A/N: Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!
Chapter 26: Two Weeks Later
Two whole weeks. Two whole, painstakingly slow weeks had passed. And Shien wasn't any closer to finding out any incriminating information about the royal family.
If this whole operation wasn't so damn important, she would've already called it quits. Naruto, as bubbly as he always seemed to be, was a pest some days, and she'd seen enough brooding from Sasuke to want a permanent vacation in Yugakure (the locals were always so nice to her this time of year).
Unfortunately for her, the servant girl had been right about Naruto causing havoc around the castle. The second day she was there, she'd caught him in the middle of mixing ink into a particularly-disliked guard's shampoo bottle. Granted, she understood why he'd do it, but she still had to scold him and personally deliver a brand-new bottle to the guard with an apology for the boy's behavior. Thankfully for her, the guard was really chill about it, having been around long enough to witness some of Naruto's bigger pranks, and simply laughed it off as he accepted the new bottle.
The boys were careful not to bring up her (well, Sakura's) death around her, but late at night, if she stayed eavesdropping at the prince's door, she could hear him discussing it with Naruto. And boy, if it didn't sting her heart before, hearing him talk about her death with a voice quiet with despair made her want to cry herself to sleep.
Speaking of the prince, ever since he first met her (Shien) on that day, he'd been distant and weird. Oh sure, she couldn't expect him to be the same happy person he was when they were, like, seven, but for heaven's sake, she desperately wished he'd at least crack a joke around her. He was like a rain cloud that refused to stop hovering over a picnic. He probably didn't mean to be a Debby Downer, but his attitude said otherwise.
Still, she persisted with him. If she knew him as well as she thought she had, then all he needed was some patience and he would eventually soften. And what do you know, she was right.
It took her a few days of hanging around the boys for him to finally mention her by name and not as just 'Hayashi-san'. When he'd first said her name, he paused, as if surprised he even said it, but at that point she was already awaiting his command, so he just shrugged it off and asked if she could get him a fresh towel from the linen closet. She'd done it as quickly as she could (damned if she said she didn't crave his silent kindness), and just like that, a shaky little 'friendship' had been planted between them, and he never referred to her as 'Hayashi-san' again.
Each morning, she'd awaken at around four-thirty and go around, getting ready for the day. At six AM, she'd awaken the prince with a fresh washcloth and a basin of water. Naruto would already be up as well, rattling off the things that Sasuke needed to do for that day.
At that point, she'd leave the two of them so that the prince could dress himself, and she would wait so that she could get breakfast with them (it was one thing that Naruto was extremely insistent on, and Sasuke didn't really seem to object). The queen was a lovely, cheerful woman in the mornings, always greeting her with a smile as they waited for their breakfast. Fugaku, bless his heart, tried to be cordial, but it was apparent that he was awkward around her, probably because he'd basically delegated her to being his son's personal maid (and functionally, a live-in girlfriend, if Naruto's teasing was accurate), but she didn't really mind it. Honestly, she was just as awkward around him as he was with her, given that at one point she'd seriously daydreamt of being his daughter-in-law (in more ways than one).
The worst part of it, she reflected grimly, were the nightmares.
Ever since she'd first spoken to Sasuke again, ever since she first lay eyes on her childhood sweetheart after six years apart, it seemed as if the emotions she'd so carefully locked away for so long had started to seep through the cracks. Nearly every night, she would awaken several times from nightmares of that day in the village.
Most of it, perhaps, could be guilt. She reasoned that the guilt of leaving behind her family and friends could be influencing her memories in some way. But then again, just the shock of being in Sasuke's presence again could have been influencing it, too; the boy didn't seem to realize just what a shock it was to be sitting with him at lunch, sipping tea and discussing the rest of the week's weather with Naruto. When it did hit her, she had to leave the room so that he wouldn't see her cry.
More than once, she had been sorely tempted to just come clean with everything. To sit with him on his bed, his room candlelit in the darkening night sky, tearfully recounting every single event that had culminated in taking her away from her home felt like some kind of catharsis. Sakura would spend hours upon hours dreaming up scenarios where she would finally break down and confess. Sasuke would be shocked, and more than a little angry, but at the end of it all, they would embrace and he would either agree to take down his family with her, or they would run away together in the dead of the night.
But the rational side of her heart argued that, if she really did confess her true identity, Sasuke would no doubt immediately alert his parents, and just like that, the jig would be up. She would be arrested and charged with high treason, and most likely executed. With her gone, they would no doubtedly find and kill the rest of the rebels, and who knows what would happen to Konoha as a result.
Perhaps it was for the best that he didn't know. She sighed quietly, shifting her gloomy gaze from the courtyard to where Sasuke sat at his desk, focused on scribbling away on important documents. She couldn't imagine what a shock it would be if he ever realized just who she was. To have someone you loved and thought was dead, now standing before you, very much alive and very much your enemy?
No, she decided, turning her gaze back to the window. For now, she would go through with the plan as instructed. And maybe, just maybe, once it was all over, she would finally give Sasuke his long-overdue apology.
On the flip side of the coin, Sasuke felt awkward and disheartened by the arrival of the girl. The past month had been a rollercoaster of emotions, and while he should have been glad to have someone else around, he found it increasingly difficult to try and befriend her.
Naruto was easy; he was always itching for someone new to latch onto, someone to befriend. He'd always been adept at making even the most dour break from their shells for him. (One, in particular, that he remembered, was the old captain of the royal guard, a sour old man in his late fifties. In the span of three weeks, Naruto had managed to worm his way into the sourpuss's heart. To this day, the now-retired man sends gifts every so often.)
But Sasuke had learned, through years of pain, whether from his father becoming crueler to his friends, to his brother's betrayal, to guard himself. You never knew just who would be standing in the hall. It could be a selfish diplomat, or a charming assassin. It could also be... someone familiar.
Shien stumped him, she really did. She had a haunted look in her eye, almost as if she'd been through hell and back more times than one could count on their right hand. She was careful to hide her feelings, although her eyes often betrayed how she truly felt. She was careful, but she also flinched every time someone stepped towards her too quickly.
Somewhere, deep in his heart, he pondered what Sakura would have done, had she been alive. What would she look like? What would she sound like?
It disturbed him just how much she resembled his late friend. From the way she scrunched up her nose when she was confused, to the gentle way she spoke to Naruto, in an almost motherly way. Her eyes would soften when he talked about the past, and an almost morose smile would be hinted in the way her lips twitched.
In some instances, if he glanced towards her too quickly for a second, he swore he could see Sakura sitting there, albeit with a much more normal-sized forehead, narrower eyes, and a healthy fullness and shine to her face. He could see her strawberry tresses, her shining peridot eyes, and her pretty pink smile. But in the next moment, she would be gone, replaced with a girl who looked much the same, but unfortunately, was not her.
This girl had soft, voluminous cotton candy hair, always put up in a bun, not long, thin strawberry-blonde strands of hair that reached her knees. This girl had deep, pained emerald irises, not the brighter, innocent peridot that beheld childish innocence and wonder. This girl was older, wiser, somber, than his happy, bubbly childhood friend.
There seemed to be an omnipresent sadness that surrounded her, although she never divulged anything about her past. Shien was a mystery, one that Sasuke was determined to solve.
What could she be? A long-lost twin, perhaps? A rare example of having a doppelganger somewhere else in the world?
He remembered a legend that his mother had told him and Itachi, a long, long time ago, back when they were both young children. From a different, happier time. A legend of a woman with long, soft pink hair, of one with eyes like fresh-cut grass, of skin like porcelain. One with a peculiar diamond in the middle of her forehead, the color of a healer's chakra.
His mother had called her 'love taken corporeal form', and he remembered how he used to turn up his nose at the term, calling it 'stupid'. Itachi would smile fondly, ruffling his hair, asking his mother to go on.
Emi, he recalled. Emi Fujiyama, the matriarchal ancestor of the Uchiha clan, one one for whom the Mountain of Lavender Flowers was named. That same mountain was one of a few that overlooked Konoha, the one that was said to be the place she and his ancestor Indra had met and had married a couple of hundred years before.
Now he found himself looking more at the long, beautiful, sacred tapestries that hung in the great hall, the ones that told the story of the tragedy of Indra and Emi. Star-crossed lovers that would end up causing a war between brothers that would persist for a century. Every time he gazed upon her carefully-stitched face, he was reminded of Shien.
What if... she was Emi's reincarnation? It wouldn't be impossible; Indra had been one of Sasuke's couldn't-count-how-many-great-grandfathers, after all. Perhaps the Hayashi family had dealings with the Fujiwara after Emi's death. Perhaps...
He shook his head, going back to reading his letter in the candlelight. It was one of Sakura's last letters to him before her death, the neat, yet scrawly handwriting making his heart ache with grief. He couldn't allow himself to make such judgements yet, no matter how much she unknowingly unearthed the past. Besides, his nineteenth birthday was coming fast, and his father was growing more desperate to find him a queen. If he was to ascend the throne, he would have to be married. The search for, if any existed, a way to find Sakura again would have to wait for now.
A/N: A new perspective from Sasuke's point of view!
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