Up and Down
Sasuke found Boruto’s door and stepped up to it. Unlike how new the boy always seemed to look--the impeccable jacket, the healthy, vibrant glow in his cheeks, a body that had filled out well--the door to his room looked ancient, like it had been in the Third Great Ninja War itself. The surface had chips and cracks and scratches on the surface.
This door looked out of place.
It felt like it did not belong to the owner. He wondered why.
And then it dawned on him.
Scars, he thought, everything clicking into place. They looked like scars.
Maybe they did belong after all.
He knocked.
“FUCK OFF, OYAJI!”
Sasuke’s eyebrows did not move an inch. Not a single inch.
He said nothing.
“If that’s you, Okaa-chan, I’m not coming out!”
Sasuke still said nothing.
“Otou-chan?”
“You wish I was your father.” Sasuke finally said.
The floorboards creaked and bounced with steps coming from the other side and the door opened with a particularly powerful wrench.
“Sasuke-san?” His voice was timid now.
Sasuke took a minute to look at his best friend’s son. His eyes were hesitant, almost fearful. They were also possibly bluer than Naruto’s.
Sky-dipped.
Water-drenched.
Ocean-full.
Stubborn, immature, selfish, and that of a boy's completely.
“Come downstairs.”
Boruto scowled, hiding behind the half-open door. “If he told you to come get me, I’m not going.”
“Your father said nothing of the sort.” Sasuke muttered. “As a matter of fact, he said nothing at all. He actually physically couldn’t.”
“What do you mean?” Boruto asked, appearing curious and suspicious at the same time. "You're not making sense. Also, it's almost two in the morning and my brain isn't working." His look darkened. "He can eat by himself, he's so bent on keeping only himself company."
Something akin to a thread snapping did so with so much force that Sasuke, cool as he always was, smiled.
Baring his teeth.
A malevolent energy surged through his veins.
His muscles tensed.
Boruto. Better. Bolt.
It had been quite some time since he had felt rage stroke his consciousness in this way again.
But then saw something in the boy's face:
the jealousy,
the petulance,
the worry and the thirst to be seen.
The desire to be strong. To not give in. To want to be dealt with seriously. The need to not feel small. Or inferior. Or powerless.
Images of Itachi crossed his mind.
The soft gaze of an onii-san. The gentle reprimands. The firm commands. Trips made while sitting on his back. Shuriken practice. Not making any of the targets, and watching the fluid flick of his onii-san's wrist and the satisfying shfunk as steel bit into wood.
The flick on the forehead. The silences that he had always been afraid to break. The burden he had been carrying around, quietly, without protest, and the agony it must have been.
Of perseverance and patience and home.
Of his lack of perspective, emotional tides, and extreme restlessness.
It had barely been three seconds.
His eyebrows still stayed in place.
It was no longer in his nature to give in to terrible, terrifying thoughts. Or to act on them. And not care what happened afterwards. Not since he was nineteen. Not since he had decided that he wanted to put his life back together, even when he did not know how, or if he deserved to even still have one. He had used his time wisely. Sakura and the others had helped him through it. All that effort, all that time in The Forest, he would never take it for granted or render it of no value.
So Sasuke turned away.
“Come downstairs. I don’t have time for words.”
The young Uzumaki stood his ground. “Why? What happened anyway?”
Sasuke breathed out and looked him squarely in the eye. “Does it matter? I thought you wanted to hole up in your room.”
“Please, I--he promised he’d be home.” Boruto looked hesitant, but then decided to soldier on. “Himawari was so excited to have him all to herself tonight. Mama had this elaborate feast planned out. Everything had been reading since six. I had to watch her face drop. You don't know what it's like, having a sibling.”
Sasuke drew one step closer to him, away from the stairs. "Of course, I don't. He died."
Fear distorted the boy's face and he cowered behind the door, raising his hands. "I, I, I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"
"I won't repeat myself."
Not waiting for a reply, he strode away.
Boruto seemed to be glued to the spot.
"Sasuke-san...Is he..."
Sasuke stopped at the head of the stairs and allowed his eyes to descend the steps.
“Your father passed out. Twice. Earlier at the office, and just a few minutes after he arrived. My wife is taking care of him downstairs.”
Weight shifted and something made a choking noise. From out of the corner of his eyes, Sasuke watched as Boruto’s shoulders sagged.
The next minute later, a blur of yellow flashed past him and down the stairs in a thunder of footsteps.
Why did that remind him of someone?
Sasuke dismissed the thought just as easily from his mind.
“Stupid old man.”
Sasuke peered down.
On the third to last step, still cleverly obscured by part of the wall, the young blond sat in a heap.
Sasuke pretended not to hear the sniffle that followed after that and the solid punch that shook the wooden railing.
He descended the stairs.
It felt like coming up for air after a lifetime underwater.
He did not know where he had been, if It had been right, but his mind had been at peace in whatever deep he had descended to.
Just as he was getting comfortable with the feeling, however, something that oddly felt like a hand forcibly latched onto him and dragged him through feet of water, all of what he was hurtling at breakneck speed toward the surface.
He had no other alternative but to follow.
He did not have the choice or the strength to resist.
The moment he broke through the last few centimeters of water, his consciousness finally making contact with the waking world, he instinctively breathed in. It was an effort, struggling to meet the entirety of a full, deep breath. The abrupt entry of oxygen into his lungs taxed the muscles in his chest, and each band responded by treating him to pain as each one was forced to expand to make room for the new, alien occupant.
As his mind began to piece itself back together, a feeling of complete sensation and weight returned to his extremities. It felt like he was being reacquainted with his appendages once more--like he had initially left his body at some stage and was now returning to it--now fully aware again of his arms and legs and shoulders and back. This state of unknown brought him closer to a state of real, genuine awareness.
No sooner had the first breath left him though when an immediate, intense and crushing rush of fatigue flooded his senses.
A groan escaped his lips.
Oh, God.
He wanted it to stop.
Stop. Stop.
Stop.
Stop it, please.
It felt awful.
Spirit-shattering.
“Anata?”
“Naruto? Can you hear me? Are you coming out of it?”
His hearing had not returned completely.
Everything sounded so distorted, warped beyond belief.
If he wanted to, he could very well go back to sleep, sink back into the soothing darkness.
He wanted to go back
But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t.
Something that felt very much like words were connecting and getting lost between his ears and his brain.
A calming scent caught his nose and he instinctively breathed in deeply.
Lavender.
Lily of the valley.
Sweet, but soothing.
Gentle, and grounding.
Hinata.
His eyes snapped open. “Where…?” he croaked, his eyes unbearably dry.
Something or someone shrieked, but he couldn't be certain.
The light from somewhere to his right threatened to blind him.
He swore. “Oh God, fuck, my eyes.”
He retreated behind his eyelids and then hid behind one of his arms for good measure.
He felt weak, flu-like, like Pain and him had gone a few rounds. His heart pulsed with slow, exaggerated beats despite how tense he felt.
Anxiety was building in his very core.
He began to shake.
He felt nauseous.
A soft hand tightened its grip over his fingers.
He broke free and curled his fingers tight around a slender wrist. He vaguely registered that the touch of skin was one he was familiar with before his mind wandered for a few minutes, caught between the valley of discomfort and the choice to let go.
Let me drift off again…
Behind his eyelids, a glow of some sort burned. He sensed it: a hand, palm-down, on his chest, the other one traveling down his sternum, fingers firmly tracing a pattern unto his skin.
He felt warmth seep into him as the light, which seemed to be green, intensified. It helped somewhat, and he felt less likely to break into another cold sweat, despite the roar of panic that was steadily rising to a piercing ring in his ears. He summoned all of his willpower and put his remaining strength into focusing on the source of healing, wishing it would keep him grounded to the present, aware that his consciousness was beginning to fade in and out again.
The ocean was calling him back...
He began to breathe through his mouth, willing himself to take deep, even, and steady breaths.
“Naruto, I know you’re feeling horrible, but if you can hear me, open your eyes.”
He knew that voice. It was Sakura.
What was Sakura doing--wherever the hell he was.
Was he still at his office? Where was Shikamaru? Why was it all so strange?
No.
This wasn’t his office. The smells were different. He had come home--he couldn’t remember when exactly--but Sasuke and Sakura had brought him home.
He was home.
He had to get up.
He opened his eyes.
Why did he feel like he was doing a lot of that today?
It took a while for his eyes to adjust, but the image of two women swam into view.
“Hinata?” His wife sat behind-- “Sakura-chan?,” he rasped. “Did I--?”
Sakura nodded, grief lines etched into her face. “A little over thirty minutes ago. If you had clocked in at an hour, I was going to take you in and have you admitted. This isn’t normal. Not just fatigue.” Her green eyes bored into him with concern. “Has this happened before?”
Naruto blinked. “No. Never.”
The blond watched as his former teammate’s brow deepened, her look grave. She traced one of her fingers downward and settled on a branch to the left of his chest, covering it with her right palm. “Is there any pain here?”
Hinata’s covered her husband’s hand with her free hand, her fingers tightening significantly as the question washed over her. Naruto’s eyes traveled to her face and he gave her a weak but nonetheless reassuring smile. “I’m fine. And the answer is no. Again.”
The green light subsided and Sakura straightened up. She looked her friend from head to toe, before settling into a silence, suddenly lost in thought. When she came back to them, she wore an expression of resoluteness.
“I don’t like it when you get that look on your face, Sakura-chan."
Sakura laced her fingers together.
"You might as well talk to me,” Naruto spoke up, feeling uncomfortable but knowing that the discussion was going to be necessary. “I’m going to be fine. I am fine. Please tell me that I’m going to be okay.”
Sakura glanced at Hinata, before turning to look at him. “You’ll have to cancel that meeting tomorrow. I’m afraid you need to undergo some tests.”
Naruto looked stricken. “Ano sa—“
She scowled. “And I’m not giving you a free pass. You’re not dying anytime soon, and certainly not without me giving it my best shot. That means me tying you to a bed if I have to.”
“Kinky. But Sakura-chan—!!” Naruto’s eyes had widened. “Gaara--I have to attend to Suna tomorrow—”
“You hired an adviser for a reason.” She gave him a cool, dangerous look, not unlike the one Sasuke wore when about to do battle. “Don’t push your luck. I can just as easily ask Hinata to put you out, but I’m more diplomatic than that.”
Sakura eyed Hinata, before looking back at him and adding: "Or I can do it too, if you want. I doubt Hinata will have a problem with it. I'm not exactly hard to ask, you know." She fixed her gloves testily, her fingers bursting with aggression.
Hinata shook her head. She dropped to her knees, carded her long, thin finger through his hair, and gave him a worried smile. It faded away not long after.
“Anata…”
For the blond had closed his eyes (again) before proceeding to hit himself in the forehead with his fist.
“I’m failing at being a father. And now, I’m failing at this job too. Damn it.” He bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood.
Sakura frowned. “It isn’t like that—“
Hinata took Naruto's left hand in hers.
“Sakura-chan, is it not possible for him to attend the meeting, even for half an hour?”
It was Sakura’s turn to gape at the hokage’s wife. “Hinata, he’s in no shape to--”
Looking determinedly away from the pink-haired kunoichi, the Hyuuga heir met her husband’s eyes with a pronounced look. “I know. But he’s always been so stubborn. He’ll find a way to still go. And even if he did listen and decided to rest instead, I know that he still wouldn’t be able to sleep through the night because he wouldn’t have been able to do his job.” Hinata brought the back of Naruto’s hand to her lips. “Please.”
Naruto was at a loss for words.
Hinata was trembling; her fingers were now tangled with his own, and he felt her fear vibrate in his hand; her pulse was a little too rapid to be normal.
“I’m sorry, Hinata,” he whispered in a small voice. "I'm such a horrible husband, aren't I?"
Hinata gave him the smallest of nods. "Don't apologize." She understood for what reason it was that she had to be strong. “You’ve given me such a fright, but I’m no stranger to challenge or the need for patience.”
An arm squeezed Sakura’s shoulder from behind.
She gasped, surprised.
Sasuke gave a small nod, and Sakura understood.
Sasuke held on. “I’ll keep an eye out. I’ll make sure he’s brought to you as soon as he’s through.”
He looked back at his best friend. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Naruto replied, closing his eyes.
“I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty.”
“Make it eight.”
“Sakura--” Sasuke gave her an inquiring look.
Sakura shook her head and sighed. “All right, idiot. But don’t push your luck. I swear you’re going to be the death of me.”
The blond chuckled tiredly. “That makes three of you. Shikamaru is always calling things."
"Moron."
"Nope. I'm a careful man. Sasuke would make sure to finish what he started with that Chidori of his through my chest if I messed up with you. Uh, nope, no thanks, I’m good. Too much ramen left in the world for me to eat. I'll stick to the plan.”
Sakura raised a hand and threatened to slap him for the third time today. “You’re suddenly in a good mood.”
“Thank you, Sakura-chan,” he murmured, eyes fluttering close. "Thank you, Sasuke's defenderrrrr."
Right where Sasuke last left him, sat Boruto, his expression murky, complex, and pained.
He had watched the whole exchange.
He balled his hands into fists.
“Stupid old man. Can’t do anything right. His word’s as good as shit. Then he comes home like this and scares the kami out of Okaa-san.”
He stood up and gave the group a wistful glance. But then he faltered, and aimed a punch at the wall, before stopping a few millimeters before it made contact.
“I hate that this is happening to you. You’re supposed to be much more stronger than this. Hokage this, hokage that. They all look up to you, say you’re this amazing hero. That you’re strong. Well, fuck that. Liar.”
He ascended the stairs, looking somewhere between annoyed and afraid, his footsteps noiseless on the wooden steps. The stairs were soon deserted. In the distance, a door slammed shut, almost clean right off its hinges.
Nice ending there. Real cool, kid.
Unbeknownst to him, Sasuke had seen it all; he was too good at concealing himself, even while in plain sight. It was likely that Boruto had just been so worried that he had dropped his guard for a short while, not sensing the older man as he battled with his inner demons.
Even without his Rinnegan or Sharingan, Sasuke saw it. He saw the hostility, fear, and concern intertwined like a many-headed beast of prey in the eyes of his best friend’s son.
He also saw the regret Boruto harbored.
Including the two, quiet tears that had escaped and snaked down the length of his face which he hurriedly wiped away with an angry hand before he trudging towards the second floor.
Sasuke leant against the wall opposite the stairs. After a few solid minutes, he turned towards the stairs and made his way up. He needed to check on the younger Uzumaki child. As his right foot hit the first step--
“Oji-san?”
The Uchiha looked up.
His eyes widened.
Crouched behind the wooden bars of the balustrade was Himawari.
Had she been there the whole time?
This kid has serious stealth skills, thought Sasuke, just a tiny bit surprised. And impressed.
Sasuke tried to rearrange his features so that he wouldn’t look intimidating or constipated or plain, well, they called it his “mean face.” “Do you want to come down and eat?”
He hadn’t felt her presence at all.
He vaguely remembered that Boruto was deathly afraid of his little sister.
A soft smile played on his lips.
“Your mother told me to come find you.”
Large blue eyes looked back at him sadly as a frown emerged on her lips. “No. I wanted to eat with Papa.” Himawari smiled apologetically. “He’s rarely home, you see. Mama wasn’t happy when she heard me say that. And I think onii-chan outright became mad when I told him I’d wait for Papa. All night, if I had to.”
Sasuke was now at the top of the stairs. “Well, why don’t we eat? Boruto--”
“I don’t think Nii-chan wants to,” she whispered, downcast.
“Wasn’t it that you wanted to have dinner with everybody available?”
Himawari nodded. “Uh huh. But I’m not sure--Nii-chan is--”
Sasuke walked past her and stopped in front of a very familiar door. “We’ll have a training session in three days. Offer expires in ten seconds. Dinner. Downstairs. Now.”
Sasuke heard something or someone gasp, a crash, a bang, and then--again, that blond blur rushed past.
In all his years since the matter with Kaguya had been slammed shut, Sasuke had never seen what could possibly be the second coming of The Yellow Flash flit like well, a flash, so fast. He was certain he had never heard stairs creak and shudder so much in his life.
The little girl beamed. “You get him to do what I want. I like you, Uncle Sasuke.”
Sasuke returned the smile, feeling vaguely pleased with himself and with Naruto's bad, bad daughter. “I think I like you as well. Now, come down and let’s eat. I’ll tell you stories about your Papa. I think you’ll enjoy them.”
Naruto was surprised, to say the least.
When he was well enough to get up and walk, he padded into the dining area, Sakura hovering behind him.
He stopped and faced her. He decided to choose his words very carefully. “Perhaps you should go get Sarada.”
Sakura’s eye’s bulged and she blanched. “Oh God. Sasuke—“
Emerging from the other side of the house, Sasuke drew level with Naruto. “Are you well enough to be up?”
“Just about.” Naruto nodded, sighing. “I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow. Like I promised. Hey, Sakura-chan, remember what I just said—“
Sasuke had to ease back a few inches as Sakura launched herself forward. “Sarada,” Her tone wavered, on the verge of tears. “She must be worried sick. Can we--?”
Raising a hand, Sasuke patted his wife’s head. He wordlessly went to a corner of the room, and activated the Rinnegan.
“Sarada? We’re both sorry. We’re joining them for dinner.”
“Who?” came the startled cry.
“Naruto and his family.”
The young Uchiha shrieked. “Dinner with The Seventh?”
Sasuke gave the smallest of nods. “Don’t be loud. Come. Now.”
A few seconds later and a high-heeled, small boot-sandal touched down unto the carpet. The young Uchiha was red in the face (what was it with Uchiha women and liking the color too much?). She straightened up, before surveying the group and spotting Naruto.
She gave a bow. "Thank you for having me, Nanadaime-sama."
"Welcome, Sarada." Naruto beamed. He gave Sasuke a snide look. "How come you're nothing like her? Sure shes' your daughter, teme?"
"Careful, Naruto. That offer I mentioned? It's still on the table, moron." Sakura chirped, a vein pulsing visibly in her temple.
Sarada looked at her parents. Smiled. And raised a camera, taking a shot. “Happy Anniversary, Dad. And you too, Mom.”
So there was Sasuke, caught off guard, a surprised Sakura, a Naruto laughing his head off, and a Hinata shaking her head, but giggling as well.
"Oh, so I guess she is your daughter after all." Naruto said, clutching his side from the wave of laughter that was taking over. "Huh, never would have thought."
But ten minutes later, that wasn’t what struck Naruto as odd.
His son was already at the table.
Before anyone else was.
And he had a sickeningly sweet, somewhat lopsided smile on his face.
Himawari sat down next to her brother, to Naruto’s left. Sakura sat across him, beside Sasuke, who was himself sitting beside Hinata. Sarada had more than enough room at the end of the table.
At this exact time, Hinata entered with a steaming pot of stew and sat at the head of the table, facing all of them.
“Itadakimasu.” They chanted in unison.
The sounds of chopsticks and china clinking gently filled the room.
And thus, Round One began.
“Miracle worker, huh, Sasuke?” Naruto looked at his best friend, who said nothing, and wore no expression in particular.
Himawari smiled. “Boruto listens to Uncle Sasuke, Papa.” She looked at her brother, who inched away from the table. She then looked at her dad. “How come he rarely listens to you, Papa? Aren’t you “cool” like him as well?”
The hokage nearly choked into his bowl of miso soup, causing Hinata to rub his back. He looked up, a furious blush dusting his cheeks, cackling like a mad man. “Nah. No one could beat Sasuke, not even when we were kids.” He put his chopsticks down. “And he’s always had that cool guy attitude. Look, he’s ignoring us!”
“I’m ignoring you, moron,” came the Uchiha’s smooth reply, perfectly replying in between two mouthfuls of rice and shredded fish.
“Papa,” Sarada rebuked. “You’re being rude.”
Sakura looked at her husband, blushed, and tried to hide it behind a well-timed sip of water.
"Yeah, Sasuke, what a bad house guest you are."
“Anata, you’ve barely eaten anything.”
Naruto chortled nervously. Hinata’s eyes were scary.
Byakugan or no, very little escaped her notice. That is to say, nothing did.
Ever.
There was no point trying to throw the wool over those powerful peepers.
Naruto took a sip of water and wiped his mouth before answering. “I’m not really that hungry.”
The blond was certain those lavender eyes had suddenly glowed.
“Please don’t skewer your husband with a Gentle Fist. Sakura called that, but I'd rather you didn't. He’s just risen from the grave. He doesn’t want to go back. Not really.”
Hinata gave him a dirty look, before giggling. “I don’t know what to do with you. Eat what you can. Don’t make me worry. Please.”
Naruto’s fingers crept towards his chopsticks and picked them up again. “I’ll try.”
“Well, that’s a first,” sniggered Sasuke. “Following some sort of diet to impress the ladies, Hokage-sama?”
Naruto stared. “Did you just snigger at me, teme?”
“Are you deaf as well as stupid, usuratonkachi? Eat your damn rice.”
Naruto’s eyes narrowed to slits. "One of these days, I'm gonna wipe that smug look right off your face, asshole." He pouted, grabbed his chopsticks with a huff, and shoved food into his mouth. “There? Happy?”
“About you being disgusting and spraying me with food? No,” came the suave reply.
“Are you snickering at me now? That’s worth ten levels up on the Sasuke Assholery Scale.”
“Shut up and eat, stupid old man.”
Naruto looked down the line. “Was that you, Boruto?”
The young Uzumaki heir rolled his eyes. “To quote Uncle Shikamaru: mendokusai.”
“SASUKE, TEME, HOW’D YOU DO THAT? IS THAT WHAT THEY CALL VENTRILOQUISM OR SOMETHING?”
As Naruto and Sasuke volleyed back and forth, food flying like projectiles from one end of the conversation, Sakura shook her head and gave Hinata an incredulous look: “I’m surprised he hasn’t changed all this time.” She stole a look at her blond team mate. “I forgot he could get so animated.”
The hokage was waving a piece of nori with an alarming rate of speed between two chopsticks. Sasuke was doing his best to not pay attention, but his right hand was oddly tense, as if anticipating a sudden blow. Naruto didn’t have the slightest clue though. Sasuke rebuked him with a single word and the blond almost stabbed himself in the throat, shoving another morsel of food into his mouth.
“Hinata, can I have a word?” Sakura gave a very short, quick nod towards the sink. The Hyuuga looked momentarily surprised, but then immediately nodded right back. “Hima-chan, make sure your onii-chan finishes his daikon.”
Boruto paled as his sister leant over to survey his plate. Himawari smilled. “Wakatta, Mama.”
A chair inched further back. "Ah, I promise. I'll eat all of it. I will. Honest."
"Of course you will, oniiiiii-chaaaan."
Hinata headed towards the kitchen with Sakura following closely behind her.
“Sasuke will come pick him up in a few hours. Shikamaru will be briefed. I’m sure Sasuke will have words so that Konohamaru can be an extra set of eyes, ears, and hands for him tomorrow. As soon as the meeting concludes, they’ll bring him to me at the hospital. I hope that’ll bring your blood pressure down.”
Leaning against the sink, Hinata squeezed Sakura’s arms: “More than you think possible.” She beamed. “Thank you for all this, Sakura. I’m so sorry we got in the way.”
Sakura waved a hand. “It’s no trouble at all. Just so long as he outlives us all, I’m fine with that. But he should definitely reconsider his working hours. It’s doesn’t benefit anyone, least of all him, if he has to come back from something severe. That is, if it is still possible…”
Hinata was subdued. “I know what you mean. And I appreciate your honesty. I don’t know where we’d be without you. Where Naruto would be without you. Both of you.”
“Delicious.”
“What?” Hinata wasn’t sure she heard right.
There was a mischievous twinkle in Sakura’s eyes. “I actually made a cake. Chocolate, with a hint of coffee, and loads of cream. Can you wait a bit?”
“Sure. Uh, do you mean you’re going to ask Sasuke to help you get to your house and back?”
“He can’t say no to his wife on their anniversary. Sit tight, Hinata. You’ll love it. I know I need something rich and decadent to soothe my nerves and shut them boys up.”
“Sasuke must be scared of you,” Hinata started to laugh, opening a few cupboards and taking out saucers, a cake server, and some forks.
“Oh, positively terrified.” Sakura gushed, before hurrying back to the dinner table.
"I don't doubt it." Hinata laughed into her hands, following behind her.