His eyes scan the room, ignoring the insistence of Hinata’s breasts against his arm as she pours him another drink.
Who the hell brings liquor to a baby shower? was his first thought walking in, but as the sake burns down his throat and settles warm in his stomach he finds it a welcome turn of events.
Leaning back on the couch, Hinata moves impossibly closer to him and he suppresses a shudder. He can count the number of times he has spoken to the girl on his one remaining hand, and when he looks at her all he can see is Neji in his arms and dying for her with a seal over his eyes. For all he had screamed against fate, Neji never escaped his.
“She looks so happy, Naruto-kun,” Hinata says, her voice barely audible over the noise. The others, his comrades, flutter and titter about the apartment, drinks swaying in excitable hands. Everything is so clean and pastel and flowery—it must be Ino’s place—it’s hard to filter Sakura from it all. But there she is, a delicate hand resting lightly on a slightly curved stomach, green eyes bright and smiling indulgently at Ino. Ino helps her up by her elbow, shooing away an attentive Lee anxiously wringing his hands. They turn towards the kitchen, and on the back of Sakura’s dress he sees…
“She does,” he agrees, taking the bottle and pouring for himself.
Hinata leans closer. “Are you busy tomorrow? I was wondering if—”
“You what?” Ino squeals. “Let’s see the ring!”
He stands up too quickly and the room lurches away from him. He mumbles some excuse about needing to get up early and fends off Hinata’s attempt to make him stay. The door is hard to find, the small apartment a maze he struggles to navigate. But then the door opens, letting in a gust of cold air, and the shadow that steps through is the last person he wants to see.
“Naruto?”
He looks up, tries for a smile, but the alcohol has worked its way through and what little control he had over himself tonight is gone.
“Sasuke-kun! You made it!”
The crowd parts for him, he who stands frozen in the doorway, then Ino is there dragging Sasuke deeper.
He makes his escape, falling down stairs and into the street where he manages to catch himself on a convenient trash can. Someone might be calling him back, but he shakes his head and keeps walking. Streets lined with blurry faces and praise for the hero. He smiles, slips into an alleyway, tries to shunshin to his apartment and crashes into a wall. Someone leans out a window to yell at him, but they see it’s him, the golden boy, and laugh instead. He smiles.
He reaches his apartment somehow and the lock proves far too complex a puzzle to solve. He slides down to the ground, wishing he had a coat, wishing he still had Kurama.
He had watched Sasuke walking away again, with that claw-scratched hitai-ate he had cherished like a desperate… He had watched Sasuke walking away and thought, 80 years is a long time to be trapped in a village, and told Kurama to go, that he deserved to be free. He was strong enough to be here on his own.
He leans his head back, against the door, watching the stars spin above the rooftops and trying not to think. It’s been three years since the war ended, he’ll be turning 20 in a month. He’ll be Hokage in a month. It’s his dream come true.
The thought helps him shake off the drunkenness, and when he tries his key this time it actually fits and soon he’s safely inside his dark and empty apartment. The light switch is easy to find, and he kicks off his shoes and makes it to the kitchen. It’s clean, because that’s what he does on the nights he can’t sleep, but the kitchen table is wobbly, the chair is wobbly, and the half-empty bottle he’d started on the night before leers at him from the counter. He reaches for it with a vague plan to drink himself to sleep or maybe death if he’s lucky, but there’s a knock at the door.
“Use the fuckin’ window.” The words are slurred but the meaning is clear. The knocking stops and he puts his head on the table. He’s not surprised when it’s Sasuke who sits across from him.
“You left.” It’s not a question, it’s an accusation.
He sits backs up, head pounding with the effort of keeping himself together. “Congratulations.”
He lets himself look at his…his friend’s impassive face. “Did you marry her before or after you fucked her?”
The only reaction is a twitch of an eyebrow. It speaks volumes, but Naruto isn’t in the mood for reading tonight. He reaches back for the bottle, nearly falling out of his chair to get it, twisting the cap off and flicking it into the shadows. He raises it to his lips, barely tastes the burning sweetness before it’s firmly taken away.
“What the hell?”
“You’re already drunk. You don’t need more.”
Naruto glares at him. “Why are you even here? Go back to your pregnant wife, Sasuke-kun.” He puts as much venom as he can into the name, high pitched and singsong. He might start calling him that all the time, just to watch him flinch.
“It’s the middle of the night,” Sasuke says in that infuriating, indifferent tone. “The party ended hours ago.”
Time is a thing he has stopped paying attention to. He’s stopped counting the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, fucking years. He makes a grab for the bottle but Sasuke puts up a decent, sober fight which ends with Naruto sprawled on the floor with ringing ears and a sour stomach. He bats Sasuke’s helpful arm away and drags himself to the toilet to cool his head against the porcelain.
“When was the last time you ate?” Sasuke asks, pushing a glass of water into his face. It’s either drown or drink it, so Naruto drinks even as his stomach protests. He doesn’t answer the question.
“Why are you here?” He asks again, throat tight and tears threatening to fall. “You’re just going to leave again, like everyone else.” He pushes weakly at Sasuke’s legs. “Just…go. Get it over with.”
When he throws up Sasuke holds his hair back. Naruto can’t forget the feeling of his hand.
Sakura corners him during a lunch break and bullies him into some cafe where more people smile at him. Rather, they smile at the sacrifices he has made for them, bred into this role he plays. Three years of this hasn’t made up for the first seventeen, but he smiles back and imagines this is what he has always wanted.
He lets Sakura order for him, and she gets something bitter that matches his mood but not his taste. She jokingly raises a fist at the expression he makes, and it takes everything not to recoil.
“How are things with you and Hinata?” She asks. Her voice, her entire presence, is thick and cloying. The ring on her finger flashes mockingly at him. The fan on her back is a capital offense.
“Who?” He asks, just to be an asshole.
“Your fiance,” she clarifies, which does absolutely nothing to that end.
“What are you talking about?”
He looks at her, trying to penetrate the glow of her pregnancy. Her hair is longer, twisted up and held in place with elegant clips. Her shirt flares out in Uchiha red over stark white pants. She isn’t quite showing yet and he dreads the day she will.
“I heard that—”
“Who did you hear it from?” He asks. “From Hinata? Me?” He finishes his tea, grimacing at the taste, and tosses some coins on the table, not bothering to count. “I don’t have anything to do with her. I gotta get back to work.”
“Wait a minute! Naruto!”
The closing door cuts off her painfully shrill voice. He rubs at his temple, trying to subdue his growing headache, but he’s hungry and hungover and the bitter dregs are upsetting his stomach. He’s lost an arm, he’s ended a war, he’s been through worse. This is not enough to take him down. He grits his teeth and runs back to the Hokage tower where he can bury himself in work and pretend, for a little while, nothing else exists.
Sasuke is the knife in his heart, and every time he sees him is another twist.
He’s sitting in the semi-dark of his room trying to convince himself to sleep. His inauguration is in the morning, he can’t afford to be less than perfect.
A portal opens up right next to him and a familiar arm reaches through to drag him in. He’s unceremoniously dumped in front of a cave on a mountain somewhere, high enough that the air is hard to breathe and the snow is a dangerous crust. The heat rolling out of the cave melts it almost as fast as it freezes.
“It took me all month to find him,” Sasuke says, still gripping his arm. “How come you never told me he left? I had to hear about it from Kakashi.”
“You never asked,” he mumbles. “Not like it’s any of your business.”
And the council, the fucking council, still bitches about it. Trust a Hyuuga to see the change in his chakra and not keep her mouth shut. Hinata apologizing for her little sister didn’t take the sting of betrayal away.
Naruto breaks free and approaches the cave. Kurama’s snout peeks out, huffing hot air that makes him feel warmer than he has for years. “Hey, shitty fox. Happy anniversary.”
“Happy birthday, Naruto,” Kurama growls, sticking his head fully out. Naruto nearly breaks his neck looking at him, until Kurama snatches him up with claws bigger than he is and pulls him into a hug. The empty seal on his stomach flares to life and suddenly the separation between him and Kurama is far less defined. He blinks his tears away before Sasuke can see.
It was nice, but I missed you, Kurama whispers to his heart.
Me too, he admits. People like to pretend his entire life hadn’t happened, that getting to be Hokage as consolation is enough to erase his childhood. Kurama would never.
“Is that it?” he asks, turning around.
“I thought you’d be more appreciative,” Sasuke says, stepping closer.
“Kurama didn’t run away,” Naruto says, not adding the like you. “I knew where he was the whole time. Shouldn’t you be with your wife? Your pregnant wife? I can’t believe you left her alone for a month.”
“Don’t worry about Sakura,” Sasuke says dismissively.
“Oh yeah? Look how that turned out.”
Sasuke ignores him. “It’s an important day,” he says, looking off to the side. “I wanted to do something for you.”
Naruto frowns at him. “Do you think today is a happy day for me, Sasuke? The day I was born? The day my parents died? The day everyone who knew them decided to treat me like shit and chain me to that cesspool of a village? The day Kurama was made into a fucking slave? The day the world almost ended and I had to see my father’s soul turn into fucking dust?” He raises the stump of his right arm; he doesn’t need to mention it. “You think this is an important day?”
Sasuke steadily meets his eyes, and it makes him angrier. “You’re becoming Hokage. That’s what you always wanted.”
“You think so? You think everything’s still the same as it was three years ago? You think I haven’t changed since I was twelve?”
Sasuke is far too close, but Naruto doesn’t back away, just meets him glare for glare.
“You stopped sending letters,” Sasuke says.
“Ooh, Sasuke-kun noticed me? Lucky!”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever,” he scoffs, absently rubbing his shoulder. “You know, a few months after you left I tried talking to Hyuuga Hiashi about removing the seals they put on the branch family. Guess what? Their clan elders said they’d consider it if I married one of his daughters. They didn’t even care which one.”
He leans closer. “Are you familiar with the contracts between the clans and the village? They’re over a century old, the language is archaic and a pain in the ass to parse. The agreement between Fire and Konoha is largely predicated on the extent of our military capability. We had to raise taxes to help recover after the war. Three years ago I would have said fuck it and removed the damn seals anyway, but now I’ve been fucking trained to think we can’t afford it.”
He balls his fist, nails biting into his hand. “And you. For all that shit you said three years ago, you just ran off again and fucked our teammate. I bet the council loves that. Wouldn’t want to lose such a precious bloodline.”
“It’s not like that,” Sasuke says, slowly raising his hand. Naruto slaps it away and wipes his own tears off. “She kept following me. We were…it only happened a few times.”
He laughs mirthlessly. “So you just wanted a warm hole to stick your—”
He's silenced with a kiss, a soft press of lips that leaves the taste of salt rich on his tongue. He pushes away. Too weak. Always too weak.
"Don't. I can't…"
Sasuke twists fingers in his hair, pulling him back in.
"They lowered the graduation age," he whispers into Sasuke's shoulder. "There are ten year olds doing C ranks. Direct order from the daimyou. I don't even know if Kakashi cares. He was made genin at six. It's normal to him."
"You got taller," Sasuke replies, kissing his cheek. "Still not as tall as me."
"Asshole, I'm trying to be serious."
"I know, it's annoying."
"I can't believe you married her."
"I had to," Sasuke says, lips tracing apologies across his neck. "A clan can't have one member. I need a legitimate heir. Why do you think everyone else is doing it?"
"You said the Uchiha would end with you."
"I meant it. I made a mistake."
"Is that what you're going to tell your kid?"
Six tomoe dance on the rings of Sasuke's eye and they fall out of a portal and into Naruto's messy bed. His shirt is torn off in the process, and his protest at this destruction is cut off by an insistent hand on his throat and a tongue violating his mouth.
"I have to walk places," he says while catching his breath. "I have to give a speech." He gasps when his boxers are pulled down, when he feels Sasuke pressing hot against him.
"Kurama can heal you," Sasuke says while pushing fingers into his mouth.
He can't talk, but he aggressively thinks pervert. From the private smile Sasuke gives him, he knows the message gets through.
He swivels in the Hokage’s chair, cloak and hat discarded somewhere on the floor. Because he’s allowed to now, he opens all the drawers. A card drifts out of one, marked by the curved lance of the Senju clan, revealing the secret stash of rattling bottles underneath. He reads what Tsunade has written, feeling an abrupt emptiness when he realizes she is long gone. She saw her chance and she took it.
The air in the room shifts, and the closing window cuts off the sound of the ongoing celebrations. The sun is setting, but they’re just getting started.
A stack of papers lands on his desk. He looks up into Sasuke’s dark, inscrutable eyes.
“What? Not going to congratulate me?”
“Isn’t that what I did this morning?”
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, choosing not to answer and to instead look at the papers. “You want the Uchiha seat on the council? This has nothing to do with me, the village charter clearly states—”
“I know what it says. I wanted to explain my decisions.”
He leans back, props his feet on the desk, flashes a grin. “And were these decisions made before or after you decided to sleep with her?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“So why the hell are you in my office?”
His grin is stretched over his teeth. He sees Sasuke’s shaking fists, white knuckled, notes absently how well the prosthetic responds. He wonders if that’s another thing Sakura pressured him into, another broken promise between them.
“What do you want me to say, Naruto? That I was drunk? That I missed you? That I regret it? That I’m making the best out of a shitty situation?” Sasuke moves around the desk, grabs his collar and lifts him out of his chair. “That I should have stayed? That I wanted you to beg me to stay? That you should have chased after me?”
“Are you staying?” He boldly asks.
The grip loosens, but Sasuke doesn’t let go. “Through the pregnancy, maybe longer.”
“For your seat?”
“No—”
“You know we can’t work together? At least, not closely or obviously. The Hokage’s office and the council are separate for a reason. It’s a conflict of interest.” He lifts his hand, squeezes Sasuke’s wrist. “Don’t make these little visits of yours a habit.”
Sasuke lets him go, and he retrieves his cloak and hat from the floor. “I hate this stupid thing. It’s too heavy.”
“How symbolic,” Sasuke says drily, collecting his papers. He sketches a teasing bow. “Congratulations, Rokudaime-sama.”
“Fuck off,” he grumbles, readjusting the hat. “I’m meeting Kakashi for dinner. Are you coming?”
They evade the crowds and the cheers, trailed by teams of ANBU who cordon off three blocks so the new Hokage can eat his ramen in peace. It’s not just Kakashi there, though he’s the only one Naruto isn’t completely unhappy to see. Kakashi’s book is conspicuously missing, his mask hiding a smile. Sakura, of course, has her eyes trained on Sasuke, lips parted and ready to squeal. With dismay he sees Hinata there, blushing under the dark curtain of her hair, her vacant eyes flicking towards him. There’s an open seat between her and Sakura, another between Sakura and Kakashi.
The miso and sake start flowing. He tries to focus on the food, far too attuned to the noncommittal noises Sasuke makes from where he’s trapped. Hinata’s stuttering lances into his thoughts, and as he tries to formulate a response Sakura crashes into his space, smiling in a slick and oily way that makes him want to wipe his mouth.
“What’s next, Hokage-sama?” She croons, tilting her head in that way she thinks is cute. She takes up too much space, eclipsing the subtle movements of the person behind her.
“Well,” he says, picking up the shallow dish of sake pushed into his line of sight. “We need to repeal the genin age minimum that the council pushed through when baa-chan was in recovery. And amend the decision making powers of regents,” he adds in a mumble, tipping sake into his mouth. “I also want to start renegotiating the—”
Sakura waves her hand in his face. “I’m not talking about that! What’s your next goal?”
He looks up from his drink. “All of my goals are Hokage-related. I don’t think you fully understand what my position entails.”
“Don’t you want to fall in love?” She asks, a blush gracing her cheeks. “Get married? Have kids?”
In a world like this? He thinks, displeased with her invasive scrutiny. When there’s more orphans than people willing to take care of them?
“Love?” He asks dumbly, smiling as Ayame sets another bowl in front of him. He prods idly at the noodles, watching the lights of the stall reflect off the surface. He can see the shape of his own reflection disturbed as Sakura nudges him.
“Yeah, like how you love ramen?”
It takes him a moment to understand she’s comparing it to romantic love, or maybe she’s setting it up to make some kind of distinction. Either way, he’s too gone to stop himself from saying, “I don’t want to fuck ramen, Sakura-chan.”
The snap of his chopsticks breaking apart resounds in the stunned silence. Kakashi’s hand falls on his shoulder, and his fresh bowl of ramen is being taken away and packed up by a faintly smiling Ayame.
“It’s been a long day for my cute little student,” Kakashi says, mask obscuring his wry smile. “Hinata, why don’t you take our new Hokage home, make sure he gets there safe?”
“I have ANBU,” he says mulishly, but Kakashi’s hand is firmly pushing him out of his stool and towards the girl holding his take out. He sees Sasuke standing up, taking a step towards her, but Sakura has sunk her claws into him and hurries him away. Kakashi vanishes at some point, so it’s him and Hinata silently walking down the street while ANBU prowl the rooftops and herd the villagers away. His apartment comes into view too slowly, and he wonders how the hell she knows where lives. He could live in the Hokage residence now, but he won’t.
Once inside he realizes this was a set up and Hinata is making no moves to leave. He wishes he hadn’t changed the sheets or left the window open to air his room out.
“Naruto-kun,” she says, leading him to his bed. “What I told you back then…”
How could he forget? Konoha turned into a crater, everyone dead, pinned to the ground like a piece of meat ready for the taking, someone he hardly knew claiming she loved him. It was a shock, at the time. No one had ever said those words to him. And then she died, and he almost broke his own seal, and he learned his father had chosen the village and death over him, and whatever feelings Hinata thought she had didn’t even register. He only remembered after being reminded years after the fact. And now.
“I meant it,” she says earnestly, and he believes she really thinks that. She doesn’t even know him.
“I know what my clan’s elders want. I can step aside for my sister, together we can…”
His fingers tangle in his sheets, but instead of looking at the floor or out the window or anywhere else, he meets her eyes. How long until he stops viewing these people as people and starts moving them like pieces on a shogi board? Is this where it starts?
“It’s what Neji-nii-san would have wanted,” she finishes in a rush, eyes squeezed shut.
“What exactly do you want, Hinata?” he asks in a tired voice.
“You,” she says, opening her eyes. “If you’ll have me.”
Later, when the ANBU have taken the hint and made themselves scarce, when her voice is muffled by damp pillows and his hand traces the pale curve of her back, eyes closed and mouth watering with the urge to vomit, when he stands under the harsh spray of his shower and tries to scrape her smell from his body, when he retrieves rumpled clothes from the floor and runs away to his office, he realizes he has lost count of the pieces left of himself.