o10. oct.
It is nearing the end of the month when Sasuke's steps lead him back to the city, the wind circling him briskly, sharply, protectively. With his hands deep in the leather of his pockets, he lets out a sigh from chapped lips, and a faint cloud of air forms at his mouth. He glances up, taking notice of the towering hospital as he passes, scanning it whole, and keeps on walking.
Naturally it is a strange feeling—to walk by without even pausing when he usually comes to climb its steps, but he walks a straight path right past it and continues on his way, crossing the street without another look back.
Footfalls quickening, he turns into a wide alley and ventures further until he catches sight of the familiar sign of the flower shop of which he has come to be a regular customer. A bell chimes to welcome him, and a blond at the register shows him a smile. After realizing who her next client is, she brightens.
"Welcome, Uchiha-san!" she calls, waving animatedly. He nods, and once he has come within earshot, the girl grins, cupping a hand to her mouth as she speaks in a teasing whisper. "Here for Sakura again?"
He quirks his mouth to the side, exhaling loudly, but is unable to stem his smile. "Who else?" he says. "Your best thornless roses, please, Yamanaka."
The blond pokes a finger at him before clapping her hands together. "Of course, of course, only the best for Sakura! She's my best friend, too, you know…"
Moments later, Sasuke is ushered out the door by the same Yamanaka Ino, while she coaches him through endless pieces of advice to 'win Sakura's heart—again!'. She's telling him just what to say as she shoves him back onto the street, other customers looming at her back.
"Daffodils, for the third time, Yamanaka-san!"
"I got you, sir! Please, no yelling—!"
With steady footsteps to carry him, Sasuke then makes his way back to the sidewalk, to stand at its edge until rush hour traffic finally thins. A crowd soon comes to gather behind him, waiting for their turn to cross the road, and the second the lights signify the pedestrians' turn, the response is instantaneous. Sasuke is quickly caught amidst numerous people attempting to rush across the street, and the next events happen all too fast:
The crowd rushes forward; a man clutching a large, red bouquet is pushed to the front; there is a screeching sound of tires on asphalt, a yell, pairs of hands attempting to pull each other back, bright lights, a scream.
When the fog clears, there is a man in the street, in his best Sunday suit, with his hands clasped around red. And there is something pooling at his side, which, too, is red, red.
Hours later, there is another sound of wheels against sterile hospital floors, and a different voice shouts a pitched, "Doctor Haruno—!"