同じ空の下

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[sasusaku-headcanons]

48. like sand, it slips

(2) As a child, she used to look forward to Papa's arrival as he brings with him all kinds of toys and dresses and books and as he's Papa. But as time went by, Papa's arrivals became too few and far in between and his departures came too soon. Mama acts like it doesn't bother her. She smiles and kisses him and wishes for his safety. Sarada realizes that *she* is not okay with it and allows herself to hate Papa and his ways. Why isn't he always home?

One.

He is not like mama – that is how far Sarada’s thoughts take her for now.

She cannot articulate how this person comes and goes. How he is not constant, how he is a fleeting almost-never-there presence. All she knows that he is not like mama. 

So she hides behind a skirt, warily glances at him from beneath furrowed brows, and cries when she is passed from her mama’s safe, warm arms to his open, yet uncertain ones. 

She cannot understand, either, the new wounds she cuts into an already battered heart. She cannot know this, has no way of knowing it, and it is not her fault. It is his.

Three.

By now, she knows enough to call him Papa.

She runs happily and confidently towards his waiting arms whenever his looming presence graces their doorway, and chatters endlessly about everything and nothing while he listens more intently than even mama or aunt Ino or even Uncle Naruto. She holds her hand out expectantly for the gifts he always brings – pretty dolls, or pinwheels, or paper kites. And she kisses him on the cheek and wraps her arms about him as they both head to wherever mama is at the moment.

She likes him, this man who smells of sunlight and pines and sea and earth and faraway lands.

She knows enough, now, to bask in his attention whenever it is available, because she finds that soon, always too soon, it will be taken away again.

But she cries whenever he goes, she screams and rages and begs. And mama always tells her to stop, and pries her little arms gently but firmly away from her papa’s legs. Sarada always makes it as difficult as possible, so mama throws bribes and threats and empty promises just to get her to relent.

She feels angry at mama, whenever she does this. After all, mama cries too, though she always does it when papa is already gone and when she thinks there is no one to see. So mama has no right to be angry at her for doing the same thing.

  Five.

Sarada makes less of a fuss about his comings and goings now. She carries herself with the dignity and pride befitting an academy student – the top one, at that.

He still brings her gifts, but better ones this time. Books and dresses and Kunai and Shuriken and metal wires. She loves these gifts, but she loves his presence even more.

So she gives him something in return too, stories about school and papers bearing proof of her good grades. He claims that this is the best gift she could ever give him, and is always happy to hear about her progress. She always wishes, though, always hopes, always prays, that maybe one day her gifts will be enough to make him stay.

They train together, sometimes, and she cannot help but be impressed by her father’s skill. He is a legend among shinobi, and she cannot be prouder.

She learns from him, learns about taijutsu, ninja theory, calculating kunai trajectories, and sometimes the occasional ninjutsu. She also learns to cherish the days when he is home, because they are better days, beautiful days, when mama’s smile is brighter than it usually is, when papa – though still stern and stoic – seems soft and content, when they feel more whole, more like a family, than they ever do in his absence.

Of course, this bubble of perfection is always burst, for papa always seems to have something important to do, somewhere important to go.

She doesn’t cry anymore, though. She merely stands with mama as they exchange their goodbyes. Mama kisses him on the cheek, hugs him, and wishes him a safe trip. Sarada hugs him too, and leaves him with a list of gifts she wants next time, for there always is one – a next time, that is – and until then, she will study and train and wait and hope.

  Seven.

Papa teaches her the katon goukakyuu no jutsu. He tells her how important it is for their clan, how his own father, her grandfather, taught him, and how he would now pass the technique to her.

She trains for days to master it, trains enough to almost feel as if the lake is her second home. She comes home every night, cheeks and lips blistered, and thanks the gods that her mama is the most excellent medic nin in the world. Mama makes the pain go away, as she always does. Afterwards, she buries her head in her mama’s chest, sinks into her warm and soothing embrace, and sleeps.

Each night, she teeters on the edge of giving up. But Sarada has her mother’s strength, and this is what makes Sarada get up the next day to try again.

Finally, finally, after what seems like forever,she learns to breathe fire.

She transforms the lake into a fiery inferno, better than any Uchiha has before and better than any Uchiha ever will, though she has no way of knowing it.

In the aftermath, she stands engulfed in hot steam, her entire body ringing with her victory. Her skin stings and burns and she can already feel the blisters forming, but she is basking in the glow of her father’s pride, and she finds that she does not mind the pain a bit.

‘You are truly an Uchiha’, he tells her. But all she can think of is that she is her mother’s daughter. And that she is strong.

It is the happiest that she has ever been. And she thinks, for sure, that this time, this time, she has made him proud enough for him to finally, finally, stay.

But he doesn’t.

And she learns, then, of another Uchiha legacy. She learns to hate.

  Nine.

She knows enough now to see the gifts for what they are – bribes, apologies.

She still accepts them, but with far less enthusiasm, far less warmth. She sets them aside, too quickly, too soon, barely even looked at, and relishes the frown that mars his lips, the hurt that clouds his eyes. She cuts wounds again into his tattered heart, and this time she knows it.

He can apologize, but that does not mean she has to forgive.

Mama frowns at her too, disapproving, disappointed. Unlike her, mama is still enthusiastic, still welcoming, still warm, and Sarada cannot help but be annoyed at that. She knows for a fact that mama hates the fact that papa is never home; mama aches with every moment that she misses her wayward love, though she always smiles through the hurt. When will she be angry, when will she decide that she has had enough? There has to be a limit to her martyrdom.

After all, Sarada has only been waiting for seven years, and already she is angry. Mama has been waiting for so much longer. Mama, if Aunt Ino is to be believed, has been waiting since she was twelve. If anything, she should be so much angrier. She deserves so much more, and yet, and yet she settles. She smiles and waits, ever patient, ever loving, always to be taken for granted.

She tells mama this sometimes, but all she says is that papa has already been through too much, and that they should not add to his pain.

Sarada knows enough now to realize how unfair this is. Papa is not the only one with pain, after all. Mama hurts too. Hell, she, Sarada, hurts too – though she is loath to admit it.

She is also smart enough to know that it is not just papa’s fault. Mama should put her foot down and ask papa to stay at home, if not for her own sake, then for her daughter’s, and if not for her, then for the little boy who is already learning to walk but still cannot say ‘papa’.

But papa does not stay, and mama never asks him to.

So she rolls her eyes at them and tells them that she will be going out with Bolt to train. Bolt, at least, understands. He is not suffocating, not stupid, not hopeless, and not hurtful. She is happy when she is with Bolt.

Her parents, she cannot quite stand. But mama is constant, at least, and is always there when Sarada or Hikaru needs her. Papa, on the other hand, is never there, so always, always, she finds that she cannot stand him more.

In fact, these days, she finds that she prefers his absence, rather than his presence.

  Twelve.

Sarada is twelve when her papa finally stays.

Mama is very happy, little Hikaru is happy, and though it’s not very easy to tell, papa is happy too. So Sarada decides that she will be happy as well.

She ruffles Hikaru’s hair affectionately and promises to bring him some treats when she gets back, embraces her mother and father and promises them that she will be extra careful and that she will remember all that they taught her.

She does not miss how her papa lingers a bit, hesitance killing words before they leave his lips. Mama stands with him, takes his hand in hers, and holds it tight. At this, papa relaxes slightly.

There is pride, but also immense sadness, in her papa’s eyes, but Sarada isn’t too worried. It has always been that way with him, after all; his happiness has always been peppered with regret and melancholy, tinged with the tragedies of the past, tainted with the sins of a lifetime, and shadowed by fears of the future.

Mama is there to take care of him, though, and she is sure that Papa will be okay. Besides, Sarada has to admit that part of her thinks that it is nice that, this time, he will be the one to wait.

So she turns around and walks out of the village gates with Konohamaru-sensei, Lee Jr., and an excited, hyper, cannot-be-contained-at-all Bolt. Sarada smiles contentedly, and does not look back, even as they pass the gargantuan wooden doors. She looks forward, ever forward, into the rising sun and the open future. She and her friends banter and laugh as they embark on their very first mission as a team, and Sarada thinks, knows, that it is her turn now to write her own story into the world.

  Fin.

[sasusaku-headcanons]

Naruto 699: Beki speak Disclaimer: Made for fangirl fun. Scans: Mangastream Words: lilmikomiko Part 2

[sasusaku-headcanons]

47. she is how things begin

「　十　」 The hours that she spent waiting for Papa's return were Sarada's favorite moments. "Seriously," She bemoans one afternoon, as she thumps her head on an open book. "Why?" "Hmm," Mama is in a good mood, as she tilts her head while clacking away on her laptop for another case presentation exams for her interns. They had taken refuge on the living room, waiting for Papa to arrive anytime now. Dinner was already heated, and ready to be prepared, and she was so happy that she even cleaned all the rooms in the house. Sarada was even forced to clean her own bedroom because of her mother's sudden energy, before working on her homework. "Yes, Sa-chan?" "Why did you let Papa name me?" She mumbled, looking less like her father, and almost imitating her mother when she saw her whining to herself about extended hours in the office. "Honestly, a salad?"

She loved to humor the imagination of her fanciful little girl. ( well, not really, she believed in superstitions, still. the scent of chrysanthemums & white-plums in her corridors sets a deep dread in her gut ) With a quick browse of the last notes at the bottom, she signed the third chart haphazardly. "But didn't you tell me that you need to take more laps? We'll take the stairs, then." "But Mama!" She squeaked. "You're not scared to play hide and seek in the morgue with the others," She rolls her eyes in exasperation, as Sarada makes the how-did-you-know blanched expression that every mother knows by instinct. Sarada's streak of pranking her friends in the dead was really hilarious - as it involved saving the future Shichikage from public embarrassment when he sprung a pre-genin genjutsu trap. "But you're scared to take the stairs because you might see a doppelganger? Sa-chan, come on." "Doppelgangers aren't real! I don't to interrupt the dance ritual to banish the undead on the second floor!" "Dance Ritual?" Sakura scrunches her brows, intrigued that she hadn't heard of that particular tale before. "I saw Auntie Ino and Uncle Sai dancing by exchanging cooties in the -" "I'm done, Sa-chan." Sakura shut the metal chart and her book quickly. The girl knowing what's next, goes to her corner and shoves all her things on her bag as quickly as possible. "We are going to the mall." With one sweep of her Mama's hand, she grabs her purse with a flourish and takes out those pretty heels, as she took of her flats."And I'm going to call your Auntie to buy you a pair of boots, a pretty dress and that lovely seven-part bookset you wanted for your birthday." "Love you, Mama!" === (三) "Ma? Ma? Done?" Sakura merely nods, and pecks a kiss on her cheek. Like what they have a thousand times, Sakura gives her simple, wheat-colored missive to her daughter. Then, Sarada slides it in between the pink stationary that contained only four characters (　パパ好き ) and her latest masterpiece - a beautiful stick drawing depiction of her father battling evil monsters in some faraway land - on the floral-patterned envelope. She runs to the window, and allows her to tie it correctly to the summoned hawk's leg. === (零) "Sarada." Sasuke blinks, unable to decipher his wife's voice - cracked and coarse, still exhausted. He lets the silence settle for a while, his eyes raking the slumbering form of their child, while his thumb brushed away the soft downy hair on the expanse of the infant's wide forehead. Dark eyes met her somber green ones, bright with the first sunlight of the day. She sat on a nest of pillows and blankets, the pink of her hair mussed and covering every curve of her pale face. He inclines his head at the side, wondering why. "Sarada?" She nods, and looks at him, and the way he had carried their swaddled child in his arms. "She's the first of your clan." Her fingers echoes the gentle touch on the fall of his hair, fingers warm against his brows."I've read about your old gods," Sasuke breathes in pleasant surprise, knowing that Sakura tried her best to learn as much as she can about the history of his family, unwilling to let all of it to die out, even if he didn't need her to do it. The knowledge still makes him proud, and  "I guess it's the most fitting." "Wise beyond her years." A smile was pressed against the baby's soft spot, a tender kiss. "Uchiha Sarada."   (She doesn't tell the truth. She has not taken the name from Saraswati, but of the reincarnation of Adi Parashakti. Uchiha Sakura hasn't told him that the day that she felt her womb stir, she felt the strength of her small fist, moving it according to the thump of her bigger heart, while she can still feel the tiny pitter-pattering rhythm of her pulse under her palm. She knew that the little soul in her would be amazing. Uchiha Sakura names her not as the goddess of wisdom, but from the goddess who was reincarnated to own the [her, her, their] world )

In a child's eyes, a mother is a goddess. - N.K. Jemisin,

[sasusaku-headcanons]

46. the void that cries through you

Never compromise.

The city's marketplace was beautiful enough to rival Konoha's, with cobblestoned streets lined with colorful stalls that were manned by enterprising merchants. The citizens were bustling about with purpose, enthusiastically perusing the myriad of goods and services being sold all around them. It was noisy, busy, and the air was practically heavy with the energy of ongoing trade. In fact, the place radiated success, so much so that she would have found it difficult to believe how young it was if she had not known its history.

Had she been anywhere else, Haruno Sakura would have probably loved the city's busy atmosphere, even thrived in it.

But as it was, all the good cheer, all the signs of progress, only served to dampen her spirits.

It was humbling - if not completely depressing - to walk through the busy streets of Otogakure. And if she had any choice in the matter, she would not have taken the mission handed out by her (traitor of a) former sensei, now the Hokage of her hometown.

Sighing, she trudged through the sprawling marketplace, trying not to think of how its lively commerce bespoke of a healthy economy, and how that, in turn, bespoke of the wisdom and talent of the city's young ruler. She also tried not think about how the city’s mere presence bespoke of said young ruler’s rather uncanny ability to cut off and discard old ties, including the one he (might – because she never really was sure) have had with her.

Part of her was happy that he was doing so well. The other, more honest part of her, felt bitter that he never really seemed to need them as much as they needed him. Also, the fact that Oto was rapidly rising through the ranks of the hidden villages, more rapidly than any other village before it, including Konoha, felt like a mockery of all that she knew and loved.

It made her question herself, and everything she believed in. Had he been right all along? Had she been wrong to chase him around, to even go so far as to force him to come back? Had she been wrong to hold on for so long? Had she been--

All introspection came to an abrupt halt when she rounded a corner and went into the town square. A large crowd had gathered, filling the place to the point that it became difficult to maneuver through. Sakura's brows furrowed, wondering what all the commotion was about, when the loud snap of a trapdoor opening and the sickening thwack of a rope going taut caught her attention. She screamed, but her cry was drowned by the crowd erupting in a deafening roar of approval. And then everything seemed to slow; she could hear nothing but shrill white noise, could see nothing but the suspended, still-twitching bodies.

Dizzy, she felt dizzy.

Swaying, she turned and pushed her way through the crowd and out of the square, back to the safe sanity of the market, and hopefully - as quickly as possible - out of the gates of this infernal city. She was fully intent on abandoning her mission, consequences be damned. Kakashi could strip her of her ninja rank, for all she cared - just as long as she never needed to spend a single second more in Oto. She felt like retching - could taste the bile rising from the back of her throat.

She had never been a stranger to death, but this-- and by someone she knew-

She could almost see the pillars adorning the doorway to the city when she felt a hand grasp her wrist.

"Sakura."

The painfully familiar voice sliced through her panic, rendering her immobile.

"Sakura," he called again, more insistently this time, concern and impatience lacing his voice.

She was almost afraid to turn around and look at him, for fear of seeing a monster. But when she did, she saw nothing but the same handsome face, the same brooding frown, the same messy dark hair, the same boy she still loved.

"Sasuke-kun," she breathed.

“You look sick.”

It took her a moment to process what he said, but it was that deadpan comment so typical of him that brought her back to reality and allowed her to reacquaint herself with her surroundings, and with her purpose for being there.

“I feel sick,” she finally answered, meaning it in more ways than one.

What she saw unnerved her, showed her exactly the extent to which her former teammate was willing to go for his principles. It sickened her, how he could be so ruthless and inhuman, and wrong. And it made her thankful that he never got his hands on beautiful Konoha, twisted though it may be beneath the surface.

More than that, though, she felt such deep disgust at herself. How could she still-- But there was no denying it, no matter how much she wished otherwise. Even after years of growth and separation and even after such a jarring, disgusting shock, it was still there - that all-encompassing feeling that consumed her and blinded her to everything else whenever he was in the vicinity. And that surety - that certainty - that she would still do anything and everything she could, if it meant that he would have just a sliver of happiness. It was still there.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion before his expression dissolved into one of understanding.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. You’re early. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

Sakura found that she had no answer to that. She wondered what would have happened if she had been on schedule and had never witnessed the horrible spectacle that she just did. She knew on a cerebral level that it was better for her to have known of this, especially if she were to negotiate with him on behalf of her own village.

“Come. We can have our meeting at the tower”, Sasuke gestured to her, and they began walking in an uncomfortable silence.

She knew she should have been thinking of their upcoming meeting, but all she could think of was the public execution and all of its implications.

“What were their crimes?”, she finally asked, unable to hold the question in.

“Theft.”

She fought to keep her voice steady, but failed completely when she heard his answer.

“Theft?! Theft! How much did they have to steal to warrant an execution? This is wrong, Sasuke-kun” her anger sputtered out from her in a show of indignance as she stopped walking, adopting a rigid, unbudging, almost challenging stance.

Sasuke stopped too, a few steps ahead of her, then turned to her, his brows furrowed.

“It doesn’t matter. Theft is theft.”

“What did they steal?”

“It doesn’t matter. I never compromise.”

Sakura’s lips thinned. “I still want to know. Indulge me.”

Sasuke grit his teeth. She knew he was probably annoyed, but that didn’t matter. She had to know.

“I have never hid what I am from you, Sakura, but you have always been adamant in your delusions.”

There was a bitter, angry tinge in his voice that went unnoticed by the fuming pink-haired girl.

“Indulge me”, she said again, more firmly this time.

“Fine,” he bit out, his voice laced with vitriol, “One stole money, the other stole bread. Now will you let the subject drop?. You’re not here to discuss principles with me. And frankly, you have been remiss in showing the Otokage more deference. Need I remind you that it is your village that asked for this meeting?”

Some of the bluster left Sakura then. Kakashi had sent her here thinking that Sasuke had at least a soft spot for her. But if she made him angry, then Konoha’s chances of opening a trade route with one of the most significantly growing markets grew very dim. She had advised him that it would have be wiser to send Shikamaru in her stead, but Kakashi hadn’t listened. Either way, what was done was done She had a mission, and she could never allow herself to be the cause of Konoha’s economic collapse, even if the possibility of said collapse was still very far in the future.

She drew a deep breath, and clenched her fist. She was a Konoha kunoichi, and she would not show weakness. She would not embarrass herself further. Especially not in front of him.

“I apologize, Otokage-sama. Please forgive my manners.”

She gave a deep bow then, and completely missed the painful frown that briefly crossed Sasuke’s features.

---

“Sakura.”

“Otokage-sama”, she greeted as she made a formal bow, again missing his slight flinch. This was already their fourth meeting, and they had been making steady progress in advancing the mutual interests of their own respective villages.

When she had gotten home from her first mission – a success, despite its rocky start – she had discussed the issue with Kakashi, and it turned out that he knew already knew about it. While fundamentally disagreeing with Sasuke’s philosophy, Konoha had no say in the matter. It was his village, his rules, and they had to respect that. Besides, if she did not have a vested interest in who the said leader was, she probably would not have reacted so strongly. They had, after all, seen much worse, even before the war.

And as always, Kakashi was (frustratingly, irritatingly) right.

As it was, Sakura was advised to keep things civil and to refrain from further judgment – which was why she had to be the picture of a perfectly polite diplomat right now.

It was difficult, though. She saw him more often these days, and yet he felt more distant than ever, more out of her reach. He always treated her with respect, but never with warmth. And that made her feel like her insides were slowly churning in a sea of acid.

Still, even if things were this way, it was better than never knowing where he was, or how he was.  It was better than forever chasing after his shadow, never knowing if he was still alive or if he had died somewhere, alone and un-mourned.

This was better, still not ‘ideal’, but better. And if it was the only thing she could ever have with him, no matter how inadequate, she would take it.

  ---

“So, Otokage-sama, Konoha will send you a percentage of the tax collected from grain sales and Oto will--”

“Walk with me.”

She blinked at the suggestion, unsure of what to make of this new development. She had come back numerous times, and they usually just stayed in the confines of his office to hash out the finer details of their villages’ trade agreements. So this - this thing - was a very unusual change. But of course, no matter what her misgivings, she could hardly refuse an offer from the Otokage.

“Okay,” she agreed uncertainly.

She fell into pace beside him as they stepped out of the office, out of the tower, and into the streets, lapsing into a companionable silence.

Usually, whenever she visited Oto, she made a beeline for the Kage’s tower, then went straight back out as soon as their meetings were concluded. This would be the first time she would actually see the village since her primary visit here, when she found that she had lost all interest in learning more of it after seeing the bloody pillars that kept it in place.

But she had to admit, Oto was becoming rather impressive in terms of growth. Give or take a few decades, it might just become the most successful village out there, even more so than Konoha – of course, in her opinion, that success came at too high a price.

But she had decided long ago that, though she did not agree with Sasuke, and in fact condemned his methods, she would not judge him. It was not her place to do so, and he certainly never asked for her approval.

Still, Oto was a pleasant town, peaceful and lively, and you did not have to watch your belongings too closely even when you passed by the more crowded streets. And she found that, as long as she steered clear of the village square, it was a wonderful place to be.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be where Sasuke was taking her.

Her trepidation grew as they drew closer and closer, and her steps were beginning to falter. Sasuke must have noticed, for he lightly took hold of her elbow and guided her through the streets. People, she noticed, were making a path for them, all of them with their eyes averted, children in particular took particular care to keep hidden – a very stark contrast to how Konoha’s villagers treated the third, or Tsunade, Kakashi, and as the future Hokage, Naruto.

Sasuke was the people’s leader, but he seemed to feel more like an overlord. The people respected him, but did not love him.

Then, just as they were about to turn the corner into the village square, she paused, unable to take a step further. She wondered if he was going to show her another execution, if he was trying to make a point, though for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. Things had been going well between them, maybe not warm, but well. She hadn’t said a single thing about his philosophy, not a single criticism, though she had many.

As if sensing her reluctance, he sighed and said.

“It’s okay. Listen.”

She did, and to her surprise, she heard music.

Sakura looked questioningly at Sasuke, to which he gave a small (painfully beautiful) smirk, as he placed a hand at the small of her back and lightly pushed her towards the square.

The place was transformed. It was still crowded, but the atmosphere was completely different. Everywhere, people were dancing and singing. Various instruments and voices converged together in a lively, upbeat melody. There were colorful banners hanged in several places all around the square, tents and stalls scattered all over the place in an organized mess.

“It’s the annual music festival. Music, as you well know, is Oto’s thing. I think it’s very important to keep culture alive. Come.”

He led her into a small purple tent. Inside, the lights were dim, and there was a small band that was playing slow , somewhat melancholic music, through flutes.

“This band is my personal favorite.”

Sakura’s eyes widened at the personal information that he just offered. This was completely unlike him. Usually, their conversations were limited to percentages, tariffs, and trade agreements.

She would have commented on it, but Sasuke had fallen silent and contemplative as he closed his eyes and let the song’s melody wash over him.  

Sakura could not take her eyes off of him, afraid that if she blinked, she would lose sight of this new and beautiful side of Sasuke that she had never before seen.

When the song ended, Sasuke turned to her, holding her gaze, as he spoke, too softly, too tentatively, too sadly.

“I’m not a monster, Sakura.”

Tears, unbidden, pooled in her eyes, as she reached up to cup his face, but she paused, afraid, unsure if he would allow her to take such a liberty. Much to her surprise, however, he took hold of her hand and brought it to his face.

“I don’t know you at all, do I, Sasuke-kun?”

Sasuke seemed to lean into her touch further at the sound of his name. Then, he let out a deep breath.

“No,” he whispered, “no you don’t—“

“I am so, so, sorry, Sasuke-kun—”, she began crying in earnest, then, regret and shame and joy and exaltation permeating over every fiber of her being as he pulled her into his arms.

That day marked the very first time that Sakura stayed longer than she had to in the Hidden Village of Otogakure.

---

  What he did was wrong.

It was wrong, and he had no right.

It was selfish, and it was stupid, it was weak, and it was wrong.

He shouldn’t have taken her to the festival.

In fact, he shouldn’t have seen her again at all.

He knew, he knew, the moment he saw her running out on the very first time she visited his village, that it would just be better to let her go, let Konoha send someone else. He knew he should have let her leave with the blinders off, seeing the ugly horror that he really is.

But as always, the fact that it was Sakura made him settle for half-measures.

The girl did have a knack for shaking his resolve, of messing up whatever order he had in his head, of making him do that exact opposite of what he had wanted to do in the first place, of making him want to meet expectations but falling miserably, horribly, short -- and he had known of all of that from the very start, from the moment he felt her arms around him and cleared the haze of bloodthirst from his head all those years ago at the Forest of Death.

Sakura was dangerous. And he knew that.

In fact, he should have rejected Kakashi’s offer to send Sakura there for negotiations in the first place, that bastard.

Maybe he should have killed her-- no, no, he knew, knew with a sick, disgusting certainty, that had he been successful then, it would have been his undoing, the snap of the last thread holding his sanity. He would not have been able to come back from whatever void he had descended to, if he had been the one to end her. He did not like to admit it, but he knew that his failure then was one of the few small mercies that the fates had given him (and another one of the many favors he owed Naruto).

But he should have, at the very least, stopped himself from bringing her to the festival.

He groaned, slumping at his desk in frustration, wishing that he could somehow turn back time and erase yesterday. He had been doing so damn well. But it was the way she addressed him, each time the words “Otokage-sama” left her lips, he felt like pins and needles were being driven underneath his nails.

Her presence, so available and yet so forbidden from him, was bad enough - but her disdain, her disdain was too much. And it was the last straw. He wouldn’t have been able to take it, if he heard her call him "Otokage-sama" one more time.

He was tired, he was just so very tired.

He could handle the world’s hatred - it was hard, but he could do it. He could handle his village’s lack of love for him, even as he sacrificed his entire being, even as he sacrificed every chance for happiness, just for them. He could handle it all.

He had resolved to do so the moment he… the moment he walked away from her, actually.

When she asked him not to, asked him not to walk away if he felt anything - no matter how little - for her. That was when he threw every shred of his past and every hope of a happy future away. Another mistake - there, then -- he should have told her he felt nothing, should have dashed all her feelings with a swift and final rejection, should not have listened to her confession in the first place. But he needed to hear her words, needed it for the years of solitude to come, needed it, even as he knew that it would be his torture and his redemption at the same time.

She was cruel, then, for offering up something he knew he could not, should not, accept. There was always a touch of cruelty in Sakura’s unconditional kindness. And he was cruel too, for leaving her as he did. But then there was a touch of kindness in his cruelty as well, never mind that his kindness always fell short, as it did again, in that moment.

Another half-measure, another mistake.

But still, a girl like Sakura had no business being with him, just as he told Kakashi. He had told Kakashi he wasn’t interested - a lie. It had been easier, much easier, to lie to Kakashi. But he had a feeling that the old man hadn’t been fooled.

Damn him.

Kakashi-- he had to write Kakashi a letter. This was the least he could do for her.

He straightened up, quickly took a piece of blank paper, and wrote down:

Hokage-sama:

I would like to formally request a replacement for Haruno Saku••

But then a small, unacknowledged part of himself said, ‘you’ve never been kind, why start now?’ His hand faltered, and an ink stain blossomed on the piece of parchment. No. No. No-no-no-no-no. He would not succumb to weakness again. Angrily, he crushed the paper in his fist, and threw it away.

He began again.

Hokage-sama:

I would like to formally••

Another ink blot. Another crumpled piece of paper.

Another try.

Hokage-sama:

I wou••

Another piece of paper for the growing pile, and it seemed to be getting worse with every attempt.

Hok••

Frustrated, he took another piece of paper, perhaps more forcefully than he should, and tried again.

He had to do this. He had to.

Hokage-sama:

I would like to formally request a replacement for Haruno Sakura in the trade negotiations.

Uchiha Sasuke

Otokage

If his writing was messier, the paper less immaculate, than usual, then the Hokage should just deal with it. This whole thing was his fault in the first place, after all.

Sighing, he affixed his seal on the parchment, rolled it up, and placed it into a sealed scroll container.

He stood up then, left his office, and slowly walked back into his bedroom, his feet feeling like they were laden with lead, his insides turning to ice.

Once there, he stared at her form for a few minutes, feeling time go both too quickly and too slowly as he drank in the sight of her.  

Then he shook her awake and handed her the scroll.

“Deliver this to your Hokage.”

Sakura sit up and looked at him, confusion etched in her face.

“Sasuke-kun?”

His name sounded beautiful in her lips.

And she looked beautiful like that, her eyes still clouded with sleep, her hair in disarray, her affection for him in full display. He would remember this moment for the rest of his life.

And then comprehension dawned, and her expression turned stony.

“Of course, Otokage-sama”, she said, mustering up as much dignity as she could while she gathered her clothes, “of course.”

  ---

  There were no more festivals, after that.

  ---

  Sakura never came back.

Kakashi had been against it, offering up every bit of protest he could, saying that Sakura was the best negotiator they had and that she was still willing, even going so far as to say it was for Sasuke’s own good. But Sasuke reminded him that personal matters had no place in village negotiations, and Oto was prepared to withdraw if the Konoha remained obstinate.

Shikamaru was sent to Oto soon after.

Ever efficient, ever impersonal, and a breeze to work with. He came to Oto month after month, for several years, and there was not a single hitch to their working relationship.

“That concludes matters, then,” Sasuke said as he stacked up the pieces of parchment gathered on the table. Shikamaru stood up to leave, but seemed reluctant, causing Sasuke to look up at him inquiringly.

“Otokage-sama,” Shikamaru began tentatively in his signature nasal drawl, “if I may offer up some unsolicited advice...”

Sasuke raised a fine brow at the unusual occurence, but did not interrupt.

“You are moving too fast with all these reforms, and I do admit, Oto is growing exponentially. However, you are pushing too hard and too fast. And the thickening of the military presence in your outskirts has not gone unnoticed. The people will not take to it, nor will the other villages.”

“Is that a threat, Shikamaru?”

“Not at all,” Shikamaru seemed unperturbed, “it’s just friendly advice. You know you have strong ties in our village, especially with the Hokage and the next-in-line, and we will stand by you as much as we can. But it is no secret that Oto and Konoha’s principles do not align, not as much as, say, with Suna or Kumo.”

“You are saying that Konoha will remain neutral, should war break out.”

“Yes," he admitted quietly, "You should slow down, Otokage-sama.”

When Sasuke said nothing, Shikamaru continued, growing annoyed, his voice rising.

“You act like you have a death wish, Sasuke. Naruto and Sakura are--”

“You step out of line, ambassador. Leave before I decide to take offense.”

Shikamaru paused and looked intently at Sasuke for a few minutes, then he sighed.

“She asked me to tell you to be careful and to tell you that it’s not too late”, he said at last.

“Leave.”

“Troublesome,” Shikamaru muttered under his breath as he turned and walked away, not knowing why he even bothered to try.

  ---

  The revolts began in the outskirts -- too early, and too quickly. A militia had formed, secretly funded by Kiri, Kumo, and Iwa. There was no aid from Konoha.

It was a bloody war, a war that rapidly spread from outside in, no matter how much he tried to control the situation. If it wasn’t the militia killing the villagers, it was the Otokage himself who did, for harboring militia. It was always either one or the other.

Sasuke realized a bit too late that he was not as strong as he thought he was. He also realized, a bit too late as well, that he was every bit as foolish as he brother called him.

He was too late to see the signs, and too slow to react, confident as he was in his position of power. He hadn't expected the people to turn on him too, though he knew he should have.

He was always too late for everything. Too late to save his family, too late to find out the truth about his brother, too late to admit his mistakes.

He should have followed Shikamaru’s advice, what would probably been his council's advice, had he just not been too proud and too stupid to form one.  He should have slowed down, dealt with the other villages more diplomatically, been a bit more repentant and solicitous, made more allies than enemies, made his people happier. If he had, he might have salvaged the situation. But he hadn’t, and now the capital city was destitute and in flames, his military had deserted him, and his only way to achieve victory with his pride intact was to kill each and every one of the angry mob outside, his people.

He could do it, too.

But he was tired.

He was so tired.

He was tired of the hatred, tired of being wrong, of being too late; he was tired of everything.

Not even bothering to change out of his blood-soaked clothes, he collapsed into his bed in the tower that was not quite his home, closed his eyes, and thought of the what if’s and the what could’ve beens. He thought of his family. Then he thought of how bright Naruto's future must be, how great of a leader Kakashi must be, how everyone else must be better than him.

Then he thought of her.

It would not be long now, he thought wryly as he listened to the outraged cries of the people outside… maybe he should just...

A warm hand on his brow.

“Sasuke-kun,” a too-familiar voice called.

Panic, anger, denial, bitterness, and sweet and utter happiness, swelled in his chest at that moment.

“You shouldn’t be here, Sakura,” he said, not even bothering to mask the pain from his voice as he straightened up and gathered her up in his arms, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m sorry, Sasuke-kun, I should have come here earlier. I-- I'm so weak, so stupid-- I should never have--”

He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, as he hid his face at the crook of her neck. In the end, he couldn't even save her from himself.

“Please. No.”, he said, as if wishing it could make it so, could make her be somewhere else - in Konoha, safe in her own room, with her family, with Naruto, Kakashi -- anywhere else, really. But she remained there, with him, too real, too close.

Her headband was conspicuously absent, and she looked a bit worse for wear. But she was there. Briefly, he wondered how she even got there, but then she was a talented kunoichi in her own right, and he knew shouldn’t even be surprised. Of course, if she managed to get in, she could still get out, it wasn't hard to dodge a mob. But that was foolish. She wouldn’t have taken the trouble to break into the tower if she meant to leave.

“You shouldn’t be here.”, he said again, though he was already beginning to thank the fates that she was. He was selfish, after all, and never too kind.

“And you,” she whispered, her smile watery as she put soft, pale arms around him, “shouldn’t be alone.”

He was tired, now, too tired to fight. 

So he gave in.

“Thank you.”

Fin.

  ---

  Sikrit-not-so-sikrit Epilogue (because I want to make Miko happy):

There is a farm, near the border between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rivers. In that farm is a man who contents himself with growing wheat and with raising poultry and cattle. Also in that farm is a woman, who lives to fill the man’s every day with happiness, just as she promised him twice before when they children.

They have children of their own now, a shy boy with a serious demeanor, named after the man’s brother, and a little girl with a naughty streak that she seemed to have inherited from her surrogate uncle who visits once a week (still too often for comfort, the man always grudgingly says, though he does not really mean it).

And they have another one on the way, who will most probably grace the world with his or her presence in two to three months. 

The man and the woman and their children are there because nothing, no matter how dire, is ever ‘too late’.

The woman knew of this long before; she simply just had to teach the man - and the man, he just had to give in.

[sasusaku-headcanons]

i keep rereading these fics and each time i just love them even more. thank you for writing such incredible stories. i swear these stories are what still keep me attached to sasusaku. and i really hope you have some goodies planned for sasusaku month!! :)

and we thank you, for all those wonderful prompts you gave us. (we wouldn't have such interesting topics to write for, if it weren't for your wonderful ideas!) we currently don't have anything planned for ss month for the sasusaku-headcanons tumblr, but we'll be posting for sasusakualter-reality for this month. :D so here, in appreciation (and as it's ss month) a short drabble for you : title: galaxyësummary : she is made of systems and satellites (chp 683)sakura doesn't care, that she was fighting the heavens, waging an impossible divine war she is nothing, a mere ordinary mortal - compared to her companions:  the blessed children of fate, reincarnated sons of the heavens, almost-gods that can  destroy and rebuild the world with their mere will. it's night, and the sun is unable to help her, and now, her bright crescent is eclipsed by the clouds - so sakura lets the four-faceted jewel on her forehead burn bright, the nuclei of chakra spreading in brilliant green pinpoints and molten pink patterns, the heat searing through her bones, rivaling the boiling fire beneath their feet. her body is reborn into an asterism of erupting novas and clustering nebulae, covering every inch of her with constellations - where in she breathes the same stories of ordinary men who became immortal - the ones who became heroes in untold myths, the warriors in the long epics, the battles in the glorious songs.when obito reaches out, he knows that in his hand, he holds an exploding star.

[sasusaku-headcanons]

45. wear it like an armor [T+]

(8)  隅 [sumi, corner]

It took time, but he came back.

(I make no promises. he wrote in his first & last missive of his long mission so, you can stop waiting.)

Uchiha Sasuke stood before its gates, doors open wide in a welcoming embrace.

The winter solstice was approaching, as he felt it every freezing morning, as well as the increase of tourists in each town festival he went into. But it was different in Leaf, as it seemed that the oncoming celebration was more grandiose than the village festivals he had been during his travels.

Crimson lanterns swayed from its twines, refracting sunlight in different angles. Bunches of stalls were set-up on the sidewalks, with a crowd of hagglers and vendors congesting the narrow path. A multitude of noises – from quick deals and great barters – were the droning buzz in the streets. And between the spaces of the crowd were the children, running without any care, brooms on their hands, dirt smeared on their noses and chocolates staining their teeth.

Konoha is a racket of conversations and colors, uncaring of the sacrifices it paid to maintain its current peace.

With practiced ease, he leaped on top of an empty post, taking another long look at the panoramic maze of shelters and people, against the clear blue backdrop.

It is the traditional house cleaning, the 13th day of the twelfth month, before the start of the New Year is the time to clear the past. This holiday demands the Fire citizens to sweep each space – from the most obvious ceiling cobwebs, to the hidden dust speckles that inhabited each window crack. It is a symbolic act of clearing their slate, starting with cleaning the stains in their own house.

(to Sasuke, susuharai was clearing old bone-ashes from the altars, wiping out the crumbling incense from its place. And at hatsuhinode, the whole clan would trek the naka shrine, then they would sit with their ankles and knees tucked on its wide porch.

they would wait with their palms upturned, a single coal – made from the collected dust during soot-sweeping, compacted into hard ash – on their hands.

they would always greet the first sunrise by waking the warm cinder with their breaths, coaxing it to live, a tame flamelight on their hands. and it is how the Uchiha are reborn for the promising dawn.)

He walks down the road, leading him to a familiar direction, still at odds with how strange the sights were. Memories told him that the walls and houses were not the same, the pavement felt different beneath his feet. People attempted to revive its former glory, but Sasuke knew the difference, in every acute detail. This was a mere replica of a once glorious district.

After the passing the shallow lake, at the swell of his path, he nears his childhood home, copies of an old, majestic relic.

He expected an empty house.

Instead, a wall – peppered with red-white fans and stark black slurs – greeted him.

The insults (demon) written in (die) jagged (burn).lines (monster)

If this was, a decade ago, when madness and anger had ignited his life, he would have razed the whole village. Surprisingly, the usual swell of anger was only a dull throb.

It is clear that he can perform basic chakra exercises with ease. The school-standard holster tied around his left thigh, made it possible that the boy was an academy student.

The hand paused, brush hovering over the mid-curve of a red fan.

His blue nin-sandals shifted. The boy turned to face him. The right hand slid to his short pocket, while his left one was hanging loosely, near the side of his weapon’s pouch flap.

A pair of intelligent eyes sharply glared at him.

(you bastard!)

Small dark irises glinted in recognition.

He felt unnerved that the boy didn't ask any questions, or seemed confused.

"Uchiha-san."

The voice was even, nearly polite, if it weren’t for the way the child tensed.

"Sumi-kun!"

The boy cringed.

"Kaasan."

The small voice spoke the word, all petulant – frowning mouth, furrowed brows. Looking at this child – it was like looking at a young mirror of himself.

(the wonder [fear] filled him, cut his breathing short for a second.)

"Sumi-kun! Is that –" The shoji frame snapped open, and a few moments later, a woman – clad in white, pink & red – bearing old cots and mats in her arms, ran out, panting.

All he could see now was Sakura: brilliant green eyes, wide in surprise, brimming with tears.

"Sasuke-kun...?"

Freshly cleaned floor mats fell to the ground, motes dancing around her bare feet.

(0) 「手前」 -  [teme, a vulgar word for you.]

Sakura had the right to be angry.

He left her, again.

But it isn’t fair for her to hold him fully accountable. She knew what their job entailed. She knew what being a shinobi meant – especially for someone like Sasuke – were often chosen as the primary contingents, assigned to far-flung places or sensitive missions.

(a hawk was not meant to be caged.)

And to her dismay, Sasuke took them, even though he still lived with his demons. Sakura didn’t take his decision quietly – she took it vehemently, of what she thought about this in every morning. The protests were spoken not only in her words, but in the way their bodies closely sprawled, their eyes intimately locked, their hands tightly entwined. And Sasuke for once, he agreed to compromise.

For a few months, they tried to keep their correspondence flowing –

(how are you? what are you doing? I hope you are okay? if time will allow, i can ask a med team to be sent for support there, sasuke-kun.

i miss you.

I love you  

come home.

these heartbreaking missives would crumple on his fingers, desperately holding onto them, hands tracing the splatters at every close, those faint watermarks that were once dark and damp.)

– but the incorporeal injuries he had inflicted at her throbbed, in every shorter message, every dwindling response.

Then his last letter came, and made everything clear:

Sasuke might never come back.

(2% chance? It might end in a few more years?

she shuddered in anger,

why, why do you have to take it.)

The words you have a son, bastard. how can you do this?  were barely even formed at the end, when she threw the pen and paper away.

-EIGHT YEARS LATER-

The matter – about her pregnancy, and his long absence –  was devoid of any long-suffering theatrics. Confrontations and fights ensued, yes, it was fiery enough that everyone at the downslope of their little hill could hear her arguments and feel the earth move beneath their feet.

(But Sasuke merely took the omission of truth aside, let her cathartic rage out, knowing that he had no right to explain himself. He only acknowledges on how much he had hurt her, the way he had reawakened her long dormant fears of him leaving again.

Instead, he admired her strength to move on, to raise their child alone.)

No, the drama came from an entirely different matter, which spanned for a year and a half.

SETTING: in the kitchen

the man stands rigid, heaves an exhausted sigh, even though he hadn’t spoken much

sakura : [tired, out of breath, eyes dry, but her voice is breaking]

i don't want you to marry me out of obligation, sasuke-kun it isn’t what I – or you – deserve. i can handle it on my own, you don’t need to –

sasuke : sakura.

[a deep, resonant exhale,]

no.

[he opens his mouth, makes a soundless choke]

...

[moves a step forward]

i just want

[he shakes his head, then crumples his hand into a fist to his side]

sakura.

[he stares at the floor, trembling, a surrender in the middle of an empty room]

i want to

[his mouth opens, the words are said but they cannot be heard]

sakura:

[stupefied, does not move from her place, a shallow inhale]

Sasuke resigned from active duty at thirty – the first out of the memorable rookie nine.

And this all culminated with the Rokudaime’s blessing, as they drank from the liquor of the red-black cups, and bound themselves together as man and wife.

Well-wishers were supportive of the union. Naysayers shook their heads, predicting that the couple would be a disaster in the making, one they could not help but watch.

Friends and acquaintances breathed a sigh of relief: Finally, they said, laughing in triumph as the newlywed couple walked on underneath the copses of blooming cherry trees.

 Their marriage was an expected inevitability.

 What came as a surprise to everyone, including the newlyweds, was their son’s decision.

(11) 「野郎」 [yarou, asshole]

Only one problem remained.

"We can’t influence his choices, Sasuke-kun."

Haruno Sumi, youngest academy graduate after the war, already accomplished a couple of B-class missions and currently training for his chuunin qualifications. He had barely seen his son ever since he married Uchiha-Haruno Sakura.

 "He’s already an emancipated minor.” Sakura sighed, her pen finally circling the score over the last exam, nudging her glasses with a finger and setting the finished papers aside. Sasuke was busy slicing the tomatoes in quarters, the thud of his blade was more forceful than the previous one in frustration. “He’s old enough to decide for himself."

 A cry startled them, enough that they paused in their actions, before she reached at the swaddled infant at her chest. Her hands were again full of their two month-old daughter, dropping everything in a second to lift the babe to her chest.

 His wife, who hated being unproductive even with her maternal leave, thought to continue more of her less harrowing work. Like the ocular deterioration research she dabbled during her spare time, which was scattered at the edges of the dinner table – which she left for a quick breather, finishing the third stack of the correcting the field-med licensure exams.

Sasuke already finished peeling off the potatoes when his little girl was finally satisfied to sleep again after a small burp from her quick feeding. A few moments before Sakura asked with an odd lilt to her voice.

”Besides, do you think Haruno is such a bad name?"

Something cold ran through his veins with her tone.

He knew that he almost stomped on thin ice.

“No.” He said rather quickly, voice slightly uneven. “It’s not that.”

In truth, Sasuke was more relieved than he let on.

“Then why?”

“It’s…” His hand stilled on the board, eyes tracing the cracks on the front cupboard, seeing nothing but his thoughts. ”I just want to know if…”

Knowing that any hesitance in Sasuke’s part of the conversation was serious, Sakura now gave her full attention to him.

Scooping the contents and the seeds out of the fruit, he let the silence build as Sakura looked at him expectantly. He opened his mouth, closed it, then his eyes held hers as he spoke,

“I just want to ask if-“

“Tadaima.” The soft greeting startled them, followed by the snap of a door. Both tried to ignore the unexplainable hush in the air, like the accustomed quiet that he had grown up in his old home whenever his brother came home.

“Okaeri.” Sakura broke it with a soft smile, as the young boy made his presence known. The child bowed at her rather too formally. “Have you eaten? We’re still making dinner, so you can wait for a moment-”

“It’s okay.” His sister’s tiny hand shook his index finger in greeting.

She reached to pat the top of his head, and took in his messy appearance. Mud smudges and light scratches littered on his skin, yet he seemed perfectly fine, if not for the grave frown on the boy’s face. “Nonsense! You just came from a week-long mission. Surely I can get you some –“

She suddenly cut herself off when a filled plate of onigiri materialized on the table, skillfully avoiding Sakura’s paperwork.

“Sumi,” Sasuke stared at the rigid form of his son. “eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” The boy gave him a formal bow in apology. “I’m sorry.”

Sumi then turned, and left to his room.

Sasuke let go of the knife, gathered the sliced vegetables and tomatoes, and gradually dropped the ingredients on the pot. The crackle of oil and hiss of smoke thickened the uncomfortable calm in the room. He can feel her worried green stare at his back, and almost imagine the way she would comb her short, boy-cut pink hair with her fingers, then the anxious bite of her lip.

In some ways, he can perfectly read her thoughts, knowing that she could not ignore this.

He waited.

“Sasuke-kun?”

「are you okay」

“Nothing.” He breathed in her mid-question. “It’s nothing, Sakura.”

It wasn’t the right time to discuss how his son refused to let him become his father.

(13.5) 「碌でなし」 - [rokudenashi, good for nothing]

Sumi was the perfect child.

There isn’t any fault to pinpoint on him: he was a brilliant prodigy, a respected comrade, a gentle-mannered lad, firm when leadership thrust upon him.

Sumi’s disposition strongly reminded him of his older brother, if it were not for the bright, big smiles and quirky ribbings that he would seldom show to his friends and siblings, a silent reminder that he was also Sakura’s son.

Sasuke had seen all of these qualities only at the fringes of his son’s life.

And this distance was always placed in between them. He felt the gap with every shift of a closing door, every curt response, every abrupt polite dismissal.

Naturally, one would confront their own child. But Sasuke isn’t going to repeat the same mistakes; he knows what filial pressure, clan devotion and blind loyalty to a village can do. In a way, he cannot force his son to accept him. Nor can he say that his son just needed to ask anything if he wanted.

That is why he pretends.

He pretends that the respect he receives from Sumi was real. A respectful nod when they meet in the Administration Building was given out of affection, not in deference to a superior. Another bluntly answered question that he mistook for eagerness to please, not to make his colleagues wait while he substituted the Hokage for assigning missions. This short-lived attention was what he kept to his chest, but the harsh truth will remind him soon enough, once he returns back at home.

(will of fire, isn’t this how a father was supposed to do? to worry?)

Can you blame him, for the sudden surge of anger when his son didn’t tell them?

In his shaking hand was a mission report, written curt and impersonal tone. It spoke of how the freshly-minted chuunin took the matter with his own hands when their squad leader, a skilled jounin, was killed and he quickly replaced as the lead in the genin team, escalating the simple C mission to S rank.

(if he could help it, he would forbid any child of his to take any missions at all, as long as he breathed. this accursed village has taken enough of its share of sons and daughters, of his brother, of his family.

letting Sakura go through those dangerous missions is a different matter – he would argue, she’s older, she’s proven herself, she can handle it knowing the consequences of her actions, but all he could hear blaring on his ears was hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite. because his son wouldn’t make the same mistakes that he did at his age –)

The text continues on, written with sharp lines and careful slopes, in his son’s handwriting, on how he almost endangered the team as he wanted to take the body of their superior home, but in the last minute, incinerated the body and carried his ashes for the family. But he didn’t mention that he was poisoned, whereas another team member had conveniently told at his report, following the child’s quick instructions to the young genin. And of course, this was the real cause of his delayed ETA. His mother had been worried sick, and when he returned, he was already taking on the sweep the grounds again, while explaining that they had to reroute their return home to avoid the trackers, not like the follow-up memo from the infirmary about his son’s habit in skipping the compulsory medical inspection after missions, when he used the excuse to the medics that he’ll have his mother to check on him.

(no, it wasn’t the dangers of living as a soldier that made him want his son to stop.

it was this same kindness that killed his –

...it’s unfair, for a father, to compare his son to a dead ghost.)

Right now, he stands before his son, wearing the face of a superior who had called upon a subordinate to explain his submitted more clearly. If he was more professional, he would’ve ignored this report, and let the matter drop. Let the Hokage deal with this matter. Let the others deal with this, because he did not want to lose his temper and blame the laxity of hospitals, clients omitting important mission details, the possibility that his son would die without even telling them –

(you have to sacrifice one, to protect another he can almost taste the blood on his lips, the sharp blade literally beside the curve of his quickly beating heart. a man who thought of the greater good, but in return, sacrificing many) His son stared at him with cool eyes, defiant and prepared. In his hands, he carried a form.

(and by gods, he could not imagine how one can do this. how do you tell your son that what he did was reckless, was logical, was admirable – not if the cost would be –

…be it a close friend, brother, or even my own child. )

Because the Hokage wasn’t available, he signs the form for toukebetsu jounin application, his hand trembling as he presses red stamp on the paper.

(14) 「卑劣漢」 - [hiretsukan, a despicable person]

In a few years, the name Uchiha did not induce instinctive recoils or quick silences in conversations. Still, even if the nations have already cleared his clan’s actions by indoctrinating them in the annals of history and the sworn words of those who participated in the shinobi alliance, Uchiha was still a taboo for most of those who have only heard of the tales through word of mouth, or have not seen his participation in the last moments of the war.

This is why he prepared himself when he returned in commission for a short while to be the standing Captain in a sensitive information-gathering mission. With their previous leader still in rehabilitation from an injury, he took the two groups – one were under his command, the other was the returning party – and disregarded the cautious silences he exchanged with the new faces in the ANBU team he met up with. Night had settled on the borderlines of the Fire country and they already prepared the base camp under the towering oaks, gathering together the fishes from a nearby stream and settled for a quick supper. Yet most of the three new members of the team didn’t dare approach him, even to ask for any updates on mission details or shift changes. “Commander.” Sasuke snapped out of his musings, isolated from the team, his back against the rough bark, as he feigned that he didn’t mind that his son was part of this contingent, that he didn’t let that dead-last assign his son to a god-forsaken suicide mission, in finding out if there were some rogue nins who would want to start another war for the sake of gathering the remnants of a long dead goddess that they had killed decades ago. He would rather ask Sakura to accompany them, but he knew that was asking for too much.

“Yes?” Sumi is wearing a white bone-mask without any markings, as he’s not an official member of the ANBU, yet he’s recognized in all nations as a talented medic, and now in demand of more intensive missions. “I’ve already scouted the area, and laid a few illusion traps.” He almost let out a bark of laughter at how serious Sumi’s tone is. His son is terribly efficient, and couldn’t keep still if he didn’t do anything worthwhile. He is not one to be left idle, and naturally, he would do such things without any prompting from his superiors at all. “I’ll take the first shift.” And like he predicted, Sumi indicated to the other three members who were already preparing their positions under the silent branches. Sasuke noted the fists that tightened at Sumi’s sides, and wondered if the child thought that he was underestimating him. But even if he was a valuable member of the mission, he was not an ANBU and he didn’t dare risk him to fend off to fight without recuperating from the quick, punishing pace he had set earlier.

“Take a two-hour rest.“ Sasuke conceded, even if he had no plans to include him in the sleeping turntables. “That’s final.” The child gave a stiff bow, and went to the other side of the encampment.

=

“...You mean our medic? That kid?” “Yeah,” the voice was a rough drawl, “he’s an Uchiha, no matter how the kid tried to hide it. I can see that recognizable cowlick.”

“He’ll probably kill us in our sleep. Remember the stories, Hiroshi?”

“Man, one of them slaughtered his entire family in their sleep. And the other one was the one who had murdered the previous council elders.”

A thick, bloody rage silently pounded on his head. Sasuke knew that all of this was already past him. Time had already managed to forgive all the slights that were given to him. But he kept himself in check, straining his limbs not to move a muscle, not to decapitate these fools, because he would do so, if it weren’t for the fact that he wanted to prove that his family was not a clan of hot-headed fools who would seek out blood in mere provocation.

“And if it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t even be here in this damned useless mission.”

“Of course. Good thing we’re out of earshot; he wouldn’t be able to hear us.”

“Yeah, that kid is his son, right?” “You mean, that demon?”

“I heard that the Last Uchiha forced poor Sakura-san to marry him.” “Maybe he forced her?” “Or threatened to kill her if she refused?

“Besides, can you just imagine living in that ghost town? Who wouldn’t go insane?”

“The kid might have done the right thing to take on his mother’s name, but he’s still a bastard.”

“Yeah, he’s still a son of a murderer.”

(breath and beat stilled: is this what he thinks of his heritage? shame, disgust, hatred? but an Uchiha was more than that. he was more than that. his family, his wife, his children were more than that.) “Imagine growing up with a blood-thirsty, abusive, good-for-nothing – ”

“Nezumi-san, Neko-san, Tori-san.”

The three jumped at the small shadow that materialized in front of them. His face bare of the mask, yet with the stark-white face, even from a distance, Sasuke could see the fury in his son’s gaze.

“I would appreciate if you stop talking shit,” Sasuke had never heard his son curse, and he had never heard of him being disrespectful to his seniors. “while I’m awake.” “And yeah, brat? What? You’d go tattle-tale to your dad?” The child might have disobeyed his direct orders, but in his surprise, this stopped Sasuke from casting a painful genjutsu when he recognized the gentle spike of chakra in one’s fist. No matter how he looked so much like him, he knew that his temper resembled his mother more.   And yet... “Nezumi-san,” The soft voice was calm, deadly and almost eerie. “I believe that as your current medic, it's for my duty to ensure that you return back to Konoha alive. “

Judging from their rigid stances, and the way their hands were almost reaching for their blades, they were definitely eager for a fight.

“Are you threathen–”

"Neko-san, I believe you need to rest?"

There was a sudden breeze, rustling the trampled grasses on their feet, before a man slumped unconscious on the floor. The child in front of them was out of their sight for a second, before reappearing at their backs within a second.

Both of the transgressors slightly trembled, judging how their knees almost buckled when the boy cocked his head to the side, and slid his left hand on his pocket, to hide the still glowing fist.

His son – who had always been level-headed in different situations – was picking a battle that would earn him a court-martial for insubordination. And Sumi – the ever obedient boy, the perfect shinobi – was ecstatic in breaking the rules.

Sasuke knew that he must stop this, but – “You insulted me for my whole life, Noshita-san.”

– he couldn’t even move from his perch.

“But don’t you ever dare – ”

“Haruno-kun, I expected better behavior from you.”

The taut atmosphere diffused when his second-in-command appeared in between parties, his hand raised with an ink-stained brush and a blank scroll on his hands.

“Captain!” The cowards exclaimed in relief, as they pointed their sheathed blades to their medic who still held his ready stance. “He dared to – ”

“Return to your tents, Nezumi, Tori.” And no matter how conversational his command was, there was steel in his command that dared them to disobey. “I will deal with his misbehavior, as Haruno-kun is an important member of our team, to ensure our survival.”

The men retreated with mutinous glares at the defiant child over the gaps of their mask, while ivory-tiger mask turned to the boy who calmly stared at the other direction. “Haruno-kun,” Sai began. “it’s not like you to lose your temper.”

The boy didn’t speak.

“An attack to a high-ranking nin is no light matter.” He shook his head, as if trying to extract more information. “I will file a report, and you’ll explain your actions to our commander when we return back to the village.” “No – !”

“Hm?” If he wasn’t mistaken, Sai was almost laughing.

“I-I’ll explain my actions to the Hokage. Suspend me for a few weeks, if you want. Just-just don’t – ”

Sai waited, as he slid his brush back to his front pockets, not rushing the boy, who straightened his spine, and trying to open his mouth and close it, till he blurted out with an embarrassed “Don’t tell Tousan.” (Twenty-eight feet above from ground, with sixty degrees to the right of a two meter radius, Sasuke almost lost his footing.) “Why not?” Sai went on, unaffected, rolling up the weaponized scroll quickly.

And the way his child looks so young, with that disgruntled expression, at how he mimicked his stubborn stance –

“He’ll probably get the wrong idea.” The boy finally relaxed enough to let his arms hang from his sides. Sai gave a wry chuckle. “But I still have to explain to a superior on why,” He picked up the snoring lump with an easy lift. “you made an ANBU trainee sleep.” “He’s stupid enough to fall into a trap?” “That will not work, Haruno-kun.” “He is, though, Jii-san.” “I think you caused enough trouble to last for a month.”

In reply, Sai reached out to ruffle his hair. “Not that!” Sumi ducked, and went out of his range with a quick flash step.   “We’ll stop by the sweets shop,” This earned him a bright smile from his son, which stung Sasuke in such an acute way that the bark beneath his hand almost crackled. “if you return to sleep, now.” “Fine, I’m going to sleep. Don’t tell – ” “I won’t.”

When Sumi leaped out to run towards his side of the camp, the white-mask of a Snake in turn came in a rustle of leaves beside the Tiger.   “Yes?” There was an odd lilt in his voice as they both looked at the shadowed gaps between the trees. “Sir?” Sasuke nodded, as if giving permission to give the three new recruits a dismissal from their respective squads after ‘failing’ a hellish training week before their formal induction to the Force, to the direction of the two trainees who tucked their tails earlier. “Don’t tell.”

(15) 墨 [sumi, ink]

Sumi was silently cleaning the last of his blades when a silhouette fell on his shouji screen.

He promptly opened the door. A brief bow of his head, after a polite yes, chichue? werespoken, and dark eyes met the much darker pair of eyes calmly.

“Ichisumi,” Uchiha-san often called him with the first attached to his name in private, unlike his mother who prefers still calls her son with endearments. “Can I come in?”

It was apparent that whatever brought Uchiha-san to his room was important, and made him nervous, with the stalling signs and furtive glances around his room, as if afraid of intruding his own personal space. But it only lasted for seconds, as Uchiha-san’s gaze returned back to him, blank and stern.

“Here.”

In his hand was a scroll. It was an important document, judging from the red and gold gilding that lined its edges, and the waxed seal that belied the gravity of its contents. He left it on his neat desk, on the empty center. Koseki. A scroll used for family registrations. Like Births. Deaths. Adoptions. Recognizing sons out of wedlock as legal heirs. “Use it as you will.”

Slowly, his hand retreated from the top of the rolled document, to hide in between the sleeves of his dark haori. Uchiha-san stood almost at the wooden margins of his room, observing him as he sat on his chair, composed. =

His son is of legal age, still living his fifteen years of life at its fullest – which is a blessed privilege that most of his colleagues would never receive with their chosen profession.

Sasuke's life was filled with misunderstandings and unsaids :. His father was proud of him. His mother was telling the truth. His brother loved him. He would never ever doubt these truths again, but it was already too late when he learned this. If anything, he wouldn’t let his son doubt the same truths that he holds firmly now. He just want his son to know.

(10)  済 [sumi, settled]

The first time Sumi saw Uchiha-san, he wanted to hurt him.

He want to exact the same amount suffering on him.

The stranger didn’t hear the jeerings, or the gazes of fear in his direction. Or how they called him a good-for-nothing. No matter what the adults told the others, he was still going to be the subject of cruel slanders and pranks. Or how his mother would sadly sit by the windowsill beside his bed, brushing his forehead while pretended to sleep, singing lullabies, trying not to cry.

(he wasn’t there.)

All he knew of the man were from two different sides; it’s either the ones that had glorified him – his father is a hero, a legend, a genius, or the ones that had scorned him – a warmonger, a traitor, a monster. To him, his father was nothing.

(he wasn’t there.) This is why he must speak now, while her mother arranged the rouge and powder on her desk, with the intricate brocade of his grandmother’s uchikake laid on her bed, without her anyone to hear him object. “I hate him, Kaasan.” Sumi expected his mother to be horrified, to tell him that it’s not right to be angry to a man that she’ll marry in a few hours. No matter what he did, Uchiha Sasuke would officially become his father and he absolutely loathed that.

 Instead, he receives a gentle ruffle on his hair, as his mother bent her knees to meet his angry gaze.

“Okay.” “Kaachan, I mean it. I mean, aren’t you angry? He left us...”

“Sumi, It’s not bad to be angry. Even if he’s your father.” Her embrace was warm yet firm, and her chin gently settles on the soft hairs of the top of his head. “I’m still angry at him, you know? Really angry.” “But why are you marrying him? ” She lets the comfortable quiet settle in between them, the one that she loved the most when she reminded herself that she’s no longer alone in waiting before breaking it with a sigh. “I told you before, right? He didn’t mean to leave us. He’s probably sorry about it.” “How do you know? Are you sure, Kaasan?” Her lips tremble as if afraid of saying something, like she was in the verge of telling a safer answer or the more painful truth. As those inquisitive, all-knowing eyes waited, she had made up her mind by the time her fingers cradle his cheek before whispering, “I don’t, Ichisumi.” He recognizes the tears that were almost spilling from her lashes, the same ones when he knew that she hurt so much and he was helpless to do anything.

“You don’t?” The fierce tone from that childish squeak, to his confusion, made his mother giggle on top of his head, before snuggling at his shoulder.

“It’s a risk, Sumi-kun, to give someone a chance.” And his mother’s face was still clear of red tint and white powder, her cheeks now marked with tear stains yet she looked as the prettiest woman he had ever seen. “But I love your Tousan, that’s why. But I’m not saying that you have to love him back, or even forgive him for what he did to us. And that’s alright.” “Then,” His brows knitted in concentration, before making a decision. “I won’t.” “Thank you.” His mother planted a soft kiss on his brow. “All I want is for you to be honest.”

= It’s difficult to be angry with someone, when you learn the truth behind the stories. When they once whisper that you remind me of him, he would seethe at the mere comparison. He was not going to become like him. Yet here he is, taking the dark cup of rice wine from pale fingers, inclining a respectful nod to you in acknowledgement, and you suddenly realizes that they had something in common - when his mother smiled with a rare, happy laugh with a simple soft compliment about her hair. (the first thing he learns about his father: he’s a kind man.)

(16) 「私生児」 - しせいじ (shiseiji) illegitimate child

 “I heard that in the next match, it’s going to be Sakura-san’s son.” “They could have prepared for the ground to be extra thicker? He’ll surely demolish the stage again.” “I remember that perfect undetectable paralyzing poison that he aimed in the – “ In every qualification match held for the rank examinations, one of the favored candidates would be Sumi, as he gained his reputation in the nations as a excellent combat medic. Sasuke had watched them once, alone, at the top boxes, when his son has won his place as a chuunin, watching the name Haruno Ichisumi 「春野  一隅」flash in the screens. It’s unusual for Sakura to take a day-off when the Jounin festivities was coming near, as there are random casualties that occur from escalating country rivalries. But when he realized that both of her and Yamanaka are carrying front seat tickets in the stadium, he knew that he was going to see his son fight again. The first three matches were over, and the dust finally settled down for the next one. He could see his son wearing the customary flack jacket over his dark uniform, yet there was something odd on his current outfit he couldn’t place. “Gloves.” Sasuke states. “He’s not wearing something for his fist.”

“What is that brat thinking?” The kid’s aunt rounded on Sakura’s other side. “His opponent, a puppeteer, is an long-distance expert! If he doesn’t make any boulders to hide in or make some obstructions –  eh, Sakura? You’re grinning, but this is a time for panic, not that I don’t believe in Sumi or anything but – ” “You,” His wife pointed at her best friend. “are going to treat my son for his victory.” “What?” Instead of deeming Yamanaka with a reply, Sakura grabbed Sasuke’s hand and gave it with a firm squeeze. “Watch.”

 = The participants stood at the opposing sides of the referee, both ready to start by the time that the hand sweeps in between them. A second later, the battle starts. Everyone expected for the first offensive move to come from the puppeteer, and it’ll be dodged just as quickly, before closing in for a one-shot hit, powerful enough to destroy the surroundings and giving the young man an ample opportunity to shatter the Suna-nin's defense. What the audience of the Jounin qualifications saw was this: - Sumi disappears in one step, before a barrage of knives and needles rained upon the surprised Suna nin. - In retaliation, the opponent tries to counter the sudden attack with a well-timed substitution, by which his escape was narrowed by a sudden windmill shuriken that blocked his path.

- He then formed a fist to concentrate in pulling his chakra strings in order to manipulate the three puppet weapons beside him. - Instead, he could not move his joints – from the crook of his elbows to the tips of fingers – as they were now all wrapped with tight wires. - The word Katon echoed like thunder all throughout the stadium, its huge searing flames blazing bright in midday.

- In forty-five seconds flat, Sumi had his enemy cleared of any weapons by turning all of his wooden dolls into ash. Sumi dropped to his feet beside the referee, sullenly looking at Inuzuka-sensei who still gaped at the participant who had barely moved ten meters from his starting point, stunned. “And, the winner...The winner is...” “Not yet, bastard!” (for sumi, that insult was a stigma in all his life. a mere bastard. someone who’ll become nothing.) “Yeah,” He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “I am.” In one beat, the world becomes sharp, clear and red. = "The winner is --" His son is standing with his back to him, spine ramrod straight. . It's odd that Sasuke feels like a child again waiting before the new dawn, cupping a piece of sleeping warm coal, eager to see the first flame to thrum in his hands. He flares his eyes. Sasuke waits for the call of his son's name. = In the fourth match of the 47th Qualifying Jounin Examination Finals for the Golden Uzumaki Era, they passed one of the youngest jounin in the Five Nation. The Qualification Seal was signed to be given to : 「 うちは 一炭 」 "Uchiha Ichisumi" 一炭 [ichisumi, first coal]  Their first child is born a bastard due to mostly dumb reasons. The little boy wasn't the result of a drunken one night stand, there was no trouble finding Sasuke and telling him about the pregnancy, and almost everyone was supportive of them starting a family together. No. Naruto's voice rings "Bastard! Bastard!" every time Sasuke looks at his son because— requested by (x)

[sasusaku-headcanons]

Are all of your fics rated below T or are some of them M and you label which ones they are?

Hello! Most of the fics are implied to have a rating of T+ (since Naruto is probably aimed for teens, so it’s generally in that rating) If the fics are rated M, they are either rated at the title, or already posted before the Read More cut.

[sasusaku-headcanons]

44. but still, i rise

She couldn't help laugh at the exasperated groan that came from the living room. When Sakura lays on their bed that night, their limbs sprawled and relaxed, she makes sure that her hands are not entangled, or activate her chakra too much === Why do you need to know? He cuts her with a stern glare. There's nothing you can do. Sakura recoils in response - proud head bowed, defiant eyes lowered, tight fist on her chest. his words stabs her deeply than the slow burn of a healing wound on her belly. exhaustion and terror are already taking its toll on her psyche, and she couldn't help but resent that bud of hope, that maybe, maybe sasuke did care for her - he didn't even need to answer her feelings that she wanted him to. Sakura just wanted to matter to him. But even after all the years, of painstakingly gaining strength to stand beside him in the battlefield, she knows that he still finds her lacking - either in skill or character. But Sakura's too tired to ask why, why i'm not enough? I told you, the three year-old words echoed in her mind again, pinpricks of insecurities wounding her battered esteem, I don't need your help. Sasuke had always hated her, but out of kindness (cruelty), he couldn't outright speak out the truth. This is why she's the only one who knew that everything was a lie - a black and white specter over this colorful utopia. === They watch the crescent moon rise, huddling together on the bench for warmth.  Sasuke smiles. Sakura couldn't return it. He asks, What's wrong? She wanted to say Everything. === They often told her that she was weak. Sakura didn't blame them; as she lived to watch this world day by day watching Sasuke-kun tell her stories about his family, of his misadventures with his best friend across countries. Ino visits her every Fridays while Mikoto-san helps her with housework every Sundays. Her husband accompanies her to the hospital before and after work. He prepares their meals at dinner. He holds her close at night and mornings. Sasuke-kun didn't leave her. ["-ake up!"]      But, there it was, as she let the fifth day pass, and realized that, No. This is not, this is not what she want now. No matter how beautiful this is. "No." Her fingers tremble, forming a glowing scalpel to cut through the thick illusion  - === (sakura, he whispers, i love you wit--) ["Sakura! Wake---"] === And, she nearly swallows her tears, along with the damning word - (--my heart) "RELEASE!" ["--Up!"] xxxx Sakura faces the goddess, with Her lidless eyes and terrible beauty, while the fruits (her loved ones, they are alive, and yet she felt heartless of waking them up) fall from the tree, one by one. She knows that Sasuke-kun and Naruto are out there, hands outstretched, ready to cut down the tree, returning it back to earth. "I don't understand", the fury in the Her voice trembled as its claws reached for her, "You shouldn't wake up". "But I did", she gasped, her breaths harsh, can still taste the dirt and tears that had run down her face. The skies are slowly devoured by lightning and winds, screening the lying moon away from the eyes of the rousing people underneath them. "You had the simplest dream to fulfill." [my dream is...]  "It was easy." Easy, yes, it is. Simple enough for her to forget all the injuries and belittling that she had came across. An easy choice to let herself fall to that blissful domesticated life. What her dream had been when she was a girl who had always been ignorant of war and strife. The apparitions flash before her, the sight of Sasuke laughing giving her courage. (She fails to notice that the tree leaves that had surrounded her body were cleanly cut with a blade.) "That's not my dream. In that world, I wasn't me." Waves of chakra disrupted the bitter traces of the false memories on her mind, cresting over her body in different lengths as she clearly knows where she is. "You don't know me. What I want is--" "Sakura." A rush of wind, and she can feel the heat of flames and lightning all at once, he grabs her elbow as they avoid the whip of Her sleeve that had burst into a myriad of spikes. His hold tightens, as he gazes at the thin thread of daybreak over the horizon.   In that world, she didn't need Ino or Tsunade. She didn't need the urge to strive hard, to become more than what she is. In that world, she didn't need to bleed, to stand up. In that world, Sakura didn't know loss. In that world, Sasuke isn't the Sasuke who liberated her. In that world, Sakura didn't know how to fight. "Took you long enough." And with the proud smirk on his face, as she almost didn't hear Naruto's protest of stop acting cool, teme!, an almost faded memory rises through her mind. Reminding her why this imperfect, painful world was worth it. "Stand here." [You noticed it, right?] Sakura falls into her place, right beside him. (-- i want to be his equal.)

Only equals fall in love. The rest fall in something else -Maya Angelou

[sasusaku-headcanons]

[hosts_for_relief] SIGNAL BOOST!

Example:

Author/Artist name: Mc What will you do: Fic Fandom for: Naruto, SnK, Rurouni Kenshin Universe: Canon or Alternative (AU) [or BOTH] Pairing/Characters:  Any limits (if any) peeves: e.g. not willing to do NC 17+ stuff, only short drabbles, cannot write BL Willing to do how many requests? three requests. *Please know your limitations. Make sure that you can fill up the number of request. If unable to fulfill the request within the specified time, kindly notify us ASAP to inform the requester.   3.The list of participants will be posted soon, so you can already donate & ask for requests. More details will be sent to your contact e-mail.  TO REQUEST:  1.  Help by : a. Donate to these following charities:  INTERNATIONAL RED CROSS  DOCTORS WITHOUT BORDERS  PHILIPPINE RED CROSS  http://ushare.redcross.org.ph/  http://www.redcross.org.ph/donate GMA  ABS-CBN  OTHERS:  List from Huffington Post  List from Wunderground.com  Screenshot your transaction slip. b. If you're going to send necessities, send us your copy of carrier receipt (or if you donated to your local Red Cross, or other places, picture of your donations with the place you're going to drop it. 

Visit this post for the list of things that you could donate and drop off points.

c. If you're from the unaffected areas in the Philippines, like NCR, and you're a volunteer from different relief operations like Sagip Kapamilya, GMA, IskoOps, or any organization that are currently providing relief. This also applies to internationally :D  Submit a picture (A selfie! Don't worry we'll keep it secret) with your fellow volunteer, and specify the organization that you worked with. :D 2. Along with the proof of donation sent to the submission box, or [email protected], please specify the following information  Donor name/penname:  Your request/theme/prompt: Your requested author/artist: 3. Once you submit your request, we'll contact you once your prompt is finished. Requests will close on December 20, 2013. And your requests will be posted daily on this site starting from December 25 to January 25, 2013. Strictly 1 donation/1 volunteer work proof = 1 request. Remember, any amount of donation is fine. It's the thought that counts.  Thank you very much! :)

[sasusaku-headcanons]

[hosts_for_relief] List of Relief Goods Needed and Drop Off Points

List of Relief Good Needed: Bottled Water Canned Goods Food in Pouch (like Ulalam) Crackers Biscuits Candles Match/Lighter Toiletries: Shampoo Bath Soap  Toothpaste Toothbrush Sanitary Pads/Diapers Banig (woven mat) nylon Tarp (9x12) Medicine and Medical Supplies

1. Oral Rehydration Salts (packets) 2. Paracetamol 500 mg/tab 125 mg/ 5mL suspension 100 mg solution Surgical/First Aid/Trauma Needs: 1. Sterile Gauze  Micropore tape/Leukoplast (1"/2") 2. Surgical Sutures (Vicryl 2-0/ 4-0) 3. Tetanus Toxoid and Anti-Tetanus Serum ( Te Ana/ ATS) vaccines 4. 5mL syringe 5. 1mL syringe 6. clean gloves 7. sterile gloves

Medicines Antibiotics : 1. Amoxicillin 500 MG Capsule 250 mg/5mL Suspension 125 mg/5mL Suspension 2. Co-Amoxiclav (Amoxicillin-Clavulanic Acid) 875 mg/ 125 mg/cap 500 mg/ 125 mg/cap 250 mg/ 62.5 mg/ 5mL- suspension 125 mg/ 31.25 mg/ 5mL - suspension 3. Cephalexin 500 mg/cap 250 mg/ 5mL suspension 125 mg/ 5mL suspension 4. Doxycycline 100 mg/ cap 50 mg/5 mL 5. Metonidazole 500mg/cap 6. Clindamycin 300 mg/cap 75 mg/5mL 7. Cotrimoxazole (160mg/800mg) tab (400mg/200mg)/ 5 mL You can also send these to the following organizations: GMA Kapuso Foundation 2nd Floor Kapuso Center, GMA Network Drive corner Samar Streets, Diliman, Quezon City Tel no. ([phone] / ([phone] GMA Kapuso Foundation Warehouse #366 GMA Compound  Tandang Sora Avenue Brgy. Culiat, Quezon City Tel no. ([phone] ABS-CBN (Sagip Kapamilya) Drop off points Luzon 13 Examiner St., West Triangle, QC Telephone Number: ([phone]

Visayas  ABS-CBN CEBU,  North Road Jagobiao, Mandaue City ABS-CBN Bacolod,  26 Lacson St., Barangay 1, Bacolod City ABS-CBN Iloilo,  Luna St., La Paz, Iloilo City Mindanao  ABS-CBN Cagayan de Oro,  Greenhills Road, Bulua, Cagayan de Oro City ABS-CBN Davao,  Broadcast Avenue, Shrine Hills, Matina, Davao City * For confirmation of donation, please fax [phone] or email [email protected] the copy of transmittal/ transaction slip with complete donor's information. PHILIPPINE RED CROSS Email us: [email protected] 1. Send a letter of intent to donate to the PRC. 2. A letter of acceptance from PRC shall be sent back to the donor. 3. Immediately after shipping the goods, please send the (a) original Deed of Donation, (b) copy of packing list and (c) original Airway Bill for air shipments or Bill of Lading for sea shipments to Philippine Red Cross -  NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS c/o Secretary General Gwendolyn Pang Bonifacio Drive, Port Area, Manila, 1018, Philippines Email: [email protected] Call Hotline 143 or  (+632) 527.0000

[sasusaku-headcanons]

We conclude the sasusaku month with lots of thank you and hugs to:

prompts provided:

arabesque05 (01)|(02)
 || fiamontague (13)
  shei || adg || miko

authors:

callistamiralni ♦ white-epitome 
 ♦ sakura’s unicorn 
♦ agentmercury 
 ♦ sapphire snowflake ♦ 
asha3 ♦  cutecrazyice ♦ arabesque05 ♦ scrypturient ♦ furubasutas ♦ fiamontague ♦ kaze and kiba ♦ arigatou-sasusaku ♦ 
joy-girl ♦ sincerelylen ♦ 
the.terrorist ♦ 
smakn ♦ 
reviee 
♦ ghostofyou2 
♦ ohwhatsherface

(compiled submissions: here)

graphics:

» jeanizaheichou 
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white-plum » jammy-peeta

There are many things we would like to be thankful for, especially to those who signed-up/persuaded/gave ideas/fangirled with us for the SSM. :D you know who you are, and you will always be welcome in flooding our inbox w/ your requests. :))

For the meantime, we'll be having a short hiatus for sshc, as we will focus on finishing some piled-up requests in sasusaku-alternatereality. The ask box and submission box for sshc are still open, but we'll be returning once we manage to post a few AUs.

[sasusaku-headcanons]

31. we're here, where the daylight begins [T]

Sasuke, Sakura, and their lives as footnotes to the world. Their roles in a myth or influences in history.

i.

Don’t go out at night, the parents of the village hidden in the leaves will say, for if you do, The Uchiha will snatch you in the dark and take you away. They never specify which Uchiha, but the elder generations of Konoha know just which ones to fear.

To where? the children will ask curiously.

But the parents will only smile grimly and glance out the window. And when the children do so too, they soon avert their eyes for fear of the blood red of the Sharingan possibly looking back at them.

- - -

Sakura knows better than to expect that anyone could truly ever hold Sasuke, so when she sees him leisurely strolling through the streets of Konoha in a drab black cloak, clearly headed for the village gates, she steps into the moonlight to reveal herself and lets him walk by her.

“This again?” she whispers, mostly to herself.

Sasuke’s footsteps stop. He doesn’t turn around to face her, but his stopping is enough for her to realize that he expects something.

“I’m not going to try stopping you,” Sakura states. She sounds breathless. Her stance is loose. She has no intention of preventing Sasuke from his inevitable and much too easy escape from Konoha’s detainment for his near total destruction of the entire shinobi world. “But… please don’t do this. Please.” She sighs. “Don’t make things harder for yourself. For Naruto. For Kakashi-sensei.”

“For you?”

She almost flinches.

He turns ever so slightly, mostly peering at her from the corner of his eyes, and it’s enough to make Sakura curl into herself. Inside her rages, furious with the pitiful little girl she’s becoming all over again, but she can’t help it. Again, she sighs.

“Why are you leaving?” she asks, her desperation leaking out. “Kakashi-sensei is the Hokage now! You know he’s doing everything he can to help you. Why are you—”

And suddenly, he is behind her, and it’s four years all over again.

Logically, she should know better.

He’s going for the neck, she tells herself. He’s done it before. Twice before. Move. Move. Move. But she doesn’t – she can’t. Sakura is frozen and she can feel is warm breath on her neck, searing her, branding.

“Let me tell you a story,” Sasuke says. He almost sounds sweet, but there’s a hint of bitterness to his voice as his hand creeps along her shoulder to her neck to the side of her face to gently turn her head. She meets his eyes briefly and that’s just enough for him to pull her into his world, his mind, his memories.

That night, Sakura finally accepts why Sasuke just can’t be in Konoha.

That night, Sasuke finally takes her with him.

ii.

There is village in southeast Tea Country that speaks of the sudden but brief appearance of a kind, nurturing woman that the children called an angel and the adults called a blessing. She’s remembered for her unnatural skills of healing, her lovely pink hair, and the dark-haired protector that followed her every step.

- - -

On the road, they become friends.

Sasuke, as luck would have it, is pleasant company on the road.

He speaks very little but he certainly takes in everything. His sentences are short and to the point and limited mostly to brief responses to her lengthy stories.

And sometimes he even asks her questions.

In exchange for a ride from a farmer with his horses and cart, Sakura offers to heal the man’s wrapped leg. An accident with some tools, he explains, that was poorly dealt with.

When they find themselves seated between bales of hay following Sakura’s easy mending, Sasuke can’t help himself.

“When did you begin your medical training?” he asks.

Sakura blinks, almost astonished by the question. “Huh?” Then she flushes slightly and clears her throat. “Er, well…” She shrugs. “Maybe a few months after you left?”

“Were you alone?”

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Did you train alone?”

“Well…” Sakura shrugs as she trails off. “Shizune-neechan was there too. She taught me a lot of things. She’s an incredible chemist and a poisons master. And then maybe six months after I started my medical training, Ino started too.”

“I see.”

And then the next day: “When did you do the Chuunin Exams?”

“Um,” Sakura begins, thinking. “Well, I competed in the ones the year after we did them.”

“Where?”

“Stone.”

“Who were your teammates?”

“Ino and Chouji – hey, what’s with all the questions?”

“Tch, don’t be stupid.”

And the day after: “What have you been up to these past few years?”

This one catches her off guard with its frustrating vagueness. “Huh?”

The scowl marring his face makes her wary. “You heard me.”

“But I didn’t understand you.”

He snorts snidely and to Sakura, it’s like he’s a little genin in the midst of a childish squabble with Naruto all over again.

“What have I been up to…” she drawls, thinking. She shrugs. “I don’t know. A lot of training, I guess. I was usually only ever with Ino and Lee-san.” She sees the way he stiffens at the latter name and finally understands his questioning. “Oh. Oh.” Unable to help herself, Sakura grins.

Her smile immediately puts Sasuke on the defence, and she sees him prepare some sort of snide remark to keep her at arm’s length, so she’s quick to clear the air:

“It’s always been you,” she says bluntly, clearly, looking straight into his eyes to make sure he knows that she’s serious. “I’ve been training because all I’ve ever wanted to do was help you – to make you happy.”

He nods and they continue along the way.

- - -

On the road, they slowly get to know each other once again, but on the day Sakura makes it clear that she’s sick of wandering and wants to settle down somewhere, they become Hana, a travelling healer, and Satoshi, her odd job taking companion. They find a medium-sized village in the southeast end of Tea Country that, luckily enough, has been untouched by the Fourth Shinobi War.

Still, the people there suffered their own ailments, so despite their initial distrust for outsiders, Sakura’s warm personality and healing hands immediately win them over. The doctor in charge of the clinic immediately hires Sakura and leases the loft above the place to her and Sasuke.

“Home sweet home,” Sakura says idly, dropping her backpack with a dull thud. She glances over at Sasuke and finds him still examining their new living space – particularly the one bedroom with one bed.

They’ve shared beds before, naturally, back in their genin days, even more recently in their wandering days. But those nights always had a notion of temporariness attached to them. This is much more permanent.

Sensing what she can only perceive as unease, Sakura smiles at Sasuke and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We can just share,” she suggests, “for now.”

“Aa.” He stares back at her intensely. “For now.”

But they never discuss the prospect of getting another bed or looking for a bigger apartment. Instead, they adapt.

Slowly, Sakura gets used to the fact that Sasuke tosses around at night, clearly plagued by nightmares. Sometimes she gathers him into her arms, gently but firmly to make sure he doesn’t hurt her or himself with a flailing limb, and simply holds him. She whispers soothing words and hums lowly until, finally, his thrashing stops and he falls into a semblance of restful sleep, his arms twisted around her.

Likewise, Sasuke learns to fall asleep with the lamp on because Sakura likes to read before going to bed, no matter how late it may be. He opts for wearing a shirt and pants as opposed to a simple pair of boxers because despite her claims that she certainly is not, Sakura is a terrible blanket hog. And he learns to skirt around her in the morning and let the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wake her, because Sakura is never kind to the person that dares wake her in the morning.

They get used to each other.

Sakura simply brushes off the way Sasuke will, without thinking, wrap his arms around her at night and hold her like a vice, while he begins to expect the smell of lavender tickling his nose come morning.

They never bring up the bed situation again.

- - -

They have rituals.

Sakura wakes up to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of pots and pans clanging. She tries not to be annoyed by the unwanted wakeup, but is grateful that Sasuke cooks them breakfast. They eat in comfortable silence, Sakura guzzling her coffee and Sasuke sipping his tea, until, finally, Sasuke says goodbye and heads downstairs to work.

Sasuke, without some sort of defined skill like Sakura’s, takes to odd jobs around the village, some days fishing, some days building, some days hunting. Naturally, he’s proficient at all tasks and is well-received by the villagers.

They fit in.

- - -

And one night, their night time rituals still occur despite their wakefulness.

They had both stumbled into bed, exhausted, nearly an hour ago, and now Sakura faces the window, her eyes trained on the line the moonlight cuts into the room. She stays still, caged within Sasuke’s strong arms, his face buried in her neck.

What are we doing? she wonders.

She wonders this every night, also wondering how long it will last, why it’s even happening, and when, just when is she going to feel the repercussions for these decisions she’s making?

She feels him inhale.

“What are we doing?” she  decides to ask. He doesn’t answer, but the tightening of her grip tells her he’s heard her, so she turns over to look at him directly. “Sasuke?” she whispers.

He looks troubled. “What?”

“Why did you bring me with you?”

Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t break eye contact. He doesn’t say anything immediately, opting to take her left hand and hold it between his own.

She can see it is in his eyes: I don’t want to be alone anymore. Not anymore. I’m tired of running – tired of running from you.

So Sakura smiles. Shyly, tentatively, she leans forward and presses her lips against his. It’s more chaste than seductive, but it’s enough for Sasuke to let go of her hand and run a hand through her hair, holding her close to him.

In the village, they become lovers.

iii.

A famous poem was written nearly a century ago based on a painting of a fair maiden being stolen away by a demon. The artist behind the painting has never been revealed, but his work has inspired many. In this particular one, the fair maiden is seduced by the demon, making the apparent kidnapping a consensual thing. She abandons her duties and follows the demon into the wilderness, but when her family realizes what has happened, they venture into the forest and rescue her.

- - -

They are trained shinobi who can recognize scouts when they see them, so there’s absolutely no surprise when, in her daily stroll through the forest and towards the coast, Sakura is met by the mask of a lion, covered slightly by a hood.

“Haruno Sakura.” Her name is muffled behind the slab of porcelain.

“No,” she’s quick to deny. “You are mistaken. You may call me Koizumi Hana.”

The man with the lion mask tilts his head ever so slightly, challenging her, but Sakura is not moved.

Finally, he relents. “Indeed. My apologies.”

This is only the beginning.

- - -

The man with the lion mask follows her back into the village with little to no subtlety.

He follows her to the market, to the tool store, to work.

- - -

Sakura keeps the encounter to herself until the man with the lion mask returns, this time more audacious.

He wears a disguise that reeks of genjutsu and enters the clinic, apparently in need of assistance. He does what he can to gain some sort of private audience with Sakura, but his attempts are all thwarted. Sakura patches up his shallow self-inflicted wound and sends him on his way.

Still, he reappears after closing when Sasuke is, luckily enough, out of town working.

“The Hokage-sama declared you dead two years ago,” the man with the lion mask tells her. “Yet here you are.”

She holds her chin up defiantly. “Here I am.”

“As I am sure you are aware, as a loyal shinobi of the Hidden Leaf Village, I am bound by honour to report my sightings of you, Haruno Sakura.”

“I am.”

“But I am sure you are also aware, as a loyal friend of yours, I would never do such a thing.”

She can’t help it – her legs go out from under, but the man with the lion mask is quick to catch her, supporting her fragile form. Sakura clings to him, grateful and relieved, whispering her thanks over and over until finally they remember themselves at the man with the lion mask lets go of her.

He takes a step back and seems to be observing her from behind his mask of the lion. “You look much less hag-like from when I last saw you. In fact, you appear to be glowing.” She can hear his smile. “I take it that whatever fool you disappeared for is making you happy?”

“Very.”

That appears to be enough, so the man with the lion mask nods.

“Farewell, Koizumi Hana.”

- - -

Despite Sakura’s assurances that Sai would never betray her, Sasuke is eager to abandon the home they’ve had for the past few years for the sake of their safety.

Naturally, Sakura is quick to follow.

iv.

Although the perspective seems entirely archaic, many believe that a ninja village is considered only as strong as the clans that inhabit it.

Mixed responses come the day the Ninth Hokage expresses his regret over the extinction of the Uchiha clan and the Sharingan, ranging from utter outrage to a shared remembrance for that long lost glory.

- - -

Dramatics aside, Sasuke never outright states that he’ll never return to Konoha. He doesn’t have to. Sakura simply knows.

Even when Naruto becomes Hokage and Uchiha Itachi’s struggles are revealed and Uchiha Sasuke is pardoned, Sasuke is quite clear on his utter distaste for the place he once called home.

They’ve spent the past year travelling between the safe houses and compounds that once belonged to the Uchiha clan. Surprisingly enough, they weren’t as attached to the home they first shared together, but Sakura supposes that’s because they’ve come to learn that home is not a physical space.

But this needs to end.

Sakura is twenty-six and long ago she remembers how she would have blindly followed Sasuke to ends of the earth because she loved him. She still does and maybe she still would, but he isn’t her priority anymore.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Sakura tells him one night. They’re in one of many Uchiha strongholds, this one located in the east end of Fire Country along the coastline.

She eyes Sasuke, king of the ashes, possessor of riches and glory but reduced to hiding away so that he may live in some semblance of peace.

“I’ve followed you for years,” she says. “And I would follow you forever, I’m sure, but it’s not just about you and me anymore.”

Her hands fold in front of her lower abdomen and Sasuke’s Sharingan follows the movement.

He’s speechless.

“I know we’ve never had this talk,” Sakura acknowledges almost exasperatedly. It’s been the two of them for nearly a decade and never have they ever truly addressed their future. They’ve discussed the immediate few months, but never something so far and permanent as starting a family or what sort of things they’d like to grow in their garden when they grow old together. Sakura’s a complete loss as to where his mind is going, so she takes his hands in hers and holds him like a lifeline. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” he repeats. Then he laughs. He laughs a fully belly laugh and his eyes almost water. He grins, beams, and this is the happiest Sakura swears she’s ever seen him.

He grabs her and holds her tightly, pressing her body flush against him.

“I assure you,” he begins, “that I am anything but mad.”

- - -

So they flee as far as they can to protect their child.

They decide that they will keep him away from the life of the shinobi, from the possibility of the Sharingan, and the infamy attached to his heritage so that he can live a happy and safe life without the risk of being detected and desired by any of the shinobi nations.

They run away and leave nothing behind but their names and their influences until they become mere footnotes to the world. -- ohwhatsherface 

[sasusaku-headcanons]

30. warmth [T]

Lover’s Quarrel - Robert Browning

As Sasuke lied in bed he thought about training, about jutsus. He thought about how many times he sparred with Naruto that day—ten—how many times he won—four—how many times he lost—three. He thought about how many targets there were—fifteen—how many kunai he brought with him—twenty-two—how many shuriken—twenty-five. He sighed. Training. Sasuke only wanted to think about training, would only let himself think about training—because if he didn’t, his mind would begin to wander, drift until he’d be forced to think of pink, to think of green, to think of tears.

I just don't understand what it is about me that makes it so easy for you to leave.

Sasuke closed his eyes. He would be forced to remember how much he missed not only Sakura but her warmth and her touch, touch that set fire to his brain and sent electricity through his veins; forced to remember that her “I love you’s” were no longer just embedded in his mind but in his skin; forced to remember how after he left for his apartment, left her to wake up alone, everything seemed quieter, emptier, lonelier. But it didn’t matter how hard he tried to forget about what happened, he felt miserable. Sasuke would remember, and then he’d feel cold, colder than he’s felt in a long time.

“Have you tried apologizing?” Naruto asked once after sparring. Sasuke turned to him and nodded, explaining how they bumped into each other weeks after it happened, how she didn’t want to hear it, how she never even said his name. Sasuke expected Naruto to understand, or at least to sympathize, but Naruto merely shook his head. “You’re obviously not trying hard enough, Sasuke.”

And he was right. Sasuke wasn’t trying hard enough. So he sought her out, roaming through the streets of Konoha, asking anyone and everyone if they had seen her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry. He wanted to tell her that leaving her only seemed easy, that he left because he was a coward, because he couldn’t face her. He wanted to tell her that if he knew things were going to be like this he wouldn’t have left in the first place—because it wasn’t easy, because she plagued his thoughts, because she lingered.

But when he finally found Sakura just leaving the hospital and blocked her way so she couldn’t avoid him, his mind went blank, all his planning for naught.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Sakura,” Sasuke finally said to her, fully aware of how weak it sounded, wanting to punch something because he knew she deserved better than that, “I shouldn’t have left, not the way I did.” However, Sakura merely stared at him. He sighed. “But you should know,” he said, trying again, “it wasn’t easy—to leave, I mean.”

There was an awkward pause as Sakura let his words sink in. She shrugged. “Okay,” she said, her expression still blank, “I forgive you.” She placed a hand on Sasuke’s arm, but it was only to move him out of her way.

“Wait,” he said, stopping her before she could pass, “where are you going?”

“Where else? I’m going home.”

“So, that’s it?”

Sakura looked at him wearily. “I just told you I forgive you,” she said, her eyes not matching her words, “What more do you want?”

Sasuke stared at her and sighed. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, moving out of her way, watching as her figure recede into the horizon until he couldn’t see her any longer. But he lied. He did know. He wanted to stop feeling so cold.

There was a knock on the door.

Sasuke sat up and looked at the clock. It was just past midnight. It was odd, but technically it wasn’t too late, not by a shinobi’s standards. It was possible that someone came to see him, but as he looked out the window he saw that it was still raining, the wind howling as it shook the window frame. Sasuke lied back down, figuring he must have been imagining things. However, after a few minutes, the knocking resumed, more insistent this time.

Huffing, Sasuke got out of bed and walked to the door, wondering what could be so important that someone had to see him on a night like this. But when he opened it, his eyes widened. “Sakura,” he whispered, shocked.

She was soaked, dripping as she stared at him with an expression that mirrored his own, as if she herself was surprised. “I,” she said, “I don’t know why I’m here. I just—” Sakura closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. “I just don’t get it. I should hate you. I want to hate you. But I can’t. I thought I was close, and then you suddenly show up at the hospital out of nowhere and apologize. And what was I supposed to do? I didn’t even know what to think. I told myself that I acted that way because I was still angry with you, but really, I was just angry with myself—because no matter what you do, I can’t stop. I’m still—I’m still in love with you, Sasuke-kun.”

Sakura felt a lump grow in her throat. “But I’m just so tired,” she said, her voice strained, feeling the tears begin to well in her eyes, “I’m so tired of crying over you. I’m so—“ She covered her face with her hand. The rain may have hid her tears but it did nothing for her cheeks, flushed. “Just forget it. This was stupid. I shouldn’t have—What are you doing? Sasuke-kun! I’m soaking—“

But he didn’t care, holding Sakura tightly as she shivered in his embrace, whispering comforting words into her ear. And even when Sasuke felt the ice-cold water seep through his clothes and touch his skin, he still felt warm. Because the warmth he craved didn’t refer to body heat. Because it was Sakura herself. Because she still loved him.

Because she said his name.

- ghostofyou (ff)(tmblr) *this entry is a sequel to this fic

[sasusaku-headcanons]

29. i let it fall, my heart [T]

Madara is winning, which meant the end of the world. The moon is changing into the shades of red and black pinwheels, And only a few remain standing. Sasuke knows that the world is ending, and (on whatever side he is - depends on the author) was compelled to look for something in the field. A pair of confused green eyes, looks at him across.

i.

Sasuke's memory is visual: not at all surprising, for the son of a clan famed for their eyes. However many Sharingan Kakashi or Orochimaru or Danzo steal, their veins do not run with Uchiha blood. It isn't about genjutsu, and it isn't about bloodline limits. What use is falcon sight to a mole, after all? They hadn't been brought up with twelve words for blue; they see the arc of a kunai and think about trajectory. Sasuke knows, the way he knows the difference between sky-blue and water-blue and the fox-fire blue of Naruto's eyes--Sasuke knows where the kunai will be. On a galloping horse in crosswinds, at a thousand paces, Sasuke still won't miss his target.

The flipside to this--because all things have a cost--is that Sasuke's memory for sound and smell, for  taste and touch are poor. He remembers the inkstains on his father's fingers, the way his mother's hair never stayed tucked behind her ears. Sasuke does not remember: the feel of calluses in his brother's hand; the melody of his mother's lullaby; the taste of his great-aunt's cooking; the smell of his uncle's pipe; the way his father laughed, fishing a Katon-exhausted Sasuke out of the koi pond.

Sasuke has never regretted his heritage. It is a source of pride for him, a fire in the heart. Still, he thinks, if Izanagi could recall a memory of warmth, what Sunday mornings felt like, tucked in his parent's bed, squirming up next to Itachi who always remained sober-faced, but sometimes deigned to lean in and blow raspberries on Sasuke's stomach--if Izanagi could recall such things, Sasuke would willingly close one eye to the light forever.

ii.

Naruto burned, not the way the fires of the Uchiha burned. Uchiha fire had to be coaxed, a warmth in the stomach set aflame in the heart. It took a patient hand to fan Uchiha fire.

Naruto burned, the way the sun did; effortless, unabashed, far too bright. One could not stare for long without becoming blind. Even when one looked away, the afterimage remained, burned into the corneas. Sasuke's eyes had grown dim by the demands of the Mangekyou, on account of his cursed blood; but his sight had first been compromised by Naruto.

If Naruto too greatly imposed himself on Sasuke's sight, then Sakura--Sakura was a flicker in the periphery. Sakura was a press of desperation along his back, a sob to "please, don't hurt them". Sakura was a cool hand around his wrist, startling against his feverish, new-cursed skin. Sakura was the smell of apples; the breeze of an open hospital window; the stinging pain of a third Chidori. Sakura was the smell of old-fashioned rosewater shampoo, on a moonlit night, the small cold road he meant to take stretched out in front of her.

Sakura was the steadiness of an arm around his shoulder and a hand in his hand, the softness of forest moss under his knees, a voice in his ear telling him, "It's all right. You'll be all right. I'm here."

Sasuke's memories of Sakura are not based on sight. So, of course, he does not remember her very well.

iii.

A blood moon was rising. Sasuke at first thought that the reason for the moon's pinkish glow. But it bled redder, the way the Sharingan bled red. Uchiha colors always ran true, and there was nothing redder than fresh-spilled blood.

"I wonder if the moon desires to hide itself forever from the light," said Madara, soft-spoken and amused, coming up quietly next to Sasuke. "Who then would reflect the sun's glory back to it?"

Sasuke looks at him--this great-uncle, the most famous of his clan. They share some recognizable similarities: in the eyes, of course, but in the set of the mouth as well, a certain wryness; and in their dark hair and pale skin. He's family.

"A lovely lad," muses Madara. He slants Sasuke a look, and there is something of Shisui in that: languid humor, well-satisfied in itself. "The moon, I mean. He must tire of the sun, sometimes, don't you think? "

Sasuke is not well-versed in old creation myths, but he had grown up in a very literate and very well-read household. More than anything, he knows his own heritage, old and proud as it is, one which predates even Konoha. He knows who their dojutsu are named after. He knows Tsukuyomi, who had been second born.

"For two who are of the same flesh and blood," says Sasuke, looking back up at the moon, "the older will always be there. Even if only as an obstacle for the younger to over come." He pauses. His brother has lied to him, and often; but not, thinks Sasuke, about the important things. So he is able to say, voice steady, "That's what older brothers are for."

Madara, too, is of the same flesh as Sasuke, of the same blood. For this reason, Sasuke alone is allowed his sword, is allowed free movement of his limbs--while Kakashi quietly bleeds out next to the still body of Naruto, Sakura crouched over the both of them. There should be others too, thinks Sasuke briefly--but Sasuke's heart is a small one. There is Kakashi and Naruto and Sakura. He has never paid any attention to the others.

"What are they teaching you," says Madara mildly. "The eldest of the three was the Sun-Goddess. A girl, you know." He looks at Sasuke again. After a moment, he says, "No. No, you do know, don't you? Ah--that’s right. You're Itachi's little brother." Something clouds his eyes for a moment. He says, in a different voice, less flushed with victory: "You could pass for mine, really. You look so much like Izuna."

He subsides in melancholy. Sasuke waits patiently. Naruto, he suspects, would not understand: he knows friendship and bonds and choice; but brotherhood is not a choice. Brothers are bound by blood, and by something deeper still: Sasuke had grown up in the same house as Itachi, and had eaten the same food as Itachi, and--sometimes, during thunderstorms--slept in the same bed as Itachi.

Sakura, he suspects, would not understand either: Sakura, who loves too easily and too long. But brothers are not bound by love either--because Sasuke had loved his brother and hated his brother, and it made no difference. It was only that: if Sasuke opened himself up and opened Itachi up, the same blood flowed in their veins. Sasuke was not alone.

Madara is not alive in any strict sense of the word. Even now, there remains a sense of decay about him. But--all the same--Sasuke is of Madara's blood, of Madara's flesh, and there are things owed to family before they are owed to anyone else: one's sword, one's faith, one's loyalty.

"Shall I let you dream first, my boy?" By the kindness in his voice, Madara is perhaps thinking the same thing. "Hot-tempered bunch though we were," says Madara, with a faint smile, "family is family. Do you miss yours, child? Shall I bring them back?"

He turns to face Sasuke fully. The color of his eyes is the same color as Sasuke's eyes, and the same color as the moon above them. Where are the Hokages? Sasuke wonders vaguely. Where are the armies? But everywhere around him is quiet and still--only the foxfire dancing over Naruto's body, the wet rattle of Kakashi's breaths, Sakura's chakra flickering pale as she works.

At the end of the world, as Sasuke has always suspected, the only ones standing are Uchiha.

iv.

The difference, thinks Sasuke, between one cast into exile and one who willingly gave himself up as lost, is that Madara still believes in happiness. So he offers to let Sasuke dream, a kindness sincerely meant.

But things are not about happiness for Sasuke. He does not want to live happily. Sasuke's desires are all rooted in death: to avenge his family, to satisfy their honor, to pay his clansmen every last inch of filial piety he owes for remaining alive. Sasuke has no plans of living long or happily. Sasuke only wants to be able to say to his father afterwards: I have brought no shame to the family.

On a personal level, Sasuke would like a great-uncle, or any family at all, really--even the exhumed dead. But Sasuke, since he was six and crying in the rain, has paid little attention to personal desires. There is duty, and there is death, and those are the two constants of Sasuke's life.

So Sasuke says, "I cannot. Family honor cannot be restored by dreaming."

"Oh, your vengeance, yes." Madara considers him for several moments. "Certainly, Itachi was a clever boy, and he shall be missed; but the rest of the clan--how could they let themselves be slain so easily? Have the Uchiha become so weak? I cannot count it a great loss, if they have grown so soft. What honor is there for those who cannot protect even their own life?" He smiles at Sasuke, and chides him gently, "Honor is the provenance of the strong, child."

No, thinks Sasuke; but there is truth in Madara's words. Uncle Teyaki made senbei his entire life, and Aunt Uruchi had never held a kunai.  Uchiha was no longer a clan of only warriors. They had become policemen, administrators, civilians. Honor was won in battle, and the Uchiha did not go to battle anymore. They stayed at home and kept the peace. Itachi was beloved not because he was such a prodigy, but because he was a throwback--he was a memory of what the Uchiha once were, dangerous, sharp-edged, a harbinger of death.

"I--" says Sasuke. He does not know what else to say.

Madara is still smiling at him, the benign smile of an uncle upon a favored nephew. He reaches out, touches a cold finger against Sasuke's chin. His Sharingan is spinning lazily. "You are very earnest, Sasuke-kun: I had not expected. I have not seen such a clean fire in a long time. Most of us burn rather smokily, you know."

Sasuke almost falters, almost stumbles forward. It is the language of his childhood: his mother, who sometimes called him her "candlefire", for all of Sasuke's protests that he was a lantern flame at least; his father, who sometimes spoke about the unrulier clansmen, shaking his head over the "smoky" ones, who burned like wet wood. Sasuke is devoted to duty, but sometimes memory is a visceral wrench in the gut. Sometimes, hatred falters and grief closes in. Sometimes, Sasuke is tired.

"I--" says Sasuke, again. It isn't that he wants to accept. It is only that he does not want to refuse, just yet. Madara will not stand for refusal, and either Sasuke will have to kill Madara or Madara will kill Sasuke, because that is what Uchiha has come to mean: kinslayer. So, just for a little while, Sasuke would like to not be the only Uchiha in the world. Sasuke would like to have a great-uncle.

Madara looks at him, and--suddenly--it seems only proper for Sasuke to draw back from the Mangekyou: to meet Sharingan with Sharingan. Madara smiles, as if pleased. "Nephew," he says. Sasuke's sword trembles, and then lowers. "Shall I restore to you your family?" Madara asks again.

Uncle, is on the tip of Sasuke's tongue: and he would not have followed it with yes; but it would not have been no either.

Then from across the field, a voice cries with raw-hearted desperation, "Sasuke-kun!"

v.

The foxfire around Naruto has dimmed to wisps, little glows like firebugs in late summer. Sakura, pale in the moonlight (but it is not just the moonlight), turns away from Kakashi and plunges her hands into Naruto's stomach. The chakra around her flickers dangerously, and there is a strained trembling in the set of her jaw, in how she bends over Naruto. She never did have very large reserves, thinks Sasuke.

"It is no use," murmurs Madara. "The spirit is already leaving the body."

Sasuke does not reply. He looks at Sakura, who--practical as ever--is staunching spirit-flow as she would blood-flow, pressing down on chakra pathways as she would on arteries. But her chakra is a faint thing, spent on Kakashi, and she cannot press heavily enough. The fox-demon is drawn to the moon, and Naruto--so entwined with the fox--must follow.

Madara is right. It's no use: Sakura has not the strength, nor the time. There is nothing tethering Naruto's golden soul to his body, not when the fox would leave and the seal on his stomach has already unraveled.

But, thinks Sasuke, but if I--

"Sasuke-kun," says Sakura again. She looks up, even as she leans more heavily onto Naruto. She is not crying, but it is somehow worse for that. "Please," she says. "Please."

(Please, she had said, please don't hurt them. Sasuke's ghosts clamor for blood; Naruto traded blow for blow so that Sasuke would stay; but Sakura only ever pleaded for life. Don't kill them, she said, of those who had hurt her.)

"She strains herself for no reason," sighs Madara, disapproving. "I cannot abide people who do not recognize lost causes."

Nor Sasuke. Except: the Sakura who cried over his most dead body on a bridge in a fog; the Sakura who would have followed him out of Konoha into hell; the Sakura who, wiser and grown-up and knew her duty, still faltered at the last moment, with her kunai to his back -- when had Sasuke not been a lost cause to her? And in return: when, feverish with pain, he clutched her hand and fell into her arms; when, unable take her with him and unable to say goodbye, he told her "Thank you," and lingered stupidly by her bench; when, though striking Karin through the heart was enough to allay Zetsu's suspicion's, still Sasuke said, Kill Karin and you can come with me--when has Sasuke not been rash and impetuous, forgetting himself and duty?

"Yes," says Sasuke. "But--there is not much glory is easy victories."

Sakura tries too hard and does not know when to give up and is terrible at taijutsu. Still, Sasuke has not thought of her as weak in a long time. Sasuke is used to strength which overpowers, strength which kills--Sasuke's strength is the same as Madara's. Sakura though: her strength is a more subtle thing, which endures.

Honor is won in battle--but not all battles are waged on a field. There are those fought in one's heart. Had his brother been so strong as to slay the entire clan? Had anyone fought back? Or did his parents give Itachi their blessings--and sat in seiza, and went to their deaths as Uchiha of Konoha, loyal in the end? Had the entire clan knelt, and cleansed their hearts of guilt, and accepted a warrior's death? Was their strength, at the end, Sakura's strength?

When Sakura looks at Sasuke the way she does now, without wavering, without fear, he thinks, Yes. The Uchiha remained true. Konoha will understand what we gave up for it. Konoha will recognize our sacrifices.

It's not that Sasuke is in love with Sakura. That's not the case.

Only: she makes him believe in things which he would have despaired of. She makes him wonder what might have been. She makes him wish that death approached a little slower.

vi.

After near-death injuries, when Sasuke is bedridden and recuperating, he allows himself a moment of weakness. He drifts half-asleep, and daydreams about how things might have been had he stayed in Konoha, had his family been alive. He thinks about becoming a policeman, with no greater purpose than to keep neighborhood kids from horsing around on rooftops, or getting the odd cat out of the tree, or occasionally chasing down a petty thief. He thinks about keeping a garden, growing basil and tomatoes; about going flower-viewing in the spring, and leaf-viewing the autumn. He thinks about courting Sakura--bright, clever, sensible Sakura.

If he could, Sasuke would court Sakura with all the pageant of Uchiha tradition. His father, courting his mother, had bound his eyes with a strip of cloth, and had not unwound it until the wedding. His mother, who had been Uchiha too, well understood the meaning of the gesture: that her marriage to him had been the return of his sight. Sasuke, with Sakura, would have done no less: she would have meant no less to him.

This is what Sasuke thinks about sometimes, when he has one foot in death's door. It is not possible, of course--he would have her marry a missing-nin without fortune or means. But it makes for a pretty daydream.

vii.

Sasuke is not in love with Sakura, but in any other life, he would be. He watches Naruto's already faint chakra fade even more, and looks at the terrible pallor in Sakura's face as she strains herself past all sense; and Sasuke knows--the same way he knew, when he was six years old, standing amid corpses--what he must do. He spares a moment to think, In my next life, I will find you; and it will not be like this.

Then he pivots on one foot, ducking low, bringing his sword up. Kusanagi is all grace, and she heeds him. Now, Chidori flaring along her length, she buries herself into Madara's armor, up through his stomach and out his back.

"What--" Madara, for a moment, looks surprised. Then his expression smoothes out again. "Foolish boy," he chides, still sounding for all the world like a benevolent uncle. "What did you hope to accomplish by that? I am already dead, you know."

"Yes," agrees Sasuke. "I only need to hold you a minute, though."

"I am afraid I cannot give you a minute," says Madara, raising up a hand into which his gunbai appears. "And--though you do not shame the Uchiha blood in you--I hope you do not think that you are a match for me."

He swings his gunbai overhead and down. Sasuke braces himself and--then Susanoo is there, one arm blocking Madara. Where the gunbai struck, Susanoo's armor chips. Perhaps even a minute, Sasuke thinks, was an overestimation.

He glances up, at the moon--the kaleidoscope is already formed. Good enough, then. Madara is committed. There is no going back.

viii.

The Eternal Tsukuyomi is not easily set up. A chance once passed is hard to come by again. Sasuke thinks:  his father bound his eyes shut for his mother.

It is not much more difficult to call on Izanagi. Sasuke does not understand the mechanics of Izanagi very well, but it is not a technique one practices in any case. He knows what he wants: Naruto, too bright and too loud and more alive than anyone; and the moon bright and pale in the night sky, unbound to his mostly-dead clan. I have put my fist in Naruto's chest, thinks Sasuke: I have saved his life and taken his life, and surely--that is sufficient to claim Naruto's life for Sasuke's own. Surely that is enough for Izanagi to extend to Naruto. And the moon, which so proudly displays the mark of Uchiha. Sasuke is the last Uchiha alive. The moon then is his to claim then, as well.

So he prays to Izanagi, and claims Naruto and the moon for his own, and offers in return half of his sight.

His left eye slides shut. Madara asks, voice dreadful, "What have you done?" Around Sasuke, Susanoo flickers, and then disappears; and from his--from his blind side, Madara's gunbai comes down. Sasuke does not see it.

Distantly , Sasuke hears, "Sasuke!" The voice of an idiot who never learned to use proper honorifics, thinks Sasuke disparagingly. Then, even louder than Naruto, Sakura cries, "Sasuke-kun!"

Yes, thinks Sasuke, as the ground rushes up to meet him. He is well-satisfied.

ix.

Because this has always been Naruto's story, and because Naruto was born to be hero, Sasuke does not die. What kind of hero cannot save the life of his best friend, in the battle against their ultimate foe? The hero saves the day, and the best friend is indebted forever and ever and ever.

"You're an idiot," says Sasuke, propped up on a wealth of pillows in his hospital bed. He has more pillows, suspects Sasuke, than is strictly hospital issue. On the table beside him, there is a vase of daffodils and a plate of apple slices. Naruto reaches for one. Sasuke slaps his hand away. "These are mine."

"Asshole," replies Naruto, but does not quibble further. He leans back in his chair, balancing against the windowsill on two chair legs. "Why are you still not released, man? I got out weeks ago."

"Because you're a freak," says Sasuke promptly.

"I know you are," Naruto says agreeably, "but what am I?" Sasuke is prepared to lean over and punch Naruto in the face. Naruto doubtless would have happily responded in kind; but Sakura bustles into the room, charts in one hand and the other raised in a fist.

"Naruto," she says threateningly. "What did I say about visiting hours?"

"Okay, okay!" says Naruto, scrambling out of his chair. "I'll throw myself out--you don't have to hit me." He edges past Sakura and out the door. But, in the hallway, he lingers for a moment to tell Sasuke, "Hey, I'll bring you some ramen for breakfast tomorrow, yeah? Do you want pork or mi--"

"Naruto!" snaps Sakura.

"I'll get you both, then. Bye!"

Sakura turns back to Sasuke. She sets her chart down, and smooths out his bedsheets. "Maybe if I hit him some more," she mutters.

Sasuke lets her reach around him to fluff up the pillows. "You know he's going to sneak in through the windows again in an hour or so."

"What the hell, does he think I'm going to forget to feed you?" Sakura huffs, sitting down on the chair Naruto had just vacated.

Sasuke is not in the frequent habit of defending Naruto, and he does not intend to start now. So he leans back against the pillows, and picks the plate of apples, and eats quietly. Sakura watches him for several moments, fond, before picking up her charts again. She spreads the paperwork out on his bed, and leaning forward, sets to work: scribbling down notes and scrawling signatures. When Sasuke finishes the apples, he sets the plate back on the table. His eyelid slipping half-shut, Sasuke drifts a little, half-dozing and half watching Sakura work. Mostly, he listens to the soft rustle of papers, the scratch of a pen, and underneath it all, her steady quiet breaths.

"Hey," he says, after a while. She looks up, attentive. "The plum trees down by the river will probably bloom next week. We should go."

Sakura frowns thoughtfully. "Next week? You're healing well, but I don't know if by next week I can relea--"

Sasuke twitches on leg, rustling her papers. That wasn’t his point. He says again, "We should go."

"We sh--" Sakura blinks. "Oh," she says. "Oh," and reddens. "Sasuke-kun," she says.

That's agreement enough. "Hn," says Sasuke, satisfied, eye slipping shut. Sakura is here, and there will be hanami next week. Perhaps, thinks Sasuke, a garden the week after that. And one day, to his mother--one day--

Peacefully and well-content, Sasuke falls asleep.

x.

Sasuke's memories of Sakura are not based on sight. Sasuke's memories of Sakura are based in the heart.

So he does not remember her very well; not half as well as he would like. It's all right, she tells him. She'll be around to remind him. He won't have the chance to forget.

--arabesque05 

[sasusaku-headcanons]

28. with magnitude and direction [K+]

Sasuke abhors this grandfather clock that Sakura insisted to be brought over to the living room, standing on the opposing side of the entrance room. It was the first thing that wakes you in the morning with its deafening bangs, as well the first thing you see after you come home throughout the front door. (It’s the reason why he preferred to use the back doors.) The old, rickety thing stood oddly from the sea of the more sensible and traditional furniture of that surrounded it. 

He couldn’t throw it away, though. Okaasan already loves it; this old, damned thing. Otousan was disapproving it because of how it rattles the thin doors when it chimes. And he could hear his cousins drawn to the whispers of its swinging pendulum…. It was a welcome distraction for all these hovering, nosy spirits  that meandered all over the Uchiha Household.

It’s already past 1AM, and the team just got off the shipping vessel they had hitched a ride on. Port City was still awake, its docks still teeming with huge men carrying large basins filled with ice, fish and seafood produce that would find its way throughout the Fire Country before the sun rises.

Team 7 had just finished a B-ranked mission: relatively easy (delivery of goods) in light of the aftermath of the war. Konoha had just finally gotten its legs, and to thank every shinobi village for their support, the Hokage wanted to extend their gratitude by giving what few harvests Konoha already has.

And of course, a few shinobi necessities that Konoha could give out. Nothing too important, but the gesture would not be lost on the diplomats of the villages. And this part was their mission.

So it was a fairly easy job. The trip just consumed most of the mission time. And now they are more than ready to find a place to stay for what remains of the night, and pass out. Travelling through the wide channel between the Fire Country and Water Country back and forth was way more than draining than anything they have ever experienced. Konoha should invest more in training the sea-legs of its shinobi, in case potential enemies decided to torture them by marooning them in the middle of the ocean.

(On second thought, they really should have listened to Naruto. Screw saving chakra; just try to walk through the entire channel. Sharks and the Kraken damned!)

“Aww man, I’m beat.” Naruto stated, hunching slightly under the huge pack on his back. His normally large blue eyes now lidded heavily, as if he was ready to tumble down to the ground and start snoozing already. Sakura doesn’t doubt that Naruto would.

“We just need to find a place to stay, and sleep for a while.” While everyone on the Team looked so dreadful, Sai just looked like his usual pasty white self, completely unperturbed by seasickness and travel. “Perhaps it would better if we find a small inn.”

Sakura sighed, before hoisting her pack higher in her back. Frankly, she just needed a flat surface, and she’s going to be good until it’s time for them to travel again. She would be better if they let her sleep for as long as she wants. It feels like she’s been up on her feet for five weeks straight.

She lifted her eyes from the ground and gazed at the warehouses, the wagons, the bustle of men and women haggling prices and transferring fish from one barrel to another, and the merchants carefully looking after their wagons of cargo, afraid of port thieves trying to get their hands on their silks and porcelain.

She missed this kind of peaceful chaos. She recalled days when sitting inside a carriage was as normal as walking with her two feet, and sailing on ships doesn’t take much toll on her as it did now. She remembered receiving trinkets and tokens of different colors and sparkles from merchants from all over the whole continent, fascinated by her pink hair and mostly because her father is a good business partner, so her daughter deserves at least a little pin of emeralds and polished chalcedony.

A life so long ago, it seemed it was all a fragment of her imagination.

She was jostled out of her thoughts by nudge from Sasuke. “We’re leaving you here if you’re not going to hurry.”

“Ah! Wait for me, guys!” She started to run towards her team, Naruto and Sai already leading. “Do you guys even know where were heading?”

Sai looked at her over his shoulder, still walking ahead of Sakura and Sasuke. “We thought we’d follow the big fish wagon--”

“Wait! Not that corner. There’s a shorter way two blocks down from here.” She points at a distance. When she looked back at her teammates, they were looking strangely at her. “What?”

Naruto cocked his head. “Have you been here before, Sakura-chan?”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Eh. You could say that. Let’s start walking.” This time, the boys followed behind Sakura.

“So, how do you know about directions here at the Ports? Do you also know about inns we could crash to?”

“Maybe.” Sakura shrugged. “It’s been so long since I’ve last been here. Let’s just hope that the inn I knew from my childhood is still on business.”

They rounded on the corner Sakura pointed out, and it seemed like a vast different from the port area. There were shops lined up on both sides of the cobblestoned road, with dim alleys branching off from the main road. And everything was dead silent.

“I guess Port City still sleeps, huh?” Naruto chides.

Sakura just elbowed him before they set off again.

They haven’t gotten too far from the port area when they heard a crash and the sound of thin sheets of metal tumbling over one another. There were faint murmurs of masculine tone, before a cry rang out of the silence.

“Help! Help! Help!”

Eyes looked at one another, before they flash stepped towards the alley were they heard the scuffle.

“Shut up! Just give us the money, so we won’t have to beat you up!”

“I‘m not going to give you any more than the tax I’ve already paid! Close my inn if you want, but I’m not giving you any money anymore!”

There were five men, all big like those cargo lifters in the port area. They probably used to be in the cargo business before they started bullying frail men for money. Or maybe they’re doing both.

These big men were ganging up on a lithe man, sprawled at the dirty alley floor. There are boxes and crates all over the place, and toppled own metal bins, which was probably what they heard earlier.

The biggest one of the men raised his hand, aimed to backslap the lanky man. The merchant, sensing the impending hit, covered his face with his arm.

And that was when Team 7 went down and toppled these brutish goons. It was all too easy, though, even when they were all tired and craving so badly for sleep. It was over before the men knew what hit them.

The man was still cowering when Sakura approached him, touching his shoulder before the man curled more into himself.

“I’m sorry, but are you alright?”

At the sound of her voice, the lanky man startled and removed the arm covering his face. The light from the lamppost at the entrance of the alley gave his protector a glare around his head, until his vision finally adjusted to the light…

And he is a she.

“You’re… pretty.” The man uttered, still transfixed at Sakura.

Sakura just blushed at the words before extending a hand to him. Behind the man, Sasuke just rolled his eyes at the pathetic man.

“The man must really hit his head hard,” was all Sai said.

 “Wait,” The man started. “You look… familiar.” The man was staring intently at Sakura, studying where he could have seen her face.

Naruto just threw an arm around the man. “Dude, that is so not smooth! Besides, you don’t wanna score Sakura-chan, anymore. Teme over there might cast--”

“You’re Haruno-san’s daughter! From all those years ago! You brought the longcase clock!” The man brightened up, despite his bruised face and bleeding lip. His elation was so surprising that Naruto could only look at him with a confused look on his face.

“Huh? You must really hit your head hard--”

“Don’t you remember me?” The man shrugged off Naruto’s arm and held Sakura’s hands on his own. “I’m Syuusuke! Hazuki Syuusuke!”

Sakura tried to remember anyone of that name, but before she could notice, Sasuke was immediately beside her, prying the hands of the man from her.

And then something clicked.

“Oh. Oh! Syuu-chan! Hazuki-san’s son!” Sakura laughed before hugging Hazuki. After circling around like two kids, Sakura held him away to look at Hazuki. “You’ve changed so much! You used to have round cheeks,” She said as she squeezed his cheeks, not noticing his wince. “And now you have this all thin cheeks and- Oh! I’m sorry I’m aggravating your bruises! Here.”

Green glow illuminated her hands on his cheeks before she stepped back and surveyed his face clinically. “There. Good as new!”

It was only then that Sakura looked at her teammates, who have all gathered around her and Hazuki rather protectively. “Guys, this is Syuu-chan. Syuu-chan, these are my teammates!”

Naruto stepped closer to the guy. “You know, I thought you were my type of man. Underdog and stuff. But now, you’re being awfully close to Sakura-chan, and that’s not my type of man.” He cracked his knuckles, his face all serious.

“Naruto, stop being dramatic. Besides, Syuu-chan is the answer to our prayers!”

“I didn’t know we were praying for something.” Sai stated, his eyes trained on Hazuki.

“Syuu-chan’s family owns an inn here in Port City, guys! I mean, you still own the inn, right?”

Sakura, all bright and happy with the joy of her reunion with her childhood friend, looked expectantly at Hazuki, who was shivering from the frostiness of the glares of the men surrounding him.

“Uh… Uhm… Will I be spared if I say yes?”

“Huh?” She blinked. “Oh. Okay, will you three please behave.”

There was silence. No one moved.

“Seriously? Do you three want to sleep in this dump with broken ribs?”

Naruto brightened, slinging an arm again on Hazuki’s shoulder, steering him out of the alley. Sai followed the two, but clearly still on the alert about the guy. “Ah, Hazuki, my man~! Now tell me, where is your inn?”

“J-Just near here. N-near the T-tourist Harbor.”

Sasuke took his place beside Sakura. “Seriously, he’s harmless. Stop glaring at him.”

“Hn.”

“I mean it.”

Sasuke just muttered something close to you’re annoying under his breath.

He still glared at the back of Hazuki’s head for the whole trip.

**

The inn was an enormous house of really beautiful wooden architecture built near the sea. Upon entering the inn, the first thing one sees is the enormous grandfather clock right beside the lobby desk. Probably because the interior of the inn doesn’t look fit to be inside what a traditional-looking inn could be. The walls were painted white, but were decorated with paintings, rugs that looked like they came from Suna, and colourful couches. The grandfather clock just looks so out of place in the motif of the lobby. Like the exterior of the inn, the clock is made with oak, with a glass case and a bronze pendulum immobile inside.

There was a friendly teenager behind the lobby, who looked quite chipper despite the early hour. Hazuki talked to her quickly before leading the team down a hallway and into a large room, very traditional with sliding doors and mint green mats.

“I asked Hanako to send food in case you’re all hungry?” It sounded more like an advertisement that dinner is going to happen regardless of their decision, but finished in a request for politeness. Or probably intimidation. Hazuki still look scared of the three men Sakura was with.

They all looked tired and travel-worn, and Sasuke was about to request to bring out the futons when Sakura opened her mouth and agreed for food to be served. He glanced at Naruto and Sai; Naruto obviously looking crestfallen, Sai still impassive. But they all have this glint in their eyes. The innkeeper is not going to get alone time with Sakura.

As food was served to them, Hazuki and Sakura continued catching up with each other. Hazuki expressed his surprise to find Sakura, and to learn her career choice. He told them he never imagined Sakura would choose to be a shinobi and he just thought that Sakura would follow his father’s footsteps.

Sakura asked about how the inn was faring, and how he ended up in a brawl at one in the morning.

“They are tax collectors. They’ve been scaring shop owners and businessmen into giving them more than the city-ordained tax, or else they will put us out of business. They usually steer clear of innkeepers, but I guess I’m just at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Hazuki shrugged.

“Hey, what’s the deal with the huge-ass clock at the lobby?” Naruto asked in between his ramen noodles.

“Yeah. I noticed it’s not working anymore. What happened?” Sakura asked.

“It’s been like that since you left them here. Apparently, the clock needs to be wound every week, but nobody around here knows how to wound a longcase clock, so we’ve just left it as it is.” Hazuki shrugged. Naruto continued to ask more questions, but Sakura visibly wilted a little after Hazuki’s answer.

**

Sometime during the night, when all was asleep and the girl at the counter left her position with her cup, Sasuke set forth towards the clock.

For a moment, he just stood in front of it, remembering the same longcase clock they had in the Uchiha Manor. How Itachi was the one who wounds the clock, and he’s always eager on learning Itachi’s jobs.

(He also remembered how the time stopped in that clock, as no one would wound its cables again.)

He opened the glass case and just as he reaches inside the clock, he hears Hazuki speak.

“Sakura-chan loved that clock.”

Sasuke stopped his hand, before he resumed in winding the clock. “She was five, and she grew really attached to that clock. I thought it was only because the clock was just another shiny thing for a kid, but I realized she had another reason.”

There is a trace of sadness in Hazuki’s voice. “The clock was the last piece in her father’s collection. They stopped here in Port City to sell the clock, and after selling, they were to travel to Konoha and settle down. They stayed here in this inn, and placed that clock for display exactly there, for every tourist who checks in here to see. And every morning, Sakura would stand in front of the clock, touch it, and murmur things at it.

“The clock was her companion. It was her only constant thing as they move around with their shop wagon.”

Sasuke closed the glass case before glancing at Hazuki. Hazuki was just looking at the hands of the clock above them, wearing a bittersweet smile. “They stayed for a week here, and I thought they were staying forever. I thought I was going to marry her.”

At that, Sasuke froze. Since the war, his reinstatement as a Konoha shinobi has been a work in progress. Although there are people who had welcomed him back with less fuss due to his work during the last phase of the war, there were still quite a handful of people he had yet to win over. Among them was Sakura.

It seemed like Sakura was fine with him back, but their relationship was never quite how it was before he defected. But then all his relationships with people changed. It just seemed like Sakura felt more defeated around him. As if she had accepted that there would be things she could never expect him to do.

It felt like she always expects the worst out of him, always vigilant to the moment when the other shoe would drop.

Sometimes, when she would work until the wee hours of the night, and he would just be coming out of some counselling time that he was required to attend, he would try to walk her home, and she would always get this muted surprise look on her face, before a beautiful blush blooms as his gestures sinks down on her.

(He knows there would always be a crack on their interactions. Sakura

will always have her reservations. But there's a part in him that refuses to let the distance grow. He's the one who placed this gap between them, but that doesn’t mean he would let it grow, let the unsaid things fester.

He had lost many people before. And to lose someone when he could still do something about it, that fear is more crippling than being left alone for death. When there are choices that could have been made, but were not made. Choices that would always haunt him.

And he would always need her. Like he needs Naruto and Kakashi to tether him to reality, to sanity, to life. They were a part of his whole, however broken it was. He would never voice it out loud, but he would be damned to do his best to keep them this time around. When the world he knew was all a lie, his Team 7 was the only truth that he had left.

And though he still wasn’t ready for them to be said, he could try to take the first step. He would do the first step. She had done all the first steps before, and now it would be his turn. In the smallest things, like always trying to sit beside her or walking her home or leaving a bento on her desk, especially during her busy hospital shifts.

He would always be not enough, there would always be a gap, but he would do what he could to try to bridge it. And somewhere along the way, his loyalty to her gave way to something so natural. Like everything fall into places, and somehow sitting beside her in Ichiraku felt more right than a sense of obligation.)

Hazuki traced the glass case. Sasuke glared harder at the clock, something in his chest constricted.

 **

The following morning, Sasuke was tasked to call Sakura down for breakfast. He checked on her room, but it was all empty, save for a folded futon and her packed bags. He wandered aimlessly around the inn, until the one place Sakura would want to visit before she leaves this place, with no prospect of going back again.

True enough, he saw her standing in front of the longcase clock in the lobby. There was suspiciously no one else around in the lobby, except for Sakura, her fingertips touching the glass case of the clock. He stood beside her, the addition of his reflection against the glass the only sign that he had taken his place beside Sakura.

“My father used to be a merchant when I was really, really young.” She began quietly. “Port City was our last stop, before he decided that his trade moves too much for a young girl like me. And moving a lot, it doesn’t leave a lot of opportunities for a little girl to make friends.”

Through their reflections, he could see the teary glint in her eyes. “I used to think that every piece of furniture my father sells are a part of our castle, which we had to fled because of a curse placed upon our kingdom.”

He snorts, and she giggles at his reaction. Sasuke may not look it, but he was a great listener. And for someone who talks too much, Sakura greatly appreciates the signs he gives to show that he is listening to her.

“It was quite silly. But I know you know how I was when we were younger. All fairy tales and Happily Ever After’s.”

She traced an unseen pattern against the cold glass. “I never thought I would be where I am right now when I was five.”

He never thought she would be where she is right now when they were twelve, if he were completely honest. He thought Sakura would just quit being a ninja altogether, despite being so book smart. She was too light, too breakable, too fragile. During his time at Oto, the rumors of Sakura being the apprentice of the Godaime Hokage sounded so surreal to him. Yet at the same time, there is a swell of pride that she finally found her niche, somewhere where she would bloom magnificently.

Sakura may never have been meant to be in this career, but she owned it with her determination to pave her own path.

“When I was five, my father treated me like a princess. I never had to do work, and for so long, everything I wanted was given so freely to me. And now, I still get some of the material things that I want,”

Sasuke snorts at this. Her shoe collection and walk-in closet at her apartment would have to beg to differ.

“I just never thought I’d learn how to make the effort. I feel like I’ve come so far in this life. From being the little princess, to a bullied little girl, a subpar genin, to here. Looking at this clock, it feels like the life I have lived before was just a dream.”

There was a fragile aura that surrounds them. Like a moment so distinct, like feeling in the cusp of things of events that will determine the future. Much as the clock signifies the end of her childhood, it felt like this moment, in front of this very same clock, is an end of a phase, and the start of something so scary and thrilling at the same time. Like Sakura letting more of him in, trusting him a little more. It felt like they were finally meeting halfway to each other.

“Hazuki told me he thought he was going to marry you.”

For the first time in her life, Sakura could hear a little playfulness in his voice. Her somber mood lifting, a bubble of joy escaping her overflowing heart.

“We were kids. I really thought I was a princess, can you believe that?” Sakura reaches for his arm, wrapping her arms around it before leaning her head on his shoulder.

And he could believe that. She’s still a princess, he thought as he studied their joint reflection on the glass case, his fingers tangled with hers.

The princess with her magical grandfather clock, fairy hair, bloody weapons, healing hands, and a heart full of love.

**

One morning, Sakura found Sasuke glaring at the grandfather clock. He had commissioned it to be delivered to her apartment a few months after their stop over at Port City, a little weeks shy before they started their adult sleepovers.

 “We’re not going to bring this to our new home.”

“No, Sasuke-kun. We are bringing this one over. Don’t you just love this clock?” Sasuke just glares harder at the clock, as Sakura wrapped her arms on his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. “There are just so many memories I could think of, looking at this.”

“Like Naruto’s 28th, and you were delirious with alcohol poisoning--”

“If I remember correctly, you had fun that night, against this clock.”

“Hn.” Sasuke shrugged. “It’s sturdy. It may have its merits.”

“Sasuke-kun!” Sakura traced the clear glass with her finger tips, dragging her fingers down until her eyes settled on the pendulum. The ring in her finger glinted, as if reacting to its former holder.

“It’s like a big engagement ring box.” She giggled at the thought. “Only you, Sasuke-kun, would spend more for the box than the ring.”

She felt him extract his arm from her hold, before arranging them with her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands settling on her belly, splayed and protective.

“It’s going to be so annoying at night. And it’s too tedious to regularly reset.”

“Sasuke-kun, stop pouting.” She pats his hand resting on her stomach. “You could teach him how to reset the clock.”

She could feel his arms tighten around her. “Just like Itachi?”

“Just like Itachi.” She confirmed.

“We’ve come so far, don’t we?”

He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “We did.”

[sasusaku-headcanons]

27. militat omnis amans [T]

A twelve/13-year old Sakura wonders on why she loved Sasuke-kun in the first place? She didn’t know a thing about him, and only recently knew of the massacre. This question is echoed throughout her growth, as well of the questioning doubts And, years later, Sasuke provides that answer

Words From Uchiha Sasuke, To Haruno Sakura: lessons that she kept to her heart

[1] you’re annoying (it defined me)

Sakura can feel everything.

The wind brushes against her still damp skin, wet with sweat and blood (and tears). They create stark trails across her cheeks, the hollows of her throat, the spaces between her breasts, and the expanse of her forehead; The salt and heat pricks the multitude of wounds - bleeding, gaping, weeping - and could no longer prompt her to heal them immediately.

Instead, Sakura focuses on the excruciating burn of her lungs, inhaling copper scent and dust motes, mouth gasping (sobbing) for the stale air she couldn’t catch.

Shishou will be extremely displeased if she got the whole thing  -- process of chakra calculations, distribution, & release -- wrong. It's a requirement for tomorrow’s assessment, and she cannot make the same mistake that led to this.

A miscalculated, miniscule excess energy had coated one of the fourteen phalanxes (distal interphalangeal joint, third ligament.), thus resulting the current state of her mangled hand.

You deserved this, she raises the broken thing to her line of sight, because you are not strong enough.

The hands that were carefully lathered in soap, scrubbed in perfumed lotions. - they completely transformed into a mass of cracked nails, crisscrossing scars, and open blisters.

(she remembers his hands, covered in old burns, in hardened calluses, in deep grooves. no wonder sasuke hated to touch her: all pristine hair, unblemished skin, dreaming eyes. it practically announced to everyone: i am weak. i am fragile. i need protection. and she knew that he hated that blatant ignorance, floundering to a world she never did understand. sasuke became a shinobi to kill. sakura became a kunoichi because of a stupid dream: that she can be a heroine and get the guy to prove ino-pig that she didn’t need her anymore.

now, she’s paying the price of her foolishness, learning her lesson the hard way.)

Sheer will forces her chakra to flood her strained pathways, sluggishly flowing beneath her skin, boiling acid that wrapped like ribbons on each nerve and vein, knitting muscle and melding bone together for an hour, suffering in teary silence, not letting herself even hiss in response.

There is no time, the mantra repeats as she could feel that she’s nearly fixed the abductor muscles in her thumb, there is no time to be weak.

The moment that she could already make a fist, Sakura rolled face first, then placed her palms flat to the ground. Flexing her arms to carry her weight, she pushed - kneeling on skinned knees, standing on shaking feet. She does not complain, as she had already done that : wasting her entire genin years doing so.

When Sakura bends to break the earth into boulders, she does not scream in pain, she does not collapse in relief, she does not smile in triumph.

Instead, she sits on the cracked earth, and waits for sunrise.

The next day, Sakura executes the perfected technique to her master seven times.

[2] who did that to you? tell me (i learned of fear)

Sakura first learned of  the Uchiha Massacre when she was waiting for Sasuke to wake up.

They said he was assaulted by a dangerous criminal that had targeted Naruto. They said that Sasuke-kun, even with the strength of Chidori  and his famed eyes, was no match for his opponent. He was nothing compared to his brother.

His brother? The mere thought was appalling, as she never even thought to ask Sasuke about his family before. And then she realized, after all the times that she had told herself that she loved Sasuke-kun, she never really did know about him.

This is why she started collecting facts, not the inconsequential hearsays and gossips that she could hear, but things that were catalogued in the public library about the Uchiha Massacre, events that took place the year after her family had settled in Konoha District.

In the mornings, she stayed by his bedside frequently, replacing wilted daffodils and peeling him apples. At night, she reads of the grisly accounts of those who cleared the bodies, of interviews from chuunins who cleaned the blood off the walls,

(another year of being under the hokage’s tutelage would bring her more information: detailed logs of each retrieved corpse, causes of death, the blunt trauma wounds, the positions of each child, mother, father, families...and the clear, unemotional entries of the sole survivor, found unconscious on a street)

Sakura tries to smile, even though Sasuke could not see. She tells him of the uneventful mornings with Ino, the novels she recently read, speaks about anything and everything except the reason why her voice trembles in the end, and she clasps his unresponsive hands. She stares at the pallid, closed eyes, the marks on his neck and the rough bandages on his hands.

Recognizing the second time she felt this way, where she almost felt the towering trees and suffocating shadows of a damning forest, Sakura finally acknowledges her greatest fear: it is not being faced with a murderous sannin, or fighting for her life against rogue nins. It’s not even death.

It’s being helpless.

When Naruto returns with the promised healer, Sakura holds Sasuke in fear.

[3] from here on out, we all begin new paths (the start is always lonely)

“Forehead.”  

Sakura startles, almost toppling with the scrolls pile at the edge of her desk. It’s already three o’clock in the morning, and she refuses to retire for the night in favor of preparing early for her Chuunin exam next month. It isnt surprising that she's now assigned to be Shikamaru’s replacement for Team Ten, the only remaining slot for the retakers of the former Rookie Nine.

(it still remains clear to her mind, his grip over her hand, the phantom screams, the fright that held her heart in a vise. the scars on her arms throbs, and her right eyelid flinches at the memory.)

Ino didn’t dare speak of it, the memories that massive forest wrought to her mind, when Sakura asked to join their team with a trembling voice. Her...friend (it felt comforting to call her that again) merely patting her newly cut pink hair before inviting her for a spar.

She’s returning with more determination and confidence, her strategic plans more advanced than the standard genin traps. She can kill a person in fifteen different ways with only a finger, and still make them suffer worse than death with the other hand.

Still, the thought of taking this exam without them stings her, salting the litter of unhealed cuts on her heart. It takes a deliberate mental slap to remind her that her boys turned their backs on her first, leaving her imprisoned inside the village walls.

This small betrayal was nothing, compared to what they did to her.

“Forehead? I’m talking to you!” Ino cut her wandering thoughts again, now making herself at home on her  untouched bed. For months, they already started to splint back a fractured friendship, bound by tentative conversations and outright bickering that even made Chouji leave willingly a whole week for D-rank missions, before joining them for training.

“What is it, pig?” It felt familiar and strange to say them again.

“Here.”

It's a thin, washed-out red cloth, nothing of value.

Sakura recognizes the wealth behind the gift. Ino bites her lip, waiting.

It felt like going through circles, when Sakura held the soft thing on her hands again, and tied it around her hair.

Does she always have to lose something, before getting it back again?

-

The night blankets the village in a peaceful slumber, but Sakura remained restless, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

Fingers absentmindedly playing at the frayed edges of a worn ribbon, she remembers the day to live by herself. She left her friend, because if she wanted to have Sasuke-kun notice her, then she had to get out from the shadows and surpass the only girl who had been perfect in her eyes.

Sakura wanted to leave the one who had first believed in her.

Her gaze slid to the stray kunai on the floor, the scattered pile of books, the smiling face in a frame, the boys who remained scowling. Sighing, she pretends that it’s probably better if he never came back. That it’s possible to ignore the gaping space in her chest, as she realizes he‘s not worth it.

She could barely remember his voice now.

Why do I love you? She asks herself, green eyes dry, though she felt like drowning.

(she once told him, without you, i would learn what loneliness felt like. )

She doesn’t answer the question. Instead, she breathes evenly and falls asleep.

At the chuunin exams, Haruno Sakura excels, thoughts of teammates and first loves forgotten. The green jacket, and the customized red hitai-te - which made Ino laugh, and ask in teasing indignation are you mocking me, forehead? that she received that day amounted to her resolve.

One day, she vows, I’ll know the answer why.

This is why she is relentless to have him back.

[4] even if it’s you (i can live without you)

How easier could have it been, she thinks as she stands before him, with her blood pounding on her ears, if I truly loved Naruto instead?

She could have saved herself from those crying nights, her almost brushes with death to bleed and fight, spending her days in suffering. She could have been spared from that pain.

Naruto would not let her waste her tears, because she would not be crying.

He would make her happy. He would do whatever it takes to bring a smile to her face. He wouldn’t even let her lift a finger, and tire herself out doing jobs that he could do for her. He would always make time for her. He would always give her the attention and the love she wanted, and more.

Naruto would be perfect for her. And in that perfect world, she would have been perfect enough without any effort at all.

But that would never be real.

She chased after a broken dream, her own reality. A pretty dream everyone else might have found too foolish. A dream that was too broken to be perfect, but for her, Sasuke was perfect.

In this imperfect world, she loved this impossible, perfect dream. She chased, and he left. He left her broken, and weak. He left her to let her piece together herself, to change herself.

Loving Naruto would be easy; she would have been perfect the way she was.

But in loving this imperfect man, she realized her own imperfections. In loving this shattered dream glass, she finally threw the mold of herself, turning into these splinters that opened her eyes to the changes that will push her to limit, to this very moment.

To who she is now, and where she is now.

She is broken, like him, but that is better than being her perfect old self.

Sakura meets Sasuke again, with steel in her hands, scars in her heart and lies in her eyes.

"Then prove it."

A single step, she speaks words that she truly meant: Sakura could have left the world to burn for him, she could truly kill for him.  She could do a lot worse - for him, when she first learned that he already joined the Akatsuki, became an enemy of the leaf.

Sasuke had always brought the best, and the worst, out of her.

(for him)

"Kill her."

(kill me)

He taught her that she can live without him.

The man before her is not the Sasuke-kun she once knew.

(i can kill you. i can kill me.) But she had glimpsed this darkness, three years ago.

Sakura had feared that cruelty, that menace. but, and knows, knows that whatever triggered his inhumanity, an overwhelming grief and pain came with it.

And that’s why the poisoned knife stops from plunging onto his back, because she remembers that her embrace and her tears had once stopped him.

Sasuke-kun does not deserve to die, when he needs to be saved.

[5] you must have noticed it first, right? (stand tall, while i move mountains)

She has no time to think of him.

The skyline is made up of smoke and ash, and she could barely close her eyes before another body is laid before her, with a dying gaze on hers.

She cannot think of him.

Their stares linger on hers, silent mocking whispers behind her, how can she fight, when she loves a man who had started all of this in the first place? with every life she saved, every confession she received, every wound she sealed - she feels half-guilty, half-angry. Everything in her mind  seemed ambivalent, and she could not seem to settle on what does she really meant to the boys in her life, if she really deserves to stand between them.

She must not.

She calls forth the strength she knows she has, the strength to believe in her own self even when things aren’t on her favor. She blocks out that one part of her that will never stop asking the burning questions, the killing curiousity: why am i not enough? what have i done wrong?

But she silences them, as in this place, there is no room for doubts and questions. Everything is about certainty, of precise amount of chakra in her hands, and the right amount of confidence to save as many lives as she could. It goes beyond her own self-esteem issues, her own self, because in this moment, in this place, is where she trained for. This is why she broke herself for, to fix these people.

In this place - a tent brimming of wounded people, the darkest and bleakest part of the war where soldiers fight for their lives harder than any battle they could have fought - she finds herself.

In this place, she rises above her own expectations. She rises above the girl who cried when a boy left, with her heart broken, in a cold bench, but brings her compassion and hope with her.

She embraces the girl who was scared of death, and gathers the power that faced one of the most ruthless killers in their world, because she needs that courage to face each and every single wounded shinobi here.

She remembers every phase of her pain, hurt and growth, and pours forth everything she has learned in every wound she closes, in every salve she prepares, in every operation she does.

She will not think of him, as the field continues to bleed the dead, when she almost accepts that in any moment, she (he) could be the next one lying in the white cot, with glowing hands covered over her eyes (his back).

She refuses to think of him, to think how little did she know him, one happy year of being twelve with him, compared to the three and more so years of his absence. Of how he had said that she would never understand loneliness, death and war. When all they had together for that single year were barbed words, heavy silences, lonely paths, caring actions and a cryptic parting. She should stop in wallowing of how everything would turn out in the end, and just move on for now, for the war doesn’t stop, and will continue on even if she died, and thinking about anything else would mean defeat.

She needed to survive, because she’s the only one strong enough to do so.

Sakura is the only one who can punch Naruto to the face if he insists on being stupid, that everything could return to normal after this.

Sakura is the only one who has the strength to believe in a traitor, even if she could never forget the burn of his fingers on her throat, that she could still forgive him one more time.

And one more, and one more, and always, one more time.

Because Sasuke will need it, no matter how hard he denies this.

And who else would give him a chance?

[6] thank you (a battle isn’t easily won)

Sakura is not stupid.  

She knows Sasuke doesn’t love her.

There is no reason for Sasuke to love her.

Sakura already knew that from the very start.

But Sakura loves him, because unknowingly, Sasuke needs her to.

She’s the only one who believes that Sasuke can be capable of love, even if he could not know how.

It's on how hard he tries. It reminds her of how hard she tried to learn how to fight, to stand up on her own two feet, and he taught her that.

Even if he wasn't there, even if he had to be the villain, to hurt her, to find herself. Even with all her faults, and ignorance and weaknesses, he still believed in her, in actions, in unspoken words, with the way he would look at her in silent approval, when he will have to speak up what no one else will tell her : on how naive and foolish she is.

His attempts - on every outstretched hand, on every conversation, on every day that he breathes and tries to make amends, even if he knows that he can never be forgiven - at atonement. In learning and remembering and gathering all of them back, all things he had lost, reminding her of her broken hands, of her restless nights, on how they had been both searching for their answers all along.

How hard is it, to learn how to love?

She understands. She’s wiser now, after three years.

And so, even if he didn't love her, the way she wanted him to, she knows that maybe, he wanted to love her more than she ever believed he could.

(sasuke taught her to be strong. he taught her that she didn't need him to protect her. that its okay for her to hate him if she wanted. he taught her how to be her.

and so, sakura will teach him. sakura will teach him how to dream, will teach him that there is beyond death and destruction. it might be futile, but with every small smile and embrace, he will be alright. he will learn to live.

sure, this love might never be fulfilled, or might never be granted herself with happiness. it would even be painful, but they were not unwelcome. she had always loved this broken man not because he needs to be fixed. she loves him because of his imperfections, of how the light had refracted those beautiful scars, and reveled that she had lived the most of her life because he didn’t.

she did not love sasuke because of his pretty face, but because of the small drops of kindness that remained despite of the tragedies. sasuke has always been a contradiction of angry words, and heartbreaking actions. and sakura has always been loud confessions and silent vows.

sasuke deserves to be loved.

and she loves sasuke.

the world already loved her, and she would give that love to him.

she loves sasuke: all of him. his grief. his madness. his imperfections.

he didn't need to ask her.

he didn't have to force her to wait.

there is no reason why.)

Like she promised from a moonlit night ago, Sakura will make him happy.

So when he dares to sacrifice himself, when he dares to forsake his life to protect the world he starts to appreciate, because he thinks he doesn't deserve the possible future that could be possible for him beyond this infernal war, Sakura gnashes her teeth in righteous fury, raise her fist, splatters blood while screaming hell fucking no.

(naruto tells her, and thought they were lies, until much much later: sasuke had called her his precious people, i don't ever want to watch those dear to me die before my eyes again were his exact words. and how dare he would sacrifice himself when he was her precious people , her temper flares did you ever think about me? i would do the same, for you!)

This is why they strived to bring Sasuke back. This is why Sakura loved him.

Because Sasuke had always been selfless from the very start.

(after all these years, how often did sasuke jump in front of death, with her watching his back?)

She will become selfish, for him.

[7]

“Live!"

A scream, filled with frisson of terror, awakens him from the numbing fog.

"Please!"

Sasuke blearily focuses at those green eyes, brimming with unshed tears, determined and fierce, at the large hole on his abdomen. Her hands are wrapped in firefly-glow; a warm blanket over the myriad of injuries, coaxing the walls of flesh and fascia to form at her will.

"Don't leave me again!"

Many wondered why Sasuke had always treated Sakura differently: a contradiction of harsh words, of gentle gestures, of cruel hands, of subtle kindness. No one could fathom what Haruno Sakura was to Uchiha Sasuke; most of all, the girl-woman herself - who struggled, chased,  just to stay beside him - had no idea who is she to him.

It is this : Sasuke valued this one lesson Sakura had taught him.

It isn't love. It isn't faith. It isn't even redemption.

It is her courage.

Everyone thinks that Uchiha Sasuke could never love. but in reality, he really did. He loved fiercely, deeply, completely - a destructive, corrosive thing that devours his entirety that he swore to himself that he would never feel anything like that again. All he had known from that single night was anything you have ever loved would be taken away from you, in a brutal and unexpected way.

( i already lost everything before, once. he grits his teeth, the sand and blood rolling on his tongue. i don't ever want to watch those dear to me die before my eyes again )

Then, here she is, this stupid foolish girl who speaks naively of romance and fairytales, without the knowledge of decay and despair,  of how easy it is to crush such silly notions, entering a world she had no right to be in, and he thinks at first: 'she is the first to die'

Of course, she will be. With her kind disposition, that self-sacrificing persona? Foolish girl, she jumps in front of enemies who can break her neck, and crush her throat in a second, without any hesitation - to protect, because she cares so, so much. It's that kind of courage, that one that even if her body is weak, fighting against all odds, she still carries on that knife, with trembling knees, with a grim face. Even the strength to kill someone you love - to protect others? He scoffs at the sheer stupidity of that bravado. It can almost rival the idiocy of that deadlast, in fact.

(and yet, sasuke, sasuke - sasuke always observes, notices that same weakness he sees in her, was identical to his own. he wanted to learn how to do that, the resolve to risk crippling loss and grief. he want to have it again, even as simple as are you ok, sasuke-kun? would you like me to just sit here? i'll be quiet, promise. that trust, that simple fortitude in believing that life might not end that badly, that there is something to look forward to tomorrow, that there will be a good morning, sasuke-kun! after every nightmare he wakes out of.)

For the first time, in the long time, Duty rose from him. Sasuke had something to protect, this pitiful but lion-hearted girl, who might one day can gain that strength to take care of herself. Sasuke will make sure that she’ll live. Sakura became the proof of his improved strength, that he’s not a failure at all. He’s strong enough.

However, it wasn’t enough. His brother arrived, and that changed everything.

Sasuke left, but did not part with a farewell.

(I will see you again. Promise me.)

Today, Sakura is still alive. Without him protecting her back. Standing with him on equal grounds.

(he remembers a night where he and naruto were incapacitated in the midst of a dangerous forest, keeping them alive with her mediocre skills and brave spirit)

He had inflicted her cruelty. He gave her anger. He gave her despair. He gave her heartbreaks and loneliness. He gave her the craving for power. Sasuke had taught her that debilitating sense of weltschmerz, cracking her perception of a perfect world. It is his gift : the truth of reality, for her survival.

But Sakura could have abandoned the life of a shinobi after learning this. She came from a civilian life, lived with a normal, happy family who would gladly accept her even if she gave up and returned back without any effort at all. She can even work as a high-paying medical practitioner to provide for herself.

Sakura did not need to step into the battlefield, to turn herself into a well-honed steel weapon and ivory armor on the frontlines. She did not need to fight and fight till her knuckles crack and become this conflation of sorrow and hope - written all over the shadows beneath her eyes, the broken smiles that takes effort to form on her lips, the stories of hairline scratches on her limbs, the hardened fists that were supposed to be soft to touch.

More so, in return, for all the suffering he had given her, Sakura still loves him. She could have given up on him: from the very first rejection, from his dismissive treatment, from his carefully controlled distance, from his tragedies and blood-thirstiness, to the bouts of terrible temper - all because she believed in Sasuke-kun.

That simple courage to try, and try and try - a consistent yes, I can love you, no matter what you are, sasuke-kun, even after all of the betrayals, of broken plates and wasted apples, of crushed daffodils and reckless embraces, of an unforgiving hand over a neck and a quivering weapon at the back...

Sakura soldiers on, marching with such passion that he could not help but admire her.

This is why he owes her so much, why his thank you was sincere. She gave him the truth of what it meant to be strong, even when weak - and a million of tiny, yet consequential lessons.  

This is why, for all that he had done to her, he'll gave her this small mercy, as he can sense trickles of her lifeforce sluicing in gradual amounts on his chakra pathways, an ancient method of exchanging a medic’s life for a patient.

Sakura will learn in time; of true loss, and incapacitating bereavement.

But not now, not today.

Sasuke takes her wrist, stains the deceivingly fragile thing with blood prints. The light dissipates as she realizes that there is no injury to heal, no wound to close. The war is over, and this hand that held his attention for years (soft skin, gentle touches, scabbing scars, tough calluses, branching heartlines) places it on his chest, rising in every breath, heart beating in response to the silent lapses of her pulse .

Yes, Sasuke will live. He will learn how, and Sakura had always taught him that - and will continue to teach him.

"Sakura."

This time, Sasuke stays.

[7]

"I'm here." (but it can be won)