Disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me.

Warning: Character death.

It was pouring.

He supposed that it was befitting. Heaven crying for those who could not – would not – cry. They were shinobi, they had been taught since day one that crying, or showing any other sign of emotion, was a weakness that enemies would not hesitate to use against you.

He stared at the memorial stone blankly. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of tiny carved names on the drenched slab of stone, but only one – the newest addition – stood out in his eyes.

Uzumaki Naruto.

"Sasuke-kun…"

He lifted his dull gaze. Haruno Sakura peered at him, her green eyes drawn and dimmed with exhaustion. His pink haired, medic nin teammate looked like she wanted to say something, but was restraining herself.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity before Sakura forced a smile. "We should be going, Sasuke-kun," she whispered. "Anbu duties."

He nodded. Her message was clear: Shinobi die everyday. Life has to go on. You can't stand here forever.

But he had known Sakura for a long time, and he could see that she was having an equally hard, if not harder, time than he was dealing with this. He did not say anything, but followed her away from the memorial.

- - -

He tossed and turned in his bed. Sleep was exceptionally hard to come by for the past few days. Every time he closed his eyes, images of a boy with golden hair, sky blue eyes and the most mischievous of grins would fill his mind.

He sat up in bed in frustration and stared out the window at the blood red moon that hung in the sultry night sky.

"Naruto…"

The name slipped past his lips and he never even realized that he had said it. He closed his eyes tight and rested his throbbing temples against the cool glass of the window.

Sleep was hard to come by that night…

- - -

"Sasuke-kun, you look awful," Sakura said when she next saw him, sounding infinitely tired.

'Speak for yourself,' he wanted to retort, eyeing the dark circles under her eyes and her pale face. He wondered who looked worse between the two of them.

He shrugged his shoulders numbly instead.

Numb. That was how he felt. Numb to everything that was happening and anything that was going to happen in the future. He just couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

"I'm fine," he replied shortly, and Sakura looked dubious.

"Take care of yourself, Sasuke-kun," Sakura almost pleaded. "Naruto would've –"

She stopped short, eyes widening. They both tensed at the name.

Then he turned to go. There was nothing to say anyway. Sakura did not stop him; she understood.

- - -

"I was planning on giving him the title next year…"

He did not say anything. Tsunade sighed. She stroked the necklace she had given to Naruto years ago absently. The people in charge had not dared to bury it along with Naruto's body – the necklace was far too valuable.

"Maybe this necklace really is cursed," she murmured, more to herself than to the Anbu captain standing rigidly before her. "Maybe it's my fault he…"

She shook her head, as if to clear it, and reached for a box sitting in one corner of her desk. She pushed it towards him.

"Naruto's Anbu uniform."

He stared at the cracked porcelain mask sitting on top of the clothes almost dispassionately. There were still traces of blood on it.

Naruto's blood.

"Take it," Tsunade was saying. "He did not leave much. His apartment is sold. The rest of his things have been distributed among his friends. And since you were his best friend, I thought you might have wanted his most prized possession."

"That necklace was his most prized possession." His voice was quiet, lacking its usual sharp, impatient edge.

Tsunade gave a strange twisted smile, half grimace.

"Yes. But this I'm keeping."

He bowed and left with the box, and before he closed the door, he saw Tsunade's face buried in her hands, the necklace dangling from her fingers.

- - -

He had to see for himself.

He had not visited Naruto's apartment since the boy had died. Maybe in his mind, he was still hoping that it was all just a nightmare that would fade away when he woke up with the sunlight streaming through his windows. He had avoided the apartment like a plague – afraid of what he would see, afraid of what he would find, afraid of what he would learn.

The truth had always been a terrible thing.

But now he found himself standing in front of the door. He pushed it open. It wasn't locked; there was nothing to steal from there. The place had been emptied out. He was surprised to find that his fingers were trembling badly when he reached for the doorknob to shut the door behind him.

His gaze swept across the bare room.

Nothing.

Nothing to remind him of the vibrant, noisy boy who once live here.

He felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. And then suddenly, all the hurt and anger and agony in him that he had been holding back since Naruto's death seemed to pry their way to the surface of his icy exterior.

He felt his knees give way to his weight, and he slipped to the floor. His vision blurred. He crouched on all fours, feeling the hot tears scald his cheeks and dotting the floor as his shoulders heaved convulsively.

Maybe shinobi weren't allowed to cry. Maybe shinobi weren't allowed to mourn for the death of someone they loved. Maybe it was a weakness. But he was weak tonight, and he didn't care.

Tonight, he was not Konoha's best shinobi. He was simply Uchiha Sasuke, crying for the best friend and lover that he had lost.

Author's Notes:
Taking a short break from Just An Ordinary Day. I hope you liked this! XD