Hey guys! I am currently estimating this story to be about 45 chapters total. Obviously that could change drastically given where we're at in the story, but just wanted to give you all a rough idea.
Without further ado, let's see what Sakura has been up to. . .
She knew she was alone, but she could feel the phantom grip of his hands on her hips even then. She smiled as she blinked her eyes open. The little bit of light seeping into her room was like a torch illuminating every spot that they had claimed with their lovemaking. As she curled her fingers around the sheet beneath her, she felt the raw sting of her hands from where she had held tight to the mantle of the fireplace. Shifting her legs under the silk covering her, she winced as she felt the sweet burn of her overused muscles. There was a palpable ache between her legs, the aftermath of his unforgiving and insatiable penetration.
She arched her spine as she stretched across her large bed, a sharp crack alleviating the stiffness in her bones; she had spent most of the night writhing and twisting in pleasure, moving and undulating in ways her body never had before. Sakura rolled her neck, feeling the pinch in her shoulder blades and the tenderness of the bruises and bites on her skin.
For all the pain, she could get used to it, she thought, waking up like that. Wistfully, she petted the spot beside her. Of course, she would like to wake up with him, twisting into his arms, stirring him with a lurid kiss, inciting their carnal desires so that they might indulge within each other once more.
One day, she thought hopefully, the elation from the previous night leaving no room for doubt or impossibilities of their future. She was certain of it now, more certain than she ever had been about anything in her life, more certain than she was even just hours ago when they had exchanged their love for each other.
She could never be with another.
She belonged to Sasuke now; his marks upon her body were as much proof as his imprint upon her heart, and that thought was enough to place an elated smile on her face. Somewhere, in some primal place within her, she felt that they had claimed each other. In a manner that transcended hushed words and feeble promises, they had joined themselves together. Her cheeks flushed as she thought, over and over again.
Sakura rose from her bed with a renewed sense of peace, freedom, and desire. The promise of a new day imbued her with an elation she had not felt in years, or perhaps ever. Even as she went about dressing herself for the day, with no thought nor care towards what she reached into her wardrobe for, she found herself positively giddy over the novelty of it all. Even she, herself, felt new. Every inch of her was changed by his touch, molded by his hands, motivated by his passion, reflective of his love.
His love. She could not control the grin on her face as she pinned her hair up. She could not wait to speak those words to him again, to hear them recited back to her. How was it possible, she wondered, to miss something so much, to desire it so greatly, when it had barely been hours since she had heard it, or felt it? Perhaps she was the insatiable one - at least when it came to him.
Sakura twisted her hair up with the jeweled pins Sasuke had removed earlier. Though she secured them in her hair for anyone to see, it felt like it was their own little secret, something that she could carry with her, that she could reach up and touch, a tangible reminder of their time together to tide her over until the evening.
She did not have to look in the mirror to know she looked like a fool; a grinning, besotted, wistful fool. But she could not bring herself to care. She had him now and she would not sacrifice him for all of the world. If that made her greedy, so be it. His words were hers alone to revel in, his touch was hers to bask in, his eyes were hers to gaze into longingly, lovingly, eternally. Not status, nor war, nor family could change that for her. She only hoped that he understood that now, too, especially after the night they had just shared.
The sun did not bear down on her as she exited her rooms that morning, rather it seemed to glow favorably upon her countenance. It was a welcome respite from how harsh the summer had been thus far. As she passed the gardens, she did not look for him, knowing that he was likely training with the new recruits out in the fields. She would see him come nightfall, but until then she would only be causing her own torture. So she carried herself to her mother's sitting room and burst through the threshold with a beaming smile on her face.
"Mother, Ladies," Sakura nodded to each of them as she strode inside.
"Sakura, darling," Mebuki beckoned her forward, elated at the sight of her daughter, "We were just discussing what we would do today."
"Anything," Sakura rushed forward to sit with them at the table, "Perhaps we should have a feast for lunch in the gardens. It is such a lovely day."
"As long as we can find some shade," Ino griped, fanning herself, "I have spent too many days out in this unbearable heat."
"I bet you would do it if that soldier was out there," Karin teased, but Ino's expression suddenly turned to one of utter dismay.
"Alas, he told me he is part of the regiment traveling to the front," she said glumly, shoulders slumping, "I doubt very much that I will see him again."
"Oh, Ino," Sakura reached for her hand solemnly, a genuine concern for her friend's wellbeing taking over her features, "I am so sorry. When does he leave?"
"He has left already. This morning," she sighed and squeezed Sakura's fingers with her own, exchanging a grateful smile. Sakura made a note to herself that she would have to ask Sasuke about that that evening. She had not known the new troops would be leaving so soon, but she was hopeful for what it meant. Perhaps they could finally gain control of the war after so many years of imbalance. Perhaps they would finally know peace.
And in that peace, hope.
"Well, put it out of your mind," Mebuki said softly, soothingly, "We shall have a day of celebration instead."
"I think that is a splendid idea," Tenten chimed in. She turned her eyes on Ino and Karin with a pointed look, "We shall have no talk of boys, either."
"Yes, just us girls," Hinata agreed eagerly.
"Easy for you to say," Karin huffed, "Those of us who remain unspoken for," she nudged Sakura playfully, who could not help but simper at her words, "Have nothing better to do."
"I believe Tenten is right," Sakura quipped, though she knew that not even a sidelong glance or a brash comment directed at Sasuke from one of her ladies could alter her mood, "It will be a nice change, don't you think?"
"We shall die of boredom," Ino joked, wiggling a brow at Sakura, "If we cannot gossip about Hibiki-san, whatever will we talk about?"
Suddenly, Sakura blanched and her gaze whipped to her mother's curious eyes.
"Oh?" Mebuki's brows rose, "Has Hibiki-san finally expressed his interest?"
"Not in so many words," Sakura said hastily, causing Karin and Ino to laugh sharply at the falsehood, "What I mean to say is he has written me some letters, but there is hardly a noblemen here who has not."
"Hibiki-san is not a vocal man," Karin simpered and Ino nodded her head fervently. Meanwhile, Hinata watched Sakura carefully, her mouth tilting to a frown as the girls gossiped to Mebuki. To her shrewd eye, Sakura's pallor was evidence enough of her discomfort, but the others seemed not to notice it one bit.
"He prefers to show his affections, does he not?" Ino glanced at Sakura, cheeky and oblivious.
"Hibiki-san has doted upon you?" Mebuki asked slowly, confusion marring her visage as she struggled to think why her daughter would fail to mention a detail of such significance.
Before Sakura could push the words from her slackened jaw, Karin spoke excitedly,
"Did she not show you the necklace he just bought her?"
"Absolutely ravishing," Ino said enviously. Hinata's eyes widened slightly; she still was not entirely aware of what had been going on between Sakura and Hibiki, but she could only assume her friend's palid color and hesitation to speak had something to do with the intimate questions they had exchanged just a short while ago over dinner. It must be him, Hinata thought. Something had to have happened between the two of them that was making Sakura act so abnormally aloof.
"I must have missed it," Mebuki fixed her daughter with a stare that caused Sakura's eyes to drop to her lap where she wrung her hands together, "Has he given you other gifts?"
"A new coat, wasn't it?" Tenten asked, ignorant to her friend's plight.
"Two in the last month!" Karin chimed in.
"And the most beautiful jewels to match!" Ino squealed.
"How generous of him," Mebuki mercifully let Sakura out from under her accusing gaze to regard the others at the table, "I understand that his father's passing has brought him into a considerable amount of wealth. Any woman would be lucky to be in his sights."
Sakura bowed her head, a sudden sense of shame befalling her. She did not like to be so dishonest with her mother, but at that moment, she was unsure how she would go about informing her parents of Sasuke. She could not avoid it forever, but she supposed it was something she would have to navigate with him. She supposed it was something they would do together. Something that they had to do together.
"Sakura-chan, might I borrow you for a moment?" Hinata asked quietly, drawing only the attention of Tenten briefly.
"Of course," Sakura nodded, grateful for the distraction, and they rose from the table together. Hinata led her by the hand to the other end of the room, near the front doors and out of earshot of the guards.
"Are you all right?" Worry creased Hinata's soft features and she clasped Sakura's hand in hers.
"O-Of course," Sakura seemed taken aback by the question, but gave her a reassuring smile nonetheless, "Are you?"
"Yes, yes," Hinata assured her, pausing in uncomfortable silence, then bowed her head, "Forgive me."
"Do not think on it," Sakura shook her head, feigning nonchalance, but she knew Hinata was not as naive as she might appear to be. Sakura was grateful for her friendship, but perhaps it had been unwise of her to be so forward in her questions when they had dined together. Sakura could see the suspicions she had raised within Hinata, whose eyes had risen once more to inspect her. With a polite smile, an attempt to allay whatever assumptions she might have about the situation at hand, Sakura made to turn away when Hinata said suddenly,
"M-Might I ask why it is you have not told your mother about Hibiki-san?"
Sakura's jaw dropped at her brazen query and she stammered for a response, a lie, anything.
"H-Has he done something?" Hinata's cheeks reddened with every word she uttered, "He has not h-hurt you, has he?"
"No," Sakura balked, "How could you say such a thing?"
"I am sorry, Haruno-sama," Hinata shook her head vehemently. As she continued to speak, she kept her eyes to the floor, "I-I feared something might have happened between you two when you inquired about such an, mm, i-intimate subject. A-And you have seemed most distracted lately, at least since - since his return - ,"
"Please, Hinata-chan," Sakura held a hand up to silence her babbling, "He has done nothing so sordid and I would never suggest such a thing where it concerns him," she breathed deeply to calm herself, "I have resolved to inform my mother of these things in due time. Though we can infer his intentions, the fact remains that he has yet to be clear about them. I would rather know his ambitions explicitly before involving my mother and her enthusiasm for such a prospect that may not even come to fruition."
"I see," Hinata lifted her gaze slowly and nodded in understanding, "Forgive me, S-Sakura-chan. I am concerned only for your wellbeing."
"And I am grateful for that," Sakura placed a hand on Hinata's shoulder and smiled sweetly at her, "You need not worry yourself. With time, all things are made clear."
Tonight, she would talk with Sasuke. Together they would formulate a plan to announce their love and seek her parents' blessing; she could wait no longer. Of course, there was the matter of his heritage, but Sakura would never subject him to their judgements. Though she loved him and accepted him, she could not guarantee her parents would feel the same. In fact, she knew that they would not. But if that meant that they would live the remainder of their lives under the guise of Uzumaki, so be it. It would be their burden to bear now - no longer his alone.
"Yes, of course," Hinata returned her smile and excused herself back to the table. Sakura watched her retreat and caught Mebuki's wandering eye. She was not looking forward to the stern tongue lashing her mother would inevitably give her, but she hoped Mebuki would understand when Sakura told her the truth. The nobility of the Haruno ancestry spanned generations, never disobeying the law that they must marry within an aristocratic family - that they must marry for power, for wealth, for the empire.
Until now, Sakura thought proudly before returning to join their party.
The gardens were alive with the sound of gleeful gossip and clinking glasses, a jovial cacophony that announced their celebrations. Mebuki had arranged for the kitchen staff to cook a special lunch and had sent for a table and chairs to be assembled beneath a large tree beside the vastly empty training fields. Sakura thought little of the vacancy of the grounds as she looked off into the distance; she supposed that if the troops had departed that morning, then Sasuke might not have much to do in the coming days. A smile was brought to her face as she imagined that things might finally return to normal for them. He could resume his post as her personal guard during the days, while spending the evenings with her once again, playing games, sparring, talking, and engaging in other, more libidinous activities.
He slipped inside her slowly, allowing her to feel him stretch her an inch at a time.
Her cheeks flushed at the thought.
They could finally look to the future, and this time, she would not let him blink. Though he had never let her fantasies wander far, there was no doubting the love she had seen in his eyes, felt through his touch, and heard from his lips last night. She was certain that, if given the chance, he would choose her and she wanted to show him that he would not regret such a choice. Sakura did not know how yet, but she would make her parents understand. She would make them see the man that he was, that she knew him to be. Of course, he had saved her life twice, and that, in itself, had to count for something.
As her gaze roamed back to the table, she caught sight of Lee not far off. He was looking over at her with a timid smile and Sakura realized that not even his presence could dampen her spirits that day. Finally, all was right in her world again and, soon, her love for Sasuke would be common knowledge. She would no longer have to subject herself to the idle affections of various courtiers, because she would be, once and for all, spoken for. So she held Lee's eyes for a moment and smiled brightly at him. She laughed to herself as she thought of her outburst at him after her visit to the infirmary during Sasuke's stay.
Perhaps she owed him an apology, once everything was through. He had been right after all.
Sakura had barely bid her ladies farewell after their luncheon, when her mother descended on her in a frenzy.
"You did not tell me Hibiki-san has been courting you," Mebuki took hold of her daughter's wrist and pulled her back towards the tree they had eaten beneath, away from the guards stationed to them, "Has he asked for your hand? It is very improper of him to not consult with us first."
"No, mother, he has not," Sakura struggled out of her grasp, irritated already at the direction of the conversation, "He has sent me letters like any other suitor. It is only recently that I have begun to receive gifts from him."
"How many?" Her mother pressed.
"I do not know," Sakura sighed, folding her arms over her chest.
"How many, Sakura?" Mebuki asked again.
"I have lost count," she said wearily, shrugging her shoulders airily, "He has given me slews."
Mebuki gasped.
"You should have told us sooner. There is a proper way to go about these things, darling," Mebuki was trying to keep her voice level while excitement and agitation roiled in her stomach. Her daughter should have known better, but was she a terrible mother for not noticing their involvement? "We must consult with your father in this. If Hibiki-san means to ask for your hand, we must begin preparations right away."
"Mother, please," Sakura sighed, "He has said nothing of the sort to me."
"He does not need to say it with words!" Mebuki chastised her, "He has made it quite clear if you ask me," her brows furrowed, fixing Sakura under a strict stare, "That necklace you were wearing the other day - was it from your father, or from him?"
Sakura swallowed thickly and bowed her head, ashamed.
"It was not from Father," she admitted, averting her eyes.
"Why did you not tell me?" Mebuki pulled her daughter into a tight hug, an alighted expression on her face, "This is a joyous thing."
"Mother," Sakura said hesitantly, clutching Mebuki and hiding her face in her hair, "What if I do not wish to marry Hibiki-san?"
"Does he displease you?" she asked, concerned as she stroked her daughter's back.
"No, he is a fine man, but," Sakura chewed her lip, pondering carefully, "I do not think he is meant for me."
"Sakura, darling," Mebuki pushed against Sakura's shoulders gently so that she could look into her daughter's eyes, "You are a brilliant young woman. Your maturation surpasses your years, but you are of age - you have been for some time. It has been difficult for us to arrange something for you given the state of our world - for that I can only apologize on behalf of circumstance - but it is time that we start thinking of these things and, perhaps, even begin to help this process along."
"But, mother, I - ,"
"I know it can be a daunting thing, as it should be, but you must think of it as a new adventure. One that you will embark on with your husband by your side," Mebuki clutched her daughter's hands in hers and smiled brightly, "You will see."
"Mother, I do not want Hibiki-san," Sakura said fiercely, something flashing in her emerald orbs that startled the matriarch.
"Is it Lee-san?" Mebuki's brows rose in surprise as the notion popped into her head, "I thought you did not - ,"
"No, it is not Lee," Sakura shook her head. Mebuki set her shoulders back and exhaled softly. She kept her tone reserved as she spoke,
"Darling, you should know your father had the idea that Gaara-san might be a suitable match for you," she did not miss the flicker of shock in her daughter's face, "He is only a little older than you and a formidable ally to our nation," Mebuki forced a smile as she uttered her next words, the thought disparaging her, "We could arrange for you to meet him, perhaps you could spend a few months at his court."
"I do not want that," Sakura pulled herself free, taking a step back. Her skin felt clammy despite the arid wind. She had not wished to have this conversation so soon, or without consulting Sasuke first, but she supposed there was no better time, "I would like to marry someone of my choosing."
Mebuki's shoulders drooped and she folded her hands together in front of her as she attempted to restrain herself.
"And who would that be?"
Sakura opened her mouth, but could not push his name past her lips. She shook her head and tried to articulate her thoughts in another way,
"If he wanted to marry me, would you and father accept?"
"Sakura, who is he?" Mebuki narrowed her eyes.
"Would you?" She questioned sharply.
"Who is he?" Mebuki straightened herself, exuding the rigidity of a mountain and the force of a mother.
"He is good enough for me, is that not sufficient?" Sakura hissed, cheeks burning from shame and embarrassment and anger.
"You are my daughter," Mebuki reminded her, "I want only what is best for you. But as your mother and a ruler of this empire, there are certain things that I must do to ensure your safety and the safety of our legacy. One day you will have to make this choice for your children and I hope then that you will understand the greatness of such a burden."
"Mother," Sakura sighed and bowed her head; her protest dying on her lips.
"We can not all be so lucky as your father and I," a rare, saccharine smile graced Mebuki's features as she gazed upon her daughter, "We did not fall in love right away, but as we came to know each other, we could not deny the depth of our feelings for one another. I can say with sincerity today that there is no other man who could replace your father in my heart. And he gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for," Mebuki stretched her arms out and Sakura ran into her embrace, tears pricking her eyes, "To be a mother," her voice quavered as she held Sakura tightly, "I often think of what might have been were Seiichi still alive. My boy would be married now, with his own children."
Sakura was clinging to her mother desperately, a wound she'd been nursing her whole life now more raw than the day it was born.
"You would have been the best aunt, darling," Mebuki said softly, a hand coming up to rest on the back of Sakura's head.
"Why do you never talk about him so?" The thickness in her throat made it difficult to push her query out.
"To lose a child is the greatest suffering," there was a startling monotony present in Mebuki's tone, as though she had spent years repeating the same sentiment over and over again, at least to herself, "You and your father are so alike. It is a good thing, because you do not cling to the pains of the past; you grieve them. You understand them. Not everyone is gifted with such power. Those of us who are not are tormented in silence. We become so entwined with our own pain that it grows to be a part of us until we can not live without it. We do not know how to use it to help us grow and learn and love. So we keep it within, we let it consume us, reliant on its presence, and believe that it is an affliction to feel anything without its misery."
"Mother," Sakura's voice broke; she had not known Mebuki carried such anguish with her everyday, but she suspected she had known another to carry a similar pain, "I am so sorry."
"Hush, darling," Mebuki said soothingly, "You have nothing to be sorry for. I am sorry that we could not protect you and your brother better. If he were still here, he could have helped you shoulder some of this burden. You could have ruled beside each other, balancing the power between your strength and his strategy," she sighed, the weight of such a loss still as heavy as the day it had arrived within her, "And then you might have been able to marry as you please - to an extent."
Sakura was silent; all this she knew. She had spent so many nights dwelling on what might have been had her love's brother not been the one to swing the sword against her own kin. It was an odd feeling to have hated Itachi for a death she scarcely remembered, but it was even more surreal to despise him for the repercussions the action continued to subject her to. Even worse was the despair she felt when faced with the inevitability that the past could not be changed. No matter how desperately she wished to try.
"Who is he, darling?" Mebuki asked again. Sakura stiffened in her hold, arms rigid like steel around her mother and her eyes listlessly cast to the trunk of the tree in front of her. She took a breath.
"Nobody."
Sakura did not want to speak to Sasuke about such dreadful topics. She did not want to ruin what could be a perfectly pleasant evening by drudging up their pasts or casting doubt on their futures. She only wanted to fall into bed with him and forget the horrid talk she had had with her mother earlier that day. She needed him to remind her that it did not matter what happened before or after, as long as they had each other in that moment. Her belief was firm in that their love could conquer and heal and flourish; that it was enough. A feeling so powerful could not be overcome so easily.
And a love so deep could not be displaced without tearing it up by its very roots.
So Sakura waited. And waited. And waited.
But he never came. It had been hours and Sakura had taken to pacing the length of her bedroom, nearly wearing a path in her floor. Where was he? Of all the nights to disappear on her - well, tonight was one of the worst; she needed him. She needed his tender touches and burning kisses and blistering words. She needed his desire, his promises, his reassurance.
She needed to forget - the past, the present, the future. She needed to exist only in the space that they occupied together. To exist in the cloud of ecstasy that their passion gifted them, the same cloud that precluded the world around them until there was no eternal war, no damnable heritage, and no cruel certainties.
But when she crossed her window yet again, dawn had begun to break and her heart sank.
Where was he?
Come the full sunrise, Sakura was seated on the stone bench in the gardens, her guards in close proximity. Despite their looming stature, her distracted mind had succeeded in blocking them from her immediate attentions; she was far too busy thinking of other things to pay them any mind.
She twirled her wagasa idly as she looked out over the lake. The glimmer of her koi caught her eye as they swam beneath a ray of light and she found herself longing for that cold winter morning when he'd helped her up from the icy ground. When the lake had been frozen over and the trees hung heavy with the freshly fallen snow. When the war was only a point on the horizon, obscured by the burgeoning infatuation with the man she had yet to know. With a secret smile, she recalled how stiff and cautious he had been around her at the beginning. She had always suspected there was something more beneath his stoic exterior, but she had not anticipated the passion laying dormant within him, waiting to be awoken.
To be awoken by her.
"Haruno-sama," Hibiki was striding towards her, a broadening grin overtaking his face. Sakura rose to greet him with a constrained smile. She glanced briefly at her guards, ensuring that their adjacency had not widened. She felt a distinct unease as he approached her and though she knew it was not entirely his fault, that her mother's conversation was mostly the cause for it, she still resolved to keep her distance. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her wagasa as she held it over her; that seemed as good an excuse as any to not extend him her hand.
"Hibiki-san," she bowed her head as he came upon her, "How are you this morning?"
"Well, and you?"
"Very well, thank you," Sakura noted how his eyes seemed to take her in piece by piece, as though he were taking stock of her attire, and she realized that he must be searching for any one of the gifts he had bestowed upon her. Sakura's cheeks flushed and she ducked her head, embarrassed at the state of herself; she had not donned any that day and she suddenly felt very guilty for insulting him so indirectly. The art of courting, and being courted, was one she could admit freely to herself that she was unquestionably incompetent in - though it was not for lack of instruction. With a pacifying smile, she asked, "Would you care to join me for a walk?"
"Certainly," he nodded and let Sakura lead him on the path around the gardens. Silently, she hoped that Sasuke was nowhere nearby where he might happen upon them. She could explain it later of course, and she was sure he would understand, but it would be better to avoid such a conversation altogether. He had been so understanding about the necklace, but less so about the letter from Lee - the contents of which were still, and would forever be, unknown to her. She could forgive him for that now. She had tasted jealousy where he was concerned and it was a foul, bitter thing.
Yet, she assuaged herself with the notion that they would not have to endure these things much longer. She just needed to speak with Sasuke, figure out the best course of action, then she would never again have to entertain the men at her father's court and he would never again have to watch her waltz around a room with another man on her arm. Subduing a smile, Sakura turned her head to the lake.
"Your family, how are they?" She asked politely.
"Safe," he said gladly, "Safe and healthy. They will be traveling soon, in fact."
"Oh?"
"Yes, for a reprieve from the war - and from their grief."
Sakura spared him a glance, a doleful regard for his loss and his family's.
"A reprieve," she repeated slowly, "What a luxury," at his silence, she reprimanded herself, "Forgive me. I do not mean to say that I would trade my family for a moment away from this war, but I - well," she shook her head and returned her gaze forward, embarrassed by her admission, "I do not know."
"Haruno-sama," he cleared his throat and she saw him tense in her peripheral, "I can not take you away from all of this," he gestured flippantly around them, as though the grand structures and extravagant grounds were trifling trinkets rather than the very walls that enclosed them, "It is your birthright, after all."
"Yes, of course," Sakura clenched the handle of her wagasa anxiously. She was unsure of what exactly he was hoping to say, but every word uttered thus far had beset an unease in her stomach.
"And perhaps I have not been so forthright with you, at least in this matter, but I could ease your burdens," he stopped on the trail, forcing Sakura to pause with him. She swept her eyes along the dirt beneath their feet before dragging them up to his gaze.
"Is that so?" She swallowed uncomfortably, her palms and neck perspiring under his consideration, "I am afraid I do not understand. Please, do not mistake my qualms for discomfort. It is a difficult world we live in, a difficult time, but then - it is only time, isn't it? All things pass."
"Yes, of course," he seemed to falter at her response, though a reticent smile remained on his face, "I only mean to offer my services to you."
"Your services?" She nearly laughed at the word, but managed to compose herself promptly.
"Certainly," he squirmed under her scrutiny as he said, "I often find that when my sisters are in a dreadful way that nothing quite cheers them up like a new coat or a shiny brooch."
"Ah," Sakura tossed her head back and laughed, though he could not say with confidence what it was that she found so humorous, "You portend that my troubles may be effaced from my mind for a price."
"You make it sound so simple," he protested.
"Oh?" Sakura's brow rose and she twirled her wagasa thrice in her hands, "Well I will offer you this - any manner of jewels that glitter and shine may amuse me for a short while. Your gifts have been most gracious and I will assure you that I have enjoyed every one. I daresay your taste far exceeds my own."
"And yet?" He prompted her, his shoulders sagging. Sakura inhaled sharply, her body going rigid as they stood in the expanse of the gardens, exposed to the day. She could be honest or altruistic, but the two were not mutually exclusive. In her honesty, there lay only a painful truth that, undoubtedly, one day, he would come to know. One day, when she and Sasuke were free to walk about the palace, arm in arm, heart in heart. One day, soon.
But in her concern for not only his sentiments, but also the stability of Hibiki's pride as well, she could not be truthful. She could not dissuade him from his pursuance, nor his affections, nor his benevolence. She could only stand silently by as he continued to explore a path that would lead him nowhere. A wasted effort, she thought, but Sakura held her tongue and conducted herself with all the regality and authority she could muster.
"And yet, I have nothing more to say," her voice was level and considerate as she addressed him, but firm in her position, "I have owed you my gratitude for some time and I wish you would accept it now. Please."
Hibiki straightened himself and peered at her curiously, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He bowed his head quickly before lifting it back up to look at her.
"You are most welcome, Haruno-sama," briefly, her gaze dropped to his hands that flexed at his sides nervously, "Forgive me for not being more direct with you."
"In what?" She swallowed stiffly. His eyes crinkled at the sides as that smile finally broke free across his face.
"In everything."
"I do not think this is the right time," Mebuki stood before the grand window in her empty sitting room, the courtiers having been dispersed elsewhere and the only occupants that remained being her and her husband. In a rare display of her intemperate emotions, Mebuki fidgeted with the jewels at her neck as she chewed her lip, "It is too soon."
"Too soon?" Kizashi balked at her from his position beside the dormant fireplace, seated comfortably in a large leather chair, "Just a fortnight ago you were telling me how enthused you were about the idea. Am I to be faulted for attempting to make my wife happy now?"
She shot him a scathing glare as she turned to face him.
"If you had consulted me in this, perhaps I would feel differently," she said steadily, "I can recall many an occasion where you have paid me compliments with your pretty words about the capacities of my mind and the thoughts that occupy it. Well, now my mind has changed. Would you take back those sentiments simply because I have found the sense to adapt my stance on this situation?"
Kizashi swallowed thickly and folded his hands over his stomach as he regarded the menacing figure before him.
"Certainly not," he said hastily, "I only wonder what could have possessed you to change your mind when you were once so resolute."
"I can not say," she said flippantly.
"It is a mystery then?" Kizashi peered at her, bemused and with a mocking note to his words.
"I can not say," Mebuki repeated slowly, her gaze fixing on her husband, "Because Sakura will not tell me."
Kizashi straightened in his chair, hands coming to clench the armrests at his sides.
"Tell you what?"
Mebuki shook her head lightly.
"Did you know that she is being courted by Hibiki-san?"
"Hibiki-san?"
"Jewels, garments, letters," Mebuki threw her hands up in exasperation, "But not a word about it. If Ino-chan had not mentioned him, I daresay we would never have known. I was aware of his affections, to a degree, but," she broke off with a sharp exhale, "And then there is Lee-san, though I would wager my best rubies he will never act on his feelings in such a way."
Kizashi rolled his eyes in an excessive manner.
"Darling, it is no fault of ours that these men have made no formal word to us for her hand. Cowards, the lot of them."
"But she has," Mebuki's gaze strayed to the window briefly and she clasped her hands tightly together, knuckles whiting with the force of her own hold, "Sakura has."
"About Hibiki-san?" Kizashi was inching ever closer to the edge of his seat, poised to spring to his feet as soon as his wife said the word.
"No," she said solemnly, "And not about Lee."
"Then who?"
"She will not say," Mebuki's voice quieted, "She insists he is nobody."
"Nobody of consequence?"
"Nobody of existence."
Kizashi was silent for a long moment, digesting the improbably perplexing predicament they now found themselves in. He knew his daughter was willful, acting often on passion rather than rumination; just as he had done at her age. The difference was that he had been given opportunities that had been taken from her before he could stop them. The war, his son, all of it had ensured Sakura would be set on a strict path to secure the longevity of the Haruno empire. It was her duty and hers alone, though it sickened Kizashi to his core that he had to consider his daughter as currency for their family's future, but such was the way of the world. If she did not marry into affluence, their empire would crumble and, long after he and Mebuki were gone, it would leave Sakura destitute.
"Darling," Kizashi spoke hesitantly, "It is too late to rescind the offer," Mebuki raised her eyes slowly, a despairing resolution set within them, "Gaara is already on his way. He will be expecting a bride upon his arrival."
"Of course."
"There is nothing to be done now, but to prepare."
"I suppose he will be expecting a lavish welcome as well."
"There are worse things than to be planning these festivities."
"Mark me," Mebuki stewed quietly, "I take no pleasure in entertaining anyone who profits from my family's misfortunes."
"Come now," Kizashi chastised her, "A union such as this will be beneficial for all. He is only doing what is right for his nation, just as we are."
"And what about our daughter?" She snapped.
"Do not be mistaken," Kizashi said heavily, his words grave in a way that was so rarely heard from him, "If we were at all in a position to sustain our empire without the assistance of a marriage - if we were not so disadvantaged in this war to begin with - I would guarantee she die an old spinster. I could not even conjure a man well enough in my dreams that would suffice for her. Lee, Hibiki, Gaara - they are all the same. They could never be enough for our daughter, but it would do her well to obtain something from her own union. Would you not agree?"
Mebuki's silence spoke for her. She knew all this, but it did not change her disposition towards the situation one bit. It did not appear to change her husband's either, for they both knew that they owed Gaara a great deal, particularly if the war ended in their favor. So it did not matter what any of them wanted - not Kizashi, not Mebuki, not even Sakura, despite any notion in her mind of other plans.
All that mattered were the circumstances that brought them here. And the ones that had already determined their future.
Sakura fingered the hilt of her brother's blade, a volatile pulse thrumming in her veins as she watched her reflection in the smooth steel. She remained starkly unsettled by the course of the day and, with the moon at its highest point in the sky already, her mood had not improved one bit. A desperation had taken residence within her, a feeling that she was familiar with, and she knew that while there was only one person who could cure such desperation, there was one thing that might quell it.
But if she took off in the night to the forests to unleash some of her festering anxieties, she might miss Sasuke's attempt to visit her rooms - even if he did seem to be taking great leisure to return to her. Deep within, seeding its doubt, she recognized the same fears from their time apart resurfacing. With a fervent shake of her head, she stuffed them down, returned the sword to its scabbard, and shoved it beneath her bed.
He would return to her. Whether it was that night, the next, or the one after, he would return to her. And when he did, there was much they had to discuss. Between his shallow breaths and the quiet rasp of her voice, when he had thoroughly renewed the sweet burn between her legs and she had exhausted the muscles in his limbs, they would have to talk. They would have to face the challenges ahead.
As if in response, her thighs trembled the longer she knelt on the floor. She could still feel him - around her, against her, inside of her. He was everywhere. So even when he was not there with her, he was.
He had left a piece of himself in that room, so he would return. He had to.
She clung to that faith as she fell asleep, hunched over her bed, while the sun rose.
Hinata had stood a fair distance back earlier that day, watching Sakura and Hibiki speak closely. She still had not made sense of the inquiries and maladies that plagued her friend. Although, the evidence that had been before her might have suggested that she had her answer. Yet, something did not sit right with Hinata and for that, she could not pacify her curiosity. Sakura's apparent adversity to her prodding had certainly not helped matters and she could only hope that she had not soured their friendship any further.
Despite it all, Hinata still attempted to convince herself otherwise. It was entirely possible that she was seeing something that quite simply was not there. It was entirely possible that she was merely projecting her own strife upon Sakura to ease her loneliness. It was entirely possible that nothing whatsoever would come of her scrutiny.
But then, it was entirely possible that none of that was true.
The next morning, Sakura's patience had worn to nearly nothing. An odd jumble of both carnal and emotional deprivation constricted her until it was all that she knew. Her body felt starved - sore and bruised and ravaged, but aching for his attention again. It was not so different from her heart, the cavern of which became bottomless at the prospect of his affections.
What an odd thing, she thought, to have lost, given up, had stolen, the autonomy over her mind, body and soul. Even more puzzling to her, was how heedless she had been of the consequences. It had seemed such an ancillary thing, a symptom of their love, a product of the inevitable. But he was supposed to be at her side, he was supposed to belong to her, just as she did to him.
With a steadying breath, she attempted to calm her frayed nerves as she rounded the lake for the umpteenth time. The training grounds were clearly visible to her, only a few men occupying the space, and his absence had served to incense her. Where could he possibly be? And why had he not revealed himself to her since their tryst?
Surely he did not regret it. . .
No.
No.
Sakura paused beside the stone bench as a hawk soared overhead. She followed it carefully, watching its journey over the lake and beyond the palace walls until it had flown out of sight. How lucky, she thought.
"Haruno-sama."
Sakura whipped around and found Lee a few respectable paces from her.
"Lee-san," she offered him a modest smile, but he drank it in like the rain after a drought. It had been some time since they had had an amicable encounter and she could see the relief in his stature at her greeting. Despite Sasuke's absence for the time being, she found her resolve renewed with every courtier that faced her. Once more, she was coveting a secret that only she and Sasuke shared.
"You look," he floundered for some form of flattery, perhaps sifting through every word he had already spoken to her in the hopes that he might uncover some new, pretty sentiment - something that would undo everything he'd said to her before that moment.
But she did not give him the chance.
"Thank you," Sakura said politely.
"Uh - Have you been well?"
"I have. And you?"
"Indeed. Although, if I may say - ,"
"Haruno-sama," a guard approached them swiftly, "Your mother and father have requested to speak with you."
"Oh, I see," Sakura nodded to the man and regarded Lee once more, "Please excuse me."
As merciful as the reprieve of her parents' summons was, she could not help but feel just a twinge of compassion for Lee. He did not know any better, none of them did. Silently, she hoped that tonight would be the night for Sasuke's visit. She did not know how much longer she could put up with it all and she needed to speak to him first, before she made any rash decisions.
Mebuki averted her eyes as Sakura entered Kizashi's study. An unease born of doubt and guilt had crept up the back of her throat, sealing her mouth shut. She had not spoken to her daughter since learning that there might be - well, somebody else involved in Sakura's courtship and she did not think she could stand the sight of her daughter's heart breaking at the news they were about to share.
Mebuki could only hope now that Sakura would be receptive to the possibility of Gaara.
"Father, Mother," Sakura bowed as she entered the room and Mebuki gave a brief, imperceptible nod.
"Darling," Kizashi swept his arms out to receive her, "How are you this day?"
"I am - I am well," Sakura shook herself free of the thoughts that plagued her as she embraced her father. Her eyes flickered to Mebuki who remained surreptitiously in the corner of the room, "And you?"
"Nothing could so dampen my spirits today," he said boisterously as they released each other, "I have grand news."
"Oh?" At once, Sakura's spirits lifted, her mind racing towards the prospect that someway, somehow, they had managed to turn the tides of the war already. Perhaps it was over now! Perhaps there could be peace! Perhaps there could be change. . .
"In thanks for his generosity, I have extended an invitation to Gaara from the Sand. We will be hosting him for some time and, upon his arrival, will welcome him with one of your mother's spectacular ceremonies," Kizashi paused for a moment, letting Sakura mull over the information given to her, as well as to let her consider the implications with it. But, she seemed lost, confused, as though such an event had no basis upon her or her life and, as the silence stretched, Mebuki cleared her throat, prompting her husband, "Yes, well, he will come to take part in our revelry, meet our people, and - and indulge in our feasts. You know, I doubt the man has ever eaten a meal as delicious as we can cook here. I boasted quite greatly about our staff and ensured him he would not soon forget so fine a roasted pig."
Kizashi laughed to himself when his blabber had ended.
"Indeed," Sakura forced a smile to her face. There was a thickness in the air, like an acrid smoke that grew to the point of near suffocation. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, "This is wonderful news. I look forward to his arrival."
She bowed before them and turned to make her leave, clenching her hands to fists to stay the tremor of her fingers, desperate to release herself from such an uncomfortable conversation.
"Sakura," her mother's stiff, chilling tone cut through the air and she paused in her steps. Slowly, she faced Mebuki, whose arms had been crossed over her chest either to convey the sternness of her next words or in defense of them, "We have much to do before his arrival. I have arranged for your lessons to resume in the meantime. Though, I have no doubt of your capabilities, a woman can never be too well versed in her etiquette."
"Of course, Mother," Sakura struggled to keep her eyes trained on Mebuki, blinking back the tears before they could form. With every word from her mother's mouth, the walls around her seemed to close in ever more.
"I will speak with Hibiki-san - it is the least I can do for you - and will send the handmaidens to retrieve all of his gifts. At the party, you and Gaara will be presented to the court," Mebuki's voice faltered, but she straightened herself swiftly, "As intended to be betrothed."
The word fell with a clamorous bang, splitting the floor beneath Sakura's feet until the chasm under her caused her legs to wobble.
BETROTHED.
"I," she stuttered and extended a hand out, fingers grasping for something to steady her, but finding nothing, not even her father's hand. In a desperate attempt to right herself, she shifted her footing and straightened her spine, "Betrothed?"
Her parents shared a terse glance, mouths agape as though they had never heard such an absurd notion before, despite just voicing it themselves.
"It is for the best," Mebuki finally said, "For you, for our nation - for everyone."
Sakura's throat ran dry, the words on her tongue burning to ash before she could speak them. Something about Sasuke. She had meant to say something about Sasuke. She was supposed to tell them that - that. . .
She was supposed to tell them. . . Sasuke.
"Yes," Sakura bowed her head, the tears slipping off her lids to flow down her cheeks. Her voice cracked as she whispered, "Of course."
She waited only as long as it took her to draw in a shuddering breath before drawing herself upright.
"Darling," her father's tone was thick with pity and she could hardly stand it. Sakura raised a weak hand, waving off his sympathies. Mebuki started forward, but Sakura stepped back.
"Please, I-I just need a moment," Sakura retreated to the door, fumbling for the handle as the dissonance of her parents' pleas followed her. She stumbled outside, clutching a hand over her mouth as she attempted to compose herself. It was still early in the day, the courtyard was bustling with activity, and she did not wish for anyone to see her in such a diminished state.
Sasuke. Where was Sasuke?
He could fix this all. He could make it right. He could give her the strength she needed to defy her parents, to defy tradition, to defy even herself.
She needed him.
As the tears subsided and the lump in her throat had vanished, it was slowly replaced with dubiety, denial, and. . . Hope.
His words were hers alone, his touch was hers to bask in, his eyes were hers to gaze into longingly, lovingly, eternally. Not status, nor war, nor family could change that for her.
It was not over yet.
Her hair, though unwound and falling down her back, barely stirred in the stagnant air. Sweat gathered between her palm and the hilt of her brother's sword. Her chest swelled against the bindings of her jūnihitoe and her feet had begun to ache from standing on the rough, uneven ground of the forest. A week had passed and she still had not seen Sasuke. A week had passed and the marks on her body had faded. A week had passed and she could no longer feel the sting of his penetration when she parted her legs. A week had passed and she had not spoken to her parents since their announcement.
The anxious palpitations of her heart as she lay awake at night, restless for Sasuke's hold and his words, were becoming too thunderous to ignore.
So, that night, she had resumed the only activity that gave her any peace of mind, body, and spirit. But, even as she stood there, wielding the blade, she could not find the force or the determination to swing it.
Though Sasuke had been absent for far longer than she liked and though it had dampened her temperament almost irreparably, she still had managed to retain the flame of hope in her chest that their love could save her. That their love could dissuade her parents from this betrothal. That their love was enough. Enough to conquer, enough to heal, enough to flourish.
It had to be.
There was enough time before Gaara arrived at the palace for them to figure out a course of action, to devise a plan for the future.
She could not marry a man that was not Sasuke. She could not love a man other than Sasuke. She could not trust another man as much as she did Sasuke.
If he would not reveal himself to her, then she would seek him out. She would take his hand and lead him towards their future; he had to be lurking somewhere.
Sakura linked her arm with her father's as they strolled along the dirt path around the lake. She had invited him for a walk, a nonchalant proposal to hide her ulterior motive, and he had accepted readily, though largely due to his guilt over how the revelation of her sudden engagement had transpired. It was no matter to Sakura, however. Her forbearance was gone and she would have many choice words for Sasuke when she finally saw him, but that was what drove her to act so demonstrably about the matter. With her visage partially obscured by the wagasa resting over her, she remarked coyly,
"It appears you have stolen my favorite guard."
The Emperor chuckled at the absurdity of such a statement.
"I was not aware you had a favorite."
Sakura could not help but smile at that and nodded gently.
"The Uzumaki," she dipped her head, pretending to admire the bloomed flowers so that she would not have to meet her father's curious eyes, "He humors me."
Kizashi shook his head, puzzled.
"I doubt I have ever seen the man laugh."
"Yes," she agreed with his insinuation, "At first I found him to be rather austere as well. Very much unlike his brother."
"Oh, indeed," Kizashi laughed at something she was unaware of, "Though no less an impressive warrior."
"Certainly," another concealed smile, "We do owe him a great deal."
"I have seen to it that he will be richly rewarded for his services."
"Oh?" Sakura looked up then, heart leaping at her father's words.
"He petitioned me for a new post not long ago, a position where he could fight alongside his brother. He was most enthusiastic about joining our efforts at the front, so I made him a general. By the end of this war, the Uzumakis each will possess a hefty pension to support them through the rest of their lives."
Sakura had not realized her legs had stopped until she felt the tug of her father's arm looped with hers.
"A-A general?" She asked, her voice wavering as she wobbled in place. At once, her skin became clammy and chilled, despite the heat. She thought she could feel sweat running down her cheeks, but maybe those were tears.
"Darling, are you all right?" Kizashi waved the guards over hurriedly. He reached forward to clutch his daughter against him, angling her face up to his gaze and she smiled. She smiled because her heart was breaking, "You are red as a tomato - is it the heat?" He whipped around and shouted, "To the infirmary! Get her to the infirmary now!"
"No," she protested weakly, but the tightening of her throat was making it difficult for her to breathe, "No, I - I just need to go back to my rooms. I-I'm fine, it is only - ,"
Kizashi shushed her as the guards came upon them, one of them scooping her into his arms and carrying her off the path towards the infirmary.
"No, please, I just - ,"
Pain erupted in her chest, burning hotter than any flare of passion or desire she had ever experienced. Like prickly tendrils it branched outward, reaching into the deepest places within her until all she felt was sheer, unfiltered dread - an anxious asphyxiation - an indignant wrath - sheer anguish - It was - it felt like. . .
Betrayal.
His words were hers alone, his touch was hers to bask in, his eyes were hers to gaze into longingly, lovingly, eternally. Not status, nor war, nor family could change that for her.
But he, he could change that.