes on his: careful and unsure. The third tomato soon disappeared. He raised his head to meet her stare. The fourth and final one was gone.

Sarada looked away and busied herself. She stacked everyone's vessel in careful order, largest on the bottom, smallest on the top. The waitress looked pleased at Sarada, nearly grateful for having made her job a little easier. The kindness Sarada displayed reflected positively in the waitress. Her scowl softened to a small smile. That was all it took to change one's opinions of another. How he wished his brother would have shown him this kindness. Instead of pushing him to become stronger than anyone else; instead of asking him to kill the one person he loved more than anything. He wondered if this were another life, if his brother showed remorse, would Sasuke have forgiven Itachi? Of course not.