TRAGIC! Aromantic coded character has close friendship with another character of the same gender and now you're gonna get called homophobic for not wanting to interpret them as a couple
Just realised I haven’t posted this after rushing it to this stage for Sasuke’s birthday before. Well it’s still unfinished though but I like how it turned out so far. Hope I’ll have time to finish it soon 🫠
[Analysis] Why Sasuke’s tragic backstory doesn’t resonate with many readers
Word count: ~1,800+
Back then on my analysis on why Sasuke’s character is extremely anti-self-insert, I wrote, [The magnitude of Sasuke’s trauma—losing his entire family, community, and sense of security in one single night by the hand of the person he loved and admired the most—is incomprehensible to most readers, whose lived experiences rarely approach such extreme loss. The human mind struggles to empathise with trauma that exceeds everyday understanding.] Today’s analysis is to dwell deeper into the whys: Why is he so misunderstood? Why can’t most people emphathise with his pain? Why was his trauma often dismissed as “just another sob story, many others had it bad and still remained on the good side (of the narrative) unlike him”?
Firstly, I want to state that I have no intention to play the trauma Olympic here, though it is important to acknowledge that there are different kinds of mental anguish, and some are easier to understand than others. People tend to resonate with grounded, familiar pain, things rooted in experiences that mirror their own in some form.
That’s why both Naruto’s and Sakura’s struggles at the beginning of the story were so relatable to most readers. Naruto’s lonely childhood hit a more accessible (and dare I say, quite universal) emotional register: neglect, bullying, a desire for recognition—all the things many of us have experienced more or less in various degrees. Similarly, Sakura’s insecurities about her appearance, her fragile self-esteem, and her need for external validation reflected common struggles in adolescence, especially when one has yet to develop a strong sense of self. Their hardships weren’t trivial, but they were very legible, easily understood without straining empathy.
Meanwhile, Sasuke’s trauma, in contrast, was mythic in scale. He wasn’t simply a sad “emo” boy, he was the lone survivor of a massacre. He watched as his clan was annihilated by the very person he trusted most at the tender age of seven. That same person also deliberately chose to spare him after making him relive the horrifying events for gods know how long in a horrid mental stimulation, destroying his self-worth, belittling him for being ‘too weak, worthless to kill’. Sasuke’s suffering was not just bereavement, it was the existential torment of betrayal, genocide, and the shattering of his entire worldview in one night. This was not the relatable pain of losing a dear person or enduring bullying, it was devastation so extreme that it resisted comprehension.
And here, psychology gives us an explanation why when suffering exceeds what people can personally imagine or contextualise, their ability to empathise falters—it’s actually a very real phenomenon called “psychic numbing”.
The term was first coined by psychiatrist Robert Jay Lifton when he observed the survivors of the Hiroshima bombing. He used it to describe the psychological phenomenon where individuals or groups become desensitised to large-scale suffering or potential threats, particularly in the context of catastrophic events like war or genocide. Further psychological research, such as Paul Slovic & Daniel Västfjäll’s work: “The More Who Die, the Less We Care: Psychic Numbing and Genocide”, suggests that empathy diminishes as the scale of suffering increases beyond relatable bounds. Human compassion evolved to respond to the one, the few, the familiar—not to the catastrophic, the abstract, or the incomprehensible.
Sasuke’s loss of an entire clan in one single night, compounded with the betrayal by his beloved brother, was so catastrophic that it felt abstract to many readers. His trauma was a singular, cataclysmic event that lacks a clear real-world parallel for most, therefore the vastness of it created a cognitive barrier, making it difficult for people to internalise or emotionally connect with his pain, rendering his backstory more theoretical than visceral.
And then, to make matters worse, Sasuke also didn’t fit into the “good victim” trope.
We’re socially conditioned to empathise with victims who suffer in silence: those who endure their pain quietly and never “become like their abuser”; those who seek redemption through positive traits like forgiveness or resilience instead of lashing out; or those who remain incredibly positive in their unwavering heroic way. This archetype is comfortable, palatable, easy to digest, and welcomed to sympathise with.
But Sasuke’s trauma was loud and confrontational. He externalised his pain through anger, rebellion, and defiance; he became vengeful and dangerous. He rejected surface-level pity when it was offered and refused to perform the role of the broken hero who “learns to love again.” He spiralled further into “darkness”, letting pain drive his actions even if it consumed his sanity. He dared to lash out at the very village that let the genocide of his clan happen, he dared to want revenge on the very system that enabled his trauma and then had the audacity to sweep it all under the rug. He chose to be an avenger, to be the only one who genuinely cared about the fate and reputation of a lost clan, to bear all the pain on his shoulders alone no matter what it cost to walk on that path.
Sasuke’s reactions were actually psychologically plausible: trauma survivors, especially those of genocide, might exhibit intense anger and distrust, as seen in real-world studies of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and survivor’s guilt. Sasuke’s refusal to “move on” or forgive made his pain palpable but discomforting, as it forced readers to confront the messy, unpalatable reality of trauma rather than a sanitised, easy-to-digest redemption arc.
Moreover, Sasuke’s reactivity challenged the readers’ moral framework. His willingness to harm allies at times (such as attacking Naruto or stabbing Karin) and align with villains like Orochimaru and Obito made him appear unsympathetic or even villainous. Readers struggled to reconcile his trauma with his morally ambiguous actions, especially when contrasted with Naruto’s unwavering optimism. This discomfort was heightened by cultural biases favouring stoicism or heroism in trauma survivors, making Sasuke’s loud, vengeful response feel alienating or excessive.
In conclusion, for many, Sasuke’s reactions and the extremes he’s willing to go for are too uncomfortable. We prefer the narrative of healing. We prefer victims who “overcome” their pain and move on. Sasuke instead demanded justice, even if it became messy and cruel, even if it meant destroying himself on the way to attain it. And that unsettles people a great deal to the point that it’s easier to dismiss than to confront his pain for a lot of us since, again, it’s less emotionally taxing that way.
And thirdly, we have the conflict that was deliberately portrayed by the narrative.
From the outset, Sasuke was cast as Naruto’s foil: the “darkness” to Naruto’s “light.” This wasn’t merely an aesthetic opposition but a narrative mechanism. The series often positioned Sasuke’s trauma-driven decisions as antagonistic to Naruto’s trajectory. His grief and rage, however justified, were written to interrupt the protagonist’s dream of acknowledgement and his journey to eventual Hokage-hood.
And so, as many readers are conditioned to prioritise the protagonist’s journey, Sasuke’s “descending to the darkness” was framed as an obstacle rather than a reality to be understood. His legitimate suffering was flattened into a narrative function: the rival who must be overcome, pitied from a distance, or “saved” on the protagonist’s terms. This leads to selective sympathy: readers resonate with tragic characters who don’t get in the way of the protagonist.
Kakashi had a mournful past too, but he never opposed Naruto in any way and was deeply loyal to the Leaf village, where Naruto’s dream of becoming a Hokage lied in—therefore he’s a great character, a perfect teacher, and a wonderful shinobi! Gaara had a tragic childhood and he had admittedly done a lot of horrible things, but after a fight and an honest conversation with Naruto, he was “brought back to the light” and fully became Naruto’s supporter, so the fandom adores him because he’s completely redeemed!
Sasuke’s trauma was inherently different in its core—his entire clan was annihilated overnight by his own brother, orchestrated by the very system Naruto swore his loyalty to and wanted to become its leader. Unlike Kakashi or Gaara, Sasuke’s pain (for most of the journey) did not resolve neatly into loyalty or support of the protagonist. Instead, it remained jagged, disruptive, and politically inconvenient. His quest for truth and justice directly opposed Naruto’s dream of becoming Hokage of the very village complicit in his clan’s slaughter.
Thus, when Sasuke’s actions complicated the main narrative or endangered beloved characters, people vilified him, just as how the narrative told us to. Sympathy was revoked because his trauma resisted narrative domestication. He refused to be “healed” in the way Gaara was, or to sublimate his grief into quiet loyalty like Kakashi.
And one more thing that really unnerves people is that Sasuke refused to be grateful toward the fandom’s favourite characters or Konoha. He didn’t show appreciation for the Leaf, his old teammates, or even when they offered him his “second chances”. And why should he? From his point of view, those things came too late, or from people who never truly grasped what he lost. Sasuke didn’t owe them gratitude just because they finally noticed his pain. But readers, especially those identifying with Naruto or Konoha, often expect it. And when it didn’t come, they labelled him selfish, dramatic, undeserving, or even irredeemable.
In truth, Sasuke’s character forces us to confront a version of trauma that doesn’t resolve cleanly, a kind that doesn’t lead to healing through love or friendship (at least not until he’s ready). He challenges the narrative that you have to behave a certain way to be worthy of sympathy. And for many, that’s not just frustrating—it’s threatening. Because if someone like Sasuke, with all his pain, intelligence, and humanity, still chose anger and alienation, then it complicates our entire understanding of how “good victims” are supposed to act.
He was, in many ways, the embodiment of trauma that bites back. And people don’t like being bitten.
[End of the analysis part]
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[Objective hat off, personal rant hat on] I know some of you might think. I can already hear the counterpoint: But Sasuke finally realised how wrong he was! He accepted Naruto’s “unconditional love,” they had their (metaphorically) hand-holding session in the Valley of the End, and everything was neatly resolved. See? The darkness was cured after all!
Yeah, sure. Because in this story, it’s never about justice for genocide victims, it’s about preserving the Leaf’s moral high ground at all costs. Who cares about justice when the main character finally achieves his totalitarian dream? Who cares about the erasure and rewriting of atrocities as long as Konoha gets to pat itself on the back and pretend the system works? Who cares about individual grief, rage, and survival when the Collective Machine needs its gears oiled with silence and submission?
After all, nothing says peace more than making the last survivor of a genocide to smile and assimilate right back into the system that orchestrated it, right?
[Analysis] Sasuke’s character is extremely anti-self-insert (and how it made a ‘bad’ first impression).
From the very moment Sasuke was introduced in Naruto, it was clear he was never meant to be a character the average reader could easily project themselves onto. He was academically brilliant (top of the class), physically attractive (frequently complimented on his looks), and was a member (the last heir we knew of at that moment) of an elite clan (in real-world terms, this equated to having an impressive family background with high social status). On top of that, he was effortlessly “cool”: aloof, indifferent, and seemingly unaware (or uninterested) in how talented or admired he was.
Sasuke embodied the dreaded “golden child” archetype; the kind of person many people, if they were honest, had never been and would likely never become. But everyone had known someone like that: the kid everyone praised, the one who seemed to glide through life so effortlessly as if they never ever had a single struggle.
At this early stage in the story, the readers knew nothing about Sasuke’s personality or his traumatic past. He was seen entirely through Naruto’s perspective, a character who was already established as a 12-year-old orphan who craved love and recognition. Naruto acted out because he was neglected, isolated, and laughed at, thus his dream of becoming Hokage was rooted not in ambition for power or leadership, but in a simple, childlike yearning to be acknowledged and loved by others.
And in Naruto’s eyes, Sasuke seemed to have everything he wanted, especially the things he craved most: attention and admiration. But Sasuke didn’t seem to care. He lived in a world of his own, ignoring the girls who adored him and the boys who either respected, envied, or resented him. His cold, distant attitude only made him feel more unreachable to Naruto, and to readers who were seeing through Naruto’s perspective.
So Naruto’s emotional response to Sasuke was easy to understand: Annoyed? Of course! Who did this guy think he was, acting like he’s better than everyone else? Disliked? Naturally. if I looked like him, I’d at least appreciate it! Jealous? Definitely. How dared he have the audacity to treat the things I wanted most like they meant nothing like that?
Sasuke’s detachment and his refusal to engage in the social dynamics around him only reinforced the image of him as an impossibly perfect, frustratingly unrelatable figure. For many readers, especially young ones, that made him instantly unlikable. He became a mirror for what they lacked and feared: that they would never be as exceptional, as seen, or as desired as he was.
Kishimoto clearly established a contrast between Naruto and Sasuke, and from the very start, this divide split readers emotionally. Naruto was easy to understand: his loneliness, insecurity, and desire to be noticed were all deeply common human emotions that almost everyone had experienced in some form. He was the classic underdog, and aren’t we all rooting for the underdog? (1) From a character design perspective, Naruto was made to be likable, sympathetic, and easy to self-insert into. Many readers unconsciously merged their own emotions with Naruto’s to the point that his pain became theirs, his growth mirrored their own. It wasn’t just a story about Naruto, it became a story where they lived through Naruto.
(There was more to say here about how the other child member of Team 7 was also designed in a way that allowed for a certain kind of self-insertion or projection, but that was another rabbit hole for another time.)
Sasuke, by contrast, was the exact opposite. Most readers, especially those in the shounen demographic, couldn’t see themselves in him. He wasn’t written to feel accessible or relatable. And for a child or teenager, someone who’s still unsure of their identity, still dreaming of being “special”—seeing someone who was that special and yet didn’t even care about it provoked discomfort, resentment, or even hostility.
After all, most of us at that age (or even now) still wanted to believe that we were the protagonist, and Sasuke’s existence threatened that illusion. He wasn’t someone readers instinctively rooted for, instead he was someone they reacted to, often negatively.
To make matters worse, Sasuke rarely made any effort to explain himself or his emotions. He remained withdrawn, cryptic, and emotionally distant. Even when others showed him hostility or admiration, he responded with the same indifference. That self-contained nature, the sense that he lived on a different emotional wavelength, frustrated readers who already disliked him.
“He thinks he’s better than everyone else.”
“He’s so arrogant.”
“Why does he even stay on the team if he doesn’t care?”
These were common assumptions, and sadly they stuck. First impressions mattered, especially when they were reinforced through the emotional lens of a sympathetic narrator like Naruto.
Later on, as Sasuke’s tragic past was revealed, many readers struggled to offer the empathy the story seemed to ask for. Not because his story wasn’t heartbreaking, but because by that point, the emotional wall between reader and character had already been built. And it didn’t help when Sasuke’s trauma wasn’t just difficult to relate to, in fact, it actually was too overwhelming, too distant, too unimaginable and unfathomable.
The magnitude of Sasuke’s trauma—losing his entire family, community, and sense of security in one single night by the hand of the person he loved and admired the most—is incomprehensible to most readers, whose lived experiences rarely approach such extreme loss. The human mind struggles to empathise with trauma that exceeds everyday understanding (2). Sasuke’s not just a sad emo boy, he’s a child who was forced to witness a massacre repeatedly, who was spared by the murderer for being ‘too weak, unworthy to kill’, and was left to live in confusion, rage, and grief. That kind of existential torment is not only hard to understand, it’s hard to even want to understand to begin with. But well, I guess I should stop here before dwelling too deep into why Sasuke’s tragic backstory doesn’t resonate with many readers, which’s a topic for another time…
Sasuke’s inability to resonate with many readers wasn’t a flaw in the writing, it was a deliberate narrative choice. He wasn’t meant to be relatable, he wasn’t there to validate the reader’s emotions or provide comfort. Sasuke was the genius, the golden child, the survivor of something too catastrophically traumatic to wrap your head around.
He didn’t offer his pain for easy consumption. And that made him, paradoxically, one of the most honest portrayals of trauma in the story.
But for readers who wanted someone to project themselves onto, Sasuke was a door that never opened. And it’s easier for many to just shut their eyes and jump on the hate bandwagon instead of taking time to actually think and recoil at how dark and sorrowful his life was, because it’s less emotionally taxing that way.
…
(1) See more with “the underdog effect”: why we tend to support those who are perceived as disadvantaged.
(2) See “psychic numbing”, Paul Slovic and Daniel Västfjäll: “The More Who Die, the Less We Care - Psychic Numbing and Genocide.”
i have to get this out of the way, re: dungeon meshi discussions
major spoilers ahead, obviously.
you know for a series that focuses so much on platonic and familial relationships it’s weird that dungeon meshi has attracted so much useless ship wars though. the most important driving force in the story is two sibling relationships (laios’s search for falin, thistle’s search for delgal) and one of the central themes is how loving others way too much can lead to your downfall (thistle’s desperate attempt to keep his loved ones leads to his mental state deteriorating so much he starts torturing people he claims to protect, marcille’s fear of losing her friends leads to her being easily manipulated by the main antagonist)
even with regards to falin. thistle wants to bring the ‘brother’ he raised back at all costs, he saw a young human woman as nothing more than a dragon, his tool. marcille wants to bring falin back at all costs, she didn’t care about the repercussions of using monster meat instead of animal meat even though she was an expert at ancient magic and should know why it’s such a dangerous practice.
each and every single one of the major characters has some form of tragedy with their family one way or another: the toudens, marcille and her dad. chilchuck and his wife. senshi’s entire backstory. izutsumi’s hidden desire for a mother. namari’s father. shuro and his family. kabru and his mother(both tallman and elf). mithrun and his brother. thistle and the melinis.
even some of the minor characters: flamela and her dead twin sister. the twins and the floke couple. kuro being the closest mickbell has to a family. etc etc
as someone who has reread this manga several times by now, i wonder if people just… read it once as fast as they could and act like they’re some sort of authority on fan discussion. i’ve seen people brag about reading the entire thing in one sitting as if it’s something to be proud of. this manga isn’t meant to be read that fast, that’s how you get people claiming that laios doesn’t reaaally love falin as much as marcille does.
to these people, laios just gets in the way, as if it wasn’t his idea to go down the dungeon in the first place, it wasn’t him who said his pain doesn’t matter because falin suffered more than him, it wasn’t him who felt immense guilt for leaving falin behind, it wasn’t him who found her skull, it wasn’t him who killed her to save her from her chimera form. i feel like people forget about the ‘too’ part when marcille said “i miss falin too”
marcille knows how much falin and laios love each other. that’s why she asked him if she’s allowed to resurrect her and didn’t act on her own. that’s why when both times a shapeshifting monster copied marcille to trick laios, it was what she looked like at the time she was reviving falin.
as someone who DOES ship farcille, none of the romance is canon. this isn’t meant to be anti-farcille. one of the post-canon comics is about falin gently turning down shuro because she wants to travel the world, “you can’t tie a dragon down” after all. she wants to travel the world and find herself because she doesn’t know who she is outside of marcille and laios. even marcille, who was hoping she’d reject him, tears up because of how beautiful and tragic it was.
there are a lot of ship teases because what author doesn’t like a good ship tease. but to say that dungeon meshi is a romantic love more than it is a story about family(both real and found) is a great misinterpretation of the text.
I actually think (doppelgänger) Sasuke’s square jaw in Burrito anime and the funny wavy hair in Ike’s style are blessings. Like every time I see those things it’d only remind me that yep, ain’t no way that ugly ass mf is my boy LOL
One of the reasons I appreciate Team Taka’s dynamics is the presence of free will in their bond, at least to a certain extent. Sasuke didn’t force any of the members to join him or stay with him. He freed Suigetsu, then he asked both Juugo and Karin in a way that involved no coercion or manipulation on either side. And the members’ decisions to follow Sasuke in the end were all voluntary, which already sets their group apart in a series where most alliances are shaped by duty, ideology, or control.
Now, I don’t think their bond is especially deep or intensely emotional or anything, mostly because they were constantly on the move so there was barely any space, if any, for genuine heart-to-heart conversations; and also because Sasuke’s mental state was rapidly deteriorating at the time. His instability, combined with the ever-changing circumstances around them, likely prevented him from forming any deep, emotionally invested relationships during that period.
But there’s one thing about fighting alongside others in life-and-death situations: it can forge trust quickly since you have to watch each other’s backs and quite literally place your life in someone else’s hands. And as shown in the manga, during the time they’re together, Team Taka had great synergy in combat. They all saved each other when possible, knew when to jump in or step back, and followed Sasuke’s lead in dire situations without resisting his decisions, showing a certain level of trust in each other’s abilities and, by extent, assessments and judgements.
There’s also an instance when Sasuke awoke his second Mangekyou Sharingan’s ability to save Karin when the black flame caught her. And as we all know, the evolutions and/ or developments of the Sharingan are tied to strong emotions (love, protectiveness, hatred, grief, fear—any feeling that’s intense enough can trigger the transformation, not just hatred only as the anti-Uchiha crowd would like to scream about the so-called Curse of Hatred propaganda.) Sasuke even includes Team Taka, along with Team 7, in the list of people he wants to protect, which is also a good indication that they hold a meaningful place in his heart.
From the members’ side, they could have left at any time they wanted to. It wasn’t like Sasuke held his sword to their throat then dragged them along with him by a forced loyalty, like, ever. They remained by his side on their own volition, which means they chose to stay for reasons that mattered to each of them (which I’d like to dive deeper into in another post when I have time to re-review the manga.) Their bond might not be the deepest or most profound connection in the series, but it’s certainly real. And honestly, it doesn’t matter what we, the readers, choose to label it—friends, comrades, found family, teammates with benefits, assortment of Orochimaru’s experiments gone rogue, whatever.
Sasuke did have a goal in mind when choosing Team Hebi/Taka, but he didn’t manipulate them into following him out of obligation for being freed. They knew they had a choice. And while I’d objectively categorise their relationship as “good comrades” at best and “mutually beneficial allies” at worst, the key thing here is that no one’s autonomy was denied. And to me, that’s a rare and valuable dynamic, an aspect that should be highlighted and held in higher regard, especially when you consider:
Every member of Taka had previously been subjected to varying degrees of captivity, experimentation, or psychological manipulation, often without genuine consent (even in cases where it seemed like they had agreed, it’s hard to ignore how both Orochimaru and Kabuto relied on coercion, deceit, and power imbalances to secure that compliance.)
How many people in Sasuke’s life approached him with an agenda or ulterior motive, with their own vision of what he “should be” or “should act like”, rather than seeing him as a person with his own desires and trauma. Very few ever truly cared about his feelings, wants, thoughts, or even his autonomy. Almost no one, even those closest to Sasuke, genuinely saw or treated him as a person instead of a tool to use, a pawn to control, or a prize to gain.
Yes, including the two people who supposedly loved him most: Itachi and Naruto. Not at first or always, at least. While I can give Naruto some benefit of the doubt since he eventually made an effort to understand Sasuke’s perspective as the story progressed (though how successful he truly was is still debatable in my opinion), Itachi, on the other hand… his love for Sasuke is deeply complicated. I want to believe it was genuine, that he truly loved Sasuke from the bottom of his heart, but the way he showed it was so explicitly entangled in manipulation, lies, deception, and gaslighting; a love so complex and twisted that it felt like a “great in theory, terrible in execution” case.
There’s one panel where Killer Bee asked Itachi why he didn’t use Shisui’s eye to brainwash Sasuke earlier, to which Itachi replied that he couldn’t at that time because the ability has a 10+ years cooldown. That choice of word—“couldn’t”, not “wouldn’t”—is horrifying in its implication. And he still planned on doing it in the future by giving Naruto that eye! (Though, in his defense, he did say that he hoped Naruto’d never need to use its power, but still, the intention here is clear enough to suggest that Itachi was willing to go as far as completely erasing his brother’s autonomy if he deemed the act necessary.)
Naruto, on the other hand, was very adamant and insistent about taking Sasuke back to the village without trying to truly understand the logic behind his actions for more than half of the story. Most of the time, Naruto prioritised Sasuke’s survival and reintegration into Konoha over respecting his free will. While his intentions may stem from care, his actions still reflect a disturbing willingness to sacrifice Sasuke’s agency for a greater ideological goal.
So… to both of them (at least at the points of the story I’ve listed), as long as Sasuke’s alive and potentially moldable, even as a docile puppet without free will to serve Konoha, then it’s alright? His own feelings and thoughts might as well be ignored and discarded since they didn’t benefit—and even actively went against—their pro-Konoha view? I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck?
And this is coming from the two individuals who we’ve been told repeatedly that they love Sasuke the most. That’s without even delving into the broader, deeply unsettling pattern of how the people around Sasuke have treated him: projecting their own ideals onto him without considering him as an individual with a mind of his own (as seen with Kakashi), idolising him superficially without making any real effort to understand him (as many), or reducing him to a tool for their own purposes (as Orochimaru, Kabuto, Obito, and probably more but you got my point with those three already.)
Sasuke’s autonomy is repeatedly undermined, ignored, or outright stripped and taken away from him throughout the manga. He is used, manipulated, and burdened with expectations that weren’t his own, and then vilified when he constantly attempts to break free and reclaim the ability to make his own choices, independent of others’ influence or control.
How is that in any way fair?
All in all, that’s why I think Team Taka’s relationship with Sasuke is such a breath of fresh air. While it might not be that deeply sentimental, there’s trust, there’s respect, and no emotional blackmail or narrative of control disguised as love. Each of them had their own reasons for joining, and none of those reasons involved denying Sasuke his agency. That’s more than I can say for most of the people in his life.
By no means do I think their relationship is perfect: it’s messy, pragmatic, occasionally dysfunctional, and sometimes strained by Sasuke’s deteriorating psyche, but it’s real, authentic, and valid. They trust each other in battle, respect each other’s individuality, and operate without the manipulation that defines so many of Sasuke’s other connections. I’d go even further to argue that this dynamic offers a counterpoint to the series’ broader themes of control and sacrifice, showing that bonds can be meaningful without requiring someone to surrender their free will.
So, in my opinion, Kishimoto really missed the opportunity to explore the richness of Team Taka’s relationship further. The groundwork for a found family built on mutual respect and autonomy was right there, but it was sorely underutilised. They could have become a symbol of true partnership, where each person is respected not as a tool, but as an individual. Instead, they were sidelined far too early, with their bond relegated to a secondary narrative that didn’t get the development it deserved.
In the end, it was such a waste, and that’s what I truly lament. Their relationship to me was one of the few in the series that felt genuine and not overshadowed by political agendas, manipulation, or power dynamics. I wish that they’d have gone on the journey with Sasuke after the war ended.
(Which is why I’m writing post-war canon divergence fictions to see the vision I dream of for them, but well, that’s another story entirely. And while I’d love to see them as a found family, they’re by every means still very dysfunctional and chaotic at times, but that’s my cup of tea so you won’t hear me complain LOL)
(And also my thoughts on SNS as a queer platonic relationship)
Okay, let’s get this outta here first, I do draw fanarts for SNS and write some fanfics, too, so I won’t deny I’m a shipper of SNS, or at least an enjoyer of that aspect for their dynamic. Though when I scrutinise hard enough, I have to admit that I’m not a hardcore fan of them as a romantic couple.
I don’t really have a problem with their connection being viewed through a romantic lens. What bothers me is the widespread tendency to default to romance every time two characters share a connection that is emotionally intense, transformative, or intimate. There’s this underlying implication that once a bond reaches a certain threshold of depth or devotion, it must inevitably be romantic or sexual, and there’s no room for any other explanation or interpretation, as if no other kind of connection could possibly justify that level of closeness.
That frustrates me because it implies that romantic love is inherently superior to all other forms, which I strongly disagree with. That mindset is not only limiting but also reductive. It reflects a broader cultural narration to prioritise romantic love as the apex of human connection, as though it’s the only kind of relationship worthy of narrative climax or personal sacrifice.
But why must deep love always have to be romantic to be considered meaningful? Why can’t we acknowledge that platonic, familial, or even ideological bonds can be just as intense, just as life-altering?
In the case of Naruto and Sasuke, their relationship is clearly central to the entire narrative arc of the series Naruto. Their actions shape the trajectory of the world, while their choices reflect a deep psychological and emotional connection that borders on spiritual. But whether we interpret that as romantic or not shouldn’t have to be the ultimate measure of its significance. What they share is foundational. It doesn’t need to be romantic to be everything.
A quick two cents: here is where the concept of a queerplatonic relationship (QPR) becomes relevant in my opinion. For anyone who’s unfamiliar with the term, QPRs describe partnerships that are neither strictly romantic nor purely platonic, but occupy a liminal space that is deeply intimate, emotionally committed, and often life-defining. QPRs reject the hierarchy that places romance above all other forms of connection, and defy the boundaries of a typical romantic or platonic relationship (though noting that those boundaries can vary between person to person). From my perspective, looking at SNS through this lens can give proper space for the full spectrum of what their relationship represents: love and connection, loyalty and devotion, betrayal and forgiveness, and more, without forcing it into a romantic mold.
(back to the main topic) Overvaluing romance in such a way also does a serious disservice to other forms of love that are equally rich, complex, and worthy of recognition. When we default to interpreting emotional intensity through a romantic or sexual lens, we feed into a narrow emotional vocabulary, one that lacks the nuance to accommodate the full diversity of human connection. In this framework, intimacy becomes synonymous with romance, and emotional closeness must either culminate in sex, exclusivity, or a coupledom dynamic to be considered valid or narratively satisfying.
This mindset doesn’t just flatten character dynamics in works of fiction, it also flattens real human experience. It erases the legitimacy of non-romantic bonds, such as close friendships, familial love, found family, queerplatonic partnerships, or ideological kinship. These forms of connection can and often sustain people through trauma, isolation, and life’s most challenging periods. And yet, within dominant cultural narratives, they are consistently sidelined as lesser, transitional, or incomplete.
Such portrayals reinforce a deeply heteronormative, alloromantic, and amatonormative worldview. In this schema, the romantic dyad (typically heterosexual, monogamous, and future-oriented) is positioned as the most complete and desirable form of human relationship. All other forms of intimacy are expected either to lead toward romance, fade away, or serve as emotional scaffolding until romance arrives. This not only promotes a narrow range of relational experiences but also ostracises those who do not (or cannot) conform to it, such as aromantic, asexual, or polyamorous individuals.
But does romantic love really have a monopoly on depth, loyalty, or meaning?
Why can’t someone love another person deeply—enough to fight for them, grieve for them, live or die for them—without wanting to have sex with them or define that bond as romantic? Why must deep emotional ties be shoehorned into the exclusivity of a 1-to-1 relationship that assumes sexual and romantic coupling as the natural end goal?
To me, this line of thinking not only misunderstands love but also limits our imagination. There isn’t one single right way to express or categorise love that can dictate how one should love. Love can be a myriad of things, and romance shouldn’t be the default end goal for every intimate relationship.
There’s also an undeniable gendered dimension of this bias. Usually, when male characters express emotional vulnerability or care toward one another, the audience polarises in response: some viewers immediately interpret that intimacy as romantic or sexual, while others recoil and insist on stoic heterosexual distance. This double bind emerges from a culture that simultaneously devalues male emotional expression and fears male-male closeness unless it is couched in humour, aggression, or romantic/sexual coding. We’ve been conditioned to believe that men cannot express love unless it’s romantic, and if they do, it must either be eroticised or repressed.
Meanwhile, female characters are often granted more space for emotional intimacy in fiction, but even then, it’s not without scrutiny. Their bonds may be dismissed as “girl crushes,” diminished as “just friendship,” or, conversely, hypersexualised under the male gaze. But still, the key difference is that emotional intimacy between women is often allowed to exist without immediate narrative consequence, whereas male intimacy must either escalate (into romance) or be downplayed (into rivalry, banter, or something safely ambiguous.)
By constantly turning every profound connection into a romance, we’re not just oversaturating stories with ships (and all the unnecessary ship wars), we’re diminishing the narrative value of every other kind of bond. Not everything sacred needs to be romantic. Not every type of love fits neatly into a category with a kiss on the lips at the end.
So yes, in conclusion, while I can casually enjoy the romantic interpretation of SNS, I don’t think it has to be romantic to matter. In fact, it’s arguably more moving, more radical even, if it’s not, that in a story where two people fight, betray, forgive, and ultimately reshape the world because of the love they share without needing to kiss or couple up reminds us that human connection is not defined by romance alone.
And maybe, just maybe, that kind of love deserves more recognition than it gets.
If I have a nickel for every time I take a liking to a cat-coded character with teleportation skill, a brilliant brain of a tactical genius, a fierce love for their siblings/ family, an unimaginable amount of trauma that nobody should’ve experienced, and a disappointing character assassination at the end of the series I’ll have two and almost a half nickel. Not many, but weird that it happened twice.
Can you lot fucking stop with the “Sasuke’s a hard-worker and Itachi’s a prodigy” thing?
It. Is. Not. Canon!
For fuck’s sake, stop! This is made-up bullshit. It’s so goddamn infuriating now to see this moronic take plastered across many a post, from Sasuke fans no less, when it’s got no basis in canon. None! And why’s Itachi a prodigy, exactly? What sort? Clue me in. I’m all eyes and ears. I’ve asked this question many times on here, but with no response from the people that insist on this nonsense. Let’s look at some facts:
One of the most perplexing things about die-hard Sakura fans who ship sssk to me is how they think it’s a good end for her.
I mean, imagine yourself in a relationship/ marriage in which your spouse is already spiritually connected to the deepest, most meaningful extent possible to another person. They might still love you in a way, maybe, since there are many kinds of love, but you will never be able to connect to them to that level. No matter how fiercely you care for them, no matter how much effort you pour into the relationship, there is always an invisible wall you cannot and will never be able to breach.
Their darkest secrets, their worst fears aren’t shared with you. Neither their dreams nor the raw and unfiltered essence of their being, since those are already reserved for that one connection that excludes you. You can never understand them in the way that person does. Their heart will never fully be yours and only yours. You’re not their soulmate, and they will not love you in a selfless and all-encompassing way as the agape love they share with that person.
Imagine having someone physically but not emotionally. You might share a home with them, but you will never be able to enter that sacred place where their soul resides since it’s already occupied by another person.
Worse thing is, you’ll be constantly reminded of it, whether intentional or not. A fleeting look, a drifting thought, a beat of shared silence that only them understand, any moment of subtle hesitations or the unspoken boundaries between you and your spouse. They may care for you with a love that is still real but incomplete, a love that feels like a compromise. It’s tempered by obligation and habit, always secondary, always less. You are their partner, their spouse, but never their everything.
Can you truly be content knowing you are not their deepest, most profound connection? Can you build a life with someone whose heart is divided, whose truest self is shared with another? I don’t know about you, but personally I don’t think I can. It requires a painful kind of selflessness to love and stay in a relationship with someone knowing they cannot love you in the same boundless way they cherish their soulmate, and I’m too selfish for that. I’d rather remain single or settle down with someone who might not love me that much, or I don’t love that much, but at least neither of us is eternally tethered to another soul.
And if there is one or two things I can tell about Sakura’s character, that she inherently is never that selfless, if not the opposite. She does care fiercely about the important people in her life, but intrinsically, she cares about her own feelings first and foremost, so she’ll definitely suffer a great deal in such a relationship. No matter how hard she tries to tame and change her feelings, there is something that’s just essentially unchangeable.
Is that really happiness for her? Do you truly wish that for your favourite?
A close up of Sasuke's eyes in one of my recent pieces. I enjoy drawing his Sharingan (and by extent, the Mangekyou and the EMS) more than the Rinnegan or his normal eyes, not because they’re less beautiful but because colouring in red feel more fun to me smh 😂
Also his Mangekyou & EMS designs are just so peak, I especially love the inverted colour palette and the lotus-like shape of the six-pointed star 🥹 There’s no canon explanation for all that but knowing Kishimoto and his love for symboIism, I doubt that the designs were purely just an artistic choice without any deeper meaning. I might dive deeper into this topic of how highly likely there’s some Japanese philosophy behind that when I have time to do proper research then...
Just got some new ear piercings yesterday and it reminds me that I haven’t upload the (almost) finished version of this NaruSasu couple earrings fanart.
tangentwithtanner
stormborns
