They had only made love once, a week ago. When the marriage was consummated. There was something unpleasant about the sensation, despite the body's climax. Sasuke felt strange and foreign, a newcomer to his own body. At first, he hoped the feeling would pass as he got used to friendly contact again.

Instead, it grew worse.

The hot buzzing against his ear drums matching the tempo of his breath, the way the tattoo on his neck seemed to writhe. Sakura's voice was white noise most of the time. Her little touches were cuts on numb skin. Sometimes the buzzing filled his vision as well, with blooms of color and branches of white cutting across. His joints were on fire.

Meditation helped. He sat on the bedroom floor with his eyes shut.

(A flash of memory: "You will feel some discomfort as your body adjusts, but the payoff will be enormous.")

The gentle clack of ceramics was hammering at his ear drums. "I brought you some tea," someone said. Their footsteps were hammers. He could hear the movement of hair and fabric like stones rubbing against each other.

"Thank you." Even his own voice was warped and metallic.

The front door opened and closed with deep thunder, the latch a clang. Everything hurt. He would have been unable to move regardless, but the simple act of opening his eyes and reaching for the cup of tea caused ripples of pins and needles over the left side of his body. He sat there with his hand touching the rim of the cup. He didn't know for how long.

(If this was mere discomfort, he thought, the other recipients of the tattoo must be dead by now.)

A purple-blue splotch bloomed across the upper half of the doorway, accompanied by the feeling that his ears were about to burst. Someone was now standing directly over him, two orange spots where the eyes were supposed to be.

Like a night terror, the sensation vanished. He was left with spilled tea and his friend, Naruto, standing over him with a grin.

"Did I scare ya?"

"...No." The tattoo seemed a bit sore, but he could not otherwise recall why he had been so uncomfortable. "Why are you here? I thought you were at the wedding."

"Nope! Just got back from my own-" He leaned down and whispered. "-Special training."

"Ah. Forgive my manners." Sasuke stood back up in a single motion. His legs were stiff and creaky.

"No big deal. You okay?"

"Of course. I think I could use some fresh air. Walk?"

Naruto's laugh was a welcome sound. "Let's get some ramen, too. On me."

"But...these oils can help you," Sakura said again. "Y-you're hurt."

Her gold bracelets clinked as she began mixing...something. He smelled the pungency of mustard and pepper.

Sasuke couldn't remember if she had been interested in the healing arts before he left. He couldn't remember much at all beyond the war. And then there was a gap, and then he was in the village again, and then he was married.

He watched her work.

A few minutes ago, before beginning, she had chanted something and painted a purple diamond on her forehead. Then she had laid out her herbs, oils, bowls, and tools out over a black cloth.

At the moment, she was grinding peppercorns with a mortar and pestle. Her wrist twisted like a mechanism. In a silver bowl next to the mortar, there was a dark yellow oil. Rather than add the peppercorn grounds to the bowl, she dripped oil into the mortar, two or three drops at a time.

A momentary pause, to drip the oil from the bowl back into the glass bottle, wipe it with a white scrap of cloth, and then pour a different oil. It was sweet-smelling and pale.

Without even looking, she dashed a handful of taupe powder into the mix. It apparently became too thick to work with, because she emptied the rest of the oil into the mortar.

She packaged it into a shallow ceramic bowl with a lid. It was then settled into a black cloth bag.

She finally glanced up. Her eyes were so...green. Like palm leaves from the coast. "You watched the whole thing?"

He nodded. He gestured at the oils and herbs. "What was that?"

For a moment, she seemed confused, though that quickly gave way to pleasure. "Ah, an elder wanted something to rub into his joints. Mustard oil and peppercorns for circulation and pain relief, rosehip seed oil to soothe the skin, and some clay to thicken it for application and draw out impurities."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. "Interesting."

"Half of it is the materials, half of it is intent," she went on. "For many, the materials' quality can almost make up for a lack of intent, but the product is still not as good."

"Intent?"

"A skilled herbalist only needs to think about the product's intended purpose, as it is finished being mixed. Some need incantations. Some need to say 'this salve is meant to soothe achey joints.'"

"So this is sorcery?"

"You can't really heal or kill with pure intent that I know of." She wrote something down, then began preparing something else. "But there is a kind of magic to it, yes."

"Interesting," he finally said, but he wasn't sure if he meant it.

000

AN: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!