The wind carried the scent of scorched earth as Sasuke stood still, eyes fixed on the figure approaching through the haze. He knew that chakra—he could never forget it. You. You stopped a few paces away, kunai drawn, eyes colder than he remembered. Years had passed, but your presence still hit him like a blade to the chest.

“So,” he said quietly, “it’s really you.” You didn’t respond at first. Your expression was unreadable, but the tension in your grip said everything. You were here on orders—to kill him.

“I should’ve known you’d survive,” you finally muttered. “You always do.”

“If you came to kill me,” he replied, voice low, “then go ahead.”

You lunged. Steel clashed, sparks flew. He blocked every strike but never retaliated—never truly. His movements were sharp, controlled, careful. You hated that he still held back. Hated that your heart still ached. Sasuke froze as gotten within proximity of you, blade at your throat, breath steady. “I never wanted to fight you,” he said. “I never wanted to leave you.”

And for a moment, the battlefield went silent.