A/N: Hey guys, here's the update (finally). If you follow Sunrise as well, I am almost done with the new chapter too, so just give me a little more time. I've been busy this past year, but I never forget I have to update.

Hope you like this.

Sacred

(5)

Winter comes and, with it, the rain washes across the city.

Her fifteenth birthday passes by her and she wakes up that morning knowing this birthday will be different from the rest. It's not the first time she will celebrate it on Palace grounds, but it's the first time she'll be allowed to go outside the temple, and she's excited for what this might mean. Will she see Naruto? Sasuke? Will they gift her the same she has always received from them, some exotic candy and a carefully-sewn dress, or will it be more?

She takes a bath to purify herself before the sun rises, and dresses in her customary white tunic with gold embroidery at the seams, walking barefoot to the shrine of Isis because, once or twice a month, she turns her attention away from Osiris and focuses her undivided devotion toward his lovely wife.

She eats at the back of the temple and takes another bath after just like it's any other day, and her mentor teaches her how to properly go through the process of mummification—she's preparing her, she tells her, to go see the actual process one day with the priests who are in charge of that sector on the other side of the village.

And when the sun is about to dip down below the horizon, she's allowed to go outside on her once-a-day break. She instinctively looks for Naruto as soon as she walks down the steps of the shrine, and finds him already waiting for her by the fountains next to the gardens. She runs to him and hugs him only because she knows the three guards standing nearby won't say a word.

Sasuke's nowhere to be seen.

For the remainder of the time she has with her blond friend, he gives her the candy she so loves and talks with her and tells her all about the battle training he's receiving. But Sasuke is nowhere to be seen.

And when she finally musters up the courage to ask of his whereabouts, Naruto merely laughs and tells her he's out to some meeting with the Pharaoh, to which Sakura only nods. She had been hoping he would come around for her birthday, at least, or show up for even a second, but with the way they had ended their last conversation weeks ago, she shouldn't be surprised or disappointed that he does not show up at all.

On one of the colder mornings during the late Spring, Tsunade enters her temple bearing news that should—if not because he is the future heir to the throne—sadden her, but they otherwise leave her feeling anxious; excited, even.

The Pharaoh's son is terribly sick, and they quickly head to the main building of the Palace, two bags of instruments in Sakura's hands.

They go up three flights of stairs and walk through two hallways before coming up to a large bedroom. Tsunade parts the beads hanging from the ceiling of the doorway, letting her come in after herself.

And that's when she sees her; her mother, forehead sweaty and hands moving over the child's body in order to assess him. She doesn't even look up when they enter, and Sakura's stuck to the floor for a second too long as she stares. In the two years she has been diligently studying to become a priestess, she hasn't really had the time to see her mother. The fact that she's there, just a few steps away from her, startles her for longer than it should, given the circumstances.

She notices her mother first, and second Uchiha Itachi, arms resting on the sides of his regal chair—one of many—while he overlooks the bed where his child lay. His wife is sitting in a smaller chair next to his, and Sasuke's next to Itachi like a dutiful soldier. He looks up as soon as he hears the beads of the entrance echo in the ample, empty space of the room.

The moment he turns, her dazed eyes shift from her mother's form to his own eyes, and he looks back—and, for a second, there's something akin to betrayal in his eyes, a quiet rage beyond simple confusion at her presence in such an intimate, critical moment in his family's treasured lineage.

She immediately averts her gaze, choosing to watch as Tsunade approaches Itachi instead.

"My Pharaoh," she announces herself, and he turns to look away from the ill child slowly, as if he's forcing himself to do so. "We're here to offer support from the Gods themselves. We will help however much we can."

Itachi stands from the chair, gracefully strides toward them, and grabs Tsunade's hands with a concerned look in his eyes. For the first time, Sakura wonders how this gentle man could possibly be Sasuke's relative. His eyes are soft and his presence is calming, and he whispers something to the older woman with a kind smile. If not for the obvious Uchiha physical resemblance, it would be almost impossible to make the connection between him and his younger brother.

She spaces out, she thinks, for Itachi's looking behind Tsunade and at her after a few seconds, and Sakura doesn't know what he's saying.

"I see you have brought your apprentice?"

Sakura looks into his incredibly warm eyes and smiles, but slightly vows to him as soon as she remembers her place.

"If you don't mind, she will be watching as I help," Tsunade explains, sidestepping so as to make way for Itachi to see her. "Sakura has a natural gift for healing, you see."

Itachi nods, then smiles at the woman in front of him, looking past her a second later.

"Sakura, you say?" She hears him mumble, and only when she looks up again does she realise he's looking at some point in the room—at Sasuke in particular.

Sakura doesn't bother to check, but she's sure of it.

Itachi sighs. For a moment, he looks much older than he really is.

"Please, I fear he might not have enough time," he whispers to them, then he leads them to the child on the bed. "Mebuki, allow them to try."

Mebuki finally looks up at that, locks eyes with her daughter, and only freezes for a wobbly second. Sakura gives her a fleeting smile, and Mebuki only nods and steps away because she knows it is not the place to smile and exchange pleasantries with anyone at the moment.

Sakura looks back to the Pharaoh's son and watches as he lies unresponsive on the bed; if it weren't for the constant, subtle movement of his chest as he struggles to breathe, she would think him dead.

As most royal children, he has a shaved head and dark ink lining his eyes—though now, as he slumbers with sweat all over his face and dry tears staining his cheeks, it's all turning into a smudge of paint. He's covered from the waist down with white linen blankets and, though he's fast asleep, there's a frown to his brows from the pain she assumes he's bearing even now.

Tsunade starts asking questions, all after the other in succession as soon as she hears Mebuki—the assigned healer who has been assessing the child for over an hour—answer the first time.

"Pulse? Heart rate?"

"Frantic, it has been increasing over time."

"Has he woken up? When did this start?"

"I was notified as soon as the sun came up, and he has been in this state since yesterday night."

"What else can you tell me?" She asks, already pressing two fingers to the child's burning neck.

"His temperature is incredibly high, he started sweating a while back, but now he's stopped. However, he's started shaking slightly from time to time," her mother lists, glancing at them as Tsunade looks the child over, nodding once. "I presume it is poison, but I've never encountered this specific kind. If his last meal yesterday did this, it's certainly slow-moving and, most likely, lethal."

Tsunade nods again.

"I agree. It all points to poison being the cause but, by now, it has reached his bloodstream. Notice how he is not sweating anymore—that is a clear sign of infection."

Sakura inspects the young child from beside her mentor, and then she raises her head at the Pharaoh observing the entire ordeal, and at his wife beside him with her head down in her hands.

The pharaoh's wife lifts her head up and looks at Tsunade.

"What does that mean for him?" She asks, her tone laced with worry and underlined fear.

She's a beautiful, young woman, voice velvet smooth much like her husband's, with eyes as dark as the night and hair as black and long as it's customary for the Uchiha, but Sakura's heart skips a beat as she hears Tsunade next.

"I fear we are too late. If the poison has reached his blood, it won't be long before he ceases to breathe."

"No!" She exclaims, burying her face into her hands once more, weeping for a child that has been doomed to venture into the beyond far too soon in this life.

Death is always welcomed in this world, but death should not be welcomed this early. There are no other successors to the throne, no other heirs.

Sakura's breath catches in her throat at the display of utter despair from the woman. She, were it not for the dire circumstances, looks like an elegant, soft-spoken, kind Queen. Now, she has let all walls crumble down deep in her agony. Her wails are slightly muffled by her hands, but everyone hears them all the same.

Itachi, on the other hand, shows absolutely no emotion. He is expressionless as he gazes down at his pained, fragile son. And, in this calculating way, he does resemble Sasuke.

"Surely there must be something we can do," her mother whispers to Tsunade, making sure only Tsunade hears this. But her mother is a doctor and she knows there's nothing else they can do. Still, for appearances, she has to ask.

"I am truly sorry, but the infection has been spread far too much." Tsunade looks over at Itachi, and offers a final consolation. "I will send a magical healer specialised in incantations from the Gods, if you so wish. It could help. In any case, the child might get rid of these toxins on his own."

Sakura can almost hear the Queen's heart breaking from across the bed, hopeless. Itachi gives a reluctant nod and sighs wearily.

"You may go, then. Thank you," is all he says. He looks composed enough, taciturn, just like his brother standing next to him.

But as Sakura walks toward the exit of the room, she gives one last, final glance behind her, only to see Itachi pulling his wife close to him, and kissing the top of her head.

Sakura hugs her mother as soon as they step outside the room, but her mother is busy, and must depart. She does promise, however, that she will go visit her in her temple soon.

Sakura walks back to her temple alongside Tsunade not long after, looking down at the dirt after an unsuccessful visit to an ill person—not to mention the Pharaoh's son out of all people.

The blonde abruptly stops as they pass the entrance of the Palace.

"I need to go down to the village. I know a few divine healers that have done wonders."

Sakura ponders, for a second, why Tsunade did not recite any spells in that room minutes ago. After all, she holds the title of High Priestess of the entire city. She is the main, most knowledgeable, oldest Priestess in the Palace, and she is revered and respected by all.

She voices out her thoughts only because, between them, there is a trust she can't exactly explain.

"Why did you not recite the words of the Gods? Do you not believe in the powers they hold?"

It may be bold, but Tsunade is a tough, straightforward woman. Lenient enough, but strict when she deems it necessary. Sakura has never respected someone so much before she met her.

"I do, child," she states. "But I believe in the facts more. And that child upstairs is sick beyond any salvation."

Sakura swallows, watching as she turns and leaves through the gates.

Hours later, she watches as a rather old man, bald and limping, walks outside of the gates, followed by two guards. She sees as Tsunade bids him farewell in the distance, but even from this far away she can make out the sad, disappointed expression on her face as he departs.

Sometimes, she realises for possibly the first time, not even the Gods can help you.

Three days pass in silence. On the fourth, everyone in the nation knows the sole heir to the throne of the Uchiha ruling has died at the tender age of four from possible poison.

All hope is quickly lost, and the power of the Pharaoh is rendered useless. At least, that's what she hears from the servants of the Palace, who visit the village more than she's allowed to. For now, it's all gossip here and there, but even the most innocent of gossips can be deadly in enemy's hands.

The Uchiha don't take attacks lightly—and this is how Konoha has been able to survive as the most prosperous village of Fire. As such, Itachi reinforces the village's borders, as well as the Palace itself.

Sakura can't even begin to imagine the grief he must be feeling, but he still does it. He still commands and arranges and moves things around, and he secures his village successfully.

Sakura gets a visit from her mother and they talk, she meets with Naruto on her break everyday, and she keeps learning under the tutelage of Tsunade.

She doesn't see Sasuke for a number of days she doesn't bother to keep track of.

Sasuke turns fifteen on a humid, suffocating, hot day. He celebrates with Itachi, his wife, and Naruto. It's a quiet celebration consisting of a simple feast and small-talk.

Ever since the death of his nephew, the Queen has remained silent. She does not look at anyone, she does not talk to anyone, and she barely moves outside of the comfort of her bed. Today, he's surprised she sits at the table with them at all.

They drink beer and wine and enjoy the afternoon. Naruto, as expected, is the main entertainment of the evening, but Sasuke would rather have his incessant blabbering than a stagnant, uncomfortable silence he's sure would have ensued were the knucklehead not present.

After the meal, they each go into their rooms, but Sasuke goes outside.

Really, the worst thing he could do, with the dying sun still drilling into his sweaty skin like a glue. He feels the humidity in the air so much he can taste it. It's no wonder that there is no one outside other than the guards on duty.

Sasuke keeps walking, though, because it is the perfect opportunity to purify himself.

It is another year he is alive, another year he's reminded of the fate of his clan, another year he should be grateful he came unscathed from the fire.

It's not that he truly believes in divination, or the Gods for that matter, but his mother did. His mother used to go to the temple of Isis every morning, and pray for hours. She used to tie pretty rocks around his neck and Itachi's when they were younger, saying they had powers of some sort. She would whisper spells to them at night, when she thought they were asleep, asking for protection, health, and prosperity.

And she fully, genuinely believed the Nile had magical powers to those who seek them.

Unfortunately for her, he never had the ability within him to believe in any of it with such a tight grip as she used to, and he is not blind by the faith. But going to the temples from time to time reminds him of her, and makes him feel closer to his treasured, kind mother, lost too soon.

He can think of no better time than today, with this suffocating weather and on the day he was born, to bathe in the Nile in her memory.

The sacred river runs all along the border of Konoha, separating the village from the rest of the nation. There is one section that borders the Palace, which is secluded with fences from the village and the outside world, behind the three temples and down a steep hill.

Sasuke walks down the steps leading to the waters, hair sticking to his forehead from the excruciating heat. He reaches the bottom, and walks toward the bathing section.

It's an intricate, strategical section with wooden partitions placed in different locations, in a way that one can bathe without the intrusion of someone else in the near vicinity.

Not that he really cares, but he appreciates the semblance of privacy.

He strips himself of his robes, leaving them folded on the sand, and walks in the water until it reaches his thighs. He could almost thank the Gods for the relief of cold water on his warm skin. It's beyond refreshing.

The water is reaching his hips when he hears the splash of water nearby.

It shouldn't surprise him that there's someone else bathing today. They're smart, if anything.

Sasuke scoops up some water and pours it over his head. It's not enough, though, so he submerges himself in the freezing waters a second later, relishing in the feeling it gives him. He swims forward for as long as he can stand it before he is forced to come up for air.

He stands again and is met with long, flowing, light pink hair.

It's Sakura, unmistakably. There is probably no one in the entire world with such peculiar shade of hair, much less a Priestess—a shaved head, really, is what's customary, but if Tsunade has allowed this small freedom, it is not in his place to question it. She's facing away from him, looking off into the dying light of the sun in front of them.

But the movement of water behind her when he came up for air has startled her, and when she turns around and sees who it is, she immediately freezes on the spot, long hair flying around her and sticking to her small, pert breasts from turning so abruptly.

They are two steps away from each other, completely nude, staring at one another. She opens her mouth to say something, but it's as if she's stuck to the sand beneath her feet, completely paralysed and taken off guard by the unforeseen circumstances.

Sasuke, on the other hand, appears more in control—and, really, when does he not? Still, she notices that he chooses to remain silent as well, but his eyes speak for himself more than a thousand words ever could. They almost unconsciously drift from her own. Past her petrified green eyes, past her pink lips, past her smooth, slender neck.

She's only slightly shorter than him, so the water only reaches her bellybutton. Sasuke's eyes roam her body as far as he can see, and he notices everything. Much more than he would like to admit, and yet, in the mere five seconds he takes to appreciate what he has never had the chance to, he can't stop himself—and maybe, quite possibly, he does not want to.

Sakura sees him looking; it's quick, and it's with a calculating glint in his gaze, almost as if he's observing a map belonging to a foreign city. She might be frozen, in shock, and scared for her life, but she's aware of everything around her, including the distant, familiar yell she hears from up the hill.

Sasuke hears it too, because his gaze snaps up to her eyes again in immediate recognition. They wait a heartbeat, but when Naruto yells Sakura's name again, Sasuke starts looking more alarmed than shrewd in an instant.

"Is that-"

She doesn't get to finish her obvious question, for Sasuke grabs her wrist and pulls her behind one of the partitions, placed in a way that hides the Palace ahead. It's meant to be for one person, however, and the space between them becomes almost unbearably short.

Sasuke looks down at her and lets go of her wrist, a breath in between them, her chest brushing against his torso.

"Stay still," he commands her, whispering. "The last thing I need is for Naruto, the biggest loudmouth I know, to think a mistaken conviction if he sees us."

If he wasn't so close to her—if she couldn't smell him, feel his hot breath on her face, brush against his body by mistake—his words would have hurt way more.

As it is, she only nods. In a way, she understands, and it benefits her just as much, if not more. It wouldn't help either of them—a Prince and a royal Priestess in training—to be seen together in a sacred river like this, naked in front of the other. People might get a false belief. Especially someone like Naruto.

They stand still, and patiently wait for the blond to stop looking for her; it is her break, after all, and she had lost track of time in the water. She should be up there with him right now—and in a darker, secretive part of her, she knows she would rather Sasuke find her in this state than Naruto. Had Sasuke not arrived to bathe, and had Naruto found her in the water later instead, she would have never recovered; more so because, sometimes, she gets the feeling the blond might feel more than friendly infatuation for her, and she wouldn't know how to handle that situation.

Just by the thought of it, she feels a tremor run down her body. Sasuke feels it through her, and she stills again as he looks down at her with a frown.

"Sorry," she whispers, looking up at him.

A mistake from her part, really, because now he's staring at her pink lips, and she wants nothing more than the possibility of her first kiss being given by the boy she has always liked come to fruition.

"-Said she was going to the river. She'll be back soon."

Tsunade.

"I'll go check then, thanks, granny Tsunade!"

Naruto.

They stop breathing for a second at the concept of now facing Naruto if he walks all the way down to the river, but Sasuke barely hears the distant conversation now. All he can focus on is Sakura's annoyingly pink hair covering her breasts, reaching down to her waist, accentuating her gentle, soft curves. He looks down at the rose of her full cheeks, the subtle tan of her skin, and the faded freckles she has over the bridge of her nose. He had never noticed that before. He had also never noticed the exact shade of her eyes; and he realises, then, that there's no stationary hue. It's ever-changing, slightly, almost imperceptibly, but they are never the one dull green. They are blue, green, coral, yellow, some moss, and a forest of its own, and when she bats her pretty eyelashes at him, maybe only in this one moment, he can allow himself a small instance of weakness.

He's dipping his head down against his better judgement, slowly, still battling with the thoughts in his head.

"No, you won't! She's bathing, you will wait for her here and that is final!"

Sakura hears some complaining from her friend, and then it all falls silent.

She can assume he's gone, yet they remain, standing so close she can almost taste him like she has wanted to for years.

Sakura, with acute awareness of her situation, thinks this might be the only opportunity she may ever have to kiss the man of her dreams, and so she places her hands against his chest, and stands on her tiptoes. He is a Prince, and she is bound to the Gods, to her Temples, and to nothing more than that.

One day, she knows, he will reign over the cities of Fire. One day, she knows, he will be married to a beautiful woman who thinks alike, who complements him, who has black hair and black eyes as him to continue the pure bloodline of the Uchiha. One day, this will be strictly forbidden.

One day, but not right now.

Right now, she selfishly takes what she can get and kisses him sweetly, a soft caress against his awaiting lips, too short-lived to even know it truly happened, but electric enough to make her remember for an eternity.

She moves away.

He looks down at her with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. It had felt foreign, but not necessarily unnatural.

Sasuke has the sudden urge to dip his head down again to capture her soft lips fully, not like the superficial touch he had felt; to kiss her deeply, to grab her waist and press her body completely against his. The emotion makes him blink dizzily, and he clears his throat.

"I think he's gone now," Sasuke whispers, wanting nothing more than to compose himself.

The last thing he sees is the flash of hurt from her clear eyes, and then she's gone.

Sakura now sees him only when he comes to her Temple, like she saw him once so many months ago.

She finds that he likes to enter the Temple at night, close to the early morning, but still dark enough to conceal him from plain view. She observes him from the shadows of her room—which overlooks the back of the Temple, where Isis stands.

He only ever prays to Isis, for reasons unknown to her, and he does so silently. He kneels down and closes his eyes for seconds, minutes, and sometimes he stays for an entire hour. Sakura has seen him so often she can recognise his stealthy steps on the floor as he passes by the hallway of the temple's rooms in direction toward the statue of Isis, and she always wakes without fail.

If it's an invasion of privacy, she doesn't let that stop her. This is the only time she can see him at all these days, ever since the chaste kiss they shared so many weeks ago. And here, too, he shows a side of him she has never seen before. He is quiet, as usual, but he is at peace. There are no creases to his forehead, no furrowed brows, no purse to his lips.

He is the Sasuke she is beginning to love, if only from a distance.