A Thousand Years
Naruto © Kishimoto Masashi, et al.
1.
On the third evening, the restaurant owner came over to Sakura's table. He wiped the back of his neck with a greasy hand towel and sat down in front her. "I don't think he's coming tonight, miss. He may not even be the person you're looking for. Although I do admit he's not the type that gets easily mistaken for someone else."
Sakura laid the chopsticks across her empty bowl. "You mentioned the symbol on the back of his clothes, so I believe that he is the person I'm looking for. I apologize for coming here every night - if I'm bothering you, please let me know."
"Not at all, not all. You pay for your food, don't you?" The restaurant owner rubbed at his receding hairline. "No one in this village ever saw that hideout, though, or any sign of it. It may be nothing but lore. And even if the hideout does exist, the clan that owns it may not be the one your friend belongs to. I'm not trying to put you off, you understand - pointing out possibilities is all I'm doing."
"But since he has come here more than once to have his meal, the hideout - if it's nearby - must be connected to him in some way."
"Huh." The restaurant owner seemed reluctant, not to acknowledge her logic but to endorse the conviction with which it was spoken. "For your sake, I hope you're right."
Four days ago Sakura passed through the small secluded village, and had her dinner at this restaurant. Before she knew it, she was engaged in a conversation with the owner, who claimed that this was not a path often traveled by shinobi, especially lone female ones. Seeing the symbol on her back, he remarked about a man who had come to the restaurant three or four times during the past several weeks. On every occasion, the man wore clothes with a red and white fan-like symbol on the back. He never spoke, and gave his order by simply gesturing at the menu scrolls on the wall. When Sakura probed further, it was revealed that, when the owner was a small boy, there used to be a rumor about a secret hideout. According to the rumor, the hideout belonged to an ancient clan and was located inside the woods surrounding the village. The rumor died out eventually as no solid proof of the hideout's existence ever came forward.
Sakura had her doubts about the story, but she had learned not to dismiss coincidences. She rented a room at the village inn and went to the restaurant for dinner every night, waiting for the man described by the owner to reappear. She knew that this impulse of hers might result in disappointment, that Sasuke might have gone someplace else. Or he might have seen her and was staying away until she moved on. However, neither could she leave this stone unturned; if she did, she would regret it more and more as time went by.
The restaurant owner was now pushing himself to his feet. "I wish you luck."
"Thank you."
"You like what we serve here, at least?"
That provoked a smile. "Your food is excellent. May I have another bowl, please?"
After the owner left, Sakura folded her arms on the table and leaned on them, head down. She had spent the last three days scouring the woods, and she planned to extend the search area tomorrow. That she had found no clue to the hideout's location so far came as no surprise, but it was maddening nonetheless. It made her feel as if she had reverted back to a confused little girl, one who was helpless before that fierce, dogged determination only an Uchiha could possess. A familiar cycle; a journey she had nobody to blame for, not even herself.
There was a movement on the seat behind her. Sakura stiffened in reflex, not having sensed a human presence earlier - when did the person arrive or sit down, and why had she not noticed? Was it a hostile party? Was a kunai being furtively aimed at her even now?
The person spoke. "I've been watching you since you got here to make sure you're completely alone. So far it looks like you are."
She knew it was his voice only because she had replayed the memory of it many times - too many, once upon an era. The momentary lurch of her heartbeat, therefore, was not as painful as it otherwise would have been. A surge of relief swept through her - her decision to linger in this village had thankfully turned out to be correct - followed by disorientation, brief but almost nauseating in its intensity. Here they were again. After all these years, here they were, and she was not sure how much had truly changed between them.
"You're doing well," she said, making it a statement.
"I am. So are you, I can tell. I still can't figure out why you've been hanging around this village, though. I thought chasing me about has gone out of vogue long ago. Since Naruto died, to be exact."
Had he aged much, she wondered. Had his skin darkened from the sun and the weather? Did his hair perhaps turn a premature gray? And yet looking was for later; now was not the time. "He never stopped searching for you - we both did. If he were still alive, he'd be right here with me."
"And you two could drown your sorrows together, and I needn't even make my presence known. But you haven't answered my question. Why are you here? You're on your own, and you're not wearing the Konoha headband, so I can assume this isn't a ruse to capture me and bring me back for trial. Of course, I've been a fugitive from Konoha for almost ten years now, but cases like this don't ever expire. Or do they?"
Her order arrived, and she began to eat. "Konoha hasn't sent me to capture you, that much is true."
"So you're - what? - on a self-assigned mission to find your ex-teammate, the bond with whom you've been refusing to cut off?" His tone was flat, but held no note of disdain.
"The way you say it, you seem to believe it's not beyond me to have grown into a shinobi who can be a match for even you, an Uchiha. Either that, or I'm reading too much into your words."
He let out an audible sigh. The memories brought on by the sound were sharp around the edges. "I repeat - what do you want?"
"To see you. That's all. And I suppose now you'd think I'm being sentimental and stupid."
"As a matter of fact, I think you're being you - by which I mean you're being the Haruno Sakura I used to know." He got up, started to walk past her table, then stopped next to it. She kept her eyes on the bowl, ears straining. "If you go into the woods and walk north for fifteen minutes," he continued softly, "you'll see a wide clearing. You've probably been there several times already. Meet me tomorrow morning at seven. The Haruno Sakura I used to know would do her utmost to become a worthy opponent for an Uchiha. Prove to me that I'm not mistaken. Then we can talk."
She raised her head then, but he was already halfway toward the door. His hair was as she remembered it, without a thread of gray. And then he was gone.
She released the breath she had been consciously holding, and finished the rest of the soup heartily. Nothing like a full stomach and a night's worth of sound sleep to help you enter a battle ready and armed. Naruto had taught her that, and more besides.
2.
The clearing was so wide it resembled an open field in the middle of the woods. The trees around it were sparse, allowing for more sunlight and giving the impression of extra space. Sakura had indeed been here several times during her search, and she had found nothing striking about the place other than its size. In retrospect, this could be where Sasuke had first seen her, and thus the approach at the restaurant.
He was standing with his back to her when she arrived from the direction of the village. He carried no weapon, she noticed, not even a weapon pouch. There was no fan-like symbol on his clothes today, which were plain black and short-sleeved.
"I'm surprised that you go to a public place at all," she said, stopping a few meters behind him. "With the Uchiha symbol on display for everyone to see, too. Weren't you afraid some passing Konoha shinobi might see you and send back a report?"
"Does the current Hokage still have the time and inclination to pursue my case?"
"I wouldn't know. I haven't been to Konoha for a while. But maybe he does, though it can't be a top priority."
As she spoke, he slowly turned around, and she could see him clearly for the first time. His face had thinned out, causing his cheekbones to stand out like blunted blades. A ghostly white scar from a long-ago skirmish ran across his chin like a permanent scratch-mark.
To rebuild my clan, she suddenly thought. To kill a man.
When someone did not wish for happiness, they sometimes meant it.
"Don't tell me," he was saying, "that you're a Konoha fugitive too? Since you're not wearing their headband and all that?"
"No, I don't think I'm a fugitive." She touched her hair self-consciously, smiled a little. "I did leave Konoha, though. I realized that what I truly love may not be the village itself but the people - Naruto, my teachers, my parents. After they were gone, I was terribly heartbroken. I made excuses, then walked away. And now I'm far too ashamed to admit myself back in - to atone for my cowardice back then. How much have you heard about what happened five years ago?"
He shrugged. "I heard as much as anyone would. The Kyuubi broke free from its seal at the very same hour Akatsuki launched a frontal attack on Konoha. The villagers managed to stop both of them, but many, including those we knew from our academy days, paid for it with their lives."
"Yes, that about sums it up. So I went and made my own way in the world. I know my leaving was terribly selfish and ungrateful - which is why I haven't been to Konoha since then. Well, maybe one day, when those who know me are already too old to care about my past misdeeds." She smiled again, less wholeheartedly this time. "But we're here for a fight, aren't we? I see you don't have your sword with you. So this is going to be a hand-to-hand combat, right?" The cheeriness with which she spoke felt incongruous bordering on ghastly, but she was determined not to be too solemn. Back when they were young, his dark moods had always subdued her, sent waves of corresponding anxiety crashing into her. Never again.
He advanced on her leisurely, like a person about to offer a casual handshake. "Do you bring any weapon yourself?"
"Just the usual." Now that they had gotten into business, she felt both a greater sense of relaxation and heightened awareness.
"Yes, it is going to be a hand-to-hand combat. No chakra or weapons, or deliberate wounding. The one who physically or mentally injures the opponent loses. Do you accept?"
The use of his chakra would put her at a disadvantage; he tacitly admitted this, and had made rules that were fair without dismissing the possibility that she might surpass him in certain areas. "I accept."
"Then we can begin."
She flew at him as soon as the last syllable was spoken, the side of her arm lashing out toward his neck. As he leaped back and out of reach, her body rotated and her leg swept out in an arc. Her heel missed his kneecap by an inch. She sprang forward, raining furious fists on him, forcing him to move backward, keeping an eye out for the slightest hint of change in the rhythm of his movement.
The best defense is in the offense, she repeated over and over to herself. Then: Why doesn't he strike back?
Without warning his hand shot forward and his knuckles smashed against the inside of her wrist. The impact jarred her all the way to the shoulder, and she jumped away from him; he launched himself at her, one fist aiming for her torso. She managed to sidestep the blow only at the last second, regaining her balance through sheer will. When his foot struck out, she whirled around and ran, out of the clearing and into the forest.
Trees and shrubs blurred past her as she pumped her legs, pushing out all thoughts, bent on only two things: staying ahead of him and not getting her feet snagged on roots or stones. When she felt a finger brush her bare arm, she swerved, leaped up onto a tall oak tree, and began to climb as fast as she could.
Adrenaline made her head giddy but her blood sing - she was alive, she was skillful, she was in control of herself. She felt rather than saw him moving up the tree next to her, no longer a clumsy twelve-year-old Genin but a seasoned fighter. For some reason this thrilled her, filled her heart with joy to bursting point for the first time since her beloved people died.
And then she was at the top of the tree, she was somersaulting, and she was sitting on the highest branch, each breath ripping in and out of her, a large grin on her face - the morning was so clear, her view of the woods impossibly unhindered. Her left arm, whose wrist had received his blow, ached, but that was unimportant, a trifling detail. She swung her feet back and forth and turned her grin on the tree to her left, where Sasuke was standing on a branch slightly lower than hers. He was regarding her with mild, almost polite curiosity.
"Maybe all this exercise is making me a little drunk," she started to confess. What stopped her was the mental image of a young girl who stared with large, worried eyes at a boy's diminishing back, a boy who cared little for her promises and her tenacity. She supposed the man that the boy had become would not be too keen on seeing that girl again. "Well," she said, more calmly. "Now we know that I remain the better climber between the two of us."
If he was miffed, he hid it thoroughly. "As I said, we can talk now, if you like."
"All right." Her feet stopped swinging, became still. "So what do you think? Is Haruno Sakura a worthy opponent for an Uchiha now?"
"Probably."
"Fantastic," she stated, for once wishing she were twelve again, so she could laugh happily and clasp her hands together. "Can I come over there? This branch is too thin, I'm afraid it's going to crack if I keep on sitting here."
The branch he was standing on did prove to be sturdier and was able to support both of them easily. She sat with her knees together, while he remained standing beside her. Even at this altitude, the wind was drafty at best. The sun was growing hot, preternaturally so; it was shaping up to be a torrid summer's day.
"Where are you going after this?" She must have looked stunned, because he added, "I'm just asking. I'm not telling you to take off right this minute."
The one thing she had to say struggled with all the words she wanted him to hear. "I wish you well," she said finally. "You've always been fine on your own, I know that, but - "
"Well-wishes don't make things happen. Actions do."
Suddenly, just like that, she knew why Naruto used to call Sasuke names with such absolute certainty. "Do me this favor, for the sake of our old team. Accept my wishes because I'll never have the chance to give them to you again."
"Wishes accepted. Good luck to you too, and your journey."
The confusion of the previous night was creeping back in. They both had changed, and yet she still could not stay with him. It was very simple and also very complicated at the same time. She gave a lopsided smile. "Thank you."
He glanced at the sea of leaves around them. "I'll be here for a couple more years. Unless you tell Konoha of my whereabouts."
"They may have decided that you're a closed case, like you've mentioned."
"They could. Anyway, I may go to that restaurant again sometime, in case you're interested in knowing. I'll try not to stand out and leave the Uchiha symbol at the hideout."
Her throat felt constricted. There had been a change between them, after all - a small shift, for change was too generous a word - and she was thankful for that much. Hoping for more would be untimely. "Sasuke-kun - "
He knelt down on the branch, muscles tensed, preparing for a jump. "What?"
"Nothing. I love their menu, that's all."
"It's passable, I'll give them that." He was scanning the branches below, pretending not to notice her hoarse voice, the glint in her eyes which she blinked away. "Meanwhile, let's see if you can get down as quickly as you go up."