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Despite their training. Despite their power. Despite their energy and burning passion, Naruto and Sasuke, like all living things, grow old. And like all other things, they do it together.
Sasuke’s eyes slide open in the early morning in the way of one waking in no particular hurry. His eyes trace the swirling pattern in the plaster of his bedroom ceiling as he takes stock of himself. His chest pain is relatively mild today, the whistling feeling he gets in the back of his throat on bad days a dull whisper rather than a wheeze. His head isn’t hurting, and his vision is appropriately blurry. He feels relatively well rested, and his dreams had been devoid of horror or old hurts. His back aches, but well, his back always aches.
Today is going to be a good day.
He’s just about to brace himself for the monumental task of dragging himself into a seated position when a heavy arm slings across his torso and drags him against a warm chest. Sasuke grumbles but allows himself to be pulled over until his view of the ceiling is blocked by sprigs of gray and blonde hair.
“‘Morning, S’ske…” Naruto rumbles into the base of his throat, chapped lips pressing against his skin in a series of butterfly kisses.
Sasuke doesn’t respond, lifting his hand so that he can start carding his stiff fingers through Naruto’s hair. The motion does double duty: both giving him an excuse to touch Naruto and warming up his joints. They sit like that in pleasant silence for a beat or two until Naruto can’t help but to break it.
“So…you ready for today?” Naruto asks in that knowingly hesitant tone that tells him that he knows how upset Sasuke is but won’t make the other admit it.
Sasuke lets the air rush out of him in a heavy sigh, hand pausing in its mindless trail through Naruto’s hair. “No. I’m not. But I’ll get through it.”
Naruto sighs and lifts himself up so that he can look at Sasuke properly, a fond smile curling his mouth and the smile lines around his eyes scrunching up in the way that Sasuke likes best. “Retirement isn’t a death sentence, you know? Think of all the time you’ll have to…do things other than shinobi stuff!”
Sasuke grumbles and drags his hand down his face before sitting up as well. “Too much time. I don’t want to just sit around all day, getting old.”
“We’re getting older everyday, whether we like it or not,” Naruto shrugs. He pauses and drags his eyes over Sasuke’s torso where old scars turn into muscles only slightly softened with age. He wiggles his eyebrows at Sasuke suggestively, a devious smile on his face. “There are a couple parts of us that aren't in the old folks’ home, yet.”
Sasuke snorts and shoves Naruto away. “Fat chance at this hour, idiot. Come back when you’ve taken your meds.”
Naruto whines and grabs for Sasuke as he stands from the bed and begins to putter around the room, mindlessly completing his morning routine. When it’s clear that Sasuke isn’t going to come back to bed, Naruto begrudgingly pulls himself out of bed, his spine popping satisfyingly as he stands. He makes a big show of scooping up his pill calendar, popping open the box corresponding to today, and swallowing the tiny handful of pills down. “One hour,” He promises suggestively when he’s finished, looking Sasuke up and down.
Sasuke stares at him, unimpressed, with his hand on his hip. “You should really be taking that with water. You’ll get another stomach ulcer, idiot.”
Naruto groans, exasperated. “Just suck the romance right out of the room, why don’t you?”
Sasuke waves him off and moves towards the bathroom after locating his glasses on his end table to guarantee that he hadn't managed to misplace them the previous night and taking his own medication. He makes quick work of brushing his teeth, Naruto joining him quietly midway through. Sasuke assesses the blonde quietly in the mirror, taking in the tired tilt of his eyes and the tense way he holds himself. Naruto is in pain. Stubborn idiot.
There's only one thing to do about it, if Naruto won't admit it himself. He moves to their large walk-in shower and turns the knobs until the water is cascading down in a steamy spray. He shrugs his sleep pants off and steps into the shower when he is satisfied with the nearly punishing heat, letting the water slip across his muscles and loosen them up from their ever present morning stiffness. Seconds later, a cool breeze just behind him indicates that Naruto has slipped into the shower, as well. Hopefully, the warm water will soothe Naruto's aches, as well.
There is nothing sexual about their touching, holding each other up so that one can lean down, handing out of reach bottles over, leaning on one another while they rinse shampoo from hair streaked with silver. They eventually come to a rest with Sasuke’s head nestled into the crook of Naruto’s shoulder.
“You should tell Sakura that you’re having more pain in the morning.” Sasuke offers, shivering as Naruto runs the very tips of his fingers down Sasuke’s spine.
Naruto hums consideringly. “It’s nothing that I can’t handle. I don’t need any more meds; I'm on enough of them as it is.”
Sasuke shakes his head and leans back to properly glare at him. “You already know what I’m about to say, so I’ll save my breath. Call Sakura.”
“Alright, alright, you cranky bastard.” Naruto complains, reaching over to turn the shower off. He waits to make sure that Sasuke exits the shower safely without falling before leaving himself. “By the way, are you still going to physical therapy on Friday? I have a few things I want to ask Mako.”
“Sarada wants me to watch Hiro for her. I’ll go next week.” Sasuke shrugs. He moves to the small wardrobe which houses his modest collection of clothing. He passes over the more familiar armored clothing he wears in the field and instead selects a lightweight sweater and a pair of sweatpants. He supposes he’ll have to go shopping for more civilian clothes, now.
Across the bedroom, Naruto is getting dressed in that familiar Hokage attire. Where Sasuke had been forced into retirement due to his slowly worsening vision and the painful inflammation in his heart that seemed to be ever present, Naruto was still serving as Hokage and thus spent most of his days in the Tower. Today would be the first day in many years that Sasuke truly had nothing to do—he couldn’t even pester Naruto or any of the children now that he was properly off the shinobi roster. Watching Naruto clip his robe in place sends a jolt of shameful envy down his spine. He’s positive it shows on his face, so he carefully turns and leaves the room without further remark.
The house is quiet in the early morning, the quiet chirruping of summer cicadas echoing somewhere in the distance and the bubbling of their timed coffee maker the only disturbances of the decidedly solid peace. He passes by open bedroom doors, sighing at their emptiness. Even after all these years, the distinct lack of children in the house sends a pang to his heart. In what had seemed like a blink of time, children had become teenagers and those teenagers adults. The childrens’ bedrooms, once adorned in bright stickers and posters now only sparsely decorated—more guest rooms than anything else.
The day that Himawari had moved out had been the hardest. Sarada and Boruto had been quick to insist that they were perfectly responsible enough to maintain a joint apartment on the other side of town as roommates. Neither had been particularly thrilled to be rooming with their sibling, but they had eventually agreed to the arrangement and had left in an enormous flurry of boxes and tape and bubble wrap that had left Sasuke’s house absolutely destroyed in the aftermath. More a ripping off of a bandaid than anything else.
Himawari, on the other hand, had moved a little bit at a time into her girlfriend’s apartment over the course of a year. First, it was little things: fewer items in her wardrobe, a beloved stuffed animal gone missing. But then, it had been larger things like her enormous collection of potted plants and her stacks of CDs. The youngest of their children, watching Himawari slowly find a home with someone else had left a bittersweet ache in Sasuke’s heart that he didn’t think he would ever recover from. What a gift it was to see his children bloom, and how heartbreaking it was to lose soft hugs, buzzing mornings, and dimpled smiles along the way.
Naruto had cried like a baby when Himawari had finally announced that she was formally changing her residence on her registration paperwork to her girlfriend’s address, but then had swept her up into his arms and started babbling about the window garden he was going to set up for her. Sasuke, however, had been quietly sad about it for years now. Sometimes, Naruto catches him flipping through albums of baby pictures with misty eyes and wisely chooses to not comment.
With just the two of them, breakfast is a simple affair: a plate of scrambled eggs and toast with strawberry jam that Sasuke manages to scrounge up while Naruto is collecting the various items he’ll need for the day from their haphazard locations around the house. Sasuke has been nagging him for years to keep his work stuff by the door, but somehow, Naruto always manages to drag paperwork and files and pens everywhere he goes.
Naruto finally slumps at the kitchen table when everything is assembled, just in time for Sasuke to slide a plate in front of him followed by a cup of coffee. Once he has his own plate secured, Sasuke slides into the chair across from him. It’s quiet for a spell or two—only the clinking of forks interrupting the stillness—but once Naruto has finished eating, he fills the silence with comments about the weather and the meeting he has with the visiting diplomats from River country that afternoon.
“So what’s the plan for today?” Naruto asks eventually, leaning back in his chair after dumping a ridiculous amount of sugar into his coffee.
“You’re supposed to be watching your sugar intake, you know.” Sasuke can’t help but to scold. He sighs. “Maybe I’ll start sorting through all of the things we have in storage and organizing. We’ve been saying that we were going to do that for years.”
Naruto hums approvingly. “That’s sure to keep you occupied. Just make sure you keep your phone on you in case you hurt yourself.”
“I’m retired, not on death's door.” Sasuke reminds him. “I’ll be fine.”
Naruto stares at Sasuke meaningfully over his coffee mug. “Still. Keep the phone.”
“You know how I hate that thing. It never works anyways. Why do we even need cell phones? The Uchiha have relied on messenger summons for generations. I can’t understand half of what you and children try to message me.”
“Just because you don’t understand emojis doesn’t mean the rest of us are going to put up with your hawks squawking about.” Naruto chuckles, standing from the table and beginning to clear the plates away.
“Garuda would be appalled to hear you say such a thing.” Sasuke informs him indignantly, doing his level best to not pout.
“Garuda,” Naruto emphasizes. “Hasn’t left his nest in years. Use your phone.”
Sasuke begrudgingly agrees and stands to start helping Naruto with the dishes. Where once, the two of them would sleep well into the morning, Naruto often scrambling off to work with mere moments to spare, it seemed that the older the two of them became, the earlier they woke. The sun was just beginning to clear the skyline from where Sasuke could see it from the kitchen window. Sarada would be waking soon, likely heading to T&I to help the Yamanaka boy out. Himawari would be well on her way to Wind country with a gaggle of genin, all wide eyes and arrogance heading into the chuunin exams.
Boruto. Well, Sasuke could never predict where Boruto was going to be at any particular moment.
A rattling on the doorframe shakes Sasuke from his thoughts, his head whipping to take in the very child he had just been wondering about. Boruto is dressed in his standard jounin flak jacket and under armor. He must be on duty today.
“Hey, Pops. Father.” Boruto cheers, nodding to the two of them.
Naruto dries his hand on a dish towel and turns to face Boruto fully. “Take it easy on the chakra concealment, you’ll give your father a heart attack.” He admonishes, only partially joking.
Sasuke snorts and nods towards the table. “Speak for yourself, old man. Have you eaten?”
Boruto waves them both off. “I picked up something from the convenience store on the way. Shikamaru sent me to get you. Said something about rescuing Father from your nagging.”
Naruto barks a laugh and makes quick work of finishing the dishes. “If anyone’s nagging here, it’s your father. Come on, I’ve got all my stuff ready.” He hums and moves closer to Sasuke to press a warm kiss to his lips, ignoring the way it sends a pretty flush to Sasuke’s cheeks, before gathering his bag of paperwork. “Remember: phone. Good luck today!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sasuke grumbles, nodding when Boruto mock salutes before ushering Naruto out the door. He can already hear the two of them bickering as they meander down the path just beyond the front door. Sasuke watches them until they disappear around the corner, and with nothing left to do, he turns to his empty house and sighs.
He had made a promise to Sakura that he wouldn’t over extend himself in the first few days of retirement. He was meant to be taking it easy and catching up on me time, according to his ex-wife.
Because Sasuke has never been one for listening to anyone, he ties his hair back into a sloppy tail at the base of his neck, gathers up some cleaning supplies, and makes his way to the storage space located in the cellar. It was a dark, cold place a couple of steps underground and he was immedaitely thankful for the way the cool stone walls sheild him from the sun. He pats his pockets, realizes that he’s forgotten his phone inside, and shrugs. It’s not like anything will happen.
The cellar is absolutely packed with every knick knack, every decoration, every bicycle and toy that had ever graced the front steps of the Uchiha-Uzumaki abode. Sasuke can only sigh as he takes in the sheer mass of junk all around him, dreading what will probably be days of sorting, wrapping, and tossing every scrap of paper or cloth he had nagged Naruto to toss out years ago.
When their mutual divorces had been finalized and the two of them had moved in together, Sasuke had been astounded by the sheer quantity of stuff that Naruto owned. Partially due to growing up with very few possessions to call his own, Naruto had an incredibly difficult time throwing things away. Most of the time, it didn’t bother Sasuke—save when it came to saving the thirtieth takeout container from Ichiraku Ramen because we can always use a microwave safe container—but it is clear that Naruto has been using the cellar as his dumping ground for who knows how long.
Sasuke pulls the gardening glove he had pilfered from their junk drawer in the kitchen on and decides that moving the three rusty bikes out of the space will be a decent place to start. He grabs the first one by the handles and heaves, grunting when it sends a heavy box tumbling to the ground. It takes quite a bit of effort with only one hand, but eventually, all three are laying in the grass outside and Sasuke at least has room enough to turn in the cramped space.
Wiping the back of his hand across his damp forehead, he moves towards the box, helpfully labeled “clothes,” that he had knocked over while fumbling around with the bicycles, turning it right side up from where it had tilted over. He takes up a garbage bag with a look of determination and opens the box, fully prepared to toss at least half of whatever is in there.
Only to come to a screeching halt when his eyes take in the pile of tiny baby clothing. Small pink socks with butterflies embroidered into their seams. A pair of scuffed sneakers with frayed laces. The tiniest blue sweater with a ribbon sewn into the collar, meant to hold a pacifier. He pulls his glove off, eyes transfixed, and inches his shaky fingers forward to gently stroke over the petal soft satin of a dress he remembers Sarada loving dearly. Where had the time gone? Where were those pitter pattering footsteps bursting into his kitchen and the ceaseless bickering?
He very manfully sniffles and removes his glasses so that he can pat at the dewy moisture collecting in the corners of his eyes.
“Oh come on, Papa,” A voice snarks. “Don’t tell me you’re wasting your first day of retirement crying over a pile of socks of all things.”
Sasuke’s shoulders tense, startled, and he does his best to collect himself before turning to face his daughter with all the haughty pride of an elder Uchiha. “I am not crying. And what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be at T&I?”
Sarada snorts and climbs the steps down until she’s standing shoulder to shoulder with him in the tiny cellar, staring down at the opened box. Mindlessly, she reaches out to run thin fingers across the collar of a sweater that must have been purple once, before something bright orange had been splashed across it. “Dad sent me. Was worried you would do something stupid.” She glances over at him. “I take it he was right?”
Sasuke grumbles and moves to pick up the box, shuffling it off to the side so that he can open the one just beneath it, grateful when the box only contains piles of old paperwork and not something that would send him into another humiliating fit of tears. “I am perfectly capable of moving boxes, Sarada. I don’t know why everyone is treating me like a child.”
Sarada sighs, clenching her jaw in that very particular way that makes her look strikingly like Sakura. “You were taken off duty because you weren’t deemed medically fit to serve anymore. Mom says the inflammation in your heart is pretty serious. You need to be careful.”
“And I’m being careful.” Sasuke insists, reaching over to run fingers through her silky, black hair, smiling when it inspires the complaining whine out of her that it has since she was a toddler. “Really. I know that I can’t do the things I used to be able to. I just need something to occupy myself with, that's all.”
“Just bring your phone with you next time.” Sarada eventually sighs, fishing in her pocket until she can retrieve Sasuke’s cellphone, reaching over to slip it into the pocket of his sweats. “Seriously.”
Sasuke nods with a heavy sigh. “I will. I promise I’ll stop being so careless. Really.”
Satisfied, Sarada moves to start flicking through the piles of paper in the box, carefully pulling out the items that are important—hospital records and registration forms—and moving the useless ones—old receipts and scribbled notes—to the garbage bag. “Why does Dad insist on keeping all this junk around? The least he could do is organize it.”
Sasuke shrugs, bending to unearth another box. “You know your father. That idiot has an organization system that the two of us will never understand. How is the baby? And that idiot husband of yours?”
“Hiro is great. In just a few months, he’ll be old enough for the day care facilities, and I’ll be back on duty.” She pauses to shove at Sasuke. “And Inojin is fine, Papa. And also not an idiot.”
“I can’t believe you’ve made me even remotely related to Sai Yamanaka of all people.” Sasuke grumbles. “And your husband is an idiot.”
Sarada ignores Sasuke’s complaining—the very thing he had been complaining about ever since Sarada had first brough Inojin home all those years ago. Sasuke hadn’t been opposed to the relationship until it had occurred to him that not only would Sarada’s marriage to Inojin bring Ino Yamanaka into their small family, but it would bring her husband, Sai, who has done his record best to be the most irritating person in Sasuke’s life. The birth of their son, Hiro, had softened Sasuke towards Inojin’s cause slightly, but he would never fully forgive the boy for his role in the unexpected pregnancy that had taken Sarada off duty just weeks before her promotion to head genjutsu specialist at T&I—the promotion she had been working towards for the better part of a decade—while Inojin had been away on a long-term mission in Wind country. Sarada, of course, was merely a victim to her husband’s idiocy in Sasuke’s mind. Whether his assessment was fair or not remained to be seen.
“Have you talked to Hima lately?” Sarada asks after setting the much more empty box to the side and opening another one, also full of old papers. “I think she’s thinking of taking a vacation to Tea country soon, and she mentioned wanting you to go with her.”
Sasuke hums distractedly, squinting his eyes at the definitely broken picture frame that Naruto had saved…for some reason. “No, I haven’t. I’m sure she’s been up to her neck in paperwork for the chuunin exams.”
“I think a vacation would be good for you.” Sarada offers, tying up the garbage bag she had managed to fill and pushing it to the side.
“You know I can’t leave your father. He’ll find a way to kill himself if I’m not there to make sure he takes his meds and doesn’t microwave styrofoam.”
“We’ll make it work,” She insists. “Boruto and I will take care of Dad. You spend some time with Hima.”
Sasuke glances over at her, takes in the stressed lines at the corners of her eyes and the way she bites her lip. He’s made her worry. He reaches over and smooths the lines away with his thumb and smiles gently at her. “I’ll think about it. Promise.”
Sarada nods, relieved, and turns her attention back to the boxes. They continue at that pace for some time, sorting through the piles of boxes and reorganizing them until they’ve managed to fill several bags of garbage and significantly decrease the number of boxes in the cellar. After a handful of hours of work, Sarada stands and stretches her back until it pops.
“Alright, Papa,” She announces. “That’s enough for today. Come on, let’s find something to eat for lunch.”
Sasuke pauses his work and glances around the room, taking in all their progress, and nods. “You’re probably right. Thank you for your help, Sarada.”
She waves him off and makes quick work of closing the lids of the open boxes and dragging the garbage bags out of the cellar. She waits at the entrance to make sure that Sasuke climbs the stairs safely before moving through the back garden to get to the wide sliding doors which lead to the kitchen.
The two of them putter around the kitchen after washing their hands, collecting some tomatoes from the bowl on the counter and slicing them after putting some rice in the rice cooker. Sasuke moves to fill the kettle for tea, but Sarada waves him off and orders him to go change out of his dusty clothing before they eat. The longer they’re inside and Sasuke isn’t actively moving boxes, the more he notices his shoulders beginning to ache. He pops a few of the pills Sakura had prescribed him for his back before switching his clothes out for clean ones and making his way back to the kitchen.
In the span of time that it took him to wash his face and change his clothes, Naruto and Boruto have both managed to appear for their lunch break. Boruto is slouched at the kitchen table, leaning his chair back on its hind legs like Sasuke has told him not to do a million times. Meanwhile, Sarada is making quick work of snatching the convenience store bag full of instant ramen out of Naruto’s hands.
Sasuke pushes Boruto’s chair fully to the ground as he passes by, smirking at the grunt it earns him from the boy and takes the bag from Sarada, peering inside. The bag contains a single cup of instant ramen and a tiny energy shot—the sort of thing that Sakura had in no small words absolutely banned.
“Naruto,” Sasuke begins, glaring at the sheepish blonde. “You know you’re not supposed to eat this stuff anymore.”
“I know, I know,” Naruto insists. “But one time won’t kill me, you know?”
“And Boruto,” Sasuke scolds, turning his glare to the sheepish boy who is slowly sinking lower and lower in his chair. “You know better than to enable his stupidity.”
Boruto mutters a vague excuse involving some distracting kids and Naruto being too quick in the convenience store when he hadn’t been watching. Sasuke ignores him and moves to the trash bin, dumping the bag without a second glance while Naruto whines from his spot at the kitchen table.
“Ah, come on, Sas. Don’t be such a killjoy!” Naruto grumbles, arms crossed over his chest childishly.
“Oh something will kill you, but it won’t be me.” Sasuke informs him pointedly. “Now, cholesterol meds. Take them.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Naruto grumbles, dragging himself to his feet without further complaint, knowing that it is useless to argue.
Sasuke can’t help the tiny smile that curls at the corner of his lips when he sits at the table where Sarada has thoughtfully placed a steaming cup of his favorite jasmine tea. Boruto is rambling on about his latest mission in River country while Sarada places a plate of tomato slices in the center of the table. Naruto moves to fill bowls with rice and furikake, humming quietly under his breath while the children talk. They eat together with the sense of easy familiarity of family, conversation buzzing around them as if they were merely picking up from where they had left off. As if the empty bedrooms were never empty, at all.
Sasuke’s shoulders ache and there is a deep stinging feeling in his chest. His vision is poor and his hair streaked with silver. His skin is loose and his muscles padded in fat. Most days, the only thing keeping him functioning is the careful regimen of pills and herbs that Sakura has concocted for him.
But in spite of everything that has changed about his life—marriage, divorce, children, marriage again—all things that have fallen victim to the inevitable passage of time, there are something that have remained steadfast. The handsome tilt of Naruto’s jaw. The way bells seem to chime when Sarada laughs. The mischievous glint in Boruto’s eye. And the deep, unwavering love that Sasuke has for it all.