Chapter Text
Ask anyone about the most striking feature of Konoha, and they would likely point to the great faces of the Hokage monument. Etched severely into unforgiving rock, they make for quite a formidable spectacle. All those that look upon them are awed by their scale, and all beneath them are cast in their shadow.
What fewer could tell you, however, is that there is a spot on the engraving of Lord Fourth’s head that offers the best views of anywhere in the village. It sits directly above the engraving’s right eyebrow, nestled in the facsimile of hair, and is wide enough for one to stand comfortably in silent contemplation.
Naruto looks out over the settlement from it, Hokage cloak swirling behind him in the breeze. The night is dark, half-moon shrouded in cloud and the stars banished from view. But underneath him Konoha’s buildings gleam sharply, pinpricks of light piercing the gloom. It gives just enough illumination to make out the movement of people walking the streets, and he watches with a sense of weighted responsibility.
He had spent a lot of time up here as a child. Looking out over the buildings and imagining himself as Hokage. From this vantage point, he had always felt powerful. Like he could solve any problem and command the love and respect of those around him.
The reality of the title is something he couldn’t have predicted.
Because, really, there is no way he could have ever been able to appreciate what it truly entailed. Every single citizen relies on him, and every life is bound up in his decisions. It would be so easy to get things wrong. To wreak irrevocable damage.
It’s as he’s considering this that a crimson-haired figure melts from the shadows, slotting to his side like the piece of a puzzle.
“You did well tonight,” it says. “Most balk under the pressure of their first summit.”
Naruto regards Gaara skeptically. “Are you kidding? It was a disaster.”
“Not true,” he replies. “As always, you managed to reach your audience and make them see reason. Had anyone other than you been Hokage, fighting would have already broken out.” He lays a comforting hand on Naruto’s shoulder. “I’m just not sure how long it’s going to be able to hold things off.”
Naruto straightens, gathering some composure into his posture. “And how long is it going to be held off on your end?”
Gaara looks at him with green eyes that always seem to see right through his pretenses. “We of the Sand stand by you, of course. As we always will. But please know that we will protect the borders of our lands by any means necessary. If threats are made, we will act accordingly.”
“Understood,” Naruto says with a curt nod. “Any action needs to be taken swiftly.” His voice is tired when he continues. “Any ideas?”
There is a moment of silence as Gaara considers his words. When he speaks, he does so carefully. “Understanding of others and their problems must first come from an understanding of oneself,” he says. “Your mind is clouded. Fogged. It has been for some time. I would suggest that you take an opportunity to listen to it and consider what it is you want. What it is you are. Only then will things become clear.” He smiles reassuringly. “Take heart, my friend. I am sure you will find a way. You always do.”
And with that, he turns his back. “The Sand will be moving out tomorrow. It is unlikely that we will see you before then, so this is goodbye for now. Keep me updated on your position, and look after yourself.”
Then he is gone, leaping from the rockface to be swallowed by shadows.
Naruto watches after him with a pit in his stomach and the weight of the night settling heavily on his shoulders.
This is not going to be easy.
Over the next few days, Naruto tries to follow Gaara’s advice. He really does.
He meditates. He spends time focusing on his breathing and moving through exercises. He even drinks the nasty, bitter tea that Sakura insists is good for relaxation.
But no matter what he does, he finds no answers.
He has always been better with action than this sort of thing, and he finds his mind…drifting. Distracted.
And as such, he is ever-so-aware of Sasuke’s dark chakra swirling at the periphery of his senses.
The Uchiha, of course, has always been a point of focus. As a child, he had been someone to prove himself to and overcome. Then he had been someone to chase after. A goal to reach. These days, he is like Naruto’s missing limb. A severed part of him that he feels with an ache almost constantly.
The thought serves to frustrate him.
Because things have always been…complicated with Sasuke, but recently they’ve been outright impossible. Even when he had gone rogue, his anger had never felt personal. It had simply been a by-product of his experience, a wild storm of a thing which lashed out at anyone that came close.
Now, though, it’s like Naruto is the focus. Like he has done something wrong. And he can’t stand feeling like that is the case.
It gets so bad that he can’t think straight about anything, let alone the many problems currently facing the village. So as he sits at his desk, rereading a mission report for the tenth time in a row, he comes to a decision.
Gaara wanted him to ‘listen to his clouded mind’?
Fine.
Sasuke it is.
He leaves Konoha quietly, without preamble. Sasuke’s chakra, while distant, shines like a beacon. A lighthouse guiding him across the ocean. So he doesn’t have too much difficulty deciding on which direction to go, travelling north east through the Land of Fire’s thick vegetation and sparkling waterways. Soon enough, the nation’s border looms in front of him and the landscape becomes a little more mountainous. The sky rumbles with distant thunder, echoing the discontent bubbling in his veins. But for now, at least, the weather holds out around him. The sun bathes the land in warmth, and birds flit freely between trees.
He finds the Uchiha not long after, sitting at the edge of a stream with feet dipped in the water. His pants are rolled up to the knees and his cloak sits to the side, forgotten. Light reflects onto his pale skin in swirling patterns, and his ink-black hair is immaculate, defying the itinerant nature of his lifestyle.
At the sight, Naruto’s frustration evaporates.
It’s amazing how quickly the Uchiha can turn his emotions. How a snide comment could infuriate him beyond words, yet an offhand compliment could ignite a warmth in his stomach for days. How merely seeing him could have his heart racing faster than the most rigorous training session.
He calls out, heedless of interrupting the man’s peace, and the Uchiha flicks a look over his shoulder. One that is completely unsurprised at the blond’s presence.
It is also, after a moment of appraisal, very cold.
His eyes flash dangerously. And then he is in front of Naruto in a heartbeat, sword unsheathed. Naruto barely has enough time to blink before the weapon is impaled right through his chest.
“You want to talk,” Sasuke says, each word as sharp as his blade, “you do it in person.” Then he retracts the sword curtly, and the shadow clone dissipates in a cloud of smoke.
Naruto doesn’t see the Uchiha stride back through dew flecked grass to his position by the stream. He crosses his legs beneath him smoothly as he sits. Back straight. Eyes closed. Shoulders set.
The very picture of a man waiting for something.