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Title: Like Silver

Summary: A companion series for Like Gold, told from Sakura's perspective.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - include's author's notes

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Chapter 3/?: An Army of Butterflies

“Itsuki didn’t show up for his five thirty appointment,” Sakura says, sliding the clipboard across the desk one-handed to the hospital’s secretary in a way that she hopes is on the vestiges of normalcy, that doesn’t betray the utter mess of butterflies her insides have become. “I thought I’d leave the paperwork, in case he comes by and someone else is available. It’s possible he thought the appointment was for tomorrow, not today.”

Mei nods, taking the clipboard. “Got it. If he comes in the next hour or two, I’ll see what we have. If not, I’ll leave a note for Hikari to return it to your office.”

Sakura returns her hand to the strap of her tote bag, fingers on her other hand drumming the medical journals and book currently clutched to her chest, flipping through the archives of her mind to discern if there’s anything else pertinent that the secretary needs to know. Once a few seconds pass and she’s confident she’s mentioned everything, she slowly exhales.

“Okay, I think that’s it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mei.”

The secretary’s hazel scrutinization flick to hers briefly, then to the glass doors before she grins.

“See you,” Mei says, a single eyebrow arched in a way that is sagacious.

Sakura bites her lip to contain her smile, raising a hand in farewell as she turns towards the glass; she has always worn her heart on her sleeve. No use trying to change that at this point.

A lone, familiar figure in black leans against one of the blue columns that frame the entryway of the hospital from the road, blurred through the doorway.

She can’t help it; her heart leaps into her throat. It’s more than just butterflies; there has to be an army in there, battling up her windpipe, wings fluttering with an intensity unrivaled.

He’s here. He’s back. She hadn’t doubted his words at all, but the physicality of him still threatens to take the breath right out of her, given the amount of time she has spent longing for him.

If she walks to the entrance a little more quickly than she ever has, spring in her step, well, Sakura supposes she’s earned the right.

She pushes the glass door open with her shoulder, and Sasuke comes into focus. He’s not wearing his traveling cloak. Just simple black pants and a black shirt.

There’s an anticipatory pause where she just studies him, happiness sinking over her like a tide, or maybe a spring updraft, lifting her spirits to the stratosphere.

It’s near quintessential to her existence, his lone dark eye meeting and holding hers for longer than is strictly necessary. If her cheeks weren’t already warm just by seeing him, they definitely are now.

She closes the gap between them finally, spring still in her step and lips quirking upwards as she greets, “Sasuke-kun.” As she gets closer, she observes the vibrancy of the streetlight catch as a reflection atop obsidian and silver.

“Sakura.”

Just hearing him speak her name makes goosebumps flare on her skin, something of the sublime whispering at the base of her spine. The sky is beginning to dusken behind him, peach and apricot giving way to the later evening.

It’s completely beautiful, this day, but all she can see is him, this echo of a boy she fell in love with so long ago, now with a changed countenance and finally, finally here, within her grasp.

“How was your first day back?” Within a few feet of him, her steps stutter to a pause as she casts a smile up at him. She’s still not used to how tall he is, towering above her by what has to be at least seven inches.

He appears to think it over for a bit, and she tries not to get lost in the sterling spark of his iris, her army companions seemingly running drills inside her chest cavity.

“...Fine. I saw Kakashi and the dobe.”

Sakura grins. Figured as much. “I’m going to guess paperwork and Ichiraku’s.”

In response, Sasuke pulls a familiar pale green group of forms from his pocket; she’s seen hundreds of health screening papers at this point.

Somehow her smile grows even wider.

“You can come by tomorrow just after eight in the morning, if that works for you; I’ll be here,” Sakura offers. She assumes he’ll want her to complete the physical; he’s not keen on anyone examining his eyes. She’d overseen the treatment and physical therapy of his arm, too, so it would make sense.

“...Shouldn’t I make an appointment?”

Right. He doesn’t know her newer schedule. He was back for only a few months, just after the war, and she and Ino had barely started preparatory work for the childrens’ clinic and resulting research by then. It wasn’t until after that her schedule had become varied; it used to be nothing but appointments and procedures, and she’d been on call for emergencies, too. She’s still on call for them, frankly, but they’ve managed to build up the staff a bit; she’s only summoned for the most dire of them, as of late.

Sakura shakes her head. “Thursdays and Fridays I don’t have appointments or surgeries until a little later in the day. The majority of those mornings are set aside for medical research and correspondence with some of the clinics. As long as it’s before eleven, I can step away from things for a bit.”

He surprises her by inquiring, “What kind of research?”

She hadn’t mentioned much about the research or the children’s clinic in her letters, now that she thinks about it. Much of the patients’ records have to be kept confidential anyway, and she’d worried that it may stir painful memories for him. There was also an element of sheepishness to it, on her part specifically; in terms of her work, much of it was influenced by him, of not wanting other children to be alone in their pain as he was. But that seemed much too personal to share in her letters, knowledgeable of her feelings for him as he must be.

“...It depends. Right now we’re doing some longitudinal studies on mice; behavioral assessment in accordance with certain stimuli, neurobiological response, brain scans, that sort of thing.…” She pauses, trying to ascertain if that’s enough information. He could just be being polite; she doesn’t want to drone on about it too long, if that’s the case. She adds, almost as an afterthought, “I’ve also got some poisons I’m looking at for antidote development, but they’re pretty rare, so it’s not super pressing.”

His single visible eye flicks to the books she has clutched to her chest, and it makes her heart twist pleasantly in familiarity, because he used to do that all the time when they were kids; ask questions without asking them.

She inches the books apart so he can read the titles. Progress in Neuro-Psychopharmacology and Biological Psychiatry, Neuroanatomy Through Clinical Cases, and Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release. Ino tells her routinely that she needs to pick up books that don’t double function as lullabies, but Sakura genuinely finds them fascinating, not to mention helpful with what they’re currently working on with their research. They could contain information that further supports their various interworking hypotheses. Tsunade-shishou has been reading some of the other journals, when she has an extra hour or two; they’re the kinds delving into specific neurological conditions such as epilepsy and cerebral aneurysm. Periodically they make copies of the more pertinent studies to send back and forth; tag-teaming them speeds up the process, and after so many years spent training under her, Sakura knows her master’s shorthand annotations like she knows the back of her hand.

“...Some light reading,” Sasuke comments, and Sakura exhales a sheepish sort of laugh, unable to contain her grin. She’d missed that desperately, too, the dry sense of humor.

“I suppose. I actually need to return these; they’re almost due. I meant to do it yesterday, but…” Her voice trails off as she realizes she didn’t really need to include that last part, and that she’s about to have to admit how scatterbrained his return yesterday made her.

Warmth seeps into her cheeks when she meets his gaze again, and he’s already looking at her.

Too late to back out now, Haruno.

“...I forgot.” She confesses quietly, feeling her face heat further. She hopes she isn’t about to strong-arm their plans for the evening; she’s not sure exactly what he wanted to do, but it shouldn’t take too long to return the books and grab the new ones, if they’re in. Ichika usually sets them in a spot in the back for her.

“I… wasn’t sure what you wanted to do this evening.” Her fingers grip the books closer to her chest again out of nerves. “I thought maybe we could swing by the library? I’d like to take a quick look to see if they have some new things in yet; it shouldn’t take very long.”

He could even wait outside, she reasons, if he doesn’t want to see anyone. The library’s usually pretty deserted, honestly - it’s probably one of the least social places in Konoha - but maybe he’d rather not run into anyone else just yet; she knows he’s not a people person.

Sasuke nods after only a few seconds, and she exhales in relief. “Okay,” she murmurs, trying valiantly not to be sucked into a murky mix of ink and light. “They close at eight today, so we should probably get going.”

He inclines his head again, gaze flickering down to the books again. Her brows furrow - does he want to see the titles again? - and then he’s extending his hand towards her.

Sakura blinks in befuddlement.

“...I’ll carry them,” Sasuke offers as she gapes upwards at him “...If you’d like.”

I wonder if I’ll be spending this entire evening as red as a strawberry, Sakura muses, convinced she’s bright crimson and embarrassed that a simple thing like this can affect her so.

“Oh. Thank you.” She hands them to him carefully, and her fingers brush his, and all she can recall is how his hand felt, pressing hers into the grooves of wood, insides churning pleasantly. Sakura adjusts her bag while turning, trying to force down the color from her face through sheer willpower alone.

It’s no use; her heart skips when he falls into stride next to her.

They pass by an early round of construction as they head east; there are a multitude of new residential areas popping up on the outskirts of Konoha, which in turn has shifted the places situated closer to the heart of the village into becoming more commercialized space. There’s an occasional apartment building going up or being renovated from time to time, she supposes as she observes the village with a new lens. Sakura tries to remember what it must have looked like when he departed, which buildings have been updated since then. She hopes Konoha isn’t too unfamiliar or disparate to him now; a great deal has changed in two years.

It’s late enough that they don’t pass too many people, for which she is grateful. It gives a secluded feel, an illusion of privacy.

I wonder if he’s eaten yet, Sakura ponders as they pass by one of several restaurants, the smell of fried rice wafting into the street. Maybe she shouldn’t have eaten dinner? She didn't even really consider that. Seven is awfully late to not have eaten yet, though, and he doesn’t say anything as they go by each establishment.

Should I say something? There are so many things she wants to ask him.

She decides on the easiest one.

“So, how were things with Kakashi-sensei and Naruto?” Sakura cranes her neck a bit to peer up at him. “Anything other than paperwork?”

Sasuke’s brows furrow slightly in an expression that insinuates he’s thinking.

“...Naruto and I went apartment hunting.”

A cognizant grin finds its way to her face, and she reminisces about the words for more than a while.

“Did you invite him?” She’s pretty sure she already knows the answer.

Sasuke confirms her suspicions by shaking his head. “Kakashi mentioned it as I was leaving and he invited himself.”

Of course he did, she thinks as she chuckles, turning towards Hokage mountain for a second at Kakashi’s visage. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He probably appreciated a morning with Naruto out of his hair. He’s been helping there a lot, when he’s not on missions.” Sakura pauses then, reflecting on what he’s said, before continuing. “I imagine apartment hunting with Naruto would be pretty draining, though. He’s gotten a little better at cooling it with the nonstop chatter since Hinata, but not by a ton.”

She stops herself again, pondering this new normal, because now she’s stuck on a thought.

She’s beyond curious, if he found a place and where it is, if so.

It’s a natural thing to query. They’re… together, right?

Just ask him.

“Did you end up finding a place?”

Sasuke nods promptly, and her mind stops going a mile a minute.

“It’s north of here.”

She can’t help it; her lips curve upwards again. Sakura purses them, trying not to betray how inordinately pleased she is about this information. North of here isn’t too far away at all.

She meets his gaze tentatively, still grinning, then glances away shyly, because she knows there’s got to be color in her cheeks again.

The words slip out despite herself. “...Not too far away, then.”

They make it a few more steps before he echoes quietly, “...Not too far.”

Something unfurls in her chest as they pass by the seasonal gardening vendors, beginning to close up shop for the evening. Sakura can’t help but smile as she beholds the various plants, shiny packaging and small containers of dirt containing sprouts. Everything is looking greener to her today than usual, feelings requited sprouting from her heart. It’s utterly lovely. A somehow both comfortable and companionable silence shared as they walk, in step with each other.

Maybe that’s what attracted all these butterflies.

“Did you get everything you needed for your apartment today?” It occurs to her to ask after they wander another block or so. She’s not sure how much he carried with him, while he was away on his journey. She imagines he would travel pretty light; he always did on missions as Genin. That would likely make setting up an apartment a longer process. It’s difficult for her to picture him doing something as mundane and normal as buying plates or laundry detergent.

He blinks. “...Mostly.”

Mostly?

Maybe he wasn’t able to get it all done in just a day, prior to meeting up with her at the hospital. Briefly she feels marginally guilty, trying and failing to imagine moving in somewhere with nothing but the supplies she carried with her when she went on missions more regularly.

When she’d moved out of her parents’ place, there was a mountain of things she brought with her, and even then she’d had to pursue some additional furniture before she considered herself well and truly moved in. Her bookshelves come to mind, as well as most of her bedroom furniture, found here and there from secondhand sales or antique shops, refinished to match. Her old bed had stayed at her parents’, turning her childhood bedroom into something like a guest room, which was fine, because it was a twin, anyway.

It had felt so good to lie in that queen sized bed, even when it was the only thing in her new bedroom, knowing the place was all her own. Victorious, in a way, like she was finally a full-fledged adult. That bed became her respite, in the month after; it had taken more than a few weeks, let alone a day, to get it all moved and settled, even when she’d hurried the process along a little with shadow clones divvying up the tidying and organizing. She’d collapse atop her lavender comforter at the end of long days spent moving furniture or painting rooms with Sai and Ino, shifts at the hospital intermixed.

Maybe he found a furnished apartment? She wonders if he needs any assistance further organizing or putting away things at his place; she’d be more than happy to help, but she knows Sasuke’s not the type to ask for help with something like that. Or really to ask for help with anything, period.

“Was there something in particular you wanted to do, after the library? We could stop by a store, if they’re open, and get what you’re missing.” She hopes it’s not overstepping a boundary; it’s vague enough that she concludes the offer to help is there, without directly offering it.

He shakes his head. “I… didn’t have anything planned.” They take several steps, him looking somewhat pensive for some reason, as if he has more to say. Finally, he adds, “...I think the store I went to closed at seven.”

Okay, so maybe he did have time to get most things set up. She hopes it’s a nice apartment; Sasuke deserves some comfort, a place to call home, after everything. She can’t help but be a little curious about what kind of accommodations he selected; she surmises that he’d have a predilection to like something older rather than any of the newly constructed places, and likely towards an edge of town so it’s quieter, but she’s also never really had an opportunity to ask him.

Something in her chest constricts, because she’s realizing now that eventually she will. Have an opportunity, that is.

“What are you missing, still?” She decides to question, casting her gaze upward.

It takes him a moment to respond, as if he’s contemplating something carefully; she can just see his sternocleidomastoid muscle flex, a subtle movement that shouldn’t make her mouth run dry the way it does.

“...A small storage box, and a laundry rack,” he finally answers.

Sakura brightens; those are small things, afterthoughts rather than true immediate necessities, which means he probably was able to arrange the most essential parts of his new living space.

It also means she can help, in some infinitesimal way.

“I actually have a spare drying rack that I’m not using, if you want it. The washing machine in my unit broke in February, and when my landlady replaced it, she got a washer/dryer combo.”

She also has a shoebox, she realizes after she finishes speaking. Her smile grows, because she realizes she doesn’t need that anymore, either.

“...And I think I have an empty shoebox in my closet,” she tacks onto her initial offer. “Would that be big enough?”

There’s an unreadable expression on Sasuke’s face just prior to him nodding, affirmative.

It’s ridiculous that even when completely indecipherable, he’s that handsome.

“...Thank you.”

Those words carve into her heart, familiar in the best way.

This time, she gets to respond.

“No problem,” she says with as much warmth as she can muster before said warmth migrates to her cheeks at her next suggestion. “We could… walk for a while, and then swing by there at the end. If you want.” Her fingers grip the canvas strap of her tote, feeling its texture fit into the grooves of her fingertips.

Out with it, Sakura.

“I wouldn’t mind walking by your building at some point before that, so I… so I know where it is.”

Sasuke nods, and her fingers relax against the fabric, heart swelling pleasantly.

She doesn’t expect him to say anything else, so it catches her a bit off guard when he questions, “...We could walk around a bit after the library?”

“...I’d like that,” she acquiesces softly, smiling up at him with warm cheeks.

They’re at the library sooner than she expects to be, distracted as she is. Taking it in presently, she realizes the expansion wasn’t added yet, when Sasuke was previously home. She’s not sure if he’d been to the library regularly when they were younger, so he might not even notice the newer addition to the building.

She glances at him surreptitiously, searching for a sign that he’s going to hand off the books to her and wait outside, but he doesn’t; he just continues towards the entrance to the building. Sakura makes sure to take an extra step ahead of him so she can open the door, since his hand is still occupied.

Carrying books for her. She’s still not quite over that.

“Thank you,” Sasuke says quietly as the bell chimes atop the doorway to alert the librarian on duty of arriving patrons. Sakura stares after him for a long second before trailing behind him.

He just seems so at ease right now. Like there’s less simmering undercurrent of anger and loss. Accompanying her to the library, of all places.

Ichika breaks her out of her thoughts as they meander up to the circulation desk. Sakura had thought she’d be on duty; her schedule here matches up with Sakura’s on most occasions, hours varying slightly.

“Finished with those already, Sakura?” She inquires in the same friendly manner she always does, inquisitive brown irises and motioning to the books in Sasuke’s arm as they come up to the front desk.

“Yes; the journal was interesting, this time.” Sakura shifts slightly so that she can reach into her bag to retrieve her lanyard that organizes all her keys, her ID badge for the hospital, and her library card. Thinking of the target practice area of the research room, she adds wryly, “Very relevant to the experiments we’re running, and much more substantial than the last edition.”

“Thank you,” Ichika says as she hands her library card over, glancing at Sasuke, then back at her.

“And this is?”

“This is Sasuke,” Sakura says, unable to contain her smile. “Uchiha.” She has no qualms about how Ichika will react; she’s transparently progressive, well-educated, and likely has already deduced who Sasuke is, given that he’s an unfamiliar face here with Sakura, clad in all black with only one visible eye. Sakura has been coming here for years, so naturally she knows Ichika well; she’s pretty sure she’ll treat him just like any other patron. More than once, Sakura has seen her handle blatantly rude clientele with nothing but a smile, a gentle correction, and a warm send off; mostly she’s determined that the brown-haired woman simply treats people how she would like to be treated. She’s a good person.

“Welcome,” Ichika greets kindly, confirming Sakura’s suspicions.

“...Thank you,” Sasuke responds after a moment.

“It was nice of you to carry those books,” Ichika offers.

Right. Carrying books would be something she notices.

Suddenly Sakura is reckoning with how this appears from an outsider’s perspective, Sasuke carrying her books for her all the way here.

And the fact that now, an assumption based on how it appears is actually correct.

Oh.

“I know from experience they’re quite heavy.” Ichika’s gesturing to her name tag as she introduces herself, while Sakura snaps herself out of her revelations.

“I don’t suppose you like to read as much as Sakura does?” The librarian laughs as she returns Sakura’s card to her and begins scanning the returned stack of books. “I think by now there are more books in the library that she’s read than ones she hasn’t.”

Sasuke briefly regards her in a way that is percipient, and it’s all Sakura can do to look down, biting her lip bashfully.

“...I like to, but I don’t think I’d understand half of what’s in these,” he says, turning back to Ichika. Sakura feels her cheeks warm pleasantly; it’s a roundabout compliment, delivered in a way that is so very Sasuke.

Ichika laughs. “I usually have her write down the titles of the books she’d like us to add, because I don’t know that I can even spell some of the words.” Squinting at the last book returned, she reads, “Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release. I haven’t the faintest idea what a neurotransmitter is, or what it would be releasing.”

Sakura smiles, already crafting an explanation in a way that feels somewhat absentminded, still somewhat preoccupied with unraveling Sasuke’s particular brand of compliment. Despite her vast knowledge as a librarian, Ichika is moreso into literature and poetry than nonfiction and science.

“Neurotransmitters are the body’s chemical messengers. A release is when the neurotransmitter causes a response in the receiving neuron; they can be disrupted in diseases and biological toxins. Tetanus is a good example; it goes up synaptic terminals of interneurons where it blocks the release of inhibitory neurotransmitters. The result of the block is that motorneurons become overactive, and then causes muscle contractions and spastic paralysis, like lockjaw.”

It’s not until Ichika blinks at her blankly that Sakura begins to inwardly worry if that was a rather wordy explanation, too pedant, but then the librarian speaks again in a way that’s jovial. “I don’t know where you keep that information in your head, Sakura, because it certainly wouldn’t fit in mine. Guess I’ll try not to step on any nails in the meantime.” She shakes her head before her gaze flicks to the books and back to her. “Well, they’re all checked in, with a few days to spare. I left out the new journals and that other book you asked about in the usual spot, back in the Medicine section.”

Sakura nods in a nostalgic and grateful way, because ‘a few days to spare’ has been she and Ichika’s code for the past year or so, translating to something more along the lines of ‘technically these are close to being due, or occasionally overdue, but you’re usually the only person in the village checking out these medical research texts, so as long as they’re returned kinda near the return date, we’ll call it good’. It’s clearly the librarian’s way of telling her to take her time with her selections, that there are no worries about late fees for these types of books.

Ichika’s attention turns to Sasuke after a beat passes.

“Would you like a library card?”

Sakura blinks. For some reason she hadn’t expected her to ask him that, though it makes sense; she is a librarian, after all. It’s been years since Sakura was here with anyone who didn’t have one. In fact, racking her brain, she’s pretty sure that the last occasion was with Ino, when they were still in the Academy, trying to get her to read so they could trade recommendations. It’s how Ino gained an interest in romance novels, and also how she ascertained that she and her best friend have different preferences in terms of literature content and quality. It’s still fun every so often, reminiscent of a very private book club; sometimes her recommendations are decent.

Her brows rise a little when Sasuke responds.

“...I used to have one. I’m not sure if it’s still on file.”

I didn’t know that.

He’d been so busy always training when they were Genin, though she vaguely recalls him usually having a book on hand to read when they finished written exams or assignments at the Academy. That seems like forever ago, though, and in the short period he was here after the war, she’d never seen him with any kind of book.

I wonder what he likes to read now? Suddenly she’s trying to picture Sasuke reading on his travels. She believes she can envision it, him leaning up against a tree somewhere, camp and traps set for the evening, though the content of the theoretical book is still a mystery to her. It would have to be a rather small one, she thinks, with the way he’s probably traveled light.

“I can check our records, if you want to browse in the meantime,” Ichika is saying, utterly oblivious to Sakura’s curiosity. “If it’s not still on file, we can set you up with a new one; you can take books today either way, if you find some you’re interested in.”

Sasuke nods, and for the umpteenth time this evening, says, “...Thank you.”

As Ichika swivels to begin sorting through the files, Sasuke turns to her. She briefly entertains the thought of commenting on his apparent desire to read, but decides to postpone the question for a moment. She’ll ask him once they’ve reached the back of the library; he might feel more comfortable answering if the conversation isn’t being overheard by someone else. There could be others here - she routinely runs into Sai in the room containing the art selection, for example, or other familiar faces - but the back is always secluded.

Wordlessly, she turns to journey further back into the building, and Sasuke follows. They pass through interior rooms, the fiction sections inclusive of poems, plays, and short stories, then the one filled with mystery novels.

It’s then that they stumble upon him, situated where she thought he might be; Sai sits in the corner of the room that contains the art books, hunched over a text about painting.

“Oh, hey, Sai,” she greets, bridging the gap between them. She sees him here pretty regularly, especially when Ino’s away on a mission. Now that she’s closer, she can read the book’s title: The Art of Seeing.

“Hello, Ugly,” he responds in his droll sort of cheer, entirely unsurprised until his gaze lands on Sasuke, lingering in the threshold behind her still.

It’s subtle, but it’s there; a thinly veiled widening of the eyes. If one wasn’t watching for it, they likely wouldn’t notice it. Ino’s been working with him on expressing outward emotions, though; it’s nice to witness firsthand the fruit of her labors, however subtle.

“Welcome back, Traitor,” Sai adds, and Sakura cringes inwardly. She’s entirely used to Sai’s terrible nicknames by now, having known him for the better part of five years, but she recognizes that Sasuke may not be. She wishes he would call him something else. She’ll have to talk to him about it when she sees him or Ino alone next. Probably just him; Ino likely thinks it’s funny.

Sakura detects slight movement behind her; Sasuke has just nodded his head in brief recognition, in spite of the ill-advised nickname. She exhales a little, realizing she’d been holding her breath.

Sai’s attention lands back on her, before asking, “Have you recovered from your birthday extravaganza?”

Her left eye twitches as she stiffens.

Lovely. Thanks, Sai.

“Uh… Yeah. It doesn’t take long,” she manages to say. She really hadn’t gotten terribly drunk at all, in truth, but Ino still kept calling it that. “I eat during and can heal my headache the morning after.”

“Yes, Beautiful said you didn’t get nearly as plastered as she wanted you to.” It’s delivered in a tone that is entirely too positive, given the topic. Sakura rarely gets ‘plastered’, as Ino so lovingly calls it, but Sasuke doesn’t know that.

Sakura somehow manages to resist the urge to twitch, this time, though it requires a Herculean effort, and a rolling of the eyes as substitute, instead. “She would think that.” She allows a pause, then deliberates.

Time to change the subject.

“Ino should be back tonight, right?”

Sai blinks blankly in a manner that gives no indication of what he could be thinking.

“Yes. I am excited. I’m feeling quite amorous.”

She rolls her eyes again, more relaxed now as she gently slides the book into making contact with his face, though she feels a tiny amount of pity for Sasuke now having this bit of information. It’s nothing compared to what her best friend has told her of her love life, most of it unprompted and entirely unasked for, but still; Sasuke probably didn’t want to know that.

“Too much information,” Sakura chides. “Just say you miss her.”

Sai smiles in that weird detached way he has as he moves the book away. “It is less information than Beautiful gives.”

“That’s because she’s not normal,” she retorts. Sai nods as if he understands.

A pause lingers, before he adds, “I am researching for an upcoming painting.”

Sakura tilts her chin slightly in acknowledgment. “I won’t keep you, then.” Her fingers adjust her bag on her shoulder slightly. “Don’t let her forget about our plans, though, and tell her I missed our spar this week.” She has some yellow ranunculus blooms towards the back of her plant that would do nicely next week; friendship and positivity, a good choice now that spring has arrived in full.

Her teammate’s lips curve upwards again. “She was preparing a new playlist prior to her mission.”

A deep sigh inflates her lungs; Sakura exhales it slowly through her nose.

“Great,” she comments flatly. “Well anyways, tell her I say hi. See you. Good luck with your painting.”

He nods once more, and Sakura swivels to continue the trek back to the medical journals. Sasuke’s footsteps trail behind her. They pass through the room that houses historical nonfiction, then the biographies, followed by philosophy, and finally popular science before they make it to the medical section. It’s one of the lesser utilized sections in the entire building, thus earning its spot at the very back. Sakura secretly loves it, because it offers ample opportunity for study without distraction. She has curled up in the chair situated on the southeast end for hours without being disturbed on occasion, flipping through research journals and texts on modern medicine.

As always, Ichika has left her next round of requests sectioned neatly away on an empty part of the shelf; there’s the latest edition of the Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, the latest edition of Human Brain Mapping, and her next full text, Translational Research in Traumatic Brain Injury. Tsunade-shishou had recommended the last one in her letter last month; Sakura’s excited to dig into it.

Once she’s carefully picking up the stack, she says to Sasuke, “I didn’t know you liked to read, still.” There’s a smile on her lips that she just can’t help.

He nods. “...I haven’t read much in a while.”

Suspicions confirmed; whatever he’s read while away, it must have been fairly light and easy to travel with.

“Well,” Sakura starts, eyes flicking up to his, “If you want to look for a bit, I could look, too.” There was a book Ino recommended a few weeks ago she could try to find, with some title about a spoiled flower. Probably a touch cheesy for her tastes, but it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, to have something to break up the rest of this information with.

Sasuke nods again.

XXX

A short time later, the bell on the door jingles as Sakura and Sasuke pour out of the library and into a darkened street, dimly lit by a nearby streetlight. She’d eventually located Spoiled Suitopi, ducking into the historical fiction room after watching Sasuke venture into the next one.

Sasuke checked out before she did, which means she didn’t get to see what he’d selected. More than a little curious, she flicks her gaze curiously down to his books and back up once they’re outside and within the projected light, a silent question.

He shifts the books carefully so that she may read the titles: Code of Kenjutsu, which denotes historical nonfiction regarding methods of swordplay, and The Daimyo in His Labyrinth. There’s an illustration of a samurai on the cover, which clues her in on its contents; it must be a documentation of the samurai-led overthrowing of the daimyo in the Land of Silence. She’s never been there, and she doubts Sasuke has been, either, given it’s beyond Shinobi boundaries.

She hadn’t known what to expect in terms of the books he would choose. Very Sasuke, she concludes fondly.

“These sound like you,” she observes quietly, peeking up. The streetlight is brighter against the gloaming now; it reflects, highly saturated, in the darkness of his iris, almost casting it with specks of gold atop catching silver. Somehow it reminds her of fireflies in the summer, brief gradients shifting in and out of existence in the dark. He’d mentioned fireflies in one of his letters, once; it was in the Land of Woods. Sakura wonders if he likes them.

She rotates in a way that is absent-minded, so that he can read the titles of her own texts, and enjoys studying his eye for a single lingering second as he reads.

“You read fiction, too,” he comments, and she snaps out of her reverie to shift the books back together in a neat stack.

Thinking of the type of fiction she usually prefers and its differences from the type Ino enjoys, Sakura laughs. “I try to. It’s a good mental reset after reading medical texts; everything starts to blur together after a while. This was actually a recommendation from Ino; she’s into the dramatic stuff, clearly. Sometimes they’re decent.”

There is a long moment of pause, after which Sasuke queries, “...A birthday extravaganza?”

Sakura feels her cheeks grow warm again, but manages to smile, albeit slightly timidly. “I wouldn’t call it that; she showed up at my apartment last weekend with ingredients for drinks, and then we watched terrible movies in my living room.”

She feels a little better, having had an opportunity to explain that.

“No Sai?”

Sakura blinks before shaking her head, resisting the urge to smile. The last time they watched a terrible movie with Sai, he’d tried out the protagonist’s ‘romance techniques’ on Ino for the better duration of a week, despite them being decisively asinine and absurd. “No, that’s a me and Ino thing,” she explains. “He doesn’t really pick up on the nuance of them being terrible, and we figure we don’t want to give him poor examples to follow… He’s got enough of those already, dating her.” A grin makes its way to her face, recalling when they went out drinking together last and actually went all out, for Sai’s birthday last November. Ino had to physically carry Sai home over her shoulder, smashed as he was. Sai has stuck to drinking pretty lightly, after that; mostly gin and tonics, or if he does do something stronger, he stops at one. Definitely no more strawberry daiquiris for him since then, though he did say he liked them. “Also, he can’t really handle his liquor.”

Sasuke blinks in a way that Sakura has learned over the years implies he’s contemplating something.

“He’s… interesting.”

Sakura shrugs; she’s used to it at this point, but it makes sense that Sasuke isn’t. “He’s better than he used to be, regarding the oversharing. Ino is worse, honestly.”

Sasuke appears as if he’s considering something for a long moment before shifting his observations upwards. Sakura shifts hers upwards as well; stars are beginning to eke into the dark above them, and there’s a bit of a breeze, the faintest aroma of sage fragrant in her nostrils.

She flicks her gaze once more to his iris to watch the incandescence catch, captivated but simultaneously brooding on how she doesn’t want this evening to end. They spent longer inside the library than she thought they would.

“Thank you for going with me,” she begins. “I’m sorry it took a little longer than I thought.”

Sasuke’s attention shifts back down to earth, and she nearly stops mid thought at the sight of his pupil trained on her.

Somehow she manages to speak. “You said your apartment is on the north side, right?”

He nods once.

“We could walk that direction, if you want,” she says. “There are a few newer things on that side of town I could point out that are kind of interesting. If…”

His eye is still focused solely on her. It makes her stop mid-sentence this go-around out of self-consciousness, army of butterflies parading between her ribs.

Strawberries don’t look as red at dusk, she reasons with herself inwardly, hoping her flush isn’t terribly obvious to him.

“If you haven’t seen them already, I mean,” she finishes the thought she was vocalizing finally, gesturing to his books. “We could drop off your books, too. Not as much to carry back, then, with the box and the laundry rack.”

“...I’d like that.” He says it quietly, voice softened like yesterday in her office, and Sakura realizes she also has been talking more quietly. She’s not sure if it’s the effects of spending the near last half hour in the library, or if it’s the fortitude of night, softening everything around them.

Always.

A smile chisels its way onto her mouth; she thinks it’s going to be carved into face permanently. She wonders how it’s possible to feel this happy.

They begin to make their way north, in step yet again. Streetlights guide the way, alongside the lights of windows in the residential housing, all in a row lining the path. It’s spellbinding, to see his shadow cast next to hers when they pass through each bloom of light.

How many years have I yearned for this? Sakura thinks, heart completely full as she stays in stride beside him. It’s still hard to believe that he’s here, when just yesterday she was wistfully observing the skyline, longing to see him, and there he was, materializing into her office with a gift so impossibly captivating it nearly made her heart stop.

And soft yet slightly chapped lips pressed to hers.

Oh.

What if…

Will he kiss me tonight?

She has to start prattling to distract herself from that thought, because otherwise she’s going to be nothing but a blushing mess the rest of the evening.

“Tsunade-shishou used to gamble there,” Sakura comments softly, almost absentmindedly, pointing out a casino on the corner before the thought can take further root. “It was her favorite, since it’s so close to the Hokage’s residence.”

Sasuke’s looking at her as if that is the most gripping fact in the world.

He’s looking at her.

Her lips turn upwards slightly, encouraged. “She used to call it lucky, even though she never won.”

“Did you go with?”

Sakura laughs. “Sometimes. I’m a decent gambler. Shizune usually took on that responsibility, though. Getting her back to the Hokage’s residence and whatnot.”

A few steps are taken past the intersection, then past the casino. Then he asks, “...Has Kakashi moved there now?”

Sakura shakes her head. “No, it’s sitting empty. He’s still in his old apartment.”

It quiets her a bit, and a juncture of seconds pass, in which she considers graveyards and memorials.

“I think it’s because his apartment’s close to where… where his teammate is buried. Rin.”

She’s left daisies there occasionally - gentleness and innocence - despite never having known her; she’s discerned, over the years, that Kakashi visits her headstone daily. Their old sensei has never verbally acknowledged it, but when she sees him again, the nearest times after leaving a few, he always gives her a look that she understands as appreciation.

The most important people in her life have all lost someone. It’s paramount to her that they be remembered.

Her gaze lingers on Sasuke, throat tight; he’s silent for a while, outwardly seeming awfully pensive.

“...Naruto’s house isn’t far from the Hokage’s office, either,” he remarks finally.

Both relief and happiness sink into her; relief because this is a lighter topic, and happiness because he didn’t mention he’d been by the Uzumakis’ house yet. Naruto is outlandishly proud of the place he and Hinata have put together, so it stands to reason he’d walk Sasuke by there; they planted some sweet-smelling annuals in the front, a couple of weeks ago. She’d admired the flowerbeds when she and Ino stopped by to walk with Hinata last weekend.

“The colors are too bold,” Ino had complained without any real malice before Hinata came out the front door, from the perspective of a seasoned florist. Constructive criticism, she’d called it; her best friend has picked up a slew of art terminology since dating Sai. “They hurt my eyes.”

Sakura had thought they were perfect for them, though. Some of the blue varieties gleamed close in hue to the color of Naruto’s eyes; she’d known in an instant that Hinata must have picked those ones. It’s an impulse she can relate to, one she finds heart-wrenchingly sweet, and besides that, Naruto deserves every bit of happiness, after what he’s gone through.

Sasuke does, too. Naruto getting him to at least swing by his new house is pretty good for a first full day back, especially since it likely was immediately after Ichiraku’s, though he probably hasn’t been inside yet.

She supposes that there’s plenty of time for that, now.

He really is here to stay.

“No, it’s not,” she agrees, unable to contain her utter joy at learning this information; she’s so happy at that moment for Naruto to have his best friend back. “I’m pretty sure that was on purpose; I don’t think they intend to move again. I’m sure he’ll give you the tour eventually - he’s pretty proud of their place; Hinata keeps it pretty nice - but it has some extra rooms.”

Sasuke doesn’t say anything about that, and Sakura immediately understands why. It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that their teammate, such a knucklehead, is at a point where he could possibly start a family. It seems like just yesterday they were twelve years old and he could barely make it to mission meetings on time while also showering beforehand. Sakura’s sure, though, that whenever that point comes, he’ll make about as loving of a father as is humanly possible. Hinata will be an incredible mother, too.

She points out the yakitori place she likes as they cross another intersection; they’re getting closer to the northern side of town. Sakura goes there with Hinata and Naruto whenever they can convince her teammate to eat something other than ramen. Hinata’s partial to their tare sauce, but Sakura just likes the way they sear the chicken to perfection and how they give it the perfect addition of salt and black pepper. It’s savory, and delicious with a little lemon juice on the side.

“Is she still as quiet?” Sasuke asks, referring to Hinata.

Sakura contemplates, considering how different the Hinata of the present is compared to when they were kids, which is likely how Sasuke remembers her, given he hadn’t lingered in the village for long after the war.

“She talks more now, for sure, but she’s still pretty shy around people she doesn’t know well.” Sakura smiles, then. Hinata really has blossomed, and though much of it is her own determination and doing, it’s helped that she’s paired up with someone so incredibly outgoing and friendly. It’s really brought her out of her shell.

In turn, she’s also caused Naruto to act more like an adult, eating legitimate, nutritionally-balanced meals regularly and forcing him to go to the dentist when he gets a toothache. He used to come to Sakura about those; she’s put multiple teeth back into his mouth with chakra, tethering them again by the root, and he’d assumed that meant she could magically drill out cavities and create fillings, too. She’d dragged him by the ear to the dentist twice, insistent he see a professional, and both times he’d run off, which was utterly ridiculous for someone who’d stared down some of the worst threats in existence and lived to tell the tale.

Hinata had finally convinced him to go get checked out, once they were married, and he’d had eleven cavities. She’s pretty sure she’d babied him after getting them filled, making him special food that didn’t hurt his teeth.

It would be clear to any outsider, seeing them together, that they’re an excellent match. Doting lovebirds, she’s thought of on more than one occasion.

“I think Naruto has been really good for her, actually,” she adds. “Her for him, too; they balance each other out well.”

“...He had vegetables in his ramen today.”

Sakura can’t help it; she laughs. Such a Sasuke thing to notice. “Yes, she does force vegetables into his food every once in a while now, so he’s more used to them. I think she might have slipped Teuchi some money to start throwing them in his orders, to be honest.”

Sasuke snorts; apparently he finds that funny. Sakura grins.

It’s so lovely to see his version of a laugh.

“It’s for the best,” she continues. “He was eating pretty much all noodles and junk for so long. Hopefully it’ll start to cancel out with a few more years.”

They meander in an easy silence, darkness further blanketing Konoha. The flowers of spring are omnipresent, conveying every possible message of hanakotoba, though they’re cloaked in nightfall. Any flower pairing is possible, in this lighting. Less worry about clash of hues and contrast and texture, and an intensified focus on the underlying messages at hand.

Sakura finds it fitting, since she seems to be feeling nearly the complete scope of human emotions all at once, butterflies buzzing in her chest here with him, walking together like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s as if the past two years he’s been gone are slowly melting away, part of the past in a way she can scarcely believe.

There’s pale amaryllis, symbolizing shyness, and iris, for good news. Lily of the valley are clustered in two door-framing pots surrounding an apartment building. Sweet, also a good descriptor for this evening.

Sakura’s gaze lingers on forget-me-nots, planted in a window bed, painted almost the color of steel in the lack of light.

Or silver.

When she goes to steal a glance at him, a familiar building falls into her line of sight, pulling her from her reverie.

“There’s an interesting place over there,” she says softly, gesturing to the antique shop. “They’re only open two or three days a week, but it’s antiques now. I don’t usually buy anything other than books, but it’s fun to look through; they get rare ones in, from time to time. The owner is really nice.”

Sasuke nods without saying anything. Sakura wonders if he would find anything in an antique shop to be particularly engrossing. He’s always struck her as more traditional, given the early part of his upbringing; she presumes he would like old things, but he’s also been traveling light for the better part of two years, so it’s difficult to gauge.

She’s picturing a dark diamond that matches his eye, ambling in step with him and enjoying herself immensely, when he offers quietly, “...My building is a few blocks this way.”

Sakura meets his gaze, captivated for a long moment.

Exactly alike, she thinks, somehow managing to nod, heart turning over in her chest as she begins to follow his lead.

It’s only a couple more blocks, passing by residential buildings framed by new buds, honeysuckle and morning glories. Eventually Sasuke gestures towards a gray-bricked building, coming into view as they pass beneath a late-blooming cherry blossom tree.

It’s an older one, bigger than hers, and just far enough north that it’s extremely quiet just now, away from the central hub of the village. Her heart warms as she inclines her head, because her apartment building is older, too, and constructed of a similar brick, and she thought he would like an older place, established. She can see the stars here, too, with how little light pollution there is. Just like her area of town.

Sakura loves stargazing. She has since she was a kid, dotting constellations together in her family’s backyard with her father. She wonders if Sasuke likes observing the stars. She knows he’s perceptive, from his letters, and that he must enjoy certain sceneries. He’d written descriptions of them often, hauntingly poetic in ways that made a mess of her heartstrings.

She has to say something, because she’s going to become overwhelmed with emotion and sentimentality, otherwise, dwelling on Sasuke having a permanent living space in Konoha after so many years away, in a location she deems near perfect for him.

And also for her; her apartment is only around ten minutes away from here.

“Sai used to live somewhere over in this area, before he moved in with Ino,” she babbles. “I’m not sure where, exactly. I know he liked how quiet it was, though.”

Sasuke nods as they begin to cross the street, pulling a key from his pocket.

Once they’ve reached the other side, she picks a spot to lean back against the brick as she says, “I’ll wait here.” She wants to be polite, and she recalls that he likes his space, and anyways, even if he did invite her in to see his apartment, she thinks it may be too much for her, tonight. She still feels a little choked up, presently.

Sasuke disappears up the stairway with his books; his apartment must be on the second floor. Another nice coincidence; hers is, also.

Once she knows he’s out of immediate hearing range, she breathes in deeply and exhales slowly, affection and elation twirling in her ribcage all at once as she takes in the stars above, unable to contain her smile.

Sasuke’s back in less than a minute, light steps down the staircase. The smile’s still stuck on her face, so she turns it to him.

Does he have any idea how happy I am right now?

Then he holds out his hand.

She stares at his calloused fingers, puzzled, then flushes when she realizes he’s offering to carry her books for her again.

Carefully, Sakura hands them over, heart clenching as she says quietly, “My place is a little south of the library; not by too much.” She averts her gaze away shyly, smile still stuck on her face. “Maybe a little over ten minutes from here.”

Crickets chirp as they change directions, her leading the way. The roads are truly secluded now; most people are home on a Wednesday night, she supposes. An errant breeze blows smoke and sage her way, the aroma slightly more subdued than it was upon his return. He probably had no reason to use his Katon no Jutsu today, she surmises, thus the lessening in intensity.

They pass by the library again, lights switched off and windows pulled closed for the night, wrapped in a veneer of easy silence.

Sakura may or may not choose this point to purposely slow her steps to prolong the inevitable. She doesn’t want this evening to end.

Eventually they make it to her area of town. She surveys it carefully with new eyes, trying to ascertain how it must appear to him. Mostly old construction with old growth, vines twisting up the sides of several buildings. It’s not quite as secluded as the area of town he’s in, but it’s fairly close.

She manages to drag the pace enough to make the excursion last twelve minutes instead of ten.

“That’s the one,” she murmurs, pointing towards the cream brick of her building as the contrast of the stars against the sky reaches full luminosity.

Unfortunately, night has fully arrived, and with it the eminent denouement of this evening.

“There’s a patio or balcony attached to each unit,” she finds herself saying once they’re closer, gesturing upwards to hers. “That one’s mine.” Seeing it now from a new perspective, she wonders if perhaps she has too many plants. Yuna’s balcony has several pots filled with greenery, but not nearly as many as hers. Takane’s has hardly any, all hardy little things that rarely need watering. The ladies downstairs have simple raised beds, organized and practical, framing their patios away from the street. In comparison, her outdoor space almost appears cluttered. She likes growing things, though; it’s in her blood, given her upbringing, and it’s good to have a variety on hand for her and Ino’s bouquets of chance each week.

“It’s one of the reasons I chose this one, aside from it being close to family and the hospital,” she explains softly as they turn the corner, suddenly filled with nerves for some reason.

Okay, not for some reason. A singular reason.

“My parents’ house has balconies for both bedrooms. It was strange to imagine not having one,” she continues, trying and failing to think about anything other than the possibilities with which to conclude this evening, chapped yet soft lips being the one she’s hoping for. “This one’s attached to the bedroom, too; it’s nice to sit out there, if the weather’s not too extreme.”

They pass through the glass door and into the common area, where she heads to the stairs. A slim amount of moonlight filters in through the bay window, small diamonds sprawled across the flooring, cast upon her downstairs neighbors’ potted plants.

Her cheeks color as she casts a glimpse behind her, where he’s finished coming up the stairs to the landing. Sasuke trails behind her to the far end, where he moves to lean slightly against the railing behind him.

I wonder if I should invite him in? She deliberates as she digs for her keys in her tote bag, adrenaline coursing through her. Maybe that’s too forward.

The key clicks in the door as she turns it. Once she’s opened the door slightly, she rotates to face him with arms extended outwards to take her books.

She doesn’t mean to touch him, but she does; her hand grazes his, calloused and incredibly disorienting.

“I’ll be right back,” Sakura says softly, smiling and trying to ignore the way her pulse has spiked, butterflies a storm in her chest cavity.

She leaves the door ajar slightly behind her, placing her books on her entryway console and hanging her keys and bag. Grabbing the folded drying rack from the laundry room and the box from her closet barely takes thirty seconds.

She takes a deep breath, trying to exhale the nerves slowly before she goes back to the landing. Come on, Sakura.

It’s no use. Her heart is still racing a mile a minute, threatening to careen right out of her chest. She steps out her front door again anyway, closing it slightly behind her and tilting her chin upwards to regard him.

Not fair, she thinks weakly, utterly pulverized by how handsome he is as she hands both items to him.

“Thank you,” Sasuke murmurs, voice somewhat husky in a way that makes each hair on her neck stand on end.

“You’re welcome,” she somehow manages to respond softly, despite her voice feeling like it may get caught in her throat on her next inhale. Her line of sight locks on him, drawn like a moth to a flame.

He looks back for a long moment, as if studying her. Sakura tries very hard to force the color from her face, self-conscious under his gaze.

This is beyond butterflies in her stomach. It feels as though said butterflies are rearranging all her internal organs, tangling them together until her insides are nervous mush. Capillaries tied in knots, bronchial tube whip stitching itself into her lungs, heart somehow absorbing the cherished aggregate of this evening all at once.

“...May I see you tomorrow after you work?” He finally asks.

Her smile falters for a second, because there’s absolutely nothing she would rather do than see him again - her heart’s soaring at the vocalization of it on his part - but she already has plans with her family.

“I would love to see you,” she begins, desiring to make that part exorbitantly clear, “but I have dinner with my parents every other Thursday, since I get off at four. They stopped by for a visit on my actual birthday, but they wanted to do cake and a gift tomorrow night after our usual supper time.”

Sakura takes a brief opportunity to search his expression, trying to swallow the small voice ricocheting inside her head, the one that can recite word-for-word on cue each instance of rejection on his part from when they were Genin.

They’re not twelve anymore, though.

Just say it. He asked first, after all.

“Maybe the day after tomorrow, if you’re not busy? I get off around four on Fridays, too.”

Sasuke nods in agreement, and her conglomerate of nerves relaxes in relief, the little voice shrinking away.

“...I’ll meet you at the hospital, then.”

She can barely contain the widening of her smile, lips pulling upwards as if buoyed by the alternate gravity again. “Okay. I can show you around the other newer parts of the village, if you’d like. The southwest side has really expanded.”

He inclines his head again, and every cell in her body rejoices.

There’s a long second where Sasuke’s eyes wash over her, as if they’re frozen in this quandary of anticipation.

Is he going to…?

“...And Saturday?”

Sakura blinks as her face reddens, smile growing wider still, because that’s not what she’d foreseen him doing or saying, but somehow it’s even better. She peers down at the ground briefly, shyly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Saturdays I work seven to three; I’m going to stop by the market after for some gardening supplies with Ino, but other than that, I didn’t have anything set in stone.”

She says it without thinking too much about it, easy congruence, so it doesn’t hit her until the moment the words finish leaving her mouth.

In the mess of ongoing tactical strategy in her chest cavity, she’s forgotten something important, something she promised to mention. She shifts her attention back up to observe him fully, and she’s not sure if she’s ever going to get used to how tall he is now or the funny things it does to her insides.

There’s an unreadable expression on his face, one that perplexes her, lips set slightly differently than they were just seconds ago. She’s not sure what the shift means, but it forces the rest of the words out of her mouth.

“Naruto sent a clone by this afternoon that was going on about an original Team Seven reunion dinner, though. He mentioned Saturday night as a possibility,” Sakura elaborates quickly.

The pensive expression evaporates as quickly as it appeared. Before she can place what it is, Sasuke huffs in a manner that suggests he’s mildly amused.

“...Of course he did.”

Sakura sighs in turn, shaking her head. “Ichiraku’s, I’m sure. I’m pretty sure I’ve tried everything on the menu in triplicate, at this point.”

He’s studying her carefully. The army commits to shoving her heart upwards into her throat under his continued attention, on the brink of completely losing herself in the vast realm of atrament that is his iris.

“...After dinner?”

Her vision blurs slightly as she beams at him, absolutely over the moon.

It is in that moment, when the expression flickers briefly back into existence, that she manages to place it; the subtle shift in his countenance, the unique set of his mouth. If she hadn’t known him since they were kids, if she wasn’t well-versed in trying to decipher his tells, she wouldn’t have caught it.

It’s vulnerability. Just a hint of it, but it’s there.

Oh, Sasuke.

“Of course,” she affirms immediately. “We could… hang out here, if you want.” She pauses, then affixes, “Or was there something you had in mind?”

Facets of silver lock on her, expression settling back to normal. “Here is fine.”

“Okay,” she agrees, exultation sinking into her veins. Her face almost hurts from smiling so widely. “I’ll look forward to it.”

A beat passes where she simply studies him, a silent symphony of happy chemicals gushing in her veins, almost still in disbelief that he’s here, on her doorstep.

“Would you…” The first part is out before she has the opportunity to overassess it, to nervously recall the sting of rejection from so long ago. Sakura shifts her weight from one foot to the other again.

But he asked already. So…

Her confidence is bolstered by that. “Would you want to maybe… have tea tomorrow morning? I’m… not sure if you have plans or not, but I have a little time, before I work.” She remembers him drinking tea when they were younger, in the morning on missions, or when they went somewhere to eat as a team together. It was nearly always some variety of green tea. Actually, now that she’s thinking about it, she’s pretty sure he drank tea in the hospital, too, when it was offered to him, those first few days recovering after the war. “There’s a good place near the hospital, and then after we could get your exam done at eight like we planned.”

Her voice gets incrementally smaller as she finishes the question, and she fidgets slightly in the lengthy seconds it takes him to answer, butterflies swimming in the tumultuous sea her stomach has become.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t like tea anymore. That was a long time ago. Or maybe he doesn’t want to go anywhere public like that just yet? He did just get back. He probably hasn’t been around other people for extended periods of time like that for a while, and he already was at Ichiraku’s today. And the library. And stores, moving into his apartment. That’s a recipe for social overload. I’m asking too much; maybe that’s enough being in public for a bit. Or-

“...I’ll look forward to it,” Sasuke answers quietly, sincerely.

Both her veins and her heart sing with relief as she relaxes. “Oh,” she breathes, then adds as her face heats, “Good.”

“...I can meet you here,” he offers, laconic, and tears cloud her vision briefly, again, because there’s an insinuation in the simplicity of that statement, that he wants to walk there together, too. “What time?”

Sakura purses her lips, deliberating.

“Would… seven be too early?” Her voice gets quieter towards the end of the question, partly because she’s still a little nervous and partly because her throat feels tight with the tears she’s fighting to keep in their ducts.

She hopes that’s not asking for too much.

He doesn’t take long to answer. “Not at all.”

The butterflies wrench themselves free, wreaking havoc on her insides as she flushes, mesmerized by the way he seems to be fixated on her, backlit by moonlight and small diamond patterning creeping over his shoulders.

Like he’s happy. It’s an expression that she could get used to seeing on him, one she’s going to cherish forever.

It’s then that she realizes it: at some point between coming back out here on the landing and making these plans, she has invaded his space, mere inches away.

She also realizes that he’s not stepping back to reestablish that boundary, that he’s made no attempt to leave yet. They’re alone, here; they have some sort of privacy in nearly all respects, given that her neighbors are either away or gone to bed already.

Is he going to…?

Sasuke leans down, and she’s close enough that she can see a marginal violescence, characteristic of his left eye, as he shifts.

Oh. He is.

She exhales carefully through her nose, more pleased than words could possibly describe; she’s been recollecting the feel of his lips against hers all evening, since they left the library. They’re slightly less chapped than yesterday, yet somehow still soft, and there’s a single flash of clarity in which she realizes his use of Katon no Jutsu is likely where that comes from, but that thought quickly unravels as he fits his mouth to hers.

She’s standing on tiptoe, hands meeting his chest carefully as if pulled there by an invisible thread of their own accord. She can feel the faint drumming of his heart, strong. It’s hard to tell if it’s beating as fast as hers, distracted as she is, dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin rallying what’s going on in her chest.

It’s over sooner than she wants it to be, but she supposes they still have to be able to breathe. Oxygen is rather essential.

She’s certain she’s blushing redder than she ever has in her life, so she shyly directs her gaze away for a moment as she shifts back off her tiptoes.

It doesn’t work super well, because her hands and arms, directly in her line of sight as her gaze shifts, are still on his chest.

Tall, she thinks weakly.

“I’m… really happy you’re back,” she says softly, voice thick with emotion but enunciating every word, managing to meet his eyes directly as the sentiment leaves her lips. Sakura is sure it’s more than clear to him, by the way her cheeks have been all evening, but she wants to vocalize it all the same, for him to know how desperately missed he was.

She can feel it; his pulse pounding just below her fingertips, a thudding tempo that does feel slightly elevated, once the words are out of her mouth.

“I am, too,” Sasuke whispers.

Sakura doesn’t expect him to kiss her again, but he does.

It’s somehow sweeter than the last, solidification of everything she’s thought about for the past twenty-four hours, the tender minutiae and intimacy of his mouth meeting hers, willing a profundity out of her heart that has only ever existed for him alone.

She gently pulls her hands back to herself when they finally part, grinning upwards. The moon’s aglow behind him. How many times has she looked ardently to the moon and thought of him, wondering where he is?

Tonight she’ll know.

“Good night, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura finally murmurs. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“...Good night, Sakura,” he responds, voice still husky.

Once her door closes behind her with a soft click, she considers sinking against it, absolutely overwhelmed with an abundance of emotions and something newly epochal. Joy threads through her veins as the strongest contender, nearly overtaking her.

The butterflies push her to her room instead, fluttering just behind her ribcage to the extent that she feels buoyant even as she takes the seat at her vanity.

Her fingers ghost over the pale wood and stitching, wholeheartedly smitten with how breath-taking his gift is, gently tracing cherry blossom branches as they morph into fine petals before running her hands over her name, etched into the handle. The saccharine feeling in her chest doesn’t let up even then, army bombarding away at her insides with nothing but sweetness, steadfast.

Eventually she prepares her customary evening tea, sipping it slowly before she goes to sleep, nearly intoxicated on the recall of sage and woodsmoke and greatly looking forward to tomorrow.

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