The Atrophy and Redemption of Uchiha Sasuke
Chapter Twenty: What Does It Matter?
All malevolent things depart the morning following the dregs of a storm. Dawn swells and swells again with new sunlight, but the smell of wet earth, the scent of the departed past, remains and permeates every inhale of the living. It is much like a memory.
Breathing, however, had already proven difficult enough for Uchiha Sasuke. He stared at the ceiling above with abject suspicion. It took significant concentration to ignore the heaviness in his lungs, for the sake of not disturbing the silence with yet another coughing fit.
Screen-filtered sunlight painted its illumination across the ceiling in uneven streaks, taunting his dispassionate gaze to follow. There was nothing else to look at anyway. Sakura was still asleep, and he did not desire to think about her at the moment.
When Sasuke woke up, it had been with disbelief at the realization that nearly another day had elapsed while he slept. Clouds outside prevented the afternoon sun from filling the room's interior, leaving it to depend on dim candlelight for illumination. The previous night's storm, however, had reduced itself to a drizzle, the chill of which reaffirmed Sasuke's suspicion as to his state of undress beneath the mass of blankets that enveloped him.
A drowsy moan from across the room caught his attention. Sakura had rolled over in her futon, still asleep despite the late hour. He noted that only one thin sheet covered her. It slid down her shoulders when she turned to face the wall, baring her naked back to his eyes. Feeling that annoying sense of guilt tease the edge of his senses, Sasuke looked away. He wound a handful of blankets up in his fist.
Foolish woman.
She should have taken more blankets for herself.
The Uchiha doubted that she had slept as long as he apparently had, and a casual perusal of the room proved his assessment correct. A pot of recently brewed tea on the floor by his bedside no longer emitted steam, but remained warm to the touch. His clothes, including various articles of feminine clothing that did not belong to him—some were familiar, yet the smaller articles he had never seen before—lay strewn over the low table at the room's center. Subjected to Kumo's cold weather, they still remained somewhat damp.
Something rustled in the hallway.
Sasuke's hand darted for his weapons pouch and retrieved a kunai. Much to his dismay, his hand shook, a mark of his declining health, but he tightened his grip and faced the shoji screen with determination.
By the time Sakura roused herself into a sitting position, the screen slid open. She barely remembered to cover her chest with a sheet, and yelped indignantly as Sai took in her nakedness with a quirked brow.
"Tch. Flare your chakra next time," Sasuke tossed the kunai in the general direction of his pouch and fell back onto the futon.
Sai continued to survey the sight before him, eyes narrowing at the clothing amassed conspicuously on the center table, "I apologize. As it is afternoon, I assumed you would be awake. Was there any trouble in my absence?"
"Um," Sakura glanced over at Sasuke, who still gazed tiredly at the ceiling, "no. No, everything was fine."
Once again, Sai's gaze flickered back to their barely dried clothing. Then he smiled and began laying out their new supplies. He took special care with the herb packages, "I am sorry for returning so late. The weather was worse than I expected."
Still flustered, Sakura scooted over and snatched her clothing up from the kotatsu, "Don't worry about it. The storm wasn't your fault. Now turn around, will you?"
He complied, but not before commenting blithely that he was not in the least tempted by Sakura's attributes or, in his humble opinion, her lack thereof.
Sakura dedicated the rest of that day tending to Sasuke's lungs. He put forth little resistance, either because he lacked the energy to do so or because he and Sakura had reached an unspoken understanding the night before. Sakura hoped dearly for the latter.
After a much more restful night of sleep, they awoke before dawn and prepared to depart for Fire Country. Subdued happiness and anxiety warred with each other in the kunoichi's gut. The excitement of returning home was undeniable, but they would not truly be going back to the village and—Sakura carefully eyed the Uchiha as he sipped tea made from the new herbs—their reasons for going there were certainly not pleasant ones.
Sakura later asked Sai to pay the innkeeper handsomely, knowing that he would be more inclined to forget that they stayed at the inn if he benefited financially from their secrets.
Sai's ink bird moved more slowly than it normally would, for he had to make it big enough to support all three of them. Nevertheless, air travel proved far superior to travel on foot, and what should have been a three-day trek by land became less than one.
Throughout the journey, Sasuke fought to stay awake. Sakura had tried to persuade him to recline backwards, but he had refused. He meditated beside her with his eyes closed, mouth covered by the high collar of his cloak. His poor health, despite the emotional vulnerability he had unwittingly betrayed to her at the inn, only made him more easily agitated. Sakura, however, did not take his aloofness to heart; rather, she was absorbed in her own embarrassment. It had been stupid of her to kiss him. It had more or less been a display of comfort, a natural inclination to desire closeness amidst terror and uncertainty. Still, she felt like she had betrayed his trust somehow. He had humored her and had not pushed her away, but he had really not responded either. Part of her wondered if he had been too physically and emotionally exhausted to even try. And that made her hate herself even more.
Aside from a few quips from Sai as he looked down at Sasuke's map, some good-natured, some insulting, the journey concluded itself in relative silence amidst the wind's currents.
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The first thought that entered Sakura's mind when they entered the tree-lined ravine was not one of relief, which she had expected. She felt instead the collective impressions of being a trespasser, as one who distinctly did not belong.
It practically breathed as a forested keeper, an anchorage of secrets, of tales entrenched within every gap of bark on every tree in the space between the mountains, distressed into the rock and pebbles eroded by the ceaseless onslaught from the river's path. This place existed beneath a verdant surface of happen-less silence. And yet it lived.
The very trees seemed to whisper, conferring in hushed tones about the trio's arrival.
How had this place gone on, untouched eight or nine years? And how long, before Uchiha Itachi had stumbled as if by providence upon its whereabouts, how long before then had it still lingered on untouched? Where, back in the violent chronicle of shinobi history, did the constructed birth of this stronghold, of this peaceful haven, lie?
It was as if they had entered an entirely new ecosystem. The ravine itself spanned large and winding within the range of hills, every slope dominated by the green overgrowth; only the mountains held back the sea of forestation. Sakura trusted Sasuke wholeheartedly, but had doubted his assertion that no one but he and Itachi ever knew of this location; but now, after beholding this landscape in person, she understood.
Sasuke, however, experienced none of her conflicted anxiety.
It was as if it had been waiting for him—the ravine, the mountains, the river, the unopened fortress, that precious hilltop—all of this place, in its entirety, dark but not malicious in its forest-shaded implications, welcomed him back with unassuming quietude.
This tranquility, however, did not greet him without the disheartening memories of the times he had spent there in the distant past, a past that seemed to become less and less distant every moment he thought of Itachi. Truly, his recollections were ones of feckless, extreme joy—only to become sad and dismal in the light of the events that had followed them.
So it was with a heavy sigh that he brushed his sleeve across his sweaty forehead and continued on into the tree line, his steps leading the trio along the river. He had refused Sakura's attempt to pull his arm over her shoulder. He might not be able to breathe, but he sure as hell could still walk.
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Sasuke looked on as, despite his previous insistence that no one had ever been inside the fortress before, Sakura and Sai circled quickly around the base of the structure. The sun would soon set, so their search was harried beneath the shadows and yielded little.
While they made a final round through the trees, Sasuke traced his finger along the seam of rust surrounding the door. He could burn it off, he supposed.
However, he searched his chakra reserves and found his energy low, "Tch."
"What is it, Sasuke-kun?" Sakura sidled up next to him, brows furrowed. She smelled like dust and sweat, and Sasuke imagined his scent to be much the same. Except, perhaps, mingled with blood.
"I take it the door is our only option . . ."
She nodded, "You were right; Sai and I didn't find anything. I still can't imagine something like this going undiscovered for so many years."
He shrugged, continued to peruse their one alternative for entry, "I guessed as much. Regardless, this latch is useless. We'll have to force it." His gaze turned to hers expectantly.
Almost on cue, a blush teased the tips of Sakura's ears. Did he seriously believe her strong enough to budge it? If he did, then he was right, but receiving such recognition from him was still a new breed of pleasure.
Without having to be warned, he moved back with tired steps. Sakura geared her fingers with chakra and leaned up onto the tips of her toes. She fitted her hands over the latch and around the top corner, where the metal and wood had corroded. At the first push, the door groaned and bent like a sentient thing, but it did not budge. Letting up, Sakura backed away and dabbed at her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand. She could level it off its hinges with one push, but she would rather preserve the door if she could. Once more she tried, and this time the rust gave way. It swung inwards with shriek, allowing stale air to mix with the fresh. Sakura jumped to the side to avoid the dust that rained down from above. Sasuke quickly covered his mouth.
Even from outside, they could see that the door had not even been locked.
Just then, Sai emerged from the trees behind them, "I see your brute strength has come in handy, Ugly. Between you and the traps I set along the perimeter, Traitor-kun shall be quite safe."
"Little bastard," Sasuke mumbled under his breath and, without granting the artist a single look, turned around and walked into the stronghold.
He would be the first Uchiha to traverse its halls after many long years of silence.
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"Not much here, is there?" Sakura waved the dust away from her face and shut the door to what seemed to have been a supply room at one time. So far they had only come across a hoard of rusted weaponry. Sai sorted through them in search of salvageable metal. There was not much in the way of clothing or bedding, and what little remained had been destroyed by moths.
"When I return, I will bring two or three futon," Sai nodded to himself, mentally preparing a list of the supplies needed to sustain Sasuke and Sakura's stay here. However long that may be.
The artist's even gaze flashed then to the Uchiha. Much to his irritation, he had no choice but to remain seated in the corner of the room in order to avoid the oncoming plumes of dust. His eyes closed and arms folded over his chest, he rested with his head back against the stone. He would never admit it, but his wan pallor betrayed the fact that the journey had taken a toll on him. His shoulders slouched slightly, absent of the rigidity with which he normally held himself.
Several times Sakura stopped her work so that she could come and crouch down beside him, whispering tentative questions Sai could not quite hear. Earnest worry painted every dip and slope of her visage and Sai, ever the watchful artist, did not miss a single detail. Unabashed at his curiosity, the ANBU looked on; each time he grew more and more curious at this interaction, one which he supposed he would never quite understand. It was like an unspoken pact he could not fathom, the way in which she spoke to him without hesitation. Sasuke appeared disinterested in her words, yet watched her speak with a concentration that would make an enemy quake.
When Sai returned from burying the unsalvageable weapons outside, he found that sakura had summoned a pile of blankets onto the floor. Bending down to grab one, she mumbled, "Haven't used this many since the war."
Without asking, Sai stepped forward and helped her lay them out in front of the dormant fireplace. Although winter in Konohagakure was much milder than in Kumo, they would still have to keep a fire burning in the hearth to warm the stone of this stronghold.
Sakura frowned in distaste at how little protection they provided from the wooden floor, "This will have to do . . ."
Sai nodded, all the while taking note of the dark shadows beneath Sakura's eyes, a sign of the past days' impact on her body. And he remembered reading that friends make friends smile, "I should tell Tsunade-sama about your misconduct. Not many medics make their patients sleep on the cold ground . . ."
She spun around and shoved his shoulder, chiding lazily, "Shut up, Sai."
Sure enough, however, she released a soft smile. The artist made note of this for the future and picked up a decrepit bamboo broom from the corner. He would have many splinters to tend to later.
It took several more moments of sweeping and destroying spider webs for Sai to realize that Sasuke's eyes had opened. He could not tell how long they had been thus, but wondered how he had not noticed such a scathing look trained on his back in the first place. The Uchiha remained in the same repose as earlier, form reclined against the wall and arms folded across his chest—all excepting the wary gaze that followed his every move.
"Sakura-san," Sai began, noting with a quick glance that the watchful eyes immediately narrowed, "I should be going. I can, however, delay my return if you require more help."
The kunoichi propped her hands on her hips and looked down thoughtfully at the makeshift mattress, "No, we've done enough for today, and you should probably report to Kakashi-sensei as soon as possible. Sasuke-kun can help me tomorrow, but only if he gets some rest." Her voice raised slightly at the end of her decision, for she knew Sasuke would always be listening.
"Very well, Hag. What of the rooms upstairs?"
She shrugged tiredly, "Can't imagine there's much up there, honestly."
Sai nodded.
"Here," Sakura extracted her hairpin from her disheveled mane and held it in her teeth until she managed to sweep the wayward strands back into a presentable form. She then fitted the pin back in place with practiced precision, "I'll walk you out."
Still observing silently from his corner, Sasuke watched as Sakura followed Sai outside, not unlike the matriarch of a household smoothly dismissing a guest. He smirked.
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As Sakura followed Sai around to the side of the stronghold, where his ink bird sat sheltered beneath the trees, her footsteps were almost meek. This was normally unlike her to be certain, but she was not unaware as to how indebted she was to Sai. Wringing her hands together, she idly avoided stepping on leaves. Red and brown, many littered the rich soil, a harbinger of most forest winters. Somehow, the musty smell of the earth comforted her. Sai fixed his belongings onto the back of his bird, and turned to bid her farewell.
Without a word, Sakura embraced him. She reveled in the human contact and continued to express her vast gratitude in silence. Sai had been a precious constant of strength while she tended to Sasuke, replenishing her supply of food, water, and herbs whenever she beckoned him to. Although she knew that more went on behind those deceptively calm eyes than he let people know, she was thankful that he allowed himself to be her friend and the anchor of her sanity.
In forced reciprocation, he placed a stiff arm around her back, tapped one shoulder awkwardly. Then he released her and stepped back, now all business as he usually was, "After I report to the village, should I bring other ANBU with me?"
"No, Sai," Sakura smiled sadly. "I know Kaka-sensei would tell you it's too dangerous; more reinforcements would just mean more targets to follow, and I think the fewer people are around Sasuke-kun right now, the better. Just come back alone, and be safe. Will you be able to find the shortcut from here to the village?"
The artist nodded, "I should be back soon."
"But . . . but what if you're not?"
He thought silently for a few seconds, "Watch for my arrival in two days' time. Three at the most. If I have not returned by then, something has happened, and you and Sasuke must not venture out of the area until Kakashi-senpai contacts you."
By the time Sakura returned to the main room of the stronghold, Sasuke was gone.
His absence met her with an initial barrage of panic—more due to instinct than otherwise, but she managed to calm her herself enough to leave the fortress and circle around to the side opposite of Sai's departure. There, she saw him following the river upstream. He walked slowly. His steps looked almost hypnotic.
Without a word, Sakura broke into a leisurely jog and soon reached his side.
Sasuke had always enjoyed walking. Furthermore, there was no doubt in Sakura's mind that the calm climate of their homeland would benefit his health. They wandered side by side, the casual nature of this pastime strange to Sakura at first, but they eventually fell into a companionable silence.
Until then, the tension had remained unbearably stagnant between them—to Sakura, at least. Though she considered herself well-acquainted with the nuances of his nonverbal cues, it was still difficult to decipher Sasuke's thoughts on these matters when he left them unspoken, which was most of the time.
It was obvious by the surety of his footsteps that he knew this path. At times his gaze would flicker to a certain bend in the current, a broken limb on a tree they approached.
Finally, Sakura broke the lull, "Do you feel very tired?"
He shook his head, eyes fixed firmly on something in the distance. When he spoke, his words had nothing to do with her question.
"The sun will set soon."
Emotions confused but steeped pleasantly in the mere pleasure of his presence, Sakura followed his lead through the trees. It was leisurely, almost mechanical, the way he moved. He had always been that way—mechanical and set in his ways—but this relative ease was something the kunoichi had rarely seen in him before.
When they reached the top of a seemingly nondescript hill he paused, looked out at the sky. For the first time in years, he enjoyed the sun on his face. In that moment, he remembered an observation Itachi had made all those years ago, that the sun always seems to shine its brightest just before it descends for the day, the final breath before plunging into the ocean, one final gaze at the sky before descending into the dark.
Sasuke wondered, not for the first time, how long it had taken Itachi to realize he was both sick and losing his eyesight. He did not want to consider the possibility that he had already known of these things as early on as he feared.
Next to him, Sakura felt moisture prick the corners of her eyes and told herself that it was just the humidity.
He looked so young in the light.
And yet he was young. It was just difficult to remember when so much of his life had been eclipsed by hatred, obsession, and regret. And now physical sickness, as if his body needed to deteriorate as much as his emotional state already had. This was all only fanciful supposition, of course, the odd meandering of a medic with too much personal investment in her patient. But, given their past and the notorious emotional instability of his entire clan, Sakura could not help but think that this may not be completely false. For generations, the Uchiha had long associated the activation of their prized bloodline to some form of emotional duress, each unique level contracted in partnership to a certain escalation of agony, whether that agony was physical or emotional.
Stress. Fear. The bodily ripping of that very organ from its socket.
And more traumatic than even these: the death of one most beloved. No wonder the elders' experimental use of the Sharingan was such an unforgivable abomination to Sasuke. Furthermore, could his illness be another manifestation of his clan's curse?
Probably not. The kunoichi felt like she was grasping for snow wisps in the wind, seeing evidence where there was none because the not knowing killed her.
Nevertheless, no option was inadmissible at this point. Not if it could help Sasuke to survive.
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Sasuke breathed in as deeply as he could, then exhaled slowly under Sakura's encouragement.
"Alright," Sakura furrowed her brow and passed her chakra through the passageways of his lungs once more, "I think I healed them all," satisfied, she sat back and tucked her bare feet beneath her bottom. "There was more blood than there was yesterday . . ."
That last line Sasuke knew she had uttered to herself. She was looking down at her hand, running her fingers absently over the amassed blankets beneath them. Neither the consternate worry in her eyes nor the gnawing of her bottom lip escaped unnoticed by him. Sasuke was a genius, but he did not need to be one to realize that he was not getting any better. He did feel better and his body seemed to have more energy, but he knew this was only because of the frequent healing sessions. If he did not take the time to rest or seek her healing, his progress would decline rapidly.
With this in mind, Sasuke began to observe Sakura more closely. Warmth from the fireplace swarmed around them. The flames lit up everything with a pleasant glow. Aside from the worry currently dominating Sakura's countenance, she looked nearly as exhausted as he felt. The words came before he could even consider her wellbeing further.
"Go to sleep, Sakura."
Her eyes flashed sideways to meet his, wide and so very tired, "Oh . . . it is late, isn't it? I suppose you're right, Sasuke-kun. You must as well, of course."
He remained silent for a moment, as if examining his own energy, before nodding slowly, "Aa."
He looked on as she shuffled over to the far side of their makeshift cot, a slight redness coloring her cheeks. When she settled onto her side and glanced expectantly over her shoulder, it was gone.
He reclined back without a word. Part of his leg happened to touch the wooden floor, so he turned onto his side as well. It was much easier for him to breathe in this position, anyway. He pulled his blanket up to his shoulders. It smelled like fresh soap.
"Good night, Sasuke-kun."
He opened his eyes and saw that Sakura had turned onto her other side and now lay facing him. Her blanket was noticeably thinner than his own, but his eyelids were already falling, so he allowed her this one selfless victory. The distance between their resting forms was significant, but he could feel her just as close as if she were breathing against his shoulder. It was strangely easy to let her breathing and the crackling fire lull him to sleep.
After dining on rations the next morning, they conducted another healing session in silence, and then began exploring the rest of the fortress.
The main room with the old fireplace proved to be the largest throughout the stronghold. It opened into both the entrance hall and three different rooms. Only one of those doors yielded easily, its wood riddled with rot, and opened into a room that proved to be the most perplexing dwelling of them all.
An eerie silence swam around them as they circled the room, the kind of silence that is all the more misplaced when it covers an area that should instead be thrumming with noise and movement. Only glass shards made any sound as they snapped and cracked beneath shinobi boots.
Sasuke picked up a broken flask from the center table, "These are old issue. Modern medics no longer use this equipment."
Sakura nodded, running her fingers over a stack of dusty formula ledgers, "I've never even heard of some of these things before. . . . It's like they were developed outside of all the modern techniques we use now. It's strange . . . and all the way out here too. . ."
This did prove to be exceedingly interesting. Although the Uchiha clan had always been known for the prodigious intellect and dangerous skill of its members, they had never been specifically recognized for developments in shinobi medicine. Not, at least, to the extent that the Nara clan was.
But this place, this stronghold, seemed to have revolved around it. It spoke of obsession.
More than half of the fortress' nine rooms—the ones they had been able to open—contained a small research station. Walls stood lined with cases of medical books, some outdated, some timeless, and some, which Sakura admitted with breathy wonder, that she had never seen before.
Neither had Sasuke ever seen Uchiha property that was more populated by medical tools than battle weaponry. Everything here hinted that this was a haven for a group of conferencing med-nin. And yet a faded, red and white uchiwa fan graced the front of the dilapidated gateway outside.
What could have possibly been their purpose here? And where did they go?
It took Sasuke and Sakura two days to clean up the stronghold. They worked leisurely, both to make this place habitable and to pass the time, for Sakura knew Sasuke always had too much on his mind. He never stopped for repose. Never.
But she could at least try to convince him, and she interrupted their work many times to insist upon a healing session or if she thought the air too dusty or infested with mold for Sasuke to breathe in safely. Eventually they both tied cloths around their mouths.
Aside from these setbacks, the mild exertion seemed to do well by Sasuke's health. It gave him the chance to steadily rebuild muscle and distract him from the guilt and self-reproach that Sakura knew he still carried with him despite their confrontation at the inn. They decided, however, not to repair anything unnecessary to their current survival and comfort, with the exception of the door and the main gate that connected to the large wall surrounding the property. Sakura knocked several choice blocks out of the eastern-most wall, which gave them a small window in the main room.
Sasuke followed Sakura down the hallway after they finished. She was chattering happily about their progress, pulling down the cloth that covered her head and readjusting her hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. When he turned to inspect it, he found that it was only water. He tilted his head back to find the source, which proved to be a lone crack in the ceiling. The water seeped from the small crack and followed the wall all the way down to the floor.
Strange . . .
They were on the first level of the stronghold, and although it had rained earlier that morning, there had been no other leaks in the ceiling. Determined to investigate the structure of the building when his energy returned, Sasuke joined Sakura in the main room.
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The continued proximity between them—rather, a distinct lack thereof—was steadily fraying the edges of Sakura's sanity. They lived so close together, suspended in a quaking paradox of comfort and restlessness. Sakura knew not what Sasuke thought about it, just that she loved being near him. But then she would turn around, find his tired eyes fixated on her, and immediately disdained the dizziness that crept up and choked her senses.
This happened more and more often. And yet, each time it did, the ensuing silence just served to perplex her further. It was the emotional distance, the fact that it remained intact despite any physical closeness, that ached so badly. It filled her with an anxiety upon waking every morning and with a sinking hopelessness before she fell asleep in the early evening.
Not for the first time, she struggled with insomnia. Restlessness was not adequate in the least to describe the pacing of her mind as she turned over again on the worn blankets. This restlessness was nothing new, but it was somehow different this time; she was more aware of him than ever, and the mere thought that he lay so close to her made her toes curl and her heart race erratically. It was difficult to relate this proximity to the physical distance they had maintained before; the emotional distance, however, remained consistent. And that was the most infuriating aspect of all.
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Sasuke slept a lot. When he was awake, however, he found himself capable of walking around at his leisure. He could feel his strength returning steadily, could feel the burden in his lungs lightening until he discovered a certain freedom in his breathing every morning. But by no means was he under any delusions that he was cured—or even getting better in the permanent sense—and so he retained a certain kind of bitter morbidity in his aura. Only to himself did he direct this bitterness, however; no longer did he feel the need to also wrap Sakura inside its clutches, not since that night at the inn when she had seen him at his worst. There was nothing left to hide from her. He could no longer find the will to punish her for caring.
She cast enough blame and anger on herself whenever she began his daily evening treatment and, yet again, found that more of the mysterious chakra had emerged during the day, severed more tiny lesions in the tissue, and caused blood to begin pooling in his lungs.
That was when she was forced to increase the treatment to twice a day.
Then three, then four times.
"Ow . . ."
Naruto clambered behind the nearest tree. He rubbed incredulously at his sore shoulder, glancing out from the trunk in search of any flash of a green jumpsuit.
Lee had challenged him to a taijutsu-only spar and, seeing as agonizing over Sasuke and Sakura's whereabouts had gotten him kicked out of his own office by the overly diligent Copy-ninja, Naruto had readily accepted.
It was hard sometimes—fine, most of the time—to separate personal and professional Hokage matters, especially when they tended to coincide. More often than not, this seemed to be the case from the very moment he became Hokage. For this reason it was nice to step away and spar with a good friend.
But, damn it all, Lee was killing him. Granted, he was distracted and had not relied on taijutsu alone in a very long time, but there was nothing like a weight-laden leg to the jugular to hurt a man's ego.
"Uh, Lee?" Naruto peeked around the tree trunk, realizing that too much time had passed without any sign of his overzealous opponent. When he listened more closely, however, he heard what sounded like Lee's voice coming from the clearing. He was speaking to someone.
Naruto rushed out from behind the tree and towards the open grounds.
"Yes, we were sparring. He still seemed distracted, but I'm sure he is only stressed out, Kakashi-sensei."
"Indeed. However, he has done far better than I expected. All the villages have agreed to cooperate with us concerning Sasuke and Sakura, should they be apprehended. I'm certain they would not have agreed so readily to ignore the rogue status assigned to Sasuke by the elders if Tsunade-sama had remained the one at the helm. He's not the most eloquent speaker, but he's convincing. All the Kage greatly respect him."
"Not that I'm not enjoying your praise, Kakashi-sensei, but what's going on?"
Both Lee and Kakashi turned, surprised to see Naruto standing at the edge of the clearing with a grin beaming from ear to ear.
"Naruto," Kakashi greeted with a pleasant eye crease. He normally forewent the honorific when he was in a good mood, "Sai just returned this morning."
Blue eyes widened, "Well? Is it good news? Why the hell didn't anyone tell me sooner?"
"He said he wished to speak to Tsunade first. Something about Sakura saying it was urgent."
"Sakura-chan?" his eyes brightened at the thought of his two teammates. "What are you standing there for, sensei? Let's get back to the tower. Sorry, Lee, but duty calls. See you around."
By the time the jinchuuriki had finished speaking, he was already storming across the training grounds and towards Hokage tower. Behind him, Lee beamed with enthusiasm, "I admire your dedication, Naruto-kun. But we must continue this spar at your very next convenience!"
However, a tiny portion of sadness tinged Lee's otherwise brilliant mood at the mention of Sakura's name. He dearly hoped she was not in danger. His heavy brows furrowed beneath the weight of his concern. The war had taken so many lives already, but it seemed that no one could ever be completely safe, peacetime or not.
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Naruto sunk down into his chair. The Hokage coat fell around him like red-rimmed, windless sails.
"Dying?"
His voice shook—tenuous, on the verge of breaking—with tears, shock, perhaps both.
Behind him, Kakashi continued to gaze down at the crowded streets through the tower's panoramic window. He had assumed Sai's news from Sakura must have been bad if the stoic ANBU himself had deigned to call it "urgent." Nevertheless, he thought it would pertain to the elder's activities or trouble with the bounty hunters, not . . . this. The Copy-ninja thought immediately of Itachi's health. By the sound of Sai's description, the symptoms were the same; where Kakashi's mind instantaneously made this connection, however, Naruto still trembled in silent denial.
His hands were shaking atop the Hokage desk, so he clasped them together to ease them. Blue eyes that were rapidly growing moist closed.
Eyes downturned, Shizune crept outside at Tsunade's insistence that she gather Sakura's medical books in preparation for Sai's journey back.
Everyone else in the room stayed silent. Even Tsunade, who had just been furiously questioning Sai on the medical technicalities mere seconds ago, morosely watched the face of her young successor. She searched for words of both comfort and warning, but their Hokage was already opening his eyes.
And when he spoke, it was not with the desperate anger and frustration they expected of him.
"I think, Kakashi-sensei, that we should go ahead with setting up our base camp sooner than we planned. Sakura and Sasuke shouldn't have to worry about all this crap with the elders, especially when . . ." he swallowed, assertive confidence failing momentarily, and reached for his stack of mission papers. "So, how many ANBU will Yamato-taichou need? A hundred? Five hundred?"
Everyone in the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh, relieved when Naruto's signature determination reared its shining head.
"I believe twenty will suffice, Naruto-sama," Kakashi nodded, looking over Naruto's shoulder as he assigned the allotted number of shinobi under Yamato's name. His hand struggled at brief times to hold the pen, but he finally signed his signature with bold flourish.
"Good," Naruto tapped his pen thoughtfully against his bottom lip. "We'll also widen the ANBU patrols to make sure no one goes near that fort—er, place."
Kakashi smiled fondly beneath his mask. He knew how hard this must be for Naruto. For many years Naruto had been the primary catalyst wholly determined to bring Sasuke back to the village, to save him from the self-destruction of his hatred.
But now, Sasuke faced something that Naruto could do absolutely nothing to fend off directly. Naruto was many admirable things: a powerful ninja, a dedicated friend, a leader.
But what he was not was a healer.
He was not a medic.
And Haruno Sakura was.
.
.
.
"Alright," Kakashi nodded at Sai, "you will bring back their supplies, but you must return here as soon as possible. Naruto is sending you to join Tenzou and the twenty ANBU, who will begin organization of our basecamp near the elders' hideout."
Sai bowed solemnly, then left to meet up with Shizune outside Sakura's home. Sakura would kill him if he forgot to bring her medical journals. Much to his surprise, however, Kakashi followed him outside the Hokage tower and drew him aside once they reached the street.
"Sai, I did not wish to say this in front of Naruto," his gaze was as stern as it ever could be. "You are, under no circumstances, allowed to reveal to Sasuke the location of his brother's body. This means that telling Sakura is also out of the question. They are back in Konohagakure to improve his health, not to facilitate a rampage."
Sai nodded, "Understood, senpai."
Early the next morning chakra flared from outside the stronghold.
The signature was reasonably minimal, but still pronounced enough to alert anyone within a proximity as close as theirs.
"Your ANBU is back," Sasuke muttered. He sounded less than pleased. Sakura frowned at him from across the room. Ignoring her, he lifted one end of the curtains and eyed Sai as he dismounted his bird and started unloading supplies.
Sakura jumped up from her mortar and pestle and stormed for the door, "I'll kill him if he didn't bring my books . . ."
Her words seemed threatening, but her mouth sported a bright grin. Sasuke watched her go with a sigh. He may have ignored her glare, but the sallowness of her cheeks had not gone unnoticed under his observant perception. Neither had the eagerness of her smile. After standing indecisively by the window for several seconds, he strode towards the door, mindful of his heartrate and breathing.
A sinking irritation settled in his stomach, but he stifled it with practiced ease. Somehow he knew that he would have to endure it the entire time Sai was here. Sasuke also knew that he had no qualms with the artist personally, so he would just have to remind himself of that when that confrontational urge returned. He had gotten used to traveling and living alone with Sakura, and that complacency seemed to make Sai's arrivals more and more difficult to endure.
"Give me the futon."
Sai turned around, surprised to hear Sasuke's voice. He had not even heard the Uchiha's approach. He was unsure how to display his shock that someone had been able to sneak up on him, for not many could boast of doing so. Finally, he offered only a blithe smile.
"Very well, Sasuke," Sai did not bother to ask Sakura if the other male should be lifting anything, and promptly deposited two rolled futon onto Sasuke's outstretched arms. His smile widened and he followed Sakura inside, his arms laden with food.
After bringing all the supplies inside, the three shared a late midday meal in front of the fireplace. Having finished first, Sakura immediately took to reading one of her books on chakra and the respiratory system. Sasuke barely ate. He spent most of the time with his back to the warm hearth, watching with intense eyes as Sai and Sakura conversed. That same sinking feeling returned, this time in his chest, as Sasuke recalled that declaration he had heard Sakura utter to the ANBU back at the inn.
It was difficult to ignore the glimmer in her eyes because he had not seen her smile like that in days. She would glance between Sai and her book, listening eagerly as he entailed his visit to the village, how their friends were faring back home, and Naruto's reaction to Sasuke's sickness. A sheen of unshed tears blurred the bright jade in her eyes as he spoke. Her sad smile only served to make that look in her eyes all the more damaging.
Sasuke tore his focus from her face and looked vacantly down at his untouched food. He felt a distinct hollowness within that hunger alone could not account for.
What was she even doing here? And why the hell did he let her stay?
Not for the first time, he loathed the situation they were both arrested in. It felt like he was punishing her by letting her stay, by not insisting more forcefully that she go home. And she was punishing him in turn by letting him know that this whole situation did not bother her one damned bit. Why was he letting her do this to him?
He could give her nothing. She could have no home with him. And yet, through no voluntary act on his own part, he had still somehow managed to chain her fate with his own.
And when he finally did die, then what?
Suffering a sideways glance in the Uchiha's direction, Sai spoke, "I should be leaving soon, Sakura, if you have no further need for my help. I wish to reach Yamato-taichou well before nightfall."
Setting her book aside, Sakura frowned—it was almost a pout—and wrung her fingers together, "Do you have to leave so soon?"
"Yes," Sai murmured slowly. His body tensed as he considered what he should and should not reveal about Yamato's work in the forest a mere hours' travel away, "Naruto is planning to organize a seizure of the Council and the remaining ROOT soldiers. Kakashi-senpai wishes for me to help."
"Where are they?"
Sai frowned at Sasuke, matching his glare with his own, "I am not at liberty to reveal it to you."
And just like that, the comfortable atmosphere shattered around them to be replaced by a familiar tension. Sakura held her breath.
Sai spoke firmly. He sounded as if he was reciting a mission scroll. Sakura mused that he might very well be, "Patience and secrecy are necessary to reduce casualties—"
"Bullshit," Sasuke snapped.
Sai continued unfazed, "Your health should be your priority, not revenge."
Sakura glanced nervously at the Kusanagi leaning against the wall near Sasuke, prepared to intervene should Sasuke's hand move any closer to its hilt, "Sasuke-kun, calm down. Sai," she turned to her teammate with a warning burning in her eyes, "I think you should go."
Only she knew that Sasuke was more concerned with the state of his brother's body than with killing the elders. Nevertheless, she did not want to risk the chance that he would harm the ex-Council if given the opportunity. And the last thing she needed was for Sai to anger Sasuke further, and she would lose her own temper if this continued. Lips pursed, Sai nodded. She practically pushed him out the door, grumbling beneath her breath and feeling as if she had just evaded a catastrophe. However, she knew that this conversation would return to the forefront if Sasuke had anything to do with it, whether Sai was present for it or not.
She waved at Sai as he retrieved his sketch pad. With a flourish, he painted a new bird, performed the appropriate seals, and breathed it to life in the afternoon sun.
"Stay safe."
Sai looked down at her as his bird began to rise into the sky. It seemed she held no grudge against his loyalties. After all, good teammates share their loyalties. He smiled, "You too, Ugly."
She watched him soar higher and higher until she could no longer see him beyond the tree line. When Sakura had met him years ago, she never imagined how important he would become to her, how much she would come to rely on his loyalty and his conscience as her close comrade.
She repeated herself, her voice little but gust stealing away with the surrounding, stronger winds.
"Be safe."
Back inside, Sasuke stood in front of the fireplace, glaring into the dwindling flames. He did not move for several moments, but then a slight cough shook his shoulders. He suppressed it well, but the sickening choke and gurgle still reached her ears. Sakura's eyes shut in sorrow. Her face turned towards the ground.
She had just finished healing him earlier that morning.
Never before had she felt more discouraged. Perhaps it was because nothing so important had been in jeopardy before.
Seeming to sense her misery, he moved towards the wood pile and threw several branches into the fireplace; the flames crackled and expanded, reaching higher and higher until the warm glow chased the darkness away. Evening was fast approaching.
Finally, Sasuke spared her a glance from over his shoulder. One look at her tired form was all it took for him to determine that it was time to sleep, "I'll lay out the futon."
Her head snapped back up in surprise. Eyes wide in response to his offer, she blushed, "I'll help."
Sasuke arranged the futon on the floor while Sakura snapped the wrinkles out of their blankets. It would be nice to have more fabric to cover over with now that they had actual mattresses to protect them from the cold floor. When she turned back around, she discovered that Sasuke had pushed the two futon right next to each other. Without even acknowledging the red in her cheeks, he took the blankets from her hand and began spreading them out.
"Um—we . . ." this was ridiculous. How could he still have her stuttering after all this time? "Alright. Good thinking, Sasuke-kun."
She had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but getting to sleep so close to Sasuke needed no rationalization.
Although both were tired, the early evening hours did not let them find sleep easily. Almost an hour of silence passed as they lay there in the light of the fireplace. Sasuke's mind, as usual, kept him alert and tense.
Frustrated, he turned onto his side. His glare fell upon Sakura's hand, which lay, palm facing the ceiling, fingers weakly splayed just as they had first fallen, atop the cushion of their bedding. His hair clip—her hair clip—sat next to her hand, just beyond her fingertips. An unidentifiable curiosity caused Sasuke to trail his gaze up her arm and along her neck. Her loose hair spanned in rosette rays about her head.
Further irritated, the Uchiha narrowed his already heated gaze. Her hand was so tiny.
Having reached the last threshold of his patience, he reached out and nudged his own hand against hers. Through the darkness, he deadpanned, "Asleep?"
Several seconds passed before she answered. Each one further tested his fortitude.
"No," she murmured, her bleary exhaustion laden over every word.
But when Sasuke sought out her face, he discovered a sleepy but content smile. Just then he yielded to all the irritation that had mounted the entire evening, and his mouth was moving before his mind could commandeer the reigns; normally, this only happened when he was overcome with rage, but she had always unknowingly toyed with his temperament in ways he was not used to. "Why bother with the healing?" and he forged on before she could open either her eyes or mouth in preparation to refute every bitter implication. "There is no guarantee these treatments will succeed. What is it you wish to gain from this?"
By this time Sakura had also turned onto her side. She watched him now, eyes tracing a beryl path back and forth across his visage. She saw the darkened shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes. The angular, patrician features of a proud ancestry, every slope and plane further enhanced by firelight. She sighed, "What I want? That seems like such a silly thing to ask, Sasuke-kun."
Much to her disappointment, Sasuke did not speak again. He merely remained stretched out on his side, head resting on his outstretched forearm, and with the firelight reflecting black in his eyes as he continued to watch her.
Sakura shivered.
It was as if he was coaxing her to continue without even saying another word. That aspect, at least, was another that had remained the same from their childhood and into the present.
"What I want? . . . I want you to get better," embarrassed, she flicked her gaze down to the edge of her blanket and played idly with the frayed fabric there. "If you could only get better, there's nothing else I'd ask for myself . . . even my own life—if you could just be able to live instead . . ."
"Tch."
Sakura burrowed her cheek further into the bedding, mortified by her outburst.
Sasuke sighed. He ran a heavy hand down his face. He had not even noticed the cold sweat that had broken out on his heated skin, "Don't be a fool, Sakura."
"But I'm not," she pulled the sheets up to cover her shoulders. She had developed chills all of a sudden. "You asked me a question and I answered. I won't apologize."
.
.
.
A woman knelt over his body. Small shoulders quaked in the silence.
But he was not looking up at her, at least not from within his own physical body. He dwelled somewhere apart from himself, peering out from the trees in the distance with stunted breath.
A brown cloak draped the woman's slight form, heavy as a blanket. A large hood hid her face. The wood towered grey and imposing around her. Fog creeped and billowed along the dirt. It was freezing, yet there was no snow; the branches overhead wore green. He could not tell whether it was evening or morning. And when he crept closer, she did not move. But the shivering commenced and the more she shook, the more still his body remained before her. Suddenly, the quaking increased and she cried out, a low, mournful wail that soared with increasing sorrow as it climbed to a higher pitch. It rent through the forest like the singing of a swung blade.
His ears rang, even long after her cry faded into nothingness. So loud it was, that he nearly missed the sound of wings flapping. A bird, little more than a dark blur, soared through the trees, disappeared, then circled back. It landed and perched itself almost primly on the woman's shoulder. But she paid the raven no mind, just gazed down despondent at his unmoving body. Her hood still covered her face from his view.
He noticed that she had gone completely still. Her shoulders no longer shook.
A small hand—one, he could not help but notice, that had been resting in his hair—moved into the folds of her cloak.
When it reemerged, white-knuckled, it clutched a kunai. The woman shook again. Her head bowed lower, until the hem of her hood nearly grazed his body.
Panicking, he rushed forward, but she had already wrenched the blade across her neck. A spray of blood fell across his body.
Then the raven extended its wingspan over her fallen form, sweeping up dust like a cape of death in unfurl. Its frighteningly sentient gaze met his, as if in disapproval, and it soared up through the trees, vanishing from sight.
.
.
.
Sasuke knew he was in trouble before his eyes even opened.
Raw coughs wrenched from his chest, forcing his back to jackknife up from the futon with each painful hack. Sweat pooled atop his skin, but the uncomfortable heat was nothing compared to the pain.
But then her hands were there, one swiping the hair back from his sticky forehead, and the other channeling chakra through his chest and into his lungs.
"Sakura . . ."
"Shh. Don't talk."
Outside, nighttime still reigned. The minutes creeped by, accompanied by crickets' chirping and the gliding of Konohagakure's winds across the stone walls. It was a mixture of sounds Sasuke had not heard in so long. Somehow, it was peaceful. Even more peaceful was Sakura's presence, the cooling comfort of her touch, the soft pattern of her breathing just above him. He had not had to face another coughing fit since that time at the inn in Kumo.
Furthermore, the dream thrummed just beyond his consciousness. He did not wish to think about it, did not want to decipher it.
Once the pain receded and breathing came more easily, Sasuke finally opened his eyes. Sakura was the first thing he saw.
She was obviously distraught, fighting desperately against herself to keep from crying. Now that the healing was finished, she found it difficult to remain professional.
He must look terrible.
At the back of his mind, Sasuke felt a tick of annoyance invading with irritating stealth. He had seen her on the brink of tears many times since the war—it was her way, after all, to bare her heart on her fists—yet it remained a far cry from the naïve sensitivity of her younger days. She had become resilient, and he admired it. She had grown dedicated, and he too admired that. Through new eyes, he saw her. He had long glowered out at the world through a shroud of sardonic cynicism, believing that it had nothing to offer him, nothing of worth, except the promise of power.
But that veil would darken his vision no more. He was beyond jaded, yes. Seeing her, however, reminded him that even if he felt there was no reason to pursue a future without the familiar lull of self-appointed goals, then he would have to find a reason. That was why he was laying here, allowing this kunoichi to chase down and maul whatever would give him that chance, the chance to find that reason to move on. It was an opportunity he had long abandoned in the desolate dark of a dungeon cell, where his fatigue had grown worse, stunted his healing. And when his failing lungs had expelled that first mouthful of blood a mere two weeks into his captivity . . . it was then that he had resigned himself to an avenger's peril. To fulfill one final goal as he never had before—to bring his brother the honor he deserved. After all this time.
Only then would he allow his body to succumb, to bow in defeat to the same affliction that took his brother.
There. There it was. He had finally admitted it to himself, the answer to the inner conflict he had been fighting against since Itachi's final farewell.
But what did it matter? Now, in the scheme of his breaking will, of his eroding body?
He was dying.
Suddenly, another coughing took him, wracking his frail body until, at last, he fell back again, exhausted. Uchiha Sasuke was under no illusion that he was not responsible for Itachi's death. Despite what Sakura said, he knew that he had hastened the death of that young man who, already dying but always fighting, thought of his little brother—foolish little brother, indeed—until the end. An end that came far too soon. Even now, emotion tightened Sasuke's throat that the thought. It felt like tears. That was how Sakura felt at that very same moment.
He felt little hands grasp his shoulders, and then she was shaking him, "Living is worth it, Sasuke-kun. Why am I always the one asking you to stay?"
Ebony eyes opened lazily. A bowed crown of mussed rosette met them, for Sakura was hiding her face quite steadfastly—stubbornly, rather. Very, very stubborn.
When she did tilt her gaze up to his, he found her eyes gleaming with tears. She sniffled, unwilling to shed them. Somehow, her voice ached with even more sorrow than if she did cry, "But if you don't stay with me this time . . . you won't ever have a chance to come back."
Her words stole his breath. Nevertheless, a sad smirk pulled wanly at the corner of Sasuke's mouth, and he looked on in silence as she perused his insides once more with healing chakra, brow furrowed, teeth worrying her bottom lip.
She was so very capable, he decided. She was capable and she was strong and she amazed him.
Once her teeth released her lip, her mouth set into a morose frown. Acute, that prodding annoyance returned to Sasuke's mind. His hand was reaching for her arm before he could comprehend his actions. When she refused to withdraw her chakra from his chest, refused to look at him, Sasuke lightened his grip, though it had been gentle to begin with, and allowed it to fall deftly back to his side.
"Sakura," he drawled.
And that was it. He said her name—that was all—and the tears she had been barricading spilled from her eyes.
"Tch," sighing, Sasuke placed his hand over hers, this time giving her no other choice but to withdraw the chakra, "Sakura. You should not have to cry. It is not your place to worry over me. I never asked you to."
Her gaze finally snapped up to meet his. Her skin tingled pleasantly under his familiar calluses, but his words were too startling to allow her to enjoy it. She croaked incredulously, voice raw with pain, "Not cry? Not cry? How can you tell me that when you . . . when you're . . ."
In an act of desperate sorrow she had not done since childhood, she threw her arms around him, sobbed without abandon into his neck, yet, forever a medic, she made careful pains to avoid his chest. And when she felt one of his weak arms encircle her, she could only bite at her lip again to keep the tears from returning.
Weakened by the healing session, Sasuke closed his eyes. He coughed a little, shaking them both.
He exhaled softly against her ear, "Annoying."
A thin trail of warm, dark blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. It seared like fire against her skin.
The current carried the soap bubbles rapidly downstream, churning them between boulders and leaves that had fallen from overhead. Standing idly in the shallow part of the river, Sakura watched them go.
Winter approached, drawing nearer and nearer. Soon she would have to heat water inside for bathing; Sasuke already did so, for she would swear to slit her own throat before letting him use such frigid water to bathe. Still, winter in Konohagakure was much warmer than even an autumn spent in Kumogakure. It was also unlikely that they would see snow this year.
Her naked body shivered in the crisp air, rosette hair sticking to the sides of her face and neck. She clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth. Gooseflesh assailed her. Her nipples hardened in the chill, and she drew an arm over her breasts in an act of redundant modesty. After all, no one watched her except the wind as it navigated its thousand paths through the branches overhead.
Sighing, the kunoichi crouched down. In the calmer parts of the stream she could almost make out her reflection; however, she felt no loss. It was for the best that she not see the shadows and worry lines that would most likely greet her.
There, in the muddled image, she caught a glimpse of her mouth. Her hand flew to her lips, chilling them after being immersed so long in the water. Heated breath panted out from between the flesh as a memory assaulted her. But the memory was too vague and, despite herself, she grew frustrated that she could not recall it clearer, could not sweep back the gravity and grief that clouded it.
How had his lips felt? She mourned that she could not remember. It had been buried beneath all the desperation of that night at the inn in Lightning, and neither had acknowledged it since.
She had been an utter fool to venture such intimate contact, especially when his health was in question. She had been stupid. She could have lost his trust. She could have tempted his anger. She had risked everything.
She wanted to do it again.
But that was out of the question. The first time she had done it without thought or calculation. If she did it again . . . it would be with too much intent, an offering of sorts. And when one offers anything, one risks refusal. Risks rejection.
No, she decided. She raked her hands across the water. Her image vanished from its surface.
She would have to content herself with those few memories, hazy and unfulfilling as they were. Besides, Sakura doubted it had caused Sasuke any more anguish than an inconvenient stone in a wanderer's path. At that thought, depression crashed down upon her with cold severity. Her soul ached to consider that perhaps that was all she herself could ever be in his mind.
Finally, her thoughts halted. She had been trying to avoid how awful the previous night had been, that wild look in his eyes when he woke up from his nightmare, which he had outright refused to speak with her about. She could never get used to seeing him bleed. Never.
And so, after much idle consideration, she made her decision.
.
.
.
Sasuke gazed transfixed into the hearth. Only darkness poured in from their makeshift window, leaving the fireplace as the sole source of light. Nevertheless, the dim, dancing glow was serene.
And then there was the silence.
Sasuke used to hate the silence, for it allowed his thoughts and regret to reign freely in his ears. Like a drone of mourning and wordless whispers. But now, for the meantime, it meant relative peace.
Sighing, a sign of his good mood, Sasuke looked to the side and beheld his teammate. He was intrigued. Something rarely observed in the last Uchiha, if ever.
Sakura sat before the fireplace, hunched over a pile of filmy fabric in absolute concentration. Small fingers manipulated dainty stitches into the cotton as Sakura transformed the navy folds into makeshift curtains. Her hands moved so delicately—those same hands that had forcibly wrenched wood and stone out of the east wall so that they could have at least one window for ventilation and sunlight. And now she sat there before him, sewing curtains.
Suddenly she stopped, for what Sasuke noticed must have been the fifth time, and brushed her hair out of her face.
She scrunched her nose in irritation. When she noticed him watching, her hand stilled against reddening cheeks, "I . . . um . . . I took my hair clip out when I bathed this morning."
Sasuke hesitated before nodding slightly, wondering why she felt the need to explain herself to him just because he looked at her with inquisitiveness. And why, for some reason, a deeper, more visceral part of his nature reveled in it: the subtle flush brightening her skin from face to chest, the anxious desire in her eyes to answer whatever question his own eyes betrayed to her keen detection of his mannerisms.
"Sasuke-kun," she inhaled deeply. Once he heard it, Sasuke knew she had been agonizing over something all day and was just now about to broach the issue with him.
Half-expecting an argument, he deadpanned, "What is it, Sakura?"
"I . . . I want you to let me teach you how to heal yourself."
His brow furrowed. He had not expected such a proposition.
Mistaking his silence for displeasure, she backtracked quickly, "It's not that I don't like healing you myself. It's just that, if something should happen, and you need help in between your treatments, it would be . . . useful . . ."
Her words trailed off lamely. Sasuke, however, could tell that it was worry hindering her words, not meekness. After all, she was his medic, his only medic. If something bothered her, then he determined that he should be disconcerted by it also.
"Very well."
"Huh?"
"I said," he murmured softly, "fine."
A brilliant smile, brighter than the one he had seen her give to Sai, lit her entire countenance, "Excellent. We'll start this week."
Inwardly, Sasuke basked in satisfaction over that fragile smile. He had done well.
A/N:
I'm sorry I worried so many of you with the last chapter, and then didn't update for months. Once again, thank you so much for all of your feedback and reviews; I read every single one.
I hope you weren't too disappointed that this chapter had no big fights or interesting reveals, just a lot of tentative bonding. Please tell me what you thought. The next chapter: "Journal of the Forsaken."
By the way, I have written a new SasuSaku story called Reign of Red. The first chapter is up and ready for your eyes.
Please, do review!