Hello my lovelies, another month has been and gone.

I had the dialogue written for this chapter like four weeks ago, but getting round to the descriptions and the action has been the biggest drain. Alas, inspiration struck. This chapter consists of two scenes only, but it is actually the longest I have written so far. Not a lot happens, honestly, but a lot happens in terms of the long run, so I'd pay attention.

I find that, when I read, I sometimes skip passed chunks of description and such because I have the worst attention span, but some of the non-verbal things are very, very crucial. Every word, in fact, as you can guess, is quite important. They're written for a reason. I honestly sound like one of my old English teachers ugh, but you know what I mean.

THis chapter is very dialogue heavy, but it's that way for a reason. I needed the SasuSakuNaru squad to interact some and get to know each other a bit better, as well as to set some more things. Bear with me, this chapter is lowkey awful but it's improtant.

^^ I swear I say that all the time, lollllll.

THis is a complete side note and not that important, but I'm finally seeing a counsellor to sort out some stuff out, and honestly, it's going great. The other day, it felt like my life was finally piecing together, and I've been having so many highs recently.

Also, I was reading through some of my old work and I'm appalled. I have a story on here from like this time last year and it's honestly garbage. Like, literal garbage. How have I improved so vastly in so little time? I'm a grown ass woman, lmao.

(quick side note: as always this is unedited, but, even worse today, the same as last update, my italics didn't copy through so yeah, hope you get the internalised thoughts and sarcasm without them xoxo)

Without further ado, let's get this party started.


Title: Of Crimson Days

World: Medieval-inspired, Sasuke is basically a prince

Full Summary: She isn't of aristocratic blood. She's laboured and she's struggled, sometimes clothed in only a rag, but she is, at least, a survivor- A survivor of poverty, of loss, of this man-eat-man world. She may not sleep in silk tonight, but at least she'll open those wise eyes when morning comes. At least, when it all ends, she'll live to tell the tale of how she survived those Crimson Days.

Central Paring: SasuSaku

Side Pairings: ShikaIno, ShikaTema, AnkoMaru, NaruSaku and tbat

Start Date: October 2017

Update Schedule: lol as if ;)))

Rating: Mature

Warnings: A lot of death (like a lot of death, I have warned you), prostitution, poverty, non-consensual sex (mentioned), sexual descriptions, sexual scenes, swearing, alcohol, graphic violence, neglect (although much of this isn't so heavily portrayed as you think), cheating, prostitution, angst, and tbat

^^ There's also a theme of suicidal thoughts, but it's very different to what you think. There is nothing even slightly related to self-harm or genuine painful suicide, but there is a 'I have nothing left, might as well just rot away now in a grave' sort of thing.


A man stretches, his muscles rippling into hard lines as they tense. Firm, unrealistically present lines remain between thick bulges, stark abdominal muscles pulsating as a V-shape glistens with sweat. Deciding against requipping himself with a shirt, the male remains shirtless, inhaling too quickly and rapidly to stop the flush of vermillion from tinting his cheeks, his forehead and his hands. Beads of condensation drip from his hairline. His eyes, dark and calculating, watch the violet wallpaper designs with intricate detail, inspecting it with a palpable scrutiny.

If he notices another man come in— which he in no way couldn't if he tried— he says nothing, keeping the same stoic expression. The silver locks of his hair hold themselves perfectly, even against the aggressive rise and fall of his chest, and sway as much as a stationary building. Despite his panting, the knight is impeccably pacific, impeccably cool-headed. He just stands silently, breathing, allowing his thoughts to compartmentalise themselves as his irises fixate on the walls.

An Uchiha stumbles in his wake, clumsily and loudly barging through the door, shattering every essence of serenity. His movements are awkward, jagged almost, but his eyes birth the most elegant shade of onyx into the world, vibrant and warm and so bearably humane. They contrast greatly to the other's, his aura reminiscent to a stealthy cat, but his eyes belittling and robotic. The other still doesn't move.

"You know," Obito announces, that same chirp stuck in his vibrato. "Staring at a wall is productive to no one and, despite whatever handbook you're reading out of, is not cool,"

At those words, Kakashi's nonchalance melts into a bemused grin, a slight chuckle gliding from his throat. In one effortlessly fluid motion, he's already turned his entire body around to face his companion, the upturn of his lips welcoming the Uchiha more than any verbal greeting. Kakashi nods, still amused. "Handbook?" He asks. "Please, I would love a handbook on how to be cool,"

"Yeah?" The other prompts with a nod, his expression mocking and sour. "Because you definitely need one. You're the lamest cliché I have ever had the misfortune of meeting,"

The silver knight pouts, but there's still a smile slipping through. "No sarcasm today, Obi? You know I cannot take these genuine insults,"

"The insults I give you are only ever genuine, sorry," He mock shrugs. "Hard to compliment a rock,"

The captain's lips stretch upwards in an instant. Kakashi steps forward, laughing, gaze filtering to the floor for a second as he does so. When he's only an inch away from the other, his intense sky-grey eyes lock in on the arch of a single dark eyebrow, noticing a single bead of sweat, piercingly analysing the shorter male in one fast once-over. "You have been running," He observes aloud, his expression hardening a little.

Darker eyes glance down at his bare chest for a single second. "And you've been doing a lot more than just running, I can see," Obito argues in his usual defensive manner. "What's your point?"

With a considerate tilt to the man's head, Kakashi bites his lip in surrender, understandingly, but he's eager to revert to his renowned characteristics— the humour of those two metallic hues drain in a sole heartbeat, the upturn taking a down as his lips straighten, his shoulders broadening and his height towering in the mere time span of the inhalation of oxygen. As if shedding the bleeding, laughing, crying, fighting— mortal side of himself, his eyes scan like a machine. His eyes scan as a machine. His eyes are a machine.

The air shifts, thickening, their usual light-hearted banter dissipating in the blink of an eye. Kakashi knows something, the black-haired male immediately concludes, that omniscient sparkle tauntingly present under the captain's eyelashes. The way those argent pigments scan up and down, back and forward in such a hasty, searching manner suggests that he suspects Obito might know, too.

Monotonously, following the his own perfected intuition, the male affirms to Obito that "You only run when you are upset," as he crosses arms over the hard pectorals of his torso. His sight obsesses over each abnormal quiver that his companion emits, and he is a hawk when it comes to obsession. Every slight tremble in the Uchiha's fingers, he views as clearly as an earthquake. Nothing escapes his notice, and the other man is furiously aware of it.

The other man sighs, crossing his own arms, flickering his stare at anything but the intrusive leader. Hard lines form across his forehead, between his eyebrows and at his eyes, as those cutting dimples smooth out, his eyes darken under the heavy shadow of his brow bone, and his jaw clenches in frustration. Breathing unevenly, Obito brings his annoyance to focus on the man in front of him, his eyes following expectantly.

"I—" His voice falters, his eyelids closing for a few seconds as he rebuilds himself. "I learnt who killed my cousin," He says definitively, emotionlessly, before his own hands are gripping at his facial skin, his lips hissing out in anger. He buries his nose into his palms, groaning out a harsh breath that he feels at his wrists, before pulling apart from his enclosure, staring at Kakashi with broadened shoulders and widened eyes. The Uchiha hates admitting it, fearing that it'll become truer with every word, but he does it anyway.

When the captain doesn't say anything, doesn't even blink with registration, the man presses on. "My cousin as in King Itachi, of course," He begins to ramble, rapidly. "Not Prince Sasuke, or my other cousins who are most likely dead, too. Not Shisui, apparently, for he has taken a— a leave of absence, if you will, from— from, well, moral decency, I guess. King Itachi was killed by Shisui. My cousin killed my cousin. My cousin was killed by my cousin— am I articulating? Because my tongue feels numb— uh, as does everything else, apparently," The movement of his lips are erratic, clumsy, completely unrehearsed and completely unfiltered, but the other knight still remains unfazed and passive. "And you, as always, are working out, defining your already impossibly defined abs, and not even contributing to the fact that my fucking cousin killed my other fucking cousin— who, funnily enough, is our fucking king," His eyes slam shut in agitation. "Was our king, I mean,"

Lips part to speak but they close just as quickly. Kakashi is unsure of what to respond, for the first time in a while, his eyes searching for something— anything to comment on.

"You are panicking," He tries, despite how blatant and generic of a phrase it is.

"Oh, really?" Obito laughs hysterically, with clear ingenuine. His face is contorted in disbelief, not accepting of the stupidity of his captain's statement. "What gave me away?" His syllables are cutting, angry.

A smile slips onto the silver knight's face, as if finally discovering a common ground. "Your erratic breaths, for one, and your inarticulate, rapid word-vomit, as well as the slight trembling of your hands. Your shoulders are shaking profusely, your voice is higher pitch than—"

"How are you so brilliant yet also such a complete and utter moron at the exact same time?" Obito groans, eyebrows furrowed and fingers squeezing between his temples. "That was obviously a rhetorical question,"

Kakashi's smile dissipates. "Oh, well, what is the point in asking questions if you do not require an answer?" He wonders aloud with gesticulations, his hands trying to wrap his head around his own words.

Sometimes— most of the time, in fact— the knight is literal and— well, knightly to a fault, Obito finds. He is skilled and talented and intuitive and many other flattering adjectives, excelling in all things physique and mind, stamina and wit, speed and agility, but, on occasion, he lacks the Uchiha's ability to smile freely and engage with another person. On many occasions, he is charismatic and charming without fail, but when concerning irony and humour and sarcasm, the Hatake is perplexed by the need of double-meanings. Of course, he isn't unfunny, the other man concedes, but he's almost too hardened and cold to laugh like a man who really means it.

"You know, that would be to have this lovely conversation right here, obviously, which in now way wastes time at all, clearly," The Uchiha leaves his sentence in the air for a second, allowing his words to resonate, before deciding against making the same mistake again. "And, prefacing that, before you start to— do whatever it is that you do— that was one hundred percent sarcastic,"

Kakashi chuckles out a sigh, a small upturn of his lips appearing as he regards Obito with intrigue. "Ah, yes, sarcasm— what a truly particular thing, hm?"

"Not really," The other deadpans, throwing himself into the nearest chair. His hair flattens out as he lands, coming to rest over his forehead, but he's quick to brush his fingers through it, flicking it back up in a single movement. "But we don't have time to be discussing the particularity of verbal techniques, Kakashi, we're at war. You of all people should be taking bigger action than— than whatever you're doing. Working out like always, standing around, waiting for the world to pass by you? You're the captain of the Crimson Guard, and you should be doing better,"

With a deep exhale, the captain falls into the only remaining chair, right beside Obito. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering to the single, tiny bookcase of the cabin, skimming over the four golden titles on the four purple book spines. Then, they jump to the windows, bare and without any curtains, and then to the single table in the corner of the room, and then to the vast floor, decorated only with sunlight seeping through the glass. It's of a similar interior design to the other cabins they've been venturing through, not willing to chance any public inns, but even more plain, with no more furniture for his gaze to rest on other than the two wooden chairs the pair are seated on. The climate is a little warmer, at least, their location being more southern than when they first started cabin-hopping.

"We cannot keep having the same conversation, Obito, it is growing tiring," He says after a moment, but his eyes have returned to the bookcase. They read 'The Kingdom of Thievery' with fascination, the book itself being a few shades lighter than the other three— the golden writing is whitewashed, too, it's spine withering and, if he were to open the book, the knight suspects that the pages would be very brown.

"Then don't give me reason to keep bringing it up, Captain," Obito says simply, but the words are hostile, like spitting oil on a pan. When he calls his leader with a respectful title, it holds no respect. Instead, the charcoal hues beneath his lashes contain within them a daring, challenging gleam, demanding the knight to stand up from his seat and purify Mangekyou of all its anarchy.

But the Hatake remains very stationary, his irises still fixated on that one book, his posture perfect as he sits. As if ignoring the entire topic of conversation, he asks with a bemused facial expression: "Do you remember, as a child, reading 'The Kingdom of Thievery'?"

Obito's face contorts once again, again reclaiming disbelief and annoyance. "Wha—"

"My father would read it to me, every night before he died," the knight confesses with a pained smile. "About the king who married a woman who, after having what we would call an affair, murdered the king herself. Then, she introduced her real lover to the kingdom, and he then entitled the throne, and she, her daughter and her lover ruled over the kingdom until it's bitter end. A tragic story of deceit and distrust, truly,"

"I don't get—"

"How it is relevant?" the captain supplies, his head finally turning to meet his companion. "I do not believe we have heretics in Mangekyou, or at least not ones who have plotted an uprising,"

"Then what do you believe?" Obito prompts, believing truly that the man before him can turn a child's fairytale into realism.

"I believe that we have an insider, a person who staged the uprising from within castle walls," he replies, his dark eyes finally meeting Obito's own directly. He stands, grabbing his dark shirt off from the arm of his own chair as he does so. "I believe we have ourselves a queen, a queen who harbours a Byakuugan lover,"

"You think someone of Mangekyian royalty allowed the Hyuuga to intrude?"

"Yes," he replies, shrugging on his shirt. "And I do not mean Shisui," Kakashi inhales, his eyelids shutting and reopening in a calculated breath. "I think we should stop looking for Prince Sasuke, and instead should start running for our own lives…"

He stares at Obito expectantly, now wearing a fully buttoned, black shirt. The Uchiha says nothing.

~ x Of Crimson Days x ~

Howling wind.

Vicious air.

Bruising ice.

Sakura awakens to a blizzard, she realises instantly.

Sakura, comfortable in her sleeping bag, awakens to the howling of a blizzard from the confines of her cave. Her eyes, resting peacefully just moments before, jolt open and her torso jumps upright in a second. From outside of the mouth of the cave, rime has built up at its entrance, snow is spitting and hissing just outside, the cave walls echoing the violent whistles of the air. As if her dream-like haze had momentarily numbed her senses, the frost hits her skin in a sudden, biting gust of air. Without warning, her bones are shivering uncontrollably beneath her pallid skin, goosebumps apparent all over her body.

She forgets she has company until a loud, soul-shattering groan has her head snapping to the side so quickly, it feels like she just gave herself whiplash. Forest eyes meet cerulean in an instant, but she immediately notices the greenish-white gunk that has formed in the corners of his eyes, the sangria beneath his bottom lashes that is deep and heavy, and the reddened hue of his sclera. Blond hair is disheveled and messy, its spikes each flattened and stretched out into different directions, looking almost comical despite the situation. A layer of dried drool has formed around his mouth, but he's quick to wipe it from his face.

He pulls himself up, to come and sit beside her, no doubt, yet also so he can inspect the weather at a closer range. With a yawn, he stretches out his back, his shoulders and the muscles of his upper arms, standing up as soon as he deems fit. In a second, he's across from to her, brushing his fingers through his hair and straightening out the fabric of his clothes. He rubs his eyes a few times, moaning at the dreariness of the climate repeatedly as he does so, before he's suddenly looking as attractive and well-put as always; his blue eyes are impossibly blue, his blond hair impossibly smooth, his grin impossibly wide. It almost takes her by surprise, even with her adjustment to his sanguine lifestyle.

"I would love to brush my teeth," He announces after a while, light-heartedly with a devilish grin, his voice thick with a morning rasp that she can not deny is far more masculine than she'd anticipate it to be. "Though it doesn't seem like we'll be able to get water any time soon. Any estimate on how long this storm will last?"

Her eyes shift to the mouth of the cave once again, observing the severity of the outside blizzard. "It could be days," she says honestly, remembering lesser storms that had lasted over a week, as well as worse ones that had lasted weeks.

"Ah, I suppose it could," he grins, ever the optimist. "I'm just glad we didn't get caught in it travelling here. A cave was a good idea, Hanako, it's easy to tell this isn't the first time you've done this,"

He'd be right, although the last time she made this journey, she took a path straight through villages and towns— all of which were close in attribute to the Mist, so she decided on the longer journey this time round. It's a safer call in terms of other humans, but now she suspects the weather can be just as dangerous. Either way, it's all just further proof that Naruto and Sasuke do not belong in her kind of world. They have to return to Mangekyou as soon as possible.

"When it stops, you must—" She begins after a moment of deep thought, her eyes wandering over the Namikaze's body.

"I know what you're going to say," the said male interrupts, shaking his head. With a sigh, he rubs his eyes with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. "And my answer to it is that you can't let us go back to Mangekyou,"

The woman hisses. "And why not?" She asks, her voice raising in volume without her even noticing it.

He scoffs immediately, eyebrows knitting together in disbelief as he pushes out his chest, pushing his back off of the cave wall he's been leaning against. There's an exasperated look about his eyes that she can't quite name, can't quite pinpoint whether it's the colour or the shape or the deep-set wrinkles around them. Something, however indistinguishable, screams to her that his pretty smiles are really only half of his story, despite everything she's been led to believe so far. He seems almost afraid of his hometown, of the kingdom he was born and raised in, and that fear is something she wouldn't expect from a clean-cut knight of a clean-cut palace.

"Because we'll die," He states back simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. There's a power, a bite, behind his words, but he never once crosses the line between that bite and real, aggressive violence. "We'll be tortured, killed, beheaded, slaughtered, shredded into pieces, eaten alive — all of the above, in fact, at the same time!"

His hands flail around in the air to follow and emphasise each syllable he utters. There's a humour even in the morbidity of his words, she thinks, that animated, vibrant character of his so refreshingly hilarious. Around him, she has to actively resist the urge to smile, feeling drawn to something so comical and humane about him— even though she certainly has no idea what it exactly is. Her heart shudders when she sees her father's face behind her blink, that cheesy, open grin so reminiscent of the man breathing right before her, right now.

"Right, I'm sure that's exactly the case," She deadpans with a slight roll to her irises, still not willing to waver. "But you cannot stay with me. Sejimura doesn't accept strangers, let alone Mangekyians on the run, and I doubt many other places do either. Just go home, I'm sure it's far safer than you anticipate,"

She's sure it is. Genuinely, even in its mutinous dynamic, she doubts it could hold a candle to the darkest parts of the North— of the Mist, of any town or village in the northern hemisphere. The North holds people just as icy as its land, hardened and bitter and cruel, people who contain no mercy nor any compassion; the North is dark, and it's darkest parts are a light-defying, inescapable abyss. Even she, a member of its sick, heartless family, is at knife's edge constantly.

Thinking of dark, Sakura has to combat the desire to put Sasuke at 'knife's edge'. His rasp, however, is truly pure silk. "We will die," he affirms in that low vibrato, consequencing their gazes to flicker into his direction. He's just sitting up, she realises, pulling his torso to meet a right angle.

Even in the midst of the North, even after death and anarchy and sleepless nights, even in a raging blizzard with raging winds and raging cold, he looks as indifferent and groomed as always. His hair isn't frayed, his eyes aren't anything but that captivating onyx, his skin is enviously smooth and monotoned; he looks just as he did yesterday and the day before, all hard lines and apathetic. In fact, he looks even more careless today, his eyes truly submitting nothing. So much for the window of the soul, Sakura grudging remarks to herself.

"We will!" Naruto agrees with his best friend enthusiastically, his voice bellowing too loud for Sakura at this time in the morning. "Killed on sight, without an ounce of consideration for our bodies. They'll probably fling us off into the moat as soon as they see us,"

The Haruno scoffs, pinching at her temples. "Well, then I hope you can swim,"

At her uncaring words, the knight gasps in a manner that she honestly thinks belongs in a novel. "Did I forget to mention the part where I said they fling our dead, lifeless bodies into this awful, infected, disgusting moat?" He seems outraged, like the noble lady in one of the stories she's read, one who is so appalled by the idea of eating with only one type of spoon. It almost brings her to laugh. "You can't swim when you're dead!" He exclaims it like he's just unveiled the cure of the plague.

"You won't be doing any swimming where I'm going then, either," Her tone hasn't changed once in this entire conversation, still mocking in a way, still unwilling to waver, but it takes on a more genuine warmth. "Look, I'm not saying this to clear myself of you, or as some sick joke, I'm saying this out of concern for your lives. If you stay here, you'll die. If that's bound to happen wherever you go, then wouldn't you want to be put to rest in your own home?"

Sasuke crosses his arms over his chest, his black shirt twisting uncomfortably around his (lack of) biceps— he clearly has never had any rigorous training in his entire life, his arms somewhat frail. "Do you not care that we will die?" He asks, with that same indifference that the woman has come to despise so vehemently.

"I can't help you anymore," She reiterates in response, angrier this time, a true fury brewing just beneath her tongue. She hates repeating herself. "I've done as much as I can, I'm sorry, but you have to leave as soon as the storm has stopped. It's indisputable, nonnegotiable,"

At her words, it's Sasuke's turn to feel a rage simmering in his veins. Soon, he knows that it'll begin to boil, completely evaporating all sense of his logic as he grows consumed by a blind fury— he's always been awful at controlling his anger, but recently, with this stubborn girl around, it's been unbearably difficult. Everything she says is straight out of some socialist parade speaker's mouth in Mangekyou, so defensive and personally attacked by everything and anything. He hates the commonwealth who preach about being the commonwealth, and she exuberates that exact characteristic in her very breath.

"So, you honestly don't care what happens to us?" The vulnerability in the knight's tone makes her feel like she's just kicked a puppy. "We could go back to Mangekyou, be killed and you wouldn't even look back? Is that what you're saying?"

That is not what she's saying! She wants to scream repeatedly, over and over again, at the top of her lungs, so frustrated by his inability to digest her words. Instead, she remains composed and attempts to conjure up something more bite-sized for him, something that he'll be able to gobble up like a fine soup. "What I'm saying is that, honestly, we're strangers, and I can't be held accountable for your life when I can hardly look after my own," She tries, although by the unimpressed look on both of their faces, she doesn't think it's being very easily 'gobbled up' at all. "You have to learn how to survive if you want to live, and with me is the last place that you'll learn anything,"

When Sasuke scoffs and the blond glances up at him with incredulous lines between his eyebrows, obviously at what she's saying, the woman realises that her words are definitely not like a fine soup. Her words are like stale bread— indigestible, unwanted, kept far away from the Mangekian knighthood and whatever blue-blooded family Sasuke clearly derives from. She wants to facepalm, or maybe even jump straight out of the cave and down the steep hill they've climbed half-way up.

"Then where do we go, Hanako?" Naruto asks, daring to break down the words like she's some child.

"Home!" She summarises, for what seems like the millionth time, her yell matching one of his earlier ones. "To where you live and where you've been raised. The Uchihas are alive, and they were the kings of Mangekyou. No Hyuuga is going to look twice at two, unsuspecting civilians,"

Not comprehending at all why, the woman feels the air thicken in the cavernous room, the freezing temperatures suddenly not so cold anymore. Both men are visibly affected by what she's just said, and she almost triumphantly declares 'fine soup!' loudly to herself, but the 'f' dies in her head almost instantly when she notices the intensity of Sasuke's stare. He looks bloodthirsty, honestly, his face stricken with unexplainable fury, his irises appearing a murderous crimson as they peak out from beneath his eyelashes like a flare— if she didn't know any better, she'd almost say that they were glowing.

"Wait," He instructs like a king, she thinks, his voice demanding and his gaze so terrifyingly belittling. "The— the Hyuuga were behind the attack?" He spits out the name like it's a disease.

Meanwhile, Naruto is panicking. He knows that his best friend is weak to the mention of his family, so easily triggered by even the first syllable of Itachi's name, and he's first-hand witnessed the extent of how far Sasuke can go when infuriated and— well, his best friend is certainly infuriated, alright. Although the monarch's physique isn't the most threatening, nor is his fighting ability, stamina or speed when concerning physicality, he can be dangerously stupid when pushed far enough. His tongue can fire insults made of bullets and drop nuclear truth bombs as easily as it can simply whisper, and Naruto fears one particularly confidential 'truth bomb'.

Considering the fact that the Uchiha is now the heir to the Mangekyian throne, since Itachi's already claimed it, it would be catastrophic if anyone— even Hanako— were to discover it. He feels beyond stupid and beyond idiotic and beyond asinine to even reveal the heir's first name, wanting to hit himself so painfully that the urge completely shrouds him. More than anything, at the moment, he is petrified that his best friend may expose everything to this woman.

With a wince, he attempts to stop him. "Sasuke, don't—"

"Of course, who else would it have been?" But he's clearly waited a second too long, for Hanako is already adding fuel to the Uchiha's very dangerous, very life-threatening fire. "They have the motive, the weapon and pretty much everything else that incriminates them. And, last I heard, Hiashi Hyuuga had the queen locked up in some tower,"

Oh no. Forget fuel, she's pretty much giving him an entire forest to set ablaze. Naruto wants to combust into a pool of tears, however contradictory it sounds in his head.

"He what—!" Sasuke seethes, rage manifesting as a thick, pungent aura right around him. The Namikaze closes his eyes in anticipation, waiting for the bomb to explode, before something unexpected happens— his best friend regains composure. With one simple exhale, his flame diminishes, his eyes blacken into a nochlance, his voice no longer toxic. "I mean, are you sure?" He asks, as if common sense has finally dawned on him. Naruto resists the urge to sing.

"You're more patriotic than I first originally pegged you to be, you know that?" The woman laughs, surprisingly, her eyes suddenly staring at Sasuke in a way that neither of the men have seen her look at something before. She regards him with fascination, complete infatuation and intrigue, as if the dark-haired male has suddenly morphed into something so much more than— than whatever she's been interpreting him as. "And yes, it's a known fact,"

Trying so hard to bite his tongue, but inevitably failing, Naruto is the first to respond to her alleged fact. "It isn't a known anything, it's an exaggerated, blown-out-of-proportion speculation. It was just heretics who attacked the castle, everyone knows that,"

A mirage of colours glisten in front of Sakura Haruno, her eyes seeing so much more. It's as if everything falls into place— these two men, these two Mangekyian strangers, hide inside so many secrets that they don't even know about. She thinks back to the real reason she went to Mangekyou, the reason that was not getting medicine or herbs for her mother, but was in fact the reason Orochimaru called for her those few years ago. She thinks about how it all interlinks, all melds into one truth that cuts her tongue from her mouth and gauges out her eyeballs from her sockets. In the end, it all comes down to one, single ancient sin that brands 'DEMON' into her skin, into everyone's skin. She wonders how much they really know, how much they'd despise her if they really knew, but she stops herself.

"Heretics?" She asks, almost playing along, as if she doesn't know of the coverup that was used to hide the foul scent of red-handed anarchy. Anarchy that was never actually anarchy, per say, but just plain greed.

"The civilians who became corrupted by the wrong ideologies," She thinks it's odd how invested and vocal the quieter one has grown, just at the right choice of topic. He's almost suspiciously passionate about it, as if there's really a lot more to him than being nationalist. "A whole band of attention-seeking 'revolutionists'—as they title themselves, but there is nothing revolutionary about murder,"

He's not wrong, she supposes, because there really is nothing 'revolutionary' about murder, but she thinks that, in this world, it seems like there can be no revolution without it. Swords and— and taking over a castle, killing its inhabitants and causing it's knights and princes to flee, for instance, is far louder than preaching about how the world needs to alter and adjust, transform and transcend. Perhaps in another, in a better world, violence wouldn't have to be the go-to whenever a problem occurred.

"And with what power did they 'attack the castle'?" She pretends like she doesn't understand 'the Power of the People', but no single person knows it better than her. "Their broomsticks? Their pocket watches? Their gossip? It's true, nothing beats the strength of a hundred large, gossiping kitchen wives!" Sakura scoffs with an eye roll, releasing her passion in sarcasm, despite wanting to say the complete opposite. She's not one to keep her mouth shut, but she also can't incriminate herself no matter what happens. "You can't tell me that you honestly believe that pathetic Uchiha propaganda,"

That, that she does mean. The lies the Uchiha spread were beyond pathetic, she thinks, blinding an entire nation of people from the truth— the truth which she's been hiding herself, of course, but the truth that could've just been hidden and not completely rewritten. It's excessive and deceitful and honestly, she's not surprised that the Uchiha Family would blame it on the lower class heretics. She despises those egoistical, conniving blue-bloods. They're the reason that her mother is dead.

"You are a fool if you believe that they hold no power because they are peasants," Sasuke is surprisingly more aware than she first realised, although his beliefs are certainly quite unaware. "Any great enough mass can cause a ripple— however slight, it all amounts to the cause,"

The blond beam of joy, as she's internally titled, regards her with an expression the rosette doesn't like at all. Slanted eyes, pursed lips, narrowed eyebrows— the knight stares at her like he would a convicted criminal. "But how do you know all of this, might I ask? It's been bothering me for while," He says exactly what she doesn't want to hear.

But he says exactly what flashes into Sasuke's mind, who in turn gazes up at the woman expectantly. She has spoken of many things that he assumes she does not have the right to speak of at all, her opinions on the state of Mangekyou sounding only uneducated and rather pretentious to the prince. Her theories and accusations fuelling beneath his skin an anger so violent, he has to coach himself into breathing to remain calm. She does not know anything. Itachi would never lie to him— Itachi, his brother, the one who told him that it was the heretics who ruined his life, would never lie to him. Sasuke would never believe some stranger over his own brother, anyway, especially not this infuriatingly biased, reverse-elitist woman. She does not know anything. His brother would never lie to him.

Over and over again, he repeats the words in his head as if they are stuck on a loop; She does not know anything. His brother would never lie to him. Over and over again, to a point that he almost forgets himself. She does not know anything. His brother would never lie to him. Even when he sees the determined twinkle in her sage gems, he recites that she does not know anything. Even when she brushes a lock that he finds so beautiful behind her ear, he choruses that his brother would never lie to him. This woman is a vindictive, conniving liar, trying to string him along into her unfathomable ideologies. She does not know anything. His brother would never lie to him.

"Don't waste your thoughts on me, I won't ever tell you anything," She says, predictably, before stirring the conversation back to her same stupid, unrelenting point. Why can she not comprehend that they cannot fucking go back? "What I will tell you, though, is that I can organise you both horseback for your journey to Mangekyou— where you can confirm or deny these 'exaggerated speculations', okay? It seems like you're already in deep-seated denial anyway, but it's worth a try,"

He is not in denial. She does not know anything. His brother would never lie to him.

"The heretics attacked the castle, there is no question," He affirms, again, emphasising each word like they are all their own individual, important point.

It makes the Uchiha smirk to watch his friend nod so passionately, as if the words Sasuke are saying are the most obviously correct statements in the world. "Yep, he's right," the blond idiot agrees, sounding less idiotic than usual in the monarch's opinion

"Men and their dumb, blind patriotism," The woman sighs, brushing the coral of her fringe with her fingers before flicking it back out of her face. "What, if big Daddy Uchiha told you that jumping into your 'infected' moat was sanitary, would you believe it? Because, if so, I'll be sure to let him now that before you're thrown into said moat when you return, okay? There we go, problem solved. It's been nice knowing you, south is that way," Slender hands gesture to the mouth of the cave.

At the mention of his father, an ache pangs in his heart, sending a shudder down his Uchiha spine. He briefly wonders how Itachi is managing, before refusing the trail of thought to enter his mind— of course his brother is fine, managing with precision and excellence that he himself can no doubt just envy. Soon, under Itachi's rule, he is sure that he will be able to return. Soon, he will see his mother, be able to hold and embrace her, to feel the strands of her silk hair against his cheek, to hear her gentle melodies as she sings both her and Itachi out of their misery. Together, with her and his brother by his side, they will bury their father accordingly. Soon, everything will feel like nothing but a terrible, awful nightmare. Soon, he will return home.

"You are unbelievable," He says simply, monotonously.

"No, what's unbelievable is that, although you conform so hard to Mangekyian, elitist journalism, you're certain they hold some vendetta against your safety," The woman hisses in return. "Double-standards are stupid,"

As if sensing her annoyance, a particularly violent gust of wind hits the back of the cave, passing aggressively by them and echoing throughout the cavern. It makes her hair flow out into a long, cascading mane, its different lengths wisping against the air. As it howls, her tresses dance in its song, so gentle and elegant that it almost takes the monarch by surprise. Naruto watches, too, entranced by her beauty, regarding the wavy locks that brush against her cheeks in absolute awe, noticing how quick she is to try and keep them out of her face.

Pretending to be completely indifferent to the woman's only good feature, the monarch keeps a plain face. "We were not told by journalists, do not be a fool, Naruto is a—"

He feels the knight's warning as soon as the first noun passes his lips, indenting his skin with the intensity of staring, morning-sky eyes. The blond looks as if he is about the pounce, his back arching forward as his shoulders hunch up closer to his neck, but the words have already lingered in the air for too long for Sasuke to take them back. Even as Naruto's eyes narrow into angered slants, even as his mouth tilts down into a scowl, the prince can do nothing but feel the words die in his own mouth, awkwardly and suspiciously. He does not dare to look at the woman.

Sakura observers the exchange between the two men in a light humour. The blond looks furious in that terrified yet angry way, like an inexperienced mother who has to scold her misbehaving child for the first time, the light from the mouth of the cave highlighting just one half of his face. The other side is lost in the turn of his head as he stares in warning at the other man, who in return grasps to salvage the motions of his lips. For the first time, really, there is not a single trace of indifference or anger, just untainted fear, fresh and foreign and panicking. It's a nice change, she thinks, before feeling as if the spectacle as gone on too long.

"A knight, yes, I know, I was present at his accolade," She confesses casually, watching their mouths drop, Naruto's stern line completely dissipating. "Which, for the reference, makes you just as blind-sighted as the Mangekyian media. No slave of the royal family could comprehend the real truth behind that event,"

But could anyone comprehend the truth that cuts their tongues from their mouths and gauges out their eyeballs from their sockets, branding 'DEMON' into their skins?

Sakura doesn't know why she's humouring these men anymore.

"What 'slave' do you refer to?" The blond asks, sounding uncharacteristically— or, well, she supposes that it's very characteristic in actuality—grounded. His eyes watch her with skepticism, so vigorous to dissect the secrets hidden beneath her skin. "What 'real truth' do you concoct?"

But the knight isn't the only one with a desire to unveil her innermost thoughts. "And, most importantly, how would you know anything?" Sasuke adds, but he's reverted to that stale, passive glare.

At this impromptu interrogation, Sakura suddenly feels way out of her own depth. Wordlessly, but certainly not breathlessly, the woman slides her sleeping bag down her body, slipping her legs out of it in a balletic glide. Without uttering a vowel, she daintily takes it in her grasp, folding its cotton material over her forearm. When she's done, she bites her lip in hesitation, hating the heat of their glares.

"Because I know a lot," She eventually replies, vaguely, a distance seeping into the tone of her vogue. "I will never tell you why or how, or what I exactly know for that instance, but you can know that I just do,"

The woman flinches as a hand slams down on the cavern floor, reverberating through the sepulchral grotto with a prolonged clangour. Hesitant sage eyes flicker to the pale skin of Sasuke's hand, one which has no doubt been made ruddy from the impact of the grey rock. The Uchiha doesn't even acknowledge his pain, and Sakura almost feels inclined to believe he doesn't feel anything.

"That is an inadequate answer," The words are seethed calmly, but like a calm rage rather than any depiction of serenity.

And yet, despite his demanding and brutish growls, the woman cannot find it in her to be— what does he even want her to be? Scared? Intimidated? Impressed? She feels nothing but a bubbling irritation

"It doesn't seem like you've noticed, but I don't live my life trying to— well, satisfy you. I save your lives from the eastern bandits and you repay me with this? Accusations?" She laughs incredulously, pulling herself up onto her knees. "I don't know how you're raised in Mangekyou, but in my country, we show gratitude to our saviours,"

Following by example, it seems, the Uchiha pushes his weight up to stand. "It seems as if I have grown blind— I saw no bandits,"

"We were chased, for one, and your friend had a sword to his throat!" The woman exclaims, finally lifting her body up until it's almost completely upright. The size of the cavern inhibits her from stretching out her spine, the plates of her back remaining arched.

Sasuke's bent equally as much, even with his towering height— his portion of the cave is much taller than hers, but it's as far in as the walls seem to go. Their current place of residence is not one of those endless, bereaving tombs that lie in perpetual darkness.

"Which he would have dealt with, had you not rudely interjected," He informs the stranger.

"Had I not rudely interjected, he'd be severely hurt or worse yet, dead. Flouncing around in Mangekyian armour in the safe castle walls of Mangekyou is different from fighting to survive. For the Mist, they learn how to hold a sword quicker than they learn how to walk," She's just inches away from him now, having taken multiple steps towards him, her form arching into him to exaggerate her point further. "They fight to live, not to defend some king on his safe, secure throne. It's different,"

"Then help us," Naruto, who has been watching the aggressive exchange from his place on the ground has finally taken a stand, both literally and figuratively. "We can't go home, not like this— not when we can't do anything but whimper before bandits,"

"I can't," The woman repeats. "You don't understand, but I just can't,"

"You do not have to train me yourself, just point in the correct direction and we'll never bother you again," His eyes fall to the floor, pleadingly, his voice softening in its desperation. "Please, just don't let us die,"

"You think someone will—" She's about to argue, to drown out his voice with her own, but the words halt in her throat when she turns to face him. He looks so— so terrified. Weakened. Dimmed. His cerulean irises appear grey, she thinks, drained of all their varidian sparkle. The woman rolls her eyes with a tut. "You know what? Fine. I'll take you myself," She concedes, her passion suddenly deflated.

Her words galvanize the man, invigorating that easily smile enough to spread widely across his cheeks. "Than—"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," She reprimands, but she contains no bite. "You're going to have to drop the whole 'I am a devout Mangekyian' act— in fact, you can't even say the word Mangekyou in where we're going,"

Naruto startles, a hurt expression crossing his features. "Why does everywhere seem to loathe Mangekyou?" He says the words as if he's been personally insulted.

Deciding it best to clear up the mess of baggage and cloth and scrap across the floor, Sakura busies herself in tiding her belongings. With a shiver, the woman instantly feels the need to wrap her fur cloak around her petite frame. "Well, if even its inhabitants hate it enough to send it into the depths of anarchy, you can't blame the rest of the world for doing the same," She suggests absent-mindedly, too occupied in her own task. "We should get packing, we're going to have to travel through the storm,"

"No, I suppose we can't blame the world, that's true, but at least these inhabitants you speak of have lived and experienced Mangekyou in its rawest. How is it fair that strangers, who only know of Mangekyou through petty rumours, are allowed to spit on its name?" The man has began gathering his own items, but Sasuke just sits silently in the corner. "They don't even understand Mangekyou,"

"Your nationalism is almost unhealthy, I'll be honest," Sakura quips. "And, Naruto, I think that's exactly it; People fear what they don't understand, you know? And fear breeds fake, construed myths that only accumulate further to that misunderstanding. But, on the other hand, I do believe there is some truth to every rumour, "

"I don't," The blond states simply, pausing to straighten his back out and stare into the stranger's eyes. "You can say anything, to anyone,"

"Yes, that's certainly true, but people are considerate enough to not just concoct false lies," Sakura states, unsure of whether she herself believes in it or not. She wants to believe in it, she knows that much, but the words seem too pretty to be at all realistic. Her hands don't hinder in her vigour in the slightest.

"That is a foolish statement," Sasuke remarks simply from against the cave wall, eyes blaring with forbearance. His face stares blankly at her in a lull, watching her hunched figure place the water bottle into the single leather bag she has, her long tresses dangling down. With a whoosh, she brings her body round to glare at him, still bent-back over herself, revealing the soft skin of her clavicle.

Her gaze flickers with annoyance, that viridescent hue darkening, appearing almost black in the perpetual shadows of the cavern. In fact, her entire face is hidden behind a cloud of darkness, leaving only the golden tones of her hair to shine in the backlight of the sun. No longer coral, the woman's hair shimmers with rose gold iridescence. Sasuke almost forgets the significance of seeing the sun.

Her lips morph into a scowl. "Well, I'm sorry that—"

"No, he's right. Some people like creating difficulties for others, and lying definitely does create difficulty, that's for sure," The blond omits with a heavy-hearted chuckle, slithering down the wall to sit back in his previous position. His things are clumsily thrown together, in an organised mess. "Anyway, we get it: no mention of Mangekyou or knighthood or whatever else we may be hiding. We need to keep it on the down-low,"

"That's right," Sakura nods, facing him now, but she still remains standing. "Keep it on the down-low, and you might see yourself training under my previous master in Sejimura,"

"Sejimura?" The Uchiha prompts, ignoring the way the light hits the woman's eyelashes, forcing them to shine a brilliant rose pink.

"I haven't heard of it, either, what's it like?"

Haruno irises regard them both with exasperation, fine eyebrows rising in question. "It's no different to any other place, really," She tells them with blatant boredom, bringing her body down to their levels, crossing her legs over one another. "It used to be better, and now it's a lesser form of what it once was— or, well, or so I've heard," She crosses her arms, too, eyes drifting to the mouth of the grotto, only just realising that the blizzard has stopped, the sun now consequencing sequins of glistening snow to glimmer a rose gold hue, so very prettily. It brings a light upturn to her lips.

Sasuke scoffs, meanly. "So you do not know either," He says in his usual belittling, cocky manner, and the fact that it's a statement infuriates the woman.

"That's not true, okay? I do know," She insists, upturn completely downturned. "I know a lot about Sejimura, far more than most people,"

There's a distant melancholy beneath her eyelashes, the Uchiha thinks, hidden so perfectly behind superficially attractive colours. Sage eyes, coral eyelashes, viridescent tresses, rosy cheeks, snow skin; the woman is a kaleidoscope of spring, melded into a single person just enough to brush everything under the surface. Then, he changes his mind. Her icy words, her icy glares, her icy scowls, her icy cynicism— she is no spring, just a winter so desperate to warm.

"Right, well then could you possibly be a little less vague?" Naruto asks with a abrasive cut to his octave, feeling even his own patience drain just a little bit. "Like beliefs, customs, traditions… you know, the necessities, the things that'll keep us alive,"

"You want to know the dos and don'ts of Sejimura?" The woman snorts with a shake of her head, that ever so familiar incredulity seeping back in. "This isn't a game, this is your lives,"

"Which is exactly why we need to know," Naruto says. "I know how the world works, I know that we will die without your help,"

The woman exhales roughy, tucking a loosening strand behind her ear. "You don't get a manual telling you what to say and what not to say in the world, Naruto," She instructs them with an emotion neither can quite place. "If that's how you think it works, then—"

"That's not what I meant, and you know that," The blond interjects instantly, blue eyes staring down at her. Oh, how reminiscent of a utopian sky they truly are. "Please, I'm begging you, help us," He pleads, lowly and softly, that occasional gruffness of his overtaking most of his voice.

The woman looks out at the mouth of the cave again, breathing deeply. She watches the sun peek through thin, blackened branches far away, shining over the surface of the snow, in complete antithesis with the earlier storm. Her eyes mark the miles of distance, as well as the depth of each and every hill, observing a possible pathway— it's too wet to simply climb up and down steep hills, over and over again until they find the right one, so they must be strategic in their journey. She must be strategic, at the very least. For a few seconds, she tries to isolate the romantic observations of colour and art, instead focusing on the geographical side of their surroundings. After a beat, however, she's noting how the baby blue skies drift into a light, metallic grey, all so pale that it's not too far from mirroring the blankets of magnolia ice.

"Fine, if you really think that it'll make a difference, then I'll humour you," She eventually says, still staring into the distance. "It's a True Eternal, almost like Mangekyou, but people don't leave or come in— they don't dream of anything out of the confines of its walls, its streets nor the capabilities of its people. No one wants to leave, no one talks of leaving and you won't be breathing a single syllable of leaving, okay? Leaving is like a taboo,"

"So we're going to a prison?" Naruto asks immediately, his brows furrowing together in discontent. He looks so unsure, and the woman is almost tempted to use that uncertainty to convince him to go back to Mangekyou. She doesn't give in to its temptation.

"No, it's a— a True Eternal of Spring," She bites her lip hesitantly, debating if she should be sharing her knowledge after all. One question can sprout into another so easily, she knows, and at the rate they're going, it'll end up in then having ten additional questions per the original one. "They don't want to leave, it's completely unheard of,"

Sasuke blinks, a blank expression crossing his face. "Uh, what is this True Eternal that you speak of?" And, if she didn't know better, Sakura would almost say that he looks sheepish asking. If she could be bothered to answer and isn't trying desperately to summarise the definition in her head, maybe she'd focus more on the bruised pride that flickers just beneath the white of his eyes.

"It's a state of climate, really," Naruto is the one to explain it to him, however. "The weather, like its name, is eternally the same. It never changes, it never fluctuates and it's definite,"

The blank look cross the Uchiha's face doesn't falter. "So like Mangekyou's all-year Summer?" He tries to understand, but eternal climate? That doesn't make sense to him.

"Well, almost," Sakura considers for a second, but her necessity to always be right triumphs. "But your temperatures vacillate, and you also get rain, and you've had a history of some storms, though very distantly in the past, and—"

"You're a weather enthusiast?" Naruto interjects, fascinated by her knowledge.

"Uh— well— no, not really, but I've—" Her mind scrambles for an excuse, anything to conceal the truth of why Sakura Haruno really went into the Mangekyou Kingdom that day. "I once considered moving to Mangekyou, so I had to research its climate to decide whether or not— whether or not I wanted to move to Mangekyou,"

Her words contain an embarrassing lack of conviction, so awkwardly articulated that alarms instant ring in the men's ears.

"You seem accustomed to the cold, why would its climate matter?" The Uchiha asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Well, in fact—" She attempts again, this time with a little more enthusiasm. "You see, I am very accustomed to the cold so I'm not that great at being— well, I'm not accustomed to the heat of Mangekyou— uh, I mean I wasn't before it went up in mutinous flames— is what I'm trying to say," Her face winces at the realisation of how awful she truly is at lying on the spot.

"Tch, that was articulate,"

"Excuse m—" Sakura goes to retort back, but the blond is already sick of the pair's bickering.

"Yeah, okay, so you're northern?" He interjects, but it's kind and intrigued.

The woman is about to respond, as if on instinct, but her thoughts finally recollect themselves, causing her eyes to shut in frustration. "Uh, what do you think that you're trying to do?" They snap open as she asks, as she digs her fingernails into her palms and shakes her head in disbelief. There's a hysterical anger in her lower, deliberately enunciated pitch. "Okay, let's set some ground rules here. You don't ask questions about my past or, in fact, anything to do with me at all, and only when that condition is met, completely and with no loopholes, will I ever consider helping you. Yes?"

Sharing glances, the men fidget in their positions, unsure of how to respond. Eventually, Naruto is the one to speak, though is words are hesitant and carefully planned. "Fine, I guess we don't have a choice," He says truthfully, before changing the subject as quickly as he can. "So, in Sejumira, it's always Spring, we don't mention leaving and— well, is there an and?"

"Well, perhaps you could pronounce its country right," the woman sighs, already mellowing out. "It's Sejimura. Don't, no matter what happens, even if it's the last thing you do— because it would be the last thing you'd do— mention Mangekyou," Her eyes lock onto Naruto's for a few seconds, before flickering to the other man. "Don't insult nor defend it, just remain neutral because you'll expose yourself otherwise, is that clear?"

The pair exchange glances again, and again, it's Naruto to respond. "Crystal," He affirms with a wide grin, ever the sanguine boy of sunshine.

At his agreement, the Haruno smiles a plastic smile, before pulling herself up from her knees and into a standing position. "Great, well, we best be going then, before another blizzard ensues," Her eyes wander around the cave as she squints in thought. "Are you done with your interrogation? Because this is your last chance to ask anything else,"

"Yeah, I'm done," Naruto smiles gently, smacking a hand on his thigh as if to prove a point, but then his cerulean irises flicker to his best friend. "Unless you have any questions, Sasuke?" He prompts, sounding like he's trying to entice something out of the other, in Sakura's opinion.

"Hn, I have none at this present moment," The Uchiha responds simply, almost snidely, before sighing in defeat. "But I do have a request,"

Of course he has a request. Why wouldn't he have a request? He's Hell-bent on ordering people to do things. Sakura resists the insatiable urge to roll her eyes and hiss out a colourful vocabulary of curse words.

She can't hold her tongue. "A request? That's bold considering—"

"You are infuriatingly defensive," The man interjects, standing up to gather his own belongings, which have remained in a perfectly tidy pile since their arrival. "It is simple, just do not call me by my name," He says with a slant to his eyes, daring her to challenge him.

"And why not?" She does indeed challenge.

"I called you Hanako without asking questions," He states simply, smugly, taking a step backwards to straighten out his back where the ceiling is higher up. The woman wants to roll off down the hill, despising that he's trying to best her. She won't be bested, especially not by the likes of him.

"Uh— okay, fine," Sakura upturns her lips mockingly, tilting her head just the tiniest bit as she does so. "Do you have a name preference, then?" She asks as if it's to choose a tunic for him, that hateful tone dancing on her tongue, and not for whatever reason he's blatantly hiding.

"Let's keep it simple, Sasuke," The knight finally decides to speak up, joining the pair in the higher latitude. With an almost regretful sigh, he suggests: "How about we go with Itachi?"

Sakura's head tilts completely, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Why would—"

"What—" Sasuke cannot contain his anger.

"Well, what a minute, it makes sense," He starts pointedly to the Uchiha, as if begging for forgiveness with only his eyes. "He's definitely in Mangekyou, for one, so there'll be no suspicion," his hands gesture in front of him. "Plus, it's easy to remember," His voice is soft, kind, as if the choice of person holds particular sentiment.

This name situation confuses the woman. She isn't an idiot, not by a long shot, but the conclusion is so close that it aggravates her, because she just can't quite pinpoint it exactly. "What suspicion would there be otherwise?" She asks, wondering what these people have in common with the first prince of Mangekyou, Itachi Uchiha. It just doesn't quite add up— are they both knights?

"Hn, Itachi it is," Sasuke states, disregarding the female completely.

"What suspicion—"

"No questions, we agreed," The knight says kindly to Sakura, throwing his bag over his shoulder, having already put on his cloak. "No pasts and no anythings, yeah? You extend us the same courtesy,"

The woman goes to argue, goes to open her mouth and disagree, but her earlier words bite her in the ass. "Fine," She says eventually, frustrated. She hates not knowing things. "Off we go then, to Sejimura," And then, with a sigh, she reminds herself under her breath: "Absolutely no more questions,"

The mouth of the cave is iced over, slippery, and the air is cuttingly freezing, but they venture on anyway.


Author's Note (kind of?):

And breathe. That was such a long chapter ugh. That hurt me to write. I'm the type of gal who likes to be able to read like half a book in one sitting, bit when chapters start becoming like 10k+ words each it just drags and drags and drags.

On the other hand, I wouldn't be able to write less, to be honest, so it's cjill I guess :)

AS always, here are some questions you can answer if you wish:

Thoughts on Sakura's character at the moment?

Thoughts on her interactions with Sasuke? Naruto?

Sasuke's obsession with staring at her? Analysising her?

What's with his hair thing, lmao?

How's it going for our OTP?

What does Sakura feel towards them, do you think?

What is Sakura hiding? Why do you think she was really in Mangekyou?

Thoughts on any characters, really?

Do you feel bad for Sasuke? For Naruto? For Sakura? Why/why not?

Do you think Sakura's right in allowing them to come along? What might be the consequences?

Who's in Sejimura?

How do you feel about Kakashi and Obito? Individually? Together?

Too dialogue heavy? Too description heavy?

Favourite 'scene' so far?

Favourite character so far?

Anything you'd like to see? Any predictions on character appearances or events?

Criticisms? Applauds?

If you feel like it, give me a nice long review ;))

Peace x