The corridor stretched deep ahead. As Sasuke approached, the candles on both sides automatically shrank, their flames shifting from orange-yellow to dark blue, as if something were pressing them down so they could not lift their heads. He did not move. He merely stood at the other end in an open white kimono, his left hand hanging beside the hilt of the Kusanagi Sword. Three tomoe turned slowly within his scarlet eyes, like three iron beads floating on water.
"Come in, and you won't be leaving."
The instant Naruto charged forward, Yamato did not have time to stop him. It was not that his reaction was slow—Naruto was no longer who he had been two years ago. With one step, he shattered the stone slabs beneath his feet. Before the rubble even hit the ground, he was already in front of Sasuke. His fist, wrapped in crushing wind pressure, drove straight at Sasuke's face, the force of it nearly snuffing out the candles on both sides. Sasuke slipped one hand into his sash and drew his sword without haste—not like he was preparing to fight, but like he was taking stationery from a drawer. Yet when the blade came to rest against Naruto's throat, Naruto's fist was still hanging in midair, his elbow still held at the angle of exertion, half a palm short of Sasuke's face. He had not stopped his momentum. Sasuke had simply been faster.
The wind pressure blew Naruto's forehead protector crooked. Sasuke looked at it, the Kusanagi Sword held steadily one millimeter before Naruto's Adam's apple. His mouth barely moved, but the corners of his eyes lowered slightly.
"Naruto. You haven't changed." The blade pressed forward less than a millimeter, and a thin line of blood seeped from Naruto's throat. "Still so loud."
Naruto's pupils