They emerged from the forest slowly, like three lame beasts licking their wounds.
Sasuke was on the right, Sakura on the left. Between them, hanging on their shoulders as a heavy, almost lifeless burden, Naruto dragged his feet.
Pakkun ran slightly ahead, glancing back every now and then. His small black eyes were serious, and his nose twitched, analyzing the chemistry of the air.
To the ninken, the world was a map of scents, and this map was currently telling an unpleasant story.
Naruto smelled of ozone, singed fur, and the metallic bitterness of blood—the scent of a storm that had burned itself out.
Sakura smelled of the salt of tears and sour fear—the scent of a puppy seeing wolves for the first time.
But Sasuke's scent made the fur on Pakkun's scruff stand on end.
The Uchiha smelled of cold sweat and rot. It wasn't the smell of physical decay, but the specific aroma of Sakki—killing intent that was barely contained. Pakkun sensed the metallic taste of adrenaline a predator releases before pouncing on prey.
That puppy... the ninken thought, eyeing Sasuke's stony face. He was on the edge. He had his hand on his weapon. I smelled the metal. A black sheep has appeared in the pack. I need to tell Kakashi.
"We're almost out," Pakkun grumbled aloud, chasing away the gloomy thoughts. "Just a little further."
Walking was difficult. Naruto's feet dragged along the ground, catching on roots and stones, leaving two long furrows in the dust behind him. He was unnaturally heavy—dense, as if his bones were cast from metal.
Sakura, whose physical strength was inferior to the boys, was already breathing heavily. Sweat poured into her eyes; the muscles of the shoulder supporting the Uzumaki burned with fire. She stumbled over a protruding root, nearly falling.
"Careful," Sasuke threw out dully. He yanked the blonde toward himself, taking the brunt of the weight.
"I... I've got him," Sakura exhaled, gritting her teeth. She adjusted her grip on Naruto's arm. "I can handle it."
Silence hung between them. Not the comfortable silence that follows a successful training session. It was a silence full of unspoken words. Sasuke felt the warmth of his teammate's body through the torn jacket. The very body he had thought of piercing with metal. The sensation of his friend's pulse on his shoulder caused a wave of nausea in the Uchiha, mixed with a grim satisfaction: He is alive. I didn't do it.
They passed the last trees, emerging onto the edge separating the Forest of Death from the village perimeter.
And stopped.
Konoha was burning.
The sun barely pierced through the thick veil of black smoke rising from the residential districts. A giant breach gaped in the indestructible wall of the Leaf, as if someone had bitten off a chunk of stone. On the ruins of the watchtowers lay the dead carcasses of giant snakes summoned by Orochimaru, resembling fallen mythical monsters.
Sakura inhaled sharply and immediately coughed from the fumes.
"No..." she whispered, staring with wide eyes at the destroyed sector. "How can this be..."
The air here was hot and dry, scorching the lungs. Ash fell from the sky like gray snow, settling on hair and shoulders.
They entered the village through the breach. Chaos reigned around them, but it was organized chaos—Konoha shinobi had already taken control of the situation, extinguishing fires with Water Style techniques.
Broken glass and roof tiles crunched underfoot. Sakura saw a teddy bear with a torn paw lying right in the mud, half-scorched by fire. Nearby lay a tea house sign, split in two. Ordinary things, torn straight from peaceful life, looked terrifying.
A group of Chunin ran past them carrying a stretcher. Blood dripped from the arm of one of the wounded, leaving a dark trail on the road.
"Make way!" one of the medics barked, ignoring the fact that Genin were in front of him. "To the hospital, move! Code Red!"
Sakura jerked, instinctively wanting to help, to rush to the wounded, to do at least something. But Naruto's weight on her shoulder held her back. She realized her helplessness. She knew the theory, but now, in the midst of a real war, she was just a burden who could barely help carry her comrade.
I'm useless, she thought bitterly, looking at the blackened skeletons of buildings. Sasuke and Naruto fought, risking their lives. And I... I just look at the consequences.
They walked further, deeper into the district.
Enemies—Sand and Sound shinobi—lay openly in unnatural poses, broken and breathless.
Their own—Konoha defenders—were covered with white sheets. But sheets couldn't hide everything. A gloved hand sticking out from under the fabric. A familiar Chunin vest soaked in blood.
Sakura sobbed, pressing her free hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. Her peaceful, cozy world of the Academy and D-rank missions was collapsing, buried under this debris.
Sasuke walked in silence. His face was pale, frozen like a mask.
He didn't look away. He forced himself to look.
Destroyed houses. Bodies on the streets. The smell of blood and burning.
All this superimposed onto another memory.
That night.
The Uchiha district. His parents' bodies. Blood on the walls. And the same feeling of helplessness.
I am weak, this thought beat like a hammer in his temples. Every time, too weak.
Shadows from the burning buildings danced on the walls; Sasuke's inflamed mind began to play cruel tricks on him.
For a moment, it seemed to him that the Chunin's body under the white sheet twitched. In a pool of blood, he saw the reflection not of a smoldering roof, but of the red moon of that very night.
The smell of burning was replaced by the smell of iron.
You know why you are weak, Sasuke? Because you lack hatred.
Itachi's voice sounded so distinct in the noise of the fire that the Uchiha almost stumbled. The Cursed Seal on his neck responded to this phantom voice with a faint, painful pulse, as if agreeing.
Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to chase away the vision.
He gripped Naruto's arm tighter.
I am not Itachi, he thought angrily, arguing with himself. And I will never become him. But Naruto... he has surged so far ahead that I can barely see his back.
"Over here!" a shout rang out, tearing him from the waking nightmare.
They arrived at a temporary triage point organized in the square.
In the center of the chaos, giving orders to a group of shinobi, stood Kakashi.
The Jonin looked as if he had been through a meat grinder. His vest was gray with dust, cuts were visible on his arms, and his forehead protector was pushed up, revealing only a tired eye.
He turned at the sound of footsteps.
For a split second, fear flashed in his eye—the fear of seeing fewer students than had left.
But they were here. All three.
Kakashi exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly.
Pakkun ran up to him. He didn't say anything. He just sat in front of Kakashi and looked him in the eye, and then briefly, expressively shifted his gaze to Sasuke.
Kakashi intercepted that look. He saw a warning in the dog's eyes.
The Jonin shifted his gaze to Sasuke. He noticed the student's unnatural pallor, his empty stare, and the way he held himself—as if ready to explode.
Something happened, Kakashi realized. Something happened within the team while I was gone.
But now was not the time for interrogations.
Kakashi stepped forward.
"Sasuke, Sakura. Give him to me."
Sasuke and Sakura carefully passed Naruto to their teacher.
Kakashi scooped the boy up in his arms. Naruto was hot as a furnace; his clothes were soaked in sweat and dirt.
The teacher's familiar, calm chakra touched Naruto's senses. It was a signal of safety.
The Uzumaki struggled to peel his eyelids open. The world swam before his eyes, but he recognized the silver hair.
"Sensei..." he whispered, his voice like the rustling of dry leaves. "Is the war... over?.."
Kakashi looked at the ruined square, at the smoke over the village, at his dispirited students.
"The invasion has been repelled," he said quietly but firmly. "We won, Naruto."
Those words became the key.
The last thread of will holding him in consciousness snapped.
"Good..." he exhaled.
Naruto's head fell back limply. He plunged into a deep, dreamless darkness.
Kakashi adjusted his grip on the student and looked at the two remaining ones.
Sakura sank to the ground, covering her face with her hands and crying quietly.
Sasuke stood aside, looking at his hands. The same hands that had held a kunai, and the same ones that had carried a friend.
"You've been through a lot," Kakashi said, his voice sounding hollow against the background of distant sirens. "But everything will be fine now. The main thing is—you are alive."
Sasuke slowly raised his eyes to him.
In the Uchiha's dark irises, only the smoldering embers of fires were reflected. He didn't react. His gaze was heavy, unfocused, directed through the teacher, somewhere into the void. Naruto's words still rang in his ears.
Fine?
Sasuke looked at his hands. He could still feel the weight of the kunai that had never been thrown.
Silence.
Kakashi, noticing that look, frowned but said nothing.
The sun still shone over Konoha. The village had survived; now it remained to deal with the consequences.