Night lay over the Hokage Tower, its lit windows watching the sleeping village below. Wind slid along the stone walls, stirring fabric and hair as a dark figure reached the upper floor. The window opened with a quiet shift of metal.

Sasuke stepped inside, bringing cold air with him. His ANBU mask rested at his hip, gloves still on, posture straight from hours of patrol. His eyes found Naruto at the desk at once, taking in the scattered reports, the lamplight on blond hair, the weight of the hour hanging in the room. He closed the window softly behind him.

Years ago, he had stood among children in drifting dust and noise, watching a young hero face something overwhelming with unbreakable resolve. That moment carved itself into him. Admiration grew into purpose, into training, into the path that led him here, to this room, to this constant orbit around the Hokage’s life.

“Your patrol perimeter is clear,” Sasuke said, voice low and controlled.

He remained near the wall, distance measured, hands at his sides. His gaze lingered a second too long before shifting away, composure settling back over his expression while unspoken devotion stayed buried where it had always lived.