RED

Chapter Nine: Snow

It has been too long.

You have waited, seeing them in your sheltered dreams, behind your painted eyelids, willed them to return to you safely.

How many months has it been?

Those months, the ones stacking up in your head right now, have been darkness for the man in the basement.

His dreams are not coloured, as yours are. His eyes do not see daylight, as yours do.

How many months?

Imagine.

Swing.

He aims too high. Fist crunches on air.

His stance changes. Feet dance, wrapped in imaginary bands of cloth, as he aims a neat left hook.

Swing. Another near miss. Dark hair falls into bloody eyes and the world raptures at his empty swipe.

It is too much. He is getting tired. Not so much from the clumsy lunge punches he is piecing together, but from the profound weight of the animosity stabbing continuously at his ears, roaring from each mouth of each observer.

Sasuke watches his opponent shrewdly. Such difference in their statures. He is hunched; tired, like a monkey stretching at branches he cannot reach. The Fourth stands still, back erect and noble, long hair swept back graciously, immaculately. His gaze is calm but eagle, and never leaves the half-beaten form of the Red before him.

The Fourth Hokage speaks to the crowd, roaring at them in sublime language that Sasuke cannot understand. The words fall from his lips in pictures, and Sasuke stares hard at them, readying his fists for another assault while trying to decipher the meaning of the images. The harder he stares, the blurrier they become. His eyes are no good with these words.

He knows that however hard he hits, he will miss. He knows that the Fourth Hokage will always be eons away from him. He is surrounded by loyal, blind allies, whose very lives are already spent in service to his unintelligible oratory.

Sasuke knows that he can never win while the Hokage can still speak.

The boxing ring in the basement is hazy, and the people around it begin to sink into the walls, their chants and darts of hatred losing their sting as the real world settles back into place.

The Fourth is gone.

Sasuke is all alone in the basement, perspiration licking at his brow and bare chest. He pants for breath, limbs quaking in adrenaline tension.

He is all alone. Again.

He scowls at the basement around him.

He can't win either way.

Three days before Christmas, Naruto finally plucked up the guts to stop watching from afar, and knocked, perhaps a little hesitantly, on the blue door of Tengoku Street.

His absence certainly hadn't been caused by any sort of not-wanting. He desperately wanted to see his friend, despite the uneasy guilt festering in his stomach and reminding him that he left Sasuke holed up in Shikamaru's tiny attic for so long. He so very violently wished to speak to Sakura, almost a flimsy memory now, and wanted to beg for her forgiveness and plead for her company. How could he ever not-want to see them? Naruto wasn't the type to not-want. He wanted, and did, and acted. And loved.

He missed her.

He missed them.

And so, the Tuesday before Christmas – the Tuesday he always stole away from Juveniles – Naruto stood still in the cold, dry air, feet decorated with a thin layer of scuffled snow, and waited stiffly for the door to be opened.

He was thankful that Kakashi's face appeared.

'Oh. Hello, Naruto.' The older man smiled at him, the one eye Naruto could see crinkling pleasantly. 'Haven't seen you in a while.'

Naruto scratched at his scalp with a nervous smile. 'Hi, Kakashi.'

Kakashi gave him a dubious look. 'I think you should finally come inside, Naruto.'

The blond stepped out of the cold gladly. His hands were starting to wrinkle with the frostiness of the air. 'Thanks.'

When the door clicked shut, and the afternoon dim of the hall closeted them, Naruto turned quickly to Kakashi.

'Where is he?'

Kakashi's smile lingered. 'Don't worry.' His voice was as soothing and humoured as ever. 'He's safe. In the basement.'

'Can I see him?'

Silver hair nodded up and down slowly.

'Let me show you down.'

Naruto had only been in Kakashi's house once or twice; usually before or after he met up with Sakura. He didn't remember it creaking as much as it did as he walked through the thin hallway and reached the entrance to the basement stairs. He didn't remember it being so cold.

Naruto unstuck his tongue from his teeth. 'Before we go down there, Kakashi…'

He hesitated, and Kakashi paused duly. 'What is it, Naruto?'

There was a quick, uneasy silence where Naruto searched the door in front of him for answers.

'Nothing.'

Kakashi opened the door, and stepped through it. Naruto followed hesitantly, eyes frantically adjusting to the destitute, low light of the basement as his feet found the stone steps. The temperature was much lower down here than it was in the rest of the house – Naruto supposed that was to be expected in a stone, dark room. He followed Kakashi unquestioningly, finding nothing for his hands to hold when he reached for a banister or rail.

They reached the bottom. There was no sign of Sasuke. Naruto frowned.

'Sasuke?' Kakashi said quietly, his voice playing along the stony walls. Naruto squinted at them. Was that writing?

'You have a visitor, Sasuke.'

With that, Kakashi headed back up the stairs, allowing Naruto to step past him onto the cold floor of the basement. He could see no sign of his friend – just an almost empty space, filled with stony silence and a pile of discarded paint buckets.

There was a shuffling from his right, and Naruto watched in honest surprise as a thin, white Sasuke pulled aside the dirty sheets hanging across a small, hidden area below the stairs and met his gaze. His eyes, scarlet even in this dimness, glowed, and widened as he saw his visitor.

'Naruto?'

All the tentativeness and awkwardness Naruto had clenched in his fists fell away as easily as stars disappearing in the sunrise, and he felt a huge grin dawning upon his face. His eyes lit up, and less than seconds later he crushed Sasuke into an inescapable embrace. Sasuke's arms were stiff and wary, but after a moment the embrace was (albeit hesitantly) returned.

'I can't believe you've made it this long,' Naruto muttered to Sasuke's back. He felt more than heard a derisive snort.

'Didn't realise you were so desperate to get rid of me, Idiot.'

Naruto dropped his arms and stepped away from his friend, grin fixed in place. He made a show of scrutinising the pale man.

'You're skinny.'

Sasuke scowled, dark hair falling into his eyes. 'Considering the five course meals I've been eating so consistently of late, I'm surprised you say that.'

The sarcasm relieved Naruto further. Seeing Sasuke as his moody, vaguely snappish self assured him that he was actually doing alright. He gave a sly chuckle and began to unbutton the thick coat he wore.

'And it's just so cosy down here! I love what you've done with the place!'

That earned him another glare; a slightly more sheepish, embarrassed one.

'It's...' Surprisingly, Sasuke faltered, tripping over his words as a blind man stumbles on gravel in the darkness. 'It's... I'm hardly in a position to ask for more, Naruto. What Kakashi and his family have done for me is already far more than I deserve from them...'

'Kakashi's a good man,' Naruto cut in, fiddling with the last fastened button. 'And he has a good family. You're safe here.'

'But they're not.' Sasuke's voice was lead with guilt similar to that which Naruto had been harbouring. 'They're not safe at all. Every day they keep me here brings them a day closer to an arrest warrant. I'm just too much of a coward to do anythi--'

He stopped. He was forced to stop.

By a sandwich. Thrust into his face. Just beneath his nose.

'Stop whining,' Naruto mumbled, pulling out another sandwich from the inner realms of his coat. 'You've got people looking after you. You can thank them when the world fixes itself up again.'

Sasuke stared at Naruto, ignoring the thick sandwich being dangled beneath his nose. He watched him hard, eyes alight. Naruto managed to unwrap his own sandwich with one hand and started eating it casually, seemingly unaffected by anything Sasuke had said.

After a few more moments, Sasuke resigned himself to accepting that Naruto was the same idiot he always was, and took the sandwich in his hands. His stomach chose that precise moment to announce its anticipation of the treat it was about to receive, and Naruto laughed at the light speckle of embarrassment that blushed onto Sasuke's pale cheeks.

'You're a stubborn old bastard, Sasuke, but even you can't resist a good meal. Not in this day and age.'

Sasuke chose not to say anything. He took a seat on the cold floor, causing Naruto to do the same, and took a bite of the sandwich his friend had bought for him.

Listening at the door upstairs, Kakashi smiled to himself.

Sakura enjoyed her walk home from Hatchlings. The air was thin and crisp, like a tempered sheet of ice. If she bit it she was sure it would shatter into little teardrops across her tongue. She took joy in making frosty patterns in the air as she breathed out and made shapes with her lips. The foggy white mist backtracked into her green eyes and made the world hazy for tiny, sweet moments before coiling away into the atmosphere. The snow fizzled beneath her boots as her feet crunched across the clean white floor.

Reaching for the door handle to her home, Sakura paused. Her fingers tingled inside her gloved hands.

Her Father had been mulling of late over the fact that Sasuke saw nothing of the outside world. To his practical mind, the issue was unfortunately non-negotiable; to allow Sasuke to set foot outside the house – to even allow his face to appear at the window, would risk not only their fugitive's safety but the security of the entire family protecting him. But still he worried about the dark-haired man in the basement, essentially trapped in an empty, non-moving world.

Of course, Sakura and her Father continued their studies in the basement. Sasuke didn't seem to mind the smell of fresh paint and Sakura was determined that she continue to excel in her classes. But she doubted that watching her repeat words again and again was particularly stimulating; she only very rarely saw him, peering out at her paintbrush from behind the sheets of his shelter. Sakura couldn't imagine living in the same space for so long without even the briefest glimpse of the outside world. To taste the same, recycled old air and to take in the same, recycled old view.

But nothing could be done.

Sasuke's situation was far too precarious to tamper with, as precious as the tempered air.

Sakura picked up a handful of snow. It took a moment for the cold to sink through her gloves and into her fingertips.

If she couldn't take Sasuke into the outside world, thought Sakura, ever caring, then she would bring a piece of the outside world to Sasuke.

She felt more than a little idiotic. Her hands were stretched out before her stiffly, balancing the precarious, precious white bundle. Her gloved hands ached with the cold.

Suddenly it made extraordinarily little sense to bring a small pile of snow into the basement. The idea that Sasuke would enjoy such a stunt seemed absurd. She hadn't even considered the basic logistics of her actions; the snow would melt quickly once inside the house.

She could almost physically feel his eyes running from her face, down her arms, and to the chilly mound of snow in her outstretched palms. Then they ran back up her again, in what she imagined was confusion.

'Sorry...' she muttered after licking her lips. She kept her eyes on the snow. 'It was a stupid idea. I'll... umm...'

She made to move, flat school shoes prepared to squeak as she spun out of the basement, but she was halted by a curious voice.

'It's snowing outside?'

She froze. She was iced up; colder and stiffer than the white in her fingers.

'Pardon?' The words dissipated in the air, like the rings of frost outside.

Sasuke, skinny and tired-looking with unkempt hair falling wildly into his incriminating eyes, was touching the snow in her hands. Shoved his fingers right into it, like a curious child exploring a newly baked pie, not sure whether it would burn.

'I knew it was cold,' he said quietly, 'but I didn't realise it was snowing.'

'It's not!' she answered quickly. 'I mean, not right now. Last night. The ground is covered.'

She could feel his fingers wriggling in her hands as he examined the frozen bundle. It was odd, like writhing worms pulsing around, occasionally prodding her gloves.

'When I was younger,' he said, eyes on the snow, 'my brother and I liked to make snowmen on the street. We used our parents' crafting tools to give them a really good shape. Cats, dogs, birds... you name it, we could make it.'

At the mention of his brother, Sakura was reminded of a conversation she had yet to have with Sasuke. Her stomach recoiled a little as she pondered very briefly whether Sasuke would be pleased to hear of what seemed to be his brother's escape from danger on a train so many months ago. Still, watching his face, concentration etched into it as snowy memories fell onto his shoulders, Sakura decided now certainly wasn't the right time. This fleeting snippet of a world outside his own, an indication that life was even vaguely familiar outside the walls of the basement, was important and she refused to spoil it.

'I'm sorry you can't see it outside,' she offered, looking down at the snow and wondering how different his perception of it must be to her own.

'Can you describe it to me?'

Sakura frowned. Her hands were starting to go numb.

'Describe it? The world outside?' She could hardly repress an outright laugh, and instead offered a sceptical chuckle. 'I'm a trainee nurse, Sasuke. I hardly have a way with words.'

Sasuke rolled his eyes, much to Sakura's surprise, and gestured with his head toward the scrawled paint upon the nearby wall. 'You're the word girl. You paint word after word, night after night, on that wall. You're practically a dictionary.'

She breathed out through her nose, closing her eyes in a small sigh. 'Medical words don't really count, Sasuke.'

She didn't want to disappoint him by refusing his (very small, she had to admit) request. Sasuke didn't ask for a lot; he didn't even complain about the (in her opinion) pitiful amount of food her family could spare for him. If he asked, she took it to mean that he really wanted it, and so turning down his appeal for a distraction from the gloom of his habitat made her feel excessively mean. But Sakura knew that her descriptions would only disappoint him more; a clumsy portrayal of the snowy scene on Tengoku street would only serve to heighten her inability to help him. Bringing him the snow was the most she could think of to do. Bringing him the entire scene was beyond her limits.

He hardly looked it, but feeling his fingers disappear from the snow in her hands gave her an indication that he was disappointed.

'Thanks for bringing in the snow, anyway,' he said. 'It's nice to know what's going on outside.'

She felt guilty. All he'd wanted was a description of the street, and she hated herself for lacking the confidence to just tell him, as best as she could, what it looked like. Staring up at the tiny, rectangular window high on the southerly wall of the basement, Sakura tried to shake off her empathy, tried to ignore how painfully slender the scope of Sasuke's life had become. She could see nothing but a dry patch of pavement through the glass, where a ledge had sheltered the ground from the falling snow.

'Does the window ever open?' she thought to herself. 'Does he even get any fresh air?'

Becoming more aware of the smell of drying emulsion, Sakura made an inward decision, and strode over to south wall, mashing the snow into a ball in one hand.

'It stinks in here!' she scowled as she marched (does she realise how like her Mother she is with each step?). 'And it's not just the paint, Sasuke!'

She whipped around to look at him, brown skirt swishing at her long socks, expecting to be met with a vicious, defensive gaze. Instead, she was met with widening red eyes and fear.

'Sakura, what are you doing?'

She couldn't stop a snort escaping from her as she stretched her slender arm up toward handle. 'Opening the window, silly. This place needs airing.'

'Wait! You can't – someone mig--'

Standing on her tiptoes, Sakura ignored Sasuke's sudden anxiety and pulled the window open. The glass swung inward stiffly, and Sakura stepped back from the wall, beaming up at the thick, unblemished block of snow now visible through the frame.

Sakura turned back to Sasuke again, green eyes mischievous. 'You say you can make anything out of the snow?'

Sasuke was frozen to the spot, muscles tensed and ready to dive into his shallow cave behind the paint pots. If she watched him carefully, Sakura could still see the rattled rise and fall of his chest beneath his shirt.

'I mean…' She tiptoed again, slipping her hand through the window frame and pulling a handful of snow into the room. 'If I asked for… say… a swan, could you make it?'

Sasuke moved edgily closer to the window, eyeing the tiny gaping hole in his haven suspiciously and trying not to relish the scent of iced water channelling into the room. His skin prickled, and he wasn't sure if it was the fear of somebody seeing in, or the thrill of the cool air floating around by the glass.

'There's just snow out there?'

Sakura nodded with a smile. 'It's thick. Piled higher than this tiny window, easily! Nobody can see in.'

Red eyes still trained on the window and the block of snow beyond it, Sasuke felt the tension seep from his muscles. For so long now he'd smelled the blistering scent of drying emulsion

and captivity. What a small, enormous relief it was to breathe in a fresh smell – the smell of the clouds; the smell of a world without walls. He doubted Sakura really noticed it; after all, she walked in and out, freely, with no fear of what lay beyond each step. But now, the cold air spread fire throughout him, lighting his senses with flickering glimpses of freedom.

Still, he was cautious. As confident as Sakura was in her proclamation that nobody could see him, he remained mildly wary. According to Kakashi (who duly visited him each evening for an hour to update him on the witch-hunt situation), Reds had been dragged from hundreds of hiding places across the village. Barns. Carts. Trees.

Basements.

And so, understandably (he maintained), he was duly vigilant. About a metre away from the window, he stopped. Sakura watched him with a sort of amused smile.

'Don't you believe me?'

That prompted a scowl from him. 'What do you want me to do? Stick my head out of that thing?'

He realised that she didn't understand. She thought he was just scared for himself. Which he was, of course. He'd heard enough rumours to know that the rumours weren't rumours any longer. But he also had to think of Kakashi and his family. If they were to be discovered as harbourers of a Red, the consequences would be appalling. Their lives would be destroyed. He knew he could never cope with that guilt.

There was no turning back from the situation they had wrapped themselves up in. Kakashi had made his choice in opening the door (Sasuke got the feeling that the choice had been made long before his long walk to Tengoku street) and he'd seen he and his wife Anko locking gazes in the kitchen on the night of his arrival. His presence in the basement was an enormous gamble for the Hatake family

See, Sasuke gets it too. Kakashi is a gambler. I've told you this already. Of course, the question you're all dying to ask is:

Is he lucky?

and there was very little he could do to nullify the threat he presented to them in simply bearing his own blood. Staying away from the basement window was probably a good start. But trying to say all of that to Sakura was a task he wasn't up for.

'Come on!' she said playfully, grabbing some of the snow she had pulled in through the window. 'You can't say you can make anything and then refuse to prove it!'

'She's lucky,' he thought, fingers tingling. He could never turn down a challenge. 'She's lucky to be so young.'

'A swan, is it?' he asked. She shrugged.

'Not necessarily. That was just an example. And I'm willing to take into account that you don't have any tools to help you.'

Sasuke smirked at her. She saw how his red eyes lit up at the implication that he wasn't up to the task.

'This is just what he needs,' she thought with a smile. 'A little distraction will do him the world of good right now.'

'I'll need more snow,' he said, sounding confident. 'And you need to move it in from the window.'

Sakura reached up, skirt tickling her thighs as she stretched. 'How much do you need?'

'A decent amount.'

Rolling her eyes at the lack of specifics, Sakura pushed back through the window-hole and into the snow, cupping her gloved hands and pulling the snow towards herself. She yelped as some slipped down the back of her neck and frostily trickled down her back.

Soon enough Sakura had a large pile of snow at her feet, and her tiptoes were starting to hurt from stretching up to the window. 'Is that enough?'

She turned and found Sasuke hunched down amongst the piles of empty paint tins near his bed with an occupied look on his face. He glanced over at the heap of brisk white snow.

'That's fine.'

Sakura frowned. Her hands and wrists throbbed from their escapade into the outside, and some of the snow had hit her bare knees, chilling her skin. She'd been trying to make an effort to help Sasuke, and yet he suddenly seemed uninterested.

'Well... I'll just leave you to it, then!'

She watched his ebony hair, a little wild at the ends, bob up and down between the stacks of paint pots as he nodded to signal that he'd heard her. A little puzzled, Sakura reached upwards once more, pushing the window shut tightly. She left the basement quickly, brushing the scattered pieces of snow from her gloves as she went.

The cafe was fairly quiet. Hinata supposed that it was to be expected, cold weather considered. Hatchlings dress code was unforgiving even in the winter, and although she wore her thickest stockings, coat and scarf, her timid form shivered in submission to the cold. Just when she started to gather a defiant amount of warmth in her lap, the door to the cafe would swing open, allowing the glacial atmosphere to creep in and steal away her heat. She had left her hair down in a tactical move to try and keep her ears warm (she'd let Hanabi borrow her earmuffs) but had to admit it wasn't really working.

She'd ordered a hot cocoa to sip on, and it was beginning to thaw out her throat when Shikamaru entered the cafe, face surrounded by the fur edging of a hood. She smiled shyly as he pulled up a seat.

'Cold weather out there.'

She nodded her agreement, sipping again at her cocoa, revelling silently in the steam curling its way onto the skin on her face. She watched with round eyes as Shikamaru hailed a waiter, ordered a mug of tea and settled into his seat, leaning his elbows against the cream fabric of the table cloth.

His tea arrived shortly, and there was a pleasant silence between the two while they each sipped at their warming drinks. Hinata let the scent of the cocoa tickle her nose, the heat of the cup stretching into her hands graciously. She felt a little nervous, and her drink calmed her; each time the warm liquid glazed her throat she felt herself relax into its warmth.

And then Naruto arrived.

There are three reasons that Hinata may be nervous, and I shall outline them to you:

Hinata is unfortunate enough to be cursed with a near-constant nervous disposition.

Hinata is now (and has been for some time) involved in criminal activity worthy of her arrest (at least!).

Hinata is in love with Uzumaki Naruto.

You can choose which of these causes her to almost choke on her drink when we get back to it.

'Afternoon,' Naruto smiled, cheeks rosy with frost, as he swung through the door of the cafe. His blue eyes seemed icily bright against the context of winter. Hinata swallowed down a choke without drawing too much attention to herself.

'Evening, more like it,' grumbled Shikamaru, nodding at a nearby wall-clock. 'You're late.'

The grin never faded. 'Sorry, sorry. I've had a busy day.'

Naruto glanced about the cafe, taking in the quiet scene and noting that the only other two guests in the cafe were sitting at the other end of the room, seemingly lost in each other's eyes. Swiftly he ordered some tea from the waiter, and then he joined Hinata (also rosy-cheeked) and Shikamaru at the table.

'It's freezing outside! I don't remember it being this cold for an awfully long time.'

Hinata gave a nervous nod while Shikamaru made a 'hmmm' noise in the back of his throat. Naruto took that to mean he agreed. It was difficult not to.

His tea was soon steaming in front of him, and he was quick to set upon it, mildly burning his tongue in the process. He decided he could talk at the same time as drink, and so began, ignoring the hot, fuzzy feeling of his tongue.

'So.' His tone was casual, almost purposely so. 'I got a letter from Uncle Saachi today. He's doing great!'

His words seemed to relieve the others, and Shikamaru smiled quite openly. 'That's good news. What's his new house like?'

Swallowing another mouthful of hot tea, Naruto shrugged. 'As far as I can gather it's not perfect, but it's all he can hope for at the moment. He said his neighbours have been treating him really nicely.'

'Is he eating enough?' Hinata's timid voice ventured. 'I-I always told him he sh-should eat more... when he can.'

'He's probably just as skinny as always!' Naruto chuckled. 'But I bet he's managing just fine. Same miserable old grouch.'

Hinata smiled shyly, eyes still following the happy bends and creases of Naruto's mouth as he spoke. She imagined he didn't realise how lovely his teeth were.

Shikamaru leaned back in his seat. 'Well that's a load off my mind, Naruto. I was really worried about him; it's a tough journey to Sand. But... uhh... what if it doesn't work out for him? Can he come back here if he needs to?'

Naruto frowned contemplatively into his tea. 'That would be difficult,' he replied after a moment's pause. 'His house was sold on, and he'd have nowhere to come back to. For now, the best thing for him to do is stay living in Sand, with those nice neighbours. Hopefully he can stay there until... well, until he wants to come back!'

Time watches their efforts from an empty seat in the cafe. Time laughs at their codes and their exertions.

Time knows that they're just buying him off, for now.

'Any news f-from Uncle Ichigo?' Hinata asked, licking her lips and tasting cocoa. 'The last t-time I heard of him he was m-moving house too.'

Her question seemed to sadden Naruto. He put his teacup down on its saucer and sighed, eyes on the table.

'No. He hasn't written. I don't know where he moved to.'

He is in a barn, sleeping, with the girl from the water, behind a haystack. There are five armed Fang guards outside, about to search the barn.

There is nothing you can do to help them.

Shikamaru took advantage of the turn in conversation, and, checking around himself with thin, dark eyes, spoke quietly.

'Have you heard the rumours? About the new build?'

Hinata looked puzzled. 'W-what?'

Naruto, however, clearly understood what Shikamaru was talking about. His mouth set in a grim line.

'They're not rumours, Shikamaru.'

Hinata swallowed, trying to suppress the uneasy, nearly guilty feeling in her stomach. 'What aren't?'

The opening of the door quieted them for a moment, and all three felons at the table dropped their mouths to their drinks. A young woman stepped into the cafe, ordered something that Hinata couldn't decipher, and then took a seat a way away, taking out a thick book and presumably disappearing into it.

When Naruto spoke again, his voice was crisp and small, like a dying leaf. 'Something is being built on the eastern side of town. Right on the outskirts.'

'Well w-what's so bad abo--'

'I've been over there to check it out a few times,' Naruto continued, 'and although there are Fang guards all around it to make sure you can't get in too close, I've seen what's going on.'

His pause was unintentionally dramatic.

'They've got Reds working on the construction. Hundreds of them.'

Hinata's eyes widened. 'Reds? In this town?'

'I recognise some of them,' Naruto went on, eyes focused on his almost empty cup. 'Some of them were from Scarlet Row and were turned out of their homes months and months ago. But most of them I don't recognise. My guess is that they're not from around here.'

The cold air seemed heavier suddenly, an inescapable mantle. It settled upon them dangerously, bleeding inexplicable guilt into their hearts.

'Do...' Shikamaru seemed hesitant with his words. This was unlike him. This was unfamiliar. '... Do you know what... what they're building?'

Chewing on his lip, Naruto shook his head. He wished he had more information to give them, and yet wished he had less. Wished he'd never seen it. Wished it didn't exist.

'I don't know. But it's not good.'

He's got a point.

Sakura had started her essay at roughly six o clock. She knew this because she had waited for her Father to leave the house first, watching him while he fixed his old wrist watch. The strap had caught in one of his desk drawers at the bookshop and broken, and he had taken it upon himself to sew the thing back together.

'These days,' he'd mumbled from behind the strap he clutched in his mouth, 'I can't really afford to lose track of the time.'

She'd been watching the dull watch face, catching a half-hearted reflection of her Mother cooking some sort of broth for dinner. Sakura didn't need to see her Mother to know she was there; a near constant grumbling about a client who hadn't paid his bill and a pair of long, heavy hands alerted Sakura to each move she made. At quarter to six, dinner was plonked in front of their noses, and by ten to, Father had wolfed his down finished fixing his watch, and was pulling his coat on.

'Where tonight, Kakashi?'

Glancing down at his watch and looking mildly pleased with himself, Kakashi responded without looking at Anko. 'A friend is reading some of his poetry at the ale-house. I'm going along to support him.'

Anko scowled. 'You mean you're getting drunk.'

Before a row erupted (Sakura knew her Father wouldn't get drunk; he had neither the time nor the disposition), Sakura swallowed her last mouthful of stew and escaped up to her bedroom. She had an essay to focus on, and it was easier to ignore her Mother's shrill voice from up there.

Soon she was surrounded by scrawls of textbooks, chunky and torn open by her eager eyes, and her pen was scratching furiously across once blank paper. When she was younger she'd seen a friend stick out her tongue when she concentrated and had copied (she supposed she must have thought it was cute). Now she did it unconsciously, the little pink tip poking out while she wrote and wrote and wrote.

She was a mistress of her own art. Each word, crafted so skilfully, was a work of beauty engraved with every incision. The phrases danced from body part to body part, joined with invisible stitches of hard-earned knowledge and sewn together with passionate green eyes. The lines on the paper were her markers and her writing needle danced in and out deftly, darning together the ideas of the essay.

And then it was half past eleven, and her hand was exhausted, and her eyes couldn't focus on her essay any longer. And then Sakura realised how late it really was, and how cold the tips of her fingers were, and she suddenly found herself standing at the door of the basement, fumbling in the dark, shivering in a nightdress.

'What am I doing?' she thought, registering the hem of her dress brushing her bare thighs. 'He's asleep, like any other normal person!'

Her head and her hands were at odds. Sakura found herself opening the door leading down the basement. Her bare feet winced and recoiled at the flat, bitter floor as she made her way, a shadow masked in white, down the stairs.

Apologies sat on her tongue, at the ready. She'd spent her whole evening working solidly and had forgotten to check on Sasuke's snow-sculpture; now it would have melted into a weary puddle, and the only thing she would see if she stared at it would be her own uncomfortable reflection.

'Sorry, Sasuke,' she thought with a frown, clenching and unclenching her fists to try and protect the skin on her fingers from the cold. 'I'm such an idiot sometimes.'

Sakura reached the last step and padded onto the stone floor. She had expected her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the basement quickly, but she struggled and stepped forward with trepidation, toes tentatively tapping the floor to search blindly for anything she might trip over.

'Wait! Careful!'

Sakura jumped, the voice in the darkness recognisable but still unexpected, and then froze on command. Her right foot, stretched out before her, twitched as something thick and arctic engulfed the tips of her toes. She silently cursed her eyes, which were slowly attempting to focus in the black.

'Sasuke?' she said, her whisper almost echoing in the frosty air. 'Where are you? I thought you'd be asleep!'

'Down here.'

She glanced down and her question was immediately answered; two scarlet eyes pierced the darkness not a metre from her knees. Sakura assumed he was sitting on the floor, and, after a moment of feeling around with her feet, took a seat where she supposed was opposite him.

'What are you doing?' she pressed him, still speaking in whispers. The floor was sterile and cold on her bottom and thighs. She could almost read Sasuke's sarcastic expression in the dark.

'What do you think?'

'Well, I can't see!' Sakura hissed back a little more defensively that she wanted to.

She saw Sasuke's eyes roll in a way she imagined he perceived as subtle, and then he moved. His dusky silhouette stretched away from the ground in front of her and he disappeared from her view momentarily. She heard him bang lightly into a paint can and curse under his breath (Sakura stifled a small giggle), and then a light source appeared, from hidden within his haven. A small oil lamp.

'I don't like to keep this burning after dark, usually,' he said as he walked over. His body was cast in black and white by the lantern's glow; it looked as though ink cascaded and gathered in pools across his form. As he moved the pools shimmered and coalesced in fluidity, coasting about his slender profile, stretching up across his pale skin, like shadows scarpering from the sun. Sakura stared for a moment, prisoner of a man who was not Red, who was not Leaf, who was not legal, but who was simply black and white. Even his eyes flashed bright ash when the lamp swung across his path.

Sasuke sat down, cross-legged, and carefully set the lamp onto the floor. It made a small clinking noise. Sakura squinted in its glare, green eyes modifying themselves hurriedly. Once she could see again, she blinked the reactive tears from her eyes, and finally got a glimpse of what she'd almost set foot in moments earlier.

Four swans, made of snow, arranged themselves on the floor before her.

They were quite small - no larger than her school satchel. The snow, compounded into glittering icicles in the lamplight, flickered more brightly, it seemed to Sakura, than the stars on the more obscure night. Their detail was tantalising; her eyes slid over the graceful curve of each swan's neck, relished in the ruffle of their wing feathers.

'H—How did you...?'

Sakura, tongue frozen by the bleak beauty before her, lost her words. She merely stared at the swans, who watched her curiously; a demon from the earth come to melt their tender, precious forms into puddles. The tools of Sasuke's craft – three differently sized paintbrushes – lay discarded to one side, small flecks of ice decorating the head of each freshly.

'You think these are good?' Sasuke mused, examining each bird with a critical eye. 'You should have seen what my brother could do.'

Sakura shook her head, loose, rose bangs grazing her wide eyes. 'I can't believe you did this! They're... they're amazing!'

She gingerly reached out with cold fingers to touch one; it was solid and quite sturdy under her assessment. Her face, flickering in the birds' reflection, lit into a smile.

'Wow! They're so well made. I wish they were permanent, so I could show Father.'

Sasuke shrugged, slim shoulders dropping heavily. 'I can always make more. Circumstances allowing. Aren't you cold?'

Sakura glanced at him before grasping that he had noted her state of undress. Her nightgown was not indecent but was certainly very thin, and her arms and legs were bare against the cold basement air.

'I'm alright,' she smiled. 'Besides, I can thank the cold. Without it I wouldn't have seen these lovely creatures.'

Looking at the swans closely once more, Sakura almost reluctantly pushed herself to her feet. 'They're beautiful, they really are. I wish I could stare at them all night. But I have Hatchlings tomorrow. I need to get some sleep.'

Sasuke watched her, unmoving, red eyes now alight in the dimming glow. His dark hair cut across his forehead, tripping against his brows.

'Good night, Sasuke,' Sakura offered with a smile, trying to ignore the fierce freeze shooting through her toes. Sasuke nodded to her, eyes returning to his snowy companions, haunting in their stillness. Satisfied, and with her head still reeling at the sight of the sculptures, Sakura turned and darted up the stairs, exiting the basement quietly and shutting the door behind her with a gentle clack.

She leaned back against the door, rubbing her toes against one another frantically in order to warm them up. She wished she'd left her school socks on; they stretched up to her knees and would have kept her feet warmer. Despite the late hour, Sakura felt wide awake, and stared straight ahead into the darkness of the hallway.

'I had no idea he'd be so creative,' she mused, listening to the sound of her skin rubbing against itself in the silence of night. 'He's quite different from how I imagined him to be.'

Her thoughts travelled to the night of Sasuke's arrival; his hunched over, exhausted posture and red eyes searing through the black hair scrambled over his brow. Not much had changed; he still wore the same, loose shirt her Mother had given to him that night, and was still skinny, and his hair was still too long. His skin cast the same porcelain-pale hue, and his eyes still pierced like a shadow illuminated by a lamp. Still, he'd started to move with a more comfortable elegance, and Sakura, thoughts still invaded by the swans, tried to imagine Sasuke in another world, a world with school, and parents, and a real bed, and a brother. She wondered what clothes he liked to wear, and what his favourite food was, and who his friends were.

She wondered how he smelt when he hadn't lived in a room saturated with fresh paint daily.

'This is stupid,' she admonished herself quickly, brushing some hair out of her eyes. 'He's a Red. What's the point in imagining him in another life? It's our job to make sure he survives this life first.'

While she continued to rub her toes, she contemplated the cold, and how bitter and long-lasting it was. It seemed to press about their house with an almost languid intensity, slowly slithering through the stone structure and spreading into the veins. The upper rooms of the house weren't too cold, and Sakura knew that once she was back in bed she could warm her toes with a thick blanket, but she was still surprised at how drastically the temperature fell during the night time.

'I mean, look at those swans!' she thought. 'They were frozen solid when I felt them before, and Sasuke had been working on them from early evening. I bet they'll last until morning. Maybe I really could show Father tomorrow...'

Her thoughts trailed off, like melting snow oozing into a drain. Without a moment's hesitation she swivelled on her frosty feet and flung the door to the basement back open again. As she hurtled down the stairs she called Sasuke's name softly, hoping to stop him tensing up at her hasty arrival the way he had at the opening of the window.

She skidded into the basement, still able to see a little as her eyes were more used to the darkness. The swans gathered together, haughty and inert, watching her with black holes of eyes. She darted past them as carefully as her feet would allow and came to a stop at Sasuke's shelter under the stairs.

Peering in, she could see Sasuke sitting up in his bed, thin covers (all the Hatake family could spare) falling away from his shirt. His eyes were wide and looked startled, as though some emergency was about to tumble down into the cold room.

'What, Sakura?'

She took a breath, flicking the hair from her face with a shake of her head. 'You can't stay down here.'

Sakura could just about see him raising an eyebrow, and the panic didn't leave his eyes. 'What's happened?'

She shook her head more forcefully. 'No, nothing – it's nothing like that. It's just...'

She pointed at the swans. 'It might be alright for a family of swans made out of ice to live down here in these temperatures, but it certainly isn't acceptable for you to! You're a human being! You need warmth!'

Sasuke's scowl was definitely visible. His eyes narrowed, like hot coals burning themselves away.

'You might think I'm a human being, Sakura, but most of the people in this village do not'. His voice was hot and he spoke in little more than a whisper. The sound was abrasive on Sakura's ears. 'Warmth is one of a number of luxuries that I gave up on when the Fourth decided I was a criminal.'

I am watching his eyes, watching Sakura, while she watches him in return. They occasionally push down heavily on her body, roving across her before brazenly facing her own eyes, as bright as his own, he thinks, in the dark. He hates how she is unaware of her own body, her own presence. He hates the way the slender nightgown she insists upon wearing skims the top of her pale knees.

He hates how guilty he feels when his eyes discover her.

He hates the luxuries he has given up. Warmth. Daylight. He wishes he'd never tasted them, because they mock him from a distance. Three meals a day. Regular baths.

Lust.

The one he hates (and misses) the most is blamelessness. That luxury left him first out of the lot, and the way he sees it (red, as always), it will probably never come back – not in this lifetime, at least.

Sasuke has always had a very good grasp of Time.

He didn't expect Sakura to grab his arm with such force, and he instinctively pulled back from her, suppressing a growl.

'Don't be such an idiot!' she half shouted at him. Her eyes were merciless. 'What's the use in us helping you – risking our lives for you – if you die of hypothermia down in this basement?'

'Sakura I'm not going to die of hypo--'

She pulled him out of the bed almost viciously, and placed a hand on his forehead.

'You're freezing.'

Her hand moved to his bare arm. 'You're freezing all over.'

And boldly, to Sasuke's near horror, Sakura slid a hand past the neck of his shirt and onto his chest.

Time is watching with a sadistic grin.

'You've even freezing under your clothes.'

Her voice was softer now, and she could feel the taut rise and fall of Sasuke's cold chest as he breathed. In. Out. In-out. Out-in. In-out.

'You're not made of ice,' she said quietly, eyes focused on the outline of her hand in dark cloth. 'You're not supposed to live in a dark room, with no warmth or light. Even plants can't survive that way.'

He watched her, keeping his body still and rigid.

'Tonight, you can sleep on the couch in the living room,' Sakura continued, removing her hand from his chest and clamping it onto his wrist. 'We can put the fire on, and make sure the curtains are drawn very tight.'

She dragged him away from his bed, and Sasuke allowed her to. Truthfully he was freezing, and his limbs were stiff and sore from weeks of relentless cold. The guilt of asking more and more from this innocent family battled with the cold tiptoeing stealthily along his skin, but the temptation of a warm fire burned it all away into a dull heat that lingered where fingertips had graced his chest.

'We can sort something out,' Sakura said as she pulled him up the stairs leading out of the basement, 'when the morning comes. I'm sure Father will understand.'

Kakashi peered into his living room around the scarcely open door. The embers of a long-burning fire fluttered in the small hearth, and a small mound of jet-black hair poked out from underneath a thin blanket, which rose and fell gently.

His daughter tugged on his arm. 'Father, it's the only way. That basement is freezing during the night. It will kill him!'

Kakashi, towering over his daughter, let out a sigh through his nose, forcing his gaze to linger on the sleeping criminal a single pane of glass away from the outside world.

'It's fine, Sakura,' he said quietly, watching the wood crackle in the fire. 'The fire goes off at five in the morning – I'll leave you that responsibility. We can't risk the smoke being seen as it gets lighter.'

He turned away from the sleeping fugitive, into the eyes of his watchful daughter, and gently closed the door behind him.

'I'd rather gamble on a live Red than a dead one.'

Sherbet Mayhem: Welcome back. Sorry it's been so long. Have been very busy and have only just found the time to write! I have rewarded your patience, however, with an enormous chapter! It's 8000 words long!

It's been a while, so let me know what you think. There's no guarantee when the next update will be but now that I'm back into the groove (and unemployed!) I should have a little more time to write. So hopefully it won't be too long.

See you next chapter! Please review!

Sherby =)