The hospital corridors were too bright. Each polished tile reflected the pale morning light like a mirror, almost sterile in its harshness.
Soji moved quietly through them, his steps careful, each echo sounding far too loud in the hushed emptiness.
At the end of the hall, he found the door — slightly ajar, the air beyond it heavy and motionless.
He paused for a moment, fingers resting on the edge of the frame.
We were never meant to be soldiers, you and I. We were just boys... and yet here we are.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
---
Sasuke sat on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest, eyes staring into a void no one else could see. The bandages around his arms and legs looked stark against his pale skin, and his hair, usually neat and carefully kept, hung limply over his face.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Soji stepped closer, settling himself in the chair beside the bed. The quiet stretched thin as a blade between them.
"Hey," Soji finally said, his voice soft, almost tentative. "I... thought you might want company."
Sasuke didn't look at him. His fingers dug deeper into his knees, shoulders tensing.
Soji's eyes lowered. "Do you remember the time we tried to catch fireflies in the garden? You kept jumping too soon, and they kept slipping through your hands."
A slight twitch in Sasuke's jaw.
"You were so angry," Soji continued, a small, sad smile flickering across his lips. "You said they were mocking you. Mother had to bribe you with dango to stop you from stomping around and scaring them away."
Sasuke's breath shivered, but his eyes stayed fixed on that distant, invisible point.
Soji hesitated, then reached out, his fingers stopping inches from Sasuke's arm before curling back.
"I know you're hurting," Soji said quietly. "I know the pain feels like it will swallow you whole. And I know... I know you think that hate will give you strength."
At that, Sasuke's head snapped up. His eyes burned, wild and wounded.
"You don't understand!" he hissed, voice cracking. "You just stood there! You let it happen! You're weak!"
Soji flinched, the words cutting deeper than any kunai. He swallowed, his lips trembling.
"I am weak," he admitted. "I am not strong enough to carry your rage... or your grief. I can't change your path for you, Sasuke. But I will always be here. I will never turn away from you."
Sasuke's shoulders shook. He pressed his forehead into his knees, hiding his face as his breaths came in ragged, uneven bursts.
Soji sat there, hands resting lightly on the edge of the bed. He didn't reach out again.
After a long, shivering silence, he rose.
He stood there for a moment, watching the trembling shape of his brother — no longer the laughing boy chasing fireflies, but a blade being sharpened by grief and hate.
"I love you, Sasuke," Soji said softly. "I always will."
Sasuke didn't respond.
Soji stepped away, moving to the door. He paused once, glancing back, his eyes shadowed with sorrow that felt too old for his young face.
I cannot save you... not now. But maybe, someday, I can build a world where no one else has to become what you are becoming.
He turned and slipped out into the silent hallway.
Outside, the sun rose over Konoha, washing the rooftops in pale gold. But in that hospital room, the dawn had not yet come.