The recent installation of motion-activated light sensors across UA caused more chaos that Class 2-A originally intended.
They activated off at the drop of a hat, literally. When Jirou suggested blaming the hypersensitive lights on a fabled rock ghost, the oversensitive lights suddenly weren't as worrisome. They quickly became another quirk of dorm life — like the stolen snacks and shower sandals and soft snores that echoed through the walls at night.
It was all in good fun.
Until it wasn't.
Izuku looked up as the hall light clicked on again, pencil clenched tightly in his grip.
“Bet'cha one answer that there’s someone in the hall this time,” Ochako said, not giving Izuku a chance to respond before bounding from her bed to the doorway. He lurched from his seat as Uraraka poked her head into the hall, heart lodged somewhere in his throat. It was dumb. There was no reason for him to this worked up over wonky electricity connections, but—
“Aw, man. No one again,” Uraraka whined dramatically, wilting against the door frame. She recovered quickly — spinning around and clapping her hands enthusiastically — but the tightness around her eyes belied her mutual unease. “So! Stuck on anything?”
Izuku let Uraraka snatch his physics homework without resistance, mind still somewhere in the hallway.
When all was said and done, everyone agreed that the automatic lights in the 2-A dormitory hallways and staircases were a terrible idea.
A conclusion made only more painful by the fact that the students themselves had advocated for their installation. It was a trivial thing to get up in arms about, in retrospect. UA certainly had the funding to keep all their buildings lit, if their ever increasing defenses were any indication, but Kaminari gave a presentation on the widespread effects of commercial energy waste one day, and it snowballed from there.
The widespread negligence horrified Class 2-A into action. Maybe they were nosy Hero students. Maybe, as a generation, they were particularly sensitive to letting issues fester these days. Maybe they were bored. In the end, it didn't matter. They cared, suddenly and ferociously, about driving down UA's contribution to the issue. The presentation kicked off two months of research, campaigns, and presentations to Board members that culminated in the installation of over five hundred motion activated light sensors across the entirety of UA's campus.
And they worked!
...for the most part.
Because of the range of Quirks and body types UA catered to, the motion sensors the school purchased were designed with an extremely low limit of detection. The good news was the sensors were as sensitive as advertised. Hagakure boasted she was able to activate the hall lights wearing nothing but a pair of bangle bracelets. Questions as to when or why Hagakure conducted such experiments were neatly and summarily dodged.
The bad news was that the lights were as sensitive as advertised.
“I think you’re off by a factor of two here somewhere.” Uraraka tapped his homework, drawing Izuku back from his musings. He blinked, then focused on the scrawl of equations under Uraraka's fingertip.
Ah. This question.
“Really?” He’d been so confident in his workflow. “What’d you get?”
“Fourteen.” She offered him her notebook so he could look over her work. His eyes bounced between the two papers.
It surprised him at first. For someone so cute, he'd expected Uraraka's handwriting to be…neater. Not that he could talk. Iida was perpetually annoyed with them both. Anyway, he had enough practice reading her handwriting that he could tell their work was identical right up until…
“Ugh,” Izuku groaned, dragging the eraser over the second half of his work. “I totally did.” But fourteen was a weird answer for this problem, considering the — aha. “You forgot to account for the acceleration, though.”
“Acceleration?” She frowned, more at her notebook than him, then leaned over the desk to read the problem out of his open textbook.
“I forgot gravity!”
He snorted. This recurring problem for Uraraka — common enough that it'd become something of an inside joke among the class — was even more entertaining considering her Quirk.
“Oh hush,” Uraraka huffed, puffing out her cheeks in annoyance. It only made her look cuter, though Izuku had no intention of telling her. She snapped her notebook closed and spun on her heel to stomp back to her bed. “No more physics help for you!”
“I could say the same thing,” he found himself teasing back. Everything was easier with Uraraka.
Light vanished from the hallway, darkening Ochako’s doorway once more. Both students’ attention immediately flicked to it, the sudden darkness, searching for an answer that never appeared. The easy atmosphere vanished entirely, vacuumed up as if the inky blackness waiting just outside the door was the void of space itself.
Ridiculous to think that two Heroes in training could be shaken so quickly. They’d argued for this. They’d fought for these dark hallways because it felt like the right thing to do, but … this wasn’t right. Unease dripped down his spine like a continuous shiver, and Izuku couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t safe to turn his back on the hallway. He didn’t miss the way Uraraka’s jaw clenched, either.
The darkness itself wasn't the issue. Izuku knew these halls well enough to navigate them without a flicker of light as his guide, they all did, but it served as an insistent reminder of the mysteries lurking just out of sight.
After all, three different electricians spent a week on site, and none of them found any issues with the lights. As far as anyone could tell, everything was wired perfectly.
“Koda thinks insects could be triggering the lights,” Izuku offered, still watching the doorway. “Not flies or anything, but — like, moths and spiders.” It would certainly explain the number of times he’d watched a light click on — in the stairwell, in the hallway — only for no one to appear around the corner.
“I like that better’n Mina’s theory, anyway.” Uraraka abandoned her homework and wrapped her arms loosely around her knees. “Why would a new construction have ghosts?”
Izuku chuckled, but it felt hollow. He couldn’t quite summon the same amusement from earlier. “Wouldn’t someone had to have died here…?”
“Exactly!” Uraraka exclaimed, pointing at him like he’d made her point for her. “Why would a ghost start hauntin’ UA now all the sudden?”
They launched into an avid discussion of the reasons Mina’s theory was ridiculous. UA had never suffered rumors of hauntings, even as long lived as the campus was, and it wasn’t like the school was built on a cemetery or anything. Probably. And anyway, why would a ghost start haunting them months after construction was finished? They raised and countered every argument they could think to offer with a single-minded focus that undermined their dismissiveness. Neither stopped to consider why they were both so determined to disprove this explanation in particular. They ignored the creeping sensation that peeked its head up and hummed, Something here is not quite right.
A Game of Puzzles (Making the Pieces Fit) Chapter 3
Summary: With the war over and Sasuke home again, Sakura is more hopeful for Team 7’s future than she has been in a long time. She’s quickly disappointed to find that nothing in the Village fits quite like it used to—not her old bedroom, not her clothes, and definitely not Team 7. Join Sakura as she scrambles to understand her place in this new team dynamic.
If she has a place there at all.
-OR-
It takes three dorks a painfully long time after moving in together to realize that they all belong together.
"Sakura-chaaaaaan!" a familiar voice echoes down the halls of the hospital.
The medics shadowing her do their best to stifle their giggles, or at least try to pass them off as a sudden bout of coughs, but their amusement is clear.
"That's all for now," Sakura declares, doing her best to ignore the knowing looks being passed back and forth like candy. The flush that rises to her cheeks is inescapable. "It looks like I'm needed in a last minute meeting."
No attempts are made to conceal their laughter now. Sakura graces them with a self-deprecating half-smile before departing from the group. Naruto's voice bounces off the walls again, and Sakura rolls her eyes fondly—heels clacking rapidly against tile floors as she picks up her pace. He's lucky she just wrapped up her examination.
"What kind of idiot yells in a hospital?" she shouts, fully aware of the hypocrisy of the statement. Answering Naruto any other way just feels lackluster. And anyway, this is her domain. Surely she can bend the rules on special occasions.
"Sakura!" He sounds even closer now. Sure enough, he rounds the corner a second later.
Any pretense of annoyance pops and fizzles out like a dispersed clone the moment Sakura lays eyes on him. A rosy tint covers all Naruto's exposed skin—a testament to the long hours spent away from them under the powerful summer sun. He's home. Excitement drives her forward, faster than she would normally condone for a place of healing.
Seeing her coming, Naruto stops his approach and braces himself instead. Open arms beckon and spur her forward, and Sakura doesn't try to resist their call. Hospital walls blur around her as she sprints the last twenty feet separating them, flinging herself into his waiting arms with approximately none of the decorum the Head of Hospital should possess.
Naruto grunts on impact but doesn't buckle. Instead he transfers her momentum into centripetal force, spinning her 'round and 'round in his arms like a couple of lovestruck teens. Sakura buries her face in his neck, allowing herself to breath him in and bask in the solid feel of him under her arms. Alive and unharmed. Maybe she deserves a free pass on this one.
All good things must eventually end, and this moment is no exception. Naruto slows them down, allowing Sakura's feet to float closer to the ground on every turn. Reality catches up to them when her heels click down onto the bleached tiles. Murmurs of the random nurse or medic in the hall reach her ears, and Sakura takes a moment to brush the imaginary lint off her lab coat. Now that she remembers people other than Naruto exist, Sakura's thankful they didn't knock anyone over with their antics.
The smug eyes following her promise not to let her forget this. Oh well.
Sakura clears her throat self-consciously and playfully slugs Naruto on the remaining portion of his arm. That's normal, right? "When did you get in? Konohamaru was supposed to let me know when you reached the gates."
"Ahhh, I might have convinced him to 'forget' to do that." At her raised eyebrow, he ducks his head and scratches the back of his head. "Wanted to surprise you."
Cute.
"It was a nice surprise."
Naruto's smile widens. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Sakura confirms, "But I didn't have time to clear my schedule. I have one meeting I can't miss and a couple more patients to see before I can leave."
"You were going to cut out early for me?" he asks incredulously, "Usually it takes the act of a God to pry you out of here."
"Does not," she counters without heat. Sakura's willing to bet Naruto turns into just as much of a workaholic once he's wearing the hat. There's so much that needs to get done to keep Konoha moving forward. Knowing her work/life balance sucks and actually taking a step back are two entirely separate things. "Anyway, I'm still cutting out early. Just not as early as I wanted to." Speaking of—
Sakura's eyes dart to the clock close to the nurse's station before wincing. Six minutes is barely enough time to cross six floors before the meeting covering the funding for clinical trials the coming quarter starts. Normally this would be Administrative Sakura's domain, but her clone is swamped reviewing construction plans for the Hospital addition. Clinical trials for ninja products, like safer soldier pills, also happen to be something she's passionate about. If she can't design the experiments, she at least wants to ensure they're properly funded.
"Gotta run?" Naruto guesses when Sakura turns to him.
"Yep," she says, already backing away, "but I'll see you at home? Three hours tops."
"I'll hold you to that!" Naruto threatens with a smile.
By some miracle Sakura hasn't tripped over anything or anyone as she walks backwards, keeping a waving Naruto in her sights for as long as she can manage. It's so good to see him again. Still, Sakura knows she's pushing her luck. Waving goodbye to her teammate one last time, Sakura turns around to begin her race to the conference room in earnest.
It's not until Sakura's three floors down that she remembers Sasuke. Shit. He definitely deserves a heads up that Naruto is back in town. Now, how can she get the message to him without leaving the hospital...?
There's a nurses' station thirty feet up this hallway, but Sakura dismisses the idea as quickly as it occurs. Adding a personal chore to the nurses' already stacked plates would be incredibly rude—and unprofessional to boot.
The countdown in her head reminds her she has less than four minutes to solve this issue and get to her meeting before it starts. Times like this, Sakura wishes she had picked up a second summon. Lady Katsuya is the perfect compliment to her medical techniques, but slugs are pretty much incapable of delivering messages.
Three minutes. Crap.
Sakura makes for the emergency staircase, checking her chakra levels as she goes. About 40% left, and if she plans on leaving early—Sakura runs through calculations double time. She can spare 10% for a second clone.
She shucks her bright red heels and leans over the railing to make sure she's not about to land on anyone. The stairwell looks clear. Just in case, Sakura tosses a warning "heads up!" over the metal barrier before vaulting it herself. Cushioning her landing with chakra saves her joints, but the cement pays the price. Her hastily reapplied heel makes this discovery, catching in the newly formed crack and nearly sending her sprawling. Great. She'll have to put in a requisition to have that fixed.
It's a necessary sacrifice. Sakura wraps up the hand signs for her messenger clone just as the conference room door comes into view. Messenger Sakura pops into existence, throws up a lazy “victory” sign, and does an abrupt 360 towards their apartment. Hopefully no one tries to stop her on the way—her clone won't have the chakra to help with any emergency situations.
No time to worry about it.
Running a hand through her hair, Sakura squares her shoulders and strides into the conference room. Every head swivels towards her. The absolute attention she now commands still makes her uneasy, but she manages to keep her head high as she crosses the room.
Sakura slides into her seat as the synchronized hospital clocks chime to announce the top of the hour.
Just in time.
"Thank you for joining, everyone," she says, laying her arms on the table. "As you all know, our goal today is to allocate funding to the six applicants for the upcoming quarter. Natsuo has summarized the information for the proposed clinical trials on the handouts in front of you, so if you'll direct your attention to the first page…"
After a series of unexpected events, Izuku Midoriya finds himself the owner of a pack of glow in the dark ceiling stars. What he'd really like is to give them to Uraraka—the energetic, determined, sweet classmate he's lucky enough to call his friend--but he's new to this whole friendship thing and utterly terrified he's about to screw it all up at any given moment.
But when Uraraka has a bad day, Izuku psyches himself up to lend his shoulder. Heroes put themselves out on a limb to help people everyday, afterall—surely friendship is no different.
It all starts because Izuku’s procrastinating.
There’s no reason for him to linger in the convenience store any longer, but he continues to meander with the lazy gait this Saturday afternoon demands. The protein drink he came in for is already clenched in one hand, condensation dripping down the side. A matcha energy drink he definitely doesn’t need but is curious enough to try is secured in the other.
Instead of hurrying back to his homework, Izuku lets himself gravitate to the card display set up on the aisle’s end cap. Sometimes stores like this discount old card packs to ridiculously cheap prices. When that happens, he doesn’t feel as guilty treating himself to a couple. The odds that the they’ll contain any of the five he still needs to complete his All Might collection are infinitesimally small—and that really only pertains to two, because the others were limited edition prints that either weren’t sold in sets or weren’t printed in Japan—but other Heroes have cool cards he wouldn’t mind adding to his collection.
If nothing else, looking at different art styles is fun.
All the visible packs are full price, unfortunately. One metal hook has fallen off the peg board it was secured to, spilling dozens of sets onto the shelf beneath. Izuku tucks his energy drink into the crook of his elbow so he has a free hand to put it back in place.
None of them are marked down. After hanging the seventeenth pack, Izuku has pretty much given up hope, but he persists, uncomfortable with the idea of leaving a task uncompleted now that he's started.
“There.” He slides the last set home and steps back, partly to admire his handiwork but mostly to ensure he hasn’t missed any, and—yep. Sure enough, there’s a familiar holographic shine around the corner.
As he’s bending to gather the discarded items, he spots them.
He’s not sure why they catch his attention. There’s nothing particularly special about them, and their aged, cracked bag suggests he wouldn’t be the first to overlook them, either. But the plastic stars tickle something deep in his brain, so he squats down for a closer look.
One of the staples holding the label in place rips free as he picks it up. Only Izuku's quick reaction time saves the tiny stars from scattering across the linoleum tiles like a discount galaxy. They’re an off-white color, tinged with faint traces of green like most things manufactured to glow are, and the printed description confirms his suspicions.
Super Stars, the creased cardstock boasts, 200 glow in the dark stars +1 bonus moon!
“Uraraka would love these,” Izuku murmurs with a smile, and suddenly he knows exactly why this beat-up bag of ceiling adhesives caught his attention.
It’s not that he’s thinking about her constantly, because that would be creepy, but Izuku’s forced to admit that Ochako Uraraka crosses his mind at least once a day. Maybe two. Okay, maybe a couple more than that, but not in a weird way! She's not the focus of his thoughts, but he's very...aware... of her.
They're friends.
As far as he can gather from Ashido, they're probably best friends, but saying that feels presumptuous because it's not like they've talked about it, and just because she's his best friend doesn't mean he's her best friend. Besides, she hangs out with Asui almost as much as she does him, and he can't talk about "girl stuff" like she can, so Asui probably has him beat there.
The thought makes him sadder than it has any right to. It's amazing that she's his friend at all; he shouldn't get hung up on whether or not he gets to be her best friend. If he absolutely needs a special title, Izuku can call her his first friend. Well, okay, technically his first friend was Kaachan, but they're more rivals than friends, so maybe he can call her his first real friend?
Yeah. Ochako Uraraka is his first real friend. That's not something anyone can take away from him.
The satisfaction he feels quickly fades, and Izuku groans, letting his head fall onto the sweaty lid of his protein drink. No one can steal 'first real friend' from him, but it's also kinda...pathetic? It feels clingy.
Which brings him back to the star dilemma.
He'd really like to get them for her. They'd go great with the constellation poster in her room, and he thinks they’d make her smile, but he's not sure getting them from him would make her smile. Because random gifts from friends are weird, right? The last thing he wants to do is make her uncomforta—
"Sir, I was thinking about closing up the shop for a late lunch, so if you're ready I could—oh! You picked up the cards!”
Izuku squeaks, surprised by the shopkeeper's sudden appearance. His energy drink tumbles to the ground, but he manages to keep hold of the bag.
"Yes! Uh, let me—just, um, grab this—" His face is bright red as he chases the runaway can down the aisle. Clumsy. He has to pay better attention to his surroundings. "Sorry for keeping you waiting!"
"Don't worry about it!" The clerk insists, scooping up the two foil packs Izuku came over for in the first place. "I didn't realize you were picking these up—you actually saved me time," he laughs. His brows narrow slightly in thought before continuing, "You want one of these packs? My treat for letting me rush you out of here."
"Oh, um, thanks! But...uh, I was actually just looking for All Might packs."
"Mmm, we don't have any, unfortunately—can't keep anything All Might branded in stock these days!" The clerk looks disheartened until he spots the stars. "Well, what about those?"
"You don't have to do that," Izuku protests, "I'm not even sure I wanted—"
"I insist." The clerk skillfully herds him towards the register. "They've been on the shelf forever, anyway." His drinks are rung up and in a plastic bag with the stars before he can stammer out another word. "Was just about to mark them down again, believe it or not. Really, you're doing me a favor."
"Well, okay." Short of reaching over the counter and unbagging the stars himself, there's not much he can do anyway. The card reader beeps as Izuku pays, and he punches in his PIN quickly. "Um, thank you then!"
"Thank you!" The shopkeeper corrects, handing over his receipt and purchases."Have a nice afternoon!"
The door barely shuts behind him before Izuku hears the deadbolt twist home. He sighs, trying to disperse the anxious energy that built up in the last few minutes. It works better on the second attempt; his shoulders actually relax enough to come down from their place at his ears.
Still he's left with a question—several, actually, but they boil down to this:
Why Do You Feel So Close (But You’re Oh So Far Away?)
Major manga spoilers in this fic
Rescue missions aren’t the sprint that combat missions are, Ochako is quickly learning. Rescue missions are a marathon. And, yes, time is still an important factor, but on her track, endurance—of her body, of her mind, of her spirit—reigns supreme.
The fact of the matter is, Ochako's tired. She's tired, on so many levels, but mostly she's tired of this limbo. Her life is on hold. No matter how she chooses to fill her time, Ochako knows she's just biding time: waiting for another attack, waiting for the cities to be put back together again, waiting for school to start.
Waiting for Deku to wake up.
—x—Day 1—x—
"Oh Deku," Ochako breathes, taking in the sight of the boy before her.
Visiting Izuku in the hospital isn’t a new experience, but he’s truly outdone himself this time. Thick, white plaster encases each of his limbs. Even if he was conscious, Ochako thinks Deku would struggle to move the heavy weights. That's probably the reason for the pulley system keeping each appendage suspended off the mattress. Either that, or the medical staff doesn’t want to put any more stress on his shattered bones.
Ochako's stomach, already sensitive from a full day of using her Quirk, rolls. Why does it always end like this? Too much first-hand experience with Deku's injuries means she doesn't have to imagine the damage hiding underneath the plaster. Flashbacks of blackened flesh and the unstructured movement of boneless arms parade through her head like a horrifying slideshow.
It's the USJ all over again. It's the summer training camp. UA's entrance exam. Their first Hero training—Stain.
Why does it always end up like this?
No matter what choice she makes. No matter how she tries to help him, somehow Ochako always ends up...here. Standing in front of Deku's hospital bed.
She's tried to support him.
She's tried to save him.
She's tried to stand beside him.
She's tried to hold him back.
She's tried to trust him.
But still…? Still this. Still standing in this acoustic tile room that smells like dead flowers and antiseptics. Still listening to the insistent electronic beeping and counting breaths. Still absolutely powerless to keep him safe.
The worst part is Ochako can't even be mad at him. She understands why he did it. Her first proud moment as a hero wasn't the result of a conscious decision. Seeing Deku writhe in pain during their match with 1-B—Ochaku just moved. Pure instinct drove her forward to protect him from hurting himself. Long before she had any plan on how to make that reality, Ochako was airborne.
And, yeah. Maybe it was reckless. Those charged black whips were a completely new phenomena at that point—a variable that could have panned out badly for both of them. But Ochako looks back at that memory and smiles because—that's it. That's what it feels like to have no regrets. To know that she may have put herself in harm's way, but her actions made a difference for someone else.
And Deku has made a difference.
It's easy to miss from the outside. In the aftermath, in the hospital, most people see an injured first year and shake their head. Rash, they think. Careless. Another young boy drowning in the deep end.
Maybe there's a kernel of truth in that. Maybe Deku has taken on more than he can handle. If that's true, though, it's only because he could see others buckling under the strain. Because Deku looked at a situation with that brilliant, tactical mind of his and thought, I might not win, but I can help.
How can Ochako not find that inspiring?
Heroes step up when there's a need, they've been taught. Well, it turns out that sweet, stammering Deku has a spine of steel to go with that heart of gold. Armed with an unyielding moral compass and double-edged Quirk, he's proven more than ready to rise to every challenge thrown this way. It’s amazing. He’s amazing. And as scary as it can be to watch Deku shatter against his upper limits, watching him chase his dream of becoming the Number One Hero has pushed motivated Ochako into her own Plus Ultra moment more than once.
But, even still…
...Ochako just wishes Deku didn't see himself as such an acceptable sacrifice. He matters. It matters that Deku is destroying his body for them. It matters that he's laying here in this damn full-body cast.
Tears escape onto her checks. Ochako lets them fall unhindered. Deku, of all people, would understand the need to cry right now. Her chest is full, tight, with a mess of contradicting emotions. She's proud of him. She's furious with him.
She's terrified.
If this isn't the first time, then logic says it won't be the last, either. There will come another night that Ochako stands at the foot of his bed and wonders how many more times can his body take this abuse?
How many more times will Deku get back up?
A soft knock sounds on the door before it creaks open slowly. Ochako hiccups in surprise. Drawing the back of her hand across her nose, she hastily tries to piece herself back together for whoever has just walked in.
"Young Uraraka?" A large, warm hand lands on her shoulder. All Might. "The hospital staff just informed me that visiting hours are over. You should go get some rest."
"R-right!" Ochako’s voice sounds thick even to her, so she tries again. "I'll go—I'll go do that, then."
Moving slowly to give her stiff muscles a chance to wake up, Ochako makes her way to the door. Once there, she can’t resist pausing to look back at Deku one more time. The slow rise and fall of his chest is the only solace she can take from his broken and bruised form. Ochako’s hand tightens on the doorframe, lips drawing into a thin line. She hates this.
“Young Uraraka.”
Ochako’s gaze snaps from her friend to the emaciated man standing next to him. Electric blue eyes burn intensely from within their sunken depths. She instinctively draws herself up taller under his gaze.
“Young Midoriya will get back up,” he promises in a voice that rings with the power and conviction of the former Number One Hero. “I have full confidence he'll come out the other side of this experience as well."
As well. Because this is far from the first time Deku has been bed-bound in a hospital. The thought leaves a bitter taste on her tongue, but Ochako manages a wane smile around it anyway. The amount of confidence All Might has in Deku is heartening. It takes a special kind of person—a special kind of hero—to catch the eye of the former Symbol of Peace. Does Deku know how much faith his idol has in him?
It feels necessary to answer a declaration like that with one of her own. She nods sharply at her teacher and lets the hard-edge of her determination shine through her eyes.
A Game of Puzzles (Making the Pieces Fit) Chapter 2
Summary: With the war over and Sasuke home again, Sakura is more hopeful for Team 7’s future than she has been in a long time. She’s quickly disappointed to find that nothing in the Village fits quite like it used to—not her old bedroom, not her clothes, and definitely not Team 7. Join Sakura as she scrambles to understand her place in this new team dynamic.
If she has a place there at all.
-OR-
It takes three dorks a painfully long time after moving in together to realize that they all belong together.
It takes six months for Sasuke’s trial to finally be settled.
They’ve been barred from attending the trial themselves—for apparently being too disruptive to the court process—so Naruto and Sakura are waiting at the base of the court steps when Sasuke comes blinking out into sunlight for the first time since he was locked away. He pauses, giving his eyes time to adjust, and that’s long enough for his team to decide that no handcuffs is good news. They barrel into him, crushing him into a hug on either side.
Sasuke scoffs like he can’t believe how ridiculous they are, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I’m on probation for a year,” he tells them quietly. Sakura feels the words rumble through his chest, and his heartbeat is tapping a steady pace against her cheek. Sasuke is home, he’s actually in her arms, and the realization brings a rush of relief that unlocks something deep in her soul. The next breath she sucks in expands her ribcage farther than she thought was possible, but so does the one after that, and Sakura has to wonder if she’s been holding her breath since the moment Sasuke left her on that cold stone bench years ago. If this is what it feels like to be whole.
Love. It has to be. She still loves him.
“What does that mean, exactly?” Naruto asks, voice wet.
She’s always known that Naruto cared for Sasuke just as much as she does, but hearing the tears in his voice cause them to well up in her eyes. He deserves this moment, he really does. After years of searching, chasing, and coming up empty, Naruto finally has something to show for his herculean efforts. They had him, for one tantalizing moment after the war. But the remnants of their arms had barely scabbed over before Sasuke was ripped out of their grasp for six months in captivity that Sakura honestly doesn’t want to contemplate. It felt like such a hollow victory at the time, wondering if that moment was the only one they would ever have, but now they have another.
They just have to trust that this is a beginning this time.
“I’m essentially on house arrest for three months,” Sasuke says eventually. “I can’t leave the village for another six. If, after that, I haven’t killed anyone or been caught undermining any of the great nations, I can start going on missions again.”
Sakura winces. It sounds lenient, but it’s not uncommon for a shinobi to be in a different village each week. Being stuck in the village for nine months will start to grate. Sasuke is going to be miserable. Still, the memories of Five Great Nations clamoring for Sasuke’s head on a stake are too close for comfort. It could have been so much worse.
“And in an effort to re-socialize me,” Sasuke adds sourly, preventing Sakura’s mind from wandering down the thorny path of “what-ifs” she’s been known to get lost on, “I have to get a roommate.”
At this, Sakura finally pulls away far enough to be able to look Sasuke in the eyes. They’re not the same shade of charcoal that she remembers, and she hates to think that it’s been long enough for her memory to warp.
A Game of Puzzles (Making the Pieces Fit) Chapter 4
Summary: With the war over and Sasuke home again, Sakura is more hopeful for Team 7’s future than she has been in a long time. She’s quickly disappointed to find that nothing in the Village fits quite like it used to—not her old bedroom, not her clothes, and definitely not Team 7. Join Sakura as she scrambles to understand her place in this new team dynamic.
If she has a place there at all.
-OR-
It takes three dorks a painfully long time after moving in together to realize that they all belong together.
It’s the first time Sakura remembers October 10th ever being this...jovial.
The streets are always crowded this time of year, but the laughter seems oddly out of place. Gone are the mournful monochromatic clothes she’s used to. Everything she looks at—the clothes, the storefronts, the people—is so bright she has to work to avoid squinting.
“Oooh, Sakura, look, there’s a dango stand!”
Brightest of all is Naruto. He’s actually wearing less orange than usual, having been convinced into a pair of dark tan pants, but his expression more than makes up for the loss. Each street vendor and colored lantern is taken in with equal amounts of awe. He looks like a kid at his first birthday party, which…
...it’s a painfully accurate description. Sakura tries not to think about it.
“Didn’t you just eat like five bowls of ramen?” she teases. Naruto opens his mouth and closes it, looking for an excuse, but Sakura elbows him lightly in the side. “Just kidding, let’s go grab some. I heard they were going to add a new flavor today, too.”
Naruto’s eyes widen comically. “For me? Really?”
“Of course it’s for you,” Sasuke cuts in from behind them. Walking three across really isn’t possible in these crowds, but, like most genin teams, Team 7 feels most comfortable navigating public spaces in a loose triangle formation. “It’s not like Konoha has anything else to celebrate today, right?”
The pointed question isn’t lost on Naruto, who visibly deflates. Sakura spins to glare at Sasuke and catches a flash of a frown as his gaze drops to the pavement. It’s not Naruto that Sasuke is annoyed with, but that’s exactly who he’s hurting with his bitterness. It doesn’t take much for Naruto to swing to extreme sadness when he’s this happy, which Sasuke knows. She had hoped he would mind his temper today.
“Hey.” Sakura draws Naruto’s hand into hers and gives him her best smile. “Why don’t you take Mr. Killjoy and find a spot to sit for a bit. I’ll bring the dango over, okay?”
Naruto’s smile starts small, but quickly grows as she holds his hand.
“Yeah, I’ll keep him out of trouble,” he agrees, “Could you grab a couple different flavors?”
“As many as I can carry,” she assures him. Sakura sends one last pleading look at Sasuke before they disappear. She’s pretty sure he rolls his eyes at her, which isn’t exactly a promise to behave, but it does mean that he got the message. Probably. Hopefully.
Once Naruto is out of view, Sakura takes a quick second to get her emotions back in check. Sasuke’s right. The Village’s abrupt one eighty in its treatment of Naruto grates her nerves if she lets herself think about it for too long. They’d gone from disdain to reverence in the span of six months. Technically this is a festival celebrating the end of the war, but there’s been a fair amount of Uzumaki branded treats and well-wishes from strangers as well.
At least she had apologized.
A couple deep breaths later, Sakura’s pushing through the crowds towards the stand. There’s a line forming, but the vendor calls Sakura forward as soon as he sees her. Embarrassed, Sakura ducks her head in a small apology to the people in line as she moves past them. She doesn’t want to make more of a scene than she already is, and she really wants to get back to her team as soon as she can.
“Could I get two Hanami dango, a mitarashi dango, and a”—she cranes her neck to get a better look at the name of the new flavor from the poster on the side of the cart—“and one Uzumaki dango, please?”
“Absolutely! Would you like a Team 7 dango as well?”
“Oh!” There’s nothing about a Team 7 dango on the sign. Is that actually a thing? Did he make that up when he saw her? “Um, yes, please. Thank you.”
By the time Sakura’s done counting out her coins, the dango are being shoved towards her. She scrambles to put her money pouch away and grab her sweets without holding up the line any longer. Four of the dango end up in one hand while a white, pink, and orange dango ends up in the other. It takes her a second to realize that this is supposed to be the Team 7 dango. The anger kicks in a second later.
To be fair to the vendor, she’s never actually seen blue dango before. Then again, she’s never seen a red habanero dango before today, and that’s definitely one of the flavors on the Uzumaki stick. Choosing the white dango for Kakashi feels like a dig at Sasuke. Sakura bites the orange dumpling off the stick and chews furiously. There. Now it just looks like a partially eaten Hanami dumpling.
That “Team 7” roll better not be on the actual menu. For the vendor’s sake.
Sakura finds Naruto and Sasuke sitting on top of one of the tables in an eating area, of all places. She has no idea who’s idea that was. It’s an extremely rude thing to do with so many people looking for seats, but Sakura doesn’t really want to be joined by the type of people who are deterred by her teammates’ antics right now.
Naruto spots her first and starts waving wildly—as if she could have missed the pair of them. Sasuke turns to see who has caught Naruto’s attention. When he recognizes her, he pulls one of his legs off the bench and onto the table so she’ll have a place to sit. Naruto follows his lead, pulling both his feet off the bench and into a criss-cross position. So they were trying to deter people from sitting with them.
She’s not even mad.
“One mitarashi dango, one hanami dango, and one Uzumaki dango,” she declares, handing over her loot. Naruto cheers, promptly digging into the hanami stick as soon as it’s in his hand. He’s two dumplings deep before Sakura’s even fully seated.
Sasuke’s eyebrow raises as she nibbles on her own dango. “You got two hanami dango for yourself?”
Busted.
“Uh, one of them is for you?” she tries. At Sasuke’s unimpressed expression, she relents, “Fine. Yes, I got two hanami for myself.” He still looks skeptical for some reason, so she tries for classic misdirection, “You might actually want to try the red dumpling from the Uzumaki dango, though, I’m pretty sure it’s spicy.”
“It is?” Naruto pauses his munching on the mitarashi stick to take a bite of the red dumpling before recoiling immediately. “Ack—it is! Why is it spicy?”
Sakura laughs. “I think the colors represent your family. The orange and yellow are pretty self-explanatory, so the red is probably for your mom. For the Uzumaki hair, I’m guessing. I don’t know why they didn’t choose cherry or something, though—that would have gone better with the rest of the flavors.”
“Her nickname was the ‘Red-hot Habanero,’ so that’s probably it,” Naruto explains, his smile dimming. It’s Sasuke’s turn to glare at her, and she winces, appropriately abashed. She always manages to stick her foot in her mouth when the conversation turns to parents. “Anyway, you should try it, Sasuke. It’s not sweet, like, at all, so I bet you’ll like it.”
Sakura figures the odds are skewed sixty/fourty in favor of Sasuke rejecting the offer, but Sasuke doesn’t actually say anything at all. Instead he bends down and bites the rest of the dumpling right off the stick that Naruto’s holding. Some of the drizzling sauce clings to his lower lip, and his tongue darts out quickly to wipe it clean.
She’s not even the one holding the stick, but Sakura is absolutely certain her heart fucking stutters to a stop at the sight. Poor Naruto looks appropriately shocked. His lips are parted in a gentle “o” of surprise, and his eyes are, dare she say it, looking a little glazed over. He rallies quickly, though, shoving the rest of the Uzumaki stick right under Sasuke’s nose.
“Try the orange one next!”
“Ugh, no.” It’s Sasuke’s turn to recoil. “That one probably is sweet, dumbass.”
"Come on," Naruto wheedles,"Just take a little—wait. Wait, are you saying my mom tastes better than I do?"
"Why do you have to phrase it like that!"
The words are different, but the cadence of her teammates bickering is familiar enough that it quickly fades to the background of her attention. She works through the rest of her "hanami" roll at a leisurely pace, scanning the crowds as she does. There's so much laughter. Even actual festivals haven't been this boisterous for years.
Most of these people weren't on the war front. It's easy to resent them for that—for celebrating the anniversary of such a trying day. Victory is not a reward granted, but a luxury paid for in blood and flesh by the pound. She understands the relief, but is this much pomp and circumstance acceptable? Does a life saved by a black market kidney still deserve celebration?
Sakura doesn't know.
A child screams, high and piercing, shattering through the joyful murmur of the crowd. Her teammates' argument grinds to a halt. Sakura swivels to locate the source, and, in her periphery, she notices the majority of the adults around her do the same. Chakra flares around her as ninja spread their senses in search of a threat.
"Kenta!" a petite woman scolds, bending down, "What did I say about screaming?"
"Not to," the child mumbles. He's small enough that a picnic table nearby obscures him from Sakura's view.
"Unless?" the woman prompts. If Kenta answers, it's too quiet for her to hear.
Everyone in the vicinity, ninja and civilians alike, visibly relaxes. It's sobering to realize how on-edge they all are despite the upbeat atmosphere. Life has not been kind to Konoha's residents.
How self-absorbed of her.
No, the civilians around her didn't watch Neji die. They didn't despair as the Ten-tailed beast appeared in the battle-ground. To say they didn't know fear—didn't know suffering—is terribly short-sighted.
Konoha is a thriving militaristic society. Has been for decades. But having the pointiest sick doesn't ensure safety. Often the wielder becomes a target of others struggling to create their own rags to riches stories.
Or revenge. Pointy sticks are great at poking avengers into action.
Point is, Konoha has been leveled three times in Sakura's short time on this earth. If the civilians don't get to celebrate the peace she fought for, maybe she doesn't get to celebrate the Village they rebuilt.
Food for thought.
Sakura lays her finished dango stick on the table. The untouched dango stick sags in her hand with her increasing disinterest. Her recent train of thought is more than enough to derail her appetite entirely despite the fact that dango is one of her favorite treats.
"You okay?" Naruto asks immediately. He glances at the dango dangling in her grasp pointedly.
Sakura doesn't even have to force the smile. His concern forces its way through the heavy stormcloud of her thoughts like the sunbeam he is. Sweet. Naruto's just so sweet.
"I'm fine.” She fans herself with her free hand. "Just kinda hot, yeah? It's killing my appetite."
Naruto's expression clears immediately. "In that case, let's go get some shaved ice soon! I think I saw a vendor on our way in."
"I did not sign up to wrangle the two of you on a sugar high," Sasuke interjects sourly. Sweet sauce is smeared across his cheekbone, and there might be a crumb of fried dough occluding one nostril. Sakura chokes on a giggle which clearly earns no points from Sasuke. "No more sweets."
Sakura raises her hands in surrender, but Naruto isn't as quick to acquiesce. They start bickering, again, and as Sakura watches a dango skewer slides dangerously close to Sasuke's eye. Idiots. That does explain the out-of-place dough and sticky sauce, though.
The reprimand on her tongue withers at the enthusiastic sparkle in Naruto’s eyes as he advances further and further into Sasuke’s personal space. And Sasuke—brooding, angsty Sasuke—has a smile playing at his lips as he avoids the sticky dessert. He’s making a good show of being annoyed by his teammate’s antics, but if he was really done he’d be slapping the blond away. Angry Sasuke wouldn’t lean back unconcernedly on his only hand like that, and he certainly wouldn’t let Naruto rest his stump on his shoulder as he pesters him.
Bright. It’s so, so bright out today—ridiculously sunny for October—but no amount of sunblock would protect her from their megawatt smiles.
If the fight gets enthusiastic enough to disturb the table, she'll step in, Sakura decides, turning her head to give them a little privacy.
Or the illusion of it, anyway.
Sakura’s not sure how her teammates are able to ignore all the attention they’re attracting. The picnic table they have selected is on the outskirts of the eating area, but they might as well be on center stage. Her skin prickles under the weight of the public’s stares.
Logically, she knows the curious civilians don’t mean any harm. It’s rare that Team 7 is out in the public eye for such an extended period of time. That doesn’t stop the shinobi buried deep beneath her medic persona from sharpening her kunai warily. Sakura doesn't resent the instinct exactly—that's what keeps her alive—but she does try to shake it. The eyes on her aren't dangerous.
Just oppressive.
It’s in pretending to look out across the crowd—and ignoring the alarming number of heads that whip away from her that she does—that she notices them.
A trio of girls sit at two tables away from them at a diagonal. Four older women share the table, but there's enough space between the two to make it clear that they're separate parties. And anyway, the women are laughing, with clenched eyes and wide smiles. The younger ones, though, they're tittering. The sound is sharper than the murmuring of the crowd around them, which is probably why they stood out to her in the first place.
In their mirth, they haven’t noticed Sakura’s attention. One of the girls has a blush dark enough to match the hair of the girl digging an elbow playfully into her side. She can’t see the face of the final member of the trio, but her shoulders shake in obvious laughter under long, black hair. Suddenly the girl’s arms come up in an exaggerated stretch before dropping to her hips so she can make a show of twisting and stretching her back. Not bad for a civilian. Sakura would have almost believed her if not for how quickly she turned back to her friends after a less than sneaky peek at Team 7’s table.
Any amusement she might have held for the girls’ antics slip away immediately. Clearly the trio isn’t looking at Sakura, or they would have noticed her attention. The number of times they’ve all slid glances her direction is too high to be a coincidence, however, which only leaves one option.
The boys.
Now it’s abundantly clear what the brunette is being teased about. It’s been a while since the Academy, but Sakura has sent her share of moonstruck looks a certain Uchiha’s way. She knows what it feels like—what it looks like—to laugh and tease over crushes. Her eyebrows narrow fiercely for all that she tries to keep her expression neutral. The only real question left is: which boy are they looking at?
Four years ago, the answer would have been Sasuke hands down. His sharp features and aloof personality are easily misread as the mysterious persona of at least fifty percent of the love interests in romance novels. Barely dodged war crimes have tamped down the general enthusiasm for Sasuke, though there is always the chance the girl thinks she has a thing for “bad boys.”
Sakura hopes not, for her sake. Sasuke’s particular brand of “rebel with a cause” needs at least three years of serious training and an instruction manual the size of one of her medical textbooks to have any chance of walking away unscathed. Even then nightmares and traumatic events are pretty much a given.
Naruto laughs, loudly, and throws his head back enough to give a clear view of the syrup that drips down his chin. The brunette’s expression softens, and Sakura can hear the lovesick sigh she heaves from twenty feet away. So Naruto is the object of her affection. The realization makes her stomach twist.
There’s a sharp crack, and Sakura’s dango drops to the grass beneath them. She blinks, confused. The bottom half of the stick is still clenched tightly in her fist. It takes longer than it should to notice the splintered edge of the stick and piece together what happened.
“Are you alright?” It’s Sasuke that asks this time.
“Yeah, I’m—I’m fine.” Sakura bends down to grab her dango from the ground. She hadn’t planned on eating it anyway, but the grass coating the dumplings means that’s not an option for later anymore. “I just, ah—”
Before Sakura can come up with an excuse for her ill-timed use of super strength, the tittering behind them grows in volume enough to catch Sasuke’s attention this time. Sakura’s eyes flit to the trio of girls automatically, and they are looking at her now. Great. Even the blushing brunette has joined in the action, so Sakura knows that the laughs are meant for her. She grinds her teeth together. They’re civilians. Sakura can’t go around just laying civilians out because she feels like it.
“That’s enough time in the sun,” Sasuke declares, sliding off of the table top. He shoots a viscous glare over his shoulder. Sakura shouldn’t find so much satisfaction in how rapidly the giggles grind to a halt, but she does. The knots her intestines have tied themselves into loosen enough that she can take aim with a sharp smile of her own.
“Guys…?” Naruto asks. He can tell that something is going on, but doesn’t have enough information to piece the story together as Sasuke did. Blonde eyebrows furrow lightly as he glances from his teammates to the girls’ table.
The brunette has the audacity to sigh again. Every muscle in Sakura’s body tenses for a fight, and she doesn’t even pause to think about how ridiculous her reaction is. It’s not like she has any sort of claim over Naruto. Sasuke is the one who has been messily sharing finger food with him this whole afternoon. If anyone has any right to feel the sudden rage coursing through their body, it’s him. How dare that girl assume she has a chance when Naruto is clearly taken?
Sure enough, Sasuke’s expression has doubled in intensity. Disgust and possessiveness mix in equal measure on his face as his lip curls up and over his teeth. He probably doesn’t even realize what an overprotective boyfriend he looks like, and Sakura can only watch smugly as the girls wilt under his glare. Serves them right.
“We’re getting out of here,” Sasuke declares, firmly. He turns away from the trio before hefting Naruto off the table and over his shoulder in one fluid motion. Naruto squawks in surprise, understandably, but Sasuke’s malice is clearly not directed at him, so he allows himself to be carted away with only token protests. “Let’s go, Sakura.”
The urge to gloat is irresistible. Sakura tosses a taunting wink that the girls are too shell-shocked to react to before falling into her place at her boys’ backs. The rage and, okay, she’ll admit it, jealousy that bubbled up so unexpectedly earlier washes away in the face of her contentment. Maybe neither Sasuke or Naruto are hers in the romantic sense, but they’re hers in all the other ways that matter.
Sakura will guard their backs for as long as they let her with a smile in her heart.
Title: And Nothing More
Summary: In pointing out everything Sakura’s not, Sasuke starts to figure out just who she is.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto--I just like to play in the universe.
Prompt: Something More from day two of the SasuSakuMonth Prompts.
Rating: T
Words: 2,880
Warning(s): None
When a girl with bubblegum pink hair walked into Sasuke Uchiha’s life at age twelve, he had no intention of letting her stay.
Sakura Haruno was smart, that much was true. It was also true, however, that one glance at her too-wide stance and weak grip on her kunai would tell even the lowest ranking chunin that this particular ninja-in-training had very little aptitude for the more practical aspects of her chosen career. What was her plan for facing an opponent, anyway? Lecture them on chakra pathways until they got bored and left? Stun them with her brilliant use of the most basic substitution technique? Startle them by throwing kunai in their general direction?
No. This girl with bright green eyes and innocence wrapped around her as tightly as a swaddled baby was not going to last. Innocents made great sheaths for the monsters of the shinobi world; Sasuke was only too aware of this.
At best, he concluded, Sakura was an accessory. A shiny bauble that dangled off the arms of nin far stronger and more menacing than they. At worst, she would become canon fodder. The unskilled foot soldiers that provided the numbers or distraction of any large scale operation.
Even Naruto, dead-last imbecile that he was, had the unwavering resolve to get better. Grow stronger. He knew the cold ache of loneliness that had long since taken root in the very marrow of Sasuke’s existence. While Naruto dealt with that sickly sting differently than he--choosing to shout out instead of shut up--Sasuke could respect that the blonde was still racing in the same direction as him: forward. And if his teammate had set his sights on Sasuke’s back as some sort of target, so be it.
Maybe he would use him as a springboard.
Sasuke had no need of arm candy with appropriately colored hair, however, so he elected to leave Sakura behind.
She was dead weight. A liability. A nuisance. Annoying.
And nothing more.
--x--
When a girl with wide, innocent eyes stepped in front of a deadly opponent with nothing but a poorly grasped kunai, Sasuke’s brain told him it was only a matter of time.
His feet apparently responded to different sort of logic, and he found himself acting as a human shield for his terrified female teammate before his brain had finished its smug, “I told you so.”
Luckily Kakashi had intervened, but later, when the threat of danger was no longer imminent, Sasuke had to wonder about his actions. Why was he so willing to throw his life away for a meaningless girl? He had goals to achieve. Threats to eliminate. Family to avenge. Offering himself up as a pincushion would bring about none of the things he strove for.
So why? Why?
Sasuke found sleep more elusive than it usually was for the duration of the mission. He wasted nights he should have been resting weighing the restless souls of his clan against the bright life of his teammate. Perhaps that--the fact that she still had a future ahead of her--was the reason he intervened. But was it forgivable to put the needs of an outsider above the needs of his family--even if they were dead?
When, no more than a few days later, Sasuke found himself protecting Naruto from sure death, he was annoyed, yes. Annoyed, but also a little relieved.
His apparent death wish wasn’t reserved only for Sakura but also for his teammates. Sasuke had been reporting to Kakashi for less than a month, and already his first lesson repeated like a mantra in his head: those who don’t take care of their comrades are lower than trash.
Not that, Sasuke told himself, he particularly cared what Kakashi thought. He needed the Jonin’s jutsu expertise--not his life advice. Still, the man was a legend. Not as legendary as the man he wanted to kill, but legendary enough that Sasuke could forgive himself for letting Kakashi’s words take root in his subconscious so quickly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sasuke observed Sakura as she walked in a subdued manner beside him. Although the tear tracks staining her cheeks were no longer, her eyes were bright red and puffy. That was because of him. When she had thought he was dead, she had cried for him. Not dainty, fake tears. Messy, snotty, heartbroken tears. For him.
And even though it wasn’t useful, even though it broke shinobi rule #25, and even though he normally found her attention grating to an extreme level, somewhere a lot less deep than he wanted it to be, Sasuke was touched. It felt..nice to have someone care about you. To know someone would have his back and care about his well-being.
Sasuke looked at Sakura for a second longer before glancing at Naruto. The barest of grins fell into place. If this was what teammates were, Kakashi’s rule might make sense. And, therefore, so did his actions.
She was a person worthy of his protection. A fellow nin. A comrade.
And nothing more.
--x--
When his female teammate stood in front of him covered in an alarming numbers of bruises and scratches and swollen bits, Sasuke Uchiha never meant to act with anything but indifference.
Injuries were a constant companion of every ninja that ever was and ever would be.
So why was he burning with rage instead? The last time Sasuke could remember being this furious was the day he swore to himself he would avenge his clan’s death with his brother’s head on a pike. He could barely look at her without wanting to burn the whole fucking forest down.
On Naruto the deep wounds decorating her arms would be battle scars. Although Sasuke personally felt walking away from a fight unscathed was a stronger testament to a ninja’s adroitness than a brocade of scars, there was no denying that they were evidence of survival. After all, no one picked a fight with Ibiki on a whim.
Sakura, though--Sakura’s skin was supposed to stay unstained. She had chosen to place herself on the front lines, true. Just like him, just like Naruto, and just like every other Leaf nin. She was Sasuke’s sister in arms, technically. A back to place against his when the kunai were dense and escape routes were few.
But Sasuke saw the soft in Sakura all too easily.
There was affection in her eyes as she groused at Naruto and a playful tilt on her lips as she scolded Kakashi for his choices in literature. He knew that she adored sunrises and sunsets and butterflies and fireflies. She would rather be curled up in a patch of sunlight reading a book on genjutsu than training with her weaponry, but Sasuke had noticed the calluses that slowly grew on her hands.
It seemed, slowly but surely, Sakura was evening out the number of hair products and weapons she owned. Her bravery was matched equally with her fear. Labeling her the ‘weak link’ of the team would be easy--Sasuke had thought the same thing at first--but the exact same characteristics that made her weak made her a crucial component of their team.
She was Sakura, and, somewhere along the way, she had snuck up in Sasuke’s ranks from ‘comrade’ to ‘precious person.’
Because Sasuke cared that Sakura felt confident and not dejected, and not just because her insecurities could be the downfall of their team. He knew it was naive to think so, but in the last couple of months he had convinced himself that he and Naruto could shield her from any harm. If they could just grow strong enough, move fast enough, learn enough jutsu, Sasuke would never have to hear her scream in fear again. Never.
Idiot.
It didn’t matter that she was just one person or that Sasuke was older; he could no better protect her than he could stop his brother from annihilating everyone he had loved.
She was a pink target. A fleeting ray of sunshine. A doomed precious person.
And nothing more.
--x--
When a worried friend placed herself between him and the path out of Konoha's smothering walls, Sasuke Uchiha had every intention of brushing her aside and never looking back.
Sakura was a weakness, but her liability didn’t stem from her overly-conditioned hair and practically empty repertoire of useful ninja techniques as he had initially assumed. Sakura was his weakness specifically. She was his siren’s call.
In retrospect, he should have figured it out sooner. Sasuke had tasted power, just the smallest nibble, before Sakura’s arms and voice drew him back too soon. Instead of begrudging the loss, though, he spent his time mourning the blemishes on his teammate’s once-porcelain skin. Weak, unfocused, pathetic.
The twine-like bonds she had laid on him as a teammate had already transformed into shackles, and Sasuke could bear nothing holding him back if he wanted to move forward.
He had it right in the first place; Sakura was a shiny bauble. A distraction. To hell with Kakashi and his lectures on teamwork. Throwing himself between Sakura and danger wasn’t admirable. It was folly. Pure and simple.
So when Sakura cried, unshielded and honest, loudly enough for any to overhear that she loved him, Sasuke told her how annoying he found her.
But he also told her thank you, because he hadn’t yet squashed the part of himself that responded to those pure eyes, hopeful lips, and honest heart. He laid her down because he couldn’t bear to throw her aside like nothing, and he did it gently because the thought of hurting her any more made his stomach turn.
“It’s because your heart is lacking...lacking in hatred.”
And it was. His actions of the past few months with Team 7, towards Sakura now, proved that. But no longer.
She was a temptation. A moment’s weakness. A comfort.
And nothing more.
--x--
When a furious femme fatale stormed the walls of Orochimaru’s crumbling hideout, Sasuke Uchiha hadn’t meant to call to her.
Striking Sakura down before she realized the threat would have been the more disciplined approach. It had been two and a half years since they had laid eyes on each other, though, and Sasuke was curious to see what he would find in those eyes. Were they still as unshielded and innocent as when he had left her behind?
Immediately Sasuke cursed his own weakness. He thought he had squashed the softness from his soul years ago. Yet not even a minute had passed in Sakura’s presence, and he was already seeking out her attentions--longing to see her look up at him in awe. Wanting to see her recognize how powerful he’d become without her to drag him down.
As he drew his sword to strike Naruto down, he told himself it was only her strength that captivated him now. He had heard the rumours, of course. Shutting out news of old teammates was hard when each member had landed themselves an apprenticeship from one of the legendary Sannin. So, yes, Sasuke had heard about Sakura in their time apart. Stories of a young medic already stepping out of her mentor’s shadow flitted about most villages. Already whispers of a pink-haired kunoichi who downed Sasori of the Red Sand could be heard in the shadows.
Reconciling the image of the trendy and polished girl he had left behind with the practically dressed young woman before him was difficult, though. Once painted nails were chipped and full of grime. Then enchanting, calculating green eyes narrowed beneath long, full eyelashes, and Sakura charged.
At that moment, Sasuke became certain that his fascination with the temptress before him was...professional.
She was a kunoichi. A fellow apprentice of a Sannin. A force to be reckoned with.
And nothing more.
--x--
When a Leaf kunoichi held a poisoned kunai in her hands and lies on her lips, Sasuke Uchiha felt the last fraying cord of his sanity snap.
There was not one thing, he was certain, not one single thing about Konoha that was worth saving. They thought they were so good and noble. Playing at being samurais in shining armor while war, death, disease, and famine sprung forth in their wake. How dare they preach morality from pedestals forged from his clan’s bones?
And it was all of them.
Not just the leaders or the politicians. Not just the Anbu and the elites. The Jonins and Chunins. The blacksmiths and doctors and civilians, too. Until this very second, he had considered the Genin and children an unfortunate casualty. He had only considered them guilty by associated with a tainted system, but now he knew that they too would rot from the inside out as time passed.
Of all the terrible things he had thought of Sakura, Sasuke had never considered her a deceiver. They stood on opposite sides, but he had expected her to approach him as openly as she always had. Yet here she stood with falsehoods forged to suit her own goals.
She was an enemy. A backstabber. A liar.
And nothing more.
--x--
When a Konoha colluder broke the horn off of a Goddess’s head with only her fist, Sasuke found he wasn’t the least bit surprised.
The moment Sakura jumped up onto the rock overhang with Naruto and him was the moment she came into her full power, and she had been turning heads ever since. Even the dobe, the one teammate who had been around to see her grow the most, had been shocked by the monstrous strength she suddenly channeled. It wasn’t that Sakura’s display left him unfazed. Instead, reunited on the ultimate battlefield, Sasuke felt a surge of pride for the mountain-leveling hellion before him.
They had separated once more soon after, but Sasuke saw the miniature versions of Katsuya attached to the cannon fodder nin of the Alliance. Saw shinobi up and fighting that should have already taken their final breaths.
Later, when Sasuke had felt Sakura falter under Madara’s gaze, he was almost hopeful she would let his ancestor focus on Naruto and him and stay out of sight. It proved to only be a moment’s hesitation, however, because Sakura shot past the both of them with the order to use her as a diversion.
Then she went and got herself impaled.
His heart seized when he saw the chakra rod holding Sakura aloft poking through the back of her flak jacket. She didn’t cry out, though; she just gritted her teeth and raised her fist to deliver a devastating blow. Of course, one of Madara’s shadows acted as an invisible shield, but the fact of the matter was she had tried to face down Sasuke’s ancestor--she had surprised Madara, even. After all, not many people still throw earth-shattering punches when they’ve been impaled.
As far as he knew, Sakura hadn’t spoken with the Sage of Six Paths. She hadn’t received any insights or gifts from one of the first chakra wielders. So, when Sasuke told her there was nothing she could do anymore, it was just because he wanted her to understand that, just like that time in the Forest of Death, she was facing opponents far above her pay-grade.
Sakura refused to back down, though. Madara’s murderous gaze made her falter but didn’t make her flee. Kaguya’s overwhelming reservoir of chakra made her wary but didn’t make her retreat. Had Sasuke not placed a genjutsu on her, she probably would have tried to interfere with Naruto and his fight, too.
Because, power ups or no, Sakura Haruno was one of them.
She was an elite. A Neo-sannin. An equal.
And nothing more.
--x--
When Tsunade’s successor crouched over his prone form and focused on knitting his mortal wound closed, Sasuke Uchiha wasn’t overwhelmed with relief at his survival.
He was overwhelmed with guilt.
Kami, how had he gotten everything so wrong and twisted up? Labeling Sakura--who she was to him, what she had accomplished--had become something a habit. As if summing up her existence in a few tidy words would make his feelings for her easier to contain.
Of course, it didn’t. Demeaning her and idolizing her had failed in equal measures. It had been like using explosive tags to try and defy gravity. Sasuke wrought plenty of wreckage in his wake, his fevered attempts at escape, but sooner or later physics became an inevitability.
And Sasuke was left to face the fact that he had spent his life hurting the person he loved the most.
The fact was that he had understood so very little. It had been a long time--ten years, to be precise--since Sasuke had allowed himself to love. Not lust for or admire, but love unabashedly and unfiltered in the way that Sakura had her whole life. So, for the first time, Sasuke was beginning that Sasuke loved every facet of her--not just this label or that description or that characteristic.
Because, the truth was, she was all of that. Annoying. A comrade. A precious person. A comfort. A force to be reckoned with. A liar. An equal. Sakura Haruno was all of those things, every single one and sometimes none of them at all, but still--still, she was…well.
