Chapter 37: Phantoms

Sakura thought that she would have been accustomed to departure by now.

After thirteen years of waiting for Sasuke, thirteen years of constant alone time, thirteen years of watching Sasuke's back as he left, Sakura thought she would be prepared for this.

She had no idea that her hands, heart, and mind would feel so restless without Kakashi's presence.

In the six months or so that they'd spent together since she'd become an active jonin, and in the months they'd spent on this mission, she recognized that Kakashi had quickly become something like home to her. The sudden lack of him was jarring.

Although Kakashi had left Pakkun with her, the pug spent more time napping on soft surfaces rather than conversing. He provided little companionship for her other than knowing she wasn't alone. Sakura even went so far as to ask Pakkun if he would be willing to go on a walk with her.

He declined of course. And when Sakura would ask him about Kakashi's whereabouts, he would reply that he wasn't a psychic and that he agreed to attempt communication with Kakashi in the event of Sakura's danger, not just to check in.

To combat her restlessness, Sakura filled her time with domestic tasks. She found herself scrubbing the floors and counters, washing all of the sheets, refolding the clothes in the dressers, reorganizing the cupboards, and shining the windows. When she felt tired, she would read Icha Icha on the bed or spend time sketching in her notepad.

To Sakura's surprise, she even found herself looking forward to her work shifts, anything that would distract her from the longing in her chest for Kakashi.

Anything except for Sai's practice sessions…

As if clockwork, Sai showed up on Thursday and Friday right at 8 PM. During these sessions, Pakkun had been present for every meeting and had grown accustomed to sleeping on the couch as the hours went by. Both sessions had proceeded in silence other than during the occasional instruction or comment. Today, however, Sai seemed to want to address it.

Sakura and Sai had been sitting in utter silence at the table, just as they had been during the last two sessions, until now.

Sai turned his head to glance at Sakura; she felt his gaze piercing her skin, making her shift uncomfortably in the chair that had become rickety due to Sakura and Kakashi's recent misuse of it.

"Sakura," Sai called out monotonously. "Are you going to avoid speaking to me forever?"

Sakura began to squirm, her foot bouncing on the floor as and she started to chew on her lip.

"I just..." she began hesitantly, looking at him briefly before breaking eye contact once again. "I just don't know how to face you... You must think that I'm such a horrible person..."

She spoke truthfully as she was unsure of what else she could possibly say to him in response to his question.

When he'd asked the question, she had wanted to say yes, and if she could, she'd hide from him for as long as she could, but she knew that that was not a realistic outcome.

Sai blinked twice with an unmoving expression. He seemed to be thinking of what more to say.

"I don't think you're a horrible person," he said as he put down his paint brush. Sai's hands moved to rest on both of his knees as he sat up straight. "I think that you felt alone and hurt, and you found a way to make those feelings go away."

Sakura was shocked by his straightforwardness. Her eyes widened as she mimicked his action and put down the materials she held within her hand.

"What do you..." she started, thinking of all the things Sai possibly could have analyzed about her. It was as though he read her as if she were a book. "How did you know?"

"Your sadness was never discreet, Sakura."

"So you've known this whole time," she asked, though it sounded more like a statement when she said it.

"I think anyone who was close to you and watched you raise Sarada by yourself has known for a long time."

"Oh..."

And then there was silence. Sakura never imagined herself to be a person who let her problems become public. In fact, after all of these years, she tried her hardest to make it seem as though she was okay, as if Sasuke's absence had not bothered her as much as it actually did. She tried to smile and make it seem like she understood his absence, but as it turns out, Sakura must've been wearing her heart on her sleeve.

If Sai was able to pick up on her sadness, then it's likely that all of her friends within the village were keen to it too.

"So you... understand then? You're not mad at me?"

"It wasn't the right thing to do, if that's what you are asking of me, but I do see why it happened."

Once Sai had broken the ice between them, he looked back at his canvas and picked up his brush.

Sai's brush hovered over the canvas in front of him yet he never seemed to lower it. Instead, he leaned over for a moment to look at Sakura's painting. Sakura paused and watched Sai's expression as he observed what Sakura was working on, wondering what he was thinking, worrying about whether or not his scrutiny went beyond what he saw on the canvas in front of her.

She didn't know why she had chosen Sasuke as a subject. It's not as though she was compelled to paint him. Perhaps it was more so that painting Sasuke seemed like a reasonable choice given Sai's awareness of her affair. As though her sin wouldn't look so bad if she started painting a portrait of her husband, her commitment renewed.

Suddenly, however, Sai got up and walked towards the door to retrieve another one of Sakura's canvases. When he walked back to the table, he plucked the canvas he was working on off of the easel and gently placed it on the floor before replacing it with a fresh one.

Sakura watched him with curiosity as he sat back onto the chair, scooted himself forward, and picked up a pencil.

"Talk to me," Sai suggested. He did not look at her. His pencil simply hovered over the canvas as if it were awaiting instruction.

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me how you feel," he said. "I'm sure you have a lot to say."

Sakura paused for a moment, watching him with tightly knitted brows, wondering just where this was going.

"But..." she hesitated. "I'm sure you already know, don't you? You said that everyone could tell."

"This is an exercise. If it helps, I'll ask the questions," he said. "Why did you marry Sasuke?"

Sakura leaned back in her chair. Her mind started reeling with all of the things she could possibly say in this moment. She wondered if she should repeat the scripted responses she gave over the years or really tell him how she felt—if she could manage to say it.

She'd never even admitted her feelings to herself until that night with Kakashi... could she dig out more of her truth now?

"Sasuke was... my dream guy," she breathed, looking down at her knees as her hands moved to rest on her lap. "All of the girls wanted Sasuke; he was cool, mysterious, a genius... unattainable."

She paused, inhaled deeply before admitting more of her secrets. For some reason, the question she found herself so frequently answering in defense of her husband was something she was stumbling to answer. Even the scripted responses wouldn't manifest themselves now. Yet, as though he were waiting for her voice, Sai's pencil moved the moment she began talking.

"I was a girl in love, even before he became my teammate—or so I thought. What does a girl that young know about love anyway? But I thought I did, and when Sasuke left, I was so stuck on this idea of saving him, getting him to come home somehow. I thought that I would do anything to bring Sasuke back. And when he did come back, it was like all of the happiness that evaded me when Sasuke left came flooding back—like I was the only girl in the world who had a chance to be with the unattainable… the infamous Uchiha Sasuke who helped save the world."

"Were you surprised when he left?"

"No. He couldn't say in Konoha, not when everyone continued to see him as untrustworthy."

"So you knew he would leave."

"I didn't know he'd leave for so long. The village has long forgotten Sasuke's crimes. He's redeemed himself already. He could come home if he wants to."

At her words, Sai's pencil seemed to pick up speed. As she listened to the scratching of the lead on canvas, Sakura felt something trigger within her. Sasuke's decision to remain away from home had always been a sensitive subject.

"Home is an interesting word," he replied dispassionately, focused entirely on the canvas with unfeeling eyes. "Konoha has not been Sasuke's home since he originally left to be with Orochimaru."

"Konoha will always be his home," she retorted matter-of-factly, crossing her arms in defiance of that very claim.

"Could he call it home if most of the villagers were not willing to welcome him back?"

Sakura was silent. Sai had a point.

In this silence, Sai placed the pencil on the easel and picked up his paint palette. As he alternated between acrylic paint pots, Sakura watched him mix shades of pink, beige, green, brown, and deep reds.

Yet, as if Sai was entirely unaffected by her silence, unaffected by normal signals for awkwardness, Sai continued his line of questioning.

"What kind of a husband was he to you?"

Sakura did not miss his use of the word was.

"He was..." she began, eyes unblinking as she peered down at her hands, her vision blurred into the recesses of her memories, seeking anything she could find in an attempt to seek a response.

Sakura couldn't bring herself to answer this question. She didn't quite know how to. Although it was a legal reality, the words Sasuke and husband were not synonymous with one another; they were entirely incompatible entities that refused to attach themselves to one another in real life.

"He was..." she repeated, thinking hard, trying to reminisce about the times that Sasuke came home, way back before Sarada was born.

Tadaima was all she could hear in Sasuke's voice—and it had never arrived in a joyous register. It sounded more like a nuisance to say, perhaps even a duty rather than a statement truly heartfelt.

She remembered the attempted conversations at dinner, the silence that descended between them when she attempted to ask questions or sound happy about his return.

At first, the intimacy issues were not much of a problem; he'd come home from a long stint with a craving, one that Sakura was happy to oblige. Yet as the silence between them grew more frequent, the further their lives seemed to get from each other as the months passed, the less Sakura and Sasuke seemed to engage in real intimacy.

He always seemed to be so far away.

Even when Sarada was born, he'd arrive from somewhere, he would poke his daughter's cheek, stare at her in transient wonder, and then be on his way. He never wanted to hold her. He wouldn't admit it, but it seemed as though he was too afraid of her gentle frame.

Or maybe it was that he felt he didn't have the right to do so.

It was only once Sarada was a toddler, when she was running around on her own, that Sasuke had no choice but to interact with her more. When Sasuke came home, Sarada would be afraid of him at first and hide behind her mother's leg. Only once Sakura urged that this strange man was her papa did she open up, and then he couldn't free himself from her.

She would chase him around yelling, "papa, papa!" as if she would never tire of chanting such a foreign word in their household.

But then he stopped coming. He somehow became too busy, too involved in his secret mission to even send a bird, a letter, even place a call… And Sarada had grown into a fully cognizant child without really knowing who her father was beyond photographs and stories.

What kind of a husband was he? Sai had asked.

"He was... absent," she managed to say, thinking of how she could put all of those distant memories into words. "Even when he was home, he wasn't really there. He was quiet when he came home, he was too afraid to hold our daughter... Even now, now that he comes home a little more often than he used to, he doesn't speak to us as much as I'd like him to. It's hard to get close to him."

When Sakura stopped speaking, the focus of her vision returned to her hands which had unconsciously balled the fabric of her pants into tightened fists.

She didn't think to tilt her head back up to look at Sai. If he was listening, he was listening. If he wasn't, it didn't matter. For once, she didn't feel the need to hide her emotions. Sai made it clear he had seen past her attempts to do so in Konoha anyway.

"What kind of a husband is Kakashi?"

When Sai asked this question, Sakura's head shot up in surprise. Her widened eyes stared into the side of Sai's face which remained fixed on the canvas in front of him.

There was no emotion in Sai's face as he painted, no emotion in his voice as he asked the question full of sin.

Is, he had said. She didn't miss it.

"Kakashi is..."

Sakura inhaled deeply, and as she did, she felt the bubbling of nervousness and happiness at the same time. She had never been given the chance to express how Kakashi made her feel to anyone that actually knew who Haruno Sakura was.

There was something terrifyingly liberating about this question, and she was going to take the opportunity to let her heart speak for itself.

"He's the kind of husband I've only ever dreamed of having," she said softly, her chin dropping in slight embarrassment of admitting something so personal. The tightly wound fists seemed to loosen on their own, and the frown that was plastered on her face began to melt away into a gentle smile.

"He wakes up beside me, smiles as he brushes my morning hair away. He kisses me good morning before rising from bed, before cooking me breakfast. Every morning I cover his scar and he covers my byakugou mark. He even walks me to work or class when our schedules allow or picks me up from work. Kakashi makes me feel like I'm in a partnership. We cook for each other, we clean for each other, when something is wrong, we talk to each other and understand how the other person feels. I've never laughed and smiled so much in a relationship before. I've never felt so beautiful, so loved by someone, so wholeheartedly appreciated... and when I go to bed, I've never felt so happy to have someone holding me at night."

Sakura realized that she was rambling, and she was exposing more about her relationship with Kakashi than she had intended to, yet it felt okay to do so. Sai knew about the affair anyway, so she figured that there was no point in hiding it if revealing it felt so good.

And at the end of her ramble, she recognized that the gentle smile on her face had morphed into a full-blown grin. Her cheeks were hardened into a wide smile, her eyes fixed yet again on her loosened hands, her chest warm from fond memories.

Yet once again, Sai continued his seemingly detached exploration of Sakura's heart, asking questions that continued to send her in multiple directions as he fixed his attention onto the canvas.

"Do you still love Sasuke?"

The question floored her. She found herself reeling in panic, wondering how he could ask something so personal—except everything he had asked until now had been personal.

Perhaps it was just this question. She wasn't prepared to answer it. She didn't know if she could.

Her eyes slowly creeped up from her hands to watch Sai, whose entire concentration remained glued to his work. He didn't look angry. He didn't look like he was studying her, he just waited quietly as he painted diligently.

But as the seconds passed, the more unsettled she became. He was waiting, and Sakura felt that the longer she took to respond, the more suspicious she became.

She knew what she was supposed to say, what was expected to come out of her mouth, but the words seemed trapped.

All she could manage to croak was, "...He needs to change."

Even that left a bitter taste in her mouth, as if she wasn't sure that she wanted it either way.

"What if he can't?" Sai asked simply. Sakura felt uneasy about his demeanor, yet set at ease at the same time. It just seemed to her that Sai was objectively asking questions without any particular bias, even if they seemed to be loaded responses on her end.

"He has to," she whispered, her head dropping once more to stare at her lap. Her throat went dry. It felt as though she were spewing rehearsed answers, as if she was playing a role she didn't want to play.

"You were similar to him and you were able to change…" Sakura felt as though her pleading words were her defense, as though she were trying to prove that Sasuke was in the wrong, to justify what she had done to him.

"Ino didn't expect anything from me that I didn't already want from myself. I was changing on my own at that point. I wasn't set on revenge. I had emotions removed from me. Sasuke has always suffered from too much of it—to the point of rage."

"But that's too much of the wrong thing, especially when he had someone at home ready and willing to love him, Sai, to show him that there was more to the world than just pain! And he chose to stay away!" Sakura leaned forward in her chair and almost shrieked when she explained herself, yet Sai, as usual, seemed unaffected.

"But that's who you married," he said calmly, entirely unfazed by her show of emotion.

Sakura sighed and threw her head back, leaning once again on the backrest of her seat, causing it to creak as her weight shifted.

She exhaled, calming herself before continuing her explanation.

"I guess I didn't understand that that would be my reality. I really thought I could change him."

"Was that fair?"

And once again, Sai had said just a few words that sent Sakura reeling, her head jolting up in shock as he seemed to know the exact opposite of what Sakura was expecting.

"W-what do you mean?" she stuttered, not quite understanding how to handle Sai's blunt-edged words.

Sai's brush seemed to move fluidly across the canvas. He dipped his paintbrush in every color, swiping from left to right, up and down, not once looking away as he spoke impartially.

"I think that you are being unfair to yourself and to Sasuke."

Sakura felt her eyebrows scrunch into a tight knot across her forehead. She didn't understand. In the rare times that she did speak about her married life to someone else, not once had anyone ever told her that she was the one who was being unfair.

"I don't understand," she uttered, tilting her head as she watched Sai paint from the side.

"Have you ever heard the saying 'You are your own worst enemy?'"

Sakura's head jerked back. Even though she knew Sai wasn't attempting to insult her, she couldn't help but feel defensive in nature.

"Are you suggesting that it's my fault that I'm unhappy with my marriage?"

Finally, Sai put down the paintbrush onto the easel and put his hands onto his lap. He slowly turned his head, body stiff like a mannequin, only swiveling at his neck. Once he was looking at her, his lips curled into the slightest of smiles.

"Yes and no," he said plainly. "Marriage requires the participation of both parties. Sasuke played a role in your unhappiness as well as his, but you are playing a role in it as well."

"Because I cheated on him," she stated, finally feeling as though perhaps Sai was going to scold her for her actions.

"Not necessarily, though I would imagine that that plays a role as well."

Sai paused for a moment, scanning Sakura with what seemed to be an impassive eye that ironically made her feel as though Sai was peeling back layers of paint from her psyche.

"Because you expect Sasuke to hurt you, and because you expect it, he always does."

Sakura's mouth dropped, likely in an attempt to say something in defense, yet nothing came out.

"You want Sasuke to play a role that he's unable to fulfill. You said it yourself. He was your 'dream guy' when you were a young girl, but you also said that you fell in love with the unattainable because you wanted to save him."

Sakura could not say anything. She felt her eyebrows unfurling, her facial features relaxing as she stared at him wide-eyed.

"You did save him, but the results of saving him could never be what you were hoping for. Sasuke doesn't understand love like you do—it's not possible for him. Your problem lies in the use of the word unattainable. You knew it then and you know it now."

Sakura was in awe of her teammate and friend before her. This was the same Sai who understood nothing of social constructs when they met, yet had somehow transformed into one of the most adept individuals at analyzing situations and other people.

Sai. Sai of all people could see past her layers, observing her like some intricate painting that promised things on the surface yet hid a secretive meaning. Yet although she understood what Sai was telling her, she couldn't force her heart to stop feeling a sense of bitterness toward Sasuke—she couldn't help the wave of defensiveness rising in her chest that told her that he was at fault all along.

Sakura could not answer him. All she could do was stare at Sai in shock as the words because you expect Sasuke to hurt you, and because you expect it, he always does repeated over and over in her head.

Sai stood from the chair in one fluid motion. He made no sound, his movements light and furtive as any skilled shinobi's would be. Then he looked at Sakura with his classic shut-eyed smile.

Sakura looked up at him. Her body folded upwards into her chair and she wrapped her arms protectively around her knees as she waited for him to speak... or leave.

"When you go to school tomorrow, take this painting with you. I think it will get you the attention that we've been looking for."

He didn't wait for Sakura's response before he began to walk towards the doorway, his shoes hitting the floor without a single sound against the wood. She watched him go in anticipation.

She really had no reason to be upset with Sai; he had always been upfront and impartial, always objective, yet she really needed to be alone after what he had said.

She had to think about his words.

When his hand landed on the doorknob, he paused his movements and spoke.

"You are the subject of the painting and it is the most emotional piece you will bring to class yet. I used our conversation as inspiration. You may feel a little vulnerable when you reveal it to your instructor, but bear with it for the sake of the mission."

And then the door jerked open with a loud creak and the sound of dragging wood.

"I'm sorry if I dug too deep, Sakura. They'll return soon. I'll check on you tomorrow after your class."

And then he was gone.

Throughout the entire session, Sai's canvas had been tilted away from her. The only part of it visible had been the easel and the bones of the backside.

She had been curious all along, but she was too distracted by the conversation that they'd been having to lean over and look. Yet, now... with Sai's warning about the piece, the information that something in the piece would reveal her vulnerability, perhaps make her wildly uncomfortable, was frightening her.

She was afraid to look at it; perhaps just as afraid, if not more afraid, than she was when she was faced with Sayuri's original painting, the one Sayuri had said belonged to the one she loved.

Sakura sat on her chair holding her knees tightly, her cheeks pressing onto her knees, her eyebrows still crinkled at the center. She stared at the back of the piece in silence, wondering just what she would possibly see on the other side of it.

She shut her eyes and exhaled heavily to ready herself. She had to know. Slowly, Sakura let go of her knees and dropped the pads of her feet to the floor one at a time. As she lifted herself off of the wooden chair, she heard it creak as the weight was relieved from it. Each step she took around the table produced a thump until finally, all she heard was the sharp exhale of her own breath.

Sakura saw herself on that canvas in a sea of deep reds, but there wasn't just one Sakura, there were two. The likeness of present-day Sakura was there, shoulders naked, neck elongated, exposed, her hands clasping against her mouth as if to hold in a scream of frustration, tears running down her cheeks... but directly behind her was a Sakura long gone.

The young Sakura. The one who fell in love with Sasuke at the young age of eleven or twelve.

But she wasn't a welcoming sight.

Instead, young Sakura had her small hand tightly wrapped around older Sakura's neck, the other arm held straight over Sakura's eyes as its hand grasped onto the hair over her temple. Young Sakura looked as though she were restraining older Sakura, tilting her head back as she whispered what seemed like painful words into the ears of her present-day self.

And just like the image, she felt a sudden weight on her shoulders and her breath strangled in her throat.

Her eyes floated to the bottom right side of the canvas where a single word was painted in white: dreams.

She heard Sai's voice.

He was your 'dream guy' when you were a young teenager, but you also said that you fell in love with the unattainable because you wanted to save him.

A hot tear streamed down her cheek.

Your problem lies in the use of the word unattainable. You knew it then and you knew it now.

Sakura felt her lip tremble.

I think that you are being unfair to yourself and to Sasuke.

She finally understood what Sai was trying to tell her, and it took his painting for her to see it.

Sakura slumped into the chair that Sai once occupied, her hand flying to her chest as she bundled the fabric into a fist.

She stared blankly at the canvas, letting the message sink deep into her conscience, listening to the words that the colors spoke so clearly.

Have you ever heard the saying 'You are your own worst enemy?'

And she was… she knew it now.

The younger version of herself was holding her captive, promising things in her wedded life that never happened, but never allowing her to forget that it was supposed to.

That young girl and her dreams haunted Sakura. She was a phantom that never let go, and that phantom was leading Sakura to look for a Sasuke that didn't exist.

Once upon a time, when she was a girl, she had accepted that Sasuke had left, only slightly hoping for his return, even giving up on it entirely. Throughout his absence, through her doubt, she allowed an image of what Sasuke could have been to grow in her imagination — the thought likely kept her. The vision of her Sasuke must have grown to be so colossal, decked out with every romanticized characteristic of a man so unlike Sasuke that it could never have been possible for the real Sasuke to amount to her passionate illusion of happiness.

Unhappiness was inescapable. And the moment Sasuke hinted at returning home, the moment he had given her a tiny poke-on-the-forehead of hope, her illustrious, evasive Sasuke died and her ghostly vision of her dream Sasuke had resurrected in his place.

She was in love with a dream.

The signs were there. He would escape. He wouldn't reciprocate. He wouldn't engage her in conversation. But he'd offer a slight smirk, or he'd let her take his hand, and that one give would feel like a monumental achievement. There he is, she'd tell herself, if only she'd held on longer. If only she'd work a little bit more, she'd be able to dig her dream Sasuke out of the grave recesses of her mind that kept him hostage and bring him into reality.

And just when she thought her dream had been realized—when he had agreed to marry her at her urging, yet seemingly passive, suggestion—nothing else in the world could have amounted to or surpassed that deceptive victory.

Everything that followed the height of marriage would only, and inevitably, lead to the harrowing disappointment of realizing that her dream Sasuke had been the illustriously elusive one all along.

He was just a projection, a figment of her imagination.

And the real Sasuke could never fulfill that role.

Yet for so long, Sakura had allowed her childhood love, her childhood dream, to pervade her adult reality, shielding her eyes from the truth that had been in front of her all this time.

Because you expect Sasuke to hurt you, and because you expect it, he always does.

Sai was right.

When Sasuke came home, she would never allow herself to be happy because she was too consumed with the idea that he would leave again. She never allowed herself to see that maybe he was trying to the best of his ability, and maybe his best just wasn't compatible with her.

Sasuke doesn't understand love like you do—it's not possible for him.

The dreams of that phantom Sakura had been blinding her...

Ino didn't expect anything from me that I didn't already want from myself.

For a moment, she saw her best friend's smiling face, her blond hair swaying behind her, the happiness radiating from her face each time she spoke of her child and of her husband.

Sakura had always wanted that for herself, and she was admittedly envious of her friend's marriage.

But Sakura was expecting something from Sasuke that perhaps he never truly wanted for himself; family life could never suit the infamous Uchiha Sasuke. She was foolish to ever think it would.

Sakura's slouching body slid down the back of the chair, her bottom dragging to the edge of the seat until the base of her head hit the back rest. She leaned her head backwards so that she could stare at the ceiling, tears streaming down the sides of her face.

It was time to let her phantoms go… but for some reason, she was struggling to let that image of her dream Sasuke dissolve. She didn't want to, because letting that Sasuke disappear would be the same as accepting that almost everything about her life was like living a lie…

Everything except Sarada.

And when her daughter's smiling face flashed across her mind, the girl that looked so much like her father, she couldn't help the sob that escaped her throat.

It seemed that the sharingan was not the only painful inheritance that Sarada received from her parentage…

Sakura's phantoms had latched themselves onto Sarada too. Even she had dreams that her father would become someone that he'd never be.

Sakura was so afraid, so so afraid of letting go, so mournful for the loss of her dream Sasuke that Sakura had foolishly passed on to their child.

"I'm so sorry, Sarada!" she cried aloud, raising her hands to clasp over her mouth as she sobbed in the chair, eyes clenched tight in an attempt to hold back her pouring tears.

And she was sorry. This time, not for the affair, but for all of the false dreams she had planted in her daughter, for all of the hopes that would never come to fruition, for the painful reality she knew she'd have to confront her daughter with when she returned home.

A/N: This chapter was originally meant to have more, but I felt like adding another scene to it would have taken away the weight of Sakura's revelation. Even my husband said not to add to it and said, "this chapter has to be about her."

He's right! This is an integral chapter for Sakura and her marriage.

Writing this story is getting a lot harder to write actually, and I feel like it's because I'm delving into much deeper layers of their psychology (or so I think). Regardless, I'm having fun and I can't wait to keep going, even to write about the mission!

Thank you all for your continued support. I'm so genuinely happy that people are enjoying this story despite the heavier themes going on. And I'm even happier that so many of you understand what I'm trying to do with Sasuke's character, even we're all here for the KakaSaku pair (same tbh). You keep me writing. 3