x.x.x

Chapter 11
The Pride


There are reds, and there are golds.

They're rich in color, vibrant within her eyes, and all the telling signs of the New Years fast approach. These colors are elegant. They represent happiness and they represent freedom from worldly cares.

They hold promise and they hold a world he has yet to experience.

Her husband would be there to watch how they brought in a new year. He would be there to taste their food. He would be there to join in their customs so different from his own. He would be there to watch her welcome the spring, and bring it within their homes.

Her fingers feel the numb the cold provides as she walks beside her guard. He is all the same smiles and earthly qualities she associates him with even after all the trouble she has caused him. His smile stands forever upon his lips. It's not large, and it's not beaming, but it's quaint and it's understanding.

Her brother-in-law has agreed to speak with her. She had requested this, and yet it does nothing to ease her as she makes her way through the village to meet with him. At first she had thought he would refuse to see her. He had only just agreed the night before.

Practiced lines had filled her head throughout the day. It had distracted her within her practice, and here—now—as she is almost upon him she has lost all of it.

The words she had wanted to say, and the feelings she wished to convey were tucked within the fear that swam through her being. Unequal and unfathomable. Tears would get her nowhere. They did not conquer that which would stand before her. Words would pave the path of where she was to go. They could be what sets the pace—the control.

It was as if all of what she had wished to say desired to hide from the man who had stolen her father from the world of the living.

Crippled and weak.
Would she find where they hid in his presence?

There's no denying the hatred that sits low within her stomach.
She was not here for that.

She had sought something entirely different. No longer would hatred keep her locked within the past. Her father sought for her to move forward. She would not forgive, and she would not forget. She would, however, reach an understanding with this man.

yet, she could not remember what understanding she wished to reach.

She had finally understood a small portion of her husband's pain, and now she sought to understand this man, who had taken her father, and abandoned her husband.
Was such a thing possible?

She was not a god who held unspeakable forgiveness—that's right.
This was never about forgiveness.

Fingers reach upon her nose as she attempts to breath within them and bring warmth back into the chilled digits. The roads connected and turned, and it's as they make their way to the outskirts of this village that she realizes that this relative brought by marriage has sought a place far from others. There's curiosity behind what she will see when she enters—what kind of home does her brother-in-law resides in? The outside is so very ordinary, and so unlike the home he had left. It holds nothing traditional about its structure.

Does it linger with feelings of the home he had once held inside?

He greets them with silence. Only a look, and a nod come from him as he allows them within his home. The home whispers of barely touched items. Dust lingers as if he has barely inhabited it in all his time within the Senju territory.

The air in this home is stiff as if to make it clear this is not a place considered home.

There is such an odd feeling within her stomach at the coldness the home provides. Warmth was always meant to be in the home you lived. Warmth is what beckoned you back. Warmth is what embraced you when you entered. Had this man lost that warmth when he had sided with the Senju?

Rich red and bright white does not cover even a small portion of this home—the fan that symbolizes his family name holds no place upon these walls.
It's outline is nowhere in sight. It does not exist in this space.

Home is where the heart was—perhaps this man held no heart.
She did not come here to feel sorry for his lack of heart.

There was no forgiveness for this man.
She did not come here to forgive him for stealing her father from her with such little care.

There was desire to reach an understanding.
She had come here to reach an understanding with this man who was tied to her through her husband.

This home so unfeeling does nothing to ease her fears. It does nothing to help her find the practiced lines she had recited within her head. It did not help her in finding strength against the hatred lingering deep within her. It does nothing for her as they come within his living space. The traditional style custom to the Uchiha is present even as the outside looks so ordinary. The chabudai is the lone piece that sets to provide her any form of comfort. It's just as the one within her home.

The comfort provided is small and fleeting.
Did this man long for home?

The chabudai is where her husband had teased her. The chabudai is where her husband had agreed for her to practice her traditions.

"What did you wish to speak about?" his voice is deep, and eerily soothing—just a bit deeper in tone than that of her husband's.

Viridian cannot help but compare these siblings. The deep exhaustion that hang under his eyes have not found their way to her husband. Did the terrors he cause bring sleepless nights? Would her husband acquire them as he continued down this road as a war god?

The long locks of hair he kept tamed within a low hanging ponytail only seeks to further remind her of her husband. If she had not cut Sasuke's hair would he look just as this man before her does? There is no doubt they had come from the same family. Their features while so different were undeniably from the same family.

The silence in the air is tight around them. She sits here now wishing more than ever that the words she had found within the day would come back to her. Every moment she stands before him seeks to flush her skin warm with hissing hatred. The scolding within her head comes reminding her that she would not stay stuck in the past. She would not let this man control her further. She would not let him stop her from moving forward.

The lackadaisical attempt decorating his face never wavers even as they stand within the deafening silence. He's waiting for her to find her voice, and that look upon his face has words spilling from her lips, "I am your brother's wife."

Her voice had been far softer than she would have ever intended before this man.

There is no point behind these words—he had known this already.

Viridian cannot hold his gaze as it bores upon her being. There's a pain in this look of his. It holds the same scrutiny it did before. She had meant to find an understanding between them, and it only continues to be out of reach in the thick silence that's come over them once again.

The seconds feel longer than they should, and then his words follow, "Ah, and does he love you?" his words are not cold, nor are they mocking her. There is a hint of knowing behind them. It's subtle and small. Yet, that does not lessen the reality of its presence.

That hint of knowing does nothing but heighten the loathing deep within her—it does nothing more than twist the metaphorical blade deeper. This man knows that she has already lost the flow of this conversation. This man knows that he holds the control.

Hatred.

She had thought many things going into this. She had thought of the possibilities that would be within this moment of time between them. There had been the contemplation on if she could truly handle the sight of him. There had been the consideration on if she could maintain herself before him. There had been the determination that she would not let this man swallow her whole once more.

The word itself is heavy.

She had thought of all the things he could possibly say and yet none of them had ever thought he would question his brother's love. Never had she considered he would question her marriage. It does not lessen the blow she feels to her heart. It's steady within its rhythm, but the uncertainty, just like that hint of knowing within his words, is subtle but there. That uncertainty can grow. That knowing of his has already started to grow.

It weighs you down and yet, so many people feel that, you know?

Her tongue presses within the roof of her mouth. He pushed her off the cliff into the sea of uncertainty without remorse. She has plunged further into loss at how to respond. This single question has brought her own insecurities into the air. It has given them a physical being before her eyes. It begs to question if he can see them just as she can.

Did her husband love her?
She had asked for his love.

Did her husband want to love her?
She had asked him such.

There had been no answer. There had been no response from her husband's side. He had kept her within the world of questions. He still, deep within their union, had never seemed to answer a single question she had ever held. It's within this moment she feels as though she is alone.

Alone with nowhere to go. Alone without a hand to reach for in this union she was bound to in front of her gods. Alone like she had been when she had first arrived within the home this man once called home.

She does not feel her brother-in-law standing before her, and she does not feel the shinobi meant to protect her. She feels only those feelings of uncertainty that this man before her has given life to. The feelings she had come within are solely her own. They are not her husband's doubts, and the ache that comes from these feelings—entirely her own—forces her firm pressed lips to soften. Disbelief decorates her as she continues to fall deeper among uncertainty.

All this uncertainty—was this what had made her wish to push her hatred upon her husband? Is this what had made it so easy to find excuses?

Her life had dabbled in uncertainty for almost two years.
In two years she still had so many insecurities.

What if her husband was incapable of such things?
Had she ever considered such a thought?

Fingers close upon her mouth as the realization overtakes her senses. This was something she had neglected in her attempts to bring him peace. He had continued to go into battle without an anchor, and she had selfishly hoped that he would not leave her side. He had shown her kindness, and she had allowed herself to romanticize that kindness. He had felt a pain she had finally tasted. She had allowed that cup of poison to slide down her throat and it had held a portion of her heart every since—it was addictive.

He had lost so much within the war—everyone had lost so much within the war.

The slow descent of her fingers leaves but a ghostly touch upon her skin as she takes it all in once more. Her fingers slide upon her throat and catch hold of the necklace that had once adorned her father—it's cold as if it has lost her father's warmth.

Your husband, I'm assuming, fights in the war.
He does exactly what you hate this person for to others.

"I'm guessing he does not."

Her father had been the kindest of people. He had been one of warmth, and sun. He had been one of hope, and he had been one of overwhelming protection. That in which he wore now sat upon her neck—it's as if his warmth and his love could not reach her in this home.

Just don't forget that I am here
and so is your father.

Those words bring her from herself. They are a reminder that she is not alone, and that she had allowed this man to swallow her once more. She had allowed herself to give this man control. He and the one meant to protect her in her husband's place had been able to see her insecurities, her uncertainties, and her doubts as they teased and pulled her back into hatred.

We love you, Sakura—
Please don't forget to lean on me, and never think you can't lean on him
.

She has allowed the shaky foundation that is her union—her marriage—to be on display before them both.
She had given them both the chance to see how easily this man could swallow her completely.

Not again—never again—would she give him such pleasure.

Wide doe-eyes blossom as they find the ebony that continue to read her every thought. His words haunt the air caressing her skin. There is the urge to defend her marriage. She longs to make it clear there is no weakness within their walls. To do so would be to deceive this man before her. Viridian fill with fear at what her face shows. She cannot allow him to know more than she has let out for all in this room to see. Those endless ebony of his could not be deceived so halfheartedly. She needed to stand firm within her heart before this man. She was not alone. Her father would be there to protect her. Her mother would be there to allow her to lean upon her when she could not find the answers. Her husband—

Her husband did all he could to keep what was left of his world protected and within his hands.
Had she become a member of the collective things that he sought to keep within his fingers?
Was she a part of that world?

Would her husband be distraught if she was not there within his life?
Did her husband love her deeply?
No.

Her viridian widen more if even possible. Her fingers tighten upon the floral pendant seeking to stop the pounding of her heart. Sasuke was kind, but kindness was not love. It was not deep. It was not proof of his feelings. Thought after thought continues to crush her—her feelings hang by a thread at the end of a dream.

"He has and would punish any who upset her."

Her head aches with the speed in which she has whipped it to gaze upon Shisui who dares to intervene.

Because, Sasuke Uchiha, would no doubt protect her.

The assault that comes with that thought is harsh and fast. Her husband did not love her deeply, but he cared. He cared in the smallest of ways. He was trying to care. He was doing all the he knew to show her in that way that was so painstakingly himthat he had begun to care. He had begun to feel anchored to this world.

He had shown it with each utterance of the word annoying carrying an almost teasing nature. He had shown it when he told her to call him by his name. He had shown it when he had allowed her to cut his ebony strands to remove the familiarity of this sibling before her. He had shown it when he had reached out to her asking her to go to him. He had shown it when he had held her as she let her tears fall over Hikaku's death. He had shown it when he had thanked her in the previous year as she hung the intricate red knot upon the tree he had sought refuge in off the battlefield. He had shown it when he had sent her word of victory taking her offered hand with a smirk. He had shown it when he stood beside her as she drowned within her anguish at losing her father.

Her brows pinch together as her viridian steel with resolve. Shisui had managed to prove her wrong all over again. He had managed to remind her of all the little things that Sasuke Uchiha showed. The thoughts that shake within her heart are loud within her head. They are screaming, and they will not be ignored.

Would they appreciate you taking your love for them and turning it into hate?
Would her husband appreciate her taking his care for her and turning it into hate
?

He had shown it when she had come home to find his fingers wrapped around the male who had dared to tell her of her husband's possible infidelity—he was angered that she would be hurt by such things. He had shown it when he had sought her to help him sleep—he had pulled her to him. He had shown it when he asked of Magu, and Chang'e allowing his curiosity to be seen with her viridian—he had asked so innocently within his newly formed interest. He had shown it when he pressed his fingers upon the child's back she carried welcoming her home—his tone had been warm and inviting.

Over and over again.
As if she were on repeat.

She continued to tell all that would hear that he was kind.
He had always been so kind.

He had shown it when he had grasped her rose-colored strands within his fingers—he had allowed her to provide him with comfort after they had fought. He had shown it when he had pleaded for her to look upon him before pressing his lips to her own—he had taken her within his warmth as if to take away her insecurities. He had shown it when he had taken so much care in her the following day—he had given way to an apology she had never seen coming. He had shown it when he had forced the woman who had hurled the racial slur at her to apologize—he had been ruthless in gaining it to make her happy. He had shown it when he had told her he wished to see her perform the dance—he wanted her to welcome the spring.

Had she become a member of the collective things that he sought to keep within his fingers?
Was she a part of that world?
Yes.

"You asked me if my husband loves me—I cannot answer that. I do not know what it is my husband feels towards me. He cares for me though. They are small things. They are the smallest of attempts, but he's trying." there is pride within her title as wife as she finds her foundation stronger than it had been before she had walked within this home so detached of warmth.

The things her husband gave were for her, and her alone. He had made no promises, he had given her no expectations, and yet when he had been given the opportunity to bed another he had instead waited for her. He demanded that woman leave from their home. He did not want her hurt. He did not want her swallowed by unspeakable sadness.

He did not want his care to turn into hate.
—Just as her father, and mother did not want their love turned into hate.

Has Sasuke-san, truly been cruel to you?

"Sasuke-kun is learning to love. He is learning to take back what you had taken when you left his side to fight against him." she has taken a step forward—it echos in accusation, "I am taking back what you sought to take when you killed my father."

The male of ebony who had dared to question their marriage—dared to question her—allows his lids to dip shut. There is a hum to his words, and his features give nothing away at her words, "You say that he cares for you. You say that he is learning to love, but can he love you? You say you are taking back what I have taken from you, but can you?"

There is no hesitation—no moment of time even as small as a millisecond—before she answers his challenge, "We can."

The smirk that shapes its way within the corners of his mouth make her question what she has agreed to. The male's arms have come to cross over his chest as he takes in a notable inhale deep within, "We will see then. I look forward to seeing his love for you, imouto. I also look forward to seeing you welcome the spring. It always was my favorite part in the New Year celebrations."

There is a teasing tone to his voice and it only furthers to make her own lips decorate within a scowl at such behaviors. They had reached some form of understanding though, and that is all she had sought from this. She dips her head forward, "Thank you for taking the time to speak with me." there is no desire to hear more from this man, yet as his feet carry him toward her she does not move.

"I would not recommend telling telling him we spoke. It'll only anger him." his fingers raise and there is the sudden surge of fear that flickers within her mind—she needed to defend herself.

"Itachi-san."

Viridian close at Shisui's warning tone. The flinch is involuntary, and with it comes hesitation. At first there is nothing. Seconds span and with it her lids begin their slow raise to allow her viridian to see if Shisui has stopped him from what she assumes to be an act of harm.

The look upon his face is not condescending. It does not hold the desire to harm. It does not hold the desire to cause her pain—it's tender. It has lowered her desire to step away from him as two of his fingers make their way to her. The tap upon her seal is gentle, "Till next time."

The warmth within this moment is one she does not understand. It is unearthly in its affection, and viridian can only widen. She had come to this home. This home had held no heart. This home had lost all attempts at warmth. It did not show his family. It did not show what was tucked so deep within him.

Home is where the heart was—perhaps this man had locked away his heart.
Perhaps he had locked away his home.
Perhaps he longed for home.

Someone so warm in this moment could not possible be without a heart.

Was this man looking upon her with such a tender expression the same individual that had held no care as he had dropped her father's body upon the ground? Was this a glimpse of the sibling that her husband had adored within his childhood?

Her husband had loved him deeply.

The cold chill that hits her face is not felt as they leave. There are no words between her and her guard. This comrade of hers held only the usual soft smile that he carried with him naturally. Her feet stop within the road at the lingering feel of the traitorous fingers still ghosting upon her seal. The raise of her own fingers go to it with the gentlest of touches as if she would frighten the feeling away. Her heart is slow within its beat, and then there is an almost pained smile that decorates the spring wife's features.

Yes, this was definitely the man her husband had loved deeply.
This man was entrusting her husband's love to her now.

She had gone to him in search of an understanding. She had left with so much more than just an understanding. He had asked her to not utter of this meeting to her husband—it sat ill within her but she would honor his request. He had been affectionate, and he had held the smallest hint of other intentions with his actions—what those intentions were she did not truly know. There was warmth behind them though. Even across the battlefield there was obvious love within him towards her husband—towards his brother.

Had this man lost that warmth when he had sided with the Senju?
No—he still held it for the sibling he left behind.

Had this man lost his longing for home when he had sided with the Senju?
No—he still longed for it deep behind the walls he had built around his heart.

That realization had come with just the touch of his fingers gracing her pale purple seal.


Snow blanketed the trees, and the ground in which he walked. His comrade walks beside him as they headed for the gates in view only speaking lowly with the smallest of conversations to ease the journey. Items of deep rich reds, and bright golds—the symbols in which her traditions held closes—hung from trees long since dormant with the chill of the season. There is a longing as they come closer, and there is hope she will be at these gates to welcome him within this world of hers that he knew very little of.

As they step through he does not catch the sight of pale rose-colored strands, and instead more deep rich reds and bright golds cover all they can. There is a call for his attention and it brings his eyes to search out his mother-in-law. Very few note him, and there eyes linger upon his person. Inhaling the chilled air deeply he pays no mind. Reputation proceeds him, and such things are to be expected within territories outside of his own. The call of his name finally grasps his attention though, and it's with ease he spots his mother-in-law. There is a calmness to her—their understanding still grounded, and maybe even a hint more after giving her daughter back for this short amount of time.

He gives a nod coming to her side. The male that joins her is silent. There's no missing his obsidian hair, and thick eyebrows. Disdain is what he finds within the obsidian that look to him with greetings between him, and his mother-in-law. Disdain was normal, and disdain was fine. Who was he to care of the feelings of someone upon the opposing side?

His mother-in-law ushers him forward to walk through the overwhelmingly large village pointing out things he held no use for. Thick and large tree branches are throughout the village twisting among the homes of those who reside. She had said so long ago that the red, and gold covered all that the eye could see, yet seeing it and hearing it were two different things. It's overwhelming to a point, and more than he could have ever pictured it. Lanterns hang with succession down pathways all around, door couplets with black ink in characters he does not understand line the doors in pride, intricate and exotic red patterns sit upon the windows his ebony gaze into, red diamonds with more of the same black ink are within every place he looks, and lines of gold have weaved themselves around all they can. All who have come, and live within this world dare not to walk within the middle of the path of what he can only assume is the main stretch. They line the way with excitement radiating their being unphased by the snow and winter air.

Deep within his mother-in-law's lead she stops with hesitance before turning to him. The smile that decorates her mouth and leads to the glowing viridian she has blessed her daughter with is one he knows far to well. It's the smile that the ethereal being that is his wife had given to him countless times. He realizes the mother of his wife has given far more than just her glowing viridian to the spring nymph.

The joy that fills her as she swells with pride is overflowing as she speaks, "Please look upon her with the same pride they do—that I do."

He does not know how to answer her, and can only widen his ebony at her request before the sounds of drums, tambourines, and flutes fill the air drawing his attention down that which he had come. Women dressed with foreign gowns of gold, and faces covered by deep rich red veils dance down the line of people with fabric of vibrant red clutched within their fingers joining them. Their feet stomp upon the snow covered ground with each hit of the drums as if they do not notice the white fluff covering their toes. Bells that hang from their ankles and wrists ring out with every little movement they provide their audience. Ebony dare not remove his gaze as he watches all that comes before him as the people give way to cheers. A lone woman within the center captures his ebony seemingly unable to remove themselves from her. He finds himself entrance as his eyes follow the almost liquid movement of the azure blue gown lined in gold that slides up the legs of the woman as she moves within the beat of the drum. Delicate pale green sleeves float within the air giving no exposure to the hands within them. The veil of black gives nothing away, and he is desperate to believe that this is his wife before him.

The muffled cry that breaks him free of the dancer falls from his mother-in-law drawing his ebony. Any question of who dances within the middle is thrown away instantly in seeing the beaming smile, and tears that fall from the spring wife's mother. His mouth begins to part as he slides his eyes from the woman to his otherworldly wife. The vibrant red tied above her chest spins effortlessly with her as she gives forth a twirl upon a set of her exposed toes bringing the pale green above her. He is completely drawn in by her, and completely rendered defenseless. She has brought him into a world that only she resides in just as she had more times than he could possibly remember. His heart pounds against his chest as she moves down directly within his gaze with a jump that shakes the ground before them making the crowd cry out louder than before. He does not take in those adorned in more gold and red with large faces of lions within the forefront, nor those who slither through with the head of a dragon, and body so impossibly long. Time has completely halted around him as she disappears down the road within the parade with the fictional beasts in tow, and band close behind. The sounds of the instruments do not find his ears. The voices of cheer among him fall upon deaf ears.

This loss of reality served to only provide a swelling of pride heavy upon his lungs. He does not understand that in which he has watched, yet the words the blonde had said fill his being.

Please look upon her with the same pride they do—that I do.

The wild beat of his heart makes his eyes fall with wonder upon his roughened fingers before they curl inward. This woman in all of her spring, and all of her unearthly being he has decided will be what drowns him. There is a longing to be completely submerged within her floral scent, and glowing viridian. This is the woman they had plucked from a village so unknown to him before. This woman was far more than any of them could have ever imagined, and she would forever be more than he could ever realize even in moments such as this.

It's the pull of his arm by the spring nymph's mother that drags him back down to the snowy earth. His obsidian are wild in startle and yet he does not stop her as she pulls him with shuddered breaths. The tears this woman had poured out upon seeing her daughter still cling to her face. There is love, and adorationand if possible a rich rawness that holds no name.

Is this how his mother had gazed upon him when she walked among them?
Is this how his mother had felt when he had learned their coming of age jutsu?

Longing has settled deep within his heart as he focuses upon the mother before him. He has no care for where she drags him too. There is now even more understanding, and resolution to this woman he had held no care for not to long ago. Acceptance for their differing ideals comes with this, and the desire to treat her with more care follows. This woman has given everything she can with the loss of her daughter, and loss of her husband. This war, and his family has taken all that they can from her and yet, she, just as she has taught her daughter, still reaches forward towards the future. He cannot keep them apart like this. He needs her to be a part of their world so she does not lose her way as he has. He needs her to continue looking upon her daughter with that same pride she gazes upon her with today.

He holds his ground stopping her pull to give way to a loosened grip upon his arm. She turns to look upon him with the male that had followed in silence steadying her. The glowing viridian she had blessed her child with are decorated in confusion at his abrupt halt in being dragged along. Her fingers begin to pull away from his arm, and it's with that his free hand stops them from leaving his person. He gives a notable deep breath as all those with them await what he is to do next.

Ebony flicker from her gaze as if pained only to come back. His throat tightens as he swallows before his mouth forms what he knows needs to be said, "Thank you. . .Mebuki."

Her glowing viridian hold the wide doe-eyed look her daughter gives so easily, and a tear falls from her as she gives a tight squeeze upon the hand that has captured hers—she is beaming at him.

This is how this woman had produced a child of spring. This is how she had produced the ethereal, otherworldly, and absolutely unearthly woman who wore his clan's symbol upon her back. This is how she had create the spring nymph who encased him within a world so entirely hers, and this is how she had raised a daughter to become the woman who healed, mended, and gave in every way she could.

Time passes with no stop in sight as the busy household that Mebuki has brought him to prepares food for what he has heard them call a reunion dinner. He had not realized his wife held so many relatives, and that he had gain so many within his union. They have taken his cloak, and sat him along with his comrade within one of the many rooms within the house. The food they prepare is thick within the air as children surround him in curiosity.

Paintings, and all that adorn this home carries a foreign air around him as he sits within it. The unease it causes radiates within him, and his comrade as they look upon each other fleetingly trying to take it all in. Footsteps make their way to them and it's hard to look as though they have found comfort within this home.

"She's coming! She's coming!" a woman of chocolate brunette locks pinned into buns calls to him, and he cannot stop himself from raising from his seat in haste to follow after her abandoning the fellow Uchiha.

It's in the entry way that he takes a spot next to his mother-in-law. She comes through the door in yet another painstakingly foreign attire of pale rose, baby blues, and muted reds. The veil of black has yet to leave her, and it's as she turns with a fist pressed to her palm and bows that she dismisses a male of pale lead colored hair that brings her attention back to him. He has barely noticed Shisui behind her—guarding her as he has been tasked too. The transparent nightingale sash with floral gold pattern that wraps around her arms does not prohibit her movement to bring those delicate fingers up to raise the veil.

The warmth and tenderness that greets him stops the air within his throat. That milky unblemished complexion of hers is decorated with vibrant red upon her lids flowing out to her ears, gold lines the bottom of those glowing viridian only overlooked by thickened black lashes, and the vibrant red that touches just the bow of her upper lip, and a line down the center of her bottom—it only seeks to separate her from all within the room. Those forever long rose-colored strands he had longed for are pulled from her face. Only two of the smallest strands fram her cheeks. The rest is sheltered by the veil she has pulled up.

The praise, and cheer that overcomes them all fills the air, and yet he only seeks to hear the voice of his spring nymph wife who has yet to speak. They shower her with affectionate, and adoring hugs—with restraint to not ruin the image that she is in this moment.

Ebony look for this woman to seize him within her gaze, and as if it could not come quick enough it comes all at once. He watches as the corners of her mouth hidden by makeup widen as she moves toward him creating that closeness that she does with no effort, "Welcome home, Sasuke-kun."

These words are all too familiar, and even though their roles reversed he feels as if he has returned to a place he knows all to well. The weeks in which she had been gone from his side seemingly gone, and nonexistent at her call to him.

His feet carry him forward moving passed the overfilled hall to stand before her. There is no public affection to show between them. There is no hand reaching to take her own petite ones within his. There is no forehead presses, nor is there him enveloping her within his protection. He gives a calmed nod to her in response and that by itself is enough to make her beam at him with teeth coming into view and soft laughs escaping her mouth.

Her mother has dragged her from him soon after to release her hair, and face from her role, and it's as they sit at the table adorned with fish, radish filled dumplings, spring rolls, sweet rice balls, fruit, and noodles that she is by his side once more. The chatter that falls from the mouths of her relatives creates a dining experience he is not accustomed too. She's whispering within his ear the meaning behind that which is on the table—catfish brings with it an increase in prosperity, radish filled dumplings hold desire of good wealth, spring rolls only seek to further the desire for good wealth within the coming year, sweet rice balls ask for family togetherness, fruit wish upon fullness, and noodles the luck of happiness and longevity. She is there to guide him in understanding their traditions.

She responds within the circle of conversation, that he feels as though he cannot join, occasionally continuing to whisper explanations to him and keep him from being completely foreign among their customs.

The woman who had called at her return—Tenten, he has learned is her name—speaks of her travels, and missions upon the battlefield. She is one he is fighting against. She is a Senju believer, and he dares not speak of his own conquests in front of her. He will not do anything to ruin this moment his wife deserves. He will not take what she is meant to have in this moment.

Sasuke finally allows his bones to feel the exhaustion that he had ignored, and it's as they lay within one of the many rooms her cousin, Tenten, has provided for their stay that he finally feels as though he has taken her all for himself. He is a selfish man, and even in his attempts to refrain from such selfish things he cannot help but relish in it in this moment.

Those fingers of hers have long since made their way to his hair rubbing those soothing circles he finds peace within. Soft whispers fill the small distance between them continuing her teachings. The foreign clothing she has worn are called hanfu, lanterns ward off bad luck, many of the door couplets are poems of spring but vary, the diamond shaped red items pour luck from them, and she continues to explain so much more. Overwhelmed does not begin to explain all that he feels with her teachings. He wonders if this is how she too felt when entering his home.

Had she felt foreign within their home?

As if she has heard his unspoken question she drags her fingers from his head to rest upon his cheek only lingering for seconds before curling to her chest.

She had thought his eyes upon her were that of distaste for her ethnicity—he hopes she had caught his gaze as he watched her within the parade completely wrapped within her. She had needed to remove the disdain she held against herself and he hopes with the pride all who gaze upon her right now has removed even just a tiny portion of it. She had needed to wash the disgust she felt for being different off, and he hopes that she has managed to scrub some of it from her with these small steps at accepting all of her he works to give. There is so much more before him, and all of these reasons are why regardless of how overwhelming her traditions and culture may be he will continue forward.

Because she deserved it.

Finally he gives way to hold her hand within his—this is just another small step—as his lids begin to fall, and blur her from his sight. Even here, and even now he will protect her. Silently. Surely. He will protect her until she can stand tall once more.


The first day of their New Year is spent within her cousin's home. She has brought him books to gaze over as their family embraces their time together. Friends of hers have come from their own homes, and travel to see her. He takes only subtle interest in those visiting visit. The blonde woman is loud and only holds looks of disdain upon him. The male that had accompanied her mother shows obvious interest in her—it makes his eyes flicker from the page he's reading to study him before turning back to the paragraph they had left fleetingly. Interest in his wife would prove fruitless thanks to their union. He sees no reason to even humor it.

It's midday that the male who had brought her home with pale lead colored hair arrives to retrieve her. There is the wonder of where he has spotted this man before as his ebony stare back within the males relaxed gaze.

"Kakashi-san, this is Sasuke-kun." he can feel his wife's smile within her words

"Ah, so you're the famed husband." there is humor within this man's voice as he crosses his arms.

"Hn." he now knows where he has seen the man before—the battlefield. This man adores his wife. It's obvious in the way in which he speaks with her, and that makes him relax. This man would not hurt her to get back at him for whatever possible misfortune he may have caused him. Shisui has come to her side to follow after them in his task of guarding her, "She will be fine."

There's hesitation within the other Uchiha at his words, "Sasuke-san, are you sure?"

Sasuke can only nod before resuming his reading. Fingers come within his hair and that makes his eyes slowly raise knowing the ever familiar feeling of the spring nymph's touch. There is a pleased look decorating her face. It's a silent thank you for his trust within someone that she appears to adore as well.

He was at war with those who were close to her before she had been plucked to marry him for political gain. The reason behind her disdain the first time his ebony had taken her in is all the more clear. This was more than a difference in ideals. This had been because those she now called family had most-likely taken one who adored her away. Never, though, had she outright said a word. Never, though, had she ever accused. He wonders if the pain of losing one, or more of her friends had broken her like her father's passing.

She had experienced loss far more than he had realized. Yet, in these moments, and throughout their union she had removed her disdain for him. She sought love from him now.

The man has taken her from him once more to practice before the fifteenth day in which she will perform her coming of spring dance. The hours she is gone leave him restless within the home of her cousin. The members attempt to include him, but quickly find he has little to offer in the way of company. They learned quickly he was a man of few words.

The second day they give way to religious ceremony to honor their gods. The gods in which they give honor to are vast, and some mirroring his own. She speaks within whispers to give explanation as it unfolds before him. Tiānshén—the god of heaven who gives birth to all things, Nu Wa—the goddess who had mended the earth when it had been broken, Xiwangmuthe goddess of pure yin, Dongwanggong—the god of pure yang, Yánwáng—the god of death who passes judgment upon the dead. There are many and it's hard to keep up with her explanations. He questions how she could possibly remember them all—Huǒshén the god fire, Leishen the god of thunder, Chūnshén the spring god, Xīhé the great sun goddess, and Chang'e the goddess of the moon.

That last one is one he thinks he could never forget, and just as before, again, she leaves his side shortly after honoring her gods.

He hears the whispers among his wife's uncles of her breaking their traditions in the following year by not leaving his side to come to them. There is guilt in keeping her inside his home, and by his side. The guilt is just a touch, and just a hint, but it's still there. Mere seconds after their whispers fill the air do their eyes shift fleetingly to him that he feels as though his hand is held. Even here his mother has traveled to protect him, and give him strength. Warmth is within his palm even without her physical presence and he again gives silent gratitude.

Cloak of deep rich obsidian covers his shoulders as his mother-in-law takes him with her among the crowd of people who seek to receive blessing. The looks he gets are ignored the same as they had been within the eve of the New Year so unfamiliar to him. This mother-in-law does not hesitate with him, and it's in handing him a treat that she whispers for him to give it to a neighbor's dog. He does not understand the meaning behind this, but he does so without question earning him warm smiles from the spring nymph's mother.

His wife's return that night shows exhaustion upon her face.

It's on the third day that she has explains is one to give honor to ones ancestors. The women of the household have risen well before they, the men, do. He takes this time to take in the company of Shisui, and the one lone comrade who continues to participate within his wife's customs. He cannot help but be thankful that he is not alone in the new things that continue to come before him.

He watches as his wife takes the lead in these moments. He wonders how much pride he can truly feel with it thick upon his chest within the side role he claims in every thing that they do. There are no visitors within this day except for the pale lead haired male that continues to come for her. He knows that this will continue within the days before him, and he accepts it. He accepts the veil that hides her face when she parts from him, and he accepts the importance his wife holds within that fifteenth day.

The days are long and each hold their own meaning. There is hope that with the fifteenth day he will no longer have to watch her back as she leaves through the entry way. He holds no interest in the town outside these walls. Interest could prohibit him down the line. Interest could halt, and hesitate his push in the war, and he holds no desire to give way to such things when all eyes looked to him for victory. He was a man who was cruel, and it is only the relative of chocolate brunette hair that he has acquired through his marriage that he would show such hesitation. Crueler men have done far worse, and he hopes that his silent pledge to never go against this new member of his family will be enough to warm his wife's heart as he possibly cuts down others who adore her.

It's on that fifteenth day that he awakens and she is not there beside him as his lids flutter open. Her side has gone cold and yet it does not stop his fingers from reaching within the place she had resided. Sluggish and worn from the events he finds his way into new clothes, and awaits his mother-in-law to lead him. She wears what he can only assume is a hanfu of muted red and white. Those who have found their way from their rooms are prepared and ready to leave—they do not hide their smiles, or joy.

Time lingers as if a second is a minute, and an hour is truly two. The fear that creeps upon him settles within him. His lackadaisical attempt still decorates his face, and yet he knows that it only hides the discomfort he feels. There is no explanation for this fear he did not know could come, but the vexation it brings lingers within the curling of his fingers that do so as if to calm him.

It's deep within the city that he follows his mother-in-law in silence. The blonde, and the obsidian haired male have come in tow with the many relatives, and even they do not speak within these moments. The odd quiet of all who surround him holds an overwhelming thick air as if everything rides upon the thin shoulders of his wife. It's impossible to miss his leader as they come upon him out and away from the gates. He notes the Hyuuga leader beside him with his eldest daughter, long since hidden from the public eye, among them. The Senju leader's eyes fall upon him fleetingly motioning his own leader to look to him. The bright blonde hair of the one who stands beside him is all the same grins he knew from their battles. This is where the man had been. He had been here deep within this village instead of the frontline. He cannot stop the tightening of his jaw as he leaves his mother-in-law's side.

The protection of his mother is what guides him forward with no hesitation among those that gaze to him. Madara holds humor within his voice, "Have you enjoyed yourself?" he can only give but a silent nod in reply, "I look forward to seeing your wife's performance."

Fingers twitch in attempt to quell the whisper of danger among the Senju's second in command's gaze, but it is the blonde who speaks, "Wait, you're Sakura-chan's husband?"

His ebony flash at the affectionate name his enemy has given his wife. He does not understand when or how they have come to know each other, and how they had come to such affectionate terms, "Ah, so you know of her Uzumaki-san?"

The curiosity within his leaders words carry his own as he keeps his gaze upon the azure, "It's hard not to know Sakura-chan when Kakashi-sensei is the one overseeing everything—There was that time in the woods too." the blonde is warm smiles, and radiating in tenderness as he places his hands behind his head.

Lips part at the words and he feels vexation swell within him as if to grab the blonde by his throat for having been anywhere near his wife. There is frustration at who had allowed his wife without protection, and there is lividity in her never speaking of such meetings. What else had this nymph of spring kept from him?

His leader lets out a hum, and it's here that Sasuke knows his leader sees he has no clue of their meeting. As if to silence any thought further the sound of drums brings their eyes to the growing circle of people who open for the gates down the way. Following his leader is second nature as they come to stand within the front of the crowd. Ebony fall upon his mother-in-law across the way fleetingly before setting their gaze towards the gates.

The women of gold with red veils dance down from the gates towards the circle. The vibrant red fabric still connecting them as it had the first time he had witnessed them. It is even now that the snow beneath their feet hold is unnoticed within their bare toes. They come within the circle to the beat of the drum until all who perform are collected, and kneel as if the drum did not produce their movements. Silence is thick among all who have come as he drags his ebony from them and back to the gates that are down so much further than he remembered.

The figure that walks unbound to the beats of the drum comes closer and with her closeness the instruments silence themselves. There would be no missing the otherworldly creature that was his wife as she came forward still. The black veil no longer hides her face, and in its place the skull of a deer sits perched upon her head hiding the glow of the viridian that he knows hides within the shadow it creates. His breath is caught deep at the base of his throat at the exotic being that is this creature of absolute spring. The pearls that trail within the horns trail within her hair blooming to green vines, and lavender colored floral arrangements he could not name. The top that adorns her is much like the cheongsam he had grown accustomed to. It's of the palest of peaches stopping just above her waist. Mesh of the same hue as her milky complexion bleeds to gold upon her stomach. Pearls and golden swirls decorate the transparent fabric leading down to more fabric of pale rose upon her hips. The color of this skirt is only out done by the pale rose-colored curls that wrap themselves behind her. The slits within it give way to legs clad in lavender that halt their coverage at her ankles adorned by the very same bells that hang upon her wrists. Wind flows through and sending the floor reaching golden pellucid cloth that hangs from her shoulders to glide behind her. The sword wrapped loosely upon her hip finally makes itself known with such assistance.

She is unphased and it does not stop her slow stride to the middle of this circle they have created for her.

It's a stage.
It's her stage.

She is kneeling with her fingers sprawled upon the snow, and he can only gaze with lips parted in thought that she is truly is just as unearthly as he has always thought she was in these last two years. She jumps in sudden movement. Those fingers slim and slender come together sending a gust of air forth, and in return send his heart wild. Her feet collide with the ground releasing tremors from where she lands. The drums beat to life within her landing, and the women of gold raise to encase her within the circle. Fingers have made their way to his shoulder causing him to whip his head back. There had been no warning and no sign of another so close, and yet Izuna is here beside him so suddenly as if to ground him and keep him from being completely immersed in her. Ebony come to ebony and he can only now let the air that sought to leave him out slowly.

The movement of the women of gold have stopped once more kneeling again, and it's here that he realizes he's missed her drawing her sword to gaze down the path towards the gates. A depicted creature of an ox, and tiger made of colorful fabric and comes for her with speed she had not had when she too had made the journey down the path. As it nears her she gives way to two swipes of her blade to each side of his head twirling into more evened flicks of her blade.

He does not understand her as much as he believed he did in these moments. She still was forever elusive and a mystery. She was still forever unable to be understood. The fabric flows with every step, and every sway she makes. The curls behind her do not hinder her movement in any way that she turns within the circle going round with the makeshift creature following her every move.

Fingers curl and he can only hope that his mother stands beside him to see the woman he had joined in marriage with in these moments. The fear he had felt has come back—it's heavy upon his chest. It's suffocating him. He is afraid of this woman. He is afraid of what power she holds. She is a mender, and a healer. She is a wife, and a nymph of spring. She held strength far beyond that of the men he had dragged into hell within this war bred of ideals. Effortless, and completely with ease she has rendered so many before her under her spell. She has taken them to the world of spring that he truly believes she has hailed from. She has encased them all within the slowest movements of time. She has rendered him defenseless—and that is what he fears. He fears the warmth that she gives to him. He fears the smiles she showers upon him. He fears those impossibly gentle fingers of hers within his ebony locks.

He, Sasuke Uchiha, could not be more afraid of Sakura Uchiha in this single moment.

The continuous flip she provides with her blade clenched within her teeth widens his ebony as she finally stands proudly with her arms fanned out from her sides. The being she is meant to defeat comes for her and with its approach she as set to move in a series of spins that rise and fall. Her fingers are always right where they need to be as she makes the dips within her twirls making the blade miss the women of gold that she glides in front of.

It's then in this moment of absolute raw fear that he feels the familiar touch of his mother. She is with him to witness this woman he has married. He knows that she would gaze upon the performance with intrigue, and he knows that she would feel the warmth that flows out from his wife's movements. In this fear she would squeeze his hand reassuringly. His eyes slowly remove themselves from the ethereal being to look at the woman who is not there, and never would be there in physical form. She may not truly be beside him, and yet he knows her to be there watching his wife with him. He knows she is smiling with tenderness at him coaxing a smile from his own lips because that was what this precious woman—gone from the world of the living—could do with ease.

The fear is washed from his being with the touch of the smile upon his lips, and it is with the same ease that his departed mother had in making him smile that he brings his ebony back to the rose-colored woman with the pride he was asked and meant to feel.

The beast falls, and she stands proudly within the center. Even in victory none speak, and the sounds of the instruments halt once more. The wind has returned to blow her locks and multicolored fabrics around her, and it's with that she brings her fingers up to the deer skull that has long since hidden her viridian. Those fingers pull it back releasing more of her hair to dance within the wind.

Her eyes glow—they have sought out his ebony.

He takes in the paint upon her. Pale rose covers all around her eyes, and the bridge of her nose blended with mint green that decorates below her eyes out to her cheeks. Gems adorn the colors like a mask, and eyelashes he had expected to frame the viridian are not blackened but instead white. Gold paper flies through the air as the skull hits the floor released from her fingertips, and the praise that echos among all of them is deafening. There are sobs that come forth from many with wails of gratitude. He cannot see or hear them though. He is wrapped in all that she is. Viridian hold him and he will not remove his gaze from hers. What does this otherworldly woman see before her?

Her whispers of tradition echo within him, and with it he brings his hands up to press fist to palm bowing before her. All around him have witnessed this exchange—his leader, his family, his friend, his enemy, his closest of rivals among the war, his bystander, and her.

Her traditions are no less a mystery, but this one is clear. There is respect in this demonstration. There is the deepest of gratitude exchanged with these actions. There is pride and how much he wishes to convey it.

Viridian look upon him with tears threatening to fall—had those wide doe-eyes ever glowed more than in this moment?

He respects her. He feels pride in her.
She holds a pride unlike any other.

The pride she knows he has in this moment needs no words. He has shown it in ways that he could never fathom moved her, and brought with it even deeper love that he would only one day come to understand.

The blade that she had kept within hand drops carelessly within the fluttered down gold paper that continued to pour from those who throw it in the wind, and the chilling snow. Her feet have carry her to him with tears that stain, and streak the paint upon her face. There is no stopping her arms that come around his neck in these moments. There is no urge to push her away in this public display they show. There is only the need to bring her closer as she sobs upon his shoulder. Roughened fingers find their way within the curls as its partner presses upon her back to make her as close to him as possible.

There is no care for any who dare to gaze upon them.
They would not stop this closeness that they have created.

The gratitude that pours from her is whispered, and repetitious, and neither takes note of those that surround them with hands pressed upon her with pride, that was only second to his own, in congratulations. His cheek presses to her stained face of mixed pale rose, and green as he brings his lips to her ear with words only she needed to hear, "All of them—they are all proud."

She has brought pride to all of them, and called for the coming of spring. She knows who he speaks of—his mother, his father, and her father, god especially her father. She has done them beyond proud.

Waves of people, who have come to thank her, render him unable to bring her into the warmth she has long since needed for far to long. The feet deep within the snow have gone numb, and that is why he gives her no choice in allowing him to carry her upon his back. He has failed to give his intended leaving to his leader, and those that surround him.

She was his priority in this moment. She had taken the top of the list.

All who set their eyes upon them do so in mystification. Their greatest fear—him, and their greatest pride—her, are so close, and so attached that even with whatever disdain they may feel towards him give way to smiles of warmth and tenderness.

This woman did not see sides. She did not recognize Uchiha from Senju. She only recognized the need to heal. She only recognized the need to mend. She only recognized the need to play her part within this story of him, and her.

She would know now though to recognize his pride in her.
There would be none who held pride in her the way he did now, and would forevermore.


Author Note:

Far longer than I had hoped to take, but it's here, and I got it done. It took me longer than expected to get into the groove again, my dudes. I plan to be back to my standard bi-weekly updates though now that I've found my pace again. So expected something around the 25th. This I knew from the get go would be my longest chapter. It beats chapter ten easily at 11,070 words before the author note. So much research had to go into this stuff, and honestly I can say I still don't think I learned enough. The Chinese New Year stuff is probably not correct as everywhere I read it was different. I went with what I felt flowed the best here. Everything, though, mentioned from the ornaments, to the gods all has a purpose and a place regardless of it's minor point or major piece. This is no where near as magical as I wanted it to be but I hope that I got some of it out there. In my head this was so much more, and as a writer it just shows the growth I need to obtain to possibly one day make it that way in stories. Sakura's design for this concept is 100% my own, and I had to draw it out and research designs like crazy to really feel concrete about this. A lot of times when I read fanfictions that have stuff similar to this concept I notice we always go for a lack of clothing. I am in no way against this but I needed flowing fabric and I needed layers for this. As a cosplayer I have no problem with skin showing. I feel massively empowered when I adorn costumes like that for my events. This though I think needed a touch of modesty mixed with daring. For traditional events I felt it couldn't show too much, but had to show enough. It's so easy to strip these ladies down, but I wanted her to have that power with out that.

This is by far my favorite moment I have ever written. You have no clue how much I've waited for this. This is probably the single biggest event of this story and easily blows the others to the side. I wanted something heartfelt. I wanted something that sucked you. I wanted as a reader to feel the intensity and feel that moment where you just couldn't look away. As I said though, in my head, it was a much more magical event. I wrote this though, and I see what growth I need for future stuff.

Now I gotta find a way to top this. Lolfuckme.

Reeeeeviews cause that shit is always booooomb.

777 - Thanks for the birthday wishes, and I'm glad you could empathize and feel the family stuff I wanted to share. Like dude I just wanna hug you. I cannot handle your level of just absolute cuteness. Christ. Ahhhh jdsajdsalkjdsla but seriously dude I'm glad to respond and happy too. You take a small portion of your time to get real with me, and it's only fair I provide the same.
Navika - Dude. The amount of just idon'tevenknow was so felt in reading your reply. Thank you for seeing me this way, and thank you for making me feel so unbelievably special. People think being soft is such a negative. It's not. It's just as powerful as the lion, and sometimes takes so much more heart. I always want to be close with others. I want to build those connections and I want to build them strong. I know I can't be friends with everyone, and I know that I won't get along with everyone. That's okay though because I'm always up for trying. You never know who is bound to enter your world, and while not everyone has a place beside you, you won't know until you make the attempt. Your parents sound absolutely wonderful. Seriously. I hope they feel the love you have for them, and I hope they know how much you appreciate them together and separate. Thank you again for the birthday wishes, and I hope that your parents enjoyed my ridiculous gushing over my parents haha.
Guest, about ass kicking - Eh it'll show up. Gotta get that patience out my dude.
Sanaa - I mean. I maybe can confirm a bit of said jealous sauce~ can't give way to too much tho lol
Guest, who loved the chapter - Thank you so much for reading and reviewing dude! Thank you as well for the compliment!
Guestluv - DUDE THAT CRINGE ASS SHIT WAS WORTH IT. I REGRET NOTHING. kinda. maybe a little. fuuuuck it. I hope you enjoy this shit cause jesus christ my dude. Just yaaaas. Also all them fucking hashtags on motherfuckin #point.
Guest, who enjoyed everything from the last chapter - MYDUDEISTHISCHAPTERFORYOU. Thank you for reading and reviewing my dude!
Jazz - Thank you for the birthday wishes! No apologies needed for the lateness! It's the thought that counts. I'm glad I can provide for my fandom and give back to those who ship the same ship I do!
Guest, who was confused about reviews showing up - Ya, na my dude. You probably did and fanfiction ate it probably. A lot of my reviews from the last chapter were eaten, and some never even made it to my inbox. I had a situation where I'd either get an email notification but couldn't see it on the website, or vice versa. This isn't the first time it's happened either so it can be a bit frustrating for both of us because I feel like I genuinely end up missing some now.
Guest, asking about my schedule on updates - the general timeline for me is every two weeks. That only changes if something comes up and prevents me from doing it, or if you guys catch up to where I am. At that point changes to my update schedule happen. I took about a month of during last chapter due to a convention, and now am needing to get further otherwise delays will occur. I do know in May I will be busy as well so there is possible delays that month with a trip to New York, and me moving into a new home.
Guest, throwing down truth bombs about Shisui - SHISUI IS A BOY OF BEST. LETS BE HONEST. Honestly I always get nervous with Shisui cause I want no one to like assume I'm doing some ship shit with them (cause I'm not). I think it's healthy and good to have this kind of camaraderie between Saku and him, and it makes me love and appreciate his character so much more to be able to put him in this role. Thanks for reading and reviewing dude and taking a moment to tell me all of these things.
Sharon - My duuuuude. I won't lie I considered how I would of written it if she had just lost it. I think though overall this was the best route to take. Naruto always gotta have that talk-no-jutsu on haaaaaaaaaaaaaand. It's a problem if we're being honest, but it doesn't mean I won't use it haha
EvY - Love you too boo~ #bowchikawowwow As for your second review! Thank you for taking the time to read my work dude. If I can submerge you I'm on the right path, and that makes it so worth it. It means I've doing something right even when I think I'm not. This is actually why I'm big on slow burns because it makes everything so much worth it, and that's why i wanted it like this. I wanted those kinds of reactions. I get feeling strongly about a persons work. While sometimes it can be frustrating regardless of if it's good, bad, frustrating, ugly, okay, or absolutely amazing I definitely feel like a lot of them make it worth it. I've been able to connect with a lot of people through this story and that's the best part. I decided to come back to fandom for this sole reason, and I definitely would never let it keep me from continuing forward. Thanks so much for all the compliments, and taking the time to give me such a big confidence boost, my dude. Seriously!
Guest, who kept refreshing - my bad dude, legit. I'm usually pretty good about staying on schedule but I ended up having some last minute out of town trips I ended up taking, and then I hurt my back this last week and wasn't able to do much until it was healed.
ASH MY HOMIE MAKIN ALL THEM MONEY MOVES - MY GURL. I MISSED YOUR ASS. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NO CRYING. I SWEAR TO GOD, MY DUDE. HOMIE LIKE I AM ALWAYS ON THE VERGE OF CANNOT, AND FEEL THIS EMOTIONALLY, DEEPLY, AND ADULTINGLY #toafuckingterriblepointlolfuck WE WILL MAKE THE GREATEST OF CHERRY TOMATO SALADS MY DUDE. JUST YOU WAIT. JUST YOU FUCKING WAIT #MAKEFANFICTIONGREATAGAINASHANDOMBREESTYLE Discord is like basically skype? It's the new thing all the kids are all about. I got insta it's . Hit my up yooooo I don't do snap as I honestly never just could get into it. I got twitter, insta, facebook, and all that other shit tho so trust me we got ways. WE WILL BE THE NEXT JK C.S. AUSTEN DICKENS OF OUR TIME. PM MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. #dudethelevelofthirstihaveforyouisunreal #noticemesenpai #lolalsoplssendmepie #allthisthroughcashcoloredlenses
Guest, who reminded me it's been a month - I'm sorry OTL I'm a shitlord. Hopefully this extra long ass chapter makes up for it.

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, or did both. Ya'll baller. #truestoftruths #yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasss