Chapter Text
The mantle of hero proved a weight unbearable, not without flaw. His grin told lies, but his heart knew the truth. Hero is a title, a performance, and the act of hero exploited his humanity, leaving an emptiness that could not be denied, not for long.
Stifling heat, suffocating every inch of a miserably joyful experience. Miserable for its forced nature, for the tiniest faltering threatens unwravelling the carefully crafted reality of sanctimonious harmony boasted by this village. The unbearable warmth beating down on slowly deteriorating optimism personified comes not from the summer sun, for he is one with that celestial being, always compared to its inviting rays of light. No, it is the pressing heat of the masses, once united against him now worshipping at his feet.
Did they forget these feet carried a young boy through unfriendly streets, sprinting from place to place after being denied and villified without cause? Has it been wiped from their collective memory, the hateful words, the vengeful hands desperately reaching to rake consollation from a child who knew nothing of the foundation of their hatred, made intimately aware of its consequences before his earliest remembrance?
Blue eyes, once sparkling with hope and promise, dulled each day, speaking nothing of the naivety once prescribed to them. These eyes had winessed too much, now having finally seen for what they had longed could only hope to block out these unwelcomed visions. Even the sight of his friends, hard fought and earned, only brought waves of exhaustion to the already fatigued body that stood as a bystandard in his own life.
Their worried looks dug the bitterness in deeper, like an infection quickly retreating from any attempts to alleviate its host from the ailment. How long had these people, now displaying love and concern, looked upon him in the same disgusted manner as the rest? And those that did not, for how long had they remained indifferent to his acute and particular suffering? Every precious person had to be won, must have been convinced at some point of his worth, not once was that care freely given as a part of his corporeality.
With the exception of one, however complicated the bond they shared, that truth remained. Only one ever sought him before his acknowledgement into personhood, without first necessitating some measure of convincing for his shared humanity and worthiness of love. But that person left him behind long ago, here all that remained was an oppressive overbearance and the reminder that nothing came without toiling required on his part.
He found himself retreating within the walls of his apartment, hoping to be spared the expontentially strained interactions with everyone aorund him. Eventually, he appeared more husk that human, blank eyes and fallen face monotonously completing that which was required, never more. Many attempted to give rise to his former playful nature, none found themselves successful, not substantially. The fox sealed within him grew more and more disturbed as the will to live slowly drained from that formerly headstrong and unrelenting man.
Years passed without sleep, the night became a torment and a comfort alike. Thoughts haunted him into consciousness, rest elluding him like a lover lost to youth and foolishness. Inevitably, his withering sanity would lead him to that sacred and despised mount, both his bane and his boon on these sleepless nights. Stone faces taunted him, with their accomplishment turned tyranny, for only with their failures disguised in success could events progress to his own pitiable circumstances. His own father stared over the village that would take his sacrifice, both his life and his son, and transform it into a curse, one that Naruto was left to bear alone.
When he was younger, loneliness would claw inside him and promise to devour him until there was nothing left to face its torment. A child's tears that garnered no empathy perpetually fell until he equipped himself with an aegis impenetrable, an ultimate dream that promised his freedom from hatred. No one could stare their malcontent down onto him if he had risen above them all as hero and leader. A child's dream that proved his only defense against the coldness of abandonment. A child's dream through and through.
Yet this place held beauty still, it stood as his refuge removed from the setting of his quiet torture. Here he could gaze uninterrupted at the heavenly body above him, reminding him of that one lovely exception. Pale allure, subtle grace and stoic elegance, the perfect oppostion to his own sunny disposition and brash countenance. How the tool of Apollo must lament his own position in the sky, how he must wish his path through the sky revolved around the beauty of the moon. What a cursed life, to be eternally cleft from the other half of your soul. At least this is how his own fate seemed as he laid content on the crown of his father, basking in the soft light eminating off the object of his attention symbolizing his affection.
The sun could never curse the moon, it was beholden to the night as much as the sun was obligated to the day. Their mutual light and darkness carried unspoken understanding between them, two mirrored pieces of a whole broken. Such was that Naruto could not blame Sasuke for living outside of these walls, for stranding him here without any hope for his return or even a letter as solace.
Did the universe curse him to always await a reunion that would never be, or did it know the depth of his devotion and spare him the anguish that would surely accompany Sasuke's reaction? The pain of unrequited love was bearable beneath the alleviation of ignorance, unknowing if his love remained obtuse to his affections or this unending silence was that feared rejection.
A rueful grin spread at the thought of the many years of obliviousness he spent in friendship, unable to properly name that tightness in his chest, that unyeilding pull to another. How can someone name love when they have never known it? How can they appreciate its depth, its unique form when deprived of any of its various touches prior? All he knew was the harsh rage of mutual loneliness recognized but unspoken. Their fists alone proclaimed the need for closeness, battling these feelings with their bodies in the only way they had been taught, raised in a culture of violence. Yet Naruto's own feelings transcended the realm of friendship, had Sasuke known it then and that was the reason he denied their bond?
An embarrassing length of time passed before he could acknowledge the truths his heart held, deeply hidden in the fear of losing that most precious person. For all his effort, Sasuke was no longer a hunted man, but was essentially lost to Naruto all the same. Fortunately, rejection and loss were old friends, and he had come to accept their presence yet again.
The truth of his feelings remained known to him alone, or perhaps remained confirmed to one more accurate, surely the intelligence of those around him, of Sasuke as well, permitted them an inkling towards his own fragile feelings, he had never been heralded for his subtlety. How many times had Sasuke nad the others questioned his motivations? The answer of friendship always fell flat, even with his adamantine proclamations.
He understood his friends' silence on the matter, their hope never extinguished that his staunch dedication would fizzle into nothingness with time. They should all know by now, that flame lit within his heart would burn until his last breath, and even then surely into the next life as well.
Some nights sitting with those stone faces thoughts verbalized into accusatory interrogations, ghosts silent in their defense. How could you build a village on the dream of peace, only for it to descend into abject cruelty? There never would come an answer, the question itself could not allow one of adequate measure. There is no answer to violence that can satisfy those subjected to its wrath.
He wandered through the years, a clone to himself, and often utilized such technique to quench his own burning desire to escape his responsibilities, as hero and friend. Ironic, the trials he faced to escape isolation, only to resent his pedestal and long for solitude. Every smile was perceived disingenuous, the wisdom of his years implored him that a resentful leader would not achieve the change he had hoped for this place. He was proclaimed a hero, but he always knew his capacity for the opposite. His resident both encouraged and questioned his budding doubts, is this not what he had endured every tribulation to accomplish?
At what cost to the soul? To be trapped indefinitely to a place in which was becoming increasingly more impossible to feign his unwavering dedication? His position now was as much an elavation as a chain, still somehow a weapon holstered in the village for its infinite protection. The duality of man, to love and hate a place for the few people he called comrades and friends.
Nature is multifaceted and she rends all in complex variety to mirror this state, a simple mind could behold that truth, though his struggled to understand the path ahead of him, one that held any amount of peace for his heart and mental state. His attempts to lead that charmed life he dreamed as a child only drew the nauseating realization that this performance would extract pieces from him until only an empty shell remained, remade in the image painted of him, not actuality. His pathetic endeavor to build that picture perfect life, blushing bride and prestigious career, confronted him in such a way that the security of denial that could no longer remain. His only regret was breaking the heart of one who had only tried to give what he desired, now happy she had found this with another who could reciprocate that love fully.
Perhaps he was not meant for love, not in the ways others spoke of it. Love evaded him, only known in passing and never intimately. Every failed aspiration for its comfort fed his resolve that he had never known love, not even from himself. The hollowness that consumed him promised he could never discover that shackled to the ground that taught him to hate his own existence.
The growing apprehension and specultation to his condition, evident in the stress held in his body and exhaustion written into his blank face, plagued his companions and urged them to intervention. On one of those nights, eyes trained, finally with a look of peace, on that planetary being which afforded him that ellusive calm, his mentor found him, sanctuary disturbed.
"You are not yourself lately." What an underwhelming observation of the past years watching the blond slip into apathy towards his own existence, of all the sentiments to share, this proved the blandest. The man knew it was a sorry attempt to prompt conversation, the words tasted like ash in his mouth, though he feared the root of the issues, once uncovered, would render the tree incapable of recovery.
"Who am I?" Question met retort, resentment dispelled with its genuineness, the answer unknown to both.
"We- I want you to be happy. Soon you'll lead this village and-"
"I won't. I, I don't think I can."
"You'll do a fine job, don't doubt yourself."
He knew his strength, his ability to lead, this was not the issue at hand. He doubted the fulfillment this supposed dream turned reality could ever hope to gift to one who had long since questioned its purpose to him. A child's dream, unsustainable to an adult who now was faced with the aftermath of his ascent to honored one. Why did he crave the acceptance of this place? Did he truly believe at one time this would be his happiness?
"I'm tired. I'm done, that isn't my dream anymore. I proved I could do it, but I don't want it, you know. Sensei, I want to leave. Let me go."
Understanding pregnant between them, only duty held him here as he was without rival, the only power capable of opposing him would never dare restrain him to this blood-soaked land. There was no question, despite the asking of blessing for his departure, his leave would occur regardless of outside opinion. An indecipherable look passed from teacher to student, now surpassed, "Will you go look for him?"
Laughter laced with such sorrow, the sky wept above them, his misery cloaked in joy called like a siren to its empathy. "No, it's time to let that dream go as well. I think I'll go home."
Perplexity foreign to the man who donned it now drew a true bout of humor from the disenchanted man, the first genuine laugh heard from the quiet mouth in so many months. A vow to visit and a promise to aid in times of trouble were all that were left behind, no letter nor explanation came from the departed. None would suffice after all, so he abandoned his small apartment, a relic rebuilt from his past and took only that which was essential to his journey. Sentimentality earned its place, a decade old photo, frame slightly weathered, packed gingerly in between food and clothing. All his weaponry cast aside save for one kunai, given new purpose as a tool to survive and create rather than the former primary appointment as an agent for destruction and pain.
When the village woke, only a handful sensed an absence, one that had been growing now complete. Not a drop of guilt chased him as he flew through the forest, racing against himself to that beacon calling his return. An impossible feeling, to long to return where one has never been before, to feel at home in ruins and unknown. Perhaps a testament to his life, to feel a sense of belonging with this place, forgotten and abandoned. Finally, he had found a place ripe for setting his roots, to flourish under Uzushio's bright sky and boundless waves.
Home, a place to which he could return. Had this now barren landscape always been this, patiently waiting for its prodigal son? Sun bleached bones, purified under its light, now carried by its corporal form and laid to rest in the land those bodies had always called home.
Naruto lived his life as an apology to events beyond his control, and Uzushio did not allow his remorse for its past. Shared lament to the destruction of a place once filled with life and beauty, yes. But he had spent the majority of his life prostrating before a village over acts he never committed. Never again, not in his homeland. The skies darkened and the earth shook as reminders to him when that undeserved shame crept into his mind. Eventually all he felt was gratitude for this land that healed a broken man who had so long pretended to be whole.
He was no hero here, Naruto only stood apart as the only living human left to enjoy the warm breeze and salty sea air that whipped around the island. He was but a speck in the long line of legacy for his clan and their home. Always hoping for normalcy yet never granted its ease, always forced to stand apart, whether hated or revered, now he could simply be. Who am I? he had asked so many months ago. Uzushio was teaching him, or perhaps giving him the space to discover that answer for himself.
Time watched as Naruto toiled for no one but himself, building a home out of the ruins left as his only inheritance. The years passed as he learned to create, first helped with all of the multitudes inside of him, then slowing his pace to relish each addition and skill.
He became acquainted with each of these parts, these pieces of the puzzle that made the self. Parts he ignored, shamed, denied came into the light of day and he acknowledge them each for their role, a lesson he thought to have learned already. Now he was practiced, expertly welcoming each to the table and communing with himself. This he reckoned was what it was like to love, for he had done this before, looked into a soul, at every part without judgement and chose to love it. It had been for another, still was for him, and never felt like a choice to make but an inevitability, with a surity that love would always remain.
Many times Naruto found himself skating over the waves to nearby villages for supplies as he learned to construct shelters and cultivate the land. Every visit that trecherous heart would beat frantically at the thought of possibly finding him again here of all places, however small the chance. The tomatoes growing in the field his calloused hands had sown stood in defiance at the notion his heart had ever gave up. Ever the fool, he had more of the fruit than his taste could handle. At least the villagers appreciated his labor, gifting them with the abundance.
Time settled all things, even his aching heart. He still longed, each day a ritual in desire unfulfilled, though it became a comfort. What was once a whirlwind of pain turned draining presence, now was a companion in all things. How beautiful to love, even if not loved in return. It served as proof it was never fleeting, never something meant to fade away with the tides of time. It was always and it would be always. He learned to love even this piece, this love he had been too oblivious, or perhaps too ashamed, to verbalize before.
Naruto may be the only human left here, but fauna flourished despite the desolation wrought upon Uzushio's land. The mystery of their appearance was overshadowed by the joy of life roaming freely. He had decided mainly to fish, too enamored with the wildlife to hunt them for a meal. His restraint born of care gifted him with a precious companion.
Morning rays illuminated golden locks and beckoned blue eyes to creak open, happy rumble radiating through his body. Moments passed before the realization that this contented murmur came from the little being currently curled on his chest, lightly dozing and immensely pleased with its position. If anyone had been present to ask, it was named Tomato, but the little black cat and its human counterpart knew he had given it a name most precious to him, so alike its secret namesake he found this aloof yet loving creature to be.
Never was he alone for long afterward, his recently acquired shadow dutifully present every day, sometimes begging for attention and others respectfully keeping distance, just within sight. This Sasuke always sought him out, never did he feel the incessant drive to give chase, for the little creature always came back. Always.
The bond that tied them, that the sage had revealed was a historical bind between souls, often felt like a figment of the imagination at Sasuke's absence. While fate may intertwine them, they were people, too, with free will and a choice to solidify that bond or release it of its importance. In his youth, it felt like a string tied between them, what should be a tangible connection to relay those feelings guarded behind the impenetrable walls of Sasuke's heart. Now, he assumed any perceived convergence was a concoction of a lovesick mind, too desparate to admit its delusions.
Nearing his twenty-eighth year of existence and his fifth building a life in Uzushio, Naruto fell to his knees in agony that abided of its own accord. These feelings were familiar, but not his own and the first horrifying thought convinced him a tragedy had befallen that man his heart still held onto, though more a gentle carress of a memory than the tragic clinging of the past. Muscle memory had his pack situated on his back and his feet at the shore before a pitiful mewling shattered the trance.
Though he often felt renewed, finally content in learning himself and settled into this place, the mere thought of Sasuke in danger had him abandoning everything to track him down, as if his other half was not his equal in every way. Strength aside, he had his own circle of friends and confidants on which he chose to rely, and Naruto had not made the list in some time. Heart heavy and smile weak, he turned away and scooped the small cat into his arms, burying his face into the softness found there.
How easily was he prepared to abandon this home, the comforts he had built for himself, without second thought for someone he had not been in contact with in ages, who may not require or desire his aid. He would go to him, without question or thought, if he believed Sasuke truly needed or wanted his presence, always he would. But even his optimistic heart could not sustain such thought. Over a decade without any correspondence, no assurance, left Naruto with very little in the way of hope, though he still tended the flame with dedication.
Body now feeling spent and emotionally drained, he retired to his small abode, the tomato's patience in Naruto's tight hold a signal to his quiet distress at the abrupt shift in his typically stalwart companion. The two drifted into light sleep, cat a bastion against restless nightmares that had plagued his mind for so long now presumed before his descent into unconsciousness to resurface. Those terrors held at bay, his dreams were fuzzy images, neutral in context yet ushered in with adoration. Slim fingers carding through golden hair, soft grins and pleasant laughs ringing. Even in his dream, Naruto knew this would be painful after waking, no better than a nightmare, to be taunted with these hopes never to be realized.
As predicted, his eyes opened with too much moisture, the sheen blinked away with the morning grogginess. His faithful comrade, however, was no where in sight that tended to stick close until Naruto had fully risen with the day.
"Sasuke?" He called out, eyes widening in surprise once he turned to find him perched on the chair in the corner, cat in hand.