A/N: Sorry I took longer than expected, but school happened. I know you guys wanted them to become closer after what happened last chapter, but I know what I'm doing. Lots of important clues/foreshadowing being dropped though, so pay attention ;)
Thank you for the wonderful reviews! You guys make me smile amidst all these exams and homework from my summer classes.
P.S. When I say that Sasuke's wives left him, I mean that they figuratively left by passing away, though I'm not telling you how yet :P
Sword and mind must be united. Technique by itself is insufficient, and spirit alone is not enough.
- Yamada Jirokichi (1863-1930).
Sasuke is woken up by something other than blood and screams. His mind is blank when he opens his eyes slowly, the early light filtering through the only window in the room making him close them for a second. He has overslept; it would be a wonder to him if his men aren't worried sick for his wellbeing by now.
He snaps his eyes open at the thought, and the first thing he sees is pink. Pink under him, over him, and all around him. Sakura is still embracing him, somehow, and he notices this through pieces in his still-fogged up brain. Sleepy eyes trace over a naked shoulder and a bare back, and over the curve beneath the bedsheets that cover the rest of her soft form.
He takes a moment, short and sweet, admiring the feeling of her bare front pressed against his side, her head on his chest, and her arm on his own. He takes a moment, long and bitter, looking at the ceiling and wondering the time and place when he had last slept quite this peacefully, but comes up short.
He waits a few seconds more before he gets up.
.
.
.
"I have been notified by several sources of a disturbance at the border," Shikamaru speaks, his voice reverberating against the paper walls around them. He sits cross-legged across from his superior, a low table in between them.
"Of Fire?"
"No. Konoha's border, and it wouldn't be much of a problem if our population was not already over the limit." Shikamaru sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, looking at the floor in deep thought, mulling over his words. "It seems that many a person want to be close to you; you seem to be quite notorious around Fire."
"Hm," he hums, absentmindedly moving his pencil across the surface of an important document he has yet to sign.
"Then again, past the border of Konoha lies a territory of forest only—a fortress, more so, that separates the village from every other in the nation," he keeps on explaining, and Sasuke keeps on drawing nonsense circles on paper. "I am not surprised that anyone would want to trespass, what with you here and the largest army of Samurai known to mankind."
When Shikamaru looks up from the floor and toward his leader, he manages a sporadic frown to appear between his brows. Unexpectedly, Sasuke is looking down at a few stacks of paper while he moves his hand back and forth in a lazy manner. It holds no consistency, really, and he takes pleasure in watching as his direct leader draws asymmetrical figures on top of a page that seems rather void of any signatures or important stamps.
But a second later, his frown leaves altogether, and it's replaced by a small, amused smirk that makes its slow way onto his scarred face. He looks on as Sasuke absentmindedly hums again, gaze lost somewhere in the desk and hand moving mechanically against the document on the table.
Sasuke is not someone who gets lost in thought while conducting a meeting, even if it is a regular, weekly meeting like this where he only gets the usually mundane updates of the week. He always pays attention to every detail, takes notes, and devises a plan for the upcoming week, carefully and attentively. At the moment, Sasuke seems anything but attentive to Shikamaru's updates.
If he's anything of the genius he's been called throughout his life, he'd say his leader is thinking of something much bigger than a few infiltrators in Konoha. If he can't be bothered enough to pay attention to his updates, which, from the intense look he's bestowing upon that paper, it must mean his thoughts are centered on personal matters.
And the list of people who Sasuke is relatively close to, regardless of whether it is through election or choice, could fit in the smallest of spaces. He could count those people on one hand without really having to use all five fingers. This makes his guessing game seem all the less interesting; it's not fun to guess at something that looks so blatantly obvious.
Shikamaru looks toward the table, careful to notice any changes in his body when he speaks, breaking the silence that has been stretching on for minutes on end—minutes that his leader seems to not notice.
"I saw your wife as I was walking here. If I may say so, she seems lovelier everyday," he says, but receives no response from his leader. He clears his throat. "Lady Sakura, I mean."
At the name, he watches as Sasuke's hand stops moving, and he blinks one and two times in silence. Shikamaru watches as he lifts his head to regard him quietly, dropping the pencil on the desk none too gently after he realises he's missed most of what Shikamaru has said about his wife.
"What?"
The hazel-eyed man shakes his head, wanting to snort but deciding against it at the sour and confused look on Sasuke's face. He decides on starting his updates again, from the top, looking into his eyes so as to make sure he's listening this time. His dark eyes, though, shift from his own to a point past his shoulder once Shikamaru starts talking again. They get lost somewhere over his shoulder, and Shikamaru stops his newfound informational rambling after he notices this, murmuring something about this job being too much of a hassle under his breath.
"Sasuke, are you listening to me?"
His eyes snap toward the patient man again, though his head remains unmoving, hands joined over the table inside his study, elbows resting on the wood.
Shikamaru, genius since birth in the prestigious Nara clan, the Shogun's right hand and strategies expert, stands slowly and walks from the other side of the desk toward the small window to Sasuke's left.
He watches as his features are relaxed but marked with worry, his hands are in the pockets of his loose trousers, and his stance is that of a tired man.
He's not sure what is wrong with him at the moment, but there's one thing that he's sure about: he's not in his right mind tonight. And so he sighs, looking as Shikamaru rubs a hand against his face in exhaustion. It wouldn't do to continue this meeting, not with a troubled mind and jumbled thoughts inside his head.
"Shikamaru, you are dismissed," he says, looking over to the man only to look away the moment their eyes meet; one pair confused, the other resigned.
"Dismissed? I haven't finished telling you about the river. There have been sights of people trying to cross over and into Konoha by-"
"Ah," he waves his hand dismissively, earning another confused look from the older man. "I have heard, too. I will take care of that as soon as possible."
"But, sir-"
"Go home, Shikamaru. I am sure you miss your wife and son. It is yet to be dark, yet it has been a peaceful day," he explains, leaning back on his chair when the man just stares from the window to the village behind the tall stone walls surrounding the castle.
He knows he's hit the right target. The man might be lazy and too smart for his own good, but he also loves his small family more than anything else—more than this job and more than this country, even, something that Sasuke can never—and will never—afford.
He doesn't need to convince him any more than that, as expected, for Shikamaru bows curtly and leaves, the door sliding close behind him and making a small sound that echoes around the quiet room. He releases the breath he's been holding.
Sasuke runs a hand through his unkempt hair, now reaching past his shoulders, and runs both hands down his face. He closes his eyes for a moment in the new solitude of his quiet office, and opens them only to look at the array of soft colours filtering through the window. In warm colours, they reach the walls of his office, gently touching the ends of his hair and past them.
He drops his hands on the desk, suddenly feeling way older than only thirty, taking everything in and noticing a few specks of pink here and there almost blending with the purple and the yellow and orange.
He grunts, the sound is guttural and low, and he would have missed it were it anyone else who'd done it. As it is, he only grunts once more when there is no one near him who will ever hear, turning his face away from the pretty colours of the dying sun, too vivid and too bright and too warm.
He had heard Shikamaru, but he hadn't necessarily been listening to the words. A few things here and there had reached his ears in passing: bandits disguising themselves and crossing the river that runs along part of the border between Konoha and other smaller villages, a certain restlessness in his army at the continued peace across the nation, an increase in Wind traders at the Northern villages of Fire. Nothing that would be too devastating if he hadn't heard at all, but important to the bigger picture anyway.
He should go with a small team to check the bandits at the river; this would be like killing two birds with one stone, for it would solve the boredom of his army and the troubles at the border, though the information on the traders could wait a bit longer.
It would be too late to send a team of soldiers to the border now, when most of them are probably at home sharing a meal or two with their families. He should probably send a notice first thing in the morning, detailing that the mission to go to the border would take place tomorrow night. He should probably just ask his army to meet him at the castle first thing in the morning, for the notice could take longer by a messenger. Or he should probably just call them now. They were warriors. They had lived far worse, it doesn't matter if they haven't been notified before, they would just get ready and do what they have to do. Or maybe that wasn't the best option. Maybe he should just-
He can't think.
Sasuke stands, strides over to the window, and pulls the long curtains together. The light doesn't filter through the dark, thick material, and Sasuke is grateful for that.
He takes a second longer than he should have, just holding the soft and delicate curtains close together, thinking about something far softer between his fingers, far more delicate. He lets go at last.
In darkness, with nothing else to have as a distraction, he sits at his desk once again and starts to work.
.
.
.
Sakura walks across the gardens along a path made of sand, stepped on and mediocre; almost hidden from view.
She walks behind the healer, a man she had thought to be old and wrinkly, but is in fact around her husband's age. His grey hair is probably premature and early, and his lack of wrinkles and the lightness in his step as he walks ahead of her is proof of his true age.
She keeps up with him.
They walk along the gardens on the Southwestern side of the castle, passing through a great array of flowers and vegetables, moving through gardens she has never seen before. At the end, right before the edge of the castle's stone barrier, lies a small cottage. It's made of wood, the size of Sakura's bedroom, and with two cherry blossom trees on either side.
Sakura's breath hitches in her throat as they near the small house, almost tripping over a rock at her distracted gaze, looking over every detail this cabin offers her.
It's such a small thing; so tiny and cozy that Sakura has a hard time believing this is where the middle-aged man sleeps and eats and showers. How can someone depend on themselves so much in this remote part of the castle? He almost lives outside of the border, even. His way of living escapes her, and she makes a mental note to ask him as soon as she can.
They reach the small, wooden house, only a few feet taller than her, but barely tall enough for the healer in front of her. He opens the door by pulling it toward him—not by sliding it open, as Sakura had expected—and ducks his head slightly at the threshold's shorter height, passing it and letting her pass after himself.
She looks inside while he closes the peculiar door behind her. The room is more spacious than she thought it could possibly be, with wooden walls and several plants here and there hanging from the ceiling. Upon more scrutiny, she sees there are plants everywhere, some she recognises right away and some others that seem ambiguous. Some are on two long working tables, others are hanging from the ceiling, and others are on the floor.
There are two working benches at either side of the room with plants and rulers and flasks scattered on top, two mediocre, dull chairs at each long desk, and two doors at the end of the main room which she assumes to be the bedroom and bathroom, however small. She can't see the kitchen from here, if there even is one to start with.
The man slowly circles her from the door to her front, standing a reasonable three feet away from her. His hand, after noticing she's too entertained in looking around his humble abode, nonchalantly reaches into his pocket and takes out an object she has never seen before. Her eyes snap toward him and this item with two circles and a line that connect them together, with two other at the sides. When the healer places it on top of his nose and it does not fall, Sakura frowns.
"If I may, I notice you are quite smitten with my spectacles," he says, speaking for the first time without her permission. She's taken aback for only a second, because then he speaks again with a small smile morphing his thin lips. "They help me see clearer, my lady."
"Is that so?" She asks, frowning further when the man doesn't answer. "Wherever you acquired them? Surely they are not from this land."
"No, they are not," he doesn't look at her out of respect, but he speaks with an authority that shouldn't be there. "Though these have been given to several Daimyō across Fire already, they have not reached ears of the Emperor or my lord, the Shogun."
She wants to grab these spectacles and inspect them for herself, seeing for herself if they could make her see clearer too, however more than she already does.
But when she takes a step forward and feels her foot cave in the floor, she gasps, looking down and finding nothing but a thick brown carpet, one which covers the entirety of the room. She can't see anything resembling wood or tatami like she's used to, but only something akin to a rug.
She frowns, looking down at her feet and up at his silhouette now in the back of the room, adjusting the long curtains to the side of the windows so as to let all the light in.
"Kabuto, right?" She asks, noticing how he tenses up for a second before he relaxes again, stepping away from the window and moving toward her again with a small smile.
"That is correct. From the Yakushi clan."
He says this with a proud-like twinkle in his eyes, but Sakura has no idea who he is or where he comes from. Though she was raised with knowledge from the most important clans in the nation, Kabuto's clan doesn't ring a bell in her brain. She only clears her throat and takes another step forward, making a face when she feels her foot dip in again.
"Why do you keep a rug for a floor?" She asks only because she can't help herself. Her steps are hesitant and light over the brown plush, and she notices his smile getting larger by the minute, probably amused by her strange questions.
"Working here for hours can be quite exhausting. This prevents my feet from hurting, you see."
She nods and regards the place with her gaze once more, feeling his eyes on her.
"I see," she says. "You can start now, Yakushi."
He nods once, bows, and moves toward one of the long tables, grabbing a flask here and a flask there while standing, and motioning her to the stool next to him.
"You may take a seat, if you would like."
Sakura does so without a word, not trusting the man entirely even if he has been trusted by her husband and many before him. It's her first interaction with him, after all, and she doesn't want to trust him fully at first glance.
He places a book in front of her and opens it in the stark middle, making sure she sees all the dry, preserved leaves and stems and flowers.
Sakura stares.
"This is my book of plants. Every plant that I have encountered in my life is here, compressed and kept as if it's still alive. For years, this has been my atlas; what I use to guide myself through healing. Notice I have written facts about these plants along the margins."
Sakura flips through the thick book, careful not to move the pages too roughly.
"You may use this at any time during your training."
She looks at him. "Training?"
He looks taken aback, but smiles a moment later. "Yes. Is this not why you wanted to see me? I know you are interested in the herbs; I have seen you in my gardens."
Sakura takes a deep breath and releases it, looking back at the open book in front of her, and traces a white flower through the soft material that encases it.
Training would do her well. Training can entertain her from the most boring of days at the castle, it can put her knowledge to work, and it can make her feel less useless and powerless trapped inside these walls. It can most certainly move her thoughts away from a certain someone, someone who has been plaguing her mind for two whole days. Closing her eyes for a moment, she supresses the urge to physically shake her head to figuratively shake her thoughts away. His dark eyes still stare at her from under her, his quiet heartbeat still beats under her ear, his rough hands still trace over her hips in the morning, her hands still trace over his chest after.
"What would this training entail?" She asks, opening her eyes slowly.
After a few seconds of silence, Kabuto answers, his velvet voice reaching her ears all too soon.
"I can teach you what you want to know about every plant, including poisons—how to make them and how to fight them. Plants are not the only matter I'm knowledgeable about, my lady. The human body fascinates me just as much."
Sakura thinks it over for a few seconds, but her mind had been made up the moment he mentioned poisons. She nods and jumps a little when he swiftly closes the book in her face, placing it high on a shelf on the other side of the room.
"Shall we start?"
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.
.
She tries to learn under the tutelage of Kabuto for only one day before she decides this has to stop. This constant worrying and incessant overthinking that has taken root inside her being has to stop. It's one thing to share one's body with someone, and it's another to share one's body and everything else in the act, only to avoid her like the plague.
She remembers the morning after clearly, how he had stood up after a few lingering touches, dressed and left the room without much of a parting word—not that he ever did, anyway. Sasuke has always had a tendency to be distant with her, but his genuine behaviour doesn't hold a candle to how he's treating her now. They are husband and wife, and they have been this for a little over three years, so there should be no reason why she hasn't seen him in the time that's passed since the night they shared.
So she visits him at his office and, surprisingly, he lets her in. It's only a second later that she learns this is because he doesn't even look up to welcome the newcomer, probably thinking it to be one of his advisors instead of his wife.
She knocks and she's granted passage, and as soon as the door slides open by her hand, she looks at his desinterested face staring at a board in front of him. He's sitting on the floor, legs parted and knees bent, and she blinks several times at his relaxed and uncaring appearance. In the three days she hasn't seen him, she has thought about this moment, over and over playing in her mind in many different ways, but now she's at a loss of words.
His eyes snap up at her lingering but otherwise silent presence and she can almost make out his flinch, obviously not expecting his wife to knock on the door of his office, a place where he has been hiding in for the last few days, piles of papers stacked on the desk behind him that are yet to be signed and revised.
She can sense his unease at her appearance, so much so that she can see the uncomfortable way his eyes shift from her own and down her body slowly before he looks away, brows furrowed together and lips tugged down as if in pain.
She regards him with a quiet type of outward semblance, though her blood is rushing inside her at incredible speeds. Her heartbeat beats loudly against her chest, and she joins her hands in front of her lap, touching the silk of her small kimono as she lets them rest there. Sasuke is not looking at her.
She wants to stride toward him and embrace him like she did then, but it is not prudent to do so. Showing that kind of weakness would make him snap at her, what during plain day and with his sturdy walls up and protecting him.
It is best if she resorts to talk to him instead. She closes the door behind her and looks at him from the same place, not daring to take a step toward the man. But before she can voice out whatever has been troubling her mind, she notices the Shogi board in front of him, and smiles at the perfect excuse she has found to make him speak about what she wants to hear—and not to only tell her to leave his private office space.
"Would you mind if I play against you?" She asks, and doesn't miss the way his eyebrows lift curiously, locking eyes with her once again. She sees the confusion dancing in the dark, black gaze, so she smiles a bit more and qualms her insides. "Nothing is ever worse with two minds at it."
"Some would disagree."
She takes a step forward, but stops when he focuses his eyes on the movement.
"You would disagree?" She asks, finding her voice after the ice has broken. "No game is fun when you know the outcome. You may know yourself, but you don't know me."
This has him silent. She watches as his head snaps downward toward the old, used table of Shogi, and she sits in front of him when he gives but a simple nod to let her know she can play against him, though she never expected he would.
They sit, her legs tucked under her and his open, relaxed, with one hand on the floor to hold him upright and the other arm hanging from his knee. His window is open, the light breeze from the characteristic clear blue skies moving her long hair as the time goes by—though lightly, as it's in a loose plait.
She speaks if only to break the silence. After all, she has to get him to talk about what he thinks about them, and Sasuke talking about his feelings is not something she has ever seen to its full extent, or something she would ever hope to accomplish. It has been three days, and this is the first time she sees him since. She has given him everything; her mind, her body, her soul, her entire life, devoted to him until the end of her days. And yet, just when she thought they had made progress, he just... disappears.
It would be an understatement to say she feels merely nervous when she speaks.
"I learnt when I was ten, two years before my father passed away," she pauses, and starts talking again after he doesn't respond and opts to move one of his game pieces. "He was the one who taught me."
He hums at her words, watching as she makes her move on the board with a concentrated gaze. He makes his own not two seconds later, and Sakura smiles at his calculated antics, that of a true perfectionist and strategist, quick but careful. She takes her time moving her own piece again, but when he moves his it's in the span of only five seconds, and it makes her frown at the possiblr reason behind his overflowing confidence.
He doesn't think she can win. It's as if, when he let her play against him, he did it only to pacify a stubborn child. Maybe out of pity, maybe out of wanting to be done with this and watch her leave, but she won't have it either way.
"This is almost insulting, you know," she starts, pausing momentarily in order to think her next move correctly.
He lifts his eyes to look at her from across the small space between them, and frowns. "What is?"
"I told you I have been playing this since I was ten years old not two minutes ago, yet you disregard me," she moves her piece, then, and he moves his not a second later, his hand forcing the wooden piece down on the board with more force than necessary. She sees the fault in his mistake and moves her own against it, winning his piece over and capturing it with her hand. His face shows confusion, she smiles at her small victory, and she speaks what she shouldn't without thinking it through.
"Your moves are primitive, dear," she says, watching as he makes a fist with the hand hanging from his bent knee. "Much like in other matters."
There is a certain lightness in her voice that's there to let him know she's not speaking with malice, but only indulging in light conversation, though she tries to hide the biting tone to her words for what she feels inside.
She moves her rook forward, capturing Sasuke's silver general in the process with a small smile gracing her lips at, yet again, her second victory in a row.
When he doesn't make a move against her, she looks at him from under her bangs, noticing the small tick under his eye as he loses his gaze in the board. She knows what is bothering him.
The fact that he catches the second meaning to her words and holds on to them only makes her bite her lip. She had spoken more than what was expected, and she wouldn't be surprised if he throws the board in her face and kicks her out of his office right in that moment; after all, she has just insinuated the man is primitive in bed. Never mind if this is true or not, it is not in her to tell him.
"Did you come here to criticise that, or to play Shogi with me?" He asks, eyes narrowed and jaw locked. Obviously, he does not find it amusing that she's judging the way he beds her, but something in the way he has not snapped at her makes her retaliate. She shouldn't. She really shouldn't, and she knows this as she knows the back of her hand—knows that she must apologise and stay quiet for the duration of the game or until he deems is sufficient time—but her blood keeps rushing and her heart keeps beating, so she talks against all predicaments.
"Can't I do both?" She innocently asks and does nothing but look at Sasuke, who stares at her with something strange in his eyes.
After a moment of tense silence, her husband shifts his eyes from her own amused gaze and down to the board, thinking his next move through and choosing to not listen to her.
"I am merely commenting on the issue at hand," she shrugs, looking away from his passive face and toward the open window on her right. Flowing water from a fountain in the distance fills in the silence while he focuses on the game and ignores her words. She doesn't expect him to answer her, though she only wishes he would just speak to her, and he does so after he moves his rook two spaces to the right, threatening two different pieces of her own for the first time. He does it so meticulously that, the more she considers the options, the less she thinks she can save both pieces at the same time.
"There is no issue, Sakura. Granted, I acknowledge our wedding night was not..." She waits, baited breath caught in her throat at his words, hands tight in fists on her lap. "Pleasant. But there is no issue."
And, just like that, she loses herself in his words. Eyes staring at his nonchalant expression, she restrains herself from reaching over and hit him until he can't breathe. She wants to yell at him that of course it wasn't pleasant, and it hurt, it hurt her and he hurt her and she cried herself into oblivion that night so many days ago. She wants to tell him that it was a tradition, a ritual, that they had to do anyway, but a ritual doesn't justify the roughness in his hands as he had handled her. He should have been more gentle and careful with her and, in any case, more understanding of her situation. She wants to remind him of how much she thinks about that night, about how much it pained her, back then and for weeks on end, when she thought she had no one; when she had laid on the floor and known she would have to spend eternity with someone who didn't care.
Instead, she only swallows all the words she wants to say, and clarifies the situation for him. She moves one of her rooks forward, sacrificing her pawn to Sasuke's rook—the lesser of her two pieces only in rank of importance.
"I see differently, and it is clear as day."
You just can't see it over your self-centred mindset, she wants to add, but refrains from it. Doing so would be to openly, explicitly disrespect her husband, and she would rather perish in flames than do such a thing.
"Tell me, then."
"I may be... physically inexperienced compared to you, Sasuke-kun, but my training has been thorough," she says, taking a deep breath and looking over toward the distant fountain so as to avoid his curious eyes, her voice small but confident. "I know that being together has to require input from both parties, not only one. Doing so would hinder one from feeling any pleasure in the act."
She looks at him.
The moment his eyes widen for a split second, she knows that, somehow, she has said the wrong thing. It is clear to her as he frowns and inches slightly forward, eyes searching her own for answers he can only find if he outwardly asks.
"You find no pleasure with me."
It's a statement, not a question, and she realises this a little too late. It isn't that she feels no pleasure with him, but that she could feel more. They could both feel so much more, if only he would open up.
"May I ask you something?" At his silence, she bites her lower lip and takes a deep breath through her nose. "Did any of your prior wives talk to you about this, like I'm doing now?"
Sasuke moves a piece of the game, but Sakura barely pays attention anymore. She only sees him against the fog in her mind; only feels her hands shake on her lap as she folds them more than once.
"None had the chance," he breathes.
Her hands stop shaking, and time stops still.
"I have been married to you for three years, and yet, as I have come to learn, so did your first wife," she replies. The words come out of her slowly, as if preparing for the worst, as if getting ready to get up and run away. In the back of her mind, she registers her hand moving one of her pieces forward, but it is lost to her when he speaks again.
His eyes are somewhere else now, looking over the patterns on the floor as if decoding something there. With a frown, she notices his eyes are narrowed and a grimace is running along his features before he sighs.
"Karin never complained."
Karin.
She has heard it before, though she can't place the exact time and place at the moment. Not when he compares her complaints to the insinuated acceptance of his first wife.
The name rings off her brain, off the walls of the room where they sit facing each other, looking into each other's eyes. He must be able to see the confusion and surprise in her face, for he breaks the silence after a long minute of her inability to move, much less talk.
"What has passed won't happen again. There is no need to worry."
"What?" She exclaims, snapping out of her thoughts and frowning ever-so-slightly at him.
He doesn't explicitly say it, but she hears the meaning anyway; feels the underlying cold words come out of his lips all the same. And before she can feel hurt at the unspoken, untold truth—or undesirable, even, by the lack of care in his words—he clears his throat and looks toward the Shogi board, mask put on over the hard ridges of his face once again. "That night was a risk I took, one I can't take again."
She audibly gasps, then, staring at him unabashedly from where she's sitting, and he clarifies further.
"You should know children are not part of my plans," he murmurs, not looking at her. "Not yet."
His words are clear in her mind, and she wants to laugh at how she has missed what has been in front of her this whole time. He doesn't want children, which would explain his distance with her, his lack of response throughout the course of their marriage, and his attempts at never letting his eyes stray too long on her body. He always finds a way to look away, to shy away from her, to not speak to her more than a few words, to refrain from touching her in any way or form.
The reasoning behind his charcoal eyes is something she has yet to reach.
After all, Sasuke's clan only consists of one blood member now—though the man still believes his brother may be alive, somewhere in this world—and Sakura stills her preocupations for a moment after she realises he shouldn't have any problems with having children. Every day under the title of Shogun, her husband risks being murdered, overthrown, by someone else; and someone with that much power surely must be aware of this. The clan could lay forgotten after his demise with no possible heir to the position.
He should be welcoming the thought of a child from his own blood, instead of discouraging it; he should.
She doesn't understand why he would hinder the likelihood of this happening, and he sees right through her, but stays quiet while he watches each emotion play out on her face like an open book.
She wants to demand more answers from him, but her fight leaves her quickly, just like it had come to her in the first place. She shakes her head to herself, focusing on the game in between them so as to not dwell too much on his unusual, disconcerting answer.
Half an hour later, she leaves the room after a curt bow, though it is brief and tired.
Sasuke looks after her when she stands and leaves, a frown marring his features as his hand tightens the hold on his captured King. As she had said she would, she beats him at a strategical, military game on the first try.
.
.
.
Sakura visits Kabuto more often after her meeting with Sasuke. Sometimes she has one or two hours to spare, but most often than not she spends her entire day working under his knowledge. She visits so often that it's a wonder how she doesn't live in his hut yet, what with all the hours she spends there. If he feels against it, he never voices it, just like she never notices if her daily visits ever make him uncomfortable.
Without her medicinal books to keep her busy, she mostly has her garden to look forward to. With this training, as he so calls it, now she also has an addition to her otherwise-boring schedule.
Sasuke spends his days holed up in his study doing what Sakura doesn't have the energy to find out about, and the nights are spent with her eyes looking at his broad, distant back. She doesn't really count on him to fill her schedule nowadays.
At least, not with the biting words he had told her on a warm, peaceful day, or the cold of his eyes as he refused her body indefinitely.
So she trains, spends her days with a man that is not her husband, and learns whatever he has to offer from years and years on end of learning on his own.
By the end of autumn, Sakura knows how to identify any poisonous plant known to the nation of Fire, how to make antidotes for most, and how to recognise the symptoms in someone who is affected—though she only uses rats for those. She is fascinated by what she has only been able to read about before. The more she spends away from her husband, the less she thinks of him.