Ok so not only have I just been SEVERELY COCKBLOCKED but I have also been SEVERELY ATTACKED EMOTIONALLY!!!
To my fellow FiddleStan enjoyers this is the fic that I have just suffered through with a plot twist so big it’ll make your grandmas head spin off! 10/10 it’s fucking amazing and I’m dropping the title to the ones who have not been blessed by this fic yet
Sakura smiled. She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, comfortable in this position. 'I did miss you. But sometimes, it was like you never left.' He raises a brow ever-so-slightly, nudges her side gently. She lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, and her husband can feel the little vibrations coming out of her, as she was so close. 'Your daughter. When she walks, it sounds like you. When she looks at me without those perceptive eyes, I am reminded of you. You were here, every day.'
Sasuke is quiet as he lets this sink in. He concentrates on his wife’s even breathing, the way her fingers trace invisible shapes on his thigh and the way he misses her as if he’s still gone.
He thinks about their daughter and tries to see himself in her. In his memories, he sees her smile and it’s a crooked thing, her lips thin and a pale pink. Her freckles grow darker during the summer, close and tightly knitted on her cheekbones and scattered on her shoulders and arms. During the rest of the year, they’re so pale, they’re nearly invisible. When she laughs, it’s the same breathy wind-chime laugh of her mother’s.
And that is just it.
He can never see himself in Sarada. He sees too much of his wife; that twelve-year old girl he would always protect, the same girl that gradually let her backbone turn into steel, her fists into weapons and her sharp mind into her survival kit.
Sarada is wittier, perhaps a bit more shy and level-headed but she is her mother’s daughter. What she’s inherited of her father are nothing but the soft curving lines that hold her together, like the shore the ocean kisses.
“Hmm,” he hums, taking Sakura’s hand in his and staring at how small it is in his grip. “She’s your daughter. There’s too much you in her to have any space for me.”
“Don’t be silly,” she’s quick to reply, as if expecting his reply. She slips her hand out of his grip to press her palm against his cheek. She pulls away from his shoulder and he already misses her warmth but he turns to her, as she wishes, their eyes locked. “She’s your daughter.”
“Yours,” he tells her. He’s been gone for years while Sakura has raised her alone.
“Ours,” she says and while her tone is playful and soft, it is firm. “Yours and mine. She walks like you and when she concentrates she narrows her eyes in the same way you do.”
“You are so annoying,” he whispers, dipping down, his forehead against hers.
“So is she,” she laughs, her eyes closed and her red-violet lashes look beautiful against her pale skin. “That, she got from me.”
they walked out of the missions office in silence. naruto was still seething, but his hands were no longer clenched into fists, his grimace had softened into a frown. "you fought well for her," ino said gently. naruto turned away. "she's not suitable for a mission like this," he grumbled, "not her. i...i need to protect her." ino could not find it in her to reply, but in her head, the thoughts swirled. (1/2)
given naruto’s reasoning, what made it all right for ino to take this mission to stop by any means necessary an oyabun who dabbled in all matters unsavory? what about her was so distinct from That Woman that she too did not need to be protected, shielded from this excess? “she’s lucky to have you fighting for her,” ino said offhandedly. “we should all be so fortunate.” naruto stopped short. “ino, i—” she stepped away from his reaching hands. “i’ll meet you at the gates tonight.” (2/2)
ino hadn’t initiated a conversation upon meeting up at the gates. surprisingly, naruto hadn’t tried to continue to explain himself. it made the bitterness in her chest steam and boil, made the skin around her eyes grow tight, her jaw ache from the strain of her insistent clenching.
they moved swiftly and quietly through the forest, jumping and swinging from one tree branch to the other. ino concentrated on the darkness ahead, on her mission and what it entailed. on anything but the idiot moving in front of her, too quickly to be eagerness.
they travel for hours, both silent save for their body movements and it’s around four in the morning when she finally decided they needed to stop. she dropped down without a word and quickly found a good place, in between all the trees and away from the main road, to set up camp.
“hey!” he appeared at least seven minutes later. “you could have told me!”
“you could pay attention to your surroundings,” she sneered.
he ran a hand through his messy blond spikes and flops down to the ground. ino took a deep intake of air and tried to find her patience, her calm. there was no point in showing how bitter and infuriated she felt. of course she wasn’t the main girl in his life; she’s never the main girl in any of the boys’ lives. she was just the pit stop.
“hey,” naruto began after silence. “about earlier–”
“that conversation is long over,” she said as she unrolled her sleeping bag and made to go inside her tent.
“no, it wasn’t! i wanted to–it’s just that–she and you…”
“listen here, dead last,” she hissed as she whirled around to stare him down. somewhere behind the resent and anger, she ached for him. those big blue eyes, the way he parted his lips when he was caught off guard. his large tanned hands holding her hips. “don’t you ever think that i would want you to fight for me, the way you seem so ready to fight for her. it’s insulting to my profession. i fight my own battles. keep that in mind.”
she disappeared into her tent, drowned in the darkness and the false heat and let the loss finally infest. it started in her stomach and grew, like a black hole, and sucked everything inside her until she was empty.
"kunoichi have very high risk pregnancies because of the nature of their work, so we take every precaution for their and the fetus's protection, but sakura-san is having a placental abruption, which is extremely dangerous to both mother and baby. we'll do everything in our power to save them both, but... it is likely the fetus will not survive, and sakura-san's body will not be able to bear in the future. and if the baby survives, i'm afraid sakura-san will not. ...we're very sorry, sasuke-san."
they are quiet as they sit at the table. sakura stares down at her miso soup and sasuke merely watches her from across the table.
the silence is comfortable–tense, but comfortable nonetheless.
sasuke concentrates on his steamed rice, on handing sakura lemon and honey for her tea, as she likes it. on anything other than the conversation they’d partook earlier that day.
yet it echoes, in the back of his head. it rings, every word and every syllable. it makes it hard to properly think, makes his concentration on everything else seem futile.
“do you have plans for tomorrow?” he asks, looking up at her through his messy forelocks.
she sets her tea down, lips pressed as she takes her time to swallow the liquid. she reaches for the honey again and sasuke scoots it closer. “not yet.”
“i have a meeting with kakashi and naruto, tomorrow. i don’t think–”
“i am not going to die.”
he grows quiet, jaw clenching shut.
sakura doesn’t look up from her stirring but her expression is challenging, questioning. like she’s wondering if whomever’s challenged her health, her life and her baby is sure of the move they’ve made.
“i won’t,” she repeats. the spoon clatters to the saucer.
sasuke swallows and sits back in his chair, meal half eaten. it all floods back without trouble. he thinks he hates the look in the doctor’s face. he’d have been more at ease if tsunade’d been in the village; she’d speak to them straight to the point and without that look.
he hates pity.
“i’m not going to die,” she says again. she’s rubbing soothing circles on her swollen womb. soft and gentle. she looks beautiful, like that, he tells himself as a means of distraction. points out the obvious, points out what he already knows.
yet she also looks delicate. like she’ll break if she so much inhales. there’s not much change in her, since earlier that day. her hair’s still wavy, growing longer. her eyes are still that inexplicable green. more yellow in one blink, more green in the next, and a hint of silver here.
“neither of us,” she goes on. “no one is dying. this family is going to work. i won’t…” she sucks in air and sasuke tenses for a fraction of a second. “i won’t let…”
“i know,” he tells her and he leans forward until she’s within reach. his fingertips touch her hair and she closes her eyes, gives a nod. “i know.”
they continue to eat in silence.
/
his wife, sasuke knows, dislikes feeling useless. to be a burden is the worst she can become, in her own eyes. she likes to feel useful, likes to have lunch ready, if he has duties to attend to, likes to have the house clean even when he tells her he’ll sweep once he returns.
but, sasuke also knows, his wife is a medic and she knows the complications her pregnancy has delved into. she listens, when he asks her to take it easy, sits when he tells her he’s got it.
she dislikes it, he knows, but she does it anyway.
despite all this, though, sakura’s pains are frequent. her back constantly aches and she pauses from her slow maneuvering around the house, sucks in air and gasps as she tries to find a way for her hand to press against the entirety of her back. as if trying to get a hold of what’s hurting her and pull it out.
sometimes, she sits up in bed and cries out in pain.
“what is it?” he always asks her, alert, mismatched eyes wide and searching. “where–”
“i’m fine,” she always moans, soft and breathy. “just a little ache. it’s dull, really, it’s nothing.”
“sakura.”
“it’s alright,” she always reassures. “i won’t risk our baby’s life. i’ll… i’ll say so, when i can’t take it.”
one day, sasuke returns from the hokage’s office to find sakura on the couch. tears run down her cheeks, her expression pained and her complexion pale.
he’s at her side no later, the door left opened.
“tell me,” he says, his hands touching her arms, moving her hair from her face. “tell me. say it.”
“it hurts,” she sobs. “god, it hurts.” she sucks in air, closes her eyes and tries to breathe. the tears on her cheek dry up. after a few moments of silence she whispers, “it’s okay. i’m okay.”
sasuke looks around the house. there’s a frame on the ground, the glass shattered around it. “sakura, we can’t–”
“it’s dulling. the pain. it’s dulling. i promise,” she looks up at him. “i’m okay. it just caught me off guard.”
he drops everything, after that. no longer will he represent both kakashi and naruto and his plans to restart the police force will end at the stage where they are at. none of it matters, he declares upon being asked.
/
in the mornings, he wakes up and prepares breakfast. he places them in a tray and he brings them to her in bed where he sits and eats with her.
then, he helps her with her necessities. this, though, don’t last long because the pain in her back and abdomen begins to bother her and make it impossible to move.
afterwards, he cleans around the house. he sweeps, he washes dishes, he cleans the counters and he does laundry. all while making sure that his wife is alright.
it’s a routine he quickly falls into and one he does not mind. he likes walking into the room and seeing her read a book. sometimes, she stares out the window, after he’s opened the curtains.
“sasuke-kun?” she whispers one day.
her lips are chapped and there are bags under her eyes. sasuke reaches towards her, moves her hair from where it’s tangled with her lashes.
“the baby hasn’t moved all day,” she tells him. “she kicks a lot. shifts. it makes the pain hurt when she does it.” she licks her lips and rubs her tummy. “but she hasn’t moved. i… i’m really… worried.”
“alright,” he says, making his way towards her. he feels his heartbeat picking up speed, feels his nerves tying into knots. he pushes his thoughts aside, let them infest the darker parts of his mind. “alright. okay. fine. we’re going. now–we’re going now.”
/
sasuke goes to the hospital daily. he brings her fruits and snacks that he knows she’ll like and that are healthy. her favorites, of course, are the red apples.
he stays with her all day, where they talk and make plans about the new life waiting for them. their new house is almost ready, he’s been starting to pack things little by little, to let the nights pass away since he can’t sleep.
“you don’t need to worry,” sakura tells him when he says this. “i’m not going to die.”
“sakura,” he sighs and pauses from the apple he’s peeling. “no one is dying.”
“exactly,” she agrees. “so please… stop worrying so much. you need sleep; you’ve lost some weight. darling, you can’t let this eat you.” she smiles at him. “everything will be alright. this is just… another trial. a small one at that.”
he looks at her, stare steady. the hospital gown washes out the color of her skin and her hair’s grown stringy. she’s probably irritated with it, he thinks. he’ll pull it up into a bun when he finishes with her apple.
“and you… you don’t have to stay here all day.” sakura closes her eyes and looks towards the window. “the police force–”
“can wait.” he stops his task once again to fix his hard stare on her. “sakura…” he sighs. it annoys him when she gets like this; when she switches her worry towards him, as if he’s the one in the hospital on permanent bed rest upon being brought in for bleeding. he exhales softly. “please.”
she licks her lips and looks at him but she nods. she scrunches her nose up when he approaches her, the plate of peeled, sliced apples extended towards her.
“sasuke-kun.” she pauses from sliding the slice of apple to her mouth. she smiles at him before looking away.
sasuke closes his eyes, the faintest of smile directed right at her.
/
she’s crying.
her gasps are loud, straining. she sucks in air through her teeth. her face is sweaty, tears and sweat mingling. where does one start? where does the other end?
“it hurts!”
how long has this process been going?
he can’t breathe. his vision blurs. his head pounds.
“please!” she sobs. “please…” she reaches for him, he gives her his hand without a thought. “sasuke-kun…”
“they’re aiming for natural labor,” he tells her. his voice sounds different. was that him that said it? “just hold on…”
she bites her lower lip, eyes clenched shut as a contraction hits her hard.
not a single thought crosses his mind as he reaches for her forehead, wipes the sweat with his gloved hand. there’s an ache in his chest; it’s where the source of everything is coming from, sasuke knows it.
it’s where his migraine’s come from. it’s what’s making it hard to breathe.
sakura cries out, her hand clenching his.
how long has it been?
“sasuke-san… if we wait any longer, this will only continue to grow more complicated. we’re going to have to–”
“hurry up and do it,” he sneers. rage surfaces for a second and staring at them is all he can do to keep himself from cutting her open himself, pulling their baby out, saving them both.
“sasuke-kun?!”
they’re preparing to wheel her away.
“ah! s-sasuke-kun, what’s–”
he cups her face, presses his forehead to her sweaty one. “they’re going to do it. you’ll be alright. she’ll be alright.” he breathes hard.
“sasuke-san!”
sakura nods, her eyes pink and glassy.
“it’ll be alright,” he tells her again.
“sasuke-san, please!”
sakura reaches up and touches his jaw. a faint little thing that sends a shiver down his spine.
“i won’t die.”
/
he rocks from side to side as he stands near the window. he can’t look away from her, she’s so beautiful.
sasuke ghosts his finger down the tiny slope of her little nose and he thinks: even with her eyes closed, with her little face still so puffy from just being born… she looks just like her. like sakura.
he leans forward, presses his lips to her tiny forehead. he looks around the room, settles his attention towards the hospital bed and kisses his smile to their daughter’s skin.
mama has been working too hard, and neglecting papa's dinner. so papa went to mama's work desk, dips a single fry on a sea of deep, rich red. mama stops from her paperwork, blinks as she follows the progress of his fingers. she swallows nervously when he puts the one end of the sturdy fried potato in b/w his teeth, and hovers it on the top of her lips.
and then mama puts the other tip in her mouth and she and papa are staring at each other in the eye. no one moves for a while but then mama is bold and takes a bite off the fry so she moves closer to papa’s face.
papa makes a weird noise in his throat before he takes a bite too. and suddenly they’re closer so the tips of their noses are touching. and as if it couldn’t get any worse, papa does it again and he’s going to do it once more before mama does it first so now their lips are touching and they’re kissing.
sarada scoots up to the edge of the couch, hops off and hurries away. there’s more fries and more ketchup. she doesn’t want to see this.
"stop," sasuke protested weakly when his wife licked the dripping trail of ketchup from a fatty, french fry. in public. "that"
sakura fluttered her lashes at him, lips pursed in an appealing way. sasuke glared at her, hoping his gulp was quiet enough so she wouldn’t hear.
he inhales deeply, stares away so he could gather himself. swallowing hard one last time, he turned back to her, his eyes locking with hers.
she smiles at him, slow and seductive so it can all go down to his groin. and then she takes an aggressive bite off the french fry, so quickly and without warning, sasuke shifts and grabs himself, suddenly in pain.
"take my daughter and run," mama tells the clones. sarada catches her eyes as the lab begins to crumble. she opens her mouth to apologize and remind her that she loves her, but sarada chokes, guilty and worthy. "get out of here now!" mama yells. the clones react immediately and sarada finds herself being dragged towards an exit. "no!" she shouts, trying to fight them off. but they're strong and there are too many and before she can call for mama, the ceiling caves in over her and the enemy.
“mama!” sarada claws at their grips, ignores the way they look at her with wide eyes, no expressions on their face. “mama! mama, i’m sorry! i–i was so stupid, mama, please…” the last of the rubble falls, small pieces of rock sliding down like a makeshift avalanche.
sarada suddenly can’t breathe no matter how hard she heaves. she stares at what once was, eyes searching, heart hoping for there to be some movement, someone rising up. mama…
“i’m so sorry,” she whispers, going limp in the clones’ hold. “i take it all back…. mama, i take it all back… please…”
all that time… wasted. those hours and days and weeks drowning in doubt… she could have spent them with her. she could have helped her hang up the laundry, cut apples for her, play with her hair and listen to her talk because mama’s voice is (was) gentle and kind.
biting her lower lip she shoves her way free, running to the debris and dropping to her knees hard enough to hurt, to open skin and bleed.
“mama!” she claws at the wreckage, pulls and shoves with all her might. “mama! mama!”
