Baby Revolutionaries Liberating Groceries
"Obviously I can use shadow clones. I've seen you use them a million times."
And it's a horrible distraction every time, even if he always knows which one is the real Naruto. His mass shadow clones are an eyesore. Blinding.
They're in the Hokage's office because they're from Konoha and it's where it all started. Naruto is hunched over papers, mouthing words silently as he reads. Not for the first time, Sasuke notices how his friend, or is it boyfriend now, struggles with it. Back in the Academy they called him stupid. But he was always an orphan, and kanji is hard.
"Do you need help?" He asks, addressing the dozen or so Narutos engaged in the task. "You can ask me if…"
Naruto scowls and waves him off. "I can read, dude—"
"I know that."
"—it's just that sometimes…"
"Sometimes what?"
He moves closer to the real one, thinking he should comfort him somehow. This whole thing is strange and new, exciting and frightening. He knows Naruto does best with physical communication, and it's not like Sasuke hates being touched. At least, he doesn't hate when Naruto does it. But the things they did yesterday, the fight that could have ended with both of them dead, the words that Naruto said that were so honest, so real, so much darker than those bright smiles he shares with anyone who pays him the smallest bit of attention. After everything, how can Naruto be acting so…normal? Or is he still pretending?
"The words get all mixed up, I don't know. It's confusing!"
Sasuke sits down next to him, as close as he dares, still unsure what the boundaries are, if there are any at all. A memory hits him, an old one from before the massacre. A distant cousin who also had a hard time reading. Something about her brain that jumbled things around.
"Do you have dyslexia?" He asks after he finds the word.
"What? Is that some kind of disease? Kurama doesn't let me get sick."
Sasuke frowns at this. Someone should have noticed. Someone should have helped him. Yet another reason to loathe this place, as if the sealed documents and hidden compartments, Uchiha blood on their hands, haven't provided enough.
"No, it isn't a disease. It's a condition that makes it harder to read."
"Oh," Naruto says. His expression turns blank, which is the worst possible way for Naruto to look. It reminds him of the first time at the valley, when he left Naruto cold and unconscious in the rain, when he was so close to telling him the truth, before he bit his tongue and buried that feeling along with the rest of his heart.
Sasuke moves closer, nudges his shoulder, feeling like a dam broken open, waters raging out. It was so much easier when he had one simple goal, a goal he never intended to live beyond. But it was all a lie, a false promise, and his world had gone to shit. The only constant is Naruto.
"We can ask someone about it later," he says. "Is there anything that makes it worse?"
Naruto looks down and nods. "When I'm tired. Or upset. I think the…subject matter is difficult." He hands the folder he's been thumbing through to Sasuke. It opens to a picture of a little girl with dark blue hair and darker eyes.
"It's an assassination order, for a minor noble in Tea," Naruto says. "She was three years old."
"You'd think we'd run out of people to kill eventually," Sasuke says, sorting through the mission details. The information itself isn't important, but if it gets in the right person's hands it would be beautifully disastrous.
"That's not funny," Naruto says, picking up a scroll.
"I know."
The boxes are piling up, years and years of mission reports, profiles, forgotten notes and memos. It's all too much for two people to sort through, even with the clones, and Sasuke is tempted to burn it all down, scour the world, leave nothing behind and let it rise from the ashes.
The flames lick at his throat.
"This room isn't big enough for all this," Naruto says. "We need, like, a headquarters or something. And maybe we should organize it first."
"Hn."
"And if this is what being Hokage is like, seriously, fuck it. Too much paperwork."
Both know it isn't the paperwork that's the problem.
Sasuke closes the folder and passes it to a Naruto clone. He's been to Orochimarus's hideouts, and some of the Akatsuki hideouts, the majority of which are caves. There aren't many places Sasuke can call his own, except—
Naruto jerks upright and massages his temples.
"The clones finished cleaning out ANBU and T&I. They haven't gone through anything, they're just grabbing what they can. A few traps went off. There are some blood seals, so maybe—"
"What about the Uchiha compound?"
Naruto frowns. "I thought we were doing the clans tomorrow. And don't forget about Root, I'm sure Danzo has all sorts of shit—"
"No, I mean we could collect everything at my clan's compound. Organize it into different houses. The stasis wards are probably still up, and I can reactivate the clan barriers."
"Barriers?"
Sasuke shrugs. "We were…are militaristic. Uchihas were bred for war."
"Mm, that explains a lot."
Naruto leans into him, pressing their shoulders together. "I know that place holds a lot of bad memories for you."
"May as well fill it with worse."
The late morning light streams through the window, carried on the chill air of autumn. It ruffles Naruto's hair, which dances like the petals of a dandelion. It's a pretty color, when not caked with dirt and blood.
There are things Sasuke is not allowed to feel, things he has ignored for so long it's a miracle he can recognize them at all. Things he has to say before he becomes too distracted by the idiotic pout on Naruto's face.
If he can find the words.
"Yeah, this is pretty bad stuff, even just what's on the desk. I was never assigned any missions like this. Planting drugs, seduction, assassinating babies?" The scroll Naruto holds starts to char at the edges. "What does it even mean to be a shinobi?"
"We endure." It's a pathetic answer, pulled straight from the Academy curriculum. Sasuke hasn't cared about being a shinobi since he was seven years old. He stands up, grabbing Naruto's wrist and pulling him up too.
"The hell?" The other boy squawks, papers falling from his lap to spill across the floor.
"It's almost lunch. You're hungry, right?"
"Well, yeah," Naruto says, freeing his wrist to lace their fingers together. "You could use your words for once!"
As they weave through the streets of Konoha, ducking under her cocooned citizens, Sasuke finds a more honest answer.
"For the Uchiha, we were ninja in order to survive. It was for the clan, then for the village. It was what we were good at."
He turns to Naruto, looks into those startling blue eyes.
"And what about you?"
For the clan, for the village, for his brother. The thrill of a shuriken hitting a target, flames blossoming from his lips. They live in a world of unending violence, and for all his cold exterior it makes his blood run hot.
"I like to fight."
Naruto pulls him to a stop, grabs his other hand. Conviction fills his eyes, and Sasuke is inexorably drawn in by the unyielding force of it.
"We don't have to do that anymore."
The Hokage tower looms over them. Sasuke indulges in a vision of it collapsing under black flames.
"We can make it so kids don't grow up like we did."
Sasuke swallows drily, turns, and tugs Naruto down the street. He ignores the rush of heat to his face, how his eyes itch, the softness of Naruto's hand. A hand that can punch through mountains now in his, as delicate as a bird's wing.
"We can work on that later. For now, let's break into a grocery store and find something that's not ramen."
"But you promised!"