Chapter 2
The Uchiha


The air is chilled in the early morning as it has been in the last weeks since their joining and yet nothing is questioned. His clan has welcomed her easily enough and only minor gossip seems to follow her trail after his public performance.

Madara had made it clear not to bed her. Madara seeks for him to have pure children. At first he doesn't not question it. His thoughts are among the same as his leader, but it's within that same notion that he then questions why he had made him wed the creature of spring at all. Why have him take her hand when he would be expected to provide heirs?

He quickly learns from his fellow higher ups days before the upcoming meeting that a Senju had held his eyes on her before she had taken his name.

His marriage was simply another round of politics.

It left a bitter distaste in his mouth, but his village, and his men meant more to him than some freedom of a spring nymph.

There is a stiffness in the air as they are welcomed into a home so far from their own. She trails behind him and he can feel the nervousness that seemingly pours from her being. He know she is not used to attending meetings such as these. There is no doubt though she will continue to adjust and get used to them within time. These would be something she attended alongside him as long as the war continued on.

Her timid fingers brush against his and it's in that brief touch that he shifts his gaze to her as they follow Madara and the maids that welcome them deeper into the house. Those that trail behind her are already accustomed to these meetings, and hold none of her nervousness. Her rose-colored locks are pinned upon her head, and the cheongsam is of a white fading to rich teal with large floral patterns blossoming upon it. The nymph looks elegant in her ways and traditions, but it only furthers to make her stand out among those present.

As they fill the room he cannot help but let his ebony fall upon the boy that stands to protect their host. They are of distant relation—the Hyuuga—and yet he feels no true family bond with this clan. The bond they share is that of allies, nonetheless. The pale of his eyes showcase his linage that could not be disputed. They had fought beside each other enough times that there is recognition within the shared gaze. Neji Hyuuga was strong—there was no disputing it. He was a prodigy in his own rights. The times in which they had, had missions together had always been fruitful, and without much mistake.

Taking his seat his otherworldly wife follows. He notes her eyes looking upon the Hyuuga members that sit at the table, but there is no surprise decorating her features. He notes a whisper from Neji to their host, Hiashi Hyuuga. Moments later the Hyuuga boy has made his way beside his wife. There is a series of hushed whispers between them easily caught by his ears. The interaction is one that gives way to momentary interest.

"It's been long Sakura-san." there was a fondness to his voice that Sasuke had not expected.

"It has Neji-san. I hope you've been in good health." he doesn't need to look at her to know there is a smile—genuine to the core—upon her face as she speaks this.

"I had heard of Sasuke-sama's marriage but did not expect it to be with you."

"Ah, it was a surprise for many, I promise." she speaks with a hint of humor.

The interaction is called to a halt at Hiashi's voice. He calls forth their attention to start their meeting now that all that attend have taken their designated spot at the table. Madara sits at one end, and Hiashi, and his wife at the other. The high ranking members of the Uchiha—Izuna, Obito, Kagami, and himself—sit along one side, whilst the high ranking of the Hyuuga—Ko, Tokuma, Iroha, and Neji—sit along the other. The spouses of the wed are seated properly beside their husbands, but will hold no part in the meeting.

The discussions are intense as they deliberate over possible peace talks with the Senju, and Uzumaki. Hiashi opens the floor to those of high rank to say their thoughts. Hyuuga, and Uchiha alike raise their concerns of what peace could occur with the losses sustained on both sides. There is surprise that the Hyuuga seem to be considering it far more than that of his clansmen, but Madara's word is all it will take to make them agree.

"The possibility of this putting you, and Madara-sama in danger is high." Obito's voice is tight upon the room making them all gaze upon him, "The Senju, and Uzumaki have taken many from our families over their proclaimed ideals of love. Who is to say this talk of peace is not to take you from us as well?"

Sasuke cannot fault his bitterness as he too is among those Obito speaks of. He finds no reason for peace talks. Where were the peace talks as he grew up in this war? Where were the peace talks before his mother and father were slaughtered? The Senju deserved what came their way with their weak sense of ideals, and the robbing of his brother loyalty. The animosity he felt could not be extinguished with such talks.

"We seek to lose even more as it progresses if there isn't an attempt at peace talks." Iroha responds in solemnity.

This only provokes more arguments among those present. Fists are slamming upon the table and voices are raising. He feels his wife startle at the heated debate throughout the table. There is a feeling of certainty that those viridian are shifting to each person's voice as their volumes increases. There is the certainty that if he gazed upon her, her lips would be parted just slightly.

"Sasuke-san, I have yet to hear your feelings." Madara's voice carries the interest it seems the others did not know they possessed and it's in this moment when all of those present quiet to look upon him he takes in a deep breath.

He cannot ignore the call of his leader, and it's here that he takes a fleeting moment to look upon the rose-colored nymph. He questions if she has stopped breathing in her stillness awaiting his answer.

"I leave those decisions to you." his voice is rougher than he intends, but it matters not.

No one but his spring wife is shocked by his response. The sharp inhale she makes is one only he hears. There is tension radiating from her being as if she is sickened by his response.

He cares not.

Arguments erupt through the room once more until Hiashi silences it with the raising of his hand. Madara finally speaks his piece in the matter, "We all will consider the peace talk. I can rest at ease that you will send word to Hashirama-san for further details? Until then nothing has changed. Agreed, Hiashi-san?"

"I will send word out." the leading Hyuuga is content with the agreement reached.

The meeting is dismissed only moments later allowing the intensity of the room to washed away at its dismissal. Madara has taken to conversing with Hiashi into another room. He is sure they are ironing out the details of the agreement made. The maids of the Hyuuga home are quick to serve them food. The hospitality that comes from their ally is expected, and one he is accustom too.

Civil discussion, and war stories are shared throughout the meal. It's quaint and it's peaceful. Sasuke notes the quiet that comes from his wife, but he is sure she is listening intently and digesting the conquests discussed.

It's not until later within the night when he is unable to sleep, and his wife is nestled within the guest room they've been allotted that he is brought company by the Hyuuga boy. They fall as easily into place off the battlefield as they do on it. The conversation is not one he minds, and they share hints of humor.

"I have not run across Naruto-san in a while. It makes me wonder where he has gone into hiding if he is not on the frontline."

There is a grunt that escaped his lips, "He barely escaped our last encounter."

His response only makes the Hyuuga's mouth tilt to a smirk, "It was an encounter with him that made me meet your wife shortly after."

Ebony doesn't bother to shift to the boy as he brings her into the conversation, "Ah."

"She's an excellent healer—kind to a fault. I was surprised to see her present next to your side." He does not bother with a reply as the Hyuuga continues forward, "She healed all regardless of affiliation. It was because of that Toka Senju's son had taken interest in her."

This is nothing he hadn't heard already. He cared little to gain specifics of the Senju all seemed to buzz about when his wife was brought forth. There is the smallest of questions of what transpired between them, and then just as the wind blows softly upon them it is gone from his mind. Trivial matters were of no interest to him.

The conversation has disappeared from them leaving only their footsteps to bring noise to their otherwise quiet walk. It's not long till they find themselves back among the main branches home and those that sleep protectively within it's walls.

Sasuke hopes to find the solace sleep very rarely provides for him. He finds himself taking in the sound of his still sleeping wife as a lull that makes his already heavy lids begin their fall. The breathing is soothing, and only continues to provide an odd sense of comfort that he finds he still needs to adjust to. How long that adjustment will be he doesn't know, but he doesn't question it either.

There is a certain level of distance between them. The distance is small but seemingly far. Then there is this odd sense of closeness that he feels she brings with her presence. It's as though she knows no boundary, and knows of no personal space. Their marriage has only occurred in such a short amount of time, but these moments where they lay beside each other have yet to become something he associates as familiar.

These are the moments when he feels her wrapping herself around him with those pale rose-colored strands. The world contains comfort he has no use for, and no desire to participate in, and yet when those pale strands seemly wrap around his being he finds no will to cut them down. The desire comes quickly though as the world loses it's otherwise bright scenery of spring, and those once soft and coaxing strands now constrict him, and strangle his throat in dark hues of deep rich reds. The dark was not something he feared. The terror of those he had seen come and go in his life are what haunt him. The movement of the enemy upon him as he is forced to allow them to tower over his being without any way to protect himself brings forth an earth shattering anguish is another fear that hides within his dreams.

Glowing viridian is all he can see as his eyelids force themselves open, and his heart quakes in his chest. At what point had they found themselves in this position, and at what point had she deemed it acceptable to wake and tower over him? A moment of silence stills between them. He is desperate to find something—anything—within those ocular glowing orbs of hers to establish if there was an attempt to harm him. Traces of disdain are there, but it's missed some of the luster it had held as they ate, and this only serves to make him uncomfortable. It's with a swallow, and finally a moment that wash away the shell shocked look that had decorated his features. He shifts away from her unable to bare the closeness she consistently seems to bring with her.

"What are you doing?" he spats with no remorse.

Ebony eyes follow the flex that comes to her mouth and her throat as she swallows. There is no fear in her, and she seems to have taken a page from his own book when she refuses to answer something she felt was not important.

Kind to a fault.

He is on his feet in only seconds. He makes no attempt at laying his eyes upon her form as he switches between clothes for rest, and clothes for the day. There is venom resting at the base of his throat that seeks to find its way to her. There is a sluggishness to his movements as he makes to exit the room. Exhausted doesn't begin to explain the feeling that weighs upon him as he seeks to distance himself from her. In passing those from his clan, and out the door he is graced with the brightness of the sun and the gentle warmth it gives to his scalp.


Fingers found themselves upon the spines of books that covered the shelves before her. There is this interest eroding her being to understand and learn more of this unusually cold and ruthless man. It begs to question though if what is hidden among this library is one she is willing to take upon with an open heart. The battle of myth versus reality is constant within her mind over her husband—a man haunted nightmares, and yet a nightmare to others.

Sakura can only take in a breath as she lets her fingers slide off the spine to find it's way back to her side. The briefest shakes of her head follow suit as if to banish the thoughts that plague her. Her steps maintain their solid foundation as she walks from the room, and out into the hallway.

Sasuke—she is sure—is gazing upon his garden, and just as she has thought he is there. The look decorating her is one that digests him, and sizes him as though he is the only one who can rid her of the questions of myth versus reality. This man would rather leave her in a constant state of obscurity. He would not remove these questions that plagued her. The bitterness that had found its way into her everyday life since her marriage sits upon her chest once more.

He knows she is there. He knows she is gazing upon him. He knows she has questions.

Yet, this man would never answer a single one of them. He would keep her questioning, keep her guessing, and keep her forever pondering. His eyes would never gaze upon her she is sure—and the frustration that this union would never give her anything is what she assumes birthed this bitterness.

In this realization she can only let out the deep breath that sat within her lungs through her nose as if it will release the bitterness building in her. Throughout these moments she felt the tug-o-war taking place. Making the best out of this union would be ideal. They did not have to love, and they did not have to care for one another—the days in which she daydreamed of marriage and love coexisting had long since been destroyed the minute she had sat before him.

At no point would she ever consider affection from him a possibility—her mind flashes through memories of the discipline he had released upon the man in the market.

Fingers curled upon the wall—she would not romanticize his display in the market as affection. As much as there had been pride at him defending her there was certainty that he did it simply to quiet any negativity that was produced from their union.

She wanted them to be able to cohabit peacefully.

There is the briefest of noises behind her, and it's here she realizes she is blocking the maid from giving him the tea he must have asked for. Dismissing her is easily done, and since her marriage there is less and less hesitation. The tray is set beside him, and yet even still he does not glance her way.

Taking a place beside him she wonders if this will help her to understand him, and who he is.

This man was no ordinary man.
He seemed to play outside of her god's rules.
He was beyond that of any man she had ever met.
He held no care of who's world he shattered—he had made that clear at the meeting.

If she had not seen him bleed or injured she would have questioned if he was man at all—that is what makes her let out the smallest of noises. The flicker of his eyes to her are brief and it is missed with her longing gaze upon the sky before her not painted in the flames or chaos that others surely see.


There is a moment of solace held in their walk along the village's main path. She had fallen in line with him as she made her way back from outside the village to retrieve a restock of herbs. He had a sheen of sweat across his face as he looked back at her. She can only assume that training has gone well for him.

The walk holds no conversation, and the noise of the village is loud, but pleasant. It floods her with memories from back home in her small quaint village of no importance. The smile that decorates her is genuine, and brings with it a swelling of warmth in her chest.

The momentary swelling is halted when the tiniest of hands have found their way to her husband's obsidian hakama with a pull to garner his attention. The confusion and fear is decorating her at this child's actions, and yet no one pays mind to it not even him. Sasuke has halted his own steps to look upon the child—it's possible curiosity and nothing more she's sure when it seems there will be no punishment. This is where the tales and unanswered questions have led her. It's hard to picture this man giving even the smallest of affections to anyone let alone a child.

The small Uchiha child has finally landed their ebony onto her giving forth a giggle before gazing back up as if completely taken with her husband. Wrapping their tiniest of arms around his leg he nuzzles into Sasuke and it's a sight that catches her off guard, and unprepared.

Warmth swells into her chest as she watches him lift a hand to the child's head and give it an indescribably tender pat. No one around them seems phased by this as if it is common, and yet she feels as if this was the most otherworldly thing her ocular windows had ever taken in since her arrival.

The words of her handmaid are what fill her with this experience. These people looked upon this man with such pride, and such love for all that he seemingly gives while he takes from others in the pursuit of final victory.

Delicate fingers press upon her lips as her other hand grasps the basket tighter in the thought that maybe he is once again not the myth or the tale that weaved itself into her upbringing. Judgment was something she continued to press upon him—had she ever really given this man a chance?

Her throats tightens even more—she continued to put these unspoken expectations forth. He had never had a chance to begin with. She is once again the cruel one, and she is once again reevaluating the disdain the stories of him had created and placing it upon herself—his eyes are on her and she's only now realizing it.

Ebony and viridian hold each other, and it's in the smallest of seconds she wishes to rip her gaze away from him. She is left feeling such disgust for herself for being so closed minded, and so unforgiving for things he has not even done to her.

There is the smallest upraise of his brow and she realizes he is trying to understand what it is that decorates her face, and what has caused it—she can only mentally beg her gods to forgive her inability to be better and asks them for strength to do better.

That lackadaisical attempt that was so utterly him comes in the blink of an eye. There is realization that someone else has captured his attention—Hikaku was his name right?

The child is Hikaku's and with his appearance he brings forth news of departure. This is but a reminder of the war that sits just beyond these walls, and outside these homes. Viridian can only look upon the dirt path they walk on.

That's right. This man was not an ordinary man.
He held no care of who's world he shattered—his had already been shattered when his mother and father had left the world of the living.

He had made that so undeniably clear when he had voiced his indifference at the meeting she had sat upon in the argument of peace, and even in this surprising moment of tenderness to a child that was something she needed to remember first and foremost.

Bitterness—it's what she feels when that reminder did not shift the disdain back to him but instead settles upon herself even more.


His next mission is given, and it is only hours later that he leaves her.

This time the disdain is only subtle as she nods her farewells along with her handmaid.

There is the hint of fear laced in her subtle disdain for him within the viridian windows of her being. While he did not know what made her fear him he found no qualms with its presence. Fear would keep their lines from crossing and the distance between them sound. It provided him with relief at seeing her hold such feelings towards him. There had been the briefest of confusion she had given him within the village. It had made him intrigued by her outward display. He could not understand what had decorated her features though. Something had made her displeased within the village. There was what he could only gauge as hatred, but it had not been towards him—he would not dwell on it now and he wouldn't dwell on it later.

His men are amused and chatting behind him as they make their way to the next battle. They are there to provide relief for others, and give them time to regroup before taking another village from the Senju. He has longed for battle since his last mission. Battle spoke to him in wonderful whispers. Battles gave him the ability to bring honor to his fallen mother and father.

Honor was the bare minimum he would bring them in their deaths.

They had deserved so much better, and so much more. They were not bad people. They were not cruel people. His mother was the ever constant warmth of his world. His father was stern and strict but held all the loyalty one could ever ask for.

The Senju deserved it when he slaughtered their men, and warrior children. They deserved it when he slammed his blade into their gut and ripped it out without remorse. They deserved the fire he brought with the inhale of air that filled his lungs. They deserved the brutality of his fingers laced with lightning piercing their armor and dragging their hearts from the cage that protected them.

The one he thought would surely come to the fight still had not, and it only meant that they never had stood a chance against the power that was the Uchiha clan. The Hyuuga was right in what he had said—Naruto was missing and it only meant that this battle would come with ease after a few rounds, and a few pushes.

Relief is what they provide to those who have fought hard and given all they can to their cause. They will give them time to breath, and time to take in healing from the medics that put their lives on the line. The men who had been sent out before him, and the warrior children of both sides litter the ground, and yet this is nothing new for him. He had been a child of war himself. Age meant nothing in this almost decade long fight.

There's an art through the air, and with it a reaction from himself. The current of electricity is loud and chirps with delight along his fingers before finding itself inside that of the enemy. His men are rushing forward to produce their own arts, and the air is filled with the stench of blood and death.

Retreat from the opposing side is all that keeps them from pushing forward hours in. The battle will resume shortly he is sure, and in that time they only need to regroup and stand firm with their newly acquired hold upon this village.

The battle to come though had not been what he had expected.
Little had prepared him for the terrible victory that he would grasp in this battle.
Little had he realized he would come face to face with the very one who had sought to obtain her.

Toka Senju's son was recognizable in moments. There was no way to dispute who stood before him. There was the glare cast upon him, and the sneer solely for him placed upon the Senju's lips. There was a clash and the attempt to render this man under his genjutsu. This man fought with all the rage that he worked to maintain and keep from exploding. This man fought as though he had been robbed of something with unbelievable value. There was understanding in that. He too had been robbed of something with unbelievable value.

There is a moment in which he misjudges an attack, and he feels his arm snap, there is a moment where he has gritted his teeth in keeping the pain from eating him alive, and then there is his blade piercing the Senju's shoulder.

Blood is splattered, and howls of hysteria are what echo through the days that transpire.
He questions the sanity of the man who comes for him at every opportunity.
The Senju does not allow his men to aid him in trying to end his life.
The Senju is an absolute fool—a child throwing a tantrum.

He seeks nothing more than to ram his blade into the beating heart of the one who continues to come for him in personal hatred. He would teach this man—no this child—what happened when you brought personal feelings into the land of chaos and war.

He was a god of war.
An otherworldly being of destruction.

He, Sasuke Uchiha, was truly cruel.


Hurt, battered, and slightly broken he does not allow them to take him to the clinic. He demands his bed, and his comrades equally bloody, and battered comply with his selfish desires. She is there in the doorway. Her face decorated in wide doe-eyes and glowing viridian shock as she takes in the sight of her husband. The swallow that follows is pained. She is upon them immediately shouting orders, and demanding her handmaid gather more servants to assist in retrieving supplies.

She takes care of him first, mending his flesh, cleaning out the dirt, and grime that has settled into his wounds. Hisses falls from her lips as she forces out the growing infection, and sticks her fingers into his worse wounds in an attempt to get inside of him deeper. Endless ebony falter back and forth to the deep rich red of his sharingan has he watches her work on him between moments of blurred vision. He has bit into his tongue at the sharp pain of her mending and healing.

He questions if she is killing him, and he questions why he is allowing her to do so.

His vision settles into a seemingly permanent blurred state and begins to descend into black as he is sure she has just broken his arm unsatisfied with her original adjustment all within the aim of aligning it correctly. The pain to much to bare. He mentally begs for it all to end, and continues to curse her for killing him.

This woman.
This nymph of spring would be his end.

He was sure of this.

It's almost as if only moments have passed since he has faded from the world of the living and yet he awakes with confusion decorating his features sluggishly. He finds the familiar ceiling above his head and groggily turns to find his comrades beside him in similar states of recovery.

The birds outside his garden just beyond his bedroom door are loud and are singing forth what he can only assume is a new day. He feels a hand lay upon his shoulder. Izuna's features flood his no longer blurred vision. He sees the words forming on his mouth. He knows there is sound coming forth and yet the birds are so loud he cannot hear them.

It digests that the Uchiha has requested he not move in his state, and then he feels the steps taken shortly after on the vibrate upon tatami below him. Time seems to stand still only for his vision to become obscured by rose-colored strands as her face comes into view. He takes note of her exhaustion, of the specks of blood he questions if she does not know paint her milky complexion, her rose-colored strands bare the same only in larger doses in their shattered state around her, and then there are her hands coming to lay upon him. Her nails hold dry blood under them as her hands glows and the warmth that he has come to recognize as completely her envelopes him to ease the throbbing pain he had yet to notice until this moment.

He feels himself slip within the warmth as if being submerged into an endless river. It's cool, and satisfying, and likely to drown him. It has dulled the harsh throbbing pain he had only come to notice before her fingers flowed upon him.

It's not until he awakens again that he starts to question the span of time. His the throbbing pain is still there as a mocking reminder of how far he has gone in his battle against the Senju, but it has eased considerably. He wonders if it was her who had caused this ease.

She is there as he struggles to sit up, and urgency to clear his lungs. He stops himself from doing so bringing fingers to not wrapped and bound to his chest. This woman is pressed against the door that leads to the garden he took joy in. The soft sounds of her deep within sleep flow from her chest filling the air as he watches it rise and fall. Her kimono is torn, and caked in blood. The article of clothing is in complete ruin, and it appears she has not attended to herself. He assumes he hasn't been out for long.

He would find out later he was so very wrong.
He would find out later she hadn't slept days into his return.
He would find out later that he would grow irritated with these actions.

He would find out later that this woman who felt so much disdain for him would go to great lengths keeping him alive.

Even for someone she surely felt should die.


The man who had come to visit her before her much celebrated marriage had entered her home in hearing of her husband and comrade's fatal status. The sight of Sasuke bleeding out, and possibly damaged beyond repair haunted her when she closed her eyes.

The fear she had held at seeing him like that had shaken her foundation of him once again. This terrible beyond words, and cruel man was just that a man. It had taken him in such a half dead state to remind her of this, and the regret she held for never realizing it shifted more disdain onto herself. Disdain would be her downfall. Sorrow would fill her heart in knowing that he had never been the cruel one between them. It had all been her. All of that cruelty was hers to bare.

The blood that had long since dried days ago under her fingernails brings back the vivid memory of how far she had gone to make sure he did not leave the world of the living.

Izuna had been there to help command the maids, and bring forth more medics to assist in the treatment of her husband and his team. The gratitude she expresses is overflowing as she gets on her hands and knees uttering it over and over again after the worst of it all has past.

The sight of her is pathetic, and pitiful but she cannot—will not—back down from expressing such deep heavyhearted gratitude.

He waves her off in that strangely formal way of his. Stoic in nature and yet she feels unbelievable warmth when he tells her to now take care of herself. Viridian finally remove themselves from the tatami mats beneath her and find their way to his. The tears that had been threatening to spill finally make their way down her face.

Had he known her true feelings toward her husband she is sure he would not be so kind, and yet she feels completely bare to him when their eyes connect. It pushes her to want to feel more towards her husband, and not be the shameful excuse of a wife she knows she is at the heart of this marriage.

It is in this moment that she becomes determined to give more to her husband. This moment here is where she makes a promise to be a proper wife to him. She would support him properly. She would care for him properly. The complex feelings she holds towards her husband will be rebuilt. The difference in ideals now felt so very petty and insignificant. The difference in their hearts would no longer stand between them. This perception of him would be shattered glued back together with an open mind and open heart.

"You need rest, Sakura-san."

The warmth still exists in his voice as if he has heard her silent promise to give more, and be more. It is here though that she shakes her head not caring how much farther it will lower her in his gaze. Her husband's team still needed her now. Her husband still needed her in these moments. She would stay by his side regardless of the strain it would put on her body and mind.

"I will stay by his side."

It is no longer that a simple moment of time between them before he gives a nod and finds his way out from their home. Sakura sees him out giving one more heavyhearted thank you. He has not tried to stop her from pushing herself beyond her limits, and she finds it makes her heart swell that he has allowed her this privilege to not follow his intended orders.


Whispers filled his home of tales of his wife's healing abilities showing their true power when needed most. It's not until weeks later after they had died down that as he sits with Izuna, and Hikaku over discussions concerning the war, and what he has missed while in recovery that he finally can hear those long dead whispers in a clear voice.

"Your wife could not bare to leave your side as you recovered. She did not sleep or leave your side in days." Izuna's warm voice comes to his ears.

He takes the time to gaze upon the fellow Uchiha with such an uncharacteristic warmth coating his statement. He does not follow through with a comment as Izuna continues forward, "She had forgotten herself completely in your state."

It's here that Hikaku speaks, "I would like to properly thank your wife for my recovery, Sasuke-sama".

Ebony met upon ebony at such a request, and a simple nod was all he could give. It made no difference to him if his comrade thanked his wife for her medical treatment. She was no concern of his.

Agitation is all he could feel in hearing Izuna's claims. Why this woman had fought so hard to keep him alive is beyond him.

That thought would not change even as as he caught her that evening watching the end of day sun grace his home with it's painted hues as it brought with it the peace that came with night. She was seated so calmly as she looked out upon his, no their, garden.

"Sakura."

He questioned if this was the first time he had said her name. He did not find the taste of her name familiar to his tongue. It was so very foreign, and so very light.

Endless ebony met those trademark viridian. He found his steps strong as he came to her side. He did not sit with her choosing to stand beside her. Running his free unbound hand through his long ebony locks he takes in the sight that her eyes adore before her.

"Your. . .friend?" she seemed unsure if she had established who she was referring to correctly, "Thanked me earlier for treating him."

He did not look to her, "Ah."

"Are you in any pain?"

He refused to answer such a thing. She was far beyond what Madara had said. She had transcended what he had assumed of her skill. She was far more than he had realized.

He would be out of his sling soon because of this.

"Did you kill him?" her fingers found their way into her hair fluffing it as if she was discussing the weather.

"No." the answer sent resentment through him.

Sasuke had failed to deliver the final blow to the Senju that had taken fancy to her. When they had met on the battlefield it had been nothing personal. There was recognition and disdain on the Senju's part, but he, he had not made this personal. She did not influence his battles—no she influenced Toka's son's battles.

"I see." she murmured softly as her fingers found the cloth of his pants around his ankle, "Please. . ." her voice was too soft, and too low. He was sure he would have missed it if he had not looked down to her when she had grabbed him, "Be more careful."

"You're annoying."


To understand her husband had filled her with renewed purpose, and it is in those moments when he leaves her to her own devices that she longs for tales of her new family, and of her husband through the hearts and eyes of those closest to him. She seeks to stare upon her husband as that child in the market had.

Taking every chance, and every opportunity she could to learn all that there was to be known about Sasuke Uchiha filled her life with pride. There was a longing to know and understand him better than anyone, and she knew in having that she would also become the proper wife this man needed.

The handmaid has tales of his youth. The child like innocence her husband once held makes her heart want to burst. There was a Sasuke Uchiha she would never meet, and yet just hearing of him in such a time makes her heart swell. These stories carry words of a sibling that she has never heard of before and unspoken questions formulate within her. There is desire to ask of where this sibling is. She doesn't though when she notes the almost pained smile upon the maids lips.

Izuna's visit to see her husband allows her the opportunity to learn of the Sasuke Uchiha on the battlefield. The tales of his raw power and his effortless control of fire, and lightning make her eyes light up with curiosity and make her want to witness such things in person. It makes her long to see what they have seen.

The archives she tracks down in the library give her the chance to read during meetings that do not call for her. It gives her a much better understand of who his people—no, no they are her people as well—are and what it is they fight for. The ideology clash she finds is complex and she realizes that while she disagrees with their ways and thoughts she will protect their hopes beside him.

Knowledge of him, and their clan is not all that she throws herself into.

Sakura Uchiha will do more.

The maids at first are unsure of how to handle her in the kitchen, and her constant requests to teach her their dishes. His absences help her to better herself so that she can serve him food that will make him seek to return home.

Sakura finds herself lessening her disdain for herself as she pushes herself. If her husband can bring protection then she can provide a home for him to return to with love, and warmth. He brings their people victory and success with the cruelest of methods and she will provide them with gentle affection and recovery when they return.

In a world where war makes him death, and chaos she will be the life, and love his people will talk of for years to come.

The wives of his closest of comrades, and those high ranking under him come with even more opportunity to learn she finds. They first find her amusing with expectations that she is halfhearted, and it is only after constant attempts from the spring wife that they learn her determination is not fleeting. The respect she gains from them brings her respect among others in their village. Gratitude is expressed from them after every check up she provides on their husbands. They have grown to trust her in a way she did not think she would be able to obtain when this marriage of hers had started.

Hikaku's wife has become the one she bonds with the most. This woman is what she can only hope to become. The love in her voice, and the unbelievable rawness that flows from her as she speaks of her husband is one Sakura longs to possess when speaking of Sasuke.

The spring wife finds herself unable to stop what comes from her mouth as they sip tea in Hikaku's home, "I find myself envious of your strength and devotion to your husband."

The soft features that paint over the ebony haired woman makes Sakura's heart flutter as she tells of something she had not expected.

"The Uchiha love far deeper than anyone else."


Author Note

Starting out. Holy shit you guys. Like I did not expect so many people to follow this. I honestly figured it would get zero traction. So you can imagine my surprise when I woke up the next day to all these notifications in my e-mail. Thank you so much for reading my work. I honestly originally never planned to never post this. I figured it would just sit in my docs till the end of time. I definitely can't thank you all enough.

That being said I originally was gonna post this in two weeks but after finding out it's Sasuke Week on tumblr, and finding out I'll have company the same week I was planning to post chapter two I decided to just post it now. Chapter three won't be posted for a while though so just expect that.

I'll be sure to address any guest reviews that I feel need responded too after each chapter as well. Two reviews I felt needed addressed was someone asking for me to not make Sasuke a dick to Sakura, and one about no cheating, and death.

Concerning Sasuke being a dick to Sakura. I am a firm believer of character development. I suffer from absolute second-hand embarrassment when an author makes Sasuke do what I like to call "seeing the light", and out of no where just like realizes he's madly in love with her with the littlest of efforts within a short time span. I get time span is hard. I suffer from that struggle, but it doesn't make it any less awkward when it feels like he met her on day one and by day three he sees the light and should of had a V8. Now with all that being said I don't think Sasuke really is a dick at any point to her. Maybe I did make him a dick, maybe I didn't. I guess that's all how you take my work. Hopefully you stick around to see how it turns out.

As for the other one about cheating and death. This is set during a War between the Senju and the Uchiha. Characters will die. I will tell you though that if your fear is I'll kill off Sasuke, or Sakura rest assured I have no intention of that. There will be a lot of characters that do die though. In war, no one, is honestly safe. I've planned out a lot of deaths. If that's something that makes you uncomfortable that's cool and I'm sorry my work isn't for you. As for cheating, I won't say yes or no. I've already written that portion out in future chapters.