CHAPTER 24
Life was the same as usual, Itachi concluded when he woke up.
He tucked an arm under his head, allowing himself a few more moments under the warm sheets. Though he owned an alarm clock, he hadn't needed one for years. Since taking care of Sarada, he would infallibly wake up at six-thirty every morning to be at the Uchiha home just in time to see Sakura off to the hospital. It had been weeks since he had last taken care of Sarada, but the body wasn't quick to forget.
He passed a hand over his face, pinching his brow as he tucked away the slew of thoughts and memories that washed over him every time he thought of his sister-in-law. Letting out a toe-curling yawn, he slid out from under the sheets and stood, stretching until his joints popped. From the dresser, he took a shirt and pulled it over his head, then grabbed a tie and gathered his hair into a ponytail while heading toward the bathroom.
There was a certain kind of systematic approach to life that he enjoyed. He woke up at the same time every day, did his daily ablutions in the bathroom, studied the way he was aging in the mirror for a moment—it seemed a new line formed every day on his face—then ate breakfast.
Since that particular night though, a challenge hampered his breakfast needs.
He stepped into the living area, eyes drawn to the couch, as they were every morning. He didn't need the Sharingan to remember that night, when she had shown up without warning after he had spent most of the day hating himself for nearly giving in to something he knew both of them would regret. But having her in his arms and knowing she came to him for comfort despite what had happened only served to be the catalyst in what turned out to be a disastrous night.
Itachi didn't need the Sharingan to recall perfectly how she had looked at him, how her hand in his had felt, the raw desire she showed, her soft lips against his, her rapturous expressions. Another part of him betrayed him then, a tight pressure coming to his chest as blood flowed to his groin while he struggled to fend off the memories of her breasts pushed against him, the little moans that had fallen from her lips—the needy way she sighed his name. He reached out to the couch, fingers gripping the fabric as he struggled with his lightheadedness, something he hadn't experienced since he had been cured from his illness, but which seemed to be a ceaseless symptom whenever he was in close proximity to Sakura, or even thought of her. Indeed, it was one of the facets that had piqued his fascination with her in the first place.
He forced himself to suck in deep breath, adjusted his budding erection, and let go of the sofa when the vertigo passed.
The memories and subsequent arousal came to him in a barrage every morning, reminding him that he had ruined something he had valued more than his own life—yet there was a twisted part in him that enjoyed reliving the memories, wishing he could turn back time to that night for just a moment and be there with her once more.
An ironic smile came to his face, then, blessedly, his feet led him into the kitchen, where he proceeded to make a quick breakfast. After checking his refrigerator and pantry, he made a list for himself and set out toward the market.
'Yes , ' he thought. 'Life is the same as usual. Just... less colorful . '
At the market, the usual old ladies harassed him about Mikoto's recipes, now curious to know her grilled eel recipe. Itachi patiently explained his process while he waited for the fishmonger to pack up his order, then politely excused himself to make his way to the fruit stand, where a woman in her thirties squeezed a banana a little too hard when she noticed his approach and sent it flying, her face red with embarrassment. He picked up his essentials, offering a friendly smile to the woman, who was clearly working up the courage to talk to him, then quickly departed, checking his list to ensure he had all he needed.
His next stop took him to the convenience store. "Good morning," he greeted the clerk as he walked in, heading for the dairy section. He stood in front of the soymilk, debating between a new brand and his usual, when the sound of pattering feet caught his attention.
Sarada bumbled around the corner, eyes filled with happy tears, beaming brightly as she rushed toward him and leapt into his arms. Promptly, he dropped all of his groceries to catch his niece, instantly feeling warmer as she wrapped her small arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his neck. She smelled of soap and her strawberry shampoo, deeply familiar to him. He patted her silky hair and pulled her in closer, reciprocating her hug while feeling as though something he had lost suddenly returned to him. "Uncle Ita!"
"Hello there," he said with a smile.
"I missed you," Sarada said, pulling back to look up at him.
"I missed you, too," he replied, touched by the happiness clear on her features. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, but even as he did so, he looked over her head, mentally preparing to see Sakura again, only to find his younger brother approaching them.
"Nii-san," Sasuke greeted, mismatched eyes flickering to the discarded bags on the floor. "Caught you by surprise?"
"I must be getting old."
"You're not old. Papa is old," Sarada said with a sage nod.
Itachi chuckled at that. "Actually, I am five years older than papa," he said at the same time that Sasuke grumbled: "I am not that old."
Amusement flashed in Sasuke's eyes as he looked at his daughter with fondness before finding Itachi once more.
Itachi crouched down and let go of Sarada, holding onto the hand she offered him. "How was the summit?"
"Sakura told you?" Sasuke asked, checking a list of his own. On it, Itachi recognized Sakura's slanted, elegant handwriting, and the sight sent a small stab into his heart.
Sasuke reached into one of the refrigerators to take out the brand of milk Sakura and Sarada enjoyed, dropped it into his basket and turned back to Itachi. "The decision was made to send out more exploration missions to map the country and the extent of the bases and forces before any real decisions are made."
"I see. A joint effort?"
"Hm," Sasuke said, indicating he couldn't talk about it further. Itachi nodded in understanding.
"You're staying?"
"For the foreseeable future, yes."
"What is for—fore?" Sarada asked, then tried a garbled attempt to pronounce the word.
"Expected?" Sasuke tried.
Sarada shook her head, not understanding.
"As far as papa knows," Itachi said.
"Ah." Sarada put her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of Sakura, nodding sagely, then turned back to Itachi. "Can you come, Uncle Ita?"
"You should," Sasuke said before Itachi could reply. "Sakura is making nabe tonight, and Sarada misses you. Plus, we haven't seen much of—" A blush tinged his cheeks—Itachi knew Sasuke always found it hard to express his emotions toward him, even now. The thought warmed Itachi even as guilt rushed through him, mixing with trepidation at the thought of seeing Sakura again.
Not to mention the tiniest bit of him that felt excitement.
"Yes, come," Sarada said. She pouted at him, shaking at his sleeve with both hands as her eyes filled with tears. He gave Sasuke a questioning look from the corner of his eye, one that his brother answered with a shrug.
Sarada was getting too persuasive.
"Alright," Itachi conceded, stroking the top of her head. "Thank you for the invitation."
"Of course," Sasuke said. "Six o'clock? I'll let Sakura know."
"I'll be there," Itachi said. The smile Sarada gave him warmed him on the inside, and, feeling again like something he had denied himself finally returned to him, there was a part of him that wanted to pick her up and give her another hug, but he refrained. Instead, he ruffled her hair once more, then gave Sasuke a nod as his younger brother signaled for Sarada to come. She rushed after her father, diligently holding onto his pants as Sasuke made for the dessert section, undoubtedly picking up the dango Sakura enjoyed.
Itachi stood in the aisle for a moment longer, unsure what he had gotten himself into, but the thought of returning to that home, which felt more like his home than his actual apartment, filled him with the kind of excitement he hadn't felt since he was a child.
With it came the thought that he was going to see Sakura for the first time in weeks, and if possible, the center of his body burned even brighter with the prospect.
At five to six, Itachi stood in front of the only other Uchiha apartment in Konoha and knocked.
Immediately, he heard a happy cry from Sarada on the other side of the door, followed by the muffled footsteps of an adult—Sasuke's, certainly. The door opened, and Sarada stood in the entrance, holding onto the doorknob with both hands, Sasuke behind her, and carefully peered out to see who it was. When she saw Itachi, a grin burst across her face, and she hurriedly opened the door further.
Sasuke praised her for doing a good job and gave him a nod. As Itachi stepped inside, it felt like the white-washed world in which he had lived for weeks suddenly flooded with color again, the warmth of the home embracing him as Sarada cuddled his leg. The smell of the nabe broth was enticing, and out of habit, he looked toward the kitchen, only to find Sakura sticking her head out.
The world seemed to stop, as it was wont to do whenever he laid eyes on her. As though time itself ticked away at a fraction of its usual pace, he watched as the world narrowed to just the two of them, strength sapping from his body as her lips slowly slanted upward to smile at him, her graceful fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He saw her lips move and knew somewhere deep inside that she had greeted him, affection lacing every syllable of his name, ending with that breathy way she usually pronounced ' chi ' with. Heart pounding heavily in his chest and ears, Itachi forced himself to concentrate on his breathing until the tunnel vision receded and time sped up once more.
She blinked at him, the smile that lit her face faltering for the briefest of moments until he matched it with one of his own–an instinctual reaction to seeing her, as well as a reassurance for her. It felt as though the past weeks had never happened, as if it were all a bad dream, while Sarada closed the door behind him and Sasuke took the dessert Itachi had brought with him.
"Sakura," he said in greeting. She ducked back into the kitchen, presumably to finish preparing the nabe.
With a smile, Itachi reached for his niece, lifting her with ease. She grabbed his shoulders as he moved them to the couch and sat down. Sasuke withdrew to the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass of water.
"What have you been up to?" Itachi asked Sarada.
"Shopping!" she exclaimed with glee. "Played with snakes!"
"Snakes?" He lifted an eyebrow.
"Papa's snake!"
"Summons," Sasuke explained, blushing lightly. "I was talking to Aoda and the others to see if they had heard any news."
"Aoda is papa's big snake!" Sarada added enthusiastically, only serving to further redden Sasuke's cheeks.
Itachi let out an understanding chuckle, then changed the subject to aid his tormented younger brother. "Any news?"
"No," Sasuke said. "I left a few of them around the world, but nothing."
"That is good."
"For now," Sasuke said, confirming Itachi's suspicions. His fingers played with the glass on the table in front of him. "How... How have you been? Sakura told me you helped while I was gone."
Itachi was accustomed to reading underneath the underneath. Man to man, he was asked a question, and he smiled at his younger brother in response, stifling the self-loathing voice that seemed incessant these days. He nodded, and a softness returned to Sasuke's eyes as he visibly relaxed. "I'm adjusting," Itachi said honestly.
Sasuke nodded, a deep understanding in his mismatched eyes. "Me too," he said softly, watching his daughter toy with Itachi's ponytail. Itachi looked down to find Sarada braiding his hair carefully, her tongue sticking out as she worked one strand at a time.
"What are you doing there kiddo?" Sakura asked. She had stepped out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a dishcloth as she smiled at her child. From the corner of his eye, Itachi admired the color of her green sweater–it complimented her hair color beautifully. Faintly, he wondered if it made her eyes look even greener.
"Making Uncle Ita pretty," Sarada replied.
"Am I not pretty now?" Itachi asked.
"More pretty."
"Oh," Itachi said, looking up at Sakura and Sasuke. Sasuke grinned, taking a sip of his water. Sakura was giggling, the sound of it light and lilting, then she looked at him. Her face betrayed nothing—to the rest of the world, she looked the same, regarded him in the exact same fashion, as she always did. To Itachi, though, he noticed how tense she was; she was breathing slightly irregularly, and her fingers were tight around the dishcloth, but despite that, the smile she directed at him seemed completely genuine. The familiar pressure on his chest returned.
"I'm glad Sasuke and Sarada ran into you," she said. "It's been a while."
"It has," Itachi agreed, stroking Sarada's cheek. "I've been busy with a few missions."
"Missions?" Sarada asked, eyes wide as she looked up at him.
"Yes."
"What missions?" she pressed, placing her hands on his chest as if to hold him in place.
"Well, there was the one where I escorted a princess from one country to another," Itachi recalled.
"Like Princess Ponpon?" Sarada asked, eyes growing wider.
"Well," Itachi began, remembering that particular mission. It had been two or three days since Saku—since that day, and in his desperation to run as he always had done, he turned to Naruto, who had assigned him to what might have been the most boorish of all princesses in the Five Nations. He thought little of propriety and delicacy, nor was it his opinion that all women should be refined, but there was something off-putting about traveling with a woman who constantly picked her nose and proceeded to eat whatever she managed to scavenge. Not to mention the horrific flatulence she insisted he partook in, instead of sneaking off, or at least standing downwind from him. "She was a lovely princess."
Sarada made an envious sound and returned with vigor to braiding.
"Which princess?" Sasuke asked.
"The third daughter of the Daimyou," Itachi said.
"Setsuko?"
"Sayuri," Itachi answered.
"Oh," Sakura chimed in. "Does she still have that fart problem?"
Unable to stop himself, he looked up to find her with the exact same curiosity Sarada had painted on her face. He nodded, and Sakura grinned widely, sharing a knowing look with Sasuke, who suddenly looked like he had smelled something horrible.
"We had to escort her once when we were still genin," Sakura explained. "I think Naruto complained for weeks."
"It was bad," Sasuke supplied helpfully.
"Can you imagine Kakashi though?" Sakura laughed, looking between the both of them. "Mask or no mask, that man's senses are too keen for his own good." She trailed back into the kitchen, still laughing to herself.
"Can I help princesses too when I go to the Academy?" Sarada asked, still working his hair.
"You can help all the princesses," Itachi promised.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Dinner is ready," Sakura called, prompting the three of them to the dinner table.
Itachi took a place at his usual seat, watching Sarada standing at the head of the table, thumb in her mouth as she seemed to consider something carefully. With a slightly apologetic look in her eyes, she padded toward Sakura's empty chair next to Sasuke, who sat across from Itachi, and climbed onto it, head barely peeking out over the table. Before Sasuke could glance at him, Itachi handed him the pillow Sarada usually sat on, and while Sasuke helped her get onto it, Sakura stepped out of the kitchen holding a massive nabe pot.
She took one look at Sarada sitting in Sakura's chair and placed the pot in the center of the table. She curled her hair behind her ear and took the empty seat beside Itachi, bumping her knee against his thigh in the process. While the table had seemed large enough before, Itachi had always sat next to Sarada, or by himself—now, he suddenly became aware how small the table actually was as the length of his thigh rested against Sakura's. His peripheral vision constricted once more, and though he could hear Sarada and Sasuke talking, all he could see was Sakura beside him, from the way her hair twisted behind her ear to the length of her dark-pink lashes, the plumpness of her lips and the fibers of her green sweater, all vivid and unnaturally sharp in detail as his entire being focused on her.
Careful to keep his face straight, he reached for a piece of cabbage, placing it in the pot while watching Sasuke help Sarada pick out some vegetables—she was still refusing to eat every green and red vegetable, only perking up when Sasuke took a piece of eggplant. Meanwhile, Sakura seemed to have frozen beside him, not moving at all. He wondered if the feel of his leg against hers was bringing out the same warmth in her chest, the same sense that they were the only two people in the world, but chose not to think about it, shelving the thought for when he returned to his own home.
This close to her, he could smell the soap on her skin, her floral green shampoo (which she once insisted for some reason he could not fathom was not dog shampoo), and the light floral scent of her perfume.
Do you think we'll ever be able to go back to what we were?
Part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Clan-killer, S-Class criminal, brought back into the fold and finding forgiveness where he expected none, only to develop feelings for his sister-in-law. It seemed the universe enjoyed playing tricks on him, and Itachi wasn't particularly fond of that motif in his life.
Do you think we'll ever be able to go back to what we were?
What were they like before that night? Not even the night in his apartment, or the night before that when he had wanted to kiss her but managed to restrain himself. What were they like in the days, months, years that led up to him trying to take a sake bottle from the top shelf for her, only to find her pushing herself against him, looking at him with that intense expression in her eyes? It was like his entire world had narrowed to just a few moments snatched from three separate days, and all else had ceased to exist.
But it was there. The friendship that had started when he found her in the middle of the streets as she began having contractions, the connection they had felt to each other and nourished by months of spending time together and getting to know one another. He remembered the mornings spent cooking for the both of them. He remembered the nights he had spent in the guestroom, looking after Sarada. He remembered the evenings he had spent with Sakura, talking about philosophy and Akatsuki and his parents. It all existed long before they spiraled into feelings of attraction and fascination.
He hadn't forgotten that she had given him a home—a place to simply be.
' Yes ,' he thought, taking a breath before turning to Sakura.
"Would you like some shiitake?"
She smiled carefully. "Yes."
With that, he dropped the two mushrooms into the broth, smiling at Sarada as he pushed down the feeling of excitement that came with being so close to Sakura, locking them away in the deepest parts of his mind. He stopped consciously breathing in her scent, stopped focusing on the heat of her strong leg pressed against his, stopped listening to every inflection of her voice as she talked to Sarada and Sasuke. It happened easily enough, his brain accustomed to a lifetime of denying himself.
If he stopped paying attention to her, then surely, surely , this feeling would eventually pass and they could go back to what they once were.
Surely .
Later, he stood with Sasuke on the porch, overlooking the garden. Even in the dark, it was easy to see the small patch of grass that had been scorched by fire—no doubt Sasuke had been practicing jutsu in the garden since he had returned. He enjoyed working on his fire techniques, always had. The thought brought a smile to Itachi's face.
"Nii-san," Sasuke spoke, eyes trained on the thin sliver of silver that hung in the sky.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
Itachi turned to his younger brother, guilt twisting and turning as it roused and festered deep within. "Of course," he said, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. It didn't help that a kind smile formed on Sasuke's lips as he looked at Itachi out of the corner of his eye.
"I reall—" Sasuke paused, embarrassed, but then continued: "I knew you would be here for them. And I appreciate it." Then, falteringly, he brought his hand to Itachi's shoulder.
The gesture was a small one—something that could have been easily dismissed if it were anyone but his younger brother. But the shy smile on Sasuke's face transported Itachi decades back in time, when Sasuke would give him that smile while asking him for training or if he could come along on missions—innocent, earnest, perhaps even a little idolatrous. Another wave of detestation came over him as he remembered how abhorrently he had behaved. But he swallowed the bitterness of his own actions and brought up his own hand, grasping Sasuke's shoulder in kind.
"I haven't been the best father," Sasuke whispered.
"You were away."
"That's not an excuse."
"It's not," Itachi said. "But it is the reality of the situation."
"Hm." Sasuke exhaled, eyes returning to the star-strewn sky. "Sakura asked me if I could stay, and I will. But... My work isn't finished yet. If I have to leave again..."
"I'll be here."
Sasuke's fingers tightened on Itachi's shoulder in appreciation. "Thank you."
Unable to stop himself, Itachi turned to his younger brother and grabbed his head, pressing his forehead against Sasuke's. "Sasuke. You never have to forgive me. Just know that no matter what happens, no matter what choices we make from now on, I will love you forever."
Shock registered in midnight and purple that widened as Sasuke blinked in confusion before he shyly averted his eyes. Itachi smiled at him, at the man his brother had turned out to be, a sense of pride and love near bursting out of his chest. He was not perfect, neither of them were, but each in their own way, they tried.
"Thank you for the invitation," Itachi said, slipping his hand from Sasuke's head.
Sasuke nodded mutely, clearly unsure of what to say or to make of Itachi's sudden display of affection, but Itachi simply squeezed his shoulder one more time, then stepped into the house.
Sakura was in the kitchen, finishing the dishes. She looked up as he peered inside, her face more expressive now that they were alone. It was clear she was searching for something to say to him, now that they were alone for the first time since that night. If he still had his Sharingan, perhaps he would have burned the sight of her into his memories as he wordlessly said goodbye to her, and to the last five years of his life, knowing that they could one day return to being friends, but it would never be like it used to be.
"Good night Sakura," Itachi said with an upturn of the lips. A multitude of emotions and thoughts crossed her face, but he departed before she could voice them.
In the end, Sakura had responded to him. To his slipping of the mask, his attentions as he struggled with his fascination with her. She had become a fixture in his life, showing him what life could be if he could find someone to share it with. For a few beautiful years, he had nearly forgotten that this wasn't his home, not his family, not his wife. He had yearned for what Sasuke had, but wasn't there to enjoy. Living another man's life, but not Uchiha Itachi's.
He looked up at the moon, then turned to the home that was saturated with color, life, and warmth, the fragrance of a homemade dinner, the sounds that belonged to a child and a wife that weren't his, then turned and walked into the gray-scale world.
end of part II
PART III
Chapter 25
Something sliding in between her and Sasuke rudely awakened Sakura. Instinctively, she tensed until Sasuke reached out and wrapped his palm around hers, reassuring her that the bump wasn't dangerous—simply their daughter crawling toward the head of the bed between the two of them until she finally popped out from beneath the sheets, a mess of hair that could rival Kakashi's with ease sticking out first before Sarada's face made it from under the sheets.
"Mama, happy birthday!" she said happily, settling in with a brilliant grin on her lips. She leaned in and kissed Sakura's cheek, then turned to Sasuke, giggling at him. "Papa, your face."
"What's wrong with my face?" Sasuke asked, voice laced with drowsiness. Sakura giggled along with Sarada as her eyes slid from Sasuke's messy raven hair to his half-lidded eyes, sleep doing its best to keep them closed. He frowned, lifting a head to check the clock on Sakura's nightstand.
"Sleepy," Sarada observed.
"I just woke up." Sasuke rubbed his eyes. Sarada took the opportunity to slide into his arms and hug him close, eliciting a smile from him. "Good morning," he said, reaching to ruffle her hair.
" Papa ," Sarada huffed, as she sat upright to straighten her hair.
"Now you look like me," Sasuke said, a smirk making its way on his sleepy face.
"She always looks like you," Sakura groused.
"Her hair color and eyes maybe, but she's got your face."
"I don't look like mama," Sarada said, still patting down her hair.
"You do," Sasuke said, propping the pillow under his head.
"Do not."
"She does not," Sakura joined in, winking at Sarada.
"Here," Sasuke sighed, tapping his finger on Sarada's nose. "She's got your nose." He gave her a scrutinizing look. "And your mouth."
"Mama's mouth is bigger."
"Rude."
Sarada giggled as Sakura surged forward to tickle her and take her into her arms. She hugged Sarada close to her and fell back into the pillows. "So, we have the same nose and mouth?" she asked, pressing her face against Sarada's for assessment.
"Hm," Sasuke agreed. "And you're both morning people."
"I wouldn't go that far," Sakura laughed as Sarada wrestled herself free. Sarada climbed to her feet, shaking a little on the bed as she pumped her fist into the air.
"Mama!"
"Yes, kiddo?"
"I'm making breakfast!"
"Okay," Sakura smiled, watching Sarada as she bumbled to the end of the bed, hopped off, then dashed for the door. Sasuke sat next to Sakura, bewildered by his daughter. Just when she was about to slip out from under the covers, he took her wrist and pulled her toward him, gently kissing her.
"Happy birthday," he said.
"How does it feel being with an old hag?"
He frowned at her. "You're not an old hag."
She cupped his face. "It was a joke." With another kiss, she stood and made for the dresser, stretching along the way. She found sweatpants and a bra, and stripped off her shirt.
Sasuke yawned and pushed his hair back, watching appreciatively as she put her bra on. "Going somewhere?" he asked.
"Why?"
"The bra."
"Oh." Sakura put a foot through the leg of her sweatpants. "No. I just am more comfortable wearing a bra when I'm downstairs."
On Sasuke's face, she could see he dismissed it as one of her quirks, an elegant eyebrow lifting, but he didn't press for answers. He slid out from under the covers, scratching his stomach under his shirt, then passed by her on his way to the bathroom.
A peek in the mirror told Sakura she was blushing, but she didn't stop to consider the reason, instead heading downstairs to see what her daughter considered to be a birthday breakfast.
As she arrived at the kitchen table, Sakura found Sarada had grabbed a small stool and was now standing on top of it, carefully pouring hot water into a cup. The delicate aroma of jasmine tea—her favorite—wafted in her direction. It was a fancy jasmine tea from a far-off country Itachi had given her as a present for her last birthday.
"Are you making me tea?" Sakura asked, peering over Sarada's shoulder. Her daughter had even gotten a thermometer, which hung almost clumsily from the kettle. Afraid it would fall down at any given moment, Sakura plucked it from the kettle, read the temperature, then set it down on the counter.
Sarada nodded, tongue sticking out in concentration as she ensured she wetted every individual tea leaf before she filled up the cup to the rim.
"How did you know that was my favorite?" Sakura asked, kissing the top of her head after Sarada put the kettle back down.
"Uncle Ita," Sarada replied enthusiastically.
A pang of sadness shot through her, but Sakura tucked it away. "Did he also show you how to do the temperature?"
"Yes!" she said. She took the thermometer and showed Sakura, stubby fingers pointing at the display. "Mama's favorite tea is this hot." She pointed to the ninety degree range. "Uncle Ita's favorite."
"Smart girl," Sakura laughed as Sasuke entered the kitchen. He looked like he had splashed some water over his face, some droplets still clinging to his hair. At the sight of his wife and child, a tiny smile flashed over his face before the discarded jasmine tea package distracted him.
"I didn't know you liked this brand," Sasuke said, reading the package. "We always had this brand when..."
His voice cut out as he set the tea back down, lost in the past for a moment.
"Well, maybe you don't know everything about me," Sakura quipped to break his mood, giving her husband a wink as she squeezed his bicep, letting him know she was joking. He peered at her through his lashes and nodded, letting her know he appreciated her perceptiveness.
"Evidently," he said, setting the package down before wrapping his arm around her waist and laying his chin on her head as he examined what Sarada was doing. "What's for breakfast?"
Sarada climbed off the stool and grabbed the fridge door handle with both hands, giving it a firm tug to open it, then stuck her head in for close scrutiny. Sakura and Sasuke shared a look while Sarada nearly climbed into the fridge, only to withdraw her head and make a face of consternation. "Uhm," she said, peeking back into the fridge. "Uhmm."
Knowing enough, Sasuke released his hold on Sakura and circled around her, joining Sarada at the fridge. He crouched down, softly discussing something with her, both of them glancing at Sakura at intermittent times as she reached for her tea and drank from it. It was absolute perfection. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the mild bitterness on her tongue, the sweet floral aroma permeating the air, and the sunshine that slanted in through the kitchen window. Oddly, though, a feeling of wistfulness overcame her for a moment, until Sarada grabbed her leg and looked up at her.
"Mama," she said.
"What is it, kiddo?"
"Papa is making breakfast." Sarada took Sakura's hand and guided her out of the kitchen just as Sasuke grabbed the rice. They went into the living room, Sakura taking a seat on the couch while Sarada riffled through her books, looking for one for Sakura to read. Moments later, she clambered onto the couch and into Sakura's arms, depositing a book with a woman at a loom on the cover.
"What is this?"
"Mebu gave it!"
" The Seamstress and the Birdkeeper ," Sakura read, taking a sip of her tea. She placed it on the table and opened the book. "'Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess named Orihime. Daughter of the god of heavens, she grew up loved by all, but her only love was the loom.'"
"What is a loom?"
"Hmm, it's a thing you use to weave with."
"Weave?"
Sakura tapped her chin in consideration. "Weaving is where you make a picture by carefully adding one thread after another. It's very difficult."
"Wow," Sarada said, mouth falling open.
"'Princess Orihime created beautiful fabrics and clothes, and all the gods and goddesses cheered on her talent and asked her to create more and more. Princess Orihime worked day and night trying to fulfill the gods' wishes, but with time, she became sad and despaired, that which she loved turning into something she resented.'"
Sakura frowned and closed the book, checking the cover. "Wind Country," she said, reading the author's mini biography. "They like their dramas."
"Mama."
"Alright," Sakura said, flipping back to where she had left off. An illustration of the princess, depicted with flowing lilac hair and green eyes, was on the right page. She sat at her loom on the side of a star-strewn river, watching a man on the other side of the river, birds circling around him. "'Princess Orihime became fearful that she would never find love. Her father, who loved her dearly, arranged for her to meet Torimaru, a birdkeeper who trained crows, the messengers of the gods. Torimaru lived on the other side of the heavenly river. The two instantly fell in love.'" She paused and frowned. "Sarada?"
"Yes?"
"Sometimes people fall in love really quickly. I fell in love with your father on the day we met... But sometimes, it takes a little longer. And there's nothing wrong with that."
"What about papa?"
"Papa was..." Busy plotting revenge against Uncle Ita because he killed his entire family on orders of the village we now live in, too busy to notice her until his hatred abated and he was finally granted the opportunity to be a person instead of a vessel of vengeance. "It took papa a little while to notice me."
"Oh."
"But there is nothing wrong with that," Sakura said, tilting Sarada's chin toward her. "In fact, I'm happy it took a while. I got to know papa really well."
"Okay," Sarada nodded. She bounced with impatience.
"Okay," Sakura replied. "'Their love and devotion was so deep that Orihime stopped weaving, and Torimaru allowed his crows to fly free in the heavens.'"
"What is this about crows in heavens?" Sasuke asked, an eyebrow lifting as he peeked around the corner. She lifted the book for him to read the title and soundlessly whispered ' Mebuki' to him, causing him to shrug in understanding and depart from the room again.
"'Princess Orihime's father became angry and forbade the lovers to be together, but Princess Orihime pleaded with him to allow them to stay. Out of love for his daughter, the god of heavens decreed that the two star-crossed lovers could meet once a year, on the sixth day of the sixth month, if Orihime returned to her weaving. On the first day they were to be reunited, they found the river to be too difficult to cross. Princess Orihime became so despondent'—that means panicked, sad—'that a flock of Torimaru's crows came and made a bridge for her. On that one day, Princess Orihime and Torimaru are united in the sky, and their stars shine brighter along the heavenly river, the Milky Way. The end.'"
Sarada frowned. "How do crows make bridges?"
"That," Sakura tapped Sarada's nose, "You'll have to ask your grandmother."
"Breakfast," Sasuke said then, placing bowls of miso soup and rice on the table, along with a fresh salad—Sasuke always had to have a salad or something tomato-based during breakfast—and tamagoyaki.
"What is that?" Sarada asked, peering at the tamagoyaki.
"It's tamagoyaki," Sasuke said, not understanding. "Egg?"
"Oh," she seemed surprised.
"You don't like eggs?" he asked, taking a seat at the table.
"I never eat eggs."
"Itachi usually makes breakfast," Sakura explained, taking a sip of her tea as she approached the table. "On days I'm at the hospital, that is. I don't think he's too fond of them."
"Ah," Sasuke replied, understanding coming to his eyes. "Nii-san can't make eggs."
She blinked. "What?"
Sasuke looked up at her, confused for a moment. Then a smirk lit his face. "He didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"He can't make eggs."
"How can one not make eggs?"
"He burns them."
She sat down, feeling like the world was suddenly spinning in reverse as she tried to compute the fact that Itachi—perfect Uchiha Itachi—couldn't make something as trivial as eggs. "You're kidding me."
"I had too many bad eggs when I was younger to be joking about this."
"What does he do with them?" she asked, fascinated by this detail.
"I—I don't—Sakura, it's just eggs," Sasuke said, cutting up a piece of tamagoyaki for Sarada. He seemed confused by her excitement at finally knowing Itachi's weakness. She was so going to tease him with it for the rest—
It occurred to her then that they weren't actually talking. Neither Sasuke nor she had seen him since the day he came over for nabe, and Naruto had informed them he had taken a longer mission outside of Konoha. While he was due to return any day now, it had been weeks since she had last seen him.
As if it were only seconds ago, the memory of him standing in the kitchen entrance, staring at her with that light smile playing around his lips and that indefinable look in his eyes, returned to her, along with the melancholy that she had managed to tuck away. Her smile faded from her lips as she set about cutting a piece of tamagoyaki for herself and held up a plate for Sasuke to spoon some salad in, eyes cutting to the chair Itachi used to use all the time, now vacant.
While Sarada prattled against her father about the book Sakura had just read to her, Sakura tried to keep focused, but her attention was on that empty chair, wondering if things would ever return to what they used to be. But even as she hoped, Sakura knew they had opened a door that could never be closed again.
"Sa-ku-ra!" Kizashi bellowed as they walked through the door, his star-shaped hair bouncing with vigor as he rushed to his daughter, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "My favorite daughter, happy birthday!"
"I'm your only daughter," Sakura pointed out, but allowed him to gather her in his arms for an embrace that had her back popping with the intensity of it. Mebuki came up from behind him, giving Sakura a kiss before glaring at Sasuke who stepped into the Haruno home last, closing the door behind him.
"Sasuke," Mebuki said.
"Mebu!" Sarada bounced on her feet.
"Kiddo!" Kizashi exclaimed.
"Super-Kizashi!" Sarada giggled as she ran for her grandfather, squealing when he scooped her off the floor and carried her into the house, bounding around the corner.
"Mebuki," Sasuke said.
"Glad you made it in time for your wife's and daughter's birthdays."
"Mom," Sakura warned.
"What? I complimented him for being here for once."
With that, Mebuki whirled around and strode into the living room, back stiff. Sakura gave Sasuke an apologetic look, which he returned with a quick shake of the head. She knew Sasuke well enough to know it didn't bother him what other people thought of him, least of all Mebuki, who seemed to think Sasuke wasn't good enough for her daughter, but she also knew the implication that he was voluntarily staying away from them would hurt him nonetheless.
She squeezed his hand and followed her mother to where Kizashi sat, bouncing Sarada on his lap. Every now and then, he lifted her and blew a raspberry on her stomach, causing her daughter to have fits of giggles. Mebuki busied herself in the kitchen, coming out soon after with a small strawberry and cream cake, and tea for everyone.
"Kizashi, put her down, will you? Time for cake," Mebuki said. Whether it was out of spite or neglect—Sakura was inclined to believe the first, because while Mebuki was known for being a lot of things, neglect wasn't one of them—she placed Sasuke's tea cup just out of his range, forcing him to fetch it himself. Sakura glared at her mother, a look Mebuki ignored entirely, but Sasuke didn't flinch under the intense scrutiny of both her parents. Sarada, who had now taken a seat between Sakura's parents, was given a plate with a small piece of cake, Mebuki helping her as she navigated the fork to her mouth.
"So, what are your plans?" Kizashi asked.
"Drinks with some friends," Sakura answered, sipping from her tea.
It was a fruit tea—Sasuke's most dreaded beverage in the world. Her mother was determined to make him suffer in the most elegant way possible, it seemed. How very Mebuki. A quick glance told her he had smelled what lay in store for him, but he remained stone-faced while taking a sip, not giving Mebuki the pleasure.
' Lovely ,' Sakura thought, fighting not to roll her eyes at the both of them.
"At your age?" Mebuki asked.
"Yes, mother, at the age of thirty-five, we still have drinks together."
Mebuki gave her a patented look that would have the twelve-year-old version of her cowering in her boots. "I could not hold my drink at that age."
"I know how to metabolize alcohol," Sakura explained. "Not to mention the fact that I studied under Tsunade and my tolerance is high. Also, I'm an adult."
"Mebu," Kizashi said as Mebuki opened her mouth. He gave Sakura a warning glance next, then melted entirely as Sarada looked up at him. "Is it good, Sara-chan? Is it?" he doted.
"Who is coming?" Mebuki asked, clearly in an effort to stay civil.
"Naruto and Hinata, of course. Ino and Sai, or maybe Sai is staying at home. Tenten and Yamato. Kakashi is always a maybe. I think Tsunade-shisou and Shizune-san are in town as well, so they'll probably stop by. Maybe some others."
"Itachi," Sasuke added, drinking his strawberry tea like it was the finest sencha money could buy. He surreptitiously moved his plate of cake—an extra small slice, of course—to her side, but she barely noticed it.
"Itachi is back?" she asked, keeping a neutral face. One slip-up and Mebuki would sniff it out like a bloodhound.
"He returned last night," Sasuke said. "I invited him."
"Oh." Sakura forced a smile as she ignored the sudden heavy thudding of her heartbeat. "Thanks for inviting him."
"Of course."
"How is your brother doing?" Mebuki asked, taking a bite of her cake. "Such a fine young man. So responsible."
"Mom," Sakura said, pinching her brow.
"Simply stating a fact."
"He is fine," Sasuke said. "Do you have more tea?"
"We're all out."
"How unfortunate."
Part of her wanted to laugh at this extravagant display of pettiness, but part of her also didn't want to bait them. Her father was busy distracting Sarada, eyeing Mebuki sternly from time to time as if to tell his wife to cut it out. Sakura touched Sasuke's knee, letting him know to back off. He nodded almost imperceptibly and remained quiet while Sakura changed the subject to Sarada's imminent entry to the Academy.
"How did you handle it?" Sakura asked, biting into a plump strawberry. She licked her lips in thought, placing the plate on the table. "Me going to the Academy, having to learn how to throw kunai and shuriken?"
"Well, we've both been through the Academy ourselves," Kizashi said. "I built you a practice area in the garden."
"I remember," Sakura smiled. "But what about—"
"Seeing your daughter enter an Academy that would train her to become a soldier?" Mebuki finished, before taking a sip from her tea. "One of the hardest things of my life." Kizashi nodded emphatically as he pulled Sarada into his lap, cuddling her. "You used to come home with all these scrapes and cuts, and proudly recite the shinobi rules to us." Mebuki looked directly at Sakura. "It was difficult hearing them, knowing you were too young to understand, but you eventually would. As a parent—as a mother—I wanted to do everything I could to shelter you from it. But I also wanted you to protect yourself."
"I agree," Kizashi said, uncharacteristically serious. "If we could have enrolled you in a civilian school and ensured your safety, we would have. But the strong people in this world are all shinobi, and we wanted you to become your own person. If that meant you only received basic training at the Academy and would never become more than a Genin, like we did, we would have been fine with that."
Sakura nodded, then turned to Sasuke. "How was that for you? At home?"
Shock registered in his eyes—disbelief that she would ask him about his parents and his home situation in front of Mebuki and Kizashi, two people who absolutely couldn't stand him. But Sakura gritted her teeth and forced her face to remain neutral, hoping he would understand—only by opening up would he remove some of the hostility that surrounded her parents. She could tell them about Sasuke, but none of it would matter or be understood unless he himself opened up.
"I don't remember much," he said. "My father spent a lot of time training Itachi, and I spent time asking Itachi to train me in turn. Being a shinobi is the Uchiha way. There was no other option."
She slipped her fingers between his, hoping he wasn't too upset, but he squeezed hers after a pause, letting her know they were alright. Her heart beat in her chest as she pointedly looked at her parents, then gave Sasuke a kind smile.
"Thank you for taking care of her," Sakura said.
"Of course," Kizashi said, rubbing his cheek against Sarada's. "You can leave this kiddo with us every day. Isn't that right, Sarada?"
"Super-Kizashi!" Sarada exclaimed, pumping her fists into the air.
"That's right!"
"I'll come pick her up tomorrow around noon," Sakura said. Kizashi lifted Sarada into his arms and escorted them to the front door, teaching Sarada how to high-five her mom. She humored her father, lifting a hand for Sarada to touch, then leaned in to kiss her daughter.
"Papa!"
Sasuke lifted his hand and Sarada pressed both of hers against his.
"High-five!" she exclaimed.
"That's a double-five!" Kizashi said, grinning widely as Sasuke and Sakura waved goodbye to Sarada, before closing the door after themselves.
They stood in front of the closed door for a moment longer, then turned to the road, slowly walking to their apartment.
"Delicious strawberry tea, wasn't it?" Sakura probed carefully.
He shot her a look.
"I think she bought it for you."
"I'm flattered."
A long silence stretched between them.
"Why are you worried about Sarada?" he asked.
She sighed. "I know we went through the same thing. I know she's safe and all that. Genin nowadays rarely do anything but hunt down cats and chase lost laundry. But... I'm finding it hard to accept that in a few months, we're sending her off to the Academy to study how to kill a person."
Sasuke's eyes seemed far away. "Hm."
"I mean..." she continued. "I know she'll know useful things, and it's not just killing people... And we're at peace right now. But… Isn't it hard for you?"
"It's all I've known," Sasuke said. "Kizashi was right. The Academy will teach her how to protect herself."
"I know," Sakura whispered. "I just... I just want her to be a kid for a while longer."
Sasuke looked at her—the mismatched gaze of a man who had seen entirely too much, been through too much, shaped by the world, forged in blood and sharpened by vengeance, and suddenly he looked much older than he was. "I understand," he said.
She smiled, knowing he did understand. He just didn't have the words to reassure her. She reached for his hand, holding him while they walked home to prepare for the evening.
Chapter Text
Chapter 26
Contrary to what Ino had said, the birthday party she had planned seemed a little bigger than she'd made it out to be. When they entered the bar, Sasuke stiffened beside Sakura—even after all these years, he was uncomfortable being in sizable crowds like these.
The Leaky Leaf was packed that night—the whole of the Konoha Twelve packed into the small bar, along with Tsunade and Shizune hogging one booth, the latter giving Genma in the next booth coy glances. Yamato sat beside him and across from surprise visitor Kakashi, who leafed through Icha Icha Paradise as though he were perched in his favorite tree rather than in a packed bar, Kurenai beside him. As Sakura watched, Gai rolled up to the table, his infectious loud laugh heard easily as he distributed some drinks.
Naruto, with slightly longer hair than normal, stood in the middle of the bar, accosted by many people he didn't know, who were bowing and holding up his hands in pacification while Hinata listened to a story Kiba was telling, covering her mouth in shock. Lee joined them, eyes goggling, mouth open, his entire face reddening as Kiba burst into laughter.
Sai was in another corner, beer in his hand while he talked to Shikamaru and Chouji, and beside him stood Ino, arm slung over her husband's shoulder. Ino noticed her then, waving at her. "Sakura!"
"Ino," Sakura greeted, tucking her hair shyly behind her ear. "I thought you said this was going to be a small get-together."
"What do you mean?" Ino asked, looking round the pub. "It's just thirty people."
"Just," Sakura echoed, waving at Tsunade as the former Hokage looked in her direction. That caught the attention of Naruto, who bellowed a loud 'Sakura-chan!' and ensured everyone in the pub knew she had entered. Before long, most shinobi had come up to offer their congratulations and greet Sasuke along with her. "I can't believe you," she hissed at Ino when Lee had finally released her from his crushing embrace, albeit only after Sasuke glared at him.
"Oh, hush, you," Ino said, grabbing her hand. Sakura sent an apologetic look in Sasuke's direction, but he shrugged and gave a small smile, then beelined for Kakashi, who closed his book and escaped with the Uchiha to a quieter corner. "Those two are too much alike," Ino laughed, noticing. "No doubt they'll be talking strategy for the rest of the night."
"If they even talk at all," Sakura giggled.
Naruto appeared before her, gathering her into his arms and hugging her until she finally pried herself free from him. "Sakura-chan!" he blubbered.
"Are you drunk already?" she asked, smelling the alcohol on his breath.
"Nu-uh."
"He is," Hinata piped up from behind him, fighting to keep a smile off her face. "Happy birthday, Sakura."
"Thank you," Sakura said. She looked around the pub as Hinata and Naruto quibbled about whether or not Naruto was actually drunk, finding more people in the pub—nurses and doctors from the hospital, some medical nin she didn't know personally but recognized, Izumo and Kotetsu playing darts with a few jounin, including Anko, and a few civilians, who seemed surprised by the gathering of uproarious shinobi.
"Who are you looking for?" Ino asked, signaling to the bartender for drinks for the both of them.
"Oh," Sakura said, calming her nerves. "Sasuke said Itachi was back and he would join us tonight."
Ino hummed. "I haven't seen him yet, but good to know. We have some single kunoichi in our midst."
She ignored the sinking feeling that overcame her—it was only a good thing if Itachi found someone he liked. He craved it and had admitted so much when he followed her home after they—he should find someone who fascinated him, someone who consumed him as much as he consumed her. Sakura accepted the sake Ino pressed in her hands and focused on Naruto as he grabbed her hand.
"We have news."
"Oh?"
"Hinata is—"
"I'm pregnant!" Hinata exclaimed happily, covering her mouth with her hands as she noticed how loud she had spoken.
Shocked, Sakura looked from Naruto to Hinata and back again, before hugging them both in congratulations while Ino let out a smarmy: "I knew it." Hinata's eyes filled with tears of happiness, and Naruto crossed his arms behind his back, grinning widely.
"I'm so happy for you," Sakura said, squeezing his arm.
Naruto looked at her, electric eyes ecstatic, hair now long enough to cover some of his forehead protector gleaming in the dim lights of the pub, and it suddenly occurred to her he had grown up. It was silly. She knew he wasn't still that loud-mouthed, perverted, crass boy who dressed in ostentatious orange and blue. That boy was still there, of course, deep inside of this man he had grown into; Sakura could see it in the way he smiled and his enthusiasm. But in some ways, she didn't recognize Naruto, not anymore. He was now someone different, the man he had always wanted to become, complete with the title and the family. She pinched his arm again and wondered if he saw the same in her when he observed her like he did now, studying her with atypical concentration before a smile lit his face.
"Thank you, Sakura-chan," he said, reaching to grab her shoulder. "We should do a Team Seven dinner soon, now that Sasuke is back. It's been too long."
And yet, in some ways, he would always be that same observant person who could read her like a book when she needed him to. She appreciated his offer, knowing the probability of it happening was slim, what with his life as leader of the village keeping him busy enough to see far too little of his own family, but nodded nonetheless, appreciating the thought.
"You should, and be sure to bring Sai," Ino added, waving a finger at the both of them. "He considers himself to be just as much Team Seven as the rest of you."
"Of course!" Naruto and Sakura replied in unison, staring at each other before bursting into laughter.
"What is this about a Team Seven reunion?" A smooth voice came from behind her. Sakura turned to find Yamato, holding two empty beer glasses in his hands, onyx eyes warm as he considered both her and Naruto, a small smile on his handsome face. "I hope I'm invited too."
"Of course you are, Yamato-taichou," Sakura said. "You and Sai are part of this family."
"Just make sure Kakashi-sensei doesn't smooth-talk you into paying the bill again," Naruto added.
"One time," Yamato grumbled, the smile dropping from his face. He looked embarrassed. "That happened one time."
"I'm pretty sure it was multiple times," Sakura giggled.
"Your memory is too good, Sakura," Yamato sighed.
"In fairness, once you see Kakashi-sensei sweet-talking his way out of a bill, you know to tread carefully." Sakura clapped him gently on the shoulder, then leaned in close. "That's his beer, and you paid for it, isn't it?"
He looked down at the two glasses in his hands, staring for the longest time before a betrayed look crossed his eyes as he looked over his shoulder to where Sasuke and Kakashi sat. "Every time," he huffed, heading toward the bar.
Naruto was shaking with silent laughter when Sakura turned back to the group.
"Poor Yamato," Hinata added, covering her smile with a hand while Ino chortled. "He is very easily persuaded by Kakashi, isn't he?"
"He just has a hero complex for Kakashi, and Kakashi knows it, the old badger," Ino said, taking a sip of her wine. She bumped her elbow against Sakura and signaled to the bar with her chin. Sakura drank from her sake and noticed that Tenten had sidled up against Yamato, who had laid a hand over her shoulders while he waited for fresh drinks. "Cute," Ino mouthed.
"They are."
"How is Sasuke-san doing?" Hinata asked her.
"Settling in," Sakura said, looking to where her husband sat, now embroiled in what looked to be a deep conversation with Kakashi. The former Hokage had set aside his novel and leaned back, the messy silver hair atop his head functioning like a beacon.
"Is it strange having him around again?" Ino asked, eyes challenging Naruto. The Seventh didn't speak, just drank from his beer as he shifted his weight.
"A little," Sakura confessed. "But it is nice. For Sarada, too."
"And he won't be going for a while?" Ino pressed.
Sakura glanced at Naruto. "He requested to be taken off the mission roster. If we move against the Country of Moon, his Rinnegan will be needed, and he'll be summoned then. But we're not taking action for a while." Naruto looked at her, conveying an apology, which she accepted with a nod.
Something behind her caught his attention then. At the same time, Ino turned around. A warmth came over Sakura as she glanced over her shoulder, certain that she would find Itachi standing at the door. It was as if she responded to him automatically these days, even after weeks of his absence.
Itachi stood in the door opening, nodding toward Kakashi and Sasuke, who had ceased their conversation to greet him from the booth they occupied. All around them, the conversation dampened just a little—despite the years since his return, the sight of Uchiha Itachi walking freely around Konoha was still a fascinating one, and one that reverberated extra strongly with the Jounin of Kakashi's generation. She wondered if she would have reacted the same way if she hadn't spent four-and-a-half years in his close vicinity—if he hadn't happened upon her when she went into labor, if Sasuke hadn't left for years.
He stood still for a moment longer, and somehow, Sakura knew he was as aware of her as she was of him. He tied his hair in the low ponytail he always preferred during missions, the end of it curling around his shoulder. He wore only a comfortable-looking black sweater and pants, despite the cool night, and held a small present in his hands. As predicted, Itachi looked for her next, his eyes finding her immediately after he looked away from his brother. He advanced toward the little group, gracefully dodging a few people.
"Itachi," Naruto greeted first.
"Hokage-sama," Itachi said, voice clear even over the ruckus of the bar. "Hinata-san, Ino-san," he greeted next.
As the two women said hello, Sakura worked up the courage to smile at him, hoping her face betrayed none of the myriad emotions that had her heart pounding and her hands clammy.
Itachi smiled. "Happy birthday, Sakura."
"Thank you," Sakura said, voice hoarse. If he noticed how nervous she was, he showed nothing, handing her the package he had brought with him. She thanked him again, taking the present while being extra careful not to touch his fingers.
She opened it and peered inside, finding a bottle of the Fire Country's superlative sake. Tsunade had received a tiny bottle from the Daimyou as thanks for her services performed after she stepped down as Hokage, and she had poured Sakura and Shizune a cup to celebrate her retirement, laughing as she mentioned that the little cup itself was about a year's worth of S-Class mission payments. This bottle was at least twice the size Tsunade had received. From the reactions of Hinata and Ino, who both gasped behind her, Tsunade hadn't been wrong about the price. Only Naruto, who was more of a beer guy, stared at the bottle, not understanding.
"Itachi, this is—"
"Exceptional sake," he finished, a smile coming to his lips. "I thought you would be in need of a new one. For those kinds of days."
Emotion clogged Sakura's throat as she looked at him, her constant companion these last four years, her best friend. The hole his absence had left in her heart suddenly hurt, yearning for those halcyon days but knowing they would never return to them. This was what they would be from now on—strangers, until life brought them back together for a time, no different from her and Naruto.
She hugged the present to her breast, thanking him again and hoping he understood her thanks extended beyond the bottle in her hands, beyond anything he could buy her with all the ryo in the world. He simply smiled, then slipped away from them.
"I can't believe he bought you Mono no Aware sake," Ino said. "May I?"
Sakura nodded and handed the box to Ino. Ino lifted the lid and looked at the golden imprint on the label while Hinata and Naruto leaned in—Hinata out of interest, Naruto no doubt because he felt it was the thing to do.
"Mirror, flower, water, moon?" he read, puzzlement clear in his voice.
" Kyouka suigetsu ," Ino said, tracing the kanji on the label with a finger. "It's a phrase used in poetry. They named a lot of their sakes after those. Kyouka suigetsu is read as ' flower in the mirror, moon on the water' . It means something is visible and profoundly beautiful, but cannot be touched."
Overwhelmed, Sakura stared at the bottle while Ino sighed wistfully, as she was prone to doing when poetry was mentioned, and closed the lid. She swallowed thickly at the pain that accompanied thoughts of Uchiha Itachi and the complementary memories of his smile and his touch that night on his couch, adopting a neutral expression as she received the box again. With a goodbye to Naruto, Hinata, and Ino, Sakura flitted from group to group until she finally reached the front door of the pub, through which she escaped, taking a seat on the small bench to the side of the entrance to The Leaky Leaf.
She couldn't hide there forever, she knew that. Sasuke was the kind of man who never let his loved ones out of his sight for long.
' Unless he just leaves the village for years on end ,' Inner supplied helpfully.
With a sigh, Sakura crossed her legs, still cradling Itachi's gift, as though she were afraid to let go of it. ' Kyouka suigetsu ,' she thought, eyes trained on the bustling streets of Konoha while she sucked in the cool night air to clear her mind and calm her racing heart. She needed to get a grip. This wasn't the way to get over a silly crush, especially not if she continually tortured herself thinking of him, even if it proved extremely hard not to.
Breathing in and out, she lifted herself back to her feet and pushed her way into the pub, locating Sasuke again in the far corner. Evidently Kakashi had left the party early—it was a miracle the man showed up at all—and in his stead, Naruto had squeezed himself in beside Sasuke, leaving the only open seat at the table next to Itachi. She steeled herself and marched toward the table, commanding the attention of all three men as she approached and sat down next to Itachi without pomp.
"There you are," Naruto laughed. "I just told Sasuke and Itachi about Hinata."
"Congratulations," Itachi offered, nursing a cup of tea. She resisted the urge to frown at his choice of drink, wondering whether their last night together had inspired him to stop drinking altogether or whether this was just an anomaly.
"Thanks," Naruto said.
"Are you hoping for another boy?" Sakura asked, signaling the waiter for a drink.
"Nah, we both really want a girl," Naruto said, a blush coming to his cheeks. "But as long as they're healthy, right?"
"Right."
"What about you two?" Naruto asked, a grin coming to his face as he pointed from Sakura to Sasuke. "Plans for more kids?"
Surprised, Sakura's eyes found Sasuke's. He seemed just as startled as she was by the question. She didn't dare look in Itachi's direction as she tried desperately to divine what Sasuke's answer would be. Finally, when it seemed none would be forthcoming, Sakura said: "No. Not yet."
Sasuke's eyes softened at the sound of her answer, searching her face for something she couldn't understand, but Naruto soon distracted them as he turned his questions to Itachi: "What about you?"
"A child?" Itachi asked.
Naruto nodded.
Itachi chuckled, soft and quick—a fake one. Sakura could recognize it anywhere. "First, I would have to find a wife, Naruto-sama."
Naruto snorted. "No luck?"
"None."
"You got a type?"
"Naruto," Sakura said softly, hoping to distract him from the line of questioning. Strangely, Sasuke seemed interested as well, leaning forward as he drank from his sake, purple and midnight focused expectantly on his brother. She dropped her eyes to her drink, pretending to be indifferent to his answer, even as her heart thudded painfully. He was attracted to her, but what did that even mean? What had attracted him to her in the first place, aside from simply being there?
"My type?" Itachi asked, as though it were a novel concept, one he had to roll over his tongue to savor before giving an answer. "I don't have a type."
"Safe answer," Naruto belted out a laugh. "But no dice, Uchiha. Everybody has a type."
"Do you?" Sakura asked Sasuke.
"Don't answer that," Naruto interjected, waving a hand. "It's a trap."
Unable to stop herself, she burst into giggles at the sight of Sasuke's exasperated, confused expression and Naruto suddenly looking like he had been through that kind of situation a thousand times over. "It wasn't a trap. I was curious."
Sakura had spent her entire life loving Sasuke in some form or another. Even when he was not himself, and Sakura had feared him and had been ready to take action, she had still loved him. But Sasuke hadn't always been the same, only falling for her when they reached adulthood. Had there ever been someone else he had a crush on? Did she ever have any competition? How remarkable that she had been married to him for over a decade, and yet had no idea.
"You are," Sasuke answered, cheeks instantly red.
Naruto rolled his eyes beside him. "In your whole life?"
"What about you?" Sasuke shot back.
"Well," Naruto sputtered. "There is Hinata."
Sasuke lifted an eyebrow. "In your whole life?" he asked, slipping into Naruto's own pitch.
Naruto glowered at him. "Sasuke, it's been a decade, but I can still kick your ass to the Valley of the End and back again."
"Is that so, Hokage-sama ?"
"How wonderful that the two of you never looked at any other women than Hinata and myself," Sakura laughed, shaking her head as the sake arrived. She poured herself a cup and drank, then looked at the faces of her husband and former teammate and tittered.
"What about you, Sakura-chan? Ever had someone else you were interested in?" Naruto asked with a fox-like grin.
"I—wh—I mean—" Sakura stammered, the cup nearly slipping from her fingers. That only caught Naruto's interest even more as he scooted over until he practically sat in Sasuke's lap, eyes wide.
"Who?"
"I've just noticed some people," Sakura uttered, ducking her head to hide her embarrassment. "You know."
She peeked at Sasuke through her lashes to see if he was angry or hurt, but he seemed to take it well, only mild surprise written on his face. Meanwhile, Itachi, who definitely knew he was part of her admittedly small list, calmly sipped his tea as though she were being asked for the time and not a shortlist of the men she had found fascinating in her life.
The moment the word ' fascinating' crossed her mind, everything whited out. In a flash, Sakura saw herself seated in his lap again, his hands on her skin, and the elated, free smile that played on his lips as he angled his face toward hers.
She forced herself to push away the onslaught of thoughts and the fact that she couldn't escape his appealing scent or his body heat cascading over her left side, his bicep flexing from time to time, and the way that made her feel—all of that was absolutely useless and only prevented her from treating Itachi like normal.
"If I may, Hokage-sama," Itachi intervened at that exact moment. "There is a difference between being purely physically attracted to someone and finding someone you might share your life with."
"Right," Naruto said, a light pout forming. "I know that."
"As such, I don't have a type, per se. But I'll know it when I get to know her."
"What would you be looking for?" Naruto asked, dislodging himself from Sasuke's side as he sidled directly in front of Itachi, his interest in the conversation clearly multiplying by the second. Sasuke gave Sakura a look that spoke of bemusement, but whether it was with respect to Naruto or Itachi, she wasn't sure. Meanwhile, Itachi turned his teacup this and that way in his hand, considering the question for a while. In the back of her mind, Sakura realized she was holding her breath.
"Intuition," he offered eventually.
"Come again?" Naruto said. "Intuition about what?"
Itachi leaned back in the seat, his leg sliding against hers. The movement was innocent, and certainly not deliberate, but Sakura keenly felt the effect he had on her. Though their skin was separated by several barriers of cloth, the heat from his body scorched her to the point she feared he would burn her. She felt wobbly, despite sitting down, and tucked her hands beneath the table, hoping no-one would see the way her fingers suddenly shook.
Naruto and Sasuke seemed sufficiently distracted by Itachi as he searched for an answer that they didn't notice anything strange from her. Sakura took a deep breath and studied his handsome profile as he considered how to explain what was in his head. She had seen him do it hundreds of times before, including the moment in which his thoughts all clicked together, and he lifted his eyes to Naruto.
"Seeing someone and knowing they're someone you will fall in love with."
"You might be waiting a long time for that," Naruto said. "I've never experienced love at first sight. Not even with Hinata."
"It's not love at first sight—love at first sight is when you see someone and love them immediately," Itachi clarified. "This is... knowing, deep in my bones, that it will happen and that there will be nothing I can do to stop it."
"How would you know that?" Naruto laughed.
"I've experienced it before."
Sakura resisted the urge to whip her head up at the calm confession, her mind recounting in top speed all the conversations she had ever had with Itachi about love. Never before had he mentioned being in love with someone. Once, she had asked him if he had ever loved someone, or even liked someone. He had told her he wasn't sure, but that fate had placed her beyond his reach. A blush crept up to her cheeks as she went over that encounter over and over in a mental frenzy, thinking of the inflections of his voice and the way he had looked–there was no way he was talking about… her , right?
Naruto opened his mouth to, undoubtedly, ask when, but seemed to realize it was not actually something he should ask about. The smile slipped from his mouth, but he lifted his drink anyway and brought it to Itachi's. "To an intuition," Naruto said. "I hope you'll experience it again."
"Thank you, Naruto-sama," Itachi smiled.
"You know, Itachi, you're really wise." Naruto seemed almost surprised.
"Some say that."
"Some?" Sakura interjected, having found her voice.
He gave her a smile that seemed to kindle the fire within her almost instantly. "Some," he replied.
The conversation turned to something more innocuous then, but Sakura couldn't bring herself to pay attention to Naruto's chatter while Itachi shifted beside her. Her head swam, but not because of the alcohol coursing through her veins, as she tried her hardest to steer her thoughts away from her brother-in-law, but all it did was ensure the memories hit her full-force, replaying the night on his sofa with pinpoint accuracy, every word spoken, every look and every possessive touch, registered to perfection in her brain. It was inescapable, exacerbated further with each word he said, whether it was a greeting or a bottle of sake. Every second she spent around him only served to ingrain him further on her very being.
Was this what he had meant by "fascination"? Was it this madness, this sheer want to know everything about him, every minute detail, to possess him like he possessed her, even as she sat across from her actual husband? How would she ever be able to pick up her marriage and be the wife Sasuke deserved when she was wholly unable to put his brother out of her mind?
And who did Itachi see and know deep in his bones that he would love?
He chuckled beside her as he listened to Naruto's story, the sound ringing through her ears deliciously as she painstakingly went over every face of every woman in Konoha.
Though he had barely looked at her during the conversation, Itachi's eyes found hers then. It lasted no longer than the span of a heartbeat, but in that one moment, it felt like they were the only two people on earth.
Later, as they walked home, Sakura looked at Sasuke. "Who do you think Itachi had an intuition about?"
"Izumi," Sasuke said. He stopped in his tracks and looked at Sakura. "Itachi killed her during the—"
The world seemed to turn around her, but Sakura remained still, locked into that one second in which the weight of the massacre and all Itachi had been forced to sacrifice weighed so heavily on her shoulders, she thought she could stop time itself with it, only to realize that it was, in fact, possible to be jealous of someone who had long passed away.
