killianilves

[killianilves]

A New Legacy Unveiled

CHAPTER FOUR: Us Against Everything Else.

A/N: A song that reminds me of their past.

(PAST)

The air in the Rain Country was always heavy—thick with mist, tension, and the scent of distant blood. Sasuke was only fifteen then, and the weight of his clan’s massacre still etched every line of his face. His gaze, sharp as shattered obsidian, betrayed nothing. Not sorrow. Not hope. Just hunger. A desperate need for strength.

That’s when he met her.

She was quiet. Earth-style user. A kunoichi of immense control but no reputation. She wasn’t after glory—only peace. Y/n had been sent on reconnaissance, her mission clashing with Sasuke’s own. He had nearly mistaken her for an enemy—until she pulled him out of the mud, blood seeping from a gash in his leg, and said nothing.

Not even his name.

She could have asked. Anyone else would’ve. But she didn’t.

That silence… it disarmed him more than any blade ever could.

Their first conversations were never really conversations at all. He would train alone by the riverbank, and she’d train nearby—not imposing, just… existing. Sometimes, their paths would cross during missions or battles, and they moved with uncanny synergy. Earth and lightning. Precision and power. Her style grounded his, made it more fluid. He had never fought better than with her at his side.

She never tried to change him. She didn’t push, didn’t pry. When he got injured during a mission and collapsed from blood loss, she didn’t scold or panic. She cleaned the wound, stitched him with steady hands, and looked away every time his eyes tried to meet hers—because she knew. Sasuke hated pity. Hated kindness that felt like guilt.

She gave him none of it.

And that’s when he realized she understood him better than anyone.

Not even Naruto had ever seen through him like she had.

When the nights grew long and quiet, they sometimes sat near the fire, shoulders barely touching. He never said much. Neither did she. But something unspoken pulsed between them—warm, electric, dangerous.

She didn’t ask for more.

She never said she loved him.

But he knew.

And she knew… he couldn’t love her back.

Not then.

After weeks, things grew comfortable. Neither one of them confronted the tension they felt.

Not after the rain. Not after the heat between their bodies cooled into silence. He stayed. Quiet, as always, but his gaze lingered longer. He sat closer by the fire. When he trained, he no longer trained alone.

Y/n never pushed. But she noticed the shifts.

How his eyes sometimes found hers across the clearing, soft in moments he didn’t think she was watching. How he’d say her name—only her name—with a tone no one else ever got to hear. Not demanding. Not cold. Just… Sasuke.

They had missions in between. Infiltration. Intel. Sabotage. All the quiet, dirty work no one else wanted. They bled together more times than she could count. And every time they came back with cracked bones and bruised pride, she was the one who put him back together. Touched his skin without hesitation. Wrapped his ribs. Set his arm.

She still never looked him in the eye when she did.

Because she knew that if she did—he’d see too much.

But the truth was: he already did.

He began to notice her little habits. The way she cracked her knuckles before weaving a jutsu. The way her fingers shook only after a fight, never during. The way she wiped blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, teeth gritted and proud. She fought like she had something to prove—but she loved like she had nothing to lose.

And that made her dangerous. To him.

Breaking Point.

It was after a particularly devastating mission. A failed ambush. They were sent to eliminate a rogue sensory-nin cell operating in Grass, but intel was wrong. It had been a trap. Five-on-two. They barely made it out alive.

Y/n collapsed in the woods, a kunai wound torn deep into her thigh. Sasuke carried her the last two miles back to shelter—arms tight around her waist, jaw locked like he’d never lose her. Not her. He didn’t speak. Not once.

She woke hours later in a rundown inn, bathed, bandaged, and aching. He sat across the room, shirt off, binding his forearm in silence.

She stared at him—truly stared—and said, hoarse and dry:

“You stayed.”

His eyes didn’t leave the floor. “Hn.”

Y/n pushed herself up slowly, grimacing with pain. “You could’ve left me behind.”

He finally looked at her.

And something cracked.

Maybe it was the tension. The fear. The blood still crusted in their clothes. Maybe it was the thunder outside, or the realization that their world could end any day. That they were shinobi trained to die with no names on their graves.

Whatever it was, it snapped.

And he kissed her.

Rough. Urgent. Like he’d been holding back for years instead of months.

Y/n didn’t hesitate. She pulled him in like she needed him. And maybe she did. Maybe they both did. In that small inn—bodies bruised and hearts heavier than steel—they came together again.

Not gently. Not delicately.

But like two weapons desperate for warmth.

He touched her like he couldn’t stand the distance anymore. She held him like he was already fading. There was no promise in it. No softness. But there was truth. Hands, mouths, the desperate friction of two people clinging to something real in a life full of ghosts.

And when he came undone in her arms, Sasuke let out a sound that wasn’t pain or anger—but need. Just pure, human need.

He fell asleep beside her for the first time.

And for once… he didn’t dream of blood.

Left Unspoken

She noticed her body change before the second month ended.

Her chakra felt strange. Her stomach turned at odd smells. And when she tried to spar, her movements felt sluggish, imbalanced. Something was wrong—or rather, something was new.

She confirmed it herself with a test she did on herself with a stolen kit.

She was pregnant.

With his child.

And when the thought sank in—not just his, but theirs—she sat alone in a grove, fists clenched so tight her knuckles bled.

She could imagine it.

Telling him. Watching that unreadable face. Would he flinch? Would he turn away? Would he say “get rid of it”?

No. Not Sasuke. He wouldn’t say it out loud.

But he’d think it.

Because love didn’t have a place in his path. Because children were a weakness. Because he hadn’t yet fulfilled his revenge. And the last thing she ever wanted was to be the weight that dragged him down.

Before it faded to silence

It was strange, the way things changed after that night.

Not with a sudden confession. Not with a dramatic shift. Sasuke was still Sasuke—guarded, sharp, heavy with a silence that made even the wind seem too loud. But something in the way he moved around her began to soften. Slight. Subtle. Barely there unless you were watching.

And Y/n was always watching.

The first change was the way he sat.

Before, he’d always kept distance—near enough to be seen, far enough to be untouchable. After that night, he began choosing the space beside her. When they stopped to eat, he sat close enough that their arms would brush when they reached for something. When they rested under trees during long missions, he took the spot just across from her, sometimes leaning back against the same trunk.

They didn’t speak about it. But she felt it.

When her foot twisted during a jump, and she fell clumsily into a ditch, she expected him to roll his eyes, maybe throw down a sarcastic “Watch your footing.” Instead, he was the first at her side. Wordless. Hands steady. She didn’t even realize he was carrying her on his back until she looked down and saw the ground moving beneath her.

“You’re heavy,” he muttered.

But she heard the lie in it.

He didn’t let her go until they were at the next checkpoint—and even then, his eyes lingered on her ankle longer than necessary. He stayed until she was sure she could walk. He never said why.

Then came the way he looked at her.

It was never direct. Not bold or burning or playful. No. Sasuke’s gaze was quieter than fire, colder than ice, but somehow… softer now. He watched her when she wasn’t looking. She felt it when she tied up her hair. When she sharpened her kunai. When she healed her own wounds with a quiet grimace. She saw him glance at her hands once, the faint scars there from patching his up so many times.

There was respect in the way he looked at her now. Familiarity. Something that felt dangerously close to... fondness.

He never touched her in public. But in quiet moments—between dusk and dark—he began brushing strands of hair from her cheek when they sat too close. Once, when she shivered near a creek, he peeled off his cloak and dropped it on her shoulders without a word.

She looked up at him.

He looked away.

She could’ve smiled. She didn’t.

She knew that would scare him off.

Instead, she sat there, cloaked in warmth that wasn’t hers, and felt something ache in her chest. Hope. It was always the most dangerous thing to carry.

Sometimes, at night, when they made camp and built small fires, Sasuke would stay up after the others had fallen asleep. Y/n would find herself stirring—always sensitive to chakra shifts—and she’d see him there. Awake. Staring into the flames. Guard up but soul open in the quiet.

He never invited her to sit.

But when she did, he never told her to leave.

And sometimes… he spoke.

Just a little.

“They’re getting closer,” he said one night, eyes still locked on the flickering fire. “The Akatsuki.”

Y/n sat beside him, arms wrapped around her knees. “Are you scared?”

A pause.

“No,” he said. But the edge in his voice betrayed something else.

“Do you regret it?” she asked, “leaving everything behind?”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“No,” he said again. “I regret not leaving sooner.”

Y/n didn’t respond.

She didn’t need to.

That night, he fell asleep sitting up—his head tilted back against the bark of the tree. Y/n woke before dawn to find herself draped in his cloak again, even though he had none.

And when Orochimaru sent him out on a solo mission the next day, he hesitated.

Just for a moment.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said to her, his tone flat but his gaze sharp.

Y/n blinked. “You’re worried?”

“Tch.”

But she was right.

Sasuke was growing closer.

In his own way. A way built on silence and scars, but still… closer.

He didn’t know what to call it. Didn’t even want to.

But when they were paired again for another mission—one that took them through broken borders and enemy hideouts—he walked a step closer to her than he ever had before. Not in front. Not behind. Just… beside her.

And when the mission was done, and they both came back bruised and dirty, he didn’t go back to his room that night.

He followed her to hers.

And stayed.

No words. No explanations.

Just the warmth of her body beneath the sheets, and the way he wrapped his arm around her waist in the dark like something fragile he was terrified to lose.

Too Silent

The bed was cold.

It took Sasuke longer than it should’ve to notice. Maybe because her scent still clung to the sheets—earth and fire and something soft he had no name for. Maybe because part of him, foolishly, thought she had just gone to get water. Or scout the trail ahead.

But then the hours passed.

And she didn’t return.

At first, he was annoyed. She wouldn’t leave without a word. That wasn’t like her. She was quiet, yes. Thoughtful. But never reckless. Never careless. Not with him.

He waited until sundown.

By midnight, he was no longer waiting. He was searching.

Her things were gone. All of them.

No notes. No message. No broken trail to follow. Just absence. A silence so full, it screamed.

Sasuke stood in the doorway of the old hideout they’d used for the mission. His cloak fluttered in the wind, but he didn’t feel the cold. His hand flexed at his side, as if expecting her fingers to slip into his the way they did sometimes—hesitant, but warm.

They never came.

He searched the woods that night.

Then the riverbanks. Then the old mountain pass where they used to train. He followed every path she had once taken with him. Every quiet place they had once sat together. He asked no one. He didn’t want questions. Didn’t want pity. He used every ounce of his tracking skill—chakra, signs, terrain. But it was as if she had vanished without a trace.

He even asked Orochimaru, once. Coldly. Quietly.

The snake just smirked. “She was never truly ours, was she?”

Sasuke didn’t respond. He only left.

Days turned to weeks.

He checked smaller villages. He stood on rooftops in towns she’d once mentioned in passing. The world felt unbearably loud without her. And yet all he could hear was her silence.

He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter.

That she was just a comrade. A moment. A mistake.

But at night, when he rested his head on stone instead of her shoulder, the ache said otherwise.

Sometimes, he dreamed of her voice. Calm. Even. Unbothered.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sasuke. I’m not going anywhere.”

But she had.

And he hadn’t been able to stop it.

He wondered if she had run. If she was afraid. If he had done something—said too little, or too much. Maybe he had stared too long. Maybe he let too much show.

He tried to forget her.

He tried to drown himself in vengeance again. In missions. In fights.

But no matter how hard he burned… her absence always remained.

Years passed.

And he never once heard her name again.

Not on bingo books. Not in whispers. Not even rumors.

Which only made the quiet worse.

Dead? Alive?

He didn’t know.

And that—more than anything—haunted him.

Because for the first time in his life…

He hadn’t let someone go.

He had lost her.

And it haunted him. Wherever he went, there was a sick reminder of her. Somehow

TAGLIST: @crumbl-pie @minidemont @mutsu422

[killianilves]

Hii! Would you write for Itachi by any chance? :3

Yeah of course!! Is there anything specific you'd like for the story?

[killianilves]

I saw your accepted requests and wanted to request sort of a spin-off of your Sasuke Uchiha story!! Like, the main story is the same but I'd love if reader got pregnant again and the reaction of the twins, sasuke and everyone else to it <33 totally okay if not!!

A/n: Thank you for the wonderful Idea!! Feel free to request! I vary from AOT, Naruto, and MHA <3

Baby steps.

The first dinner had gone better than any of them expected. The quiet laughter of Shokyō and Shinosuke still lingered in the air even after they went to bed.

The house had settled into silence. Y/n stood at the sink, rinsing the last of the dishes. The moonlight glowed softly across the compound, casting shadows on the wooden floor. Sasuke hadn’t left.

He stood by the doorway, arms crossed, but not cold—just still. Watching her.

“You’re not going back yet?” Y/n asked gently, not turning to face him.

“…No,” he said simply.

Silence stretched, not uncomfortable. Familiar.

After a moment, he walked over, slowly, until he was behind her. He didn’t touch her. Not yet. Just watched the soft movements of her hands.

“I missed this,” he murmured.

Y/n stilled. Her fingers trembled slightly beneath the water. Then she shut off the tap and finally turned. He was close now. Close enough for her to see the wear in his eyes. Close enough for her to feel the weight of all those years they’d lost. She didn’t ask anything. Didn’t speak.

Sasuke leaned in slowly, almost hesitant. But when their lips finally met—it wasn’t a kiss of caution. It was starved, aching. A silent apology. A silent I missed you.

And when her hands found his shoulders—when his arms wrapped around her waist—it was like years melted away in a single breath.

That night, beneath the roof of the once-lonely compound, something new began. Something alive.

Weeks passed.

They all settled into a rhythm. Sasuke didn’t leave. He stayed at the compound, helped cook, trained the twins, sat in silence beside Y/n when the nights got too quiet. But one morning, Y/n didn’t get up.

She stayed curled beneath the blankets, one arm draped over her eyes. Her stomach twisted in discomfort. The smell of miso soup from the kitchen made her gag.

She barely made it to the bathroom in time.

When she emerged, pale and disoriented, Shokyō was already by her side.

“Mom?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” Y/n said weakly, brushing her hair back. But the next day, it happened again. And the next. That’s when she quietly went to the village clinic alone. No one knew. Not even Sasuke.

She sat in the small white room, the medic-nin gently checking her vitals, asking questions.

Then, after a scan and a few heartbeats of silence, the medic smiled.

“Congratulations… you’re about five weeks pregnant.”

Y/n’s heart stopped. She couldn’t speak for a moment. Another child. Another life.

That night, the stars were out again. Sasuke had just finished folding the laundry, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.

Y/n stood by the doorway, holding a piece of paper from the clinic. She looked down at it, then back at him.

“Sasuke,” she said quietly. He looked up.

Her hand trembled as she passed the note to him. He read it. And then he froze. No words. Just silence.

Until he slowly looked up again, his eyes wide—not shocked. Just… soft. Gentle. Something rare.

"You’re…?”

She nodded once. “Yes.”

For a moment, all he could do was stare at her. Then, slowly, he stood. Walked over. Pressed his hand gently to her stomach, not saying a word.

This time, he was there. From the beginning.

“I’ll be here,” he whispered. “I'll be here for their first cry, their first word they're first steps.” He muttered pulling her into a hug before whispering "And I'll be here with you through it all"

Y/n’s eyes filled with quiet tears.

A few days later, a small box was placed on the twins’ futon.

Inside: A small shirt and a onesie, a small white onesie. And a shirt that says future favourite

Shokyō stared at them.

Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she gently picked one up, the tiny fabric almost weightless in her grasp. She looked up slowly—and the moment her eyes met Y/n’s in the doorway, she just knew.

“I’m gonna be… a big sister?” she mouthed, barely a sound coming out from all the emotions.

Y/n smiled softly. “Yes, you are.”

Tears welled up in Shokyō’s eyes before she could stop them, and she ran straight into her mother’s arms, hugging her tightly. Her shoulders shook.

Sasuke reached out and gently ruffled her hair.

Meanwhile, Shinosuke stood beside the box with a deadpan expression.

“…So we’re poor now?”

Everyone blinked.

He held up the onesie between two fingers. “That’s why we’re wearing clothes that don’t fit?Is that why Shokyō’s crying?”

Y/n blinked. “No, sweetheart—”

Shinosuke squinted. “It’s okay, I guess. I knew it’d happen one day.”

Sasuke tried to stifle a sigh yet also tried not to chuckle at his own sons clueless. “That’s not what this is.”

Shinosuke looked at them. “Then why do why are the clothes you bought us too small for us?”

Shokyō laughed through her tears, hiding her face in Y/n’s shoulder.

Y/n chuckled softly. “No one’s poor. You’re getting a new sibling.”

Shinosuke paused. Stared at the onesie again.

“Oh.” He looked dumbfounded then sighed before speaking. “…Tch,” Shinosuke muttered, rolling his eyes and tossing the onesie back in the box. “Could’ve just told us instead of being dramatic.”

But later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Shinosuke lingered quietly by Y/n’s side. He didn’t say a word. Just pressed his small hand gently to her stomach for a few seconds.Then turned and left like nothing happened.But Y/n noticed the tiniest smile playing on his lips as he walked away.

A/n: This is not part of the main story, just a litte au!! <3

[killianilves]

Hello my friend! I just came across your account so I wanted to say that I love your stories and everything! I also wanted to know if you are doing any stories requests or anything? ✨💖🌌☺️🦋🏳️‍🌈🍓✨

Noo!! I actually don't mind!! So feel free to request!! <3

[killianilves]

A New Legacy Unveiled

CHAPTER THREE: A day out.

The plates were washed, one by one, in slow, thoughtful silence. The gentle clinking of ceramic and the steady hush of running water were the only sounds in the kitchen now. The twins had gone off to their rooms—tired, full, happy. And yet, Sasuke hadn’t moved. He lingered.

Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, he stayed rooted in place like he was still sorting through something unsaid. The same man who never stayed anywhere longer than necessary now stood in the soft light of a home he’d once thought lost to him. Y/n glanced at him once as she dried a plate, then again when he didn’t so much as shift. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was thick—but calm, like a blanket settling over the both of them. “You’re still here,” she murmured finally,

placing the last dish in the rack. “I am.” She turned, drying her hands with a cloth, eyes soft but searching. “Didn’t think you’d stay long after dinner. I figured you’d head back. To Sakura. Sarada.” There was no bitterness in her tone. Only quiet honesty.

Sasuke looked at her—not sharply, not with avoidance. Just looked. And for a breath too long, didn’t answer. “I was going to,” he said at last. “But… I didn’t want to. Not yet.” Her expression wavered. Not with surprise, but something gentler. Hope, maybe. Or something older. Familiar. “Sasuke…” she said, uncertain. “I just wanted to stand here,” he said quietly, “while you washed the dishes. Like an idiot.” Y/n huffed a small, surprised laugh—one that cracked through the tension like sunlight through a window. But when he took a small step closer, the air shifted. His eyes didn’t leave hers. He was always careful. Always composed. But now? Now he looked like a man fighting off the hunger of missing something for far too long. Her voice dipped. “Are you really going to stand there all night?” Sasuke didn’t answer with words. He stepped forward, hand brushing against her wrist. Lightly, just enough to anchor her there. His other hand found her waist—slowly, like asking. Y/n didn’t pull away. Their lips met in the quiet, slow and hesitant—at first. Like testing something fragile. But Sasuke… gods, Sasuke kissed her like a man trying not to fall apart. Like someone who hadn’t tasted something real in years. Like he was trying not to need. But he did. And Y/n felt it. Felt it in the way his fingers curled into the back of her shirt. In the way he exhaled into her mouth like breathing finally made sense again.

When they broke apart, just barely, his forehead pressed against hers. His voice was hoarse. “I should go.” But he didn’t move. And she didn’t ask him to.

The room was dark, but not cold. The air had long since settled, still and quiet, with only the soft hum of the wind brushing past paper walls. Sasuke didn’t sleep much. He never really had—not since he was a boy. Not after war. Not after everything. But this night… he slept.

Maybe not deeply, not fully—but enough. Enough to know where he was. Enough to feel the warmth beneath his arm. Y/n's back was pressed to his chest, her breathing steady, soft. Her hair had slipped loose in sleep, fanning against the pillow and curling against his shoulder. One of her hands had ended up atop his, fingers curled loosely in the space between.

He hadn’t meant to hold her like this. Not so tightly. Not like he was afraid. But sometime during the night, the walls he’d spent years building had lowered without permission, and now he held her like a man afraid of losing something twice.

His fingers stayed curled into the hem of her shirt, knuckles brushing her skin. His legs had tangled with hers. His face buried in the crown of her hair like it had always belonged there. She didn’t move. She didn’t pull away. And Sasuke… Sasuke stayed.

He hadn’t meant to. He wasn’t supposed to. But everything about this place—the scent of her, the faint sound of the twins talking in their sleep, the rhythm of a quiet home—felt like a memory he’d long buried but never stopped wanting. There was a time he thought letting go was survival.

But here, now… he realized maybe he was just tired of letting go. So he stayed. He stayed even when his body ached from the softness of the mattress, so unfamiliar to someone who lived most of his life on stone and earth. He stayed even when dawn crept through the wooden slats of the window. He stayed because the warmth of her beside him felt more real than anything else. And gods help him—he didn’t want to lose it again. The scent of something burning dragged him awake.

Pancake War

At first, it was faint. But then—

“SHOKYŌ YOU IDIOT, THAT’S MY PANCAKE!”

“You threw batter at me first!”

Sasuke blinked awake, brow twitching. A loud clank of a spatula hitting the floor followed, along with hysterical laughter and what sounded like pancake batter splattering against the wall. He sighed, sitting up slowly, the blanket slipping off his bare chest. The spot beside him was empty—still warm, but empty. Y/n was gone. For a moment it scared him, he felt dread. What if she left again? What uf he wasn’t good enough? What if she found better? Did he not change enough? The only thing that grounded him was the twins bantering.

No she couldn't have left. They were still here. Still in this house, in this home.

Another thud. A yelp. And the unmistakable screech of something frying too fast. He stood, tugging on his shirt lazily and stepping into the hall, drawn to the growing chaos. In the kitchen, it looked like a flour bomb had exploded.

Shinosuke stood with a mixing bowl raised like a weapon, his face smeared with batter and betrayal. Shokyō had pancake batter on her cheek, a smirk on her lips, and was dual-wielding spatulas like a menace.

“This isn’t training,” Shinosuke hissed. “Why are you making it training?”

“Because,” she said smugly, flipping a pancake one-handed and catching it with a wink, “breakfast is a battle, little brother.”

“We’re twins.”

“Still your older sister by thirty seconds.”

Sasuke stood there, arms crossed, watching from the doorway like a ghost judging a circus.

“What are you doing?” he finally asked.

Shokyō turned, grinning, shameless. “Good morning~! We’re making breakfast.” “I noticed.”

“We’re being responsible adults,” she added, slinging a ladle full of batter toward Shinosuke with no remorse. “DUCK—!”

Shinosuke barely dodged, and the glob smacked the wall with a wet splat. Sasuke let out a breath through his nose. “...Where’s your mother?” “Out back. Getting herbs.” There was a beat. Relief washed over him. Like a heavy stone lifted off his chest. Another pancake was flipped mid-air. Sasuke sighed and moved forward, wordlessly taking a pan from the stove and gently fixing the flame. Shokyō grinned, nudging her brother. “You think he’s gonna help us?”

Shinosuke grumbled, wiping batter from his brow. “I think he’s gonna save the kitchen from you.” But Sasuke didn’t scold.

Didn’t bark. He just quietly joined them, flipping a pancake with skill he hadn’t used in over a decade. And in that small, messy, chaotic kitchen—amid flour clouds and burnt edges—Sasuke smiled. A real one. Just barely. But it was there. Because for the first time, he wasn’t dreaming about the future he once longed with Y/n. He was living it.

Y/n pushed the sliding door open with her hip, arms full of freshly picked herbs, her fingers still damp with morning dew. The scent of thyme and chives clung to her sleeves, but as soon as she stepped inside “I swear if you throw one more spoonful—”

“You’ll what? Cry into your eggs again like last time?” She paused. There, in the kitchen, was absolute domestic warfare. Flour still hung in the air like fog. A half-melted stick of butter was sliding dangerously close to the edge of the counter. Shokyō stood with one leg braced on a stool like a pirate queen, a ladle in one hand, and a spatula in the other. Shinosuke had a kitchen towel tied around his neck like a cape, wielding a mixing bowl like a shield. In the middle of it all—calm, quiet, entirely unfazed—was Sasuke. He stood barefoot at the stove, flipping a pancake with casual precision, his expression unreadable but unmistakably... soft. Not smiling, but not distant either. His shoulders were relaxed. His posture easy. Like he’d done this a hundred times before. Like this was his place. Y/n watched him for a moment. Just watched. His sleeve were rolled up. A bit of batter was on the side of his hand. There was flour on his shirt. He hadn’t even noticed her come in. The twins hadn’t either.

“Mom,” Shinosuke called without looking, trying to fend off Shokyō with a wooden spoon. “Shokyō’s breaking the laws of cooking and nature again.” “Oh please,” Shokyō huffed, flipping a pancake onto a plate with a flourish. “The only thing broken here is your pride.” Y/n shook her head, amused, and stepped inside fully. “I was gone for ten minutes.” Sasuke finally looked up, meeting her eyes. There was a pause, a flicker of something soft passing between them. “You left them alone in a kitchen,” he said, voice low, calm. “That was your first mistake.”

She let out a quiet laugh, setting the herbs down on the counter and brushing flour off a stool. “And you joined them willingly. That was yours.”

He didn’t deny it. He just flipped another pancake with a quiet hn. Shokyō, meanwhile, caught sight of her mother and lit up. “We’re making breakfast! He's actually kind of good at it.” “‘Kind of’?” Sasuke muttered under his breath.

“He’s not bad,” Shinosuke added, grudgingly. “For someone who looks like he hasn’t touched a stove since the Second Shinobi War.” Y/n covered her mouth to hide a laugh, eyes bright. Sasuke didn’t react, but he definitely flipped that pancake harder than necessary. “Breakfast is almost ready,” he said quietly. “Just… try not to kill each other before then.” “No promises,” the twins said in perfect unison, glaring at each other. Y/n leaned on the counter, chin resting on her hand as she looked around the room—the flour-covered counters, the half-peeled oranges, the clumsy stack of plates—and let herself feel it: This wasn’t a fantasy. This wasn’t some bittersweet dream she'd wake up from.

This was her family. Messy. Loud. Real.

And Sasuke Uchiha was making pancakes in his home, in a home that's been broken for years and only now being juilt again. By her, Shokyo, Shinosuke, and Sasuke. A family of four in the kitchen. She looked at him again, and this time, he looked back—eyes steady, warm in that quiet way only he could be. “You’re staying for breakfast?” she asked, not teasing, just softly. Sasuke looked at her for a breath. Then gave a faint nod. “If there’s any left by the time I’m done flipping.” Y/n smiled.

Dad.

And in the chaos of batter-splattered walls and bickering twins, her heart felt full in a way it hadn’t in years. The last pancake had been devoured, and the table was a quiet mess of syrup-streaked plates and crumpled napkins. The scent of cinnamon and fried batter still clung to the air, sweet and soft like a blanket wrapped around the morning. Shokyō leaned back in her chair, arms stretched over her head, hair half up and half unraveling. “That was actually really good,” she said, glancing at Sasuke. “Color me surprised.” Shinosuke snorted. “You had three.” “Don’t judge me. Pancakes cooked by a former rogue shinobi hit different.” Sasuke raised a brow but didn’t reply. He was finishing his tea in quiet sips, elbow resting loosely on the table, looking entirely at ease for someone who used to walk around like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Y/n was still in the kitchen, cleaning up what little had survived the war zone from earlier, her hum barely audible from behind the counter. Shokyō twisted a bit in her seat, turning toward Sasuke. Her voice was more hesitant now—gentle under all that usual sass. “Um,” she started, eyes flicking to Shinosuke briefly before back to Sasuke. “Can we go out? Just... to look around Konoha?” Sasuke paused, setting down his tea cup. “Explore?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I mean, it’s weird, being here. But kinda cool. We haven’t really seen anything except rooftops and alleys before, y’know? Shinosuke didn’t say anything, but his gaze quietly agreed. He wasn’t the type to ask out loud, but the way he shifted in his seat—waiting for an answer—spoke volumes. Sasuke looked between the two of them, then gave a small nod. “Alright.” Shokyō blinked. “Really?”

“You can’t learn about where you come from by sitting inside.” A smile started to bloom across her face, wide and bright and a little too proud. “Sweet.” She jumped to her feet, half-tugging her brother up with her, her energy suddenly contagious. But just before she turned to leave the table, she paused. And it came out fast. Like she hadn’t meant to say it, or had been holding it in so long that it finally spilled.

“Thanks, Dad.”

It was quiet.The words hung there, still and soft and full of weight. Sasuke didn’t move. He didn’t blink. But something in his eyes shifted—just a flicker. Like the sky cracking open for a second to let sunlight through.

Shinosuke was already pulling his sister toward the hallway, trying to make her move before she made things awkward. “Let’s just go before you say something else that makes things weird.” Shokyō only laughed. “You’re just mad I said it first.” The sound of their footsteps disappeared down the hall. Sasuke sat alone at the table for a moment longer, tea cooling between his fingers. Y/n peeked around the corner, drying her hands on a cloth. “You alright?” He didn’t answer right away. Then, softly, almost to himself: “She called me Dad.” Y/n’s voice warmed. “I heard.”

Sasuke’s lips pressed together, but the corner of his mouth lifted just enough to be noticed. A single word. That’s all it had taken to settle something heavy in his chest. Not fix it. Not erase years. But settle it. She had called him Dad. And it mattered more than she’d ever know.

A Family Stroll

The sun hung lazily above the village, warm and golden as its rays trickled through rows of colorful awnings. The air was rich with the aroma of sizzling skewers, fresh dumplings, and sweet bean cakes. Laughter and chatter bubbled all around, a sharp contrast to the unspoken tension that clung to the Uchiha family like a second skin. Sasuke walked quietly with you at his side, his arm occasionally brushing yours—almost like muscle memory. You were still recovering, wrapped in a light cloak, your steps cautious but steady. The children walked ahead: Shokyō in her usual quiet grace, wide-eyed as she flitted from stall to stall, the curiosity she had long suppressed bubbling up in bursts of wonder. “Mother, they sell candied mochi on a stick here,” she called back, voice bright for once. “And—look, grilled dango! It smells amazing!” You gave a small smile. “Then go ahead, Shokyō. Try everything.”

Shinosuke, on the other hand, walked beside her with his hands tucked in his sleeves, unimpressed and unbothered. He surveyed the stalls like a strategist sizing up terrain—aloof and distant. If Shokyō was light, Shinosuke was dusk: quiet, wary, and far too mature for a boy his age. Then—fate, ever cruel—stepped in. Sakura’s voice broke through the crowd. “Sarada, wait—get the soy sauce brand with the red cap, not the blue—” You turned just in time to see them. Sakura and Sarada, grocery bags in hand. Both froze mid-step. The sun filtered through the leaves, and for a moment, everything seemed to still.

Your breath caught, but you stepped forward, offering a respectful nod. “Sakura-san. Thank you... for helping me. Back then.” Sakura blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Her hand tightened on the grocery bag. “It’s my job,” she said after a pause, eyes flickering briefly to Sasuke—then back to you. “But… I’m glad you’re recovering.” Beside her, Sarada looked at Shokyō with an unreadable expression. The last time they’d met, they’d been on opposite ends of a sparring match. But now, with the scent of grilled meats in the air and the villagers all around—it was harder to maintain that burning rivalry. Shokyō gave her a soft, almost shy smile. “Hey. You feeling better after training?”

Sarada hesitated. The memory still stung, but the smile disarmed her. Just a little. She gave a stiff nod. “I’m fine.” Shinosuke didn’t even glance their way. He kept walking, disinterested, eyes already trained on the next stall. Sasuke watched him for a beat before clearing his throat. “They’re… adjusting to the village,” he said, voice low but firm. “This outing was to help them see what life here can be like. They’ll be staying.” Sakura stiffened at the words. Staying. Not visiting. Not passing through. Staying. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. Sarada looked away, her fingers tightening around her bag. She knew it already—but hearing him say it like that still scraped at something raw inside her. You stood quiet, sensing the tension but refusing to shrink beneath it. “I’m not trying to cause trouble,” you said gently. “Just… giving them a chance to know their father’s world.” Sasuke’s eyes flicked toward you, then to the girls. “It’s time they had that. All of it.” Sakura didn’t answer. Not directly. She simply adjusted the groceries in her arms and gave you a nod. “Then... welcome to the leaf village..” The tone was kind, but distant. Polished. A diplomat’s mask. She turned to leave. Sarada lingered a moment longer. She looked at Shokyō, then at Sasuke. Her eyes narrowed—but not in hate. More like confusion… and something akin to mourning. Then she followed after her mother. As the crowd swallowed them up, Shokyō let out a quiet breath. “They’re… nice,” she said softly. “I feel as if they dislike us..”

“They don’t,” you murmured, brushing her hair back. “They’re just unsure. This is hard for them, too.”

“Hn.” Shinosuke returned, biting into a steamed bun. “Their problem. Not ours.” Sasuke finally allowed himself to speak more gently. “It’s not about blame. It’s about healing.” He looked at all three of you, the quiet in his voice louder than any declaration. “I won’t let the past destroy what we have now. Not again.

Claw machine

The smell of takoyaki and dango hangs in the air, and laughter from nearby children echoes faintly. Y/n is seated on a bench with a small cup of tea, watching over her children with a soft smile as they explore. Sasuke stands nearby, casually leaning against a post, arms folded. Y/n is beside him, their arms occasionally brushing. Shinosuke and Shokyō are ahead, drawn to a small game corner. Colorful lights flash gently from a claw machine filled with adorable little stuffed animals. Shokyō leaned in close, eyes narrowing behind the glass. “Come on… just a little to the left…” Her tongue poked out slightly in concentration as she maneuvered the joystick, lining the claw up with a black-and-white dog plushie. She pressed the button. The claw dropped, clasped the plushie—and immediately lost its grip, the toy flopping pathetically back into the pile. Shokyō let out a breath, puffing her cheeks. “Seriously?” Behind her, Shinosuke crossed his arms. “You’re taking too long. Just let me try.”

“I’ve almost got it,” she snapped, shoulders stiff. “Besides, I don’t want to win it because you helped. I want to do it myself.” Shinosuke rolled his eyes but stayed back, silently watching her try again. Honoka glanced over and chuckled softly. “She’s stubborn,” she murmured to Y/n. “Gets that from you.” Sasuke tilted his head. “No, that’s definitely from me.” Y/n smirked knowingly. “Mm… fair.”

Shokyō pushed another coin into the machine and tried again. This time she lined up a small cat plush with a kunai on its back. Again, the claw gripped, lifted——and dropped. Her shoulders slumped. Before Shinosuke could step forward again, a shadow passed between them and the machine. A gloved hand gently slid another coin into the slot.

Shokyō looked up sharply. “Dad?” Sasuke didn’t answer. He merely crouched slightly, one hand on the joystick, the other in his pocket. Silent. Calm. Even Shinosuke blinked in mild surprise. “…He’s seriously playing a claw machine?” Y/n tilted her head with a warm, almost amused expression.

The claw moved with eerie precision under Sasuke’s control—slow, deliberate, like every mission he’d ever undertaken. He didn’t even blink as he positioned it over the same plush. Shokyō held her breath. Even Shinosuke leaned in. Sasuke pressed the button. The claw dropped. The metal prongs clasped the toy—tight this time. No slip. The plush rose, swung slightly, then— Thunk. It landed in the prize chute with a soft sound. Shokyō stared, speechless. Sasuke retrieved the plush, turned to his daughter, and held it out with a slight raise of his brow. “For the kunoichi who won’t give up.” Her eyes widened. Then, slowly, she smiled. Not smug. Not sarcastic. Just… genuinely touched.

She took the plush with both hands, hugging it close to her chest. “…Thanks, Dad.” Sasuke gave a rare, small smile. Barely there—but unmistakable. Shinosuke clicked his tongue and muttered, “Show-off.” But there was a twitch of amusement in his voice. Y/n leaned into Sasuke’s side slightly. “That was sweet.” He didn’t answer, but his pinky brushed against hers for just a second—quiet affection.

Shokyo put the small plushie chained to her belt.

A/N: The next chapter hint: Delving into the past of Sasuke and Y/n!!

Chapter Four: Us Against the world.

[killianilves]

pspspsps

[killianilves]

ABSOLUTELY loved your sasuke fic! I'm currently rewatching it and just got to episode 68 of shippuden so the brain rot for fanfics is really strong!! I love the current dynamic of every character, and the jealousy and sadness from Sakura and Sarada, but its such a good plot point for potential drama, etc! I'd love to see Sasuke being affectionate with reader in a gentle way and Sakura just seething over it lmaaoo but im so excited for the next chapters and where its headed! the kids are so cute it makes me wanna die enwnfwefnwefw

Chapter two is out, m'dear!! Im already working on Chapters 3 and 4!! <33 Chapter two def has alot of cute scenes of Shinosuke and shokyo!!o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

[killianilves]

MASTERLIST

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*•*¨*•.¸¸☆*•

A Legacy Unvailed

CHAPTERS: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

• Baby steps. Sasuke x reader. - AU

-A fiction where Sasuke had twins from a past journey partner. You who did not tell him that you were pregnant with his children, afraid of his rejection left him without a word to raise the two children on your own. Shinosuke Ans Shokyo Uchiha. After years of being a single mother, sickness caught after you. While the twins sought after their lost father, who had now had a child of his own. Sarada.

Pairings: Sasuke x Reader

Theme: Angst + fluff.

[killianilves]

Summary:After settling down in the Uchiha compound, Y/n wanted to prepare dinner. Sasuke was asked to go to the market with Shinosuke. Sasuke took the time to get to know his kids better. Finally, having their first whole family dinner <3

A New Legacy Unveiled

Chapter Two: One Whole Family.

She had expected it to feel cold, maybe even haunted, after all the years it had been left untouched. But instead, it felt like it had been waiting. There was dust, yes, and the air smelled like old wood and silence, but the bones of the home were strong. It didn’t creak like it should have. It felt... patient. Y/n set the bags down near the kitchen, brushing a thin layer of dust off the counter with her sleeve. She had not heard much about every detail that happened in this compound, in Sasukes home. She glanced over her shoulder where Sasuke still stood near the doorway, looking at the space like it was a battlefield. Memories hit him like a wave.

"Could you go to the market?" she asked, voice light but tired, breaking through the eerie silence."Just a few things for dinner—carrots, tofu, leeks... maybe rice if you can."

Sasuke’s gaze shifted to her, but she was already turning away, tying her long hair back with a piece of red string. She spoke to him like no years had passed. Like this was normal. Like asking him to go shopping with their son wasn’t the most surreal thing in the world. Like this had not been their first day in the same home, like a family. Like she had not kept his children away from him, yet in a way, he didn't hold that against her. He didn’t respond right away. Then, after a quiet pause, he looked to the hallway. Shinosuke was there, leaning against the frame with arms crossed, his eyes sharp as glass. Still. Waiting. Sasuke gave the smallest nod. "Come on."

Father/Son shopping

The market was alive, loud, and full of color. People moved around them in all directions—laughing, shouting, haggling over prices, bumping into one another with baskets and bags, and wide smiles. Shinosuke hated it instantly. Shinosuke hated moud places. He stayed close but not too close, walking a step behind his father like a shadow that refused to be caught in the light. His arms were still crossed. His eyes flicked from face to face, stalled to stall. He didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. And every time someone shouted or laughed too loudly, his jaw tightened. Sasuke noticed. Sasuke wouldn't call it desperation, but he wanted to get to know him, to talk to him. He never thought nor imagined himself with a son, especially when the only child he knew of was Sarada. He didn’t say anything, but he noticed. Trying to break the awkward silence, Sasuke spoke or more like muttered. “She said carrots. Leeks. Tofu,” stopping near a stall with bundles of vegetables tied in twine. Shinosuke carried the basket and stepped forward and began picking out the leeks without a word, moving efficiently, like someone who had done this before. He checked for bruises, softness, and rot. No wasted motion. No small talk. Sasuke watched. “You take after her,” he said, handing over a few coins. Shinosuke snorted. “You say that like it’s a bad thing." “It’s not.” That was all. They moved to the next stall in silence. The longer they walked, the easier it became—not comfortable, not yet, but less stiff. Shinosuke answered short questions. Sasuke didn’t press when he didn’t. Occasionally, someone recognized Sasuke and offered a nod or a curious look. Some glanced at Shinosuke and whispered behind their hands. The Uchiha name still carried weight. Especially with two new ones bearing it now. At the rice vendor, Sasuke passed a basket into his son’s hands. The boy took it without protest. “You cook?” Sasuke asked, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Shinosuke scoffed. “No. Shokyō’s better at that. it's become her and Mom's hobby." A small, almost amused flicker passed through Sasuke’s eyes. “I see.” Shinosuke paused—just for a second—but it was enough. “She said she wants to cook tonight,” muttered, not meeting his father’s gaze. “Even if she’s tired.” Sasuke nodded. His voice was low. “She always did like taking care of others. Even when no one took care of her.” It wasn’t a compliment. It wasn’t a confession. It was just... true. At the last stall, an old woman greeted Sasuke warmly, her wrinkled hands busy tying up a bag of bean sprouts. “Sasuke-san, it’s been a while.” Sasuke gave his usual reply: “Hn.” The woman’s eyes shifted to Shinosuke. “Your son?” Before the boy could tense, before he could give the sharp, practiced line he’d clearly used a hundred times before—Sasuke answered. “Yes.” Simple. Solid. It had always been a fact. Shinosuke looked down at the basket in his hands. It felt heavy all of a sudden. Not with food—but with something else. Something harder to name. “She’ll like this,” he said softly. Sasuke didn’t answer.

Closing distance

They walked home side by side this time. Not ahead. Not behind. Side by side.

The compound door creaked softly as it shut behind them. Shokyō looked up from the low table, where she had already set out some plates and was slicing radish with practiced care. Her long black hair was pulled back, and a towel hung from her shoulder like a badge of duty. She blinked when she saw them return. “That was fast,” she said. Then, to Shinosuke, a faint smirk tugging at her lips: “Did he say anything weird?” Shinosuke gave a roll of his eyes. “Define weird.” Sasuke didn’t respond, only moved to set the bag of rice down on the counter while Shinosuke placed the vegetables beside it. Y/N emerged from one of the side rooms with a dish rag in hand, her expression softening when she saw them both back, safe and whole. “Thank you,” she said, not quite looking at Sasuke as she took the tofu and carrots. “This should be enough for a good dinner.” “I can help,” Shokyō offered, already brushing off her hands. “I said I’d do it tonight.” “You could,” Sasuke said, pausing just slightly before speaking. “But I think… you and your brother should look around first. Pick out your rooms.” Both twins blinked. Shokyō tilted her head. “You’re cooking?” “I’m helping,” he corrected, already taking the cutting board from her. “Go.” Shinosuke didn’t argue. He turned, brushing past Shokyō with a quiet mutter of “Come on.” But as they left the kitchen and disappeared into the hall, Shokyō tossed one last suspicious glance back—like she didn’t quite trust Sasuke not to mess up a perfectly good pot of soup.

Y/n watched them go, a small smile lingering on her lips. The silence that followed was oddly calm. It's not tense. Just new. Sasuke washed his hands at the sink, and sleeve rolled slightly past his forearms. Y/N was already peeling the carrots with quick, deft movements, her hair falling from its tie as she leaned forward. The same way she used to, years ago. Nothing had changed about the way she moved—sharp, efficient, graceful. It was maddening. “What’s funny?” she asked without looking up. Sasuke raised a brow. “Did I laugh?” “Not out loud.” She slid him a knife and pointed to the tofu. “You’re thinking too loud.” He took the knife silently and started slicing. It wasn’t perfect. The angles were off. The pressure is uneven. But he was trying. “They seem used to doing this together,” Sasuke said after a moment. Y/n nodded. “They are. We didn’t have much choice. They had to grow up quickly.” There was no bitterness in her voice. No blame. Just a truth spoken plainly, like steam rising from miso. “We moved a lot." She added softly, Sasuke jerked an eyebrow confused why as they would move a lot. "Why?" He asked. “Kept us safe. Kept the village guessing.” She paused, then added, “Kept the kids from being anyone’s target.” Sasuke nodded slowly. “You did well.” That caught her off guard. Her hands paused in the middle of slicing, and she looked at him. Really looked. Sasuke met her gaze, and for the first time in years, it didn’t feel like they were on opposite sides of a war. “You didn’t have to say that,” she said, quietly. “I know.”

The broth simmered as the silence curled around them again, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind. It was the kind that waited—gently, patiently—for something real to be said.

Sasuke stirred the pot once, slowly. The scent of tofu and garlic filled the kitchen. Y/n

reached for a bundle of dried seaweed, tearing it into smaller pieces with her fingers. “What about spicy food?” he asked suddenly. Y/n blinked. “You mean… the twins?” He didn’t look up. “Yeah.” “Shokyō loves it. The spicier, the better. She’ll eat those spicy hot ramen until her eyes water. Shinosuke says it’s a waste of pain.” Sasuke’s mouth twitched. “So she takes after you.” Y/n huffed a quiet laugh, sliding the seaweed into the pot. “Maybe. He’s more like you in that way.” Sasuke, let that sit for a moment. Then: “And sweets?” “Shokyō has a weakness for dango,” she said, rinsing the radish slices. “Don’t let her fool you. She’ll say she hates sugar, but I’ve seen her sneak three sticks and hide the wrappers.” “And Shinosuke?” Sasuke asked. “No sweet tooth. He says it dulls his senses when he trains.” Sasuke nodded slowly. “That sounds like him.” Y/n glanced at him sideways. “You got all this from one market run?” “Some of it,” he said, quietly. “The rest… I’m asking now.”

She looked at him again, this time longer. The pot began to boil again, and Sasuke lowered the heat. “You’re trying,” she said softly. Not surprised. Just observing. He didn’t answer that. Instead, he picked up the bowl of chopped green onions. “Colors?” Y/n blinked. “You mean favorite colors?” Sasuke gave a slow nod. “Shokyō likes soft colors. Pastels. She won’t admit it, but she has a lavender scarf she refuses to give away. Shinosuke…” she trailed off, then smiled faintly. “He always wears black. Even in summer.” “He’d fit in here, then,” Sasuke muttered, glancing at the old wooden beams and the dull gray of the walls. “You both like cats too,” she added lightly, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Though he won’t say it out loud.” Sasuke stirred the soup again. “What about dogs?” “Shokyō loves them. She keeps trying to sneak strays into every place we’ve lived.” Her smile deepened. “Once, she brought in three mutts and said they were her ‘personal guards.’ Shinosuke nearly had a meltdown.” Sasuke let out a low breath—close to a laugh, if it could be called that. “Do they fight a lot?” he asked.

Y/N gave him a look. “They’re siblings.” He let out a short hum. “But do they get along?” “They do,” she said after a pause. “They bicker. Constantly. But they know how to protect each other. They don’t always say it, but they’re close.” He gave a nod. Quiet. Thoughtful. Then added, “He said Shokyō’s the better cook.” “Mm. She learned fast. Shinosuke can do it if he has to, but he prefers to train. Says standing still too long makes him feel soft.” Sasuke blinked slowly. “That… definitely sounds like something I’d say.” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. She passed him the ladle. Sasuke took it and began scooping the broth into bowls, one after another. Y/n watched as he moved—not flawless, not graceful, but careful.

Four plates.

Evening crept in gently through the old windows of the Uchiha compound, painting the wooden floors with streaks of warm orange light. Somewhere deeper inside, doors slid open and shut, footsteps padded over tatami, and the sound of Shokyō humming drifted faintly down the hallway.

Shinosuke had chosen the room farthest from the main entrance—quiet, shaded, with a view of the garden that had long since grown wild. His bedroll was already neatly laid out. His blades—two kunai, a training tantō, and an older blade Honoka had given him—were stacked in exact order beside it. Minimal. Clean. His.

Shokyō, on the other hand, had claimed the room next to Shinosuke and left the door wide open. Her bag was half-unpacked, with clothes already spilling out in a little heap. A framed photo of the twins with Y/N rested on the low shelf. She had stuck a paper charm to the wall—one she said was “for luck.” Her room already had life in it.

In the kitchen, Y/N stirred the soup again, gently checking the heat while glancing out toward the hallway. She could hear the twins talking. Laughing. Arguing, maybe, but lightly. Playfully.

She hesitated for a second, then turned her head to where Sasuke leaned near the wall, arms crossed as he watched the fading sky through the window. Quiet. Always watching. Always thinking. “I was thinking,” she said carefully, “we should invite Sakura.” Sasuke didn’t move. “She helped us,” she continued, voice light. “A lot, actually. More than I ever expected her to. And Sarada too. I thought it might be good… to say thank you. Maybe they could join us for dinner tonight?” Sasuke turned to her slowly, his eyes unreadable but not cold. There was a long pause. “…Maybe,” he said. But the word didn’t feel like agreement. It felt like weight. Y/N watched him, drying her hands on a cloth. “You don’t want to.” He didn’t deny it. “I don’t mind them being here,” he said, finally. “They’re family.” “Then what is it?” Y/n wanted to reason. Sasuke’s eyes dropped to the pot between them. The steam rose in soft, slow spirals, curling toward the ceiling. He was conflicted, of course he wanted Sakura and Sarada to get along with the twins and Y/n, he wanted to ease the guilt he felt, but he also wanted this first dinner of their's to be just them. As a whole family. “I just…” He paused, the words sticking to his tongue like something too honest. “I wanted tonight to be… just us.” Y/N’s breath caught. She didn’t speak, not right away. She didn’t have to. “I’ve missed too much,” Sasuke said, voice quiet now, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile stillness between them. “I don’t know how many dinners like this we’ll get. Not before the world comes knocking again.” His eyes lifted. For once, they were clear—not guarded, not hard. Just full of something old and aching. “This is our first one,” he said. Y/N’s lips curved, just barely. Not mocking. Not teasing. Just something soft. Something knowing. “All right,” she said, stepping closer and brushing a bit of hair behind her ear. “Just us tonight.” Sasuke nodded once—grateful but still unsure how to show it. She turned toward the hallway, raising her voice slightly. “Shokyō! Shinosuke! Dinner in five!” Shokyō shouted something back—probably sarcastic—and Shinosuke responded with what sounded like a groan of resignation. Y/N looked back at Sasuke one last time. “We’ll invite them next time,” she said gently. And for once, Sasuke didn’t feel like that was a promise she wouldn’t keep. He stepped forward and picked up the bowls, setting them on the table where four places waited. For him. For her. For Shinosuke. For Shokyō.

The low table was set, and for once, it didn’t feel like a battleground. It felt like a home.

Shokyō sat cross-legged, already halfway through her second bowl of rice, chopsticks moving fast and wild as she piled pickled vegetables and tofu into her mouth between sentences. Shinosuke sat across from her, quiet as usual, but his brows twitched every time she opened her mouth—like he was preparing for war.

Y/N sat to the side, her head resting in one hand, watching her daughter with a fond, if slightly wary, smile. Sasuke sat at the end of the table, silent but alert, chopsticks in hand, his gaze sweeping from one twin to the other like he couldn’t quite believe they were real. “I’m just saying,” Shokyō said with a grin, “if someone hadn’t tried to ‘silently sneak up’ on a bear cub that one time, we wouldn’t have had to sleep in a tree that entire night.” Shinosuke groaned, head tipping back. “It wasn’t a bear cub, it was a very large raccoon. And you were the one who screamed.” “Because it hissed at me!” “You stepped on it.” Y/N nearly choked on her tea. Sasuke blinked. “You slept in a tree?” Shokyō nodded proudly. “Yep. Whole night. Curled around a branch like a cat. Shinosuke almost fell twice. I tied his belt to mine.” "You did not,” Shinosuke muttered. “I did. You were half-asleep and drooling.” Shokyo exclaimed. “I don’t drool.” “You do,” Shokyō insisted, grinning like a menace. “You make this little grunt sound too, when you’re really tired. It’s like—‘nnrgh’—like a tired old man.” Y/N laughed, biting down on her chopsticks. “She’s not wrong.” “Et tu, Mother?” That earned a snort from Sasuke—barely audible, but enough to make three heads turn toward him. He didn’t even try to hide it this time. The corners of his mouth curled, just slightly, like a shadow of a smirk. “He seems like Naruto when he sleeps,” Sasuke said, taking a sip of his tea. “Naruto used to snore through entire missions.” Shokyō gasped dramatically. “No way. That loud blond guy with the forehead protector and no indoor voice?” Shinosuke sighed into his soup. “Can we not compare me to the Hokage while I’m chewing?” “No promises,” Shokyō said sweetly, already loading her third helping.

The warmth in the room was subtle but full. The food wasn’t extravagant, but it was comforting—home-cooked rice, miso soup, pickles, and tofu lightly seared with soy. Steam rose from the bowls like incense, and the oil lamp flickered gently in the corner, casting long shadows that danced on the old walls. It wasn’t perfect. The plates were mismatched. The walls carried more memories than voices right now. But tonight, there was laughter. There was noise. There were stories, and elbow nudges, and twin squabbles. There were smiles passed across the table like secret messages, and every so often, a look in Sasuke’s eyes that said he was trying—really trying—not to memorize every second of this too quickly, like it might all disappear.

Chapter Three: A day out.

[killianilves]

thank you for the rare sasuke uchiha fic food! I love it and will be looking forward for more!! Love yoouu <333

I'm already working on the next few chapters. Thank you, sm!! And if ya'll actually have any ideas on this fic, just let me know!!<3

[killianilves]

the silly

[killianilves]

Summary: After you helped a stubborn uchiha, you had stayed by his side.Never stepping out of boundry. Never asking for more or less. A fury and lonesome night led one thing to another. You left after finding out you were pregnant. Now your twins had come to Konoha (Shinosuke and shokyo Uchiha) to find their father, after you fell ill. Both twins are age 13 making them two years older than Sarada, Sarada being 11 at that time.

Warning: Sort of angst.

A new legacy Unveiled

CHAPTER ONE

The past always catches up. Even for someone like Sasuke Uchiha. Years have passed since the Fourth Great Ninja War, and Sasuke, the shadow protector of the Leaf, thought he had left his past buried in the forests he wandered. With his daughter Sarada growing strong, and his bond with Sakura stabilized, peace seemed possible.

Until they arrived.

Two fierce strangers—a boy with smoldering crimson eyes, and a girl with the same deadly grace—entered Konoha, demanding to meet Sasuke Uchiha. When Sarada and Boruto tried to stop them, they were easily defeated. The boy’s name? Shinosuke Uchiha—a prodigy who had already awakened multiple stages of the Sharingan. The girl? Shokyō Uchiha, just as talented and every bit as intense. Their powers? A devastating combination of their father’s Sharingan legacy and their mother’s earth-style jutsu mastery.

But what left everyone breathless.. Was their revelation.

“We are Shinosuke and Shokyō… Uchiha. Children of Sasuke Uchiha..”

The boy spoke firmly, his presence commanding—he bore Sasuke’s sharp features, but with striking white hair that set him apart. Beside him stood the girl, a flawless reflection of Sasuke himself. From her jet-black hair to her expression and stance, she was undeniably his daughter. There was no mistaking who they were.

Years ago, while Sasuke journeyed in isolation, he found unlikely companionship in you, a strong kunoichi with unmatched elemental control—quiet, selfless, and brave. You never asked for more than what he gave. And when fate took a wild turn, you bore twins… without ever telling him. You disappeared without a word, fearing rejection… fearing he might choose duty over them.

Now, with your illness worsening, your children—two storms cloaked in black will—have returned to confront the man who unknowingly left a family behind.

Sakura’s breath caught.

The words echoed in her mind—children of Sasuke Uchiha. She looked at Shokyō, her heart sinking. The stance, the eyes, the aura—it was him. And then Shinosuke… so familiar, yet distant, like a memory warped by time. Her chest tightened. Had Sasuke hidden this? Or had she been left in the dark too? Her voice trembled. “Sasuke… is it true?” Betrayal and hurt crept up through her veins.

Sarada stood frozen.

Still burning from the fight, now hit with something deeper. They’d beaten her. And now, they claimed to be her siblings? “You’re lying,” she whispered, but the doubt crept in. Shokyō was her father’s reflection. Sarada’s fists shook. She had always thought she was the only Uchiha heir. But now? There were two more. She wasn't even the first.

Sasuke was silent

He stared, Sharingan flickering—not in threat, but in knowing. The truth was right in front of him. Their chakra, their eyes, his. Memories surged. The woman who had never asked for anything. Who vanished. Who left behind something he hadn’t known he needed. He swallowed hard, voice rough.

“…Why didn’t she tell me?”

The Return

After days of silent, tense travel, they finally returned to Konoha. Sasuke walked at the center, a woman cradled gently in his arms—pale, fragile, and wrapped in his cloak to guard her from the cold. Her long (h/c) hair spilled over his shoulder like silk, but her body was sickly thin, weakened from months of illness. Despite her condition, there was a quiet strength in her presence. One that made it impossible to look away.

Shinosuke and Shokyō flanked their mother like loyal wolves, eyes sharp, chakra coiled—ready to strike at the first hint of threat. Even in their homeland, they didn’t let their guard down. Not for a second. Sasuke didn’t hesitate. He took her straight to the hospital. To Sakura.

Her heart twisted when she saw them enter. Not just from the sight of the woman in Sasuke’s arms—but from the way he held her. Gentle. Protective. Familiar. Sakura masked it with a healer’s calm, but inside, a sharp pang of jealousy bloomed. He had never looked at her that way. Not with that quiet desperation. Not like this.

And though she said nothing, it was clear—this woman wasn’t just a stranger from his past. She was once his, in ways Sakura never got to be.

Sarada watched too, standing to the side, unseen. Her gaze flicked from the woman to her father, then to her new siblings.

She felt… misplaced. Ever since the twins arrived, Sasuke had been distant. Not cruel—but distracted. Focused entirely on the woman he once cared for and the children he never knew he had. Every moment he spent helping them—every word, every glance—felt like another inch of space forming between him and her. Sarada wanted to believe it would pass. That her father would come back to her. But deep down, a quiet fear grew: What if she was no longer the one he was trying to protect?

Bonding time

After he left Y/n to Sakura’s care he spent time with the twins and Sarada. He took them to train as "bonding time" but really he just wanted to see the true strength of his twin children.

The sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the training field. The air was heavy—not just with summer heat, but with unspoken tension. The kind that clung to your skin like sweat. Sasuke stood at the center, arms crossed, his lone eye calmly watching the three Uchiha before him. Sarada was already panting, sweat dripping down her brow as she knelt in the dirt. Her Sharingan flickered with strain. Across from her, Shinosuke stood tall, barely winded. His white hair stirred with the breeze, his red eyes glowing like coals.

“You’re too slow,” Shinosuke said flatly, brushing dust off his sleeve. “Your reactions are predictable. That was over in five moves.”

Sarada gritted her teeth, her pride smarting more than her bruises. “Tch. Let’s go again.”

Before she could charge, Shokyō gently stepped between them, raising a hand.

"Give it a minute, Sarada. You're overusing your chakra,” she said, her voice calm but kind. “Your form’s good. But you’re wasting motion—watch your left side, you drop your guard there.”

Sarada blinked, caught off guard by the softness. “I didn’t ask for advice.”

Shokyō gave a small, almost sisterly smile. “Didn’t have to.”

Sasuke watched silently. But something flickered in his eyes—a quiet pride as

Shokyō analyzed her movements with the same sharp intuition he once used. Then his gaze shifted to Shinosuke, who was already forming hand signs.

“Earth Style: Crushing Stone Spear.”

The ground trembled, and jagged spears of earth shot up in perfect formation, pinning a training dummy to the boulder behind it with brutal accuracy.

Sarada’s eyes widened. That level of control… It wasn’t just Uchiha talent—it was something else. Something more.

“Didn’t know the daughter of a Kage would be this easy to beat,” Shinosuke muttered with a smirk.

That one stung. Deep.

Sarada rose to her feet again, Sharingan flaring. “Fight me then, properly.”

But Sasuke stepped forward at last, raising a hand.“That’s enough.”

His voice was calm, but final.

Shinosuke narrowed his eyes, but obeyed. Shokyō gave her brother a pointed look, silently urging him to chill. Sasuke’s gaze lingered on Sarada. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“Because I have to,” she snapped. “You’re training them. You’re proud of them. And I’m just... here.”

Sasuke didn’t flinch. But for a second, there was something softer in his face. “You’re strong, Sarada. But strength isn’t just power. It’s knowing when to learn.”

She looked away, eyes burning—not just from exhaustion, but from something deeper. A growing, aching fear that she was no longer his legacy.

In the background, Shinosuke turned away, clearly unimpressed. But Shokyō lingered near Sarada, offering a canteen and a quiet nod of respect.

A place to stay

A day had passed after the training. Y/n finally gaine consciousnesses, Sasuke stood with his back to them all, staring out over the village rooftops. The weight of the past pressed heavy on his shoulders. So many things left unsaid. So many mistakes, scattered like ashes, yet silence filled the room, a silence that n one dared to break. Finally, Y/n spoke up. "We'll leave in a week after I have fully healed."

She stated. She didn't want to intrude into Sasuke’s life. She didn't want to feel like she's taking something away from both Sakura and Sarada.

Sasuke's eyes widened in surprise. "Move away?"

Sasuke's heart twisted. The thought of them leaving, especially the woman, made a cold knot form in his stomach. He had missed so much already. The idea of them departing now felt like the final blow. Sasuke's voice was almost a whisper. "But why?"

Y/n lowered her head. If she were to be honest, she didn't want to feel guilty of trying to squeeze her and her children in the life of Sasuke, specially when Sakura and Sarada had stood their place in his heart. Nonetheless, she spoke with softness and shame, "We have no place here in Konoha." Which was half the truthe of her reason. Sasuke's jaw tightened, the idea of them being cast aside, stirring something sharp within him. "No place?" Sasuke repeated, disbelief lacing the word. "You have nowhere else to go?" Sasuke's mind raced, images fluttering behind his eyes like a silent film. The thought of them leaving... it was unbearable. The woman who had once been his partner ik journey was now a stranger, yet the memories of their shared past clung to him like a shadow. Sasuke's voice shook with the weight of their history. "You can't just leave."

Sasuke's mind rilled trying to find a way to change her mind. Then he turned slowly, eyes landing on the twins first. Then at her “The Uchiha compound,” he said, voice quiet but resolute. “It’s empty. Isolated. You’ll be safer there.” Shinosuke blinked. “You mean… live there?” Sasuke gave a slow nod. “You. Shokyō. Your mother.”

He paused. “It’s your home.”

Shokyō’s lips parted in surprise. For a second, her guarded expression softened.

But a few feet away, Sakura froze.

Her fingers curled at her sides. The compound? That place was sacred. Sealed in silence and memory. Sasuke had never let her in—not truly. Even after years of marriage, he’d always said it wasn’t the right place. Too painful. Too haunted.

And now, he was offering it to them.

Sakura looked at him, voice low, wounded.

“You never let Sarada and I step foot in that place. Why now?” Sasuke didn’t flinch. “Because they need somewhere to belong.”

Her heart cracked at the simplicity of it.

The old Uchiha compound stood in solemn silence. Time hadn’t touched it much—weather-worn walls, abandoned training grounds, and cherry trees that had long since stopped blooming. It was quiet… too quiet. As if the place had been holding its breath all these years, waiting for someone to come back.

A home to build.

Today, the gates creaked open. Sasuke led the way, his figure calm, steady—but something in the way his eyes lingered on every stone path, every cracked tile, betrayed a flood of memories. Some painful. Some buried. All unfinished.

Y/n walked beside him, looking better than before. Her long (h/c) hair fell loose over the cloak Sasuke had placed on her shoulders. Her steps were hesitant. Every inch of the compound was unfamiliar and yet felt like a place she'd dreamed of too many times. A place she was never sure she was allowed to exist in. Behind her, Shinosuke and Shokyō followed with practiced silence. Shinosuke’s eyes scanned every corner with sharp calculation—measuring, memorizing. Shokyō walked more slowly, her gaze soft, taking in the history she was only now being allowed to inherit. Sasuke stopped in front of the main house. The doors creaked open. “It’s not much,” he said quietly, “but it’s yours. All of it.” Y/n paused on the threshold, her fingers brushing the frame. She looked at Sasuke, her voice nearly a whisper. “You really kept it... all this time.” He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Just across the compound—far enough to pretend she wasn’t watching—Sakura stood in the shade of the trees, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She had helped carry the medical supplies into the house, had spoken to Y/n only briefly. Polite. Distant. But her heart felt like it was being twisted, slow and deliberate.

This was a house Sasuke never let her near. And now… he was welcoming another woman inside. Sarada, beside her, didn’t speak either. She watched as her father moved inside with the twins and Y/n—his presence oddly lighter. Almost... present. A man trying. She had never seen him like that. “Looks like he’s finally found a reason to stay,” she muttered under her breath, her voice caught somewhere between anger and heartbreak. Sakura reached for her hand gently. “You’re still his daughter.”

Sarada nodded. But she didn’t feel like it.

Chapter Two: One Whole Family.

[killianilves]

Looking at the tags, it's mostly shippers that seem to be keeping AoT stuff active and... I realised each and every one of the most popular ships have the other half dead.

Jean/Marco was an early one, but Eren/Mikasa, Eren/Armin, Levi/Erwin, Levi/Hange, Ymir/Historia, Reiner/Bertholt and even fucking Eren/Levi are all ships with dead characters.

I think the only ships that canonically can exist are Gabi/Falco, Mikasa/Annie, Annie/Armin, Mikasa/Jean and a few less popular ones.

It's sad, but also somehow really funny.

What gave me a laugh was Levi/Reader being so high on the list on AO3 because that's the only one among the top ones that can happen.

This series is a complete ship slaughter.

[killianilves]

Pookie acting like a ✨ dad✨

[killianilves]

Cutie

made him do the cat shadow trend :)

[killianilves]

Kakashi Hatake 🪷🍃

[killianilves]

levi remembers his kid a bit differently🤷