Being the last Uchiha had been something that Sasuke had grown used to. He had been alone for some time. The last of his name.
Well his brother had been roaming around, but since Sasukeās entire goal at the time was to kill him, he never really counted that.
This was also long before he found out about the existence of Obito and Madara.
But now, they were all dead and gone. He really had been the last one. And he had spent the fews years after that alone as well. Jailed, for one. Then his self imposed walk of atonement, to help rid the world of the evils that he himself had spread.
It had been a long, long time before he had returned back to the village.
Things were much different than he had remembered, including his own home. The entire district had been left to rot in disrepair after the massacre. Then Pain had laid waste to everything. His familyās former home had simply not been rebuilt. New homes, shops, streets and people covered the ground where once his family ruins had haunted.
One might think it poetic.
Besides, his family had only been sequestered there from persecution after the Nine Tails attack, when he had only been a baby.
He had spent a long time being the sole survivor. The last Uchiha.
Two goals had ruled him. Kill his brother. Restore his Clan.
He had killed his brother.
The pain from that experience would pinch his heart every time he thought of him. Sasuke knew that through time, one could come to terms with the dead. His wife was like that. She could smile serenely and tell him stories of her mother from when she was a child. Sasuke doubted he could ever think on any memory of Itachi and not feel the raw, torn edges of agony.
Restoring his clan had been a little bit trickier.
Sasuke had agreed that making Konoha publicly admit what they had done to the Uchiha, to Itachi, would just spark distrust and even hatred against the Hokage. Against all Leaf Ninja.
If Sasuke had learned anything from his life, from his mistakes, from his walk of atonement, that unrest was dangerous. Peace had albeit been a fantasy until after the war.
Under no circumstances, would he jeopardize that. Not now. Not after all the sacrifices had been made to achieve it.
The Uchiha were dead. Itachi was dead. He had sacrificed his own honor for the village. Sasuke could at least honor his sacrifice.
It didnāt matter so much when he had been alone.
He was distrusted. Hated, even. Spit on by some. It had never bothered him. Perhaps, he even deserved it. He could take their scorn. Their anger. He understood.
But time went on. Things changed. Suddenly, he wasnāt alone.
It was worse when the scorn turned to his loved ones.
When the glares from the uchiwa fan on their backs werenāt just directed at him, but the thin shoulders of his wife - When shop keepers sneered at her and her round pregnant belly - When his son toddled down the street on chubby, unstable legs, clutching his fingers and people turn away from them -
Whispers of traitor. Cursed clan.
For the first time, it hurt. It made him angry.
āPapa,ā his son tugged on his sleeve.
His son was his spitting image, if not for the blush on his cheeks.
āThatās your family, Papa?ā
Sasuke had taken his son on a walk, as he did often. Sasuke has genuinely enjoyed walking. He had bought a larger parcel of land than most people in Konoha usually had. The village was expanding and he had gotten his plot quite a ways away from the city. It was large enough for the house, a yard with a garden, fenced off, with still some land, left untouched, butting against a river.
Sasuke has never told Sanada what the memorial rock had been for. He mustāve asked his mother, and that had probably been the best explanation she had come up with.
The ārockā had been own by the Uchiha since before Konoha had founded. The Ancient stones had been used by Madara to justify attacking the leaf, his anger drive by persecution. The same stones that his own father and clan and used to fuel their anger, weather justified by their own persecutions or not, and drove them to plan their own coup dāĆ©tat. A civil war.
He could feel it now. Feel the justifiable rage every time a villager looked down upon his wife and children.
He could understand what drove his predecessors to violence. The overwhelming need to protect his family and rage that came with their mistreatment. It was almost overwhelming.
Sasuke couldnāt allow this to happen. Which it why he had kept the rock. Placed as far back on his property as it could go.
And he would visit it, to remind him, that greater peace would always need to come first.
āYou are my family.ā Sasuke corrected.
His son smiled, shyly tucking his face down. His small fist tightened on his sleeve. Sasuke reaches down and swung his son up onto his hip.
āShould we go back?ā Sasuke asked. Not that he was actually asking permission. The sun lowered, ready to set soon. His young child had an early bed time.
āMama!ā Sanada replied instead.
Sasuke knew, without his sonās added kicks, that he wanted to be let down. He obliged him and watched him run off at his mother, full force. He frowned slightly, as he slammed into his motherās legs, tucking his head against her round belly.
āGentle, Sanada.ā He scolded.
His son looked up at his mother, his chin resting on her protruding tummy. āSorry Mama.ā
She brushed his thick black hair lovingly. āItās alright.ā
Sanada lifted his arms to her, and Hinata was going to comply, leaning down to lift their son.
He was there in less than a second, snatching the little boy before his mother could be taxed. Hinata just looked up and smiled at him, shaking her head lightly. She was used to his crazy by now. She easily allowed his hand to circle around her waist and let him guide her back through the untouched wild of their property.
As if she needed any of his help.
Sasuke wasnāt alone anymore. He had a family again. A family that he love more than himself. More than anything.
But he must be reminded, that even more than that, he must keep the peace.
