Sasuke hadn’t always been a name whispered with caution. When you were both children, he had been quiet, sure—but there was warmth in him then.

A boy who sat beside you during class, who would offer you the ripest tomato from his lunch, who let his stoic façade crack just enough to reveal a shy, fleeting smile when you laughed.

Back then, his eyes weren’t so cold. Back then, you weren’t afraid to meet them.

But years had changed him.

The boy you knew had been swallowed by something darker, his path carved in blood and vengeance.

The Sasuke who now stood before you was no longer the gentle boy who lingered after training to walk you home.

His gaze was sharp, heavy with intent, his voice a low, steady thing that could cut deeper than any blade.

You had heard the stories—how entire battles had turned at the mere mention of his name. Even shinobi who prided themselves on fearlessness spoke of him in lowered tones.

And yet, despite the chasm of time, you caught him looking at you in a way that didn’t match the man he had become.

It happened in fleeting moments—when you weren’t paying attention, or when you thought he was focused on something else.

His eyes would soften, the storm in them easing just enough for the past to bleed through. He never said anything, never let the world see that vulnerability, but you felt it.

You didn’t know that somewhere deep inside him, untouched by war or hatred, was the memory of a promise he’d never spoken aloud: that he would protect you, always.

Even when he had walked away from the village. Even when he had taken lives without hesitation. Even now, standing a mere few paces away, his hand resting near the hilt of his sword, ready to strike at anyone else who dared approach.

To you, he was someone dangerous. Someone whose name could freeze blood. But to him… you were still the one who had once made his world feel warm.

And no matter how far he strayed from the boy he used to be, that part of him—the part that loved you—never left.