AN: Labor Day long weekend = finally tying up this snippet I've been meaning to finish and edit :)
Chapter 2: A Poetic Sort of Procrastination, Indeed
Sakura saunters home late in the evening, admiring the stars above her in a daze of spring air and clutching her tote bag to her shoulder as if her very life force is tethered to it.
In the flurry of emotion, she completely forgot about returning her library books, but she doesn't give a damn.
She drudged through her entire pile of paperwork, though it was an almighty effort requiring every ounce of her discipline. Even after Sasuke left, she kept tearing up and just gawking at the impossibly beautiful gift he's given her, affection requited bubbling up inside her ribcage and unleashed into the air she breathes like some sort of ambrosial perfume she can finally afford to bask in. She has always known there is a softer side to him, that there is much more beneath the surface than he lets on with his laconic demeanor, but this is something else.
It's challenging to finish up discharge summaries and operative reports when one's vision keeps blurring, as it turns out.
And when one keeps pressing fingers to their lips in disbelief.
A poetic sort of procrastination, indeed.
She hangs her tote on its entryway hook and carefully removes the box inside once she reaches her apartment. After she's padded her way to her bedroom, she flips on the two lamps before placing it tenderly on her bed.
Sakura briefly contemplates taking the lid off then and there, but she knows she really should shower first, because otherwise the evening is going to quickly spiral away from her, whirlpool of tender feelings that it already is.
It's the quickest shower she's ever taken in her life; berry-scented soap floods her body and seems to take forever to rinse clean in her haste, although it can't actually be more than a minute or two in reality. It's also the quickest she's ever toweled off and changed into pajamas, scurrying back to her room and grabbing the first pair she lays eyes on from her dresser drawer.
Once she has shimmied them on, she opens the box again, and just looks.
It still exists - it doesn't disappear or dissolve as a figment of her imagination - so she picks it up with careful hands.
It is so, so pretty, exquisite in a way that makes her heart hammer relentlessly against her sternum, a catharsis in her chest sweeter somehow than anything she's ever experienced.
It's unavoidable; her eyes well with tears again, because he said he had it made for her. Not found in an antique shop off the beaten path or some happenstance market who knows how many miles away. Not just something that reminded him of her.
Made for me.
Which means he thought of this himself. Silk that shifts colors like the Uchiha crest, fastidiously stitched petals, and a cherry blossom tree, carved light wood that is startlingly similar in tone to the accents here in her bedroom.
And the way he looked at her, after, a storm of silver and obsidian that took her breath away.
And he kissed her.
Sakura doesn't know how she's supposed to fall asleep tonight, deliriously happy as she is, or how she's going to spend any of her free time from here on out not staring at this supernal treasure. She strokes the wood with careful fingers, bringing the carving upwards for closer inspection. Every inch of it is gorgeous; she is especially enamored with the pink and pearlescent stitching, coruscant in the low light. She assiduously counts the slivers of bamboo, too, and follows the rivulets of fine branches stretching upwards to the boundaries of the framework. Upon her inquest, she notices an impossibly tiny etching, faintly whittled on the interior of one of the slats of bamboo. Tai Ro, it says; she assumes that must be the craftsman's signature. She wonders where it came from, which far-off land Sasuke traveled through to commission something so resplendent.
She has never seen anything so bewitching, except maybe silver flecks.
Tearing her gaze away from the fan, Sakura eyes the vanity by her balcony door, an idea brewing.
It's an aged piece, of a bygone style featuring small drawers on each size and a sunken point in the middle, from which rises a large circular mirror. A framed copy of their original Team Seven portrait sits pushed against the framing, right in the center. She placed it there because she enjoys seeing it as she gets ready for the day. It's a good memory, one of her favorites, sentimental in a way that makes her heart swell, after everything. A pale wooden hairbrush also sits perched atop its surface, given to her by her mother forever ago while she was still at the Academy.
"I found it in the market today, just after swinging by to pick up rose food from Ino's mother. It's old, an antique, but I think it suits you, my dear," she'd said, ruffling her hair, still long at that point and chattering a mile a minute in the overbearing way she has always tended to. She'd brushed her already combed locks in the manner that Sakura thinks all mothers must with their daughters, even when they are starting to become too grown for that sort of thing. "What I wouldn't give for your hair! So unique; you should have something lovely to brush it with. You're already such a pretty girl, but someday you're going to bloom, and when you do, heaven help the boys."
There's a cherry blossom on it, too, adorning the back simply with five perfect petals.
When Sakura moved out of her parents' house, she chose the tones of her bedroom accents, inclusive of the frame, with it in mind; she'd been using it for years by then, and had developed a fondness for pale wood rooted in familial nostalgia. Most of her actual furniture in the room is secondhand, of an older variety and painted with a white stain to make them somewhat match - she prefers things with a little bit of history, has since her mom gifted her that hairbrush - but the few frames and wall-mounted shelves are lighter washes of wood.
Many of the surfaces in her apartment are cluttered with books and other knick knacks she has accumulated through the years, but she tries to keep the vanity's top clear, almost like an altar, an ode to the things she finds lovely atop it to give her hope with which to greet the day.
Still clutching the gift tenderly in her hands, Sakura ventures over to it.
She holds the fan close to the frame as well as the brush, comparing the color, near an exact match, a fresh memory making her heart swell in a completely different way, a way she had previously thought was maybe unrealistic.
She'll get a stand for it, she decides, and display it in the spot the frame currently sits; it would look perfect there, the curvature echoed above it in circular looking glass, a hairbrush of a similar stain beside it. Then she'll be able to gaze at it every morning and evening. There is no way something this precious to her could ever be stored away in a box and only seen on special occasions; it's the same reason she struggled with the idea of hiding his letters away in one.
No, Sakura is resolutely sure that admiring it will be a daily ritual.
She can relocate the photo frame to her bedside table, maybe, next to An Introduction to Electrocardiography, or perhaps to her living room, though it doesn't really match the wood out there.
That gets her thinking. We're... together now, right? He's kissed her, and she really hopes he will again, surprisingly soft lips against hers, an aroma of woodsmoke, and butterflies unleashed in her stomach. Maybe she should put it on the shelf in the main room. He might come over, sometime; it would be good to have it visible, situated in a place where he can see it.
With the utmost care, she lays the fan on the surface in front of her. Sakura combs through wet locks, coaxing out tangles with an old gift and appreciating a new one with watery eyes. When she's finished, she carefully clutches it again and admires it atop a lavender comforter for the better part of an hour, alternating between mentally mapping its fine stitching within the confines of her hippocampus and paging through her book of Sasuke's letters in a way that is more than fond, affection freed from her chest after so very long. The jubilance crests to a sense of omneity as she does so, moon glow filtering in by way of the gauzy white curtains that shield the balcony's glass door.
She absolutely can't wait to see him tomorrow. She sincerely hopes she's not dreaming all of this.
She is so enamored with it that she doesn't even drink her customary evening tea, her being warmed in an entirely different manner she is as of yet unaccustomed to, better than earl grey or some variety of dessert. It's immensely difficult to pry it from her own hands when the time comes to do so.
Always is the last word she thinks of before she succumbs to slumber, curled up in soft colors and hoping he has found somewhere comfortable to sleep. Treasured memories emanate from objects old and new, brewing together before a looking glass where she's placed them for safekeeping and admiration.
When she awakens in the morning, Sakura jerks upright in bed, turning to her vanity to ascertain if it was all a dream, cozened in by her subconscious as she slept.
It wasn't. The fan is still there, precious and so enchantingly beautiful, dawn flavoring the memory of Sasuke's return just as sweet as it had tasted yesterday with his lips on hers.
She brushes her hair again, working at the task way longer than necessary and trying not to cry out of sheer happiness. She feels so light, as if being pulled upwards by a latterly existent force of gravity, theoretically possible in terms of relative physics and with the right circumstances, but never actually experienced.
Birds are singing on the balcony when Sakura finally steps outside, snacking on seeds from her bird feeder as she gives her fledgling plants a drink before leaving for work.
It is such a lovely morning.
Sakura makes it through work as if encapsulated in a brand of inertial navigation system, floating as if she's a bizarrely sentient cloud from patients to test tubes. She feeds the mice and records the brief observations she usually does on Wednesdays, and then a Genin is being brought in with a linear fracture in their tibia, twisted wrong and impacted during training. She gives instructions to nurses, too, taking care of smaller tasks in between, part of her feeling like she is barely there.
Well, not barely. She still keeps her wits about her and heals people; she takes pride in what she does. She just… daydreams a little, too, sage, smoke, and silver occupying her spare moments, flitting in between the corridors of her head as she flits from exam room to exam room.
She's sitting at her desk, eating an early dinner and working on a new pile of paperwork before her next appointment arrives at five thirty, when one of Naruto's clones bangs on her window.
Her gaze shifts to the glass at the familiar boisterous whining of her name - "Sakura-chaaaaaaan!" - and she rises to open it the rest of the way, allowing him entry into her office, an easy grin coming to her lips.
"Naruto!" A million thoughts run through her head. He has to know Sasuke's back at this point, right? Has he seen him? He must be so happy.
Cyan bores into her, and he grins as he steps down. "Sakura-chan, teme's back! Can you believe it? Though I guess you knew since yesterday."
Sakura's cheeks warm at the implication of that, wondering how he knows this information, but her friend is plowing onwards.
"Anyways, wanna have an original Team Seven reunion dinner on Saturday night? Or maybe Sunday night? Kakashi-sensei said Saturday would be better for him, if it works for you. And we should also make it a housewarming party for teme, but Kakashi-sensei says DON'T tell him that, or he won't agree! It's a surprise."
Laughter erupts from her chest, rich and joyful, because it is crystalclear in that moment that Naruto is as elated at Sasuke's return as she is - okay, maybe not quite on the level that she is, but close - even through a clone. "Of course, we should! I don't have anything planned for Saturday night."
Her teammate grins, all infectious happiness in the way that is so utterly characteristic of him, eyes crinkling at their corners. "Good, great, awesome! Be sure to mention it to him when you see him at seven. I'm sure if you suggest it, he'll definitely agree." Sakura blinks in surprise, cheeks staining darker. "Man, this is gonna be so great! Team Seven is fucking back! I can't wait to get a mission! It'll be just like old times. I gotta tell Hinata-chan, too!"
She can't help it; she smiles so wide that it hurts her face, tears paying her another visit. Sasuke's back. He's really back. And-
"Well, anyways, I'll leave you to eat your dinner, Sakura-chan, but we have to force him to be social. I can't wait to spar! But also, we gotta have a picnic, and no tying me to the pole this time. We could even challenge Kakashi-sensei to get off his ass and give us another go at the bell test. And, and! We should have a movie night. And go drinking! I've never seen teme drunk. I bet he's a lightweight, and he'll probably say all sorts of embarrassing shit! And-" Naruto's clone's expression turns unexpectedly serious, blue eyes suddenly narrowing in a way that is all-seeing and a tan finger suddenly pointing at her accusingly.
"-I mean social outside of you and him, Sakura-chan! Don't think for a second that you're gonna escape my questions later, when my brain isn't fried from staring at that stupid scroll Kakashi-sensei has me slaving over. I want answers."
And then Naruto's clone disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving her blinking in a strange combination of bewilderment and somehow, shyness, too.
And ebullience. Mostly ebullience.
She stands there grinning like an idiot for a long time. She can't wait to see him at seven.
AN: Soooo writing Sakura's POV is fun. Eventually I intend to have a chapter of this fic for every chapter of Like Gold, set roughly in the same time frame. Some of them are bound to be much, much shorter, but I have a lot of ideas, and some things that I would like to flesh out for certain… events. Also, the hairbrush with the cherry blossom on it is a reference to the cover art of Chapter 50 of Naruto, where Sakura is brushing her newly shortened hair. :)
Thank you for reading, and let me know your thoughts!