Amaryllis
Chapter 25: Yearling
This section of the book, Lady Sakura, contains pages from Queen Kaguya's diary. You …you should read them.
Her fingers felt stiff- like her blood had gathered there. Leaving nothing in her brain. Nothing but her hollow thoughts rattling inside of a dried up coconut.
"I...uh...well..."
Sakura prided herself for rarely being at a loss for words. Articulation had always been one of her strengths. But now, there was no speech, no war hero to quote. Only...
"Perhaps some moon tea? And some time to think?" suggested Haku. He appeared over the pages. Instead of peering up at her, he was stooping to meet her gaze. It unsettled her for a moment- the sharpened lines of his face. But then she recognized his eyes, how gentle they were. How his eyelashes fanned across his lids like so many palm fronds tangling together.
Drawing in a deep breath, she forced a smile onto her lips. He returned the expression, a little unsure. But as Haku studied her face, his smile faded.
"I'll get some tea," he said, nodding to himself. Sakura stopped him with a light hand on his chest.
"You're a guest here. Zetsu will take care of me," Sakura said. Haku pulled his mouth down.
"But I want to be of use to you," he insisted.
Even though she smiled, Sakura couldn't help but feel a twinge of pain in her chest. She had forgotten how fragile he was- like a hummingbird. All delicate bones and soft fluttering. How he gaped at her like all the stars in the sky gathered in her breaths.
How much it hurt her when he looked at her that way.
Sakura caught Zabuza's gaze over Haku's shoulder. He was both there and not there in his silence. But when he stared into her, Sakura understood how much her absence had hurt him in turn.
Sakura's gaze returned to Haku. She set the book on the narrow table beside them.
"Oh, Haku," she sighed. Reaching out, she cupped his face in her hands. He trembled.
"My little diamond," Sakura said. She saw a hint of a smile when she used that name. But moisture also gathered at the base of his eyelashes. They glistened like the freshly-thawed leaves poking through the soil.
"My sweet Haku," was all she could say.
How could she word how much she loved him? And how much he broke her heart with the love he gave so freely in return? His head drooped into her palms. She held the weight of all his tangled thoughts in her hands.
"Were you always so filled with water?" she asked. A lilt of teasing in her tone.
Haku let out a soft hiccup. Tears welled over, trickling down his cheeks and wetting her thumbs. They filled her palms as she held him there.
"Haku," she sighed.
"I'm sorry," he said. Ducking toward his chest, he sniffed.
"Forgive me, My Lady. For being so unseemly. I just..." Haku trailed off. When Sakura wiped his tears, more spilled forth. He let out half a sob.
She waited. Not caring that the tears dripped down her wrists, wetting her sleeves. Not caring that snot dribbled out of his nose.
"I was...just...so lonely. Even when...I shouldn't because..." Haku hiccuped. "Because I have so much now. Lady Shi-Shizune... and Zabuza. But I..."
"And yet you were still lonely," Sakura finished for him, a sad smile on her lips.
Haku wept, childishly and wonderfully. He held on to her wrists with such strength that it surprised her. He apologized to her again and again. It wasn't that she understood his tears. Not completely. That was a lesson that she was still learning. How no one person could understand everything. And how to find peace within that unknown.
All she could do was infer based on what she knew. And what she knew for certain was that Haku had missed her. And that he was so overjoyed to see her again.
"I'm so sorry, Lady Sakura. I'm so ashamed," Haku whispered.
She gazed up into his red face. She followed the ugly furrows in his forehead and the scrunch of his nose. She watched the way tears gathered in heavy droplets across his lashes. All she could do was smile.
"You, of all people, should never feel shame for who you are," she declared.
Haku nodded as he continued to cry.
It took a long time for Haku to compose himself. Zabuza took a step forward to stuff a clean handkerchief into Haku's fist. The boy mumbled his thanks as he wiped at his puffy eyes. Sakura used the edge of her sleeve to dab at the places he had missed. When he had settled into soft hiccups, Sakura ran her thumbs over his closed eyes.
"Well...that was certainly a memorable greeting," she remarked. Haku sniffled out a laugh.
"I'm guessing that you missed me. While that makes me feel very special, no more tears now, Haku," she then said. He blinked, eyelashes still heavy.
When he gave her a tremulous smile, Sakura beamed.
"There we are. Exactly what I wanted," she declared. Squeezing his cheeks together, she pulled his face down. She pressed her brow to his. As if it would help him know how much his smiles shone so brilliantly. Like sunlight scattering across a sandbar. Light swaying in the current. The patterns dancing. The little songbird flitting from frond to frond without a care.
Sakura held the boy close to her until the staccatos in his breathing stopped. When he let out a low, soft sigh, she knew that he was going to be fine. She kissed his left cheek and then his right. She lowered her hands and Haku's eyes followed them. There was something in his expression that she couldn't quite name.
Not until she half-turned toward the door.
"Perhaps I can ask Zetsu to bring some…" She trailed off when she felt a tug on the back of her robe. She twisted back. Haku pinched the hem between two of his fingers, looking just as surprised as she was. Sakura blinked a few times, not quite sure what to say. Haku turned to look at Zabuza still looming in the doorway. His tree trunk arms still crossed over his chest. Sakura couldn't see what kind of face Haku made. But it took less than a few heartbeats for Zabuza to uncross his arms. He pushed off the doorframe, trudging to the door.
"Thank you," Haku said in a tiny voice. Zabuza paused. He grunted in return before he slipped out the door.
"Oh my," was all Sakura could comment. She looked at Haku again. His fist bunched more of her robe towards him.
"You must teach me how you did that," she said. Haku stared at her, eyebrows rising.
"What are you saying, Lady Sakura? I learned that from you," he stated in return.
A laugh slipped past her lips. She kissed Haku's cheek one more time. A hint of stubble grated at her skin.
"You've grown so much. You must tell me everything. Especially about-" Sakura cut herself short, one eyebrow rising. When Haku tilted his head, Sakura jabbed her thumb in the direction of the door. Haku's face promptly filled with color. He raised his hands to cover his cheeks. Still laughing, Sakura took him by the arm to steer him into the sitting room.
It almost felt like home. The flickering candles, the hot tea.
Haku dropped a cube of sugar into Sakura's hot tea. The sweet smell of flowers confused her for a moment. But as she inhaled more deeply, she recognized the aroma of fresh moonblooms. She caught Zabuza's gaze over the rim of her teacup. When she held his eyes for too long, he turned away.
"Why not pour yourself some of this, Haku? Instead of that black tea. This smells like a recent crop," suggested Sakura. Zabuza's eyes flickered to her once. He cleared his throat. Haku leaned toward him to listen.
"Oh, My Lady, Zabuza says that this is a gift from Lady Inuzuka. It would be rude to waste it," he told her. Zabuza looked more irritated than usual, likely because he had meant to be secretive. Sakura hummed to herself and didn't press the matter. But then Haku wavered between the two teapots, gnawing on his lower lip.
"I suppose I'll try the moon tea first. And then the black," decided Haku. Zabuza's gaze flitted to Sakura once more.
Panic, Sakura realized. That was what she saw in his face.
She felt her gut clench once. Shaking her head a little, she held Zabuza's stare. Let her eyes go cold. She lowered her teacup into her lap. Felt her lips curl into a smile that was more of a snarl.
"Go on. Have a taste, darling," Sakura encouraged, voice dripping with nectar.
"My, it does have a wonderful fragrance," hummed Haku as he poured himself a cup. The steam curled into the air above the porcelain. Zabuza leaned forward from his seat on the windowsill.
"You're not good with hot drinks," he murmured. His odd tone caught Haku's attention. Turning toward the mercenary, Haku gave a blinding smile. The kind that hurt to look at directly.
"If I add milk, it should be fine. You worry too much," replied Haku. He poured in a generous helping of milk. The tea turned almost gold as he stirred. Sakura traced the movement of each of his hands. The way he laid the spoon with care on the tray, so as not to make a loud noise.
Zabuza held her eyes again. This time, there was a completely different message there. He was screaming without sound. His tortured gaze flickered back to Haku. Haku, who was now holding the teacup just under his nose. Inhaling.
Eyebrows pinching together, Zabuza touched his forehead before lowering his head. Chin nearly touching his chest. The sign of the most humble apology. And when he lifted his bloodshot eyes to meet her gaze, Sakura knew she had won.
Sakura lifted her drink to her lips. Took a long sip.
"Oh. Haku, dear," she called. Haku's head jerked up from his cup. His lips still pursed in an 'o' to drink. Sakura touched her lips with the tips of her fingers, she grimaced.
"The moon tea's steeped too long. It's much too bitter for your taste," she said, motioning for his teacup. Haku glanced down at the warm concoction with its sweet smells. But when had Lady Sakura ever misled him? He surrendered his drink with no complaints. Sakura gestured to the unused cup on the tray.
"If Zabuza doesn't mind, why not use his to pour yourself some of the black?" she then suggested. Her eyes lingered on Zabuza's downcast face.
Sakura chatted with Haku for a couple hours. As his eyelids began to droop, she offered him her lap. With his new, taller frame, Haku hesitated to act like a child. But when Sakura assured him that it was fine, he laid his head on her thighs. His hair spilled forward, a river of black syrup around his head. Haku fell asleep in the middle of a slurred thought, his fingers tucked under his cheek.
Sakura glared into the fire, her lips tight. She swallowed the rest of her tea, the taste of flowers lingering across her palette. After a long while, she took Haku's hand, lifted it up. It flopped back down, slapping her knee. The soft rhythm of his breaths went uninterrupted.
"Moonbloom nectar is toxic. It becomes more potent the longer it's been off the plant," Sakura declared. Almost like she was thinking out loud. Like she was teaching him something he didn't already know.
"You shouldn't be so careless, Zabuza. You almost lost him today," she then stated. She stroked her hand through Haku's silky hair. His head didn't stir in her lap. Zabuza didn't look at her.
So she looked at him instead. Shadows and light flowing across her face as she pinned him down. Her teeth gleaming soft in the night.
"And make no mistake. There is no cure. No reversal once you lose someone as precious as this."
"Yes," replied Zabuza.
Sakura lifted her chin.
"Then know this. What's mine is mine." Her voice grew soft, tapering off as sharp as a blade.
"You wouldn't hurt him like that," Zabuza hissed back. The way his voice growled reminded her of a guard dog.
Her expression suddenly lightened. Sakura touched the back of her hand to Haku's brow.
"You're right. This child has lost everything. He has no titles, no mother, and no father. Such a pitiful boy," Sakura declared. Her eyes narrowed.
"And now he has a splendid mercenary. One who would burn the world to ashes for his sake. A wonderful man and…" Sakura paused. She could feel Zabuza's glower driving deep into her skull. She could feel his fury, the desire to spill her blood as she continued to stroke Haku's head.
"And a family," she concluded.
"You are not his mother," snapped Zabuza. Perhaps if it had been anyone else, that might have hurt her. But Sakura felt only pity for him. She smiled a little.
"No, I'm not. But this child is mine now. I've taken him into my house. I worry about his future; I fret over his hurts," she declared. Zabuza's upper lip twitched.
"I've poured more love into this boy than he knows what to do with. If I should disappear, what do you think will happen to this child? How much more should he have to suffer until you're satisfied?" she challenged. Her words were soft. Almost as soft as her hands as she cupped Haku's cheek.
"I bought you, Zabuza. You're supposed to be mine. And what's mine is mine."
Her eyes pierced him through. Deflating his anger as he started to realize something.
"You're not going to kill me," he finally noticed.
Sakura didn't respond to that. She bent over her lap, kissing Haku's forehead before she smoothed his bangs across it. A hint of tenderness seeped into her expression. And it lingered in her gaze as she looked up at Zabuza.
"Are you going to become a problem, Zabuza?" questioned Sakura.
"…No," he answered after a long moment.
"Good," she stated in return. She leaned over again. Taking Haku's face in both her hands, she kissed his forehead again. When he didn't stir, Sakura squeezed his cheeks together. His forehead puckered.
"Haku, my darling, you should sleep in your bed," she whispered. Haku grumbled something and didn't move. He turned on his side, pressing his face against her stomach. She chuckled.
"Did you plan this?"
"Plan what?" she asked.
"This." Zabuza's tone forced her to look at him. And the mercenary was fixated on Haku, his jaw tight. She didn't understand at first. What could innocent Haku possibly do to harm another person? Such a gentle child so filled with love.
Then she recalled her first betrayal. Her nursemaid- a woman who had served the Haruno family for years. Sakura didn't quite know all the details. Whenever she asked her aunt, Kurenai's voice went cold, hands tightening. Whatever the woman's crime, it had been atoned for with her life.
"I would have nursed you myself if I could have, love. Rather than leave you in the care of a stranger. In the end, all we have is each other. Blood calls out to blood."
There had been a string of treachery after that. The few palace guards- before she had replaced them with the kingdom's soldiers. Some maids and even peasants who had been given too much gold. They hadn't been too creative. Poison, kidnappings. Those had all stung, but hurt a little less each time.
Perhaps Zabuza had known betrayal too. No. When Sakura gazed into his eyes, she knew that he had.
"Actually, no. It was quite a fortunate turn of events for me, Zabuza. Of course, I understand if you don't believe me," she assured him.
Zabuza glared at her, his eyes locked with hers. His arms tightened across his chest. She knew that she was being assessed. When he broke the stare, he grunted low in the back of his throat. Zabuza leaned back, shoulder blades pressing to the window panes. She could see them begin to fog up from his body heat.
"You're a sly woman. If it wasn't this, you would've ensnared me some other way," he concluded, leaning back against the window. Sakura relaxed a little too. Chin resting against the back of her wrist.
"Men like you are simple. You only bow to true power in the end- not money," she observed. Zabuza let out one dry laugh.
"You've already got the rest of them," he deduced.
Sakura didn't answer that. But her silence seemed as good as confirmation.
"And speaking of money, who persuaded you to turn your back against me? Moon tea leaves are harmless when dried. Tea made with nectar is highly toxic. That might have been effective if I hadn't noticed the difference," Sakura asked.
"No name. Saw no face. Approached me in a tavern on your island. About two months back- right before we left for here," reported Zabuza. Dry, as if he wasn't describing explicit details of his betrayal of her.
"Older man?" Sakura pressed.
"Woman," he corrected her.
"Hm."
Sakura considered his face one last time before she shook Haku again. He rubbed his eyes. This time, she glanced Zabuza's way. He stood to help Haku up, half-carrying and half-leading Haku to his bed.
"Time for bed, my darling," she said to the boy.
Haku paused in the doorway, teetering on his feet. He looked back at her over his shoulder, eyes barely open.
"You'll still be here in the morning, Lady Sakura?" he queried. Sakura smiled at him, and then at Zabuza lingering behind him.
"Of course," she assured them both.
The bedroom door swung shut after Haku mumbled a final "good night" to her. Sakura picked up the book he had given her, tucking it under her arm. She blew out the candles, leaving the fire crackling in the hearth. The rain still pounded away outside, tapping out a solemn rhythm. A chorus of empty applause pattering against the manor walls.
Sakura lingered in the dark room for an extra moment. Feeling the creases of the leather binding under her fingers. Breathing in the smell of wood smoke. And then, tucking her hands under her arms, she slipped out of the guest suite.
The halls weren't completely dark. The flicker of the candles in their little glass cases made golden pools on the floor. Just enough to light the way back to her room. She didn't ever recall saying so, but Zetsu seemed to know how much she detested gloominess. How the damp shadows of the Green Heart made her teeth clench. She recalled him once being in charge of the old summer palace. It sat along the coast near Albion. Sakura had converted it into a military base during the last war and had never reclaimed it. It was serving a better purpose anyway.
Kurenai had often mentioned how her older sister had never liked the place anyway. Her advice to move Zetsu to manage the estate in Whitewave had made more sense than bringing him to Leaves or Plumeria.
She knew that her aunt was somewhere in the city. Lady Kurenai wasn't foolish enough to stay at the Haruno estate. There would be too many eyes searching for her there. And since Chojuro was with her, Sakura had little fear for her safety. She made up her mind to send Kushimaru to search for her in the morning. It would be nice to have tea with her once again.
A flash of lightning lit up the sky. Sakura stopped to look out the nearest window. Brushing past the heavy silver curtains, she pressed her palms to the glass. The rain was pouring down now. She couldn't identify anything in the darkness- not even the main road leading into the city. Even the nearby lighthouse was shrouded in complete darkness.
A thump behind her pulled her from the window. She tensed, both hands slipping under her robe. They curled around the hilts of the knives strapped to her thighs. A breath huffed out near her. She slid the blades out, hefting them in her palms. Testing the weight.
"Not a lot of fortifications in this place," Kisame said as he stepped closer to her. The grey light from the window cast odd shadows across his face. Made him look aged. He raised both his hands up in a peaceful gesture. Sakura's shoulders relaxed. She spun the knives in her hands and returned them to the holsters.
"Didn't want to interrupt your deep thinking. But you shouldn't be alone," grunted Kisame. Sakura took a step to the side and he joined her at the window. He braced his forearm against the wooden frame. It might have been the lighting, but he suddenly looked so weary. As she studied his face, Kisame turned to look at her.
"You should have at least had Zabuza walk you to your room. I don't know the layout of this place well enough to protect you," he went on.
Sakura smiled.
"Don't fret, Kisame. Even if I'm killed, you won't lose the money I promised you," she responded. Her attempt to be glib fell flat under his stare. The shadows seemed to sink deeper in his face as he shook his head. She weighed his expression carefully. And Kisame's back straightened as he took in her stare, well aware of being analyzed. He arched his eyebrows, waiting.
"Zabuza tried to kill me," she admitted.
"What?"
She almost took a step back at his rough tone. His face was suddenly in front of her. Kisame's black eyes narrowed, scanning her. And then he was glowering at her white nightgown, searching for any blood or rips. Sakura sighed.
"You're not hurt," he finally observed.
"I could have told you that, Kisame," she pointed out. He was glaring at her again.
"And you would have lied, M'Lady," he said.
Sakura said nothing.
But she didn't have to. The big mercenary reached behind him, fingers wrapping around the hilt of his sword.
"Kisame."
His eyes were angry slits now.
"If you're saying that you're just overlooking this, I'll-"
"It's not overlooking, Kisame. It's called keeping a level head," Sakura countered. She shoved him in the chest with one hand. He didn't even flinch.
Kisame's jaw clenched. His grip tightened on his blade.
"Kisame."
And then, something seemed to snap within him.
"Then what would you have me do, M'Lady? Sleep like a babe until morning? How can you be so calm when you've made me like this?" he barked. The boom of his voice echoed up and down the empty hallway. And it seemed to rattle up into her skull too. She prepared to dodge a blade or to jump back when he smashed something. Instead, Kisame wrenched his hand from his weapon. His arms quivered like a bowstring just after releasing an arrow.
Sakura swallowed, unsure of what to say. Kisame jerked his head to the side, not looking at her. It took a moment of stunned silence for her to find her voice.
"What have I done to you?" she questioned.
She watched Kisame's adam's apple bob up and down. He gritted his teeth. And when his head snapped back to her, she suddenly understood.
"You're...you are..." his voice faltered. "You're the first thing I've wanted to believe in...in a long...long time. So if you disappear..." Kisame trailed off. Shame made his voice thick. His eyes darted away from her. He cleared his throat too many times.
Sakura's face didn't match his at all. She smiled, color filtering up to her cheeks.
"Kisame." He wouldn't look at her.
"Kisame," she said again, tugging at the front of his shirt. This time, he moved his head little by little. Glancing at her out of the corners of his eyes.
"If you believe in me, believe in my decisions. Zabuza will not harm me and so I've decided to leave him be," she promised. And then she poked him in the chest with her pointer finger.
"And if he should, I have someone to seek vengeance," added Sakura.
Kisame's eyes darted around as he seemed to consider all of this. After a long while, he puffed out a great breath.
"You should have said protect, not seek vengeance," he grunted. His arms still bound tightly across his chest.
"Am I wrong?" she responded.
Kisame let out a long breath.
"Are you sleeping soon?" he asked.
Sakura suppressed a smile. That's what Kisame did when he knew he couldn't win. He moved on to the next subject. Like he was accepting what she had to say as the new reality and life went on. It wasn't the most honorable way of dealing with defeat. But it wasn't half-bad for a rogue, coarse, money-seeking, whore-loving mercenary.
"Soon," she said. She held up the book. "I have a bit of light reading to do first."
"Come," Sakura directed. She stepped out from between the curtains. Kisame followed, although she could feel his glower between her shoulder blades.
"What are you sour about now?" she asked without looking back at him. He grumbled deep in his chest.
"We've been riding nonstop since the capital…" Kisame trailed off. But he didn't need to finish his thought.
"And you would rather that I sleep," she finished. Kisame nodded once.
"I will...eventually. But you should rest as well. You've been riding as long as I have," Sakura went on. Kisame pursed his lips. He was no better than her.
"Kushimaru?" she asked. It occurred to her that she hadn't seen him in quite some time. At the very least, she had expected him to be hovering outside the door. Or even caught his shadow as he slipped through windows and doorways. He was just as silent- she was just getting better at noticing him.
"He's sleeping," reported Kisame. Sakura's eyes widened.
"Oh! Good," she replied.
"In the rafters of your room," he went on.
"Oh."
"He says to wake him whenever you fall asleep. Which means he'll likely be sleeping for a long time," Kisame added, sending her another pointed look. Kisame pushed a heavy door open for her. She was kind enough not to point out his chivalry.
She lingered in the doorway.
"Be at peace tonight, Kisame. Kushimaru will watch over me," she said, giving his chest a light push. He sucked in air between his pointed teeth. And then, giving her one last glare, he huffed out a breath through his nose.
"If you die, I blame you," he relented.
"Very well."
She didn't watch him head to his own quarters. She trusted him to keep his word.
As she slipped into the bedroom, she looked up toward the rafters. She could almost make out Kushimaru's silhouette tucked up there. The fire had died down in her absence. She placed a couple logs in the fireplace. The crackle of the wood roused him. She watched his shadow shift, stretching out into one long shape.
He rolled, soundlessly, onto his stomach. His arm hung off the beam. She watched him twitch his fingers to get her attention.
"You can sleep more, if you'd like. I'll be awake for a little while longer," Sakura said. She stared up into the darkness until his mask appeared. She could feel him appraising her expression. Tilting his head to one side, he seemed to think. And then his masked face retreated into the shade.
It was difficult to read by the flickering light of the fireplace. She moved around the room trimming the candlewicks with a small knife. She held one of the longest candles over the fireplace until a small flame leapt up onto the end. And then she moved in the same order, lighting each candle until a soft glow illuminated the bed. Only when she settled under the covers with the book in her lap did Kushimaru move his arm.
The dry rustle of turning pages was the only thing to fill the quiet.
In ancient days, before man had learned to cultivate the land, the people of the desert wandered. The word used for them today is "nomad".
There were many peaceable peoples, herders and their flocks. Inevitably, as the people multiplied, they began to compete. Water was the most sacred resource in the sands. Laying claim to the wells and oases was crucial for survival.
There arose a man- Masato the Great. He was a man of immense strength and cunning. He forged an alliance with his uncle's clan by taking his cousin as his bride. He was the first man to take up arms to defend his water. Masato's first bride was a feared shaman in her own right. Many believe that it was her strength that-
Sakura set the book down for a moment. Something was strange about this text. From the ancient history she had learned as a child, this didn't seem inaccurate. She skimmed through the rest of the first chapter. Masato the Great's first wife bore him two sons and a daughter.
As he razed through the sands, he conquered a rival clan. And then another. And yet another. Until his gold and his herds were almost uncountable.
His harem expanded as well. Princesses and queens of other clans who bore him so many children that he did not even know all their names. As word of Masato's brutality spread, other clans began to send tribute. In hopes that his bloodshed would pass over their people.
Masato's sons went on to be even more vicious than their father. His fourth son slew his elder brothers to claim the title of clan head. And in vengeance, the ninth son slew the fourth's sisters before slaughtering all his remaining brothers. He carved a path of bloodshed through the lands. Like his father, he was sometimes pacified with tribute. But sometimes, the tribute would be too little and it would offend him. Other times, it would be too much, and he would attack the clans to steal what remained of their wealth.
The history of bloodshed went on and on. And even though Sakura knew that these were her ancestors, she couldn't even force herself to like them.
She went on to the next section. The Haruno clan became a fearsome name. They were warlords now. Wherever they roamed the wastes, destruction would follow. There was even a folktale that the first red desert roses bloomed from the pools left in the carnage.
Even though her eyes began to dry out, Sakura pushed on. She traced Akuro the Bloody's butchering streak through the Serpent's Pass.
Only when she reached the end of Akuro's life at the hands of his nephew did Sakura realize what was wrong.
She had no problem reading this book. Even though it was a gift from the Arids.
Although she had grasped their spoken language, the written language had mystified her. It was such a complex system of swirls and lines. She had only been able to learn the basics. Her family's name. Her great-uncle's name.
Then why would the Arids carry this book translated?
Sakura flipped the book over. She checked the first few pages for an explanation. Eventually, she found a note written on the inside cover. Just after the final page.
My dearest grandniece,
The archivist brought these texts to my attention the winter before your arrival. I knew nothing would come of you meeting with the lady of the Terumi family. Part of the reason I encouraged your visit was to ensure enough time to translate the contents within. I hope that you will forgive my small deceit.
Many generations ago, before you or I, a member of our family sent a package to the oasis. Within contained the personal diary of Kaguya, which had been hidden away in Plumeria.
It is my sincere hope that it will impart ancient wisdom when I cannot be by your side.
She blinked a few times at the words. A personal diary.
"This isn't a diary," she declared. The crackle of the fireplace answered her. And even if Kushimaru were awake, he certainly wouldn't reply.
Sakura opened up the book again. She checked the contents page in the beginning. No mention of a diary or the long-dead queen. She leaned forward, shifting the book closer to her face. Slowly, she thumbed through the individual pages. Testing the feel against her fingers until something stopped her. She flipped back a little while. And in looping black letters, she found a page that said, "Excerpts from the Diary of Queen Kaguya".
It was undeniably odd to see the diary transplanted in there. The paper was almost the same color as the surrounding pages. But when she ran her thumb over them, the grain was slightly off. She squinted in the dark, touching the inside crease. After some investigation, she discovered that they had been sewn into the existing book. Almost grafted in like the new branch of a tree joining onto an older plant.
What was even more odd was that a newer page followed each page of the diary. At first, Sakura couldn't understand. But as she flipped through, she realized that the newer pages were translations of the original text.
Mother says that a girl should be in the habit of recording her thoughts and her days. She claims that self-reflection is the means to a healthy mind. Mother makes it no secret that she resents me for being born the weaker sex. Had I had a choice, I would have made myself a man as well. Despite this, she bought this journal from the market in the hopes that I would immerse myself in this hobby. I cannot help but wonder if this is a way for her to limit my speech. Her kindness fills me with worry rather than joy.
I doubt that I will find much use for this trinket. Although I must admit that it does feel pleasant to receive a gift from Mother for once.
Father visited the harem this morning. Of course, he did not acknowledge mother. Of his older wives, she is the only one who has not borne him a son. I overhear Father's first wife consoling her at night when she weeps. She assures Mother that if she would bear him a son, all would be forgiven. I wonder if it is actually because he cannot tell her from the countless other women.
An emissary from a faraway kingdom arrived at the oasis today. One of the eunuch boys told me that they come from a distant nation across the great salt sea. Mother scolded me for calling it a foreign place. According to her, there are Haruno's living in this strange land. It was only then that I remembered the oddly-dressed relatives who come to visit every few years. They always bring such lovely bolts of fabric, the kind that slips through your hands when you try to grab it. They always speak with the oddest accidents, but Father's second wife pierces us with the evil eye whenever we laugh.
Father's eldest sister informed me that I would be leaving with the emissaries at the end of this month. Mother struck me when I begged her to allow me to stay. She said that it was an honor that Father had chosen me out of many daughters. In my anger, I replied that he had likely chosen a girl at random since he knew neither our names nor our faces. She struck me again. Father's sixth wife later told me not to feel too hurt. That Mother was weeping as well.
I am to be betrothed to the heir of the Forest Kingdom. As my parting gift, the crones are tattooing me. They promised me a peacock. A queen's bird, they say. It is fitting given how a peacock cannot truly fly. And I have had my wings clipped my entire life.
Of all my sisters, Fu, writes most often. She asks of the Forest Kingdom and of my jewels and dresses. She certainly imagines a rosy life. She tells me that Mother plans to ask Father to keep her close. I do not possess the cruelty to tell her that Father does not remember her. That he will not keep his word. Especially since he made our mother the very same promise concerning me.
I cannot tell her how much I despise my weak husband. Father always said that a man without conviction is a man without purpose. Although I have never loved Father, I have trusted his wisdom. A man does not acquire such land without cunning.
My husband is a pleasant enough person. But he is unable to make a decision, wavers pathetically in court. I dread the nights when he arrives at my chambers. He is not cruel, but I despise the weight of his feeble body atop mine. I pray for it to end quickly so that he will return to his chambers.
And so to Fu, my responses remain curt. She may think me cruel, but I want to spare her from the truth. That the role of any Haruno woman is the same. To remain beautiful and to remain silent.
He was stillborn.
I wanted to name him Akio.
I asked that he be buried in the gardens. It is neither a custom of my people nor my husband's. But no one will refuse a grieving queen. I realize that it is not uncommon.
But I would have had a son.
His Majesty has decided to send me to Plumeria for the summer. It is that holding of the Haruno family, although they're long removed from my bloodline. They have promised me a place to recover in peace.
Last night, His Majesty brought up the possibility of trying for another child. When I can scarcely bear to look upon his face. 'It was a boy. We can do it again.'
How I abhor him and his soft ignorance.
I pretended to be asleep and he spoke no more of it.
The Duke of the Southern Tea Isle is quite kind. Moreso than I was led to believe. I believe that jealousy has turned the opinions of him in court sour.
Even this far from the Arids, Haruno loyalty seems to thrive. I was immediately given the best guest rooms. The most faithful and quiet servants. The gifts they have given me fill an entire room in my quarters.
I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the duke's bride is my cousin Itoki's eldest daughter. She was always a delicate little thing but she seems to be doing well on this island. She appears happy. As round as she is with child, she roams the island without a care. I have seen her swimming in the palace waters and even riding horseback.
The construction of this place is so peculiar. Not built on solid land, the structures appear to float on the waves. It seems fitting for people who seem to love the water so. It is not as if I cannot understand them.
This is a tranquil place.
I am with child again. His Majesty is thrilled, of course. I asked to be able to spend my pregnancy back on the isle. The excuse was that the sea air would be good for the child this time around. The truer reason is that I cannot stand the looks from the nobles. The whispers that perhaps I will lose this one too.
Of course, his Majesty granted me safe passage. He refuses me nothing.
It has occurred to me several times now that his Majesty is quite enamored with me. Few women ever find such a loving husband. I wish I could bring myself to love him in return, but he continues to repulse me. Such a spineless creature wearing the skin of a man.
I leave for Plumeria in a week's time. The Duke and Duchess have already sent me a message welcoming me. That my room has already been prepared.
Such kindness. I wonder if the abundance of water is what causes that kindness to overflow in them. If it is the desolation of the desert that has rendered me so cold.
Two sons.
Hagoromo and Hamura.
His Majesty is beyond thrilled. He scarcely leaves the nursery, much to the scorn of the court. My indifference towards him remains unchanged.
And yet I feel such a strange stirring within. When I laid my eyes upon these two boys. So tiny, their eyes yet to open. They suckle blindly, laying their little heads to sleep wherever they are. One unkind touch would undo it all.
It is the custom of these people to have others nurse their children. When I sent the woman away, it was the subject of much scorn among the noble ladies. And yet I care not to explain. That blood calls to blood. How would I trust the hands of a stranger to hold my sons? Even His Majesty asked me to reconsider. All the more reason to detest him. That he would bend to the will of strangers over that of his wife.
If my husband will not be strong, if he will not protect these children, then I will.
His Majesty is dead. The court whispers treachery. Many fingers point at me, the foreign-born queen. I have little energy to worry about such small voices. My sons must come first. They can scarcely walk. With few I can trust, I have no choice but to turn to the Duke of the Southern Tea Isle. I will seek refuge with him while the uproar dies down in the capital.
As the line of succession goes, since His Majesty left male heirs, they are next to inherit the throne. Until they come of age, His Majesty's brother would serve as the Regent. I have my suspicions that perhaps this brother may have had a hand in my husband's demise. Without evidence and without the support of the other nobles, any accusations will ring false.
The Duke confirmed my suspicions. Indeed His Majesty's brother has always had ill rumors surrounding him. Although he will not say how, the Duke has received word of a possible inquisition. There has been word of imprisoning me or of even sending me to the Arids.
The Duke has offered me safe passage back to my motherlands. He urged me to protect my sons until they were of age to reclaim the throne. I questioned how they would reclaim a throne that was stolen away from them.
In desperation, we have written to my father. Even if he does not remember me, he will know that I am now the queen of a foreign nation. It will take many months to receive any response from him.
I hold my sons close to me at night. They are too young to push me away. But I dread the day that will come when they find me suffocating rather than comforting.
The diary entries ended there. So abruptly that Sakura wondered whether she had skipped over a section. She flipped back through the pages. Read again. Ended up in the same place.
It was obvious that there were many entries missing. They skipped between months and years. The blank spaces leaving more questions than answers.
"This is it?" she asked out loud. The ceiling beams creaked in response.
Sakura leaned back. There was so much bouncing around in her head. So many stories and perspectives that she had never considered. But as she absorbed all this information, the feeling that lingered in her chest was sadness. Which crystalized into pity.
Perhaps Queen Kaguya hadn't been quite the demon that she had become in lore. Perhaps she had been a real person with aspirations and fancies.
But her mother hadn't been wrong in one aspect.
Women need to be strong in order to survive.
And while Sakura couldn't speak for how well Kaguya had handled the turmoil in her country in the days after her husband's death, she couldn't have been too incompetent. After all, she was sitting here reading about it. Kaguya had been strong enough that her children were prospering to this day.
Sakura sank down into the pillows, her mind still racing. Dry eyes sliding shut, she took a deep breath. Her mind drifted to the covered portrait of the queen hanging back in Plumeria. Perhaps the coldness in her eyes hadn't been cruelty. A thin veneer to conceal the terror of the future. The face of a woman showing strength to shield her children from the ugliness of reality. She thought back to the faces of the two boys peering out from her furs.
They had looked safe.
Before she had realized, Sakura had fallen asleep. The heavy book squeezed to her chest. In her dreams, she was floating through wisps of soft, silvery hair. Swathed in lengths of deep purple and blue muslin. Embroidered rams and snakes danced past her, their golden threads glimmering. And gentle arms embraced her until they dissolved into turquoise feathers.
Out of the mists, a white face emerged. Sharp cheekbones and sneering mouth, just as she had always imagined. But as her clawed hands reached out, her face softened. Her eyes creased in the corners as she returned Sakura's gaze.
"Do you still feel lost?" Kaguya asked her. And from her hair emerged two little faces. Their round green eyes filled with wonder. They grasped at the bottom of Sakura's dress, pulling her in closer.
"Yes," confessed Sakura. She held out her hands. Kaguya grasped them; she felt surprisingly warm.
"What do I do, Mother?" she found herself asking. She felt her cheeks warm. This woman was most certainly not her mother. But as she stared into Kaguya's silvery eyes, she didn't feel shame. Kaguya smiled and the expression was oddly familiar. The ancient queen leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Sakura's.
"Are you strong, Sakura?" Kaguya inquired. Her voice was filled with honey. It made her chest ache.
"I used to think that I was," answered Sakura. Kaguya squeezed her hands. Feeling an odd pressure, Sakura glanced down. She saw her golden signet ring with its ruby sparkling on her finger.
Sakura woke to the screech of distant gulls. Her eyes snapped open. She looked for the window first. The dark blue of the sky told her that it was still before dawn.
And though she was now awake, she could hear Kaguya's voice echoing in her ears.
"Then you are."
Sakura lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling for a long knocks at the door.
"Lady Sakura, word from Lady Inuzuka. Tea will be served at 3 today," came Zetsu's voice.
There was a pause.
"Lady Sakura?"
Sakura sighed.
"If it's not too wet, prepare the terrace for breakfast," she answered.
"Very good, My Lady," he replied.
But the night was done. Pink and purple began to streak the sky. Soon, the sun would raise its head to start its journey all over again. And so Sakura too rose. It was time to start a new day. Thoughts of lingering dreams could wait until it was night again.
Kushimaru had slipped out sometime during the night. His head appeared in the window as she pulled her robe over her shoulders. His hand tapped the glass pane.
"Find my aunt for me. She's in the city," she ordered without looking at him. He tapped again and then he was gone.
She hadn't brought much in the way of wardrobe. Yet when she opened her armoire, she found it filled to capacity. White dresses of silk, silken and airy like clouds. Sheer trains edged with pearls. There were garments in other colors too. Aquamarine like the waters in the bay of Plumeria. Creamy yellows and ivories. Even some pinks, like the hint of roses on a young girl's cheeks.
Sakura ran her hand over the clothing. She was suddenly overcome by a wave of homesickness. She had long ago grown accustomed to being away from her island. From its smiling people.
Yet, when she saw the sparkling beading, the embroidery, it reminded her. That there were fingers who had sewn each bead. Hands that had dipped and dyed these fabrics.
She selected a heavier dress. A grey damask that almost looked metal. Gold chains and bangles.
By the time Haku knocked, Sakura was already dressed. She pulled the door open and Haku's eyes widened.
"Oh...I thought to help you prepare..." he trailed off. Sakura smiled.
"You can still help me with my hair. You know that I'm hopeless without you," she assured him. His expression brightened at that.
Zabuza found them having breakfast together in the garden.
The normally white stone was dark gray from the rain. But Zetsu and his staff had somehow made the terrace a pleasant place to dine. The servants brought out tiered stands filled with pastries and little sandwiches. A beautiful teapot dotted with pink flowers. The curved handle was painted like a twisting stem.
"Do you think it too much, Lady Sakura? I can redo it," Haku fretted. Sakura pushed his hands down into his lap.
"I will insist for a third time, my darling. I like it," she stated. Firm. But she spared him a smile before she took a sip of her tea. She then eyed Zabuza's approach with less warmth. He hesitated in the doorway, hands clenched at his sides.
Haku, unaware of his presence, stubbornly reached forward. The two braids started on the left and right sides of her head. But then one on the right seemed to migrate across, joining with the one on the left. They twisted together, falling down the left side of her neck, like a vine. The rest of her hair he had brushed but left loose. He had come leaps and bounds since she had first taught him to tie her hair in Talast.
"I could add some flowers? Or perhaps a pin?" Haku continued to muse.
Sakura half-listened to him. She kept her gaze pinned to Zabuza. The large mercenary stared back, his black eyes unreadable.
And then, slowly, he lowered himself on one knee. Right fist over his heart.
"Such a good dog who knows how to heel," she murmured.
"Did you say something, Lady Sakura?" asked Haku.
"Nothing, my darling. Zabuza, why don't you join us for breakfast?" Sakura said. Haku turned just as Zabuza rose to his full height again. Haku's entire face lit up. He pulled out the empty chair beside him, beaming.
"How funny, Zabuza. You don't need to bow to Lady Sakura. She's nothing like that," remarked Haku as the mercenary settled next to him. Zabuza gave a weary sigh.
"Sure," he grunted.
They spent a peaceful morning together. Haku appeared unwilling to leave Sakura's side for even a moment. It was willful behavior- such an anomaly that Sakura refused him nothing. She showed off her new scars and received his subsequent scoldings without complaint. In turn, her told her stories of the island. Describing his many successes and the more abundant failures. Burnt bread, misplaced lists. He chuckled as he recounted Shizune's many scoldings. He was brighter now, bubblier in some way. His chatter was filled with colors and such joy.
When Haku excused himself to use the restroom, Sakura glanced Zabuza's way. The man had said little all morning. If anything, he seemed a little sullen. Sakura suspected that losing Haku's attention played at least somewhat of a part in this.
"He looks happy. I suppose that you're partially to thank," she stated. Zabuza said nothing.
"Although...I will slit your throat if you harm him," she then added, just as lightly.
Zabuza's eyes widened. Haku returned just as the mercenary let out a short chuckle.
"You never laugh. Did something funny happen?" he demanded. Zabuza's eyes creased as he looked down at Haku. He reached out and with a rough hand, toussled Haku's hair.
"You've found yourself a terrifying mistress," was all Zabuza said in return.
Lady Inuzuka arrived at precisely 3 for afternoon tea. She wore an austere black and forest green dress. Then again, the head of the Inuzuka family had never been a gaudy woman. She bowed as soon as she stepped down from her carriage. Even in the mud that had built up in the rains. She only lifted her head when Sakura touched her shoulder.
"Come, my friend. We have much to discuss," Sakura said. Lady Inuzuka huffed what sounded like a laugh when Sakura offered her arm. They linked arms like young girls. The matron commented on this oddity with another chuckle.
"And who is there to judge us? One of those powdered prunes from Leaves?" sniffed Sakura. At this, Lady Inuzuka burst into a real laugh.
Their conversation ran long. They only ended their talk as the sky began to bleed, signaling the approaching night.
"Rest assured, Your Grace, you have my full support," the older woman declared as she rose. Sakura stood too.
"For now, all I can offer you is my gratitude and promises of the future," Sakura apologized. Lady Inuzuka wrinkled her nose.
"Until now, all I have had are concerns about the future. A promise is a marked improvement, Your Grace," she replied.
With the usual formalities and greetings, Lady Inuzuka rode back to her estate.
Although Lady Inuzuka was the only guest that day, Sakura was exhausted. She turned down dinner and even turned down a glass of wine.
"You must be quite unwell," remarked Kisame, earning an evil look. He chortled at her expense but teased her no more. Although he looked concerned, Haku did, after some persuasion, retire to his own room. Not before asking at least four times whether there was something he could to do help her. He paused by the door.
"I'm unsure of whether it will happen today or tomorrow. But the Admiral arranged for one more gift for you, Lady Sakura," Haku informed her. He looked back at her with his big, clear eyes. And Sakura heaved a sigh.
"More of his surprises? He really should know by now... I dislike anyone touching my chessboard," she said, clicking her tongue. Haku suppressed a chortle. Hand pressed to his lips, he only offered her an impish smile.
"You may not dislike this one as much," he suggested.
"If it's Aunt Kurenai, I already know where she is. Kushimaru located her quite easily," Sakura guessed. But Haku only shrugged.
"Good night, Lady Sakura," he only said. He left her quarters with that mischievous expression. Sakura frowned, hands on her hips.
"Really, that cheekiness... Where on earth did he learn that?" she muttered. Kisame stared at her.
"You can't be serious," he said.
She glowered and Kisame only sniggered more. He walked off, declaring plans to do a last check of the manor before turning in for the night. Kushimaru had spent the better part of the afternoon sleeping. It seemed that Kushimaru at least trusted Kisame to watch over Sakura. Sakura tried not to take offense to the fact that he didn't trust her enough to keep herself safe. After all, he had already lost one master that way.
Despite only getting a couple hours of sleep the night before, Sakura was restless. Haku's words had lit an anxious fire inside her. She hated not being in control, of not knowing what to expect. Both Lord Hatake's father and Shizune had often scolded her for her impatience. The old marquis had been one of the few people unafraid to chastise her. And she missed him all the more for it.
Sakura wandered the corridors for a while longer until she looked out the window again. It was still only nautical twilight. The horizon tinged pink, fading into purple and deep blue as it blended in with the rest of the heavens. With the streetlights, it wouldn't be too difficult to navigate as long as she stayed on the estate. The servants kept those lit all night long.
She pulled on her trusty wolf-skin cloak over her dress.
It took a little while to remember where the stables were. They had arrived in such darkness the night before that she couldn't quite remember all the twists and turns. But soon enough, Sakura heard the whinny and snort of horses. The door to the stables was ajar. Golden light spilled out from the inside. Sakura squeezed past the sliding door.
There was a group of men playing cards in the corner. A single lantern sat on their wooden table. They looked up at her approach. They stared at her, cards still in their hands. Their stupor surprised her until she realized that they didn't know who she was. Of course they wouldn't. This far north, people wouldn't know her from a glance in a dimly lit room.
"I'm here to take my stallion out for a ride. Please continue your game," she finally said. Ignoring their murmurs, she headed straight into the shed. At her approach, some of the horses stuck their heads out to greet her. They were beautiful steeds, cream-colored or black dappled with brown.
"Kaze?" she called.
A snowy head poked out past the wooden slats. He snorted.
"There you are," she sighed. She hurried to unlatch the gate.
"That's the princess' horse, ain't it?" she heard one of the men remark.
Kaze nudged her cheek.
"Did they treat you well, old friend?" she asked, patting his side.
His mane certainly looked glossy. And when she looked him over, it seemed like they had washed and brushed him properly. She considered the saddle mounted on the wall of his stall.
"Shall we go for a walk? Just the two of us," Sakura suggested.
Sakura had always learned that horses did not speak as people did. But she suspected that Kaze, at the very least, knew his own name and understood what a walk was. He was very still as she grabbed a handful of his mane and swung her right leg over his back. He was also very patient as she took the time to adjust on his back. Only when she stopped moving did he swivel his head back to look at her. With a smile, she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
Kaze navigated them out of his stall. The men working in the stable scrambled to pull the door open for them. One of them even bowed so low that his hat fell off.
When she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, he seemed to know what to do. On nights like this, when sleep felt far, she had often done this. Ridden until she finally found rest on his back. Spilled her fearful dreams into his silver mane.
But this was not home. Kaze did not know the terrain. And so he did not run. He wandered, navigating the dark with ease. And Sakura sagged against him, trusting her steed to keep her safe as he had always done.
"Kaze, do you remember when I was a child? We would wander around late at night? And you would always take us to that little cove?" Sakura murmured into his ear. Kaze's eyes flickered toward her voice. But of course, he couldn't respond. If he even understood in the first place. He walked on, hooves tapping a steady rhythm along the path.
"And one day, when I was playing in the waters, a jellyfish stung me. After that, you never took me back there again," she went on. She hugged him just a little tighter.
"That was on purpose. Because you didn't want to see me hurt again, wasn't it?"
She could see it no other way. Kaze would go anywhere on the island, but not there. To this day, even when she directed them, he was oddly reluctant to go.
"Because you're so kind. You really are," she concluded. She pressed her cheek to the side of his neck. Listened to the huff of his breaths as he walked and walked.
Laying this way, she felt her eyelids begin to droop. As the sky darkened into true night, as the trees became black silhouettes, she felt her consciousness slipping. And for a moment, she let herself drift. Not worrying about the dangers in the dark, unconcerned with the days what were to come. Which was why she didn't notice when Kaze slowly stopped walking.
Kaze stamped his hoof down. Let out a great snort. It jostled Sakura, but she did not stir.
Tossing his head, Kaze snorted again. When she was still, he nickered.
"Oh, what is it?" she sighed. Sitting upright, she squinted into the darkness. It took a long moment to orient herself. They were standing on the winding road that led from Whitewave to the estate. She could see the black lanterns that edged the path, little yellow flames in the night.
"What could possibly be so important that you stopped...here..." Sakura's words slowed as she listened. At first, it was hard to tell. But as it drew closer, she could hear hoofs against the ground. She strained her ears to listen more carefully. It didn't seem to be more than one rider.
She looked down at Kaze instead. His head faced forward, ears facing the same way. His body didn't feel tense and even the movement of his tail was a lazy pendulum. Sakura was inclined not to worry if he wasn't all that concerned. But when she leaned to swing Kaze around, he resisted. She tried again, but the horse didn't budge.
"What are..."
Sakura squinted into the darkness again.
"Who is it?" she asked Kaze.
As the rider drew closer, Sakura inched her hands under her cloak. She slipped her fingers past the slits in the sides of her dress. They closed around the daggers resting in the holsters. She kept her hands clenched around them. If a dangerous situation arose, she could at least throw them. Whether she hit the target or not, it would be a good warning.
But even as the noise crescendoed, Kaze seemed as relaxed as ever. He was a steed that had seen many battles. He knew a dangerous situation when he saw one.
As the horse and its rider finally came into view, Sakura drew both blades. Hefting them in her palms, she cleared her throat.
"Halt! Who approached? This is private land," she called into the night.
The hoofbeats faltered. The horse let out a soft wheeze, like its reins were pulled. A long moment passed. The horse took a few more steps forward.
"Sakura. It's me."
Kaze almost bucked when Sakura began flailing on his back. She scrambled off him, nearly falling in the process. And then she began running blindly into the dark, arms pumping at her sides.
"Itachi?"
"I'm here. Follow my voice."
She held her arms out in front of her. From the distant lantern light, she could almost distinguish him from nothing. Her feet scuffed against the dirt as she stumbled over something in the road.
"Here," he said again. This time, he sounded much closer. As if just a few more steps would-
"Here," Itachi declared one last time as she found him. He grabbed her forearm. Her other hand found his elbow. She was frantic. Her trembling hands touched his chest, journeying up until they found his face. His jaw, his cheeks. Even the shape of his ears.
"Oh," was all she could say. She repeated it over and over, all her emotions welling up. Clogging her brain.
"Oh, it's you," she whispered, redundantly.
"Why are you alone? And why are you so late? You should have waited until daylight. It's so dangerous," Sakura began to fret. She imagined him trekking all the way from the top of the mountain. Through the winding forest. Trudging through mud and slush all the way to this port city.
"Suigetsu is- well, was with me. Just a little ways behind," Itachi told her. She heard him chuckle.
"I...may have abandoned him in my excitement to see you," he also confessed.
She laughed along with him, eyes welling over with tears. He heard her sniffle.
"Why are you here?" she asked in a thick voice.
"Do you not want me to be?" he asked in turn.
"How dare you ask such a thing," she half-laughed, half-cried. And then her arms were around him, pulling him so close. And she was so thankful for how much longer his arms were. So that he could engulf her in that embrace. Press her into his chest until she became part of his heart and lungs. So that each of his heartbeats became hers. And he was whispering against the top of her head so many "i love you"s and "i missed you"s until she felt that she might burst.
"Oh...this is terrible," Itachi suddenly whispered. She started.
"What is?"
"I fear that after this... I shall never be willing to be apart from you for this long again. I will be quite worthless without you," declared Itachi, quite seriously.
Sakura found herself grinning. Such a ridiculous expression for such ridiculous words.
"That suits me well, Prince Itachi," she replied.