He has come.

They do not take it lightly; they boo and hiss and rattle their chains, but he simply ignores them.

She does not boo. She does not hiss. She does not rattle her chains.

She watches.

He notices her, eventually, and, across the sea of slaves, they stare at each other.

She thinks she sees regret in his eyes, and he glimpses surrender in hers.

They are both wrong.

welcome home, sasuke.

I have been revising for the past two and a half hours, and if I see one more diagram of a freaking rock, I'll scream.

Sakura isn't dead! Huzzah! She's just... a slave.

... What do I have against Sakura? It's all subconscious I swear.