Sunblind
pt 1: sunrise, three days

The hawk wasn't from this region. That's what stood out to Sakura the most as she glanced out of her bedroom window, towel drying her hair. When she'd left the shower, she found the bird perched on the railing of her fire escape, ruffling feathers too sleek and dark to blend in with the forests surrounding Konoha. It seemed to watch over the lights of the village in the growing twilight.

With a yawn, her thoughts turned back to patient charts and treatment plans, the pile of laundry waiting to be folded on her bed. She turned on the bedside lamp, an absentminded part of her brain trying to recall knowledge of bird migration patterns.

Tap, tap.

Sakura slowed the movement of her towel. The bird had shifted to her windowsill, its curious face peering inside. A small leather canister was hanging from its knobbled leg. Again, it raised its beak to tap on the glass.

No one sent her messages by hawk these days. She hoisted the window up. Maybe the bird would realize it had arrived at the wrong destination and fly away. Instead, it offered its leg out. When Sakura finally understood, and reached out to untie the canister, the bird let out a soft coo of approval.

The knot was complex and tight, but she made quick work of it. Kakashi had taught this technique to her as a genin—to all three of them. On a hot and sticky day between missions, when their sensei had no other ideas to fill the afternoon, they hunched outside the Academy and practiced for hours. Naruto never quite got it down, Sasuke seemingly picked it up with half a glance. It was a reminder of far simpler, kinder times. Before the team had splintered apart.

The hawk stared expectantly, waiting for her to look inside. But something made her pause. Kakashi himself had invented this style of knot, and she didn't know anyone else who used it. But she had run into both Naruto and her old mentor earlier that day. Why would either of them send a messenger hawk to her window?

It had to be one of them, because the other option didn't make sense. No one had heard from Sasuke in five years. Not since he'd deserted the village and disappeared.

Sakura thought a lot about that still summer night, the last conversation she had with him—the last time anyone had ever seen him. She replayed the memory over and over, trying to remember every word. She imagined other scenarios where she'd tried harder, said the right words to convince him to stay. Where she'd been enough. It was where her thoughts inevitably drifted when she closed her eyes at night, as much a part of her ritual of sleep as dreaming. She'd thought about it so many times, it felt more like a dream than anything.

But Sakura was not dreaming as she snapped open the canister, retrieving the message furled within.

where the river splits

sunrise, three days

come alone

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For the first two years, the only news they had about Sasuke came in scraps. They knew he was alive, because they thought they would know if he wasn't. Then, after Anbu agents lost track of both Orochimaru and Itachi, they knew something had happened. The two people connected to Sasuke were gone without a trace, and he remained nowhere to be found.

Then an Anbu squad brought back intel about the location of Orchimaru's lair. By then, the information on the snake Sannin was drying up, but his attack on the village was still heavy on everyone's mind. The village council wanted firm answers on his whereabouts. It didn't take much convincing for Sakura and Naruto to land a spot on the survey team.

When they discovered the hideout, it was clear no one had wandered its halls in a while. Some areas were flooded, others caved in with rock. Water dripped from the ceiling, and the air smelled like mildew and things that only grew underground.

Searching through the winding halls, Sakura found one small chamber with a slanted ceiling. It was close to a courtyard sunken in the cliffs, one of the only areas of the hideout that reached fresh air and sun. She was seated on the ground as Naruto entered, downcast.

"The team's getting ready to leave. Let's get out of here."

"Out of all these rooms, don't you think he would have picked this one?"

Naruto dropped next to her. "You think so? Why?"

"It's close to the sun." That, and the placement of the futon—it lay tucked close to the wall, out of line from the entrance, the way he would have liked it. But nothing else said the space belonged to Sasuke, and it didn't matter anyway. He wasn't here.

"Do you think he's..." Naruto bit off the end of his sentence.

Sakura studied their surroundings, looking for anything that could give her a clue. The drawers to an old dresser were picked clean, as if someone had packed away all their belongings and left, not at all in a hurry. It fit with the scenario Sakura was repeating in her head, over and over, to keep herself calm. Something had happened to Orochimaru. And Sasuke had chosen to leave.

She never believed what some people were saying, that he had simply died quietly—she couldn't.

"He's out there somewhere," she said. "I know it."

And she was right. A year later they started to hear rumors of his whereabouts—vague and contradictory, nothing substantial to go by. He was traveling north through the mountain pass between Fire and Snow. He was in the west, spotted near Suna. But he never stayed in one place long enough to be found. He moved more like a ghost, a legend, than a person.

Sakura told herself it was enough, just to know he was still alive. She learned how to live on nothing to go by. The ache of worrying, of wondering, dulled slightly over time. But it was ceaseless, never quite going away.

Then she held his note in her hands—and just like that, he was in reach.

Sakura shivered, the night air spilling into her room now uncomfortably cold on her damp hair. But she couldn't move. Her eyes kept tracing over the familiar handwriting, more careful than she remembered. A blot of ink stained the page near the end of the first line, like he'd hesitated too long before penning the rest of the words.

She knew the protocol she should follow. Report the note to the proper channels, let the Anbu and the council and Hokage handle it in whatever way they handled rogue shinobi, and wipe her hands of the affair. If not that, then at least rip the note to shreds and pretend she had never seen it. Under no circumstances should she meet alone with him.

Instead, Sakura closed her fist around the roll of paper—gently, so as not to crush it—and held it to her chest.

.

.

The sliver of the moon rose against a black sky. It was the third night, and if Sakura was going to leave, she needed to decide now.

The days had passed slowly, agonizingly. Sakura no longer replayed a stale memory in her head as she waited for sleep. Instead she anxiously flitted back and forth between what to do. Some moments she was sure she wouldn't be able to stand the sight of him. He had left them and let years pass without even a word. It was better if she forgot him. Other moments, she felt afraid. He was a rogue nin, someone who had chosen to follow an enemy of the village. That made him an enemy too. Nothing good would come from this meeting. What if he tried to hurt her?

Or what if he needed help?

Sakura threw off her covers. Working quickly, she dressed in her normal medic gear—pinning the badge to her lapel, even restocking the bandages in her bag—as if truly about to set off on a medical assignment. Finally she pulled on her cloak, a comforting and worn garment that always seemed to prepare her mind for travel. But something still felt off.

The way each shinobi approached weapons, from selecting, to cleaning, to storing them, was said to be a reflection of themselves. Sakura preferred to store hers beneath her bed. Far enough out of sight to provide some peace of mind, but within reach if needed. She felt for the roll of cloth she knew she would find behind her left bedpost. The cloth unfurled in a silent whisper, and an array of sharp blades gleamed up at her. If she wanted, she could have brought them all, strapped to limbs or hidden in her medic bag.

Hesitating, she selected a single kunai. Just in case.

Leaving the village undetected was easier than Sakura thought it would be. She'd prepared so methodically that she felt half-convinced that she was setting out as a medical envoy to a neighboring village. She felt almost nothing as she stifled her chakra and snuck past the gate and into the woods.

She told herself it was on behalf of the village—checking on the state of a political adversary, a dangerous rogue nin. She could bring valuable information back to village leaders. She could justify it in endless ways. Really, her motives were simple, and selfish. She wanted to see him, real and solid, with her own eyes.

Traveling through the night, she found the bend of the river as the sun rose. Straight ahead, the pine trees were thinning out into a clearing. At the edge of the forest, a blinding ray of morning sun hit Sakura's eyes. She blinked sunspots away, and suddenly, she could see what was before her—a head of dark hair beside a fire.

Sasuke's head was turned, fixed on something deep in the forest. The collar of his cloak dipped down, exposing his nape, the jagged line of dark hair brushing the first two notches of his spine.

"Oh," she breathed, the syllable falling softly from her mouth. He had grown up.

Sasuke's head cocked slightly, as if he had heard, but he didn't turn. She'd gotten what she'd really wanted—to see him in the flesh, outside of her dreams. She could leave now and none would be the wiser.

Then Sasuke's gaze caught hers. A quiet gleam grew in his eyes, something like satisfaction, or triumph. It was as if he could see all the turmoil she'd been through, and had known all along that she would come.

"Ah," he muttered, his voice low, but ringing out clearly as if he was speaking straight into her ear. "It's Sakura."

There was no going back anymore. Sakura pulled down her hood and crossed into the clearing.

Sasuke rose slowly to his feet. He still carried himself the same way—elegant, unhurried. A slender katakana lay propped against a log near the fire. Wary, Sakura braced herself for the worst, but he didn't reach for it. He didn't appear on guard at all. Maybe all he wanted was to talk.

"Sasuke…" Despite the years, his name sounded incomplete without the affectionate ending. She was at a loss for words.

He was much taller than her now. The angles of his face were sharper, his hair wilder. He'd always been beautiful to Sakura's eyes, and that hadn't changed. But now his beauty was more like a storm—turbulent, captivating. His gaze drifted over her, and Sakura wondered with a thumping heart what he saw, whether she was being subjected to a similar scrutiny.

Instead, he asked, "What's that mark?"

Sakura blinked in surprise. "What?"

"The diamond mark," he repeated, not impatiently. "What is it?"

Sakura's hand flew to her brow. "It's the yin seal." She was too shocked to be anything but honest. "I learned the technique from Tsunade-shishou. She trained me in medical ninjutsu."

"I know." Her confusion must have shown on her face, because he spoke again. "I heard that you're a medic nin."

Before she could wonder how and why Sasuke had heard of her affairs, he fired off another question. "What is Kakashi doing?"

"Well, the same," she managed. "Anbu missions, no more students."

There was a miniscule pause. "And the dobe?"

"He's training hard, as always."

He looked unsatisfied with her answer, but didn't press. Sakura felt off kilter. She'd run through so many scenarios in her head, preparing to face coldness or cunning. She never expected simple curiosity.

"He's angry with you. He's still itching for a fight," she added, unthinking. Because it was true.

Sasuke huffed out a short breath—mostly a scoff, concealing a touch of amusement. This was the closest he ever got to a laugh. When they were younger, it was always a triumph whenever she or Naruto managed to get that sound out of him. To hear it now was a shock. He was here, he was alive, in front of her, laughing out that non-laugh, after years without a word, and suddenly Sakura was nearly shaking with anger.

"What are you doing here?" How dare he pop up like it was nothing?

Sasuke calmly watched her anger brew, so unaffected it made her furious. "I wanted to talk."

"Just like that? After five years?" Her throat felt so thick she could barely speak. "Five years. We almost thought you were dead. We were so—" She broke off. Worried. But she didn't like how vulnerable it would sound. She felt safe in her anger, in control.

She fixed Sasuke with her coldest look. "What could you possibly want to talk about?"

Sasuke's head jerked to the side, face turning with a scowl—finally she'd broken his composure. His collar drooped with the sudden movement, revealing the smooth and unmarred skin of his throat, no curse mark in sight.

Sakura would never forget the horror of watching Orochimaru bite the mark into the crook of his neck. When he pulled his teeth out of him, Sakura saw they had punctured so deep she thought he would die from that alone. And now there was no trace.

Feeling her gaze, Sasuke's shoulder twitched, like trying to shake off a shiver. Sakura's fury relented. "What happened to the mark?"

"It's been gone for a long time."

"Did Orochimaru decide to remove it?"

Sasuke's face changed then, the crease between his brow deepening. "No. Itachi did."

"Itachi…" she repeated, trying to place the name, until it hit her with a rush of dread and unease. Never before had she heard Sasuke mention his older brother by name. She'd only heard the name Itachi spoken in whispers, alongside rumors of what happened the night of the Uchiha massacre. It felt like she'd just breached something. "What's happened? Why did you ask me to come here?"

Sasuke looked somewhere down and to the left of her face. "I learned something about my clan's massacre. About Itachi. It wasn't...it wasn't a random act of violence." His lips remained parted open, like the words were lodged in his throat, and his eyes were distant, somewhere else entirely. "The village council forced his hand. They were behind it all."

The wind died, sending the forest into a hushed stillness.

"I don't understand." Sakura shivered as a strange buzz sounded in her ears, like a wasp flying too close. "Why would they do that?"

Could it really be true?

She looked at Sasuke's face and saw everything she needed to know. He believed it could be—enough to break years of silence, and risk traveling so close to the village, just to find out.

"With our bloodline trait, my clan was growing too powerful. We were becoming a threat to the village's power. So they eliminated the threat. At least, this is what I was told," he finished simply. "I need you to find out the truth."

"Who told you this?"

"That's not important. I just need to know if it's true." When she didn't respond, he pressed on, indignation almost hiding the desperate note to his voice. "You're the only one I could ask to do this, Sakura—"

"What about Itachi?" Why couldn't he seek the truth from his brother?

Sasuke turned away. "He's dead."

He let out an exhale so raw that Sakura flinched. It wasn't a sound meant for her ears.

"Before I even knew to ask—he died." His face looked torn, flooded with anger and bitterness. And underneath it all, grief.

One realization echoed in Sakura's mind above all the others, quiet but cutting deep. He is alone.

It was Sasuke's turn to be angry. Lip curling, he spat, "Are you going to help me or not?"

Sakura had known from the moment she laid eyes on him sitting in the patch of sunlight that she couldn't refuse anything he asked of her.

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Notes:

I'm back with another multi chapter (my longest yet)! this story has been a long time in the making. I hope you enjoy and your thoughts/comments/feedback is appreciated!

thank you to zo/hyperph0nic for your extremely helpful feedback on the first chapter!