Ello me lovelies, not much to say about the chap really, except Hot Damn this one is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster

Just a quick note though; in this fic sai is agender, which means they identify as 'genderless', and thus use gender-neutral pronouns (they/them/theirs), if you have an issue with that….. well you'll just have to get in line behind all the other homophobic sexist twatling toddlers that this fic seems to attract like flies (the Extremely Lesbian Content in this chap goes out specially to you, fuckwits!). Hate-speech comments will be deleted, as always, bc my lovely readers don't need to see that shit.

As for the rest of you, hope you enjoy!

"Keep still, I promise it's nothing bad."

Sakura's brows furrowed lightly, as she tried to turn her head towards the blonde flitting around her. "Riiiight, because last time I trusted you like this went so well-"

A hand slapped over her eyes just before she managed to open them. "I told you that wasn't supposed to happen!" Ino snapped, "If Tenten hadn't scared the shit out of me it would've been the most romantic moment of your entire life."

"Wow, you sure don't lack for confidence, huh?"

Snorting and finally releasing her girlfriend's eyes, Ino settled behind her once more, hands working with practiced ease through short, pink hair. "Well it's not like you've got any other experience to compare me to. And keep your eyes closed."

Sakura responded with a playful 'ouch' but her lids stayed firmly shut.

He wasn't watching them, no matter what anyone else might think; in fact, if he thought he could move from his current position hidden amongst the branches of a tall oak without alerting the two women to his presence, then he would've disappeared the second they'd wandered into the clearing, Sakura stumbling as she was led blindly through the trees, Ino walking backwards holding both her hands, the pair giggling uncontrollably with every awkward step.

He wasn't watching them, but he couldn't deny feeling a sliver of curiosity at the scene unfolding beneath his feet either.

Although he'd somehow found himself as the object of people's affections many times in his life, he'd never actually seen, or even really considered, romance. Sure, he'd been aware of it – he still remembered a time when he would stick his tongue out at every kiss his parents shared in his presence, the longing looks to his turned back, the giggles that seemed to follow him like a particularly persistent fly throughout his adolescence – but it had always been a distant and mysterious concept to him.

Maybe it was just because he'd always had other things distracting him, or he'd never wanted to actually look for it anywhere, but this kind of love was completely foreign to him. He probably could have gone his whole life not thinking about it and been quite happy, but now…

Ino had finally finished with her fussing, but instead of telling her girlfriend to open her eyes, she had taken the opportunity to just sit directly in front of her, staring and smiling in a way she'd never looked at him.

Even as inexperienced with romance as he was, it wasn't hard to identify the emotion.

"Hey, I can't hear you moving, can I look now?" Sakura mumbled, nose scrunching up slightly in a way that just made Ino smile even wider.

Carefully brushing her long skirt clean of petals and grass stains, the blonde woman said, "Yes."

Bright, clear, green eyes finally blinked open and immediately set to scanning the woman before her, with cherry blossoms woven into her long, thick, golden braid – even at this distance, his sharp vision easily picked up the way her mouth dropped open into a tiny 'o' and the slight blush dusting her cheeks – before pulling a lock of her shoulder-length hair forwards enough to see the small, purple flowers that cascaded down from the delicate crown placed atop her head.

She glanced around the clearing, reaching out to gently brush a cluster of tiny, pastel-coloured buds, smile growing as she took in all the others surrounding them.

Ino was practically bouncing in place as she leaned forwards, hands worming their way into Sakura's

His teammate grinned wide, mirroring her actions until their foreheads were pressed together. "Oh Ino… you're so cheesy."

There was a scandalised gasp and she was pushed onto her back; though not hard enough to stop her laughing. Ino crossed her arms, pouting, even as she mumbled, "Last time I do anything nice for you, ungrateful little-"

Lips were pressed hastily together and apologies were given, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to pay much attention to that.

This was something he didn't understand at all, but… there was something beautiful about it. He was happy, he supposed, that they'd managed to find it in each other – and definitely happy that they at least wouldn't be bothering him anymore – they deserved happiness, all of them did.

Sasuke didn't think he'd ever find it though. Even if he wanted to – and the thought of being in a relationship had never really appealed to him before – who would even take him? Looks he might still have, but even that couldn't possibly overcome… everything else.

He wouldn't know what to do with a relationship, even if he had one.

He certainly wouldn't be able to pull off any grand displays of affection like Ino had.

Still, he was an interloper, intruding upon a precious, personal moment, even if he didn't quite understand what was going on.

The two kunoichi were now lying side-by-side together in the grass, fingers idly dancing across the flowerbed Ino had apparently planted here herself, talking quietly in a language of sighs and laughter and incomprehensible in-jokes.

He would make his escape as silently as possible while they were distracted, hopefully they'd never know he was there; he didn't want to corrupt this moment for them.

The screams weren't ear-piercing anymore, though he knew that they hadn't softened at all. No, he'd just gotten so used to it that they were now little more than a monotonous background noise.

They'd never been the real trial anyway, as grating as they were and as on-edge as they left him – hand twitching for weapons he didn't have on him, eyes flickering to find no source for the constant wailing, shoulders hunching tighter as he tried to fight the urge to turn and defend himself from an attack that wasn't coming – what had always cut away at him were the visions.

Every time he closed his eyes, he was transported to a world of stark red skies and shadows of figures long gone from the world, the torture of his family painted across the back of his eyelids with each blink.

So, he kept his eyes wide open instead, staring unblinkingly at his dingy kitchen, small and mundane and safe and real.

Until crimson started to bleed in at the edges of his vision, the indistinct shape of the fridge in the dark morphed into something uncomfortably human, the constant drip of the leaky tap a perfect match to the inky blood, dripping down from the cupboards.

He closed his eyes again, for the blessed relief of empty black.

Five hours now, and it wouldn't stop.

It was one of the worst episodes he'd had since he was a child, when he was surrounded by the ghosts of loved ones he failed to save and with the Tsukuyomi visions of their deaths still planted clear in his memories.

Ten years on and he could still recall every second he spent in that unreal hellscape, every slash across a throat that splashed hot, sticky blood onto his face, every cousin who fell with an unsuspecting smile, how his uncle had soiled himself as he lay dying a slow, painful death, the way the sword sank through his mother's back and her hand reaching towards him, silent accusations on her lips, his father's-

His eyes snapped open again as the images once again encroached on his sight, blinding out the dark.

No matter how many times he saw this, it somehow never got any easier; in the real world he'd become completely desensitised to the even the most horrific kinds of violence – all shinobi did eventually – he could watch electricity burn through skin so fast that the victim didn't even have time to scream, he'd heard the shattering of bone beneath heavy steel, seen all the ways blood drained out of a person, leaving only a sallow, limp husk behind, so how could this still affect him so deeply? He really hadn't moved forward at all, had he, just convinced himself that the festering corpse of the boy he'd once been wasn't rotting away at the back of his psyche-

The crash of the chair hitting the floor jolted him out of his trance momentarily, he panted hard, beads of sweat dripping down his temples, room spinning around him.

He bent to lean heavily on the table, support himself when his legs were threatening to collapse from under him, but he failed to account for his missing arm – not quite toppling forwards, but being left unbalanced and shaky and pissed.

"You aren't strong enough." Sasuke bit back a whimper, absolutely refusing to turn to where the voice had sounded and face the brother that wasn't there.

"I will love you forever."

No! That was a lie and he knew it, how could someone who loved him so much ever put him through this torture, why couldn't Itachi find another way, any other way, something that didn't leave him like this, struggling not to sob into a battered kitchen table, limbs shaking and lungs attempting to choke him from the inside out.

He never should have returned to Konoha. The memories here were just too close, they lingered in every street, every corner, every sound, every smell; here was where you once played tag with your cousins Sayuri and Naoki, there you were once comforted by great aunt Chouko after a nasty fall, here you stopped before going home that day to buy some meaningless little trinket, there you were found alone and surrounded by bodies, hours after you'd blacked out.

Every little thing about this place brought back memories, more vivid and frequent than they ever were when he was away from his home village.

Why was he still fighting a battle that had been ended long ago? Why had the truth finally revealed to him by his brother done so little to alleviate his pain? Why had he agreed to come back? What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Closing his eyes against the horrific images etched into the wood-grain of the table, he pushed himself up with his weak arm, blindly staggering across his tiny apartment until he reached the door. Not even bothering to put on shoes, he let the bright moonlight mask the visions, as he dashed to the nearest empty training field. He needed to be somewhere he could safely lash out right now.

Sasuke took in a long breath – he really didn't like talking so much – before finishing, "In conclusion; the mission went without a hitch."

"…You know I honestly can't tell if you're being sarcastic, or if you genuinely take janitorial missions this seriously," Kakashi said, head leaning heavily in one hand, the other tapping rhythmlessly against his desk.

His only response was a raised eyebrow; his old teacher didn't need to know the reasoning behind all his actions.

Sighing, the older man rolled up and sealed the report, tossing it into the pile of scrolls in the corner – he either didn't notice that his throw disturbed half of the precarious mountain, or didn't care – leaning back in his chair and flashing a lazy, hidden smile. "Well, good job anyways, Konoha positively flourishes under your enthusiasm, I'm sure."

Not bothering to end the conversation like a normal human being, Sasuke spun sharply on his heel and started walking to the door.

"Ah, hold on just a second."

He frowned, hand hovering just over the door handle, but quickly wiped it away before turning back to his Kage. The man was rummaging through a drawer, thoughtlessly dropping scrolls and papers all around him as he searched. Apparently, his hope was that by being as negligent as he could get away with in his position – he wasn't completely irresponsible after all – someone would realise that he was absolutely not the person to be in this role and kick him back down to regular jounin, giving the title to anyone else but him.

It clearly hadn't been working out.

Kakashi's mumbling cut off suddenly as he finally located the scroll he was looking for. "Aha, here-" the red tube was casually tossed his way "-this arrived for you last night."

Dark brows met above his eyes, Sasuke turned the scroll in his hands, his question about getting another mission so soon was cut off before he could even open his mouth, the seal keeping the thing bound wasn't the kind usually found on official orders, was this about his parole or something?

"What's with that look? You act like you've never gotten a letter before."

"You know what this is about?" he asked, glaring at his sensei as though this was a trick of some kind – he wouldn't put it past him.

The man held his hands up in defence. "I don't make a habit of reading private correspondence," he said, before bringing his hands to rest behind his head and leaning back in his chair. "If it helps though, I believe that's the Kazekage's personal seal."

Kaze- Gaara? Why the hell would he be getting a letter from him of all people? Was this an official statement to a former criminal or something? Or… wait a minute.

Suddenly he had a very bad feeling.

Frowning at the innocent scroll like it might catch fire any second, he nodded and quickly made his retreat.

He took his time walking home, unfortunately, his stalling didn't last long; he had so little going on in his life, that by the time he'd finished ambling through the market to pick up some groceries and household essentials, he'd simply run out of ideas for excuses to not immediately head back to his apartment.

And the entire time, he felt the weight of the small scroll in his pocket, pulling at his consciousness, leaving all manner of unpleasant thoughts circling his brain constantly.

It'd been almost three weeks since he had accidentally sent the Kazekage a way-too-personal letter in a painkiller-induced delirium and in that period he'd managed to convince himself that there would never be a reply – hell, it probably hadn't even have reached him in the first place, no way could a message from a former criminal get into the hands of a world leader unvetted – and yet against all reasonable logic, he now had one.

He honestly couldn't tell if his fear was that the response might be everything he'd come to expect from Gaara, or that it might not be.

The door clicked softly as it swung shut behind him and his sandals made dull thuds as he kicked them off. The scroll was threatening to bend his back with its weight of potentiality, but he continued ignoring it as he wandered to the kitchen, putting his shopping into the designated cupboards, started the kettle boiling, cleaned and put away the few dishes left from last night, brewed some of the lavender tea that he'd been 'prescribed' by Tsunade to ease tension and anxiety – she didn't actually believe it worked, but had told him to come back to her with the results anyway, apparently she wasn't above using him as a guinea-pig – he'd even tidied the clutter that had somehow taken over his tiny living space while he waited for it to cool.

God, he was pathetic.

Finally out of menial tasks to distract himself, Sasuke sat heavily at his dining table and took a long swig of his tea.

It was too flowery for him, taste lingering on his tongue unpleasantly and he'd not left it quite long enough, so the liquid left a mild burn behind it, but in his present state of mind, he barely even noticed.

The scroll was lying innocently on the table-top, looking far more mundane than it had any right to. He'd expect a Kage's missive to be grand and extravagant, but the only thing decorating the black seal was an unfamiliar symbol, almost like a kanji, but more flowing and dotted with stars; perhaps it was written in Kaze no Kuni's native language?

Uncertainty making his hand clumsier than usual, he reached over and ran a sliver of chakra across it, letting the loose end fall open.

Another two minutes of back-and-forth on the potential merits of just hitting the thing with a fire jutsu and pretending he'd never received any such letter in the first place to anyone who asked, he finally, finally gave in and unrolled it enough to read what the Kazekage had to say to him.

Sasuke,

I was surprised to receive a message from you,

He couldn't help snorting; that had to be an understatement.

And I do not know if I'm the best person to help you through your struggles, I have much to atone for myself and even now make missteps, but I suppose I might have some valuable insights as someone who has already attempted the journey you are now on.

The first months were the most trying, when the memory of your actions looms large in the mind of those who once hated you and your own wounds are still raw. Many times, you will find yourself slipping back into anger; the urge to lash out at those who refuse to look upon you long enough to see your sincerity is a difficult thing to restrain… but it is the same way for them as well, fear is a natural response, likely one that has kept them safe before.

You will not overcome those impulses overnight, it took many, many months before I could stop myself attacking anyone who unknowingly stepped too close to an old mental scar. Even now, there are days when I cannot be around others for their own safety, not even my siblings or closest friends. Those days, I will seclude myself in my home, or escape to the most isolated parts of the desert, meditation helps, once the worst thoughts can be contained again, you may return to the original source of stress with more clarity and work to reassure them.

The views of others are unknowable things, difficult to truly understand and even more difficult to change. Start with those already closest to you, those who never abandoned you, even though they had the most reason, show them that you are willing to try, that you can come to care for them in the same way, become someone worthy of their love and respect and, if they are willing, then allow them to support you. I am sure Naruto will know best how to guide you, when the path ahead will be too steep and when to take a diversion. Eventually, you will be able to see through the haze and walk confidently on your own, but until then, there is no shame in letting yourself be led.

While your friends help you on the outside, you can focus on exploring and reconciling your own self; trying to change the world's perception of you, when you don't understand every part of your mind and soul is an impossible task and the struggle will only leave you frustrated. Take the time you need to rediscover those parts of you that you thought lost and salvage what you can.

Redemption is not something that one can ever hold in one's hands, it can only ever be given by others and what one may eventually forgive, another might cling to until their last breath. You do not do this with the intent to scrub yourself clean of all your sins, or to eventually be forgiven by all you have wronged – such goals will forever be unattainable to those like us – you do this because you truly want to improve the lives of others, whether you will be thanked for it or not.

I hope my words have helped you, even if there is still much I myself have to learn. If you have more questions, then I will do my best to answer them, just remember that this process will take time and overreaching may result in setbacks in the long-term.

What is coming is better than what is gone, Gaara.

P.S. Temari tells me that three weeks is an exceptionally rude amount of time to keep someone waiting for a reply. My apologies.

Finally leaning back in his chair after the third read through, Sasuke had to stare blankly at the ceiling for a good long while, wondering how advice could sound both blindingly obvious and unsurpassably daunting all at once.

Still, there was… something to Gaara's words, even if he couldn't currently see any practical application for them.

The man still understood him better than anyone else he'd ever met and their paths through life had run parallel, if not on the exact same tracks. Even if his advice was mostly metaphorical and not as specific as he'd like, there was much he could learn from someone so far ahead of him on their similar journeys. And, mixed in with the idealistic analogies that could've come straight from Naruto's mouth if they weren't quite so eloquent, there was certainly some of the blunt truth that the redhead seemed so adept at giving and that was something he could work with.

He glanced back down to the scroll, absently finishing the tea he'd completely forgotten about while absorbed in the message – by now it was cold and entirely unpleasant, but it wasn't like he'd enjoyed the taste in the first place – and tried to think of his next move.

Apparently, Gaara was more open to continued communication than he'd expected; the long delay might have suggested otherwise, but given the Kazekage's extreme honesty and undeniable awkwardness with any form of social interaction, he felt confident in this conclusion. Gaara wouldn't leave that door open unless he was willing to keep his word.

He wouldn't write back right away, he decided, he still wasn't quite sure what he would ask and he didn't want to let him know just how desperate he was, but he would remember that there was someone out there who he could turn to with the things he simply couldn't tell his team.

Until then, he would keep rereading the letter, perhaps by the seventh pass, he'd be able to believe that little promise; what is coming is better than what is gone.

The stares were annoying. Mostly because he couldn't be sure exactly how many there were, hidden as they were behind blank, expressionless masks.

Still, he didn't need to see the eyes on him to know that he was being intensely watched, all he could do was make an effort to not fidget in the hard chair and keep his own eyes on the dark, wooden floorboards, lazily tracing the grain with his gaze.

ANBU headquarters was pretty dead these days anyway; there wasn't much call for the missions they were specialised in right now, so most of the force had taken to performing regular jounin missions instead. And with the way the world was heading, maybe there wouldn't even be a need for the organisation at all in the not-so-distant future.

It still had its uses though, most notably keeping track of and assessing former S-ranked criminals who had been inexplicably given a chance to reintegrate into society.

Which was why he was here now, waiting for his parole officer – an elderly man who seemed far more invested in the multitude of toys and trinkets littering his desk, than the mental state of his charge, but at least he didn't pry too much – to call him into his office, where they would go through whatever new paperwork had somehow manifested in two weeks since their last meeting, perform a few cursory psychological tests and discuss how he was finding his most recent missions.

Sasuke wouldn't mind the parole meetings so much if they weren't so dull, but he couldn't honestly think of any realistic way his situation could be better, so he'd just have to put up with it for now.

At least no one else ever tried to talk to him.

"Ah, hello traitor."

He took a few seconds to close his eyes and let out a long, controlled breath, before finally deigning to give Sai a fleeting glare.

They – Naruto had been surprisingly intent on making that distinction clear – didn't drop their forced, fake, plastic smile for a second. Sasuke really didn't like them, though he couldn't quite rationalise why, not even to himself; it wasn't because they'd been his 'replacement' on Team Seven, as Kiba had suggested, he wasn't that petty, it was just an immediate and instinctual feeling he got from them.

But then… he'd felt the exact same thing when he first met Suigetsu, and even Naruto.

"I am surprised to see that you're allowed to wander without a leash."

Of course it didn't help that they knew exactly how to piss him off. Or maybe they didn't, and it was just an unwitting talent.

He bit back the desire to snap at them, that would help no one, so he only raised an eyebrow, and let his silence speak for him. The ANBU operative's smile seemed to falter just slightly, before coming back full-force as they took it as an invitation to settle into the seat right next to him.

"Though, I suppose that the only way to really remove your threat would be to keep you completely confined," they said, finally looking away from him, as they dug through their pouch and brought out a small sketchpad, "which would be a waste and would also make Naruto and Sakura unhappy, so congratulations on your undeserved freedom, traitor!"

The urge to hit them was truly staggering. He turned to glare at a clock instead, counting the seconds until he could escape to his meeting, teeth clenching ever tighter against the inside of his cheek.

Sai didn't even seem to notice. "They are both inordinately invested in your wellbeing, how do you do it? Are there any special books you've read on forming such strong bonds?"

He didn't respond, just silently begged for his parole officer to just once be early for something.

"Ah, I suppose not-" a faint clatter of pencils being swapped "-still I find it baffling that one can provoke such devotion by doing nothing, maybe it's something to do with these 'auras' I keep reading about? I did try asking Captain Yamato what mine was like, but he just gave me an odd look, perhaps a sensor-nin might know more, I think I will ask Ino next time I see her."

There was a brief, blessed moment of quiet as the ANBU focused on their art, only the sounds of pencil strokes and soft humming as they considered their work.

He was still slightly on edge, waiting for another barbed comment, or even a surprise attack, but as the minutes dragged on, with nothing more threatening than an accidental – probably – elbow dug into his ribs as they searched their pack for drawing equipment, they stayed quiet and surprisingly placid, unlike most who found themselves stuck in his presence, untrusting eyes and transparent, defensive body language hard to ignore.

But not Sai, they had just settled down right next to him – a little too close if he were honest – and kept any distaste they might feel for him blunt and brief; Naruto had tried to explain that they were still very new to socialising and didn't think before they spoke, but he hadn't really believed that until now.

If they could keep their mouth shut, he supposed their company wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"He's been different since you came back, they all have, their smiles are somehow… warmer now. Thank y-"

Finally, he could take no more. "What are you doing?" he asked, though his gaze stayed fixed on the clock.

"Drawing."

Sasuke had to stare at them for a long moment. Are they doing this on purpose? He thought, but the unusual, calm look on their face suggested otherwise, their dark eyes following their strokes with the intent of one looking for fault in their technique; an expression he was very familiar with himself. "No, why are you talking to me?"

They turned away from their drawing – which was far more colourful and abstract than he'd been expecting – and managed to look confused for all of three seconds, before settling back into their predictable smile.

"Because you are Naruto's friend and I would like to be friends with all of his friends."

He frowned deeply. Unable to bear the full force of that half-faked, half-sincere expression, he looked away, back to the minute hand of the clock, creeping ever closer to the half-hour mark. "Why?"

Sai hummed before answering, the gentle sounds of their sketching starting up once more before they answered, "Friendship is a pleasant sensation, why wouldn't I want to feel more of it?"

"You could find better sources than me."

"True," they said, grin unmoved by his sharp glower, "but… Naruto sees something in you worthwhile, I would like to discover what, and maybe I can learn from you how to become someone important too."

Something in their eyes as they said that reminded him an awful lot of his blond friend.

He snorted, glancing away at the movement off to his side just in time to see an elderly man waving him over.

Taking his time to get up, he gave his companion one last look. "You don't need to worry about that," he said, annoyed with himself at how soft his voice sounded to his own ears, "you haven't heard the way he talks about you to me. It's really fucking annoying."

With a short wave, he followed the old man along the usual path to his office.

"Making friends?" his parole officer asked, voice more bored than curious.

Sasuke almost wanted to cackle at the suggestion, but limited himself to just shaking his head. He didn't 'make' friends, friends just seemed to happen to him without his knowledge or consent, every time he turned around.