Chapter 3: Like Spring

In the darkness of the prison cell, with no sight of sunrise or sunset, Sasuke had lost track of the days.

Then, exhaustion from hunger and fighting off the infection put him in and out of consciousness. He could no longer tell minutes from hours, hours from days. In the fever dreams, he saw a landscape of stars surrounding the bleeding, bloated moon. Beneath them, he saw fallen bodies on the battlefield, their starlit eyes wide open. If they mocked death or death mocked them, he couldn't tell.

Sometimes he heard Naruto screaming. No longer the cries of a child, but hoarse, ugly wailing; the mourning of a man. Other times he heard his family. His father sighed and his mother murmured, but Itachi remained stone-still and silent. Itachi's silence was always the loudest.

Intrusive dreams while he slept, infected thoughts once he woke: Sasuke was trapped in his mind as much as he was trapped in the prison.

At first, he couldn't say when or how often Sakura came to his cell. When she said "Good morning, Sasuke-kun", he thought of the limitless blue of a cloudless sky during daytime. If she asked him, "How was your day?", he would force himself to remember the dim gold of dusk's last light before the true dark of night. But sometimes she only smiled or nodded to greet him and he was left to guess.

After Sakura realized he only ate what she hand-delivered, she brought him enough food to fill a basket. She portioned it into sets of three and set them aside for him to eat later. He wasn't sure if it was the fourth or fifth delivery that he put aside his pride and thanked her.

Sasuke never heard her speak to the guards, but she must have given them instructions to leave once she arrived. It afforded him a sense of privacy he hadn't realized he needed. Thankfully, her inquiries were polite but rhetorical; she immediately went to work on his injury, chatting as she evaluated his vitals, prattling on as healing chakra flooded through him. No matter how much pain or discomfort his arm caused him before she arrived, by the time she left, it'd be an afterthought.

Sakura knew everyone and everything. She told stories about the people of Konoha like she was reciting an oath, excited by insignificant events, committed to every minor detail. Sasuke could care less about them or their lives, but the more she spoke, the more he remembered. The kids- no, they weren't kids anymore- from the other squads. How Naruto preferred his ramen, who it was prepared by. The father and daughter who once made him his own bowls: Teuchi and Ayame. How Kakashi was always late and always distracted, one hand on his book, the other tucked into his pocket. A façade of carelessness that Sasuke only recently understood hid a lurking lethality beneath.

Only once had she mentioned his clan's massacre. After that, Sakura never talked about anything important or anyone of importance. He wasn't sure that he wanted her to.

No one else came to see him. He didn't have to ask or be told to understand that no one else was allowed. Strange as it was, Sakura was the Hokage's apprentice. She held a special status in the village.

After her visits, he'd be healed, fed, and hydrated, then ready to sleep. He felt like a child. Like a fucking toddler, Sasuke thought bitterly. But at least he stopped slipping out of consciousness and started choosing when to sleep. It was the one thing he had control over in that damned cell.

Though his blindfold had been removed, there still wasn't much to see. No window, no fire, no light. Waking up was sometimes darker than staying asleep. The only splash of color came from the food Sakura left in a line on the opposite wall of his small cell. Blue bowls with porcelain lids, red tomatoes, orange cloth napkins, fresh water in a mustard yellow mug. He stared at the ensemble of prismatic colors and tried to remember the rest. It was always three sets, three meals. Morning, noon and night.

Once a day, he realized. She's here every day.

Sasuke started to count the days again.

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Silence rang throughout the operating room; deafening, throbbing pulses of silence. It stretched on, tense and endless, while Sakura stared at the EKG monitor beside her. She didn't need to read the results. Her hands still remained in place, chakra stubbornly flared; a futile attempt to do what cardiopulmonary resuscitation would not. She felt the flatline before the machine flashed it on the screen.

No one moved. The aura of soft green chakra gradually diminished from Sakura's hands, held stiller than a statue, but her mind reeled. No ventricular contractions. Asystolic readings. Even with the blood transfusions, injury repair, and surgical intervention, there was total absence of electrical activity in the heart. No electricity, no tissue contractions from the heart muscle. No contractions, no blood flow to the rest of the body. No blood flow, no life. As simple as that, really.

It wasn't that simple.

Iko cleared his throat. "Sakura-sensei?"

Sakura continued to stare at the monitor. There, on the screen, the final rhythm strip. Three beats of normal sinus rhythm, the familiar V-shaped spikes of a living, pumping heart. But then an atrial beat. Then asystole, the flatline, the silence and the stillness beneath her hands. Sakura remained as quiet and immobile as the dead patient's heart.

"You have to call it, Sakura-sensei," Iko murmured.

No one moved. No one wheeled away the monitor. No one took their hands off the blood-soaked gauze. No one reached for a standard medical cloth to drape over the patient.

"She's- she's just a child," Sakura said instead, finally looking away from the EKG screen and down onto the surgical table.

Red-red-red. She didn't notice in the earlier mayhem, but blood was everywhere. How could there be so much blood from such a small girl? Medical training and hundreds of hours in the OR failed to explain it to her. She couldn't make sense of it. There was just so much red.

Iko didn't answer, and neither did any of the other nurses.

Sakura eventually lifted her hands. They were covered in blood, dripping with it.

She forced herself to look at the analog clock on the wall opposite from her. Positioned perfectly, primed and prepared for her. For moments like this one.

Sakura swallowed. "Time of death. 3:05 AM."

She kept her eyes on the clock, watched as the second hand steadily ticked on; unhindered by what occurred, cold and indifferent to the circumstances it presided over.

Iko's required follow-up was a quiet prompt, barely a question. "Cause of death?"

Sakura could have sworn the entire world stopped, but the clock continued to tick. The second hand moved on, even when she couldn't.

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She could best describe her relationship with Shizune as cordial. There was mutual respect, professional acknowledgement, a rhythm of camaraderie thanks to the necessity of splitting hospital shifts. There was also every unspoken conversation and an unavoidable tension, though. Sakura was younger, but she was stronger. She was better.

Still, it was Shizune who came to find her after the surgery, Tonton tucked carefully to her chest. Sakura remained seated on the floor of her office, staring down between her legs instead of acknowledging her visitor.

Shizune frowned.

"You need to have a safe place to go, to get away from it," Shizune advised carefully. "And- I don't mean here. It shouldn't be here."

Sakura looked around her office, seeing it through her colleague's eyes. A pile of dirty clothes tucked beside her metal filing cabinet. The thin, hospital-stock pillow and blankets arranged haphazardly on the broken sofa. Her well-organized patient charts and stacks of paperwork sharing space with her mess of toiletries, a glob of mint toothpaste smudged against her desk.

A safe place? Sakura tried to consider at least one, but the more she tried to step onto the certainty of one, it felt less like a foundation and more like quicksand shifting beneath her feet.

She'd lived in her own place for less than a year. She was proud of it, but if she did the math, she was certain she'd spent more hours on the training grounds than in her own apartment. Her parents weren't in Konoha. Even if they were, she wouldn't have gone to them. The Yamanaka Flower Shop was temporarily closed while Ino and her family grieved. Tsunade-sama may have been her mentor, but she was also the Hokage; her shishou had a thousand other burdens to bear. Sakura wouldn't put another one on her shoulders.

A stroll through the village was out of the question. The sight of the reconstruction efforts were as jarring as her memories of its destruction. The only time she spent with Shikamaru was for a Sunday game of shogi; she wasn't in the mood for shogi, and it wasn't Sunday. Hinata and Tenten were kunoichi she'd call friends, but really, they never had serious conversations between them.

She thought of Team Seven, or at least, whatever semblance was left of them.

Years had passed since she'd been to Naruto or Kakashi's homes. She was fairly sure she'd never even been past the front door of her old sensei's apartment, and the only thing she remembered about Naruto's place was the old milk and mess. The idea of tracking them down in an unfamiliar place before it was dawn wasn't a bad one, it was just a foreign one. Too foreign to consider doing. Sasuke-... well, regardless of what she'd call Sasuke, he was in a prison cell. She didn't know where Sai or Yamato lived.

Too much time had passed without Sakura answering. Shizune was about to say something else, and Sakura wasn't sure it would help to hear it.

"You're right," Sakura said quickly. "I will. Thank you, Shizune."

Shizune nodded, seemingly satisfied. She and Tonton made to leave, the older woman offering one last lingering look. Sakura studied the door as it came to close.

At the last second, she called out. "Wait, Shizune."

Shizune cradled Tonton with one arm and pushed the door back open with her other. She looked to Sakura kindly, brows lifted. "Yeah?"

Sakura knew then that Shizune genuinely wanted to help her, but that wasn't why Sakura called her back.

"Are you sure?" Sakura asked, struggling to talk over the lump in her throat. "You're sure there's no next-of-kin to notify?"

Surprise flashed over Shizune's features briefly. "I'm sure. I checked myself. Both her parents were shinobi. They- they didn't make it back from the war. There's no other family listed in their records, either."

Sakura said nothing, then nodded. "Alright. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Shizune tried to smile encouragingly. "Go get some rest, Sakura."

Instead of lying to her a second time, Sakura only tried to smile back.

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She had chakra to spare and time to waste. Sakura used her teleportation jutsu to return home. She showered under the steaming hot water until it ran cold. She prepared meals without paying attention, uncertain if she'd added the seasonings or not, convinced she'd already chopped onion until she looked over and saw it on the counter, whole and untouched. She threw it all out and started over again. Idly aware the results wouldn't be much better than her first attempt, she filled bowls and packed a basket, not bothering to set aside any for herself.

Dawn arrived slowly, until the subtle end of darkness became a splash of neon pink and striking gold. Sakura looked at the signs of sunrise through her window instead of referring to her clock. It was earlier than she usually went to provide Sasuke's medical treatment, but seeing as she was effectively barred from the hospital and without a reserved training ground, she had nothing else to do. At least, nothing else that could distract her. Sakura grabbed the basket and went to the specialized ANBU prison. There would be no red in Sasuke's cell.

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He heard her before he saw her. Without access to his own network, he couldn't sense Sakura's chakra, but by now he knew the sound of her steps. From his peripheral, he first saw the unmistakable rose petal-pink of her hair, then the two ANBU that flanked her. The guards timed their release of his cell doors to let her in and promptly left.

Sasuke said nothing. He continued to silently count out the next set of his workout. The length of his cell was barely the length of him, but it was just enough for him to lay down and stretch out. He used his good arm to hold his half-limb into his chest as he made his way through thirty reps of abdominal crunches.

Sakura's disapproval was palpable. She made a strangling sort of sound that finished as a huff.

He ignored it.

She stood over him and looked down, frowning. "You're supposed to be resting."

Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Sasuke glanced up. Her unbound hair fell forward as she stared down at him, her heart-shaped face like a floating head. Her furrowed brows and petulant stare only emphasized how exhausted she looked. There were shadows under her eyes the color of first-day bruises.

Between the inhale of crunches, he answered. "So are you."

Surprise wiped the disapproval clean off her face. She stepped away, but the cement wall of his cell met her back. A few seconds passed before she huffed again, this time without any real irritation.

Sakura slid down the wall and settled into a seat. She gave no additional signs of disapproval, just dropped the basket to her side and crossed her legs.

Sasuke finished his third set. He considered stopping completely instead of pausing, but a cursory glance at Sakura showed her distractedly looking out his cell and seemingly in no rush. He didn't think she was paying attention at all until the first minute of his three-minute pause ran up and she turned back to him.

"Elevate your left arm between sets."

He didn't listen at first. He was laying on the ground and horizontal, but he could see the broken vessels in the whites of her eyes and how she bit at chapped lips. Not for the first time, he wondered what was happening outside his four walls.

Sasuke blinked, looked back up to the ceiling, and elevated his left arm.

Sakura cleared her throat. "There will be plenty of time to regain your strength, after-... After-"

"After what?" He asked with no real curiosity.

He was sure if she knew, she would have told him.

"After," she mumbled, a tired promise.

What he wasn't sure about was if they planned to execute him or not. That type of decision required due process and a fair trial in a village like Konoha. It was likely the reason for his extended time in solitary confinement. Once a jury was assembled, then his trial would begin.

There was one minute left in his pause between sets. Sakura nodded toward him.

"Pretend like you're clenching your fist," she advised.

He clenched his fist.

"No, with your other arm," she said.

Sasuke didn't look at his missing hand. "I can't clench a fist without a hand."

He sounded indifferent to his own ears, but it was irritation that spiked through him.

"Pretend," she said, light and airy. "Pretend you do."

Before he could decide whether to vocalize a protest, she added, "It's the only way your body knows how to stretch the muscles and ligaments that connect your upper arm to your shoulder."

If she weren't watching him like a hawk, he would have done it. Instead, he eyed her warily. His pride was so heavy, he felt it like a weighted blanket permanently attached to his shoulders.

She lifted her brows. "You're the one who's decided to start working out. Exercise always requires rest, and in your case, extensive rehabilitation."

It was a reiteration of something he'd heard her say to Naruto in the hospital.

She folded her arms across her chest and turned away, looking out the cell bars to the nothingness beyond them. He didn't want to indulge her. He wanted the weight of his pride to serve as a shield, a shield as good as any weapon, blocking her and himself from the embarrassment of failure. But what he wanted most never could compete with what he needed, and what he needed, he was used to needing. Practiced with needing. Skilled in it.

He needed to be strong.

Sasuke clenched the fist he did have, and using that for reference, he looked to his missing hand and tried to replicate the movement.

Nothing. There was nothing to hold, nothing to move to hold. Anger flared in him, hot and swift, but he tempered it and tried again.

"Don't look," Sakura offered, and let her own eyes drift to a close. "Hard to pretend it's there if you're so focused on it missing."

Sasuke wouldn't close his eyes- couldn't close them. He looked at her indigo-shaded lids, her chapped lips, her loose strands of clean hair. Not that long ago, he'd been this close to her, less than half a meter between them, and he'd tried to kill her. Everything had changed since then- everything- but it didn't feel like a lifetime had passed. It felt like yesterday.

He clenched both of his fists. He couldn't see his hand or his missing one, but he knew one was in a fist and the other would have been. The muscles pulled taut, stretched through his shoulder and down his arm, like she said they would.

Sakura's lids fluttered open. Green eyes, bright and beautiful, sought him out. Green as the uncut emeralds in his mother's precious gem collection. Green as tall grass in sunshine-doused meadows, as old trees in a full, thriving forest. Green like spring— alive, no matter how cold and brutal the winter.

Later, he wouldn't know why he said it. In that moment, he simply had no choice.

"When the trial starts, you need to tell them I tried to kill you."

She flinched, but she did not turn from him. "I- I tried to kill you first."

He knew that. He remembered it clearly. She damn well near succeeded. A few millimeters closer, and her chakra-infused punch would have smashed his skull to pieces. But she missed because she had hesitated. It was a tenth of a second, but his Sharingan showed that to him.

He wouldn't have missed.

He didn't hesitate.

If Kakashi hadn't intervened, she wouldn't be here. They wouldn't be here.

He pulled himself up to sit, face to face with her. "When you testify, tell them the truth."

Her lower lip trembled. She was going to argue, he could see it plain as day. So much had changed. Nothing had changed.

"Don't ask me to do that," she said, quiet but furious. "Don't- don't ask me to do something I know could get you executed."

He leaned forward. "You're the Hokage's apprentice. You would lie to the village you've sworn to serve?"

She glared at him. "Naruto lost his arm to bring you back here. If all I have to do is tell a few lies under oath, I'll do it."

Sasuke turned away from her. He was finished with the conversation.

"Kakashi might omit something, but he won't lie. Between my account and his, you won't be able to."

"Damn it, Sasuke," she growled, nearly feral. With the ruthless grace of a trained kunoichi, she jumped up to her feet in a single movement. "Why- why are you- why can't you just..."

He stood up too, agile if not graceful. This close, the height difference between them made it so he towered over her, an advantage he didn't hesitate to take.

"Thank you for the food."

It was a dismissal, and she knew it.

Sakura's hand flew to her mouth. She covered another strangled cry, but just as soon, dropped her hand back down. It was formed into a fist.

Good, he thought idly. She'd learned. Better to be angry than to be weak.

"You deserve to be punished, Sasuke," Sakura said, words forged by steel. "You don't deserve to die."

She wasn't the judge. She wouldn't be on the jury. It wasn't her decision to make. Sasuke took a seat on the bench in his cell and waited for her to leave.

It was the thirteenth day he counted being in his cell. It was the first day she left without treating his arm or unpacking his food.

He wondered when it'd be his first day on trial; of what would happen on the last.

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The next day, it was Naruto who arrived at his cell. Sasuke shouldn't have been surprised. The dobe came running down the hall, all chaos and glee. Even once he arrived to a standstill, Naruto kept bouncing, always on the tips of his toes. He spoke fervently and smiled constantly. He was too loud for Sasuke to hear him.

"What's that?" Sasuke said, interrupting Naruto mid-sentence and mid-story.

Naruto followed Sasuke's gaze to the basket hanging off his good arm at the crook of his only elbow.

"Oh, yeah!" Naruto said, an apology. "Sakura told me to bring you food, but only food that I cooked myself. Guess I can't really blame ya for being paranoid."

Naruto set the basket down on the bench and opened it for him. Sasuke looked down, his dark eyes blinking blandly. A collection of white-and-red plastic cups of instant ramen with flimsy lids stared back at him.

You deserve to be punished, she said. Sasuke was sure this was the start of it.

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