#The Sage knows there's no mountain heavier than the heart of an Uchiha

[team7-headquarter]

Feeling sentimental over Sasuke tonight.

I can't stand when I see him portrayed as just a dramatic little boy, because fuck , his grief and his anger and all his sorrow and bitterness came from a love so soo big it made the world dark, his heart exploded over the sky and tainted it gloomy red.

What was love and friendship to him in a world boiling with corruption, with greed? And what's a flower in a battlefield? Can it bloom? What is the song of a lover over the roar of an earthquake? Would you let a bird go if you know it'd kill it or would you keep it caged? Or would you go out and kill whatever is waiting for the little bird?

Sasuke got so lost wondering how could he live a fiction, 'cause dreams alone can't save the world. Who would descend to hell and purge the devils in there? What's Orochimaru alive if not for that job? What was Danzo there for? What was Itachi there for? Why is that people only worship what shines? Why is that the kages can decide to start a war for nothing but greed? Why is that the heroes' sins are never counted? Why is that some of the last survivors of the clans that founded Konoha were roaming the world searching for justice in themselves, not in the place that was supposed to be their home?

Obito. Itachi. Sasuke. Tsunade. Naruto. Karin.

Uchihas. Senjus. Uzumakis. Outcasts of Konoha.

But then when Sasuke talks, they only listen to the "hatred" and not the truth behind?

That "hatred" came from a wound no one had the right to expect to know. It came from devotion, from the love of a little brother, the same way it came from Itachi. It came without a warning at such young age; their bones ached all at once and aged years in a minute. It teared holes in their eyes, black signs, dark omens, patterns of stars and silent mathematical equations to alter the world around them, to alter their fate.

And isn't it the tragedy of the Uchihas? To be able to slow down the world and copy what they see, to be able to travel to other dimensions and to be able to web nightmares and dreams. But even if they can make you live your entire life in a illusion or could help the dead came back from life, they can't erase what was, they can't make the pain go away, they can't forget. What's s dead was dead, what's done was done.

“ I can fix it. I can save them. I can fix the world. ”

But once it's over and they have tried (and failed in some degree), who is going to fix their empty chests? For all they poured and all they gave and all the flesh they use to carry the burden of the world, where can they rest without the constant reminder of what they've lost?