Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The Other Option

Naruto Uzumaki squinted at the page in front of him like it had just personally insulted him. The textbook was thick, heavy, and painfully dull, a relic of the ninja academy days he’d barely scraped through the first time. The title—Advanced Shinobi Governance and Legal Frameworks—made his eyes glaze over before he even hit the table of contents.

“Iruka-sensei,” he groaned under his breath, “why are you doing this to me…”

He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath his weight, and flexed the bandaged synthetic arm that rested awkwardly across his lap. A strange hybrid of chakra engineering and old-school medical ninjutsu, the thing was both a marvel and a burden. Granny Tsunade and Sakura had done their best—poured in hours of work, intricate seals, and chakra thread—until what had once been a gory stump was now something… usable. But it wasn’t the same.

He remembered waking up in the hospital after the Valley of the End battle, groggy and aching from chakra exhaustion, his body a mess of burns and bruises. What he remembered most though, was the emptiness—he’d reached for ramen with both hands and realized only one moved.

Sasuke had been lying next to him, silent as stone, stubborn as hell. They’d both lost an arm that day, but Sasuke had refused the offer of a prosthetic outright. Said it was her burden to bear. Some poetic, guilt-drenched crap like that.

Naruto hadn’t taken no for an answer.

It took a week to drag Sasuke to the medical compound. She kicked, punched, cursed, and at one point, bit him hard enough to break skin—but he didn’t let go. “I’m not letting you walk around half a person when you can be whole,” he’d shouted through a black eye and a split lip. “We didn’t survive everything just so you could wallow in self-hate, you idiot!”

In the end, Sakura drugged her. Granny Tsunade strapped her down. Naruto watched over the whole damn thing, bleeding and smiling like an idiot.

Now, Sasuke was in a dungeon—technically. More like a very fancy, chakra-sealed underground suite beneath the Hokage Tower. Her Sharingan eyes sealed with a special genjutsu-lock developed by the Yamanaka clan, her arms bound in high-grade chakra restraints, layers of protective seals wrapped around her like bandages. Some called it overkill. Others called it mercy.

Naruto just called it temporary.

She was still an international criminal, after all. Couldn’t exactly sweep the whole “tried to kill the Five Kage” thing under the rug, no matter how much goodwill Naruto had stored up from saving the damn world. Her last stand in the Land of Iron had been nothing short of a catastrophe. She’d arrived like a storm, spouting some nonsense about centralized power and shinobi unity under a single ruler. After Kaguya and Madara, she’d become convinced the old system was broken beyond repair—and she wanted to burn it all down and rebuild.

With herself on top.

She’d fought like a demon, every strike precise, brutal. The Raikage had nearly lost a leg. The Tsuchikage still had nightmares. Mei Terumi’s hair had caught fire—she hadn’t forgiven that. Only Gaara, quiet, calm Gaara, had hesitated—had looked at Naruto with something like a question in his eyes and stepped back.

The Daimyōs were rattled. The council was screaming for blood. Execution was on the table. It had taken everything Kakashi had—everything Naruto could bargain, threaten, and beg for—to stop it.

He’d stared down angry Kage and stubborn nobles with that same stupid grin and said, “You want to punish her? Fine. But not with death. Not with erasing someone who chose to come back.”

And yeah, maybe it was unfair. Maybe it was favoritism. But it was Sasuke.

Sasuke, who once protected him with her life. Sasuke, who had cried alone in the dark for a family torn apart. Sasuke, who had tried to shoulder the world’s hatred just so no one else had to. Who had gone too far. Done too much. Burned too many bridges.

But Naruto had always been in the water, waiting on the other side, hand outstretched.

Still, all that wasn’t going to get him out of studying.

He looked back at the book with a sigh and forced himself to read the same sentence for the third time. Something about shinobi jurisdiction and land-specific tax policies. Ugh.

His stomach growled. His brain itched. His arm ached.

“Being Hokage sucks,” he muttered.

He imagined Kakashi-sensei lounging somewhere in the Hokage office, flipping through one of those orange books with a lazy smile. That masked bastard had practically handed Naruto a to-do list a mile long and vanished behind bureaucratic smoke bombs.

Naruto scratched his head, eyes drifting to the window. Outside, Konoha buzzed. Vendors shouted. Kids played ninja in the street. The Village Hidden in the Leaves had never looked more peaceful.

And underneath it all, in the belly of the Tower, his best friend waited.

They hadn’t let him see her since the surgery. Said it was for his own good. Said she needed isolation, evaluation. Naruto had pushed, but not hard enough. Not yet. But the ache was building. Every day without her face, her voice, even her dumb scowl, made it worse.

Still, he kept his head down. Because if he wanted to protect her—really protect her—he had to be more than just a hero. He had to be a leader. A man the world listened to. The Hokage.

So he picked up the book, clenched his jaw, and started reading aloud.

“Chapter Three: The Shinobi Council and Legislative Authority in Post-War Konoha…”

One step at a time.

—T~T—

The late afternoon sun cut golden slants through the blinds of the Hokage’s office, warming dust motes that drifted lazily in the still air. Kakashi Hatake leaned back in his chair, eye narrowing slightly behind the edge of his ever-present book, the spine now forgotten against his gloved thumb. On his desk lay a freshly opened scroll marked with the seal of Kumogakure—bold, black ink, aggressive like its sender.

His other hand rested on the report from Amegakure. A fragile mess, that one. After Nagato and Konan had fallen, the power vacuum left in their wake had become a festering wound. Various warlords, rogue rain-nin, and ambitious petty lords had all tried claiming the ruins of Ame, but the people—traumatized, rain-soaked, and exhausted—refused to trust anyone beyond their borders.

Ame was breaking apart, quietly and in pieces. And yet Naruto, stubborn as he was, had made a promise. A promise to Nagato. A promise to rebuild what was broken.

Kakashi exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.

He didn’t blame the villagers for their mistrust. After being manipulated by Akatsuki, betrayed by both peace and war alike, they had locked themselves behind high walls and a hundred thousand rainy nights. No amount of Leaf emissaries or humanitarian aid could pierce that shell. Not yet, anyway. But Naruto believed in it. Believed in them. And if Kakashi had learned anything from his student, it was that you don’t bet against Naruto Uzumaki.

Just then, the door creaked open. Shizune strode in, dressed sharp as always, dark eyes already apologetic. She carried a heavy parchment like a funeral scroll, rolling it out as she approached.

“The Raikage sent it,” she said dryly. “Again.”

Kakashi didn't need her to elaborate.

He sighed—deep, tired, the kind of sigh that seemed to press years into his shoulders. “Let me guess,” he muttered. “A heartfelt plea for unity and understanding?”

Shizune snorted. “More like a blood-soaked tantrum.”

Kakashi skimmed the message. It was the same as before—thinly veiled demands for justice, wrapped in diplomatic language that fooled no one. The Raikage wanted Sasuke Uchiha’s head on a plate. Or, barring that, her body in a cell. A Kumo cell.

“They want her Sharingan,” Kakashi said flatly. “That’s all it’s ever been. The rest is just window dressing.”

“And her bloodline,” Shizune added, voice taut with disgust. “They want to breed her.”

Kakashi didn’t say anything for a long moment. His visible eye hardened, gaze drifting past the edges of the scroll, toward something much darker.

“Kumo’s always had a taste for bloodlines,” Shizune continued, tone sharp now. “They tried to kidnap Hinata when she was a child. Neji’s father died because of it. Now this.”

“Shameless,” Kakashi murmured.

He could already imagine the arguments. “She’s dangerous.” “She attacked the Five Kage.” “She’s unstable.” All technically true. All irrelevant. Because what the Raikage wanted wasn’t justice—it was leverage. Kekkei Genkai. Military advantage. A weapon with the Uchiha name.

“And they’re not alone,” Shizune added, leaning forward. “Iwa and Kiri have been whispering behind closed doors. Same concerns. Same suggestions. No one’s said it outright yet, but... they’re waiting. For a moment of weakness. For Naruto to lose his grip. For us to flinch.”

“And the Samurai?”

“They remember the Land of Iron. She made fools of them at the Summit. Killed a few of their number. Their pride’s still bleeding.”

Kakashi closed the scroll with a flick of his wrist, setting it aside like a pile of garbage. He didn’t need to reread the threats painted as diplomacy. What he needed was time—and time was running out.

“The only thing keeping them from taking matters into their own hands,” Shizune said quietly, “is Naruto. He saved them. He saved all of us. And they know it.”

Kakashi leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, hands steepled beneath his chin.

“Then we use that,” he said simply. “His goodwill is currency. As long as he stands by her, they won’t dare act openly. But we can’t count on that lasting forever.”

“We need a plan,” Shizune agreed.

“No,” Kakashi said, voice low. “We need a decision.”

He stood, straightening his coat. The hat of the Sixth sat idle on the shelf, untouched today. Some symbols weighed heavier than steel.

“Summon the councillors,” he said. “The elders. The clan heads. Even the civilian representatives. Tell them it's urgent.”

Shizune paused. “It’s really come to this?”

Kakashi met her eyes, calm and clear.

“Sasuke Uchiha is a threat. She’s also a hero. A war criminal and a war survivor. We can’t pretend she’s not both. So we decide what she is to us now—Konoha’s responsibility, or Konoha’s liability.”

“And if the council votes to hand her over?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Then we’ll deal with that when it comes. But I won't let a decision be made in silence.”

Shizune nodded, bowing slightly. “Understood.”

She turned to leave, but paused at the door. “Naruto’s not going to like this.”

“No,” Kakashi said, settling back into his chair. “He won’t. But he deserves to know what we’re up against. And he’ll fight harder because of it.”

The door closed with a soft thud behind her, and Kakashi let the silence settle around him again. Outside, the village hummed—peaceful, thriving, and oblivious to the storm creeping just beneath the surface.

He reached for the Ame report again, but his hand hesitated. Instead, he stared out the window, eyes distant. The world had been saved, yes. But it hadn’t healed.

And wounds left untreated always fester.

—T~T—

Naruto slouched over the book like it owed him money, eyes heavy, the words blurring into a meaningless string of bureaucratic nonsense. His synthetic arm throbbed dully beneath the bandages, tinged with chakra pulses that he still hadn't gotten used to. Every few minutes, he'd shift or scratch at it, fingers too numb or too twitchy to control. The paper smelled like old ink and depression.

In the back of his mind, Kurama yawned loudly.

“You know,” the fox drawled, “you may have your dad’s hair, but you’re definitely your mother’s idiot child. What kind of Hokage-in-training nearly sets himself on fire trying to cook rice?”

“Shut up,” Naruto muttered.

“And you read slower than a tree grows. If you didn’t have chakra, I’d worry your brain stopped working altogether.”

Naruto was mid-eye-roll when a knock came from the door.

He blinked, surprised. Not many people came to his apartment without warning. He got up, cracked his shoulder with a wince, and shuffled over. As he opened the door, he was met with the soft sound of fabric shifting and the gentle scent of herbs and lavender.

Hinata stood there, her hands twisting the hem of her jacket, her cheeks flushed pink beneath the long bangs that framed her pale face. She held a cloth-wrapped lunchbox in both hands, eyes flickering up to meet his for just a second before darting back down again.

“H-Hey, Naruto-kun,” she said quickly, bowing slightly. “I—I hope I’m not interrupting… I just… um…”

Naruto blinked, then smiled, warmth creeping into his tired eyes. “Oh, hey Hinata! Nah, you’re not interrupting at all. Come in, come in.” He stepped aside, but she hesitated on the threshold.

“I… I brought you something,” she said, lifting the lunchbox like a shy offering. “I made too much for lunch, and I remembered how busy you've been lately, so… I thought maybe you hadn’t eaten…”

He took the box gently, fingers brushing against hers, and gave her a sheepish grin. “Thanks, really. I’ve been so swamped with all this… paperwork junk, I haven’t had time to go out for food. And this arm—” He flexed the synthetic limb with a dramatic grimace, “—still acts up sometimes. I burned a whole pan of eggs this morning. It smelled like the inside of Gai-sensei’s training shoes.”

Hinata giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand. Her shoulders relaxed just a little.

“If… if you want, I can b-bring food for you daily…” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes locked on a fascinating spot on his carpet.

Naruto blinked, caught off guard, then rubbed the back of his neck, bashful. “Aw, you don’t have to do that, y’know! I mean, I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“I-It’s not trouble,” Hinata said quickly. “I—I’d be happy to. Really.”

Naruto opened his mouth to reply when a sudden thud made them both jump. The sound had come from the window.

He turned his head—and there, pressed awkwardly against the glass like a bird who hadn’t quite mastered landing, was Sai.

Naruto frowned. “Why is he knocking on my window…?”

Hinata blinked. “Oh—um—hello, Sai!” she said, waving politely.

Sai tilted his head, blinked once, then said with the grace of a thrown rock, “Who are you again?”

Naruto turned so fast it looked like he got slapped by the question. “OI! That’s Hinata! Y’know—Hinata Hyūga?! She was there, Sai! During the war! She saved my life! What’s wrong with you?!”

Hinata’s smile faltered like a candle in the wind, and she looked down again, her voice quiet. “It’s okay…”

Sai remained expressionless. “I see. I apologize. I have trouble remembering people who do not have distinctive features.”

Naruto looked like he was about to blow a gasket. “She’s got the freakin’ Byakugan! That’s pretty damn distinctive!”

Sai nodded thoughtfully. “Ah. Yes. Eyes like a dead fish. Now I recall.”

“WHAT—?!”

Hinata, red as a tomato, looked like she wanted to sink into the floor.

But Sai was already moving on. “Regardless, Lord Hokage has summoned you, Naruto. It’s urgent. I was told to come find you immediately.”

Naruto’s frustration sputtered as the weight of those words hit him. His mouth closed. He set the lunchbox gently down on his desk, already reaching for his jacket.

“Thanks for coming, Sai,” he said, more serious now. “Tell Kakashi-sensei I’m on my way.”

Sai nodded once and vanished like a ghost—straight out the window again.

Naruto turned back to Hinata, offering an apologetic grin. “Sorry ‘bout that. Sai’s… well, he’s weird. But he means well. Kinda.”

Hinata shook her head quickly. “No, it’s okay. I should be going anyway.”

He looked at her, saw the flicker of sadness still clinging to her eyes, and hesitated.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Thanks again. For the food. And for coming by.”

She smiled—small, but real this time. “You’re welcome, Naruto-kun.”

He watched her go, her steps quiet and a little too quick. Then he grabbed his forehead protector, slung his jacket over his shoulder, and took one last glance at the steaming lunchbox on his table.

“Guess I’ll eat it on the way.”

Kurama stirred lazily in his gut.

“You better keep her. She’s too good for you.”

Naruto didn’t answer, but the grin on his face lingered as he leapt out the window after Sai.

—T~T—

Naruto jogged up the stairs of the Hokage Tower, wind tossing his blond hair as the village bustled behind him, oblivious to the weight hanging above its hero’s head. He rubbed at his tired eyes—Hinata’s bento box had kept him from starving, but no amount of miso rice and sweet egg could brace him for the kind of summons Kakashi-sensei had sent.

He reached the top landing where Izumo and Kotetsu stood on either side of the doors, like always. But they weren’t their usual lazy, half-smirking selves. They didn’t throw a teasing jab or a sarcastic comment about his latest stunt. Instead, both of them were solemn. Too solemn.

Naruto slowed, furrowed his brows. “Yo,” he said, trying to sound casual. “You guys look like someone kicked your cat.”

Neither laughed.

“What’s wrong?”

Izumo shifted, uncomfortable. Kotetsu looked down at the floor.

“Nothing,” Izumo muttered. “All the best, hero.”

Hero.

That word stung when they said it like that. Like it didn’t mean what it used to. Like it couldn’t fix what was coming.

Naruto frowned. “Alright…”

He stepped past them and pushed open the doors.

The Hokage’s office was quieter than usual, and that was saying something. The walls, decorated with mission maps and old scrolls, felt tighter, closer. Like the air was holding its breath.

Kakashi sat behind his desk in the center, Hokage robes pristine, face unreadable. Beside him, sitting with one long leg crossed over the other, was Lady Tsunade—arms folded, scowl carved into her face like stone. On the couch behind her sat Sakura, posture straight but hands clenched tightly in her lap.

Shikamaru stood near the corner, his face drawn, eyes sharp and shadowed. Shizune lingered behind Kakashi’s chair, face pale.

It felt like a war council.

Naruto stepped inside slowly. “Yo,” he greeted. “Why’s everyone here?”

Then he caught the look on Sakura’s face. The tension in Tsunade’s shoulders. The way Shikamaru wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He stiffened. “Is it Ame? Did they reject the aid offer again? Another civil war brewing?”

Kakashi shook his head. “It’s nothing like that.”

Naruto’s voice hardened. “Then what?”

Kakashi’s single visible eye met his. Calm, steady, tired.

“It’s about Sasuke.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Naruto’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need the rest.

“They want her execution, huh?”

No one answered. They didn’t need to.

Naruto’s voice rose, angrier now, paced with frustration. “She helped stop Madara! She fought Kaguya with us! Yeah, she was a damn asshole, and yeah, she screwed up—a lot—but without her, none of us would be standing here right now!”

Kakashi didn’t flinch. “I know.”

“I was in a virtual summit early this morning,” he continued. “The Shinobi Union—Raikage, Tsuchikage, Mizukage, and even some of the Daimyō—have voted. They’ve declared her an international criminal and ruled for her immediate execution.”

Naruto’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Those ungrateful bastards.

Rage sparked behind his eyes. Not because they were wrong to fear Sasuke, but because they were cowards who wanted a clean, easy end to something they didn’t understand. Killing her wouldn’t bring peace. It’d just bury another mistake.

But Naruto knew he couldn’t declare war. Not for this. Not again.

“I read something in a book,” he said suddenly, desperation giving way to inspiration. “We can fake it. Say she’s dead—executed or something—but we actually just keep her hidden. Safe. Somewhere remote. No one has to know.”

Tsunade scoffed. “That’s stupid, brat.”

Naruto’s head snapped toward her. “What? Why?!”

“Because secrets don’t stay buried forever. And the second one person slips, she’ll be hunted like a stray dog. Do you want her looking over her shoulder every day of her life?”

Naruto growled low in his throat, slamming his real hand on Kakashi’s desk. “Then what?! We can’t just let her die!”

Kakashi closed his book, voice measured. “I have a solution.”

Naruto stared. “...I’m listening.”

“You’re not going to like it,” Kakashi added. “And Sasuke might hate it more than anyone.”

Naruto took a breath. “Will it save her life?”

“Yes.”

“Will she be free?”

“Yes.”

“Will she be hunted? Or used by someone else?”

“Not if we do this right.”

Naruto nodded, jaw set. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Sakura blinked. “Wait—don’t you want to hear what the plan actually is?”

Naruto shrugged, eyes blazing with conviction. “Oh, obviously, y’know. I just figured I’d say yes first.”

Tsunade groaned.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, fingertips pressed together.

“You have to marry her.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

Naruto froze.

Everything stopped. The air. The chakra. Even Kurama in his gut went dead silent.

“I’m sorry?” he said, blinking.

Kakashi repeated, completely straight-faced. “You have to marry Sasuke.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

Naruto stared like he’d just been told to arm-wrestle a mountain.

Shikamaru muttered, “Man, this is such a drag.”

“Wait—what the hell kind of plan is that?!”

“It’s political,” Kakashi said, calmly laying out the impossible. “If Sasuke becomes your spouse, she legally becomes a citizen under your protection. Not as a shinobi—she’ll be stripped of her rank and status—but as the wife of the Hero of the War. No nation, not even Kumo, will challenge that. Not openly. And with you being the future Hokage…”

“It’ll be a diplomatic nightmare if anyone tries to touch her,” Shikamaru finished.

Naruto stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out how the hell his life had gotten here. He'd expected paperwork. Maybe a mission. Not marriage.

“And what about what Sasuke wants?” he asked.

“She’ll hate it,” Sakura admitted. “She’ll probably try to kill you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Naruto muttered.

“But she’ll be alive,” Tsunade said softly.

Naruto rubbed his face. His hand dragged through his hair.

“…Are we talking like… actual marriage, or… paper marriage?”

“That’s up to the two of you,” Kakashi said. “All I need is the signature and the ceremony. The rest is your problem.”

Naruto sat down hard in the chair across from Kakashi’s desk.

He had faced Madara, Obito and Kaguya. Monsters. The death of his mentors. He had held Sasuke’s bleeding body in his arms at the Valley of the End. He had walked through hell for this world.

And now, apparently, he had to get married to save it.

“…Do I at least get a tux?”

Chapter Text

Truths of the Heart

Naruto leapt up from the chair like he’d been zapped. “This is insane! I’m not doing it!”


Kakashi didn’t flinch. Tsunade just raised an eyebrow. Shikamaru folded his arms. Sakura sighed, as if she’d seen this coming from miles away.


“I mean, come on!” Naruto threw his hands in the air. “Marriage?! That’s the best you could come up with? How does this even make sense?! You’re talking about shackling someone’s life to mine just to make the paperwork go away!”


“Technically,” Shikamaru drawled, “we’re shackling your life to hers.”


“Not helping, Shikamaru!”


Kakashi steepled his fingers. “It’s not just paperwork, Naruto. It’s diplomacy. You’re the only person in the entire Elemental Nations who can stand between her and a death sentence and not start a war. No one would dare touch the woman married to the Hero of the Fourth Great Shinobi War. Not the Daimyō, not the Kage, not even those vultures in the Land of Iron.”


“Yeah, because I’m the cage!” Naruto barked. “You’re basically putting a leash on her and wrapping it around my neck instead!”


“That’s the point,” Tsunade said bluntly, arms crossed. “To them, it looks like she’s under control—safe, domesticated. A docile Uchiha housewife under the thumb of the man who saved the world. She becomes politically untouchable and you become the excuse.”


Naruto looked at all of them like they’d grown a second head. “Domesticated?! She’s Sasuke Uchiha, not a damn puppy!”


“You’re not wrong,” Kakashi said. “But this gives her a legitimate position in the world again. Not as a shinobi, but as someone protected by the most powerful village. She won’t be hunted. No one will be able to exploit her bloodline. And she’ll get a shot at rebuilding her life.”


Naruto’s fingers clawed through his hair. “We’re not even lovers! We’re just—friends! Best friends! That’s all it’s ever been!”


“Do you think Sasuke is sexy?” Tsunade asked casually.


The room went dead quiet.


Naruto gawked. “What kind of question is that?!”


“You told me you liked C-cups,” Shikamaru added with a shrug. “There you have C-cups.”


Naruto whipped around. “You—fucking traitor!”


“And Lord Jiraiya once told me you liked girls who weren’t too tall,” Kakashi said with a lazy smile in his eyes.


Naruto looked betrayed on a spiritual level.


Sakura piped up, surprisingly soft but cutting all the same. “And you’ve always been… obsessed with Sasuke. That wasn’t just rivalry, Naruto. You chased her across nations. You nearly died for her. Multiple times. You never did that for me—and I proposed to you.”


Naruto winced. That one hurt. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor.


“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “It’s not like that. It’s… it’s not.”


“Is it?” Tsunade asked, watching him sharply. “Because for someone who claims they’re just friends, you’re awfully ready to risk your whole life for her. You were willing to get executed with her. You carried her broken body back from the Valley of the End like she was your whole damn world.”


Naruto didn’t say anything.


He couldn’t.


His thoughts were a wildfire.


“But what about Sasuke?” he asked, finally, voice small. “Her freedom? Her choices?”


Tsunade looked at him, something softer in her expression. “Do you want a dead Sasuke… or an alive one?”


Naruto clenched his fists. His breathing was shaky. “But… Hinata… she confessed to me…”


“And?” Kakashi asked gently. “Do you even like her?”


Naruto opened his mouth.


Closed it.


Opened it again.


Nothing.


Sakura nodded to herself like she’d known it all along. “You never liked Hinata that way. You like her as a classmate. Maybe even a teammate someday. But you never looked at her the way you look at Sasuke.”


“I don’t—!” he tried, but the words caught in his throat.


Truth had a cruel way of cutting deeper than kunai.


He looked terrified. Like some part of him had just cracked, and he didn’t even know what it was made of until it splintered.


But more than that, he looked trapped. Between duty and friendship. Between loyalty and something else he hadn’t dared to name.


“Sasuke…” he whispered. “She’ll never forgive me for this.”


“No,” Tsunade admitted. “She probably won’t. She’d rather die with dignity than be tied down like this.”


“Then how do we—?”


“We’ll convince her,” Kakashi said. “It won’t be easy. But leave that part to us. You’ve already done enough.”


Naruto swallowed, hard.


He looked up, eyes bloodshot with the beginning of something he wouldn’t call tears.


“You’re asking me to be her jailer.”


“No,” Kakashi corrected. “We’re asking you to be her sword and her shield. Like you’ve always been.”


Silence.


Naruto shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. Steady this time. No more excuses.


“I swear,” he said, voice low and resolute, “if she says no, I’ll run. I’ll take her and disappear. I’ll hide her in the mountains or across the sea. No one will ever find her. I won’t let them kill her.”


A long pause.


“Then,” Kakashi said softly, “is that a yes from you?”


Naruto nodded.


“…If—and only if—she says yes.”

—T~T—

Darkness. It had been her world for days now—maybe weeks. Time didn’t flow normally down here, in the pit beneath the Hokage Tower. The only light she knew came from the sound of footsteps and the occasional clang of metal trays. Her vision was sealed under thick visors, blinding both her Rinnegan and Sharingan. She wasn’t sure if the seals over her hands were tight enough to cut circulation or if she was just numb by now.


She didn't ask to use the bathroom, though she needed to. Uchiha pride was a cruel master—too proud to beg, too proud to speak. The guards outside were polite, silent. Not perverts, no. But men nonetheless. That alone was enough to keep her silent.


Then came the hiss of a sliding door and the sharp scent of clean fabric. Two pairs of footsteps echoed in the silence. One familiar, dragging ever so slightly on the left. The other—softer, lighter, but burdened.


"Good evening, Sasuke," came Kakashi’s voice, smooth and casual like they were meeting for tea. "Hope you're enjoying your stay."


She smirked faintly, even though her lips barely moved. “As pleasant as a stone cell can be,” she said. “Not that I’m complaining.”


"We're sorry," Sakura added, her voice hesitant. “It’s for the best.”


“It’s fine.” Sasuke tilted her head slightly toward the sound. “How’s Naruto?”


A pause followed. The kind that tells you everything before anyone speaks.


“He’s… fine,” Sakura finally said. “Busy with his studies. Preparing for the Hokage seat.”


Sasuke nodded to herself. "Of course he is. He always does what he says he'll do." Then her tone dropped, flat and sure. “So? What brings you here? I doubt it's a social call.”


Kakashi chuckled awkwardly. “You know us too well.”


“I’ve known you since I was twelve. You’re not subtle. Just get to the point.”


Silence. Then a long, deep exhale from Kakashi.


“…The Shinobi Union has reached a decision. About you.”


Sasuke’s body didn’t flinch. Her breath didn’t hitch. She sat wrapped in that restraining cloth like a ghost inside a coffin.


“They want me executed.”


It wasn’t a question. It was fact. It was prophecy.


“…Yes,” Kakashi said quietly. “Declared this morning.”


Sasuke inhaled through her nose. Exhaled through her mouth. “I see.”


And that was all she said. No outrage. No tears. Just cold acceptance, like she’d known this moment would always come.


“I tried to negotiate with them,” Kakashi added.


“Why?” she asked, and for the first time there was a trace of surprise.


“Because you’re my cute little genin.”


“Shut up,” she muttered. “Just tell me what you cooked up.”


Kakashi’s voice turned serious. “You will be stripped of your shinobi status. Permanently.”


“Acceptable,” she said. “I figured as much.”


“You’ll be under 24/7 surveillance.”


She tilted her head, amused. “Not surprising. Who’ll be watching me? Someone from Kumo? Iwa? Mist?”


“…Naruto.”


Sasuke paused.


That… wasn't bad.


In fact, it might be the only option that didn’t disgust her. If anyone had to see her at her lowest, it was better it be him. She owed him that much, at least.


“When am I being released?”


“Tomorrow.”


“Fine. Thank you, Kakashi.”


There was a long beat. Then Sakura, quiet and uneasy, spoke up.


“You’ll try to kill him.”


Sasuke blinked under the visor. “Excuse me?”


“Because…” Sakura faltered. “Because sensei did something you’ll hate.”


There was a shuffling noise—like Kakashi waving his arms. “Wait, wait, Sakura, no—let me—don’t just drop it like that—”


Sasuke’s voice sliced through the room like ice. “What did you do?”


Kakashi went silent. Even the ever-chirpy Sakura struggled to speak.


Sasuke spoke again, voice lower, colder. “What. Did. You. Do?”


A pause.


Then finally, Sakura's voice, shaking with the weight of what she had to say.


“You’ll be under Naruto’s watch… twenty-four-seven. Not just as a tenant. Not just as someone under house arrest.”


Sasuke’s breath caught. “Then as what?”


“…As his wife.”


The silence that followed felt like the collapse of a universe.


For the first time in months—maybe years—Sasuke had no words. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Her mind, so often sharp and ready, hit a wall it couldn’t climb.


Wife.


The word didn’t even register fully.


She’d imagined death.


She’d prepared for execution.


But this…?


This was worse.


This was life. Shackled to another.


This was being turned into someone’s something—a role, a position, a symbol to satisfy the fears of the world.


Her lips trembled before they shut tight. Her fists, still bound, would’ve crushed bones if they could.


And Naruto…


Why would he agree to something like this?


He wouldn’t.


He couldn’t.


Not unless…


Her breath grew shallow, like the cell had shrunk and the air had vanished.


When she finally spoke, her voice was like frozen steel. “That idiot. That damn idiot.”


But her heart thudded just a little louder.


Because deep down, she knew—


Of all the ways to live again… being chained to Naruto might be the only one that didn’t feel like a curse.

Sasuke sat still in her bindings, silent as a tomb.


“So,” she finally said, voice devoid of weight, “if I refuse… I die. That’s it, right?”


“Yeah,” Kakashi replied quietly. There was no dramatics, no softening of the truth. He knew better than to insult her with lies.


Sasuke tilted her head back slightly, visor pressing into the wall behind her. Cold stone against her scalp, cold steel wrapped around her pride. It should’ve made her feel something. Anything. But there was just… stillness.


It made sense, in a way. She hadn’t planned on living this long anyway.


She had lived her life by the edge of her blade, in shadows and vengeance. She had gutted every joy she might’ve had with her own hands. She killed the brother who died with a smile on his face, not for his own peace but for hers. And even after knowing the truth, what did she do? She waged war on the very people he protected. She’d turned her back on everyone—Kakashi, Sakura, the entire village. Even Naruto.


Naruto.


She tried to kill him too. More than once.


And still… he came after her.


Every. Single. Time.


He lost his hand in their final fight. If it weren’t for Tsunade and Naruto’s own relentless spirit, he might’ve been disabled forever. And what had she done to deserve that loyalty?


Nothing.


No, worse than nothing. She had spat on his friendship, thrown his love back at him, laughed in the face of every hand he extended.


And now they wanted to give her back a life?


With him?


She wasn’t blind to her sins. She wasn’t deluded enough to think herself worthy of mercy.


And even if she survived, married, freed—what then?


The world would whisper behind her back. Some would shout it out loud. The murderer. The traitor. The monster Uchiha. There would be no peace. Only tension. Only suspicion.


And Naruto… he deserved someone radiant, someone kind. Someone who hadn’t drowned the world in blood. Not someone like her.


She wasn’t even that pretty.


She was scarred. Emotionally twisted. Riddled with regrets and guilt. Her body was lean and sharp like a blade, not soft and inviting like the girls Naruto could easily have if he wanted. And emotionally? She didn’t know what love even looked like anymore. Let alone how to give it back.


As if reading her mind, Sakura leaned forward, voice clear and cutting.


“You’re thinking too much,” she said. “We all know that Naruto’s always been obsessed with you.”


Sasuke flinched. That word—obsessed—landed like a stone in her gut.


“Who else,” Sakura continued, “would chase a friend across the world? Get beaten by some random Rain shinobi while already bleeding out—just because he wouldn’t give up on you?”


Kakashi’s voice followed, calm as ever. “Who else begs the Raikage on his knees not to kill a friend? And almost starts a war just to keep you alive?”


“You didn’t have anyone,” Sakura said softly. “But he was always there. Even when we gave up, he didn’t.”


Sasuke’s mouth twitched. “That doesn’t make it love. He’s just a fool.”


“You were his first kiss,” Kakashi added, teasing just enough to break the heaviness.


“T-that was an accident!” Sasuke snapped, actual heat rising to her cheeks for the first time in… gods, she didn’t even know.


“In the Academy, yeah,” Kakashi said, amused. “But it still counts. And you were his too. I’d bet my pension.”


Sasuke grit her teeth. “That means nothing.”


“Then why do you care?” Sakura said gently. “Why haven’t you just told us to get lost?”


Sasuke had no answer.


And in that silence, the weight returned. Thicker. Heavier.


Kakashi’s voice was no longer playful. “We don’t have much time. The Union wants a decision. What is your answer?”


The air in the cell turned brittle.


Sasuke turned her face away slightly, the side of her cheek pressing to the inner lining of the visor. The quiet stretched out until her voice finally reached them, steady and soft.


“Give me a night.”


Kakashi nodded. “Alright.”


“But remember,” Sakura added, kneeling slightly closer, her hand ghosting near Sasuke’s restrained fingers, “if anything happens to you, if you give up now… everything Naruto endured for you, every sacrifice—would become meaningless.”


“He’ll suffer more than anyone else,” Kakashi said, solemn now. “Again.”


They stood, their footsteps echoing as they retreated. The cell door creaked closed behind them, locking the silence back in with her.


Sasuke sat there, still swaddled in her bindings, alone in darkness.


And for the first time in years, she felt something crawl into her throat.


Not regret.


Not fear.


But something small.


Something tender.


A flicker.


And it sounded just a little like… Naruto.

Naruto sat on his futon, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. The lunch Hinata brought sat untouched on the table, growing cold beside the half-read textbook Iruka had guilt-tripped him into tackling. His new arm, still wrapped in cloth and chakra-weaved bandages, twitched occasionally, unfamiliar and awkward. The prosthetic didn't ache, but everything else did—his brain, his chest, his damn soul.


Marry Sasuke?


The words still echoed like a bell rung too close to his head.


What the hell is going on with my life?


He let out a slow exhale and leaned back, staring blankly at the ceiling. The cheap plaster above him cracked slightly in the corner. He had fixed it once. A poor job. Like he was doing with everything else lately.


And then—


“You’re not seriously considering this idiocy, are you?”


Naruto jumped slightly, blinking.


Kurama’s deep growl rang from inside his head, louder than usual, filled with actual concern this time—not the snide jabs or bored rumbles Naruto had grown used to.


“Damn, you’re louder than usual.”


“I should be! You’re about to ruin your life. You want to tie your fate to an Uchiha? Haven’t they done enough damage?”


Naruto didn’t answer. He just rubbed his face, groaning.


“Listen,” Kurama continued, his tone surprisingly not sarcastic, “I get that you’re emotionally compromised, but there has to be another way to keep her alive. Marrying her isn’t the only route. Let’s think this through like shinobi for once.”


Naruto blinked. Kurama being rational? This was weird.


“You got something better then?” he muttered aloud, arms crossed, jaw set tight. “Cause I sure as hell don’t.”


“Plenty. For starters—fake her death. Use a transformation jutsu, a shadow clone, stage an execution. Fool the Union, let her disappear forever.”


Naruto hesitated, then shook his head.


“That was my first idea, remember? Tsunade said that was dumb. Everyone’s watching Konoha right now. The moment we announce she’s dead, someone’ll demand a body. DNA, chakra, something. You think I can trick Gaara? Hell, I can’t even lie to Shikamaru.”


Kurama growled again.


“Fine. New plan. Let her defect. Say she escaped custody. Make her a missing-nin again—”


“Nope,” Naruto cut him off. “They’ll send hunter-nin. From Kumo. From Kiri. She won’t last a week. Especially not with her chakra sealed and eyes blocked. And if they catch her? Execution. Or worse.”


Kurama clicked his metaphorical tongue.


“Alright, then what if you declare her your personal vassal? Use your status. You’re a hero. You’ve got influence. Say she’s your responsibility, like a parolee. No marriage required.”


Naruto sighed, rubbing his temples.


“They already shot that down too. Said it was too risky. I’d have to be with her constantly. Not just living with her—but responsible for her behavior, her every move, her every word. If she even sneezes the wrong way, they’ll use that as an excuse to overrule it. But if she’s my wife, then it’s different. They’d be forced to respect the bond. They can't just override a legal marriage between two Konoha shinobi.”


Kurama’s chakra rumbled low, angry.


“Marriage. What a stupid tradition. You humans cling to such outdated nonsense.”


“Yeah, well,” Naruto mumbled, dragging a hand down his face, “humans built the world we live in. I don’t get to ignore it, even if I saved it.”


Kurama fell quiet for a beat. Then he said, “Why not just… take her and run?”


Naruto raised an eyebrow. “That’s your great idea? Run? You want me to become a missing-nin?”


“Why not? You’ve survived worse. You can handle whatever the world throws at you.”


Naruto snorted bitterly. “Yeah. And destroy the peace I fought for? Let the Shinobi Union collapse just because I wanted to save one person?”


“One person,” Kurama echoed, softer now.


Another silence.


Then—


“...It’s not just ‘one person’ to you, is it?”


Naruto’s breath caught.


He didn’t answer.


Didn’t need to.


Kurama huffed, something like a sigh. “I’ve been in your head too long, idiot. I can feel it. That ache. That pull. You want to save her—not just because she’s your friend. You love her. You always have.”


Naruto flinched. “Shut up.”


“Don’t act like it’s shameful. I hate the Uchiha as a rule, but you…” He paused. “You’ve always been different around her. Even when she wanted to kill you. You’d die for her. Again. No hesitation.”


“I’m not in love with her,” Naruto muttered, a little too fast.


“You’re the world’s worst liar.”


He groaned and let himself fall backward on the futon, arm draped over his eyes.


“I’m not even sure what love is, alright?” he mumbled into the quiet. “All I know is—if they kill her, something inside me is gonna die too. I feel like I won’t be able to breathe right anymore.”


Kurama was silent again, but Naruto felt the fox’s chakra settle low in his chest. Not hostile. Not mocking. Just… present.


Then Kurama said, quieter than Naruto ever heard him speak:


“Then marry her.”


Naruto blinked. “What?”


“If all other roads lead to her death, and this one leads to her life… what are you still afraid of?”


Naruto’s throat tightened.


Kurama snorted. “It won’t be easy. You’re both damaged. You’re both stubborn. But if you really care about her… you’ll make it work. Don’t marry her because they told you to. Marry her because she’s the one person you’d break the world for. Even if she breaks your heart in the end.”


The room felt smaller suddenly. The words hit too hard. Naruto swallowed, fingers curling around the edge of his shirt.


“…You’re really soft sometimes, y’know that?”


“Tch. Don’t get used to it. Stupid monkey.”


Naruto closed his eyes. The thoughts wouldn’t stop swirling, but there was at least one thing he knew for sure now.


Whatever Sasuke decided tomorrow… it would decide everything.

Chapter Text

Acceptance

The door creaked open with a whisper of hesitation. Hinata peeked in, clutching the warm dinnerbox close to her chest. The scent of miso and grilled tofu drifted softly from within—comfort food, her best attempt.

The room was dim. Naruto sat on his futon, shoulders slouched, eyes blankly fixed on the ceiling, lips murmuring words she couldn’t quite make out. His tone was low, soft, but animated, as if arguing with someone.

"Maybe if I fake a transfer of jurisdiction... no, no one would believe that... Maybe if I—"

She froze.

Was he... talking to someone?

There was no one else in the room. Just him, the silence, and...

Kurama.

Hinata took a quiet step back, guilt immediately rising. Eavesdropping is wrong...

Her gaze landed on the lunchbox she had brought earlier. Still there. Still untouched. Cold.

Her chest tightened.

She cleared her throat gently.

Naruto flinched, blinking wildly as if yanked out of a dream. He sat up fast, then offered an awkward wave.

“H-Hey, Hinata. Sorry, I didn’t—uh—hear you come in.”

“I knocked... a few times.” Her voice was soft, concerned. “You didn’t... eat the lunch.”

“Oh—yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, guilt blooming across his face. “I just... I’ve been kind of... not okay today.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked, stepping forward. “I—I brought dinner too. I thought you might be hungry after training or reading...”

Naruto gave a faint smile, but it faded quickly. “Thanks, Hinata. Really. But I don’t think I can eat right now.”

Her hands tightened on the box.

“If... if there's anything I can do, even a little, please let me help,” she said gently. “You look like you’ve been carrying something heavy.”

He hesitated.

She stepped closer. “Naruto-kun?”

He exhaled, long and shaky, before nodding.

“You’re kind, Hinata. Too kind. Alright... I’ll tell you.”

She sat down, eyes wide with worry, clutching the lunchbox like an anchor.

Naruto spoke slowly, voice low but steady—like each word cost him more than it should.

“It’s about Sasuke.”

Hinata’s breath hitched. “Sasuke-san?”

“The Nations... they want her executed. Even after everything. After fighting Madara. Helping seal Kaguya. They still think she’s a threat.” He looked down at his hands. “And maybe she is. But I can’t let them kill her.”

Hinata blinked.

“Lord Hokage... Kakashi-sensei... he negotiated something. A condition. Something that’ll stop the Union from demanding her head.” He paused, like the words themselves refused to leave his throat.

Hinata tilted her head. “What... what condition?”

He finally looked her in the eyes.

“I have to marry her.”

Silence. Crushing silence.

Hinata stared. Frozen. The lunchbox slipped slightly in her hands, clutched tight enough to hurt.

Naruto marrying... Sasuke?

Her mouth opened, then closed. She tried to find words, but nothing came. Her heart was thudding so hard she could barely hear.

“I—I’m sorry,” Naruto stammered. “It’s not what it sounds like! I didn’t want this, not like this. It’s just to protect her, I swear, Hinata! I’m not trying to—”

And then, with a shimmer of golden chakra, Kurama’s head formed behind Naruto. Glowing eyes, sharp fangs, low and terrible voice.

“You’ve admired Naruto since childhood,” he said, the words cutting like wind through autumn leaves. “That admiration became obsession. Then love. But have you ever asked yourself if he loved you?”

“Kurama!” Naruto barked, horrified. “Shut up!”

“No,” the fox growled. “You shut up, Naruto. I’ve watched you two long enough. Listen, Hyūga—hate me all you want, but I’m telling the truth. Naruto has always loved the Uchiha girl. Even if he doesn’t say it. Even if he doesn’t understand it yet. It’s not just duty. It never was. And you? You deserve someone who loves you back. You should accept this. And move on.”

The head dissolved into golden mist.

Hinata stood, face pale, lips trembling. Her eyes shimmered. “Is... is that true?”

Naruto looked down. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Hinata didn’t wait for more. She turned, tears trailing silently down her cheeks as she ran out, the dinnerbox still clutched in her arms.

“Damn it, Kurama...” Naruto whispered, heart tight.

“You’ll thank me later.”

—T~T—

Naruto had never known time to drag like this.

The Hokage office, once a familiar place of scrolls and chatter, felt like a battlefield now. He paced in tight circles, glancing up at the portraits on the wall.

The First smiled warmly, eternally kind.

The Second looked stern, judgmental.

The Third, ever wise.

The Fourth... his father. Silent. Still.

Naruto stopped in front of him. “Dad... got any advice?”

The carved wood said nothing.

“Didn’t think so...”

The door clicked.

Kakashi stepped in, for once not fashionably late, his face unreadable behind the mask. He went to his desk, sat down, and immediately flicked two fingers.

An ANBU appeared like breath fog on glass—silent, masked, respectful.

“Escort Naruto to the dungeon,” Kakashi said simply.

Naruto blinked. “Wait—you’re not coming, sensei?”

“No.”

Naruto’s mouth opened, then closed. He sighed and followed.

The Hokage tower’s lowest floor was colder than he remembered. The ANBU walked ahead, his footsteps quiet but decisive. Naruto tried to lighten the mood, just a little.

“So uh... you’ve ever been married?”

Silence.

“No? Okay... uh... know any good conversation starters for criminal warlords?”

Nothing.

“Dude, come on, even Sai gives better company—”

The ANBU stopped. A gate loomed ahead. Thick iron bars. A flicker of chakra as seals lifted.

Inside, the cell was dim. Damp stone, silence... and her.

Tied like a silken cocoon, her entire body encased in a restraint seal wrap from neck to toe. Visors sealed her Rinnegan and Sharingan. She tilted her head at the sound of steps.

“...Naruto?”

He winced. She recognized me by my footsteps? “Hey, uh, Sasuke. Hope you had a nice sleep.”

No answer. Of course not.

“Uh... how’s the hand?” He raised his bandaged prosthetic awkwardly, flexing it.

“I’m still getting used to mine,” he added sheepishly. “How’s your arm—”

Idiot. Her arms were bound. She couldn’t even twitch.

He looked around the cell, desperate for something. “So, um... nice cell?” he offered weakly.

A long silence.

“...Stop fooling around.”

“Yeah, uh. Sorry. Y’know.” He rubbed his neck. “So. Uh. You know... what’s your answer? And hey—it’s fine if you disagree! Seriously. We’ll fake your execution, I have this crazy plan, smoke bombs, a clone decoy, I can hide you underground for years! I swear I can pull it off, just say the word—”

“...Naruto.”

“YES?!”

“After a lot of consideration,” she said slowly, “I have decided to...”

Of course. He braced for it. Decline it. Obviously. What was I thinking? I’m such an idiot, she’ll never—

“...accept Kakashi’s alternative.”

Naruto stared at her.

His jaw dropped.

“...what?!”

—T~T—

Naruto stood there, mouth open, limbs awkwardly stiff, the damp air of the cell clinging to him like guilt. His voice came out brittle, too quick.

“Sasuke… you don’t have to force this on yourself. I—I can figure something else out. I swear, I’ll keep you alive. I’ll take you to Ame—no one’s gonna look for you there. I can give you a new look—cut your hair, dye it, maybe even an eyepatch or something cool. No one’ll recognize you, y’know? You can live a quiet life… safe, far away from all this.”

Sasuke turned her head slightly, the visors still covering her eyes. But her voice was razor-clear.

“...Am I a burden to you, Naruto?”

“What? No! Of course not! You’re my best friend, y’know?!”

Her voice was low.

“Do you… hate me? For trying to kill you. For the war. For—”

“No!” he cut in before she could spiral further. “Never! I—I understand why you did what you did. Doesn’t mean I agreed, but hate? No way. I forgave you a long time ago.”

“Then,” she said softly, “I accept the marriage alternative.”

Naruto nearly tripped over his own thoughts. “Wait—hold on—you don’t have to be that hasty, okay? I—I mean, I’ll make sure you live without marrying me too, we don’t have to jump to that, I can fake your death with a shadow clone, I’ve done it before, we can—”

“I calmly made this decision,” she said, her voice composed but carrying a faint, tired weight. “But if you don’t want to marry me, that’s fine. I’ll go along with your escape plan, then.”

He froze.

Why did her voice sound so… bitter saying that?

His throat bobbed. He scratched the back of his head, heart pounding against his ribs like a prisoner begging to be let out. “A-Are you sure, Sasuke? I mean… we’re just seventeen, and—”

“I’m eighteen,” she said bluntly.

Naruto blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You’re two months younger than me,” she continued calmly. “And yes. I’m sure.”

He rubbed his temples.

Kyuubi chuckled dryly inside him. Congratulations, Naruto. You just proposed to the Uchiha.

I didn’t propose—!

You paced, fumbled, and panicked. And still managed to get a yes. You're hopeless. But at least she’s into hopeless.

Naruto groaned. “This is really happening, huh?”

Sasuke, her voice cool as ever, just said, “Apparently.”

—T~T—

Steam rose in lazy swirls from the ramen bowl as Naruto slurped half-heartedly, noodles slipping from his chopsticks and falling back with a wet plop. He stared into the broth like it might tell him what the hell to do with his life.

Ayame finally leaned over the counter, wiping her hands on her apron. “Naruto, are you okay? You’re eating ramen like it’s sake. That’s not how you eat ramen.”

Teuchi grunted behind the stove. “You’ve been muttering to yourself for twenty minutes. What happened? Some mission trouble?”

Naruto let out a long, suffering sigh, chin nearly sinking into his bowl. “...I’m getting married.”

Both Ayame and Teuchi froze.

The sound of the ladle slipping from Teuchi’s hand echoed like a shuriken striking wood.

Ayame blinked. “...Come again?”

“I said I’m getting married.” Naruto repeated, his tone halfway between disbelief and despair.

“Now?!” Ayame slammed her hands on the counter. “You’re seventeen!”

Teuchi narrowed his eyes. “Did you… knock a girl up, Naruto?”

Naruto choked on his broth. “What?!”

Ayame was suddenly in his face, grabbing him by the collar. “Who is it?! Who’s the poor girl? Who’s the mother?!”

“What are you talking about?!” Naruto yelped, squirming. “What does ‘knocking up’ even mean?!”

“It means you impregnated someone!” Ayame said, cheeks red with fury.

Naruto froze. The world froze. Even the noodles stopped steaming for a moment.

“WHAT?!” he shouted, wrenching himself back. “I’m a virgin! And it’s not like that at all!”

Teuchi raised an eyebrow. “Then what the hell kind of marriage is this?”

Naruto groaned and buried his face in his hands. “It’s just that… Sasuke was gonna get executed. And to save her… I have to marry her.”

Ayame blinked. “...Sasuke? As in Uchiha Sasuke?”

Naruto nodded solemnly.

Teuchi whistled. “You always did have strange taste in friends.”

“It’s not like that!” Naruto yelped. “We’re not even together! This is just political ninja bullcrap! They think if I marry her, she’ll be ‘tied’ to the Leaf and won’t be a threat. It’s all strategy.”

Ayame crossed her arms. “And you just agreed?”

“I had no choice! It was either that or let her die. I couldn’t just… let them kill her.”

Teuchi gave a thoughtful grunt. “Hmph. You’re doing it for her sake, then. To protect her.”

Naruto nodded, face serious now.

Ayame narrowed her eyes. “But are you ready for that kind of responsibility? Marriage ain’t just a legal jutsu. It’s a lifelong mission.”

Naruto’s eyes widened. “I—I don’t know. I just didn’t want her to die, y’know?”

A pause. Teuchi ladled another bowl and slid it in front of Naruto. “Then eat. Eat until you find your answer. Because you can’t protect anyone if you’re running on empty.”

Naruto stared at the ramen. Then, slowly, he picked up his chopsticks.

“I just hope… she doesn’t regret saying yes.”

Ayame leaned forward again, this time gentler. “Then make sure she never does.”

—T~T—

The iron cell door creaked open. Dim light from the hallway spilled onto the stone floor as Ino stepped in first, her expression unreadable. Behind her came Sai, face calm but eyes alert, and three ANBU, masked and silent, a tension in the air like drawn wire.

"Time to get you out of the sack," Ino muttered, kneeling beside Sasuke and placing her fingers in a seal. One by one, the restrictive jutsu seals burned away into soft blue light. Chains clinked to the floor with a final thud.

Sasuke didn’t say a word. She flexed her wrists slowly, testing muscle, bone, ligament—everything stiff but intact. Her arms arched back with a few satisfying cracks of joints being reminded they exist. She rolled her neck. More cracks. She stood, her legs unsteady only for a moment.

Sai offered a brittle smile. “Don't try anything funny. We have orders to restrain you.”

Sasuke didn’t even glance at him. She straightened her back, reasserting poise, her silence sharper than any kunai.

Ino made the seal for Mind Body Switch, then nodded a moment later. “She's clean. No mental traps or chakra booby traps.” Then she pulled out fresh clothes—dark navy pants and a simple grey blouse. “Put these on. You’re getting an upgrade.”

“Where are you taking me?” Sasuke asked as she changed, unbothered by their presence.

“You'll be held in the Hokage’s guest room. Under surveillance. A few days for evaluation, then…” Ino hesitated, “your new life begins.”

Sasuke nodded silently.

Once fully dressed, Sasuke followed them out. The dungeon hallway was cold stone and silence. But once they reached the tower’s upper levels, sunlight poured across the marble like a forgotten blessing. Sasuke squinted slightly, the brightness nearly stinging.

Even still—four ANBU surrounded her, two flanking behind, two ahead.

Ino walked beside her, arms crossed. “You know, I never thought the girl we all admired would end up marrying the class clown.”

Sasuke’s eye twitched. She didn’t turn her head.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Ino teased. “Just saying—Naruto’s fan club is gonna be pissed. I can already picture some of them trying jutsu-fueled black magic to curse you for stealing their golden boy.”

Sasuke's fingers twitched subtly. A faint flare of chakra prickled behind her eyes. He has fan girls now?

Ino smirked, sensing the ripple. “Oh yeah. Fan club, merchandise, a weird gossip scroll called Uzumaki Weekly... War hero, remember? He’s practically the Leaf’s golden flame.”

Sasuke’s lips were neutral, her expression unmoved, but her gaze narrowed ever so slightly. Fan club? Of course he’d have one. Idiot.

They reached the guest quarters—a modest but elegant room with a tatami floor, a low table, and a futon already laid out. Ino led her in and gestured vaguely.

“You’re not allowed to leave the room without escort. You’ll be watched at all times. Don’t try to suppress your chakra—you’ll trigger a response seal. No summoning animals, no seals, no scrolls. No escape.”

Sasuke scanned the room. A moment later, her Sharingan flickered to life—just briefly. Six chakra signatures, all female ANBU. Hidden poorly. Probably intentional.

Ino stepped back. “Try not to kill your wedding guard detail, okay?”

Sasuke igno her. She walked calmly to the low table, picked up the Konoha Daily, and unfolded the front page.

There it was. A smiling Naruto, giving a peace sign beside Kakashi. The headline?

"Peace Hero Naruto Uzumaki Soon to Wed!"

She stared at it in silence, then turned the page. Sat down. Crossed one leg over the other.

And began to read.

Chapter Text

My Heart's A Stereo

The Academy was a storm.

Naruto had barely stepped into the courtyard when the kids swarmed him like bees on honey. Especially the girls. Mini tornadoes of curiosity, excitement, and chaos.

"Naruto-sensei!"

"Is it true you're getting married?!"

"Who is she?!"

"Is she pretty?!"

"Did you knock a girl up?!"

"Is she older than you?!"

"Was it Sakura?! Or maybe Ino?!"

Naruto's eye twitched. "W-What does knocking up even—? No! I didn't knock anyone up!"

More questions. Screams. Blushing. Laughter. A feral game of guess-the-bride broke out.

"Clone Jutsu!" Poof!

One unfortunate shadow clone was left to manage the chaos, doing crowd control with a forced smile and barely concealed panic. Naruto made his escape into the building.

He weaved through the halls, stopping at a familiar door.

Iruka's office.

Inside, the older man sat stiffly, eyes glued to the front page of Konoha Daily. That damn headline again. "Peace Hero Naruto Uzumaki Soon to Wed!"

Iruka's brow was furrowed deep enough to crack stone. As Naruto stepped in, Iruka stood abruptly.

"Naruto! What is the meaning of this? Why are you getting married?! Who is she?! Why so soon?! Did you knock a girl up?! Is she older than you?! Is it Sakura?! Ino?! Someone from your peers? Or someone else entirely?!"

"Sensei—please!" Naruto flailed his arms, red in the face. "Calm down!"

Iruka's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

Naruto scratched the back of his neck. "It's Sasuke."

A pause. Dead silence.

Iruka blinked. "...You knocked the Sasuke Uchiha up?!"

"Gah—No! Would everyone stop saying that?! I didn't do anything! It's just—she's being targeted for execution. The Nations are paranoid. But Kakashi-sensei got them to agree to spare her if she gives up her Shinobi status and… becomes a civilian wife. So, uh… they picked me."

Iruka stared, lips parted slightly. "That's..."

"I had a plan, y'know! Disguise, fake death, smuggle her out to Ame. But she—she accepted the damn proposal."

Iruka sank back down into his chair. "That's... heavy, Naruto. And how is she taking it?"

Naruto shrugged helplessly. "Calm. Cold. Like usual. I can't even tell what she's really thinking…"

There was a long beat of silence, filled only by the distant laughter of kids through the windows.

"Anyway," Naruto muttered, rubbing his arm, "the wedding's tomorrow and, uh… I was wondering if you'd be my dad figure? You know... for the ritual part."

Iruka stared.

Then his throat moved as he swallowed hard. His hands clenched on the desk. And finally, his voice broke as he said, softly—

"Yes."

—T~T—

Sasuke sat quietly, back straight, legs folded beneath her, the silence of the guest room a strange thing—so different from the hush of a battlefield, or the quiet of mourning. This silence was gentle, too gentle. It gave her thoughts the space to wander.

Her mind drifted to the faint scent of camellias and steaming rice. A memory. Her mother, Mikoto, combing her hair when she was just a child—tiny, stubborn, and fierce even then.

"Tell me the story again," little Sasuke would say.

Mikoto would chuckle, brushing gently through tangled locks. "The one about the prince?"

"Yeah. The one who comes riding on a white fox. The one who saves the princess and they live happily ever after."

"You want to be the princess?"

"No way." Her younger self had huffed, arms crossed. "Princesses just sit there. I wanna be the one with the sword!"

"Then maybe you'll save the prince someday."

"Okay! Then I'll save Big Brother!"

"You can't marry your own brother," Mikoto had said gently, laughter in her voice.

"Why not? Big Brother is like a prince! And he lets me ride on his shoulders!"

"Maybe someday you'll find someone like him."

"Pfft, no way! He's the best! No one's like Nii-san."

Mikoto had smiled then. Soft. Wise. As if she knew something even time hadn't dared to whisper yet.

But now, sitting here years and scars later, Sasuke couldn't help but smirk bitterly. If only that little girl knew.

That her future wasn't a grand palace or a battlefield of honor—but this. A guest room turned holding cell. Surveillance in the walls. A marriage out of diplomacy. A husband-to-be who once shoved noodles up his nose when dared. The kid who used to yell about ramen and Hokageship in the same breath. The boy who, in winter, always had a runny nose and in summer, never bothered to wash his face.

Naruto Uzumaki.

Her fiancé.

Life didn't make sense. And perhaps it never would. But even so...

She had accepted the proposal—for him.

Because she didn't care about execution. She'd made her peace. She had lived in vengeance, bathed in blood and regret. She had tried to kill the very hands that had reached out for her. She had broken more than bones—she had broken trust, faith, hearts.

But he... Naruto. He never let go.

And she knew—she knew—if she died, a part of him would too. Not his body. His spirit.

So, yes, maybe it was selfish. Maybe she didn't deserve him. But if saving herself would keep him whole… then she would do it. For him. Just for him.

The door creaked open.

Sasuke turned sharply, muscles tense—until she saw the ANBU enter. A slender figure, face hidden behind a feline mask. Silently, the ANBU wheeled in a tall frame draped in a long cloth.

"What's that?" Sasuke asked, voice flat.

The ANBU said nothing, merely stepped aside.

Sasuke rose, brows furrowing as she gripped the veil and pulled it aside.

Her breath caught.

It was white. Pure white silk, aged by time yet lovingly preserved. Embroidered cranes across the hem. A sash the color of plum wine. The scent—faint but unmistakable—of camellia and sandalwood.

It was her mother's wedding kimono.

"…Why?" she asked quietly, more to herself.

The ANBU finally spoke. "Uzumaki-san insisted."

Sasuke turned slowly.

"Lord Hokage personally fetched it from the Uchiha clan vault," the ANBU added, before vanishing like mist.

Sasuke stared at the fabric for a long, long time.

Then, wordlessly, she reached out, brushing her fingers over it—ghosts of memory dancing in every thread. A child's dream. A mother's smile. A brother's shadow.

And now—Naruto. That loud, foolish, golden idiot.

She exhaled.

"…Tch. Baka."

—T~T—

Naruto tossed and turned in his futon, eyes wide open in the dark, heart drumming like war drums before battle. The stars outside blinked above Konoha, silent witnesses to a boy who never dreamed his life would turn like this. Marriage. Tomorrow.

Too fast.

Too unreal.

He'd sent out letters—invites scrawled with urgency and chicken-scratch handwriting—to those who mattered. Konohamaru. Shikamaru. Gaara. Even Killer Bee. But they were scattered, some at borders, others in missions. It was too soon. It was too much.

His eyes burned. He closed them.

Eventually, the wave of exhaustion dragged him down.

He opened his eyes.

And found himself in a sun-dappled room that smelled like old paper and warm miso. Two figures sat before him.

His breath caught.

"Mom? Dad?"

"Naruto," Minato said, smiling, arms open.

"Y-you guys—!" Naruto launched himself forward, hugging them both in one huge, trembling squeeze. He hadn't realized how much he needed this until now.

Minato chuckled, brushing Naruto's hair. "I never thought my son would lose his bachelor status before he turned into a proper adult."

"Oh, Minato!" Kushina wailed, crying loudly into her husband's haori. "He's marrying Mikoto's little girl! Our families are finally connected! Oh, I'm so happy, I could punch the moon!"

Naruto pulled back, blinking. "Wait, you know about that? You're okay with it?"

"Okay?" Kushina sniffed, "Sasuke's perfect! A little rough, but strong, loyal, intense—just like me! You chose well, sweetie."

"I think she's forcing herself," Naruto muttered, shoulders slumping. "She doesn't care about dying. I think she just doesn't want me to hurt."

Minato's eyes softened. "Maybe. But that only proves she cares. She's not the kind to bend for anything… unless it matters."

Kushina wiped her nose again—onto Minato's other sleeve. "And it's so obvious she likes you. She's just emotionally constipated, that's all."

"Yeah," Minato added with a grin. "Besides, no one else is worthy of her."

Naruto blinked. "Huh?"

"You gave blood for her," Minato said. "You chased her through hell and back. You never gave up on her. You already married your soul to hers years ago."

"I guess…" Naruto looked down, unsure.

Minato gently took his shoulder. "Listen. A few things. When she's angry, let her win the argument. When she's quiet, just sit with her. When she's tired, cook for her—or at least try. And when she looks away… that's when she needs you most."

The door suddenly burst open with a blast of smoke and drama.

"Hahahaha! Did someone say marriage?!"

Naruto's jaw dropped. "PERVY SAGE?!"

"Your one and only godfather has arrived!" Jiraiya swept into the room, striking a ridiculous pose. Naruto jumped up and tackled him into a hug.

"I wish this was real," Naruto whispered, voice catching.

Jiraiya grinned, tapping his forehead. "It is real… in here."

He handed Naruto a tattered, shiny-covered book. Icha Icha Nuptial Night.

"This'll guide you through the honeymoon."

"JIRAIYA!" Kushina roared, snatching the book and hurling it into a dream bonfire that exploded in pink flames. "YOU PERVERTED TOAD!"

Minato was silently trying not to laugh.

Kushina then grabbed Naruto's cheeks and smooshed his face. "You listen here, buster. You treat that girl right. With respect, with patience, with ramen."

"Ramen?"

"I want five grandkids at least—and name them after ramen, y'know?! Shoyu, Miso, Tonkotsu, Chashu—"

"MOM!"

They all laughed.

The room started fading. Naruto looked around, eyes wide.

"No, wait—don't go—!"

One by one, they hugged him. Jiraiya ruffled his hair. Kushina kissed his forehead. Minato gripped his shoulders.

And then—

Sunlight.

Real and bright, streaming into the real world.

Naruto sat up, breathing hard, hand reaching for air.

But a smile crept onto his face.

Today... was the day.

—T~T—

Sasuke lay in the wide guest bed, staring at the ceiling above her. The shadows in the corners of the room felt too quiet, too still. The bed was soft—too soft—and the silk sheets whispered every time she shifted. But her mind was louder.

Tomorrow, she'd be married.

She had fought wars. Faced down the Five Kage. Betrayed nations and walked through fire. But this—the stillness before something she couldn't fight—unsettled her in a way even Madara never could.

The chakra threads of the ANBU were still humming faintly above the walls. Watching her, always watching. But even that didn't matter.

Her mind refused rest.

So, she turned to an old technique—one she hadn't used since she was a child, when the screams in her head wouldn't let her sleep. She weaved her fingers through seals and gently cast a genjutsu—this one soft and dreamlike—on herself.

And then, the world shifted.

She opened her eyes.

Wooden walls. Faint scent of tatami mats. A paper lantern glowing dim in the corner.

Her breath caught.

She knew this house.

The air buzzed with the sound of summer cicadas. The faint smell of stew wafted from the kitchen.

Her home.

Not the one rebuilt from ashes.

But the one that lived before the massacre.

Sasuke stood, barefoot, walking toward the sliding door she remembered by heart. She pushed it open—

And there they were.

Itachi sat with their mother, Mikoto, gently slicing peaches and smiling like the weight of the world had never rested on his shoulders. Fugaku sat stiff and proud, his arms crossed, but not unkind. His eyes softened when he saw her.

For a moment, she stood frozen in the doorway.

Then Mikoto rose, eyes misting. "Sasuke?"

"Mom…"

Mikoto crossed the room in a heartbeat and wrapped her arms around her daughter. "My little girl…"

Itachi was next, pulling her close, his hand on her head the way he used to when she'd scrape her knees. "Sasuke. You've grown so much."

Her throat tightened, but the tears wouldn't fall yet. She was afraid that if she blinked, they would disappear.

And then Fugaku rose. He looked at her long and hard. There was silence between them—thick and uncertain. Then, with a small exhale, he stepped forward and drew her into a strong embrace.

"You've returned," he said simply.

"I… is this real?" Sasuke whispered. "Is this a genjutsu? A dream? You're all… gone."

Itachi shook his head gently. "Even if we're gone from the world, we're always with you."

"You carry us in every step," Mikoto whispered, brushing Sasuke's bangs back like she was five again. "You are not alone, not ever."

Sasuke dropped to her knees, bowing her head until it touched the floor. "Forgive me," she choked. "I made mistakes. So many. I lost myself. I—I almost destroyed the world you died for—"

Fugaku's voice stopped her. "You lived. That is enough."

"You stumbled," Mikoto said. "But you rose again. You made hard choices, my dear."

Itachi knelt beside her, his voice soft. "And when you had no one, you stood anyway. That is strength."

Sasuke lifted her head, eyes wet. "I don't deserve to be forgiven."

"But we forgive you anyway," Mikoto said, cupping her face. "Because you are ours. Because you endured."

Fugaku cleared his throat. "Now that the tears are over," he said gruffly, "let us address the elephant in the room."

Sasuke blinked. "What?"

"Marriage," Fugaku said. "To Naruto Uzumaki. How utterly nauseating."

"Dear…" Mikoto murmured, jabbing him with an elbow.

"I stand by my words," Fugaku said. "That boy has no manners. No lineage. And he eats ramen like a wild dog."

"Dad—!"

Fugaku raised a hand, silencing her. "But… I have observed him. And while he is loud, foolish, and often acts without thought… he has earned my reluctant respect."

Mikoto smiled softly. "He loves you, Sasuke."

Sasuke turned away slightly, ears pink. "He doesn't—"

"He does," Itachi cut in gently. "He chased you across nations. He bled for you. He never stopped believing in you, even when you didn't believe in yourself."

"That's more than love," Mikoto said. "That's devotion."

Fugaku folded his arms again. "That doesn't mean I approve entirely. However… I accept it. If he treats you poorly, I will haunt him personally."

"Dad…"

"One condition," Fugaku added, raising a brow. "The children. Ensure they carry the Uchiha name—especially the ones who awaken the Sharingan."

Sasuke coughed. "Children—?"

"I'm not imposing," he said firmly. "But revival of the clan rests on your shoulders. You are the last. I expect five grandchildren."

"Five?" Sasuke's voice rose an octave.

"At least," Mikoto added sweetly.

"Please don't encourage this," Sasuke muttered.

"I think you'll be a wonderful mother," Mikoto said. "Just… maybe don't teach them Chidori as toddlers."

Itachi chuckled softly. "And don't let them bite people, like you did with that civilian boy when you were six."

Sasuke groaned. "You remember that?"

"I remember everything," Itachi smirked.

"You were always wild," Mikoto said with a fond smile. "Strong-willed. And so, so stubborn. You've never needed anyone. But I'm glad you found someone you can lean on."

"I still don't think I deserve it," Sasuke admitted.

"You don't have to deserve love to receive it," Itachi said gently. "Sometimes, you just have to accept it."

"Let yourself be loved," Mikoto whispered. "Let yourself live."

They pulled her into one last embrace, warm and strong and everything she thought she had lost. For a heartbeat, she wanted to stay. She wanted to forget the world and sleep in this moment forever.

But the light behind them began to shift.

Itachi stepped back.

Mikoto kissed her forehead.

Fugaku gave a final nod. "Make us proud."

And then—

Sasuke's eyes opened.

Morning light pooled through the window.

The veil over the kimono still hung by the corner, catching the golden glow.

Her body felt heavy, but her heart—

Her heart was steady.

—T~T—

The apartment was loud before Naruto had even stepped out of the shower.

"Oi, Kiba, don't knock down his ramen stash!" came Choji's voice, half-laughing, half-panicked.

"Man, how does one guy even eat this much? I swear this is a fire hazard," Kiba muttered, pulling aside a stack of instant ramen cups.

"Ramen has spiritual value for Naruto," Shino said, arms crossed, standing stiffly near the doorway like a guardian bug.

Lee was already in the middle of setting up the drinks—glasses of Jojo-brand soft drinks, the carbonated kind that popped in your mouth with bubbles that changed flavors. Naruto didn't drink alcohol, and they respected that. Sort of. Kiba had tried to sneak in a little sake, but Shino had confiscated it.

"To Naruto's youth!" Lee cried, lifting his glass. "May this new chapter be full of passion, growth, and eternal love!"

"To youth!" Kiba echoed, clinking his glass.

"To BBQ," Choji mumbled, following suit with a nod.

The bathroom door opened with a hiss of steam. Naruto stepped out, hair damp, towel slung over his neck. He was shirtless, still drying his arms when he saw the gathering.

"Huh?" he blinked. "What the hell—what time is it?"

"It's still early," Kiba said, grinning. "But it's your wedding day. You didn't think we'd just let you stumble into it without a send-off, did you?"

"I thought you guys would show up at the ceremony, not… like this." Naruto rubbed the back of his neck, half embarrassed, half touched. "Thanks, though."

"You better sit down, man," Kiba said, tossing him a glass. "Got some world-class tips for you."

Naruto caught it, confused. "Tips?"

"Wedding night stuff," Kiba said with a wolfish grin. "Listen—first of all, you gotta look cool when you open the door to your shared room. Walk in like a lion. Don't trip over the futon like I did that one time at the bathhouse."

"You've never been on a date, Kiba," Shino stated flatly.

"I've been on a few almost-dates, okay? Shut up."

Lee was nodding too enthusiastically. "It is important to maintain perfect breath control! During moments of heightened romantic tension, focus on your chakra flow through the lungs!"

Naruto blinked. "What does that even mean?"

"Just… focus on breathing. In through the nose, out through the passion," Lee said, very seriously.

"I'm not sure that's helpful," Naruto muttered, sipping his soda.

Shino stepped forward and handed him a small scroll. "My clan prepared this for you. It contains a traditional wedding blessing from our elders. Also, I added a few beetle oils for calming anxiety. Use sparingly."

"Uh, thanks, Shino."

Choji leaned over and handed him a neatly folded paper. "Here. A free one-month coupon for unlimited Akimichi BBQ. Only valid with you and your wife."

Naruto's eyes widened. "Whoa. You serious?"

Choji nodded. "Weddings are a big deal. Thought you'd need it."

"Man, thanks." Naruto held the coupon like it was sacred scripture. "Sasuke might not like BBQ, though."

"She doesn't have to eat, just bring her with you. The deal only applies to couples."

Before anyone could make another toast, the door opened again—this time to a sharp knock and the sound of a sigh.

Shikamaru stood at the threshold, carrying a bag in one hand and looking like he hadn't slept. "Alright. This is a drag, but the Hokage told me to deliver this."

"Hey, Shikamaru!" Naruto greeted him with a big grin. "Come to crash the party?"

"More like get you dressed before you show up in your pajamas."

He handed over the bag with a grunt. Naruto opened it and pulled out a neatly folded traditional wedding outfit.

The black outer yukata was made from fine silken fabric, detailed with gold thread that shimmered subtly in the light. The sleeves were slightly wide, the hems embroidered with cloud patterns. Beneath it was a white underlayer, stiff and formal. The sash was deep crimson, symbolizing vitality and strength, tied with a golden thread, meant to bring luck in marriage.

A pair of white tabi socks and lacquered zōri sandals completed the outfit, along with a formal hakama skirt of black and gray vertical stripes.

"Whoa," Naruto said, blinking. "This is… this is fancy."

"It's traditional," Shikamaru said. "The same style the old clans used. The Uzumaki clan crest is sewn into the inside lining."

Everyone went quiet for a moment.

Naruto held the fabric tighter.

"…Thanks."

"No thanks needed. Let's just get this over with," Shikamaru muttered, stepping in and rolling up his sleeves. "Kiba, Choji—don't just stand around like scarecrows. Help me get him dressed."

The next half hour was chaos. Kiba kept messing up the folds. Choji was trying not to wrinkle the hakama. Lee was shouting motivational quotes while trying to tie the sash with "extra passion." Shino eventually had to step in and adjust everything with quiet precision.

Naruto stood in the middle of the room, arms out like a training dummy, his expression somewhere between amused and panicked.

"This is tighter than I thought," he muttered as Shikamaru adjusted the collar.

"You'll get used to it. Ceremony's only a few hours. After that, you can change."

Naruto looked down at himself once they were done.

He almost didn't recognize the guy in the mirror.

Clean lines. Poised shoulders. No bandages. No dirt on his cheeks. No orange anywhere. Just black, red, gold—and a new beginning.

"…Whoa," he muttered. "I look like… someone else."

"You look like a man," Shino said simply.

"You look like someone who's about to start a family," Choji added with a grin.

"You look like a dashing hero from a love drama!" Lee cried, tears shining in his eyes. "A true romantic warrior!"

"You look like an idiot who's about to pass out if he doesn't stop fidgeting," Shikamaru added.

Naruto laughed, finally relaxing. "Thanks, guys. Really."

He looked around—at the faces that had stood beside him through childhood, battle, heartbreak, and victory.

This was his family. Even if they bickered. Even if they were weird.

"Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Let's go."

Kiba slung an arm over his shoulder. "Ready to be the first one of us to tie the knot?"

Naruto grinned. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Outside, the sun was rising over the village, warm and bright.

And Naruto Uzumaki was walking into it—not as a boy chasing a dream, but as a man stepping into something real.

Chapter Text

The Day We Married

Naruto didn't expect this many people. No, not even close.

He had expected a crowd, sure. Some villagers, maybe his friends, a few shinobi from other nations… but this? This was overwhelming.

The entire village of Konoha had turned up. The crowd overflowed beyond the wedding grounds, spilling into nearby rooftops and trees. Kids sat on shoulders, old people clutched their canes and craned their necks for a better view. Lanterns floated above, swaying gently in the summer breeze. Flags fluttered with the Uzumaki swirl and Uchiha fan, entwined in a rare symbol of unity.

Even people from distant lands had come—travelers, dignitaries, merchants, even ex-nin who had once fought in the war.

Naruto stood near the altar, heart pounding beneath his black ceremonial yukata. It was hot under all those layers. Not just heat. Nerves. That bone-deep, stomach-churning kind of nervousness that even war hadn't stirred in him.

"I-It's just a wedding," he whispered to himself. "My wedding."

Konohamaru was zooming around with a big camcorder, documenting everything like a man on a mission. "Smile, Boss!" he yelled while filming Naruto's back, then darted away before Naruto could turn around and scold him.

Fangirls tried to swarm him, screaming his name, crying about broken hearts, shouting things like:

"Why her?! Why not me?!"

"Uzumaki-kun, you've ruined my life!"

"Is she prettier than me?!"

Security had to cordon off the section just to keep them from mobbing him. Poor Shino and a few ANBU were stuck keeping them away. Naruto could only sweat and chuckle nervously.

He wasn't used to being popular.

Nobles lined up in elegant rows, each with a gift box wrapped in brocade silk, each eager to shake his hand or bow stiffly with reverence. Naruto had to bow back so many times, his back was starting to cramp. Even the Fire Daimyō's own son—future ruler of the Land of Fire—stepped forward to offer his congratulations with a formal smile.

"Your courage has not only saved the world but inspired nobility to see shinobi in a new light," he said. "It is an honor to witness your union."

Naruto bowed so low his nose nearly touched the floor. "Thanks a lot, Your Highness."

But it was when he saw Gaara that Naruto's heart leapt.

The Kazekage walked through the crowd with his usual silent grace, his red hair catching the sun like flame. Temari followed behind him, fan folded under her arm, and Kankurō trailed after, already looking annoyed with the ceremonial robes he was forced to wear.

"Gaara!" Naruto called, eyes lighting up.

Gaara gave him a faint smile. "I couldn't miss this."

"I didn't think you'd come all the way from Suna!"

"This is a historic event," Gaara said. "And you are… my first friend. I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Naruto grinned, and they clasped forearms in a silent brotherhood that went deeper than words.

From the Raikage's side, Darui and Samui had come. Darui gave a nod and a lazy salute.

Samui… avoided Naruto's gaze entirely.

Probably because the last time they met, she had coldly backhanded him when he'd sobbed at her feet, begging for Sasuke's pardon.

Naruto gave her an awkward smile. She looked away, stiff as a kunai.

The most surprising arrival, though, was none other than the Mizukage—Mei Terumī herself.

Draped in an exquisite aquamarine kimono, she glided through the crowd with her usual blend of elegance and veiled menace. Behind her trailed her loyal blue-haired swordsman—Chōjūrō or Chōsarō or… something—still visibly nervous as he eyed every corner.

"You clean up well, Naruto-kun," Mei said with a wink, her glossy lips curving into a smile. "If I had known you'd grow up into such a fine man, I might have kidnapped you to Mist."

Naruto coughed, face turning beet red. "Uh, thank you… but I think I'm good here."

She laughed, that soft, dangerous laugh that made even Jonin sweat.

But that wasn't the end of it.

Kurotsuchi, the future Tsuchikage, arrived in a bold red robe and promptly smacked Naruto on the back hard enough to make him stumble.

"Damn," she said with a grin. "Didn't think the class clown would land someone like her. Gotta say, I'm a little jealous."

"Don't flirt with the groom," Shikamaru muttered from behind, adjusting Naruto's collar for the umpteenth time.

Kurotsuchi winked at Naruto anyway. "If she ever dumps you, you know where I'm at."

"I-I'm good," Naruto stammered.

She winked again, then walked off laughing.

The sun was rising high now, warm golden beams slicing through the trees, catching on silk banners and ornaments. Music started—a slow, traditional melody played on koto and shakuhachi—and the crowd grew quiet, almost reverent.

Naruto's hands were clammy.

He wasn't afraid.

He'd been through pain, blood, loss, and war. He wasn't scared of life or death.

But he was nervous. About her.

Would she change her mind?

Would she hate this?

Would she resent him?

Then, the stair gates at the far end of the courtyard slowly began to part.

The crowd hushed. People moved aside. Heads turned.

A clear path opened up through the gathered masses.

And then, stepping into the golden light, surrounded by kunoichi escorts, was—

Sasuke Uchiha.

For a moment, Naruto forgot to breathe.

She looked ethereal.

The white wedding kimono flowed around her like clouds draped in moonlight. Layers of hand-woven silk shimmered subtly with a pearlescent sheen, tied together with an obi of indigo and soft silver. The sleeves brushed the ground, each movement of her walk a gentle wave of restrained grace. Her slender frame was accentuated not by tightness but by poise—every step dignified, regal, almost unreal.

Her hair, usually short and wind-roughened from missions, was longer now—let down and lightly curled at the ends, cascading over her shoulders like night spilling over snow. One side was neatly pinned with a small crystal hair ornament in the shape of the Uchiha fan. Soft bangs framed her face, but the left side had been grown longer—falling carefully over her left eye, hiding the Rinnegan from view.

That, Naruto realized, had probably been her decision.

To show she wasn't a shinobi today.

Just… a bride.

The red eyeliner around her eyes made her gaze sharper, more striking. Her lips were tinted pale pink, just enough to contrast her porcelain skin. She wore no excessive jewelry, no extravagant crown.

She didn't need it.

She carried herself like a queen walking through a battlefield of awe.

And though her face was calm—emotionless even—Naruto saw it.

A faint twitch of her fingers at her side. The tiny rise of her chest from a breath she hadn't meant to take.

She was nervous too.

She didn't smile. She didn't wave. She didn't look at the crowd.

Her eyes were locked on one thing only.

Him.

Naruto's breath hitched. His heart beat louder than the koto in the background. Every word of advice, every foolish tip from Kiba or Lee, every line of ceremony he'd rehearsed with Shikamaru evaporated from his head.

There was no war.

No Hokage duty.

No weight of the world.

Just her. Sasuke.

And she was walking to him.

—T~T—

The music softened to a warm, ceremonial tune as Sasuke walked gracefully through the stone path of flower petals. ANBU silently stepped aside to allow her through. Her every footstep was measured, composed, regal. And though her face betrayed no emotion, inside her chest, her heart was beating hard enough to break ribs.

Naruto stood at the altar, trying not to fidget like an idiot. When she drew close enough, Kurenai and Ino—her bridesmaids in formal wear—gently gestured her up the small steps to the main stage.

She moved forward, face still blank as paper. But her fingers were slightly trembling, and Naruto caught that detail in one fast glance. So he wasn't the only one feeling like a bomb was going off inside his chest.

From the other end, Teuchi—dressed neatly in a pressed brown haori—and Iruka, clad in formal jonin dress robes, took Naruto by the shoulders and began walking him up the stage too.

"You're doing fine," Iruka whispered with a proud smile, hand warm and steady on his shoulder. "Breathe slow. And stand tall."

"Make sure you don't faint, kid," Teuchi said with a quiet grin. "I've got your ramen when this is over."

Naruto gave a tight, shaky laugh. "Thanks…"

And then he was there. On the stage. Beside her.

Sasuke stood like carved ice, poised, unshakable. Naruto, in his black wedding yukata with golden-red linings representing the Uzumaki crest, fidgeted with the edges of his sleeves.

He looked at her. She was so close. Closer than he had imagined in his worst or best dreams.

"Uh…" Naruto cleared his throat and whispered, "You look… cool."

Cool? Cool?

He wanted to punch himself.

Sasuke didn't look at him. Her eyes stared ahead at the crowd. Her voice, when it came, was low.

"You told Kakashi for this kimono?"

Naruto blinked, then rubbed his neck, sheepish. "Uh… yeah… I'm sorry, I may have overstepped. It's just… I remembered you once said it belonged to your mom, and I thought—"

"Thanks."

"…Wait. What?"

Still, she didn't turn to look at him. But he caught the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth. Something between a smile and a smirk, quickly extinguished.

Before he could say more, Kakashi stepped up onto the platform.

He was dressed formally—for once without his mask, though his headband still rested over one eye. His silver hair, though still unruly, had been brushed back to some degree, and he stood with surprising dignity. The crowd stilled as he lifted a small scroll, clearing his throat.

"My name," Kakashi began, "is Hatake Kakashi. Sixth Hokage of the Hidden Leaf… and the luckiest, most exasperated sensei the village has ever known."

A chuckle rippled through the crowd.

"I want to begin by thanking each and every one of you. To the lords and ladies, village heads and shinobi leaders, honored guests and precious villagers who have come today from across the elemental nations—your presence here is not only humbling… it's historic. Thank you for honoring us."

He gave a deep bow, and the crowd responded with a respectful hush.

Kakashi straightened, eyes soft as he looked at the couple before him.

"Now, I was once the leader of a very unusual team. Team 7. A team of three genin who could not have been more different. One was a loudmouthed, knuckle-headed prankster with no sense of restraint and an even worse sense of direction. The other—an elite, top-ranked genius from one of the most feared clans in the world, stoic as a statue and cold as a snowfield. And between them… chaos. Constant chaos."

Another wave of laughter washed over the crowd. Naruto rubbed his neck and looked down, grinning bashfully.

Sasuke exhaled—just barely—but her brow rose a millimeter.

"They fought like brothers. And not in the sweet, family-dinner kind of way. No. More like the break-an-entire-training-ground, destroy-half-a-mountain kind of way."

Louder laughter now, even a few whistles. Naruto chuckled. Sasuke's eyes narrowed slightly in a way that meant Kakashi should probably tread lightly.

"They chased each other for years. Through warzones, through ruins, through pain, grief, betrayal, madness, even through the heart of the world itself. One ran. The other chased. And sometimes… they switched roles."

Silence followed that line. Kakashi's voice had softened.

"But no matter how far they went, their paths always circled back to each other. Because they were never really enemies. They were always reflections—of pain, of love, of hope. Brothers, not by blood, but by something stronger. They were rivals, yes. But more than that—they were bound."

Naruto looked at Sasuke.

Sasuke didn't look at him, but her fingers curled at her side.

Kakashi continued, his tone more personal now.

"I used to worry that they would destroy each other. I watched them clash so many times I thought I'd grow old between jutsu sequences. But now… Now, I realize something."

He looked directly at the crowd. Then back to Naruto and Sasuke.

"They were never trying to destroy each other. They were just trying to understand each other. And today, they stand here—not as enemies, not even as shinobi—but as two souls who chose each other in the end. Chose peace. Chose to live."

Sasuke looked down, her lips pressed in a tight line. Naruto stood straighter now, listening with eyes slightly wide, hands still at his sides.

Kakashi allowed the silence to settle.

"And yes," he added dryly, "before any of you ask… they are both under nineteen. And yes, they are tying the knot. And no, I didn't expect it either."

Laughter exploded across the courtyard.

"But if two of the strongest, most complicated shinobi of their generation want to get married, who am I to say no?" Kakashi chuckled. "Frankly, I'm just glad they're not fighting each other over a volcano this week."

Naruto couldn't help it—he laughed too. Even Sasuke's lips curled, if barely.

Kakashi smiled. "So, with the blessings of the people, of the clans, and of the gods—may this union mark not just the healing of old wounds, but the beginning of something stronger. Something neither war nor pain could tear apart."

He spread his hands open toward the altar.

"With my permission as the officiant, and my pride as their former sensei… may the ceremony commence."

—T~T—

Naruto stood there, stiff as stone, trying not to visibly sweat through his formal wedding yukata.

The sun was bright, the wind soft, and the entire village—and several other villages, judging by the accents and banners—watched in eager silence as the wedding ritual continued.

Then came the moment he wasn't ready for.

"The ring," the ceremonial master said. "Groom, please present the ring to your bride."

Naruto blinked. "The what—?"

Panic flared across his face.

Ring. Ring?! He looked down at his hands, sleeves, pockets—why did formal clothes have no pockets?!

He was just about to consider using a shadow clone to run to Ichiraku's and get a noodle as a makeshift ring when, mercifully, a hand tapped his side.

"Here," Shikamaru muttered from the side of the stage, handing over a small black box. "You forgot this."

"I love you, man," Naruto whispered, snatching it like it was a lifeline.

Opening it, his breath caught. Inside was a modest silver band, but etched into it was something that made his chest clench—a swirling red Uzumaki spiral and a black Uchiha fan, perfectly balanced. Simple, yet meaningful.

Sasuke looked at the ring, then at him. Her expression remained unreadable, but something in her eyes softened—just a flicker.

Naruto awkwardly took her hand, his fingers brushing against her cool, slender ones. She didn't flinch. He swallowed and slipped the ring onto her finger, not quite trusting himself to speak.

Done. Phew.

He let out a silent breath of relief.

"Now," said the officiant, a balding, wise-looking elder dressed in traditional robes, "we proceed with the 'Tea of Unity' ritual, as per Fire Country's ancient customs."

From the sidelines, Iruka stepped forward holding a small lacquered tray. On it was a single porcelain cup, filled with gently steaming green tea. Iruka knelt before the couple, his face full of quiet pride.

"It is tradition," he explained gently, "that the bride and groom sip from the same cup. To show harmony. Balance. And mutual acceptance."

Naruto reached for it—and then froze halfway.

Wait.

Same cup.

He looked at Sasuke.

Indirect kiss.

His face immediately turned ten shades redder.

Sasuke didn't say anything. She merely raised an eyebrow, waiting. He could almost hear her voice in his head saying, You're the idiot who proposed this. Drink the damn tea.

So, he took the cup first and sipped. Then handed it to her, fingers brushing hers again. She sipped as well, without hesitation. The cup was returned to Iruka, and he bowed, stepping back.

The officiant cleared his throat and turned to the ceremonial scroll.

He began to read aloud, verses written in the archaic style of old Fire Country weddings.

"May the flame of union burn gently in the storm. May the wind of fate not tear the roots of this bond. May you walk side by side, even where paths grow wild…"

Naruto leaned slightly toward Sasuke and whispered, "Wow, that's really poetic."

Sasuke's voice was flat. "It's standard."

He grinned. "Still kinda nice, though."

The officiant continued, then turned another page. He paused.

"…Ah. And now… do you, Sasuke Uchiha, accept the symbol of your marriage from Naruto Uzumaki as…"

The man squinted.

"…As… 'Ultra Super Rare Golden Ramen Cup From the Demon Country'?"

A long silence followed.

People in the crowd leaned forward, confused murmurs starting to stir.

Naruto's eyes widened. "Oh… oh crap, I forgot to change that…"

The officiant turned to him slowly. "Is this… is this a mistake?"

Naruto rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't have time, so I… kinda grabbed the closest valuable thing I had on me? And it was this ultra rare ramen cup I won on a mission in Demon Country…"

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well. Then let us proceed."

He turned back to Sasuke.

"Do you, Sasuke Uchiha, accept this Ultra Super Rare Golden Ramen Cup From the Demon Country as your symbol from Naruto Uzumaki?"

Sasuke was silent for a second. Naruto held his breath.

"I accept," she said coolly.

Naruto's heart thudded.

The officiant nodded, almost relieved. He turned to Naruto.

"Do you, Naruto Uzumaki, son of Minato Namikaze, accept Sasuke Uchiha, daughter of Fugaku Uchiha, as your wife?"

Naruto, still frazzled by the ramen cup incident, barely managed a coherent, "Uh, yes?"

The officiant nodded and turned again.

"Does she, Sasuke Uchiha, daughter of Fugaku Uchiha, accept Naruto Uzumaki, son of Minato Namikaze, as her husband?"

"I do," she answered clearly.

There was something final about that voice. Strong. Assured.

The officiant checked his scroll. "…Now the rest…"

Naruto blinked. "There's more?"

The officiant cleared his throat again, reading with practiced authority.

"Do you, Naruto Uzumaki, son of Kushina Uzumaki, accept Sasuke Uchiha, daughter of Mikoto Uchiha, as your wife?"

Naruto blinked. "Wait, didn't we just—? Uh—yes. Definitely, yes!"

He turned to Sasuke, wide-eyed.

"And do you, Sasuke Uchiha, daughter of Mikoto Uchiha, accept Naruto Uzumaki, son of Kushina Uzumaki, as your husband?"

Sasuke gave a small nod, her voice soft but clear. "I do."

"Do you both accept each other as spouses forever?"

Naruto stammered, "Y-Yes!"

"Yes," Sasuke said firmly.

The officiant closed the scroll with a small thud and raised his hand.

"Then by the power of this village, its traditions, and your will—I declare you husband and wife. May your garden be full of flowers."

Naruto blinked. "…We don't have a garden—"

"May. Your. Garden. Be full of flowers," the man said with finality.

Naruto shut up.

"Now…" the man smiled faintly, turning back to the couple, "You may kiss."

Naruto froze.

His feet rooted themselves into the stage. His eyes widened. Lips parted. He turned ever so slowly toward Sasuke.

"Uh, I, um—"

But she didn't wait.

She stepped forward. Fast. Purposeful.

And before Naruto could finish even one of his thousand awkward thoughts, something soft, warm, and undeniably real pressed against his lips.

It was just for a heartbeat.

But the moment landed like a lightning strike.

Gasps echoed. Then cheers. Then thunderous applause.

From the crowd, Kiba whooped. Ino squealed. Lee punched the air. Choji clapped with his whole heart. Gaara, in his calm dignity, gave a respectful nod. Kakashi smiled, closing his visible eye.

And Naruto?

He was pink as a peach.

Still dazed. Still staring at her.

Sasuke turned away as if nothing had happened, but the faintest tint of color touched the edge of her ears.

And as the crowd exploded in cheers, and flower petals rained from above like spring snow, Naruto Uzumaki realized—

He wasn't dreaming.

He was married.

To her.

To Sasuke Uchiha.

And somehow… despite everything… he was the happiest idiot in the world.

—T~T—

The sun had dipped low, casting long golden shadows across the village. Paper lanterns swayed in the soft evening wind, and laughter echoed from all corners of the feast ground. Tables were packed from edge to edge, villagers and guests elbow-deep in food, drink, and celebration.

At the center of it all, beneath the large decorated tent at the head of the field, sat the bride and groom.

Naruto sat stiffly, barely touching his chopsticks. He didn't feel real. Everything felt like a painting, or a genjutsu. Or a prank by Kami herself.

He glanced sideways.

Sasuke sat beside him, legs folded neatly beneath her pristine white kimono. She was eating soba with complete indifference, like she'd done this a thousand times. Like she hadn't just married him to escape execution.

Each bite she took was methodical, elegant, and somehow extremely threatening.

Naruto swallowed hard—he hadn't even eaten yet, and it already felt like something was stuck in his throat.

Inside his mindscape, Kurama was having a nervous breakdown.

"It's over. It's done. I'm ruined."

Naruto barely blinked. "What now…"

"You married an Uchiha. The Uchiha who trapped me with her eyes. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? I'm the Nine-Tails! The Great Fox! I should be feared, not married into!"

"You're not married into anything, she married me—" Naruto muttered under his breath.

"Semantics! You don't understand! The way she looked at me once… I still get hives thinking about it!"

Naruto sighed, resisting the urge to slam his forehead into the table. He hadn't eaten. His feet were sore. His yukata was tight around the waist. And Kurama was whining like a jilted cat.

From the crowd, Konohamaru continued filming, while several fangirls waved dreamily at Naruto from the back rows, sighing as if he'd broken their collective hearts.

None of it registered. His mind was mush.

Why did she agree?

Why so easily?

And how was she so calm?

A gentle voice beside him drew him out of the haze.

"Hey."

Sakura.

She stood to the side, tucking a lock of her pink hair behind her ear, a makeup brush in one hand, and an unsure smile on her lips.

"Mind if I check her face real quick?"

Naruto just nodded, grateful for the interruption.

Sakura leaned over and began dabbing lightly around Sasuke's cheek, then her jaw. "Your eyeliner's perfect, by the way. Didn't even smudge."

Sasuke grunted in acknowledgment.

Naruto blinked slowly, like a man waking from a long nap. "Sakura…"

She looked over. "Yeah?"

"Is… is any of this real?"

Sakura paused, straightening. "Yeah, it is."

"I mean…" Naruto gestured vaguely at the feast, the kimono, the guests, Sasuke. "This whole thing. It makes no sense. I proposed a fake marriage to save her life, and then she actually said yes. Then she kissed me. Then she drank the tea. Then she said 'I do' four times. And now we're here. And I feel like I'm going to die."

"You're not going to die, Naruto."

"No, really. I might. I haven't eaten anything because if I eat, it'll make it real. And if it's real, then I'm married. And if I'm married, then I'm married to Sasuke. And if I'm married to Sasuke then I—" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "—might die in my sleep."

Kurama snorted.

"You will. I'm definitely dying. You're next."

Sakura bit her lip, stifling a chuckle.

"You're malfunctioning," she said plainly.

Naruto rubbed his hands over his face. "I don't know what's happening anymore."

Sakura looked between him and Sasuke, then said, "Well, you're married. That happened."

Naruto whimpered slightly.

Sakura leaned down and said softly, "It's alright, Naruto. She's not going to kill you. Right, Sasuke?"

They both turned to look at her.

Sasuke blinked once, slowly, while still chewing a bite of rice.

Silence.

Not even a grunt.

Sakura's smile faltered. "R-right?"

Sasuke picked up her tea and sipped.

More silence.

"…Right," Sakura said, backing away. "Well, that's my cue."

She quickly adjusted Naruto's collar, brushed a nonexistent wrinkle from Sasuke's sleeve, and gave a half-nervous smile.

"You're doing great. Both of you. Just… breathe, Naruto. You've faced down gods. You'll survive a wedding."

Naruto looked up at her with glassy eyes. "But I didn't marry Kaguya."

Sakura snorted and patted his shoulder.

"I'm heading back to the medic table. If you pass out from nerves, I'll be nearby. Don't let her intimidate you too much."

"She already does."

"Fair."

With that, Sakura made her exit, leaving behind a quiet air.

Naruto exhaled heavily and looked around the feast. People were laughing, celebrating, toasting. Kids were running around. Kiba was hitting on someone. Ino was taking selfies with the Mizukage. Temari was yelling at Kankuro to stop eating all the dumplings.

Life was moving on.

And here he sat, next to the girl who haunted his childhood, his dreams, and his battles.

Sasuke, without turning to him, finally said, "Eat."

Naruto flinched. "W-what?"

"You're going to pass out."

"I'm not hungry…"

"You're lying."

He looked down at the bowl of miso soup in front of him. His stomach rumbled. Traitor.

"…Fine," he mumbled.

He picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of rice. It tasted like anxiety. Then he reached for the soup.

It helped. Slightly.

Sasuke finished her plate with silent efficiency.

Kurama, in the background, was still sulking.

"I want to file a complaint to the Sage of Six Paths. This is clearly spiritual harassment."

"Do you want me to feed you next?" Sasuke asked dryly.

Naruto nearly dropped his bowl.

"No! No, I'm good. I'm eating. Look. See? Chewing. Very happy man."

Sasuke said nothing, but the corner of her mouth twitched slightly. Maybe.

Maybe she was amused.

Or maybe plotting.

He honestly couldn't tell.

And Naruto realized—

This was his life now.

A terrifyingly unreadable wife. A sulking demon fox. Half the world celebrating. And a bowl of cold rice.

He took another bite.

Well… at least it wasn't boring.

—T~T—

The fire cracked and danced in ornate iron braziers placed around the ceremonial grounds. The feast had slowly begun to fade into a new phase—the traditional wedding dance. Music from flutes and shamisen drifted into the warm evening, echoing between the paper lanterns that shimmered like stars. The kunoichi had begun their performance: graceful, practiced, respectful.

Sakura led them in a radiant pink kimono, while Ino twirled in blue, followed by Tenten in crimson, Temari in pale lavender, and the others in a flutter of colors. They moved like waves in synchrony—elegant, disciplined, and powerful. For once, even the most hardened shinobi present gave pause, observing with genuine admiration.

Naruto and Sasuke sat side by side, watching in silence.

Naruto had finally begun to relax. A sliver of calm had nestled into his chest, not quite peace, but not full panic either.

Sasuke, impassive, watched the dancers with her usual aloof grace, hands folded on her lap, her white wedding kimono pristine and soft in the lantern light. The Uchiha fan was subtly embroidered into the hem, her dark hair spilling down over one eye, hiding the Rinnegan.

Then the crowd gently parted. Footsteps approached with purpose.

Naruto's momentary calm shattered like glass.

Kakashi came into view, not in his usual attire but in formal black and silver robes, his face half-masked, hair immaculately brushed. Beside him were several others: Mei Terumī, Mizukage of the Mist; Kurotsuchi, future Tsuchikage; Darui of the Cloud; and Gaara, stoic as always, flanked by his siblings.

And with them was a man Naruto didn't recognize. Middle-aged, thin-framed, with a tight bun of gray-streaked hair, dressed in robes adorned with the insignia of all Five Great Nations—Shinobi Union.

He approached Naruto and Sasuke with a formal bow.

"Congratulations," the man said with a polite smile. "Uzumaki-san. Uchiha-san. On behalf of the Shinobi Union, allow me to extend our most formal blessings."

Naruto blinked. "Uh… thanks?"

Kakashi nodded solemnly, his one visible eye serious.

The man reached into his sleeve and drew out a tightly rolled scroll, the seal of the Union clear on the front.

"I am here to conclude formalities. The union between Uzumaki Naruto, Hero of the Fourth Great Ninja War, and Sasuke Uchiha, formerly of the Akatsuki and known international criminal, has consequences far beyond Konoha."

He unrolled the scroll on the low table in front of them. The parchment stretched long and wide, detailed in fine ink.

Naruto felt the back of his neck prickle.

Sasuke remained unmoved.

The man read aloud.

"Sasuke Uchiha, an SSS-rank rogue shinobi from Konohagakure, who deserted the village at the age of twelve; who sought asylum under rogue Shinobi Orochimaru; who attempted assassination of multiple Kage at the Five Kage Summit in the Land of Iron; who joined the Akatsuki; who attempted a coup against the elemental nations by targeting the Daimyō system and Kage infrastructure… is hereby officially pardoned."

Naruto clenched his fists as murmurs rose from surrounding diplomats.

The man continued without a flicker of emotion.

"Said pardon is granted solely on the basis of her voluntary union with Naruto Uzumaki, and upon the strict acceptance of the following conditions:"

~ She must remain married to Naruto Uzumaki.

~ She must permanently resign from all shinobi-related duties, missions, and ranks.

~ She is not to leave the confines of Konohagakure without prior approval from the Union Council and the Hokage.

~ If she leaves her residence, she will be under constant surveillance.

~ If at any time she exhibits signs of treason, she shall be executed immediately.

A heavy silence fell over the courtyard. Even the music had stilled, as the last note hung in the air, unacknowledged.

Naruto opened his mouth. "This is—"

But before he could continue, Sasuke reached for the brush.

With a smooth, fluid motion, she signed.

No hesitation. No argument. Not a single question.

Just ink and silence.

The man gave a curt bow. "Thank you. With that, the matter is concluded."

He stepped back and disappeared into the shadows beyond the lantern light.

Naruto sat frozen. "You just… signed it?"

Sasuke's voice was calm. "They needed insurance. They got it."

"But—"

"I knew this was coming."

Naruto couldn't argue. Deep down, so had he. Still, seeing it laid out in ink—that she could be executed, watched, shackled—felt like a betrayal.

Kurotsuchi stepped forward next, arms crossed, lips curved in a faint smile, but her tone—razor sharp.

"Well, Uchiha… welcome back to the cage. Hope you enjoy your leash."

Sasuke didn't flinch. "Shouldn't you be busy trying not to blow yourself up?"

"Cute." Kurotsuchi leaned closer. "Just remember: one wrong move, and there won't be a village left to bury you in."

Mei approached more slowly, her expression unreadable.

"You've caused pain to many of us, Uchiha," she said gently, almost wistfully. "You tried to destroy the world. And now, you're marrying its light."

Sasuke met her gaze. "Your point?"

"Break his heart," Mei said, lips curved with something between mirth and menace, "and I'll boil you alive."

Naruto's head whipped around. "Can we not threaten the bride right now?"

Darui was next.

He cracked his neck, eyes half-lidded as always, voice slow and dry.

"I haven't forgotten," he said. "Land of Iron. You chopped off Ay-sama's arm like it was nothing. You think marrying Naruto's gonna fix that?"

Sasuke tilted her head. "You want me to sew it back?"

Darui sighed. "No. Just… if you even think of betrayal, don't expect us to hesitate again."

Gaara stepped forward last.

Naruto stood, uncertain, but Gaara simply placed a hand on his shoulder and looked to Sasuke.

"Look after him," he said. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Sasuke, for once, said nothing.

Naruto nodded with relief. "Thanks, Gaara…"

Then the moment passed.

The visiting leaders dispersed, blending back into the feast. The music resumed, soft and tentative at first, then stronger. The kunoichi continued their dance, and the tension in the air slowly dissipated.

Naruto sat back down beside Sasuke, the cushion beneath him suddenly uncomfortable.

He leaned in. "You didn't even flinch. You knew what that contract said."

"I told you," she said, calmly reaching for her tea, "I knew this would happen."

"But they basically own you now."

"No," she said, sipping. "They think they do."

Naruto blinked. "That's not reassuring."

She tilted her head toward him, just slightly. "Would you rather I said no?"

His throat tightened. "…No."

"Then stop whining."

And just like that, Naruto Uzumaki, Hero of the World, sealed legend of peace… shut up.

Because in the end, the truth was plain:

She didn't marry him for her freedom.

She married him to protect his.

Even if it cost her everything.

—T~T—

Two hours after the overwhelming feast, political threats disguised as polite diplomacy, and enough emotional whiplash to kill a less stubborn man, Naruto Uzumaki found himself unlocking the door to his apartment—with Sasuke Uchiha trailing silently behind him.

The second the door creaked open, the cozy, familiar smell of instant ramen, cleaning spray, and warm wood greeted them. A sanctuary of cluttered peace.

Sasuke, still in her white ceremonial kimono, stepped inside without a word. Her gaze wandered, cataloguing the space—framed photos, the frog-shaped alarm clock, a half-packed ninja pouch on the table, an absurdly large toad plush in the corner. She moved to the couch and sat down, expression unreadable as usual.

Naruto scratched the back of his head, kicking off his sandals. He glanced over at her, then at the kitchen, then back at her again.

"Uh… ramen?" he offered, gesturing awkwardly toward the pantry. "I mean, not for any particular reason, just… y'know, habit."

Sasuke turned her head slowly and gave him a flat, unimpressed look.

He raised his hands. "Alright, alright, just checking."

She looked away. The silence settled like dust.

Naruto, still trying to not combust from residual ceremony tension, gestured toward the hallway. "Anyway, you should, um… freshen up. Change out of that thing. Must be heavy, right?"

She raised a brow.

"You have clothes, right?"

Sasuke didn't answer.

"Oh… you don't."

Naruto paled. "Crap, I didn't think of that. You've been… y'know. In prison. Or, uh, on 'probationary confinement under diplomatic scrutiny.'" He forced a chuckle that died halfway.

Still silent.

Naruto rushed to the side closet, pulling out a wooden box. "These are… uh, clothes from the Uchiha vault. My mom stored them after… yeah. They're yours now."

He held out a folded dark gown—simple, but elegant. Black silk, crimson accents. Traditional Uchiha make. Sasuke looked at it, then at him.

She took it without a word and disappeared into the bathroom, the soft click of the door shutting leaving him alone.

Naruto exhaled and slumped against the wall. "This is gonna be one weird night."

He walked into his bedroom—and stopped dead in his tracks.

There, standing proud and evil, was the bed.

A king-size monstrosity of fluffy pillows, soft sheets…

…and rose petals.

And sakura petals. Real ones.

"WHAT THE—?!" he shrieked.

Where did these even come from? Was this Ino's doing? No—Kiba? Maybe Sakura's weird idea of 'fun'? Or was this some sick prank by Kakashi?

Either way—absolutely not. There was no way he could let Sasuke see this bed and think he had set this up.

She'd fry him.

He grabbed a pillow, a blanket, turned around—

—and nearly collided face-first into her.

Sasuke stood in the hallway, now changed. The gown fit her like water around stone—graceful, sharp, soft in unexpected ways. Her bangs were pushed to the side now, both eyes exposed—the Rinnegan dim, the other steady and clear.

Naruto blinked, and then turned away quickly. "Ah! Sorry! I didn't mean to—uh, you startled me."

She glanced at the pillow and blanket in his arms.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he blurted. "You can take the bed. I'll clear it—there were petals. Not my idea. I swear."

Sasuke stared at him. "You want me to sleep on that?" she said flatly, pointing toward the flowery nightmare bed.

"Fair point," Naruto muttered. "Still. I can't let you sleep on the couch. I'm not a total jerk."

"Then give me a futon."

"I don't have one."

"Then I will sleep on the couch."

Naruto shook his head. "No, you sleep on the bed. I'll clean it up, don't worry."

"I said I'll sleep on the couch."

"You're the guest—"

"You're the one who invited me."

"It was a political arrangement!"

They stood there, eyes locked, argument teetering toward absurdity.

Then Naruto smirked. "Alright. I'll sleep on the bed."

Sasuke narrowed her eyes. "No, I'll sleep on the—wait, what—?"

Too late. Naruto had already slipped past her, still holding the pillow and blanket, and collapsed on the couch.

"Good night," he called out. "Enjoy the bed of roses!"

She stood there, arms crossed, seething—though it was more exasperation than anger. After a long moment, she stepped into the bedroom, turned off the lights, and lay on the now mostly-cleared bed. There were still a few stubborn petals scattered around, but she ignored them.

The silence stretched again, this time softer, deeper. The moonlight filtered through the window, tracing gentle lines across the floorboards. Somewhere distant, a dog barked. Maybe Kiba's.

Naruto stared at the ceiling of his living room, still in his yukata, eyes open.

Kurama's voice rumbled in his head. You're a fool.

"I know."

You had one bed.

"I noticed."

And she's in it.

"…Yep."

You should've at least asked for half.

Naruto rolled over and buried his face into the pillow. "I'm not going to negotiate sleeping arrangements with Sasuke. I value my life."

Kurama sighed, a deep fox-like grumble. You married a feral queen with enough chakra to level the moon. And now she's in your house, in your bed, and you're here sulking like a child.

Naruto muffled his reply. "I'm not sulking."

You're sulking.

There was quiet from the bedroom. No movement. No sound. She was probably asleep already. Or meditating. Or plotting a coup against the furniture.

Eventually, Naruto's breath evened out. Not quite rest, but no longer war.

In the bedroom, Sasuke opened her eyes slowly, staring at the ceiling. The scent of sakura petals was still in the air. She hated how familiar it smelled. Like old springs and soft disasters.

She turned on her side, eyes drifting toward the sliver of light escaping under the door where Naruto slept.

She didn't regret signing that scroll.

Not because she believed in the peace it demanded—but because somehow, despite everything… this felt like a beginning.

Not forgiveness.

Not redemption.

Just… something real.

And real was enough.

Chapter Text

First Day Together: I

The sun had barely begun to stretch over the rooftops of Konoha when Sasuke stirred awake. It was six-thirty. The light filtering in through the blinds painted long, golden lines across the ceiling and the floor. There was a strange warmth in the air, a kind of domestic stillness she wasn't used to.

Her eyes blinked open slowly, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. Then her hand brushed against the blanket. The scent clung to it—subtle but distinct. A mix of something soft and warm—like chocolate—and the unmistakable salt of miso soup. Naruto's scent.

Before she realized what she was doing, she lifted the blanket slightly, pressed her face into it, and inhaled again.

Then her eyes snapped open in horror.

What the hell am I doing?

She bolted upright, cheeks flushing ever so faintly as she hastily tied her hair into a neat bun, fingers slightly clumsy for once. The familiarity of the bed beneath her—his bed—had lulled her into a moment of weakness. And weakness, in her world, meant vulnerability. Intimacy. Dangerous things.

Dismissing the thought, she stood, adjusted her gown, and padded silently out of the bedroom.

In the living room, she found Naruto exactly where she expected—sprawled awkwardly across the too-small couch, limbs dangling off both ends, one arm crooked behind his head, the other hanging off the edge like a loose puppet. His neck was twisted at a painful angle, his mouth wide open. And somehow, despite the discomfort, he was still snoring like a construction site.

Sasuke sighed. "Idiot."

With almost no effort, she crouched down and slipped her arms beneath him, lifting his entire weight without disturbing his nap. He murmured something unintelligible but didn't wake. She gently adjusted him, settling him in a better position so his neck wouldn't be ruined for the day.

That was when he spoke.

"Sasuke… plasse eat it… Say 'ah'…"

She froze.

Her eyes widened.

"…Like that… yes… just like that… mhn… make sound… while eating… No… more… no, more… ramen… raaamen…"

Then, as if summoned by some demonic punctuation, he scratched his butt absently in his sleep—and let out a loud, disgraceful fart.

Sasuke's face went completely blank.

Oh no.

Her Sharingan activated involuntarily—triggered by stress and horror alike—and everything was committed to perfect, vivid memory: the slack-jawed face, the murmured ramen-fetish nonsense, the sound of flatulence echoing like a dying horn.

She turned off her eyes immediately.

No use.

It was recorded now. Etched into her brain forever.

I married this.

She stood slowly. Walked away like a haunted specter. Nothing could be said. No battle. No enemy. No ancient cursed technique had scarred her like this.

In silence, she went to the bathroom. The sound of running water soon followed.

Steam filled the space as she washed away what trauma she could. She stood under the shower longer than necessary, letting the heat soak into her skin. She wasn't a Shinobi anymore, officially. That identity—rogue, avenger, shadow—was set aside. Not that she'd ever truly been free of its weight. Now, however, things were different.

Different didn't mean easier.

Once she was done, she dried off and wrapped the towel around her before looking at her options. Which were, frankly, non-existent. She didn't have any personal clothing beyond what Naruto had pulled from the old Uchiha vault. Her old Kunoichi attire was off-limits now—by decree. No weapons, no flak jackets. No headband. She was no longer a soldier of the Leaf.

The gown from last night had been fine for sleeping, but she couldn't just wear it all day again. She rifled through the small bundle Naruto had left out and found another traditional piece—this one darker, a soft charcoal-gray kimono with a crimson sash and subtle Uchiha fan insignia stitched on the back in thread that glinted slightly when the light hit it.

She held it for a moment.

Soft. Worn. Familiar.

It smelled faintly of cedar, dust, and something older—like her mother's perfume, long faded.

She let her fingers linger there for a moment longer before slipping into the clothes. They fit surprisingly well. Comfortable, but stately.

The Uchiha didn't do "casual." Even their house robes looked like something one might wear to a state dinner.

And somehow, despite everything, Sasuke didn't mind. She had no need for shinobi garb now. No need for kunai holsters or throwing pouches.

What she had were memories. These clothes, this scent, this quiet morning—they reminded her of who she had been before everything collapsed. A daughter. A sister. A part of something that had been torn apart.

Now it was her again, walking the slow path toward something uncertain.

Naruto was still snoring when she emerged. She walked past him without a glance, though the image from earlier threatened to surface again.

She squashed it down like an unwanted weed.

It would be a long day. And possibly a long life.

But at least, for now, there was quiet.

And maybe quiet was a good start.

—T~T—

Sasuke moved toward the so-called "kitchen" in Naruto's run-down excuse for an apartment, a reluctant sigh escaping her lips. The creaking of the wooden floor beneath her feet added to the already grating sensation of being in a home that seemed held together by pure delusion and cup noodles.

The moment she opened the fridge, a faint, chilling breeze swept across her face—followed by an immediate wave of disappointment. Her eyes scanned the sparse contents.

Ice cream. Three tubs.

Cans of soda and expired energy drinks.

Raw beef. Raw mutton. Raw chicken.

She leaned in. The meats were packed in ziplocks and labeled "Ramen topping - battle mode", "Ramen topping - emotional support", and—disturbingly—"Ramen topping - date with ramen (don't jinx it)."

"…What the hell."

She closed the fridge slowly, pressing her hand against the cool metal as though to collect herself.

Okay. Fine. He's a ramen addict. But surely—surely—he must have something edible?

She turned toward the upper cabinets, tugged one open.

Cockroaches.

One of them waved at her.

Her Sharingan activated out of pure self-defense before she slammed the door shut and stood there in stunned silence. The cabinet was an unholy temple of empty ramen cups, some stacked like a monument to madness. The others had dried bits of god-knows-what stuck to their rims, and judging by the dust, they hadn't moved in years.

She opened the next cabinet. More ramen. Third one? Instant noodles and tasting salt, whatever that was.

No rice.

No vegetables.

No bread.

No miso paste unless it was powdered and inside a ramen packet.

She opened the final drawer—her last hope. A small mountain of spice packets stared back at her. She blinked. Why did he even own this much seasoning? What did he season—air?

"…I'm going to kill him."

She didn't say it loudly. It didn't need volume. The words, even softly whispered, carried the weight of a kunai against the throat of common sense.

Sasuke leaned back against the sink, crossing her arms and staring at the window. She wasn't hungry, exactly, but the realization that there wasn't even a single edible thing—no rice ball, no tea, not even instant curry—gnawed at her patience.

Cooking? Fine. She could cook. She'd made enough meals on missions. Roasted wild boar over a campfire, made rice in a tin pot. But this?

This wasn't a mission. This was supposed to be a home. And this home was hellbent on making her into some tragic parody of a housewife, and that word—it alone made her skin crawl.

Housewife.

The Uchiha heir reduced to making breakfast while her idiotic new husband snored and farted on the couch like a swamp toad.

It was worse than anything Madara could've ever planned.

Still…

She turned her head, casting a glance toward the living room.

Naruto was asleep, mouth slightly open, one hand hanging off the couch, the other curled around a pillow like it owed him money. His face was unguarded, open, strangely soft. There was something in that stillness that told her he hadn't had many mornings like this—safe. Resting. Dreaming stupid things. Whatever idiocy he'd mumbled about ramen earlier had been sincere. Childish, yes, but genuine.

And she didn't have the heart to ruin it.

Damn it.

With a defeated breath, Sasuke looked around the living room. And grimaced.

The table was covered in half-read scrolls, unopened letters, shuriken wrappers (why did those even exist?), and what looked like a fossilized banana peel. The floor had dust collected in the corners like it was nesting there. One of the tatami mats was curled at the edge. The window sill was coated with the kind of grime that whispered you don't belong here.

No.

This wasn't about being a housewife. This was about survival. Living in this filth was impossible. Even birds built cleaner nests.

Sasuke rolled up her sleeves, gathered her willpower, and began.

She started by opening the windows. A gust of fresh morning air blew in, chasing out the stagnant scent of boy-socks and weapon oil. Then she found the broom—broken handle, but usable. She swept with mechanical precision. Dust, wrappers, old scrolls, and mysterious crumbs were all gathered and destroyed.

The dishes in the sink? She washed them. The plates were chipped, the cups mismatched, and one of them said "World's Best Ninja (Believe It!)" in fading red ink.

She briefly considered breaking that one. She resisted.

Next came the shelves. Scrolls were stacked properly. Ink bottles and brushes arranged. Floor mats beaten out. The walls… well, nothing could fix those cracks, but she wiped them anyway.

Then she found a photo. Hidden behind a stack of old magazines.

A photo of Naruto, young and laughing, with Iruka. She stared at it for a long moment before gently setting it on the cleared table, facing the room.

By the time she was done, an hour had passed.

Naruto was still asleep. Still snoring.

And Sasuke?

She wiped her hands on a cloth, stood in the now-breathable space of the living room, and crossed her arms. It wasn't perfect. But it was livable.

She wouldn't say she felt proud. That would be a step too far.

But a tiny part of her—a very tiny part—felt like the house breathed easier now.

Still, she had to eat. And for that, she'd need to wake him. Because she was not about to explain to the ANBU guard that she went out to buy breakfast alone and got tased for it.

She glanced toward the couch again.

Naruto mumbled something.

"…Sasuke… no… don't eat the last fish cake… it's mine…"

She blinked.

"…Miso…flavor of love…"

She turned away.

Breakfast could wait a few more minutes.

—T~T—

Naruto woke up with a loud yawn, stretching like a lazy lion who'd finally accepted he wasn't the king of his bed anymore.

The sunlight poured through the half-open window, warming his face. He blinked against it and groaned softly, rubbing his eyes.

"Friday…" he mumbled, "No missions… no reports… no Hokage yelling about paperwork… perfect…"

But then his eyes focused, and his heart skipped.

Sitting across from him on the old couch—upright, calm, composed, legs crossed, eyes scanning a worn paperback—was Sasuke.

Not the old Sasuke with spiky wild hair and stormy eyes.

This Sasuke.

Hair longer now, tied in a precise bun, dark bangs artfully veiling her Rinnegan. She wore a deep midnight gown that clung to her form like a silk shadow—one of Mikoto Uchiha's preserved robes from the clan vault. Regal. Soft. The folds settled around her like dusk settling on a quiet village.

Naruto blinked slowly, rubbing his eyes again just in case this was a dream.

"…Mornin'," he finally said, voice rough with sleep.

She didn't look up. Just turned the page of her book and muttered, "You snore."

Naruto grinned and shifted to a more comfortable position, arms behind his head. He yawned again, then let his eyes wander—casually, innocently, just soaking it in.

She looked... mature. Calm. Kind of cute, if he was being honest with himself. Of course, he'd never admit that out loud. Not in this lifetime, maybe not even the next.

And then, like a rock hitting the pond of his brain, the memories splashed back.

The wedding.

The crowd.

The awkward ceremony.

The damn Ramen Cup.

The kiss.

The fact that he had married Sasuke Uchiha.

Naruto bolted upright like he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning.

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. A goldfish on fire.

He stared at her.

She turned a page, not even sparing him a glance.

"Are you done staring?" she asked flatly.

"Wha—I—I wasn't staring!" Naruto stammered. "Believe it—I was just—just trying to remember if I'm dreaming or if this is actually happening because I swear yesterday was kinda crazy and now you're sitting there reading a book in my apartment wearing my mother-in-law's gown and—and—"

She looked up finally, her expression unreadable.

"I have been waiting for three hours for you to wake up."

Naruto froze mid-ramble.

"…Oh," he said sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

She stood, closing the book with a quiet snap. "Get freshened up."

"Huh?"

"I need you to go to the market and bring food."

Naruto blinked.

"What do you mean? We have food. Like, every kind of instant ramen ever created. Limited editions, discontinued flavors—"

"Naruto Uzumaki." Her voice dropped a tone, cold as the edge of a katana. "I need you to go to the market and bring real food. Vegetables. Rice. Miso. Eggs. Flour. Milk. Fresh things. Things that don't come in a Styrofoam cup."

Naruto scratched the back of his head nervously. "Well, yeah, I guess we could use some, uh… other food too. But I mean—ramen's got everything, doesn't it? Like, protein, carbs, flavor packets…"

She crossed her arms. "There is a cockroach that waved at me in your cabinet this morning."

"…Waved?"

"It waved, Naruto."

"Oh." He rubbed his face, suddenly very aware of the disaster his apartment truly was.

"I need ingredients," she said with finality. "I am not eating expired soup powder for the rest of my life."

Naruto raised his hands. "Alright, alright. Message received, princess. I'll go to the market. Just—don't activate your Rinnegan. I'm already nervous enough waking up next to you."

"You didn't wake up next to me. You slept on the couch like a decent person."

He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "thank the Sage for that" under his breath as he stumbled to his feet.

As he padded toward the bathroom, yawning again, he called over his shoulder, "So, uh… do you want me to get anything special? Like, I dunno, a particular type of rice or something fancy?"

Sasuke paused.

"…Get tomatoes."

"Tomatoes? Really?"

"Yes. And tofu."

"Noted." He gave a thumbs-up without looking. "I'll be back in a flash."

"Make sure you actually wash your face before going outside."

He stopped mid-step and sighed.

"Bossy already, huh?"

"I'm your wife now," she said coolly. "It's part of the job."

And as Naruto stepped into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him, Sasuke exhaled softly and returned to her seat. She opened her book again, turning the page—but this time, a small, invisible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

Chapter Text

First Day Together: II

At the market, Naruto strolled like a zombie freshly kicked out of bed—half-awake, half-dazed, and fully confused.

The morning air was warm, but he still shivered—not from the cold, but from the weight of everything that had happened. His sandals slapped against the stone path lazily as he weaved between stalls, a small bag in one hand and a list in his head. Vegetables. Tomatoes. Tofu. Real food. Real life. Real marriage.

What was happening?

He and Sasuke—him and her—they were like oil and water. Fire and wind. Lightning and stubbornness. Cat and dog, maybe. Even at their best, they always bickered. Always butted heads. For every moment of quiet understanding, there were twenty loud ones, fists flying or glares flaring. It was just how they worked.

So why, why, was he now obediently shopping for groceries at her command like some newly recruited househusband?

Usually, he'd throw a tantrum. Yell back. Call her a 'teme' with full dramatic emphasis. Maybe throw in a shadow clone to deliver his insults in stereo while he fled the kitchen.

But today? He just sighed, nodded, and got dressed. Why?

Was it the gown? The way it clung to her, mature and refined, like a woman from the Land of Iron's nobility? Maybe that was it. Maybe it had scrambled his brain.

He scratched his head. "Maybe I should wear something like that too," he muttered. "Then maybe I'll finally win an argument."

But he scoffed at himself right after. He was still seventeen, damn it. A whole teenager! He hadn't even gotten to meet other girls properly. No dates. No flings. Nothing. Just training, ramen, missions, and screaming Sasuke's name across battlefields. And now?

Now he was married. Legally. Spiritually. Politically. Emotionally?

…He wasn't ready to think about that yet.

And she was eighteen. Eighteen. A whole year older. She always had that smug superiority over him, didn't she? Even now, it was obvious she'd use that against him forever.

Still… as much as he didn't want to admit it…

Sasuke really was… well, she was definitely candy for the eyes.

His face heated slightly.

Jiraiya had once drunkenly prophesied—slurring into his sake cup—that Sasuke Uchiha would grow into a "Level 7 woman." Naruto had never understood what that meant, but apparently it was good. Very good. Because Jiraiya claimed Lady Tsunade herself was a "Level 10," which in Pervy Sage language meant top-tier.

Naruto never expected to marry Sasuke, though. Not in a thousand years.

And now that he had, he couldn't even think about her in THAT way. She was his best friend. His rival. His family. His wife.

He groaned and slapped his forehead. "Man, this is so messed up…"

He passed by the tomato vendor, and the old lady behind the stall smiled wide. "Naruto-kun! Congratulations on your wedding!"

"Ah—uh, thanks, baa-chan," he said awkwardly, scratching his neck. "Can I get—uh, a dozen of the ripest ones you've got?"

"For you and your pretty bride? Of course! Half price!"

Naruto chuckled nervously. "Thanks…"

The market, surprisingly, was kinder than usual. Everywhere he went, people greeted him—cheering, nodding, bowing. Vendors gave him discounts, slipped in extra items, congratulated him. Some even gave him small gifts for Sasuke. Hand-woven towels, spices, even a bottle of expensive tea with a note saying "For your wife's elegant mornings."

He didn't know whether to laugh or panic.

With each passing moment, the weight settled heavier on his shoulders. The expectations. The reality. The permanence of it all.

Still, he made good time.

Tomatoes? Check.

Tofu? Check.

Flour, rice, miso, eggs, milk, bread, vegetables? Check and double check.

He even remembered to get the spring onions, though he had no idea what they were for.

The final bag was heavy but manageable. Naruto adjusted it over his shoulder, looking up at the morning sky. Blue and warm. Not a single cloud.

"Time to head back," he muttered.

He had survived the execution, the ceremony, the kiss, and now the groceries.

All that remained… was surviving married life with Sasuke Uchiha.

—T~T—

Naruto shuffled into the apartment with the grocery bags dangling from each hand like weights from a punishment mission. The moment he stepped inside, the scent of a cleaned home hit him—not his usual ramen-and-mildew aroma, but something that felt like responsibility.

He held out the bag to her like an offering to an angel.

Sasuke took it without a word, set it on the counter, and began unpacking in total silence. Her fingers moved swiftly, pulling out item after item and checking each with the gaze of a suspicious ANBU interrogator.

She picked up the tomatoes, frowned.

"These aren't fresh."

Naruto blinked. "What? I picked the ripest ones…"

"They're not fresh."

Naruto sighed and dragged himself to the couch like a defeated soldier returning from the battlefield. He plopped down, grabbed the dusty old book on chakra science he'd been meaning to finish for, oh, maybe three years now, and tried to focus.

Tried.

He turned a page. Words danced uselessly on it.

In the tiny kitchenette, Sasuke was already organizing the ingredients like a strategist preparing for war. She rolled up her sleeves—gracefully, of course—and set the rice in a pot. Naruto glanced up. "Um, just don't burn—"

A brief pause. Her Rinnegan flicked toward him.

He held up both hands. "Never mind. Carry on. Don't mind me."

She went back to work.

In his mindscape, however, things were much less calm.

Kurama paced like an angry tiger in a bamboo cage, tails lashing. Steam practically hissed from his fur.

"This is unacceptable," Kurama growled. "You are the Jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails. You are my host. I've had legendary partners. Ruthless. Proud. Commanding."

Naruto tilted his mental head toward him, eyes still half-reading the textbook in the real world.

"Yeah, yeah. I remember."

"Mito Uzumaki! She ruled the Senju with her pinky finger. She turned Hashirama—the Kami Nō Shinobi—into a puppy."

Naruto blinked in real life. "Hashirama was kind of a puppy anyway—"

"Kushina! Your mother! Do you know what she did? She punched Minato into the river during a date because he forgot her birthday. She dominated him! She dominated everyone!"

Naruto scratched his head. "Well… she was scary."

"Exactly!" Kurama bellowed. "My hosts were alphas. Leaders! Beasts of fury! And now look at you…"

Naruto sighed. "Come on…"

"You're scared of her. You cower when she glares. She says 'buy tomatoes' and you run—and come back with bad ones, by the way."

Naruto flopped back on the couch and groaned aloud. "They looked fresh."

In the kitchen, Sasuke was now heating the water with a casual flick of her hand, her fire chakra flowing out with precise elegance. It was oddly beautiful. The water boiled without spilling a single drop. The rice steamed.

Naruto, meanwhile, couldn't tell if he was relaxed or terrified.

Kurama wasn't done.

"You're being submissive to an Uchiha."

"Not just any Uchiha," Naruto muttered to himself.

"Yes, exactly! The Uchiha who tried to overthrow the world order, trap me in a genjutsu, and threw thunder at your friends for fun!"

Naruto grumbled, turning another page in the textbook. "She was going through stuff…"

"She's always going through stuff! That's what Uchihas do! They mope, they suffer, they do something dramatic, and then they expect you to fix it with ramen!"

Naruto sat up. "She's trying. She's cooking right now."

"She's winning right now."

Naruto flinched.

"You let her take your bed. You slept on the couch like a whipped pup. You brought her groceries. You're now watching her cook. She'll eat first, I bet. You'll wait. Then she'll take the remote. Then your blanket. Then your soul."

Naruto buried his face in the book. "Please stop."

"No! I will not stop until you establish dominance! Puff out your chest. Growl. Bite if necessary!"

"You want me to bite her?"

"Figuratively! Unless she likes that."

Naruto stared blankly.

"Do not look at me like that, human."

In the kitchen, Sasuke ladled steaming rice into bowls, methodical and calm. The smell of miso hit Naruto's nose and, despite everything, made his stomach growl.

She glanced at him. "You're talking to the fox again?"

Naruto's ears turned pink. "Maybe."

She slid a bowl across the counter. "Eat."

He stood up, head hanging slightly. "Yes."

Kurama howled in his mind. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

—T~T—

The food was… edible. Not excellent, not awful—just sat somewhere awkward in between like a forgotten middle child. Naruto didn't say a word. He knew better. Even if his taste buds were used to gourmet ramen fireworks, he chewed his miso rice and tofu with the discipline of a shinobi in interrogation.

They ate in silence.

A silence that wasn't hostile, just filled with the awkward static of two people who used to scream battle cries at each other now sharing a rice bowl across a tiny table.

Naruto wanted to say something light. Something familiar. So his mouth betrayed him. "You're such a bastard—uh—"

Sasuke's chopsticks paused mid-air. Her eyes flicked up, blank as the surface of a frozen lake.

Naruto froze.

Kurama, however, had no such restraint.

"YES! THAT'S IT! NOW GROWL. SMACK THE TABLE. SHOW HER WHO'S THE ALPHA!"

Naruto wisely ignored him.

He cleared his throat, chewed more rice, and pretended he hadn't just mentally insulted the person who now had access to his toothbrush.

Sasuke gave him that look. Not angry. Not offended. Just… quiet judgment, served cold and efficient. Then she resumed eating, as if forgiving his entire existence was a chore to get done before lunch ended.

Naruto slumped a little.

He ate messily. Rice scattered like leaves in the wind. Crumbs dotted his cheeks. Miso stained his lips. He chewed with too much enthusiasm. He slurped without mercy. And then… he burped.

It echoed. Loudly.

Sasuke said nothing. She did not flinch. She merely stared at him for a long, long moment. The silence that followed held a thousand unsaid things, and all of them sounded like internal screaming.

"I'll wash the dishes," she said, voice flat and betraying not a single emotion.

"I'll help!" Naruto sprang up, trying to salvage his dignity.

She stepped back, arms folded. "Go ahead."

Naruto rolled up his sleeves, took a deep breath, and grabbed a plate.

He had barely touched the soap before crack—a glass slipped, hit the edge of the sink, and shattered.

They stared at it.

Naruto slowly turned toward her. "I—I'll just—"

Sasuke sighed. "Step aside."

He did. Immediately.

While she washed in peace, Naruto retreated to the couch and picked up his chakra science book again. He read the same paragraph twelve times and still couldn't remember a word of it.

Sasuke, meanwhile, had nothing left to do.

No missions. No village patrols. No urgent revenge plans.

She looked around the cramped apartment. Her eyes fell on the small travel bag Naruto had brought from the Uchiha clan vault—the only remaining remnants of her heritage: a few clothes, some personal items, maybe a hairbrush. She took the bag, determined to organize her things.

She scanned the room for a wardrobe.

There wasn't one.

Not even a wooden shelf or a closet. No drawers. Not even a laundry basket. She stood there holding her mother's neatly folded clothes in her arms like a sad offering to the void. A rat sprinted past her bare foot and vanished behind a stack of empty ramen boxes.

She wasn't startled. She was Uchiha. She had seen worse.

But she was surprised. How could anyone live like this?

There was a moment—just a flicker—when she felt a primal urge to yell. Not scream. Just yell. Shake this boy awake with all the fury of a clan whose fan once ruled the battlefield. But she didn't.

She just pressed her lips into a line and forced her anger down like bad sake.

The apartment was a disaster. Not just messy. Not even neglected. It was wrong. The floor was dusty. There were spider webs in the corners. Ramen boxes were piled like building blocks of a failed civilization. The bathroom had mildew. The sink faucet leaked. And the living room was only tolerable because it had been hastily cleaned before the wedding. The only spotless thing was the bed—obviously scrubbed clean and layered with petals by enthusiastic hands hoping for a romantic first night.

Hilarious.

Sasuke stared at the mess, then at the bed. She touched one of the leftover rose petals. Then she dropped the clothes on the chair (which had one leg shorter than the rest and wobbled like a drunk Chunin).

This wasn't a home.

It was a ramen shrine with plumbing issues.

She turned her eyes to Naruto, who was still muttering from the couch.

"…chakra pathways… oscillation… what's a 'chakra-magnetic flip zone'?"

Sasuke sighed.

She walked to the small kitchen again, pulled out a broom from behind the fridge, and began sweeping.

Not because she was a housewife.

Because she was a Uchiha.

And even in exile, a Uchiha does not live in a dump.

—T~T—

Naruto coughed once.

Then again. Loudly this time.

Sasuke didn't even glance in his direction. She was sweeping the floor, face calm behind a pale blue surgical mask. An apron tied around her waist—old, faded, once pink, now closer to gray. It looked oddly fitting on her slender frame, especially with her hair neatly pinned up. Her dark gown peeked from underneath, regal even in the drudgery of housework.

"Oi… you okay?" Naruto finally asked, still blinking in disbelief.

She didn't answer. Instead, she brought her hands together in a swift, sharp seal.

"Summoning Jutsu."

A puff of smoke burst in the corner of the room.

Out slithered a large silver snake with black markings and bright yellow eyes. It blinked, saw Sasuke, then reared slightly.

"Sasuke-sama! What do I owe the pleasur—eh?" It paused, staring. "My lady… are you wearing… an apron?"

"There are a lot of mice here," she said, deadpan.

The snake blinked again. "Okay?"

"I want you to clean it."

"You mean… like… sweep? Or…?"

She looked at it. Not angrily. Not even sternly. Just expectantly. "I want you to eat the mice."

A pause. "You want me to eat the mice?"

"Yes. You have any problem?"

The snake swallowed. "No! Not at all! No problem! I'll, uh… I'll get started right away!"

It slithered off at alarming speed, darting into cracks and crevices that even ANBU wouldn't think to inspect. Hissing quietly to itself, the creature went to war against the rodent population of Naruto's apartment.

Naruto watched in open horror.

"That was… That was a summoned snake. For mice. You're summoning snakes in my house. To… eat mice." He stared at the spot the snake had vanished into. "I live in a house that needs that."

Sasuke gave no comment.

The snake eventually returned, full and sluggish, nodded respectfully at Sasuke, and vanished in a puff.

Still wordless, Sasuke walked through the living room again. She raised a hand and muttered something under her breath. Lightning sparked from her fingertips, precise and sharp as scalpels. She walked past every crack, every shelf, every corner, and with cold precision, electrocuted every cockroach that dared to crawl.

Then, her Rinnegan activated. A ripple formed in her eye. With a lazy flick of her wrist, every dead insect and mouse carcass, every dust bunny, every cobweb, every grime-coated thing clumped together like iron filings drawn to a magnet. The mass hovered in the air like a grotesque bouquet of filth.

Naruto gulped. Even Kurama didn't speak.

Then, without touching a single particle of the mess, Sasuke lowered the mass into a black trash bag, sealed it perfectly, and handed it to Naruto.

"Throw it away," she said simply.

Naruto nodded. Wordlessly. Reverently.

He left the house with the bag, not asking questions. He returned a few minutes later, eyes wide, still quiet. He looked around the apartment. The floors gleamed. The air smelled faintly of citrus and ozone. The air felt lighter. Sasuke was dusting the ceiling now, as if this were normal.

Kurama finally grunted in Naruto's mind. "Your apartment has seen war. Real war. And it lost."

Naruto sat down and stared at Sasuke.

She didn't look like the boy he used to chase across the Valley of the End. She looked like some strange blend of royalty and menace, wearing an apron, a mask, wielding divine power against filth.

Naruto whispered, half to himself, "This is so terrifying…"

But his apartment had never looked better.

Chapter Text

Friends

At noon's fading glow, a knock echoed through the door.

Naruto shuffled over, still in his undersized t-shirt, hair tousled, eyes half-dazed from the relentless morning of snake-cleaning and mouse-massacres.

He opened the door—only to be greeted by an overenthusiastic blur of green.

"CONGRATULATIONS, MY YOUTHFUL COMRADE!" Rock Lee shouted, eyes brimming with passionate tears. "MARRIAGE IS THE TRUEST FORM OF YOUTHFUL BOND!"

"Ugh—Lee, personal space—" Naruto was pulled into a nearly bone-breaking hug.

Behind Lee, others trickled in like an unexpected festival.

Choji stepped inside with a grin, followed by Kiba and Akamaru, Shino in his usual silence, and Shikamaru, who looked like someone had blackmailed him into coming. Even Sakura, despite her hospital shifts, arrived in civilian clothes, a polite smile on her lips. Ino was chatting animatedly with Tenten as they entered last.

Within minutes, the small living room transformed into a packed gathering. Some friends took to the couch, others dragged the mismatched kitchen chairs into the room. The air was thick with laughter, familiarity, and just the right amount of mischief.

Naruto and Sasuke were nudged—rather forcibly—into the center of attention.

Sasuke sat elegantly with her dark gown flowing around her, her bangs artfully obscuring her left eye. The mask and apron were long gone, but the aura of quiet control still radiated from her. Naruto, however, looked like a deer caught in an explosive tag.

Kiba grinned. "Yo, Sasuke, gotta say—you look like a real housewife."

Naruto nearly choked. Sasuke merely blinked.

Kiba continued, undeterred, "That getup? The quiet vibe? Honestly, it suits you. Gives off… I dunno, domestic dominance."

Lee leaned forward, beaming. "Did you two have an eventful first night of marital exploration?"

Naruto froze.

The color drained from his face. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Stammered, "I—uh—it's not like—uh—what exploration—?"

"Ohhh!" Kiba leaned back, howling. "So you did the deed, huh? No longer a vir—"

SMACK!

Ino had slammed her hand down on his head.

"Idiot!" she hissed. "That is not something you ask!"

Sakura, sighing, gave a tired smile. "Sorry, Naruto. Kiba's mouth runs faster than his brain."

Sasuke, utterly calm, said smoothly, "Naruto slept on the couch."

Dead silence.

Shino, after an awkward moment, cleared his throat. "Ah. Still a virgin, I see."

Kiba nodded sagely. "Makes sense. I was wondering why you two weren't envelopeed in each other's scent…"

Everyone turned.

"…Envelopeed?" Shikamaru muttered.

Sasuke ignored them.

"Anyway," Shino continued in his quiet monotone, "The apartment looks… unusually clean."

"Oh—yeah," Naruto rubbed his neck, "Sasuke cleaned the whole thing this morning."

A few heads turned toward her.

Ino gasped dramatically. "Wait—you cleaned yourself?! Sasuke, girl, no makeup and cleaning on your first day as a bride?! This is a travesty!"

Sakura chimed in, arms crossed. "She's right. You don't even have any foundation on! You're a newlywed! That's unacceptable."

"No need," Sasuke said.

"But—"

"No need," she said again, calm but firm.

A beat passed.

"So…" Kiba piped up. "Aren't you gonna give us something to eat? We're, y'know… guests?"

Ino turned to him with the force of a hurricane. "KIBA! That's so rude! Apologize, you mutt!"

Naruto was already pushing himself up, rubbing his stomach awkwardly. "I guess I could bring out some ramen—"

"No."

Sasuke stood.

She walked past him, fluid as water, her bare feet silent on the clean floor. Her gown brushed lightly as she turned toward the kitchen.

"I'll do it."

As she walked away, Kiba sighed, "You know, some people are using stories written by the author without getting the permission to use it. Like uploading videos with sloppy voiceover. The author hasn't given permission to anyone to use their stories. If you're listening to this, this means that it is stolen. Report the channel and tell the uploader to take the videos down."

Ino blinked. "The hell are you talking about, Kiba?"

Kiba shook his head. "I don't know, I felt like something took over me."

Everyone laughed.

—T~T—

Everyone stared like deer before high-beam jutsus as Sasuke moved through Naruto's shoddy excuse of a kitchen with elegant precision. Dressed in her dark gown, face unreadable, she manipulated the microwave, water heater, and lack of proper utensils with the stoicism of a battle-hardened general facing logistical catastrophe.

At times, when the microwave sparked or the water heater whined, she casually formed a seal and used a mild Fire Release or Rinnegan ability to finish what outdated technology couldn't. It was cooking, yes—but with the same air one used when disarming a bomb. Calm. Exact. Borderline terrifying.

Choji had migrated closest to the kitchen, nostrils twitching as he tried to decipher what was being made. "Smells... cheesy?" he muttered.

Shikamaru, in stark contrast, was snoring lightly with his head resting comfortably in Ino's lap. The two looked disgustingly peaceful in the middle of this social minefield.

Sasuke stopped for a moment, noticing the weight of a dozen eyes burning a hole through her back.

She didn't turn. "What," she said plainly, "are you all staring at?"

Immediately, every head snapped away with exaggerated nonchalance.

"Oh, so, uh—about yesterday's wedding ceremony—" Kiba faked a chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah!" Lee chimed in far too quickly, wiping sweat. "It was very youthful!"

TenTen, curious and not particularly bothered by Sasuke's subtle threat of ocular death, leaned forward. "So… are you still Sasuke Uchiha? Or are you Sasuke Uzumaki now?"

Naruto blinked and rubbed his temple. "Sasuke Uchiha," he said.

"Eh? But isn't she your legal wife?" Ino asked, brow lifted.

Shikamaru yawned, cracking an eye open. "Both Uchiha and Uzumaki are near-extinct clans. They're allowed to keep their surnames, especially if there's a plan to revive them."

"Ah, that makes sense." TenTen nodded. "So which name do the kids get?"

Naruto immediately choked on air. "W-What?! Why are you asking that?!"

Lee raised a hand like he was still in class. "If the child has Sharingan potential, they're Uchiha, right?"

Sakura crossed her arms and spoke with the ease of a medic who'd studied genetics. "Correct. If they inherit the Uchiha traits, especially the dojutsu, they're marked Uchiha. If not, they'd go under Uzumaki to preserve balance."

"What if they're all Uchiha?" Choji asked, clearly trying to mask the real question: Can I get seconds later?

"What if they're all Uzumaki?" Ino added, raising a brow.

Shikamaru grunted. "The marriage contract says they're obligated to keep trying until both lines are represented."

A collective pause filled the room.

"…That's torture!" Lee exclaimed, appalled. "Poor Sasuke-chan's body won't be able to bear that kind of pressure for years on end—!"

"Eat," came the cold, deadly voice.

Sasuke stood there, her Sharingan spinning lazily, tray in hand.

She had made a pizza—though it looked too precise, too deadly symmetrical to be called that by casual standards. Every topping was cut at an exact angle. The slices were already served in perfect triangles. The aroma, however, was divine.

No one said a word as they took their share.

Choji looked reverently at the slice as if it were sacred.

Kiba tried to mumble something, but under Sasuke's unwavering gaze, it died in his throat.

Lee ate with all the solemnity of a man who had witnessed a battlefield.

Naruto stared at his slice, then at her. "Uh… thanks."

Her eyes flicked to him. She said nothing.

They all ate in the kind of silence usually reserved for funerals or meetings with the Hokage after doing something stupid.

Uncomfortable? Definitely.

Delicious? Also yes.

Sasuke returned to the kitchen, back to slicing what looked like a second batch of pizza dough.

Naruto slowly chewed his food, sneaking a glance at her.

Kurama stirred in his mind, whispering, She makes better pizza than Ichiraku makes ramen… Be afraid, Naruto. Be very afraid.

He took another bite.

And swallowed hard.

—T~T—

TenTen crossed her arms, frowning as she surveyed the cracked walls, the half-dead plant in the corner, the stained couch that looked like it had seen five Shinobi Wars. "You two need a better place to stay. This apartment's... rubbish."

Naruto blinked, genuinely confused. "Why? It's nice—cozy!"

"It isn't," half the room chorused before anyone could stop themselves.

"It's falling apart," Ino added, wrinkling her nose.

"I'm surprised the ceiling didn't collapse during your wedding night," Kiba muttered, earning a slap from Sakura again.

Naruto puffed his cheeks. "Tch. I lived here for years. It's not that bad!"

Sasuke didn't say a word. She simply glanced at the peeling wallpaper, the worn-out tatami, the rust-colored spot near the bathroom that suspiciously looked like blood.

"You're just being dramatic," Naruto huffed, crossing his arms.

"No. You're being reckless," Sasuke said flatly. "This place isn't livable. There's no storage, no working stove, no ventilation, no insulation in winter, rats, roaches, and no furniture."

"I've managed just fine!"

"You also drink tap water straight from the pipe."

"It builds character!"

"You tried to microwave rice in a paper bag yesterday."

"That was an experiment!"

The room watched them volley back and forth like a tennis match of logic and stubbornness. Naruto's cheeks puffed more. Sasuke's voice grew icier with each sentence. But eventually—

Naruto faltered.

Her eyes met his—calm, unwavering. Not angry, not sharp. Just tired. And that was worse.

He sighed and looked away.

"…Okay. Fine. We'll look for another place."

Sasuke didn't gloat. She just sipped the glass of water she had summoned and sat back down like the argument never happened.

Choji perked up. "I know good dealers! I've got connections in the housing scene—discounts for friends of the Akimichi!"

"And I can supply durable furniture!" Lee said, giving a proud thumbs-up. "Nothing that breaks under youthful passion or combat!"

Naruto blinked. "Uh… thanks. That's cool and all but... I'm only 17. I've only got, like, 34,000 ryō saved."

The room blinked at him.

"What?!" Ino screeched. "Aren't you the hero who saved the entire world?! Aren't you rich or something?!"

Naruto scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Well… I can't inherit the Uzumaki clan fortune or my dad's money until I turn 18. And the same goes for the war-time rewards and diplomatic payments."

"That's complete bullshit!" Kiba snapped.

Naruto shrugged, defeated. "Sandaime Jiji thought I wasn't... uh... the wisest spender. So he had the inheritance locked until I'm of age."

"And Granny Tsunade said the same for the Shinobi Alliance reward," he added, sighing. "Said I'd spend it all on ramen and plastic frogs."

Shikamaru snorted awake at that. "I mean… yeah."

"So what now?" Choji asked, finishing his second slice.

There was a pause.

TenTen spoke up again, hesitating a little this time. "You know… you could live in the Uchiha clan compound. It's been empty for ten years now. Plenty of space. Quiet. Private."

And then—silence.

The word Uchiha compound hit the air like a dropped kunai in a funeral hall.

Sasuke didn't move. Her shoulders remained squared, back straight, eyes distant. Naruto's lips parted slightly, watching her.

That place... was where it all ended. Where everything was lost. Where blood dried on the walls and silence swallowed the screams.

It wasn't a home. Not anymore.

Naruto finally broke the silence, voice steady.

"No," he said. "We're not going anywhere where Sasuke's uncomfortable."

Sasuke didn't speak. But something in her expression shifted. The slightest dip of her chin. Maybe gratitude. Maybe something else.

Then, to break the tension, Choji leaned in with great solemnity and said, "So… uh... do we have more pizza?"

Sasuke didn't even blink. "We're out of ingredients."

Choji slumped like someone had hit him with a paralysis jutsu.

Naruto, sensing the mood, got up and went to the fridge. "I've got some cold drinks at least."

He returned with what little he had—two bottles of old lemonade and some expired cola—and handed them around.

And as they drank in awkward silence, surrounded by peeling wallpaper and a barely functioning microwave, they all quietly agreed on one thing:

This marriage was going to be very, very interesting.

—T~T—

Evening draped itself softly over the village, casting golden shadows across the worn floorboards of the small apartment. The muffled sounds of children playing far off, the lazy flapping of a bird's wings, the hush of dusk.

Naruto had just returned from training, all sweat and chakra and that stupid grin that still made him look like a boy—until he peeled off his shirt and walked past the living room in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips.

Sasuke sat on the couch with a book open, eyes locked on the same paragraph for ten minutes now. She told herself she wouldn't look. She wouldn't. Absolutely not.

She did not look.

...But she felt.

Felt the shift in the air, the heat on her cheeks, the utterly infuriating awareness that a half-naked Naruto was less than three feet away, flopped down on the couch like he owned the place—like she wasn't fighting to keep her expression neutral behind the worn pages of a philosophy book.

With a grin, Naruto made two shadow clones—one that immediately began grumbling while scrubbing a pile of dirty laundry, and another who sat behind him, massaging his shoulders like a tired feudal lord.

"This is the life," the original sighed, stretching, water droplets still clinging to his hair.

The clone behind him muttered, "You could've at least dried off first—your back's slippery like a frog—"

Sasuke turned a page she hadn't read, book practically touching her nose now.

Then one of the clones walked past her, towel slung the wrong way, talking casually to the original—his hip dangerously close to her face.

That was it.

Sasuke abruptly stood up, the book slipping a little from her fingers as she accidentally bumped into the wall with a sharp thud, causing the Narutos to blink mid-conversation.

"Uh—Sasuke? You okay—"

She didn't answer, just raised a single hand—a curt, don't-follow-me kind of gesture—then walked stiffly to the bedroom, her cheeks glowing a pink she desperately hoped they hadn't seen.

The Narutos exchanged glances.

"…What was that?" one clone whispered.

The other shrugged. "I think we broke her."

"…Huh."

The original scratched his cheek sheepishly. Then they all went back to their tasks—though a little quieter now.

And Sasuke, behind the bedroom door, sat on the edge of the bed, took a deep breath, and whispered to herself:

"This is going to be hell."

—T~T—

Dinner was quiet—until Naruto, chewing on a mouthful of miso-grilled tofu, broke the silence.

"I've been thinking," he said, scratching his cheek. "About buying a house."

Sasuke glanced at him but said nothing.

"I mean," Naruto continued, "I don't got much money right now, and—well—I don't want you giving me money. That's just… not how it's supposed to go. You know, tradition says the guy provides the housing."

Sasuke placed her chopsticks down, precise and quiet. "I have a better option."

"Oh? You know a cheap estate or—?"

"I can accept staying in the Uchiha clan compounds."

Naruto froze. "What? Wait—why? I mean, I thought you didn't—"

"If I do not claim my rightful property," she said calmly, "it will automatically be transferred to the village. Renovated into public housing. A few more years of inactivity and they'll strip it clean."

He blinked. "But... the memories. That place…"

"I know." Her eyes didn't flinch. "But I must learn to live with my past. That land, those walls—they are my birthright. I refuse to surrender them."

A long pause. Then Naruto gave a nod, quiet. "I see… Well, I'll talk with Kakashi-sensei. He'll get the papers sorted."

They finished the meal slowly, the heavy topic sitting between them, softened only by the clinking of dishes. Naruto, always one to move past gloom with a question, asked, "So, uh… what kinda stuff do you need? Clothes? Toothbrush? Stuff for your hair? I got coupons."

Sasuke didn't answer right away. In truth, she was down to two pairs of old underwear. Pads? None. Her cycle was due in four days, and the thought haunted her like a slow-approaching storm. But she couldn't ask Naruto for those. And asking Ino or Sakura? That'd be worse than dying.

"My mother's clothes fit me perfectly," she said finally, voice even. "They are comfortable. In excellent condition. I do not need anything else."

Naruto looked a little doubtful. "Well… alright. But seriously, if you need anything—anything—just say it, okay?"

She nodded once. "Fine."

Dinner ended. Dishes cleaned, air a little lighter than before.

Then Sasuke returned from the bedroom, placing a pillow silently on the couch.

"Thanks," Naruto said. "I'll—"

"I'm sleeping here."

Naruto blinked. "What? Why?"

She gave him a flat look. "You are too large for the couch. It will ruin your back."

He grinned. "So, what, you're gonna take the noble sacrifice and sleep curled up on this thing instead?"

"I sleep perfectly well in any conditions."

"But you're tiny."

"I am not tiny."

"You're like—five foot six."

"My mother was taller," she said, standing with the composure of a queen denied her throne. "And I will be tall too. Just in time."

Naruto snorted. "I'll mark my calendar."

Sasuke tossed a pillow at his face. He laughed.

And somewhere in the silence after, neither of them noticed the warmth settling into the air. Not comfort, not yet. But a fragile something that might someday become home.

Chapter Text

Accidental Touch

Dinner was quiet—until Naruto, chewing on a mouthful of miso-grilled tofu, broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, scratching his cheek. “About buying a house.”

Sasuke glanced at him but said nothing.

“I mean,” Naruto continued, “I don’t got much money right now, and—well—I don’t want you giving me money. That’s just… not how it’s supposed to go. You know, tradition says the guy provides the housing.”

Sasuke placed her chopsticks down, precise and quiet. “I have a better option.”

“Oh? You know a cheap estate or—?”

“I can accept staying in the Uchiha clan compounds.”

Naruto froze. “What? Wait—why? I mean, I thought you didn’t—”

“If I do not claim my rightful property,” she said calmly, “it will automatically be transferred to the village. Renovated into public housing. A few more years of inactivity and they’ll strip it clean.”

He blinked. “But... the memories. That place…”

“I know.” Her eyes didn’t flinch. “But I must learn to live with my past. That land, those walls—they are my birthright. I refuse to surrender them.”

A long pause. Then Naruto gave a nod, quiet. “I see… Well, I’ll talk with Kakashi-sensei. He’ll get the papers sorted.”

They finished the meal slowly, the heavy topic sitting between them, softened only by the clinking of dishes. Naruto, always one to move past gloom with a question, asked, “So, uh… what kinda stuff do you need? Clothes? Toothbrush? Stuff for your hair? I got coupons.”

Sasuke didn’t answer right away. In truth, she was down to two pairs of old underwear. Pads? None. Her cycle was due in four days, and the thought haunted her like a slow-approaching storm. But she couldn’t ask Naruto for those. And asking Ino or Sakura? That’d be worse than dying.

“My mother’s clothes fit me perfectly,” she said finally, voice even. “They are comfortable. In excellent condition. I do not need anything else.”

Naruto looked a little doubtful. “Well… alright. But seriously, if you need anything—anything—just say it, okay?”

She nodded once. “Fine.”

Dinner ended. Dishes cleaned, air a little lighter than before.

Then Sasuke returned from the bedroom, placing a pillow silently on the couch.

“Thanks,” Naruto said. “I’ll—”

“I’m sleeping here.”

Naruto blinked. “What? Why?”

She gave him a flat look. “You are too large for the couch. It will ruin your back.”

He grinned. “So, what, you’re gonna take the noble sacrifice and sleep curled up on this thing instead?”

“I sleep perfectly well in any conditions.”

“But you’re tiny.”

“I am not tiny.”

“You’re like—five foot six.”

“My mother was taller,” she said, standing with the composure of a queen denied her throne. “And I will be tall too. Just in time.”

Naruto snorted. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

Sasuke tossed a pillow at his face. He laughed.

And somewhere in the silence after, neither of them noticed the warmth settling into the air. Not comfort, not yet. But a fragile something that might someday become home.

—T~T—

Naruto woke with a jolt—not to the usual blaring sun piercing through the threadbare curtains, nor to his stomach growling for instant ramen, but to the sound of someone shouting.

It wasn’t loud—more a strangled cry, muffled like a scream pressed behind clenched teeth. But it was enough.

Kurama?

No response. The Kyuubi, it seemed, had curled up into the deeper corners of his mind, resting after a night of peace. Naruto blinked, rubbed his eyes, and climbed down from the warm bed, the cool floor sending a shiver up his spine. He reached for the door handle and quietly opened it.

What he saw made his stomach twist.

There, on the couch in the dim blue wash of pre-dawn light, was Sasuke—no longer asleep but caught in some nightmare’s cruel grip. Her body thrashed, a sheen of cold sweat glistening on her brow. Her bangs stuck to her forehead, and her limbs kicked against invisible foes. Her voice cracked with pain—guttural, raw, something that sounded like No! or maybe Stop it!

“Sasuke!” Naruto hurried to her side.

He reached for her but hesitated. She was flailing violently, her hand twitching as if reaching for a sword. Then her fingers clenched into fists, her knees curling toward her chest, then kicking out with force that could’ve knocked a grown man over. For a second, Naruto feared she might wake with a Chidori.

But instinct overrode caution.

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close. She fought him for a moment, her breath ragged, her muscles coiled like a drawn bow. Naruto didn’t flinch. He did the only thing that had ever worked for him, the only comfort he had known on nights when nightmares of loneliness, rejection, and screaming villagers had left him cold and broken. He hugged her. Fully, warmly.

He wrapped both arms around her and drew her in, cradling her against his chest. “It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against her temple. “It’s just a dream. You’re safe. I’m here…”

He let his chakra seep out gently, that golden warmth that felt like sunlight through clouds. Slowly, slowly, he stroked her head—messy from sleep and slick with sweat—just like Jiraiya used to do when Naruto was a kid, lost in nightmares of red eyes and bloody streets. He wasn’t sure if it was his voice, his chakra, or the sheer physical comfort, but gradually, Sasuke stopped fighting.

Her breathing eased into soft, uneven hiccups.

She was crying.

Still asleep, but crying, her face pressed to his chest. Naruto felt the tremble in her body melt into stillness. Her legs, wrapped awkwardly around his waist, slid down but didn’t release him. Her arms were tight around his torso. And her face—warm, flushed, damp—rested just below his shoulder, soft breaths ghosting over his neck.

It took him nearly half an hour in that position before he dared to breathe properly again.

That’s when it hit him.

He was sitting on the hard floor, back sore, legs going numb, and Sasuke—his best friend, his newlywed wife, the same person who once nearly skewered him with a Chidori at the Valley of the End—was wrapped around him like a child clinging to warmth after a thunderstorm.

There was no nosebleed. But he was definitely sweating.

Her body was warm and light, yet oddly firm. Something soft pressed against his chest—he didn’t look. He wouldn’t. He was a good guy, not a pervert like Jiraiya or Kakashi-sensei. And besides, this was Sasuke. The fact that she was a girl now didn’t change the fifteen years of shouting “teme” and being punched in the gut.

Still… his mind whispered, she smells nice.

Naruto blinked hard. No. Focus.

Very slowly, he summoned two gentle golden chakra arms from his back. He tried to move her without waking her. One arm supported her head. The other lifted her hips gently off his lap. She stirred, once, murmuring something he couldn’t catch.

“Shh,” Naruto whispered. “It’s just me…”

Eventually, with careful maneuvering and no small effort, he eased her back onto the couch. She turned in her sleep, as if to chase his warmth, and her hand caught his wrist. Then her grip tightened like a vice.

Naruto stared at the hand locked around his arm.

“Oh, come on…” he muttered.

She wouldn’t let go.

With a sigh, he sat back down beside the couch, resigned. He shifted slightly to find a position that didn’t kill his tailbone and leaned back. Her breathing remained steady, her grip firm but no longer desperate.

Naruto looked at her face.

Even in sleep, there was a line between her brows, a small frown etched in place. Whatever dreams had taken hold of her earlier, they hadn’t completely let go. Her features looked softer in the dim light. Less like the stoic avenger, more like the vulnerable girl she'd become, scarred by too many ghosts, too many goodbyes, too many betrayals.

What happened in that dream? he wondered. Was it about her clan? Her brother? The war?

He wanted to ask. But not tonight. Not like this.

So instead, he let his head rest back against the edge of the couch. The quiet room, filled only with the distant sound of morning birds outside and Sasuke’s soft breathing, soon pulled at his own exhaustion. He closed his eyes.

The last thing he felt before drifting off was the warmth of her fingers, still clinging to his wrist.

When the first rays of dawn crept through the window, golden and soft, they lit the room with a kind of tenderness. Naruto stirred, groaning lightly as he shifted on the hard floor.

Sasuke was still asleep on the couch, though her brow was smoother now, her breathing deep and calm. His hand—numb and tingling—was still in her grip, though her fingers had relaxed.

Naruto looked at her again, not as the rival who once abandoned the village, not as the last Uchiha, and not even as his weirdly-dressed wife. Just Sasuke.

She didn’t flinch in her sleep anymore.

And he? He didn’t feel so cold inside.

“Good morning, teme,” he whispered with a crooked grin.

And for once, he didn’t mind the silence that followed.

—T~T—

Sasuke awoke with a warm weight nestled in her arms. She blinked lazily at the faint rays of morning sunlight filtering through the dusty curtains. Her cheek pressed against something firm but soft—warmer than a pillow. It smelled... oddly nice. Like cedar and summer and sweat, but not unpleasant. In fact, she nuzzled it, instinctively drawing it closer. Her legs had wrapped around it at some point during the night, and her arms had coiled tight, holding it like a precious relic.

A slow, blissful breath left her.

Then the realization hit her like a kunai to the ribs.

This wasn’t a pillow.

She snapped her eyes open.

And there he was—Naruto Uzumaki—just six inches from her face, his expression caught between sheepish confusion and terror. His entire right arm was trapped between her thighs and chest, his other hand awkwardly splayed on the floor where he’d clearly passed out. His blue eyes widened. “You’re awake—”

She didn’t let him finish.

With an explosive burst of chakra, she kicked him across the room like a ragdoll. Naruto flew in a magnificent arc, flailing wildly before crashing into the far wall of the bedroom, landing on the bed with a thud. The bed, miraculously, didn’t break.

He groaned, dazed. “Wh-why are you trying to kill me!?”

“Oh, right,” he muttered to himself. “That.”

From the couch, Sasuke's voice erupted. “You damn pervert!”

In a flash, she was on top of him—her body weight slamming him back against the mattress. Her synthetic bandaged arm gripped his throat, pinning him with alarming force. She straddled him, fury blazing in her mismatched eyes. “How dare you grope me in your sleep?! You degenerate! You think I wouldn’t notice?! I will kill you—!”

Naruto thrashed under her grip, his hands scrabbling for her wrist. “Sasuke! I swear I wasn’t doing anything weird! I was trying to help! Honest!”

But she was impossibly strong in this moment, rage and embarrassment fueling every ounce of chakra in her body. Her Sharingan spun wildly, and the Rinnegan in her other eye glowed with murder.

“I swear on Ramen, Sasuke!” Naruto gasped, turning red from more than just proximity. “I didn’t mean to grab you!”

The death grip on his throat eased—just a little. She blinked at him, her brows furrowing. “Then explain why your hand was between my limbs and torso?”

Naruto sucked in a breath. “You—you had a nightmare last night,” he choked out. “You were thrashing and screaming... so I calmed you down. I hugged you to soothe your chakra. You grabbed my hand and wouldn’t let go. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I waited... and I guess I fell asleep too.”

Silence.

The kind that rang like a dropped kunai.

Sasuke stared at him. Her anger cracked, just slightly. She remembered something… voices in her dream, a warmth that chased the cold away, fingers stroking her hair. She remembered someone murmuring, “You’re safe… I’m here…”

A pang of shame coiled in her gut.

He had helped her.

She’d accused him unjustly.

But then—did he see her like that? Crying? Clutching him like some helpless child?

Her eye twitched. That was even worse.

Sasuke swallowed down the molten ball of embarrassment rising in her throat. She looked away sharply, trying to maintain her pride. “I see.”

“Uh…” Naruto’s voice was barely audible beneath her. “So… maybe you can get off me now?”

She scowled. “You’re acting like I’m heavy.”

“No, not at all! You're like, really... ninja-light!” he stammered, then paused. “It’s just…”

Then it happened.

Something.

Brushed.

Against her thigh.

A slow moment passed.

Sasuke froze.

Her eyes traveled down.

Her face went scarlet.

Her gaze snapped back up to Naruto, whose eyes were now full of horror, dread, and very clear pleading.

“No. No, no—don’t—Sasuke—don’t activate the—!”

Her Sharingan spun.

Her Rinnegan flared.

“You degenerate pervert!!!”

“It’s a normal reflex!” Naruto yelped, pure panic in his voice. “It’s natural! It’s hormones! IT’S NOT THE CHIDORI, SASUKE, PLEASE—!”

Lightning surged in her palm.

Naruto screamed.

The neighbors would later say they heard a boom, like thunder clapping in the middle of a cloudless morning.

A burnt scorch mark marred the ceiling above Naruto’s bed.

Sasuke sat on the far side of the bed with her arms crossed, wrapped in a blanket of righteous fury, cheeks still faintly pink.

Naruto was hanging halfway off the mattress, twitching, his blond hair frizzed from static.

“I should have let you suffocate,” she muttered.

“I helped you…” he wheezed, smoke drifting from his mouth.

“I should have suffocated you slower.”

“Y’know,” he coughed. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Shut up, Uzumaki.”

Naruto groaned and flopped fully onto the bed, one hand over his face.

“And put something on before you get arrested for indecent exposure,” she added, nose wrinkling. “You’re walking around like some steaming hot ramen bowl with no lid.”

“That’s oddly specific,” Naruto mumbled.

Sasuke crossed her legs tightly and huffed, turning her face away. “Just… keep your distance from now on.”

He peeked through his fingers. “So you’re not sleeping on the couch again?”

She hesitated. Then—very, very quietly—she muttered, “…It wasn’t that uncomfortable.”

Naruto blinked. “Huh?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Naruto smiled faintly, despite the burns. “Alright.”

She rose to her feet and headed for the door, hiding her face behind her bangs. “Get dressed and make breakfast, idiot. You owe me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Naruto croaked, rubbing his throat.

As the door closed behind her, the apartment fell into a fragile hush.

Naruto laid back and sighed at the ceiling.

He almost died, but somehow…

That counted as progress.

—T~T—

The morning was modest. The kind where the sun lazily spilled through smudged glass panes and the breeze teased the thin kitchen curtains just enough to remind you it was alive. In the small apartment, Naruto stood barefoot in the kitchen, carefully preparing the simplest breakfast known to mankind—jelly on warm bread. His tongue stuck out slightly in concentration as he tried to layer the jelly without tearing the toast.

And then, in the back of his mind, he began.

"How did you not call me?! Watching an Uchiha in the throes of a nightmare is rarer than a white crow eating dango on a pink moon!"

Naruto flinched, nearly dropping the jar of jelly. Kurama.

"I did call you," Naruto muttered internally, his voice dry. "You didn’t respond. Probably asleep. Again."

"Excuses! What a disgrace. Tell me—did she cry? Did she beg? Did her noble pride shatter like glass?" Kurama's voice held the glee of a child taunting an anthill with a magnifying glass.

"Shut up, Furball."

"Tch. You’ve gone soft. Beta. Maybe you always were."

"Not that stupid alpha talk again—"

"You let her sleep on your arm. You cuddled her. Then you drooled over her like some hormonally-overcharged mutt when she pinned you down on the bed. You moaned, didn't you?"

"I did not moan!" Naruto hissed aloud—quiet, but just loud enough for the walls to catch.

"Tell that to your dick," Kurama drawled smugly.

"It was a reflex, dammit! Hormones. Teenager. Natural biological function!"

"Disgusting. I expected better. You're the container of the mightiest chakra beast in the world—and you’re a slave now. Her slave. Sasuke’s toy."

Naruto gritted his teeth, his whole body tense.

"You fucking bastard—!"

“Naruto.”

He spun.

Sasuke stood by the kitchen door, steam still curling off her shoulders from the shower, damp hair plastered against the sides of her face. She wore a simple black T-shirt and shorts that hung just past her thighs, legs bare, arms folded.

Her expression was unreadable—except for the faint, lingering glare in her eyes. That, he caught.

She said nothing. Just walked up to the counter, snatched both of the jelly sandwiches from the plate, and turned on her heel.

Naruto’s stomach gave a despairing rumble as she vanished toward the balcony.

"Just like a slave," Kurama said with vicious satisfaction.

Naruto let his head fall against the cabinet. Thunk.

Out on the narrow balcony, Sasuke perched on the old wooden chair like a sullen raven, legs tucked under her as she held the two sandwiches like they were sacred offerings. The early air nipped her damp skin, but she didn’t care. She took a bite. Then another. Then a bigger one.

Nom. Nom. Nom.

It tasted good. Shamefully so.

She chewed aggressively, as though punishing the bread. Her mind, however, was a frenzied whirlwind.

How dare he do something so disgusting?

That memory still burned under her skin. Waking up to his hand—his body—his face right there. The heat, the weight, the feeling of something...

Her face turned a brilliant shade of red as she bit down even harder on the sandwich.

It wasn’t like she hated it.

That was the worst part.

The sensation had caught her off guard. It had been strange, alien—and yet oddly satisfying in a way that made her chest flutter and her stomach flip. It had stirred something deep and inconvenient. Something she was not prepared to examine.

Her cheeks puffed with irritation.

No, no, no, she shook her head, taking another fierce bite. It was disgusting. Utterly inappropriate. He’s an idiot. That’s all there is to it.

Nom.

And that moan?

Nom.

No, wait, there was no moan.

She paused.

Was there a moan...?

Sasuke silently screamed and furiously shook her head again. Her hair flared as if charged with lightning. The sandwich in her hand was now trembling. Her appetite warred with her pride.

She shoved the rest into her mouth, chewing with thunderous judgment.

Behind her, through the cracked door, she could hear Naruto sighing and the sound of drawers opening.

Inside, Naruto rummaged through the cabinets with the solemn desperation of a man defeated by fate and jelly theft. There were only two packets of instant ramen left, and he wanted to save those for lunch or maybe dinner. He had some leftover rice and a wilted tomato. Not much to work with.

And Kurama was still talking.

"You could’ve at least fought back. But no, you just let her straddle you and got excited. Pathetic."

"You weren’t there," Naruto grumbled. "She was on fire. Her eyes were glowing like doom incarnate. I thought I was gonna die!"

"And instead of defending yourself, you swooned like a schoolgirl with a crush."

Naruto shut the drawer with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t have a crush on her.”

Kurama's silence was deafening.

Then: "You keep telling yourself that."

Naruto rested both hands on the counter, head down. “I’m not ready for this.”

"Clearly. She’s already the dominant one. She eats your food. Burns your bed. Electrocutes you. And you’re still asking if she needs more clothes.”

“Shut up, Kurama.”

Behind him, the door creaked again.

Naruto turned.

Sasuke walked in, empty plate in hand, licking the last of the jelly from her fingers with mechanical precision, avoiding his gaze.

Naruto opened his mouth to say something, but she spoke first.

“…Thank you.”

He blinked.

“What?”

She placed the plate in the sink and turned, her arms now folded across her chest, face calm—too calm. “For the sandwich.”

He nodded, a little wary. “Sure. Uh… no problem.”

“And,” she added, after a beat, “for last night.”

Naruto rubbed the back of his neck. “You mean the nightmare?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

There was a long silence.

She moved past him toward the hallway but paused, one hand on the wall. Her face was mostly turned away.

“And I didn’t mean to… overreact this morning. It’s just…” She swallowed her words, her expression unreadable again. “Don’t get used to it.”

Naruto chuckled lightly. “I’m already afraid of sleeping again. Believe it.”

She nodded once and vanished into her room.

Naruto exhaled.

Kurama sighed too—begrudgingly. "Maybe… maybe she’s not entirely terrible."

Naruto smiled to himself and turned back to the fridge.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe neither of us are.”

—T~T—

Naruto left the apartment in his usual whirlwind fashion, a mess of hair and orange and boundless chatter. He was heading to the academy for another of Iruka-sensei's post-war lectures—a special mentoring program Kakashi had guilt-tripped him into attending, claiming it was good for the future Hokage to help shape the next generation.

“Be back in a few hours!” he called over his shoulder, feet already halfway out the window instead of the door.

Sasuke didn’t even look up from the book in her lap. “Don’t break your neck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” came the distant echo, and then he was gone.

Silence returned to the apartment like a blanket. Sasuke stared at the page she'd been stuck on for the last seven minutes. Some dull, overly poetic sentence about leaves and wind and the peace of a quiet morning. She closed the book with a sigh.

Her stomach grumbled once—then tightened oddly. A low ache settled in her lower abdomen. She stilled.

“Of course,” she muttered.

It was coming. That time of the month. Her cycle always hit with clinical precision.

She stood slowly, testing the pull in her body. Yes, she had about two days until the real pain started—but that didn’t mean she could delay the preparations.

Unfortunately, she was painfully under-equipped.

She rifled through her bag, then the drawer, confirming what she already suspected. Not a single pad or tampon to be found. She had precisely two pairs of old underwear, and neither were designed to handle this situation with dignity. Normally she’d use tampons—more discreet and better for a Kunoichi’s lifestyle—but with the budget Naruto had, she had to be realistic. Pads were cheaper. Two packs should suffice for now.

Sasuke bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to ask Naruto for money. Pride wouldn’t let her. But she did find a couple of bills in one of the drawers—notes left over from his last errand run. It wasn’t much, but it would cover a modest purchase.

Unfortunately, she would also need to dip into her own account if she wanted to buy proper undergarments. And that meant a trip to the bank.

She threw on her cloak, slipped into her sandals, and made for the door.

But before she could even open it, a shadow dropped down in front of her.

“Uchiha-san.”

Sasuke didn’t even blink. She looked the ANBU over, unimpressed. “What?”

“You are not permitted to leave the house without an escort. Village protocol.”

“I’m going to the market,” she said, already stepping past him.

“Then I must accompany you.”

She gave him a side glance. “Fine. But don’t trail me like a stalker. Keep ten paces.”

“Acceptable.”

She moved ahead, adjusting the fabric of her cloak and straightening her posture. As she descended the narrow stairwell and stepped out into the village street, she felt more exposed than she wanted to admit.

The market wasn’t far. A fifteen-minute walk at most. But every step felt oddly theatrical.

She tried to blend in, keeping her gait relaxed and her head slightly bowed. Her long bangs helped conceal the telltale glow of her Rinnegan, and she wore gloves over the synthetic bandaged arm. She could do this. She’d faced down mad gods and eldritch beasts. Walking to a shop couldn’t be that difficult.

But then the stares began.

At first, she ignored them. Villagers whispered all the time. It was nothing new. But then she noticed the direction of the whispers. The little nudges. The slow, halting steps of people parting in front of her. The wide-eyed gasps. Children stopping mid-run to tug their mother’s sleeve and point.

Sasuke frowned.

What the hell?

She looked down at herself, thinking maybe her hair was messy or that she’d forgotten to zip something. But then she remembered.

The gown she wore—soft, elegant, flowing in a way that her usual clothes never were—belonged to her mother.

And on the back of it, stitched with bold red and white thread, was the proud Uchiha clan emblem. Unmistakable. Regal. Loud.

Damn it.

She had forgotten that it wasn’t just a fashion statement. In a village still recovering from war, where the memories of the Uchiha massacre and the Fourth Great Ninja War were freshly painted on the soul of Konoha, the emblem was a firebrand. And now it was moving through the market like a ghost returned.

Her shoulders tightened, chin rising instinctively. She didn’t need their approval. Let them look. Let them whisper.

But the ache in her belly reminded her that she had more urgent matters.

She entered the pharmacy first. Rows of herbal tonics, bandages, medicines. She moved with purpose, picked out two modest packs of pads, and quickly paid with the bills she’d found. The cashier tried not to gawk but failed.

“Are you… Sasuke Uchiha?”

She didn’t answer. Just walked out.

The ANBU followed, silent.

The next stop was the bank, and that meant showing ID. Her shinobi registration card was outdated, but it was enough to authorize a small withdrawal. The teller took one look at her name, blanched, and processed the transaction without a word.

Outside again, money in hand, she moved toward the clothing store. That one was trickier. It took her far too long to find plain, decent underwear that didn’t scream ‘teenage girl’ or ‘granny in training.’ She avoided the fancy lace ones entirely. Practicality was priority.

At the checkout, the clerk gave her a strange smile. “You know, it’s nice to see you back, Sasuke-san.”

Sasuke gave a curt nod. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

She paid, bag in hand, and turned to leave. "If you're listening to this, this means the story is stolen. The author didn’t give anyone the permission to use it. Report the channel and video."

The street had become more crowded, the murmurs louder now. She caught fragments of words—“Uchiha… isn’t that Sasuke?” “Didn’t she fight Naruto?” “She looks so different—”

Her jaw clenched. She hated attention. Especially this kind of attention.

But she kept walking. Head high. Emblem and all.

By the time she returned to the apartment, the ANBU shadow vanished as quickly as he’d appeared.

Inside, Sasuke dropped the bags on the kitchen table and slumped into a chair. Her stomach still ached, and she was tired—more mentally than physically. But she had what she needed.

She glanced at the clock. Naruto would be back soon.

And, of course, she’d say nothing about this entire ordeal.

She opened her new package, shoved everything into her drawer, and pulled the curtain shut.

No one needed to know that the proud, stoic Sasuke Uchiha had nearly panicked in public over a monthly biological nuisance and a stitched piece of family pride.

She’d survived worse. She could survive this.

—T~T—

Naruto sat on the floor, legs folded, back already sore, hands supporting his chin as he tried his very best not to fall asleep. Iruka-sensei stood at the blackboard, sketching a rough diagram of the chakra network. A bunch of squiggly lines and dots meant to represent the body’s internal system of spiritual and physical energy flow. To Naruto, it looked more like spaghetti being eaten by ants.

"So," Iruka said with a pointer, tapping the figure's belly, "chakra coils are densely concentrated along the spine and major tenketsu points. That’s why chakra control training usually starts with—"

"Uuuuughhh, I’m dying!" Naruto moaned, leaning so far back he nearly fell over. "This is worse than D-rank missions!"

Iruka chuckled, unfazed. “Come on now, Naruto. If you want to be Hokage, you need to master this stuff. Precision chakra control separates a brute from a true shinobi leader.”

“I already have Kurama's chakra and Sage Mode! I don’t need to know the difference between a third-level coil and a left-kidney point!” he whined.

Iruka raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you think you’ll always have those to rely on?”

Naruto shut his mouth. Iruka had a way of saying things that slapped harder than any Rasengan.

Iruka smiled and leaned against the desk. “By the way... I meant to ask. How’s it going, you and Sasuke?”

Naruto perked up slightly. “Uh... good? I guess. We’re kinda... awkward. She’s being weird. Like, suddenly bossy.”

Iruka tilted his head, amused. “Well, that was inevitable. Women change after marriage.”

Naruto nearly choked. “Bruh, she beat me this morning. And electrocuted me! I’ve got a burn mark near my neck!”

Iruka blinked, suddenly serious. “Wait. What happened? Don’t tell me... Naruto, you weren’t forcing anything on her, were you?”

“WHAT?!” Naruto stood up so fast the floor creaked. “Do I look like a beast to you?!”

Iruka rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. You’re a young man. Hot blood. A little... impulsive. It wouldn’t surprise me if you lost control.”

Naruto sat back down, stiff, jaw clenched. He remembered.

The morning had been chaos. He had woken up with his arm hugged tightly between Sasuke’s legs and torso, a soft warmth and the pressure of her body still lingering in his bones. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep like that. He hadn’t meant to touch her.

And yet...

The moment her thigh brushed against him—Naruto Jr., who had absolutely no moral compass of his own—had... responded.

Just remembering that moment of electricity shooting up his spine made Naruto’s entire face flush beet red. Not just his face. His ears. His neck. Even his arms seemed to blush.

Iruka watched the color rise and frowned. “Naruto?”

Naruto scrambled for words. “A-as if! No way! Sasuke’s my best friend! I can’t think about her in that way, believe it!”

In his head, Kurama groaned.

“Your dick says otherwise. You’re such a masochist. Getting turned on by an Uchiha sitting on you like a throne. Disgraceful.”

Naruto mentally gritted his teeth. Shut up, Furball!

Iruka gave him a long, searching look, then sighed. “Well, just... be careful. She’s been through a lot. Treat her well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Naruto muttered. “I know.”

“Good,” Iruka said with finality. “Now back to the chakra coil lesson—”

Naruto groaned. “Uuuugh.”

“Focus!”

And Naruto slumped forward onto the floor, murmuring, “Kill me now…”

Meanwhile, in the quiet apartment back home, Sasuke sat cross-legged on the couch, nursing a cup of tea and rereading the same page of her book for the third time.

Her thoughts weren’t on the book.

They were on the bed. The morning. Him.

Stupid, stupid Naruto. And his stupid arm. And the stupid way he looked surprised and soft and so warm.

She turned the page, again, not seeing a single word.

Her cheeks warmed.

Idiot.

Chapter Text

Naruto sat on the floor, legs folded, back already sore, hands supporting his chin as he tried his very best not to fall asleep. Iruka-sensei stood at the blackboard, sketching a rough diagram of the chakra network. A bunch of squiggly lines and dots meant to represent the body’s internal system of spiritual and physical energy flow. To Naruto, it looked more like spaghetti being eaten by ants.

"So," Iruka said with a pointer, tapping the figure's belly, "chakra coils are densely concentrated along the spine and major tenketsu points. That’s why chakra control training usually starts with—"

"Uuuuughhh, I’m dying!" Naruto moaned, leaning so far back he nearly fell over. "This is worse than D-rank missions!"

Iruka chuckled, unfazed. “Come on now, Naruto. If you want to be Hokage, you need to master this stuff. Precision chakra control separates a brute from a true shinobi leader.”

“I already have Kurama's chakra and Sage Mode! I don’t need to know the difference between a third-level coil and a left-kidney point!” he whined.

Iruka raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you think you’ll always have those to rely on?”

Naruto shut his mouth. Iruka had a way of saying things that slapped harder than any Rasengan.

Iruka smiled and leaned against the desk. “By the way... I meant to ask. How’s it going, you and Sasuke?”

Naruto perked up slightly. “Uh... good? I guess. We’re kinda... awkward. She’s being weird. Like, suddenly bossy.”

Iruka tilted his head, amused. “Well, that was inevitable. Women change after marriage.”

Naruto nearly choked. “Bruh, she beat me this morning. And electrocuted me! I’ve got a burn mark near my neck!”

Iruka blinked, suddenly serious. “Wait. What happened? Don’t tell me... Naruto, you weren’t forcing anything on her, were you?”

“WHAT?!” Naruto stood up so fast the floor creaked. “Do I look like a beast to you?!”

Iruka rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. You’re a young man. Hot blood. A little... impulsive. It wouldn’t surprise me if you lost control.”

Naruto sat back down, stiff, jaw clenched. He remembered.

The morning had been chaos. He had woken up with his arm hugged tightly between Sasuke’s legs and torso, a soft warmth and the pressure of her body still lingering in his bones. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep like that. He hadn’t meant to touch her.

And yet...

The moment her thigh brushed against him, Naruto Jr., who had absolutely no moral compass of his own—had... responded.

Just remembering that moment of electricity shooting up his spine made Naruto’s entire face flush beet red. Not just his face. His ears. His neck. Even his arms seemed to blush.

Iruka watched the color rise and frowned. “Naruto?”

Naruto scrambled for words. “A-as if! No way! Sasuke’s my best friend! I can’t think about her in that way, believe it!”

In his head, Kurama groaned.

“Your dick says otherwise. You’re such a masochist. Getting turned on by an Uchiha sitting on you like a throne. Disgraceful.”

Naruto mentally gritted his teeth. Shut up, Furball!

Iruka gave him a long, searching look, then sighed. “Well, just... be careful. She’s been through a lot. Treat her well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Naruto muttered. “I know.”

“Good,” Iruka said with finality. “Now back to the chakra coil lesson—”

Naruto groaned. “Uuuugh.”

“Focus!”

And Naruto slumped forward onto the floor, murmuring, “Kill me now…”

Meanwhile, in the quiet apartment back home, Sasuke sat cross-legged on the couch, nursing a cup of tea and rereading the same page of her book for the third time.

Her thoughts weren’t on the book.

They were on the bed. The morning. Him.

Stupid, stupid Naruto. And his stupid arm. And the stupid way he looked surprised and soft and so warm.

She turned the page, again, not seeing a single word.

Her cheeks warmed.

Idiot.

—T~T—

Naruto hadn’t even stepped fully out of the classroom when the stampede began.

“UZUMAKI-SENPAI!”

Dozens of Academy kids swarmed him like a pack of excited squirrels. Some were shouting, some tugging at his sleeve, others jumping up and down with notebooks and pens in hand. The hallway became a flood of chaos with Naruto at its center.

“Show us a kick!”

“Do a spin! You’re the hero of the war!”

“Punch through the wall!”

Naruto sweatdropped. “Eh?! Why would I punch through a wall?! That’s vandalism!”

“But you’re Naruto Uzumaki!” a small boy with a crooked headband shouted. “We saw your fight with Pain in the historical archives!”

“Yeah, yeah! And you did that cool Rasengan jump-kick in the movie version!”

Naruto scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Y’know, that was mostly dramatized…”

But it was too late. He was boxed in by eager eyes and eagerer shouts.

“Alright, alright!” he said, grinning with a defeated shrug. “Watch closely!”

He launched into a few smooth Taijutsu movements, nothing serious, just some fluid kicks, turns, a sweeping leg sweep, and a palm-thrust that stopped an inch from the wall. The kids gasped. A few clapped. One fainted. Overreaction level: 100.

“Senpai’s so cool…”

“Do you train with Lady Sasuke every day?!”

Naruto blinked. “Uh, yeah—well, not every day…”

A loud whisper rippled through the crowd:

“Is it true she calls you darling at home?”

“I heard she calls him Goshujin-sama and makes 18 different ramen flavors for breakfast!”

“She’s a housewife now, right? Always in an apron with a ladle?”

Naruto’s eye twitched. Where the hell were they getting this garbage?

He raised both hands. “Okay, okay: hold up. None of that’s true. We’re just adjusting, alright? It’s complicated. We respect each other’s space and boundaries.”

A long groan came from the crowd.

“So boring…”

“You’re lame, Senpai.”

Naruto tried to laugh it off. “Sorry for being normal?”

A girl in the back, no older than 11, raised her hand innocently. “Do you think Lady Sasuke is sexy?”

Naruto’s brain immediately short-circuited.

“Wha— What kinda question is that?! Who raised you kids?!”

Some of them giggled, others just stared, awaiting an answer like reporters at a press conference.

Luckily, salvation came in the form of a tall figure in a long-sleeved jacket and shades.

“Time for class,” said Shino Aburame, voice calm and utterly monotone.

The kids sighed and shuffled off, clearly disappointed the entertainment portion of their day was over.

Naruto gave a grateful thumbs-up. “Thanks, Shino.”

Shino adjusted his glasses. “You’re lucky I was assigned hall monitoring today. Children are like moths to a flame when it comes to celebrity.”

“Yeah... tell me about it.” Naruto rubbed the back of his neck. “How do you even work here without losing your mind?”

“I raise insects for company.”

Naruto opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded. “Fair.”

With the crowd gone, he finally exhaled and straightened his jacket. “Alright. Time to head to the Hokage’s office.”

As he stepped out of the Academy gates and onto the sunny road, the image of Sasuke’s face flashed in his mind,not the stoic glare she usually gave him, but the look she’d had this morning, sleep-ruffled and furious, straddling him and radiating Rinnegan-infused homicide.

Naruto shook his head hard.

Focus, idiot. You’ve got more important things to worry about. Like speaking to Kakashi-sensei about the Uchiha Clan compounds. Sasuke had finally agreed, and if they didn’t act soon, the place might get swallowed up by Konoha’s ever-hungry urban planners.

He sighed again.

Marriage sure is complicated.

Naruto barged into the Hokage’s office like he always did—no knocking, no warning, just full-volume presence.

“Yo, Kakashi-sensei!”

Inside, Kakashi Hatake sat behind his desk, half-buried in paperwork, as usual. Across from him stood Shikamaru and Temari, mid-discussion with maps and documents spread across the table. Naruto’s hand paused mid-wave as his gaze settled on Temari. His brows drew together.

“…Temari? You’re here again?”

She glanced at him, unimpressed. “Good to see you too, Naruto.”

Naruto blinked. “I mean—you’ve been coming to Konoha like, what, twice a month lately?”

Temari crossed her arms. “It’s called diplomacy. I represent the Kazekage.”

“And Shikamaru’s your… tour guide?” Naruto asked, smirking as he saw the faint blush crawling up Shikamaru’s neck.

Shikamaru coughed, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just my job. Liaisons and whatnot.”

Naruto grinned wider. “Right. Liaisons. Sure. Definitely not personal.”

Temari raised a brow but didn’t deny it. Naruto’s eyes sparkled. He’d been married for only two days, but apparently, that was enough to develop an expert’s intuition.

Still, he didn’t butt in. Whatever diplomatic business they had was above his pay grade right now, and he had something important of his own to discuss. So, he sat on the couch near the back of the room and waited.

To kill time, Naruto wandered over to the tall bookshelf behind Kakashi’s desk. The old wood shelves were loaded with scrolls, logs, historical documents… and, of course, a shrine of thick orange-covered volumes with a red spine: the Icha Icha series. Jiraiya’s legendary perverted masterpieces.

Naruto sighed.

“All of them, huh…” he muttered, trailing a finger across the spines. “You really loved his books, huh, Kakashi-sensei…”

He had copies of his own, Jiraiya had insisted on gifting them to his “godson” as some twisted form of inheritance. Not that Naruto enjoyed reading them. But they were… informative. In weird ways. And occasionally useful when dealing with people like Konohamaru.

Then, with a quiet shuffle, he turned to the row of Hokage portraits above the bookcase.

Hashirama grinned like he was everyone’s uncle. Tobirama scowled like the artist had offended him personally. Hiruzen’s was a photograph, he looked like he’d just caught someone sneaking dango and was proud of it. Naruto’s dad, Minato, smiled nervously, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. And Tsunade—

“Man,” Naruto muttered, “she looks like she’s about to punch someone.”

Kakashi’s own portrait hung above them all, freshly painted. Calm. Simple. 80% of his face was the mask.

“Pretty on-brand,” Naruto said.

“You done judging the dead and emotionally scarred?” Temari asked, drawing his attention.

Naruto turned just as she approached, arms crossed again. She gave him a once-over and then her eyes narrowed at the base of his neck.

“Hm.” She grabbed him by the collar. “Didn’t see this last time.”

Naruto looked confused. “What—?”

Temari smirked. “That burn mark. Real smooth married life, huh?”

She let go, then leaned in slightly. “I always knew you were a little masochist. Guess Lady Sasuke brings it out in you.”

“W-What?!” Naruto spluttered, red-faced.

Temari turned, sauntering toward the door. “I’m telling Gaara.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Already imagining the headline: ‘War Hero Turns Doormat: Uchiha Dominance Confirmed.’”

Shikamaru sighed deeply, muttering, “Troublesome…” before trailing after her.

As the door shut, Naruto flopped onto the couch, groaning. “That woman’s got a scary imagination…”

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. “So. Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Naruto narrowed his eyes.

Kakashi’s visible eye twinkled. “How’s married life, hmm?”

Naruto crossed his arms. “Normal.”

“Any sleepless nights?”

“Define sleepless.”

“Any… heated exchanges?” Kakashi asked, with the tone of someone who definitely wanted the dirty details.

Naruto’s face turned beet red. “W-Why would I tell you that?!”

Kakashi shrugged. “It’s my job to ensure my ninja’s mental stability. And, let’s be honest, I’m your godfather’s best friend. It’s practically a family tradition.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Kakashi nodded solemnly. “So I’ve been told.”

Naruto leaned back, grumbling. “Sasuke nearly killed me this morning. Does that count?”

“I mean, depending on the context—”

“Nope! Not talking about it!”

“Mm-hm.”

“Seriously, it’s weird. She’s… kind of bossy now. Like, she’s always been strict, but this is a whole new level.”

“Well, that was inevitable,” Kakashi said wisely. “Women change after marriage.”

Naruto muttered, “She electrocuted me, sensei…”

Kakashi paused. “...So she’s channeling her grief into lightning jutsu. That’s progress.”

“Is it?!”

“Of course. At least she’s opening up.”

Naruto looked like he was rethinking every choice he’d made in life.

Kakashi chuckled, then pulled a brown folder from the stack on his desk and slid it across the table.

“Anyway,” he said. “I figured you’d come about this sooner or later.”

Naruto blinked. “What’s this?”

Kakashi gestured toward the cover. “Uchiha Clan Compounds. I secured the rights and zoning weeks ago, just in case.”

Naruto stared, stunned. “You… already took care of it?”

Kakashi eye-smiled. “I had a feeling.”

Naruto grabbed the folder and flipped through it. Detailed maps, household inventories, zoning permissions, preservation orders, it was all in order.

“There are forty-seven houses,” Kakashi explained, “including the Naka Shrine and the river district. Everything’s still in excellent condition. You can move in whenever you’re ready.”

Naruto gaped. “You’re amazing, Kakashi-sensei!”

“I know.”

Naruto laughed, loud and genuine, pressing the folder to his chest like it was a treasure.

He thought of Sasuke, her quiet resolve when she offered to reclaim the home she’d once fled. Maybe this was one step closer to healing, for both of them.

Yeah. This would be their start.

—T~T—

The sky outside was painted orange and lilac as Naruto stepped into the dim apartment, tired but light-hearted after the long day. He kicked off his sandals with a lazy hop and glanced around, quiet, still, warm with a strange peace.

His eyes found Sasuke almost instantly.

She sat curled up on the couch, a book in her hand, a soft blue gown draped over her like a second skin. Different from the one this morning: this one was deeper in shade, making her look oddly regal despite the worn-down surroundings. Her hair, dark as raven feathers, shimmered subtly under the faint lamp glow. The scent in the air was unmistakable—jasmine, clean and bright. His brows twitched with interest.

"Hey, Sasuke," he said as he stepped in, pulling off his jacket. "You smell nice. Did you go out today?"

She didn’t look up from her book. “Yes.”

He raised a brow. “Ah. That would explain the jasmine. You bought oil?”

“No. I stole it,” she said blandly.

“What—”

“From the store shelf. Into the cart. Then paid for it. That’s how stealing works.”

Naruto huffed. “Cute. Real funny. You could be a comedian.”

“You’re late,” she said simply, flipping a page.

"Aww," Naruto stepped closer, grinning. "Were you missing me? Such a nice, caring wifey—"

"No," she cut in smoothly. "I’m glad you were late. Keeps the place calm."

“Ouch,” Naruto clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me, my queen.”

She finally looked up, raising an unimpressed brow.

He laughed and reached into his bag. “Okay, okay, I surrender. But! Look what I’ve got!”

He handed her an envelope. Sasuke set the book aside, took the envelope without a word, and opened it.

Her eyes moved over the papers slowly. Then—her breath caught, just slightly. Her fingers tightened on the edge. Her face didn’t betray much, but Naruto had known her long enough to catch that softened gaze, the brief hitch in her breath. It meant something.

“I see,” she murmured, then quietly folded the papers back inside. “We’ll move out tomorrow.”

Naruto blinked. “Wait, already? Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“But—” he looked around the apartment. “I mean, yeah, this place is a dump, but moving needs, like, time and stuff—”

“This place is dirty,” she said flatly, ticking off her fingers as she spoke. “Has roaches. Mice. The sink doesn’t work. The toilet flushes halfway. Water smells of arsenic. No wardrobe or closet space. The furniture has bed bugs. There’s no proper kitchen. Only one bedroom. No TV. No radio. No light. And only one bathroom.”

Naruto stared at her, slowly wilting under the barrage.

“Okay, okay! I get it, geez! It’s a hellhole!” he sighed. “Still, we’ll need to get furniture, right? It’s not gonna happen in a day—”

“Then use shadow clones,” she said calmly.

Naruto blinked. “…That’s a good idea, bastard. I mean—uh, Sasuke.”

“Hn.”

She stood and moved toward the kitchen. “Get freshened up.”

“I don’t like salad,” he called after her, frowning. “I’m hungry. I could really go for some dumplings or ramen or—”

She turned her head, Sharingan just barely flickering in her left eye. “Get freshened up. I have cooked salad.”

Naruto raised his hands in surrender. “…Right. Salad it is.”

He shuffled toward the bathroom, grumbling under his breath. But there was a strange, bubbling warmth in his chest. The way she took charge so easily. The way she’d said we’ll move instead of I’ll move.

We.

It had only been two days, and they were still a mess of awkward silences and strange conversations, burnt rice and electric shocks, bruised pride and bruised throats.

But somehow, this was working. Somehow, it felt like something real.

Even if dinner was salad.

—T~T—

It was still dark outside when Sasuke stirred awake, eyes blinking open to the faint hum of the city yet to rise. The apartment was silent, save for Naruto’s gentle snoring in the bedroom down the narrow hall. The clock read 4:02 AM. She sat up from the couch, blanket falling from her legs.

She hadn’t slept well: not because the couch was uncomfortable (which it was), but because something churned in her chest. Anticipation.

Today, she would return to the Uchiha Compound. Home. After all these years.

She didn’t want to waste a second.

She padded quietly to the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click. The mirror reflected her face: no longer that cold, vengeful girl. A woman now. Her fingers gently traced her bandaged synthetic arm before she peeled away her nightgown and stepped into the hot shower.

The water steamed up fast, heat scalding against her skin—but she didn’t complain. She let it roll down her body in long, slow rivulets. For the first time in a while, she felt something like…excitement. Her eyes closed, and for a moment, she imagined the cracked stones of the compound paths, the silent rooms of her old home. She could almost hear the creak of the floorboards, her mother’s voice calling for dinner.

When she stepped out, steam billowed around her. She wrapped a towel around herself and lifted a hand, forming a simple seal. A small gust of air circled her head: her Wind Release drying her hair swiftly.

She selected one of her mother’s old gowns: purple with a high collar and a ribboned waist. Slipping into it, she looked elegant and almost fragile in the mirror’s hazy surface. Satisfied, she stepped out of the bathroom, bare feet soft against the cool floor.

Sasuke moved toward the bedroom quietly. The door was slightly ajar. Naruto lay on the bed; spread out like a defeated shinobi after a mission, blanket half-tangled around one leg, hair messier than ever, mouth slightly open. A string of drool trailed onto the pillow.

Utterly ungraceful.

And yet… weirdly adorable.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching him. Her Sharingan spun to life almost subconsciously, recording every tiny twitch of his face, every slow rise and fall of his chest. She remembered the wedding ceremony, the brief, stunned kiss she had given him when the priest insisted on sealing the bond. He hadn’t even moved, just gone cross-eyed in surprise.

She didn’t regret that kiss. In fact, thinking back, it had been... amusing.

She crept closer, one step, then another, until she was hovering over him. A strange flutter danced in her chest. The tips of her fingers brushed her hair behind her ear. Just a little closer…

Her eyes closed.

Then—

“Nnnh… Sasuke?”

She froze. Her heart leapt to her throat.

She opened her eyes in pure horror.

Naruto, bleary-eyed, blinked up at her, still half-dreaming. “What are you doing?”

Sasuke’s face went beet red, panic flashing through her like a lightning strike. “I—uh—I was just—!”

Her words died in her throat.

Red flared in her vision. Her Sharingan spun rapidly, then shifted into the elegant pattern of the Eternal Mangekyō. “Tsukuyomi,” she muttered without thinking.

Naruto’s eyes fluttered shut instantly.

She exhaled hard, hands trembling as she backed away, her whole body glowing like a furnace. “Baka, baka, baka, baka,” she hissed under her breath. “Why did he have to wake up?!”

She turned away, arms crossed, seething and flustered. Her lips were pressed into a hard line, until they curled slightly into a smirk.

His loss, she thought.

He missed a kiss from her.

Still… if he’s already in a coma, might as well punish him.

Sasuke turned back, knelt by the bed again. Her fingers brushed the edge of his pillow. She hesitated, then leaned forward, slowly, deliberately. Her breath mingled with his. Her lips met his in the barest touch—soft, feather-light, almost reverent.

Then, something in her broke.

She pressed harder, kissing him more firmly. There was warmth, electricity—a rush of heat that started in her chest and surged down to her toes. Her hands gripped the blanket. When she pulled away, her breathing was shaky, heart pounding in her ears.

There. Now he’s properly punished. They are both legally adults and married, he should deserve nothing less.

She got up, adjusting her gown, and walked toward the kitchen, calm once again.

Unaware of the silent spectator inside Naruto’s head.

Inside the sealed cage within the depths of Naruto’s subconscious, Kurama’s nine tails bristled with utter disgust.

This is the lowest I have ever seen a human stoop, the Nine-Tailed Fox grumbled. Assaulting a boy in his sleep? With Genjutsu, no less. Uchiha women are demons. Literal demons.

He buried his face into his tails with a loud snort.

Disgusting. Absolutely revolting. And what’s worse… the idiot enjoyed it.

Kurama sighed, resigned.

And thus, Naruto Uzumaki, Hero of the Fourth Great Shinobi War, savior of the world, Hokage-in-training, was officially assaulted in his coma by his tsundere wife.

And he would wake up none the wiser.

—T~T—

Naruto woke up with a dull, persistent headache. His eyelids felt like sandpaper, and his mouth—he grimaced.

“Ugh... I feel like I got hit in the face by Madara’s gunbai...” he muttered, dragging his palm across his face. His tongue felt oddly thick, sticky, like it had been coated in something. And—“Why does my mouth taste like toothpaste? I didn’t even brush yet...”

Still bleary, he sat up slowly, mind foggy and oddly sluggish. There was something nagging at the edge of his thoughts, like a dream he couldn't remember but left an imprint behind. He frowned and reached out internally.

“Kurama? You there?”

Silence.

“Kurama?”

Still nothing. Not even a snort. That wasn’t like him.

“…What happened last night?”

The silence was deafening. Then, the faintest rustle of tails. “Don’t ask.”

“…What?”

“I said don’t ask, you miserable idiot. I’m still trying to bleach the memory from my mind.”

“…What the hell does that mean—?”

“EAT YOUR BREAKFAST.”

Naruto blinked, confused and mildly disturbed. “Weirdo,” he muttered, rubbing his stomach and stumbling out of the bedroom.

The living room was already bathed in early morning light. Sasuke stood near the shelf, boxing books into a plain brown box, her expression unreadable as always. Her long dark hair was tied loosely back, and she wore that same old purple gown that somehow made her look like both a shinobi and a noblewoman. The apartment was a mess of half-packed boxes—books, scrolls, kunai pouches, a few clothes neatly folded. Honestly, not that they owned much. No furniture worth taking, no luxuries. Just basics.

She glanced at him as he entered.

“Morning, Sasuke,” he greeted, yawning.

She didn’t respond at first, just pointed silently toward the dining table. “I made eggfry. Eat and help me pack.”

Naruto rubbed his stomach again and made a face. “Eggfry? That’s so boring... Ramen is peak. I’m eating ramen instead.”

Sasuke said nothing.

He walked to the cabinets and pulled one open.

Empty.

His brow twitched. He checked another one. Still empty. A frown started forming on his face as he opened the familiar instant ramen box that usually overflowed with flavor packets of joy.

It was empty too.

“…Sasuke?” His voice came out slow, disbelieving. “Where is my ramen?”

“Thrown away.”

He stared at her, frozen. “…What?”

“Those were expired,” she replied plainly, sliding another scroll into a box. “You’re lucky the fox keeps purging your system. You shouldn’t even be alive.”

Naruto’s face contorted in horror. “Sasuke—how could you?! That ramen was my pride! My soul! It was with me through pain and poverty! And you—!”

“I only threw away the ones that were expired.” She finally turned to face him fully, hands on her hips. “The special ones—Ichiraku’s limited editions, the ones you were hoarding like a dragon—I packed those.”

He paused.

“…Really?”

She gave him a curt nod.

His eyes lit up like the sun. “You’re the best, Sasuke!!” he said, rushing toward her with arms wide and scooping her into a sudden hug.

“Wha—Naruto—!” Her cheeks flushed a light pink as she stiffened in his arms. She pushed at his chest, grumbling, “Don’t touch me out of nowhere, idiot.”

He let go, grinning like a fool. “You saved my ramen stash. That means I owe you one. I’m totally naming my firstborn after you now.”

“I will personally gouge your eyes out if you do.”

“Heh, classic Sasuke.”

She rolled her eyes, the faint tint of color still on her cheeks as she turned back to the boxes. “Eat quickly. We’ve got a lot to do today. Move-in starts after eight.”

“Yes ma’am!” Naruto gave a mock salute and plopped down at the table, looking at the plate of hot eggfry. It was simple—fried eggs with a hint of salt and pepper, chopped scallions, and a drizzle of sesame oil.

He took a bite.

Not bad.

Actually, kinda good.

Not ramen, but… definitely made with care.

He chewed slowly, looking toward Sasuke’s back as she worked in silence, packing away the last of their old life into those cardboard boxes. She didn’t say much, but he could tell—today meant something to her.

She was going home. The Uchiha Compound, once abandoned, would breathe again.

Maybe this marriage, this mess of a setup, this confusing friendship-between-marriage-between-rivalry... maybe it was the start of something not so terrible.

He took another bite and smiled softly to himself.

Even without ramen, mornings like these might just be okay.

—T~T—

Naruto, flanked by an army of shadow clones, trudged along the road toward the Uchiha Clan compound, balancing boxes on each arm, on his shoulders, and even on his head. Sweat rolled down his face as he groaned under the weight.

“Man… I thought having clones would make this easy,” he grumbled.

“Then why did you summon us?” one of the clones shot back, shifting a heavy box labeled “Weapons – Sasuke’s – Do Not Touch.”

“Because she’ll murder me if I drop even one of her books,” Naruto snapped, and the clone nodded grimly. It understood the stakes.

Meanwhile, Sasuke had taken the shortcut through the lesser-traveled alleys and rooftops, smoothly navigating away from the main streets, her form flickering between shadows and sunlight. She didn’t want the attention. It wasn’t the fear of the public, Sasuke feared nothing, but the sheer discomfort of being watched: as an SSS-ranked ex-missing-nin, a war criminal, a war hero… and now, most annoyingly, the wife of the Seventh Hokage.

She was sure the ANBU trailing behind her were grumbling too, she had seen to it that they carried all the things she had bought from the market: toiletries, kitchenware, a new tea kettle, and three potted herbs. They didn’t protest. They weren’t supposed to. She, after all, wasn’t technically leaving their supervision, merely relocating within it. It wasn’t her fault they didn’t anticipate carrying her shopping bags like pack mules.

Her thoughts lingered on the phrase that had reached her ears a few times as she passed stalls: “Mrs. Uzumaki.”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Mrs. Uzumaki? No thank you. She was Sasuke Uchiha. Her name held history, tragedy, pride, and power. She hadn’t changed it, wouldn’t change it. Yet, she touched her chest lightly, there was a strange warmth at the idea. The idiot’s name clung to her now, attached by duty, by fate, by fire.

She brushed aside the memory of that morning, the blush creeping up again as her lips tingled at the thought. Toothpaste and ramen. Why did she even remember the flavor so precisely? And why the hell had she kissed him while he was comatose?

Baka.

She blinked it all away as the towering walls of the Uchiha compound finally came into view.

Her steps slowed.

This was… home.

No, it had been.

The grand wooden gate was still intact, its black frame dusted with time but lovingly preserved. The Uchiha fan crest stood proudly in the center, untouched by war or decay. As she walked through it, the familiar stone path greeted her—each footfall echoing with ghosts of a life long lost.

She clenched her fists and held her breath. The air here smelled of stillness, dust, memory. It almost made her knees buckle. But she didn’t break. She couldn’t—not now.

"Over there," she barked at the ANBU, gesturing toward the main house. "Place the bags by the engawa. And you—don't scratch that kettle."

They obeyed without question.

Inside, the house had been cleaned—someone had done their job well. The tatami mats were dust-free, the shoji doors slid smoothly, and the wooden floors had been recently polished. Still, the place was empty, haunted with silence and echo. No signs of laughter, no clatter of chopsticks, no smell of her mother’s simmered hijiki.

Just… cold space.

She knelt by the genkan and placed her hand on the wooden floor. The wood was warm with the summer sun. But still not quite home.

She heard the clones before she saw them, loud, arguing, and chaotic.

“I told you to hold it from the bottom!”

“I am holding it from the bottom—your bottom!”

“Guys, come on! The box says ‘fragile,’ and that probably means Sasuke’s stuff!”

Then Naruto appeared, sweat dripping down his brow, a huge grin on his face as he struggled with two massive boxes. “Yo! We made it!”

He kicked off his sandals with the elegance of a hurricane and stumbled inside. “Sasuke, this place is huge! I didn’t even know there were so many houses back here!”

Sasuke gave him a brief glance. “It’s a clan compound. Of course, it’s big.”

He set the boxes down with a relieved groan. “Man, I don’t know how you survived living here. All this space and no ramen shop in walking distance. Tragic.”

“It was peaceful,” she said softly, not looking at him.

Naruto paused. He looked at her then, really looked. Her shoulders were a little tense, her eyes distant. There was something fragile in the way she stood at the center of this empty house, dressed in her mother’s gown, hair tied loose, like a lone survivor finally returning to a ruined temple.

He wanted to say something, but didn’t. He didn’t have to.

She turned back to him and snapped, “Stop staring and help unpack.”

“There’s the Sasuke I know,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ll get the kitchen stuff set up. My clones are handling the rest.”

“Good. And keep your clone from touching my undergarments this time or I’ll stab you.”

“Eh-heh... noted.”

The place was slowly coming alive. The kitchen had the kettle boiling. The sliding doors were opened to let in the light. The boxes were sorted—his clothes, her scrolls, his spare headbands, her medicinal herbs. One room at a time, the home of the Uchiha began to feel less abandoned.

By late afternoon, the house was no longer empty.

There were cups in the cupboard. Rice and tea on the shelf. Two toothbrushes by the sink. Her fan and his frog wallet shared a drawer. Her sword stood near his old sage coat. It was awkward, imperfect, but it was theirs.

Their new home.

Or perhaps, her old home reborn.

Naruto stood at the engawa, stretching and smiling up at the sky. “I think this’ll be good, y’know?”

Sasuke joined him silently, eyes scanning the familiar garden. Her gaze softened.

“…Yeah,” she murmured. “Maybe.”

Just maybe.

Naruto’s clones dashed back and forth, lugging furniture, hammering nails, hoisting shelves, and arguing amongst themselves as if they weren’t born from the same chakra stream. It was a chaotic symphony of grunts, clonish complaints, and heavy thuds echoing through the once-hollow hallways of the old Uchiha house.

He’d picked this house—close to Sasuke’s childhood home but far enough from the shadows of the past. It had been renovated just before the massacre, then sealed and forgotten. Its bones were untouched by bloodshed. Now it was getting a new chance.

An electrician crew, half-spooked by ANBU presence, was threading new wiring through the old wooden walls, muttering about antique structures and fire hazards. Naruto supervised while wiping sweat from his brow, giving cheerful nods and helping where he could, though more often than not, he was mistaken for just another clone.

Meanwhile, Sasuke stood in the kitchen, sleeves tied up to her elbows, organizing dishes and utensils in quiet, efficient movements. She’d taken to the space like she’d always known it—the cupboards were older, sure, and the sink groaned with age, but it was clean, functional, and slowly becoming hers.

The scent of new beginnings clung to the air—soap, polish, cardboard, a hint of detergent. Still, beneath all that, the house whispered memories she didn’t want to touch. She let her mind focus instead on plates and spice jars.

The layout was generous: four bedrooms (two upstairs), a cozy living room with wide windows, a spacious kitchen, two bathrooms, a long hallway, and a quiet study. There was even a terrace overlooking the courtyard, where plants from Shino now stood like silent green guardians, and a big yard where Naruto swore he’d set up a small training post “just in case.”

Sasuke appreciated the idea of sharing space—more than she admitted. Sharing a house with him was already... strange in a warm way. Sharing a bedroom, though?

Her pride scoffed at the thought. No.

So, two rooms it was. She’d claimed the upstairs one on the left. Naruto, without protest, took the one beside hers.

Their friends, Naruto’s friends, had sent over more than expected. In true Leaf fashion, they showed up in waves of well-meaning, half-teasing generosity.

Choji’s contribution had nearly floored her. The entire kitchen setup—rice cooker, pots, pans, knives, and even a top-tier microwave, had been purchased on his coin. When Naruto had thanked him, Choji just waved it off. “It’s an investment. Feed the Hokage well.”

Shikamaru, unsurprisingly, had paid for the study room setup. A desk, a few shelves, reading lamps, and even a proper chair Naruto immediately spun in circles until Sasuke smacked his head.

Shino had given plants. Of course he had. All kinds, indoor, outdoor, medicinal, aromatic. They now sat by the windows, near the genkan, by the bathroom sink. Quiet, green, and alive.

Ino sent over a full-length dresser and wardrobe, sleek and clearly expensive. Naruto claimed both without shame, stuffing his frog wallet, socks, and spare kunai into the drawers before Sasuke could object. “I have more stuff than you!” he argued. He was wrong, but louder, so he won.

TenTen and Lee showed up together with a sofa set wrapped in ribbons and motivational messages scrawled on the cardboard. It was hideous. Sasuke hated it. Naruto loved it. So they kept it.

Kiba’s gift was... confusing at first. Boxes of decorative items, all labeled “Cool Stuff.” There were throw pillows shaped like ninja tools, wooden wall hangings, a handmade wind chime, and one framed quote that read, “Hokage is temporary. Dogs are forever.” Naruto hung it over the bathroom door. Sasuke considered destroying it daily.

Then there was Sakura.

She came in like a storm—bright, pink, bossy. She’d brought with her a brand-new fridge and washing machine, both carried in on the back of an ox-cart like sacred offerings.

“You’re both hopeless,” she said, hands on hips, eyes rolling. “You’ll thank me later.”

Naruto stood beside her, watching in awe as the washing machine made its first spin. “Sakura-chan, this thing is amazing! I just put the clothes in and poof, clean!”

Sasuke stood in the hallway, arms crossed, watching from the shadows. Something in her stomach twisted—not quite anger, not quite sadness. She wasn’t sure. Sakura looked too comfortable next to him. Smiled too easily. Touched his arm too casually.

Ridiculous.

She turned away.

Naruto called out, “Hey, Sasuke! Come check out how this thing spins!” He was pointing at the washer like it was the greatest ninjutsu ever invented.

“I know how it works,” she replied curtly.

“Oh,” he blinked, a little deflated.

Sakura raised an eyebrow at Sasuke and then smirked. Sasuke resisted the urge to punch something. Later, after Sakura had left, she went and reorganized the laundry room entirely.

The sun was dipping low when the clones started vanishing one by one, their jobs done. The couch was in place. Books were on shelves. The kettle in the kitchen was humming.

Sasuke stood at the entrance to the hallway, arms folded, watching Naruto lay on the sofa with a tired groan, limbs spread out like he’d been hit by a jutsu.

“It’s done,” he mumbled. “Our house... is set.”

Sasuke didn’t correct him.

She just nodded, “Tomorrow, you’ll help with the yard.”

Naruto groaned again. “You’re a tyrant.”

She smirked. “You married me.”

He cracked an eye open and grinned. “Best terrible decision I ever made.”

She turned away to hide her smile. The house was starting to feel lived in. Not quite home yet... but it was getting there.