A/N: I'm so excited for you guys to read this chapter. It was definitely easier to write than chapter 6. The plot thickens my darlings.
P.S. I rushed to write this and post it now because I'm taking a break from writing for a while. I need to study for finals and focus on my classes for the next two weeks, and after that I'll start writing the next chapter. Hope you understand, I put a bunch of fluff + angst in this chapter for good measure :,)
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Sakura receives a letter during the early stages of winter. She recognises the familiar slopes and curves of the characters outside before she has the chance to open it.
And as soon as she turns the lid and unfolds the yellowed papers inside, she's not surprised that the owner is, as suspected, none other than her mother—especially since she had recognised the familiar handwritting beforehand—but there is a certain kind of bitterness that comes along as she reads the first sentence. Sakura can't figure out why it has taken her so long to write to her daughter. All summer had been spent with no mail from her remaining blood relative and, even though she feels somewhat neglected and forgotten, she doesn't hide her smile when she starts reading through something she has so dearly missed—or someone, as the case may be.
Her smile tampers on the sides slightly as the seconds pass, and it's on the second page that Sakura pauses and takes a moment to read over the words again and again, making sure she's in fact reading correctly, not missing an inch of ink from her mother's delicate strokes.
It held no candle to your own, but the wedding was sufficiently adequate. I only wish you had been there to share it with me.
She feels her hands tremble as she holds the letter for only a mere second of vulnerability, but then she's back again in her room, alone and with a wrinkled letter in her hands, on top of a bed that is far too big for only two people who don't ever touch.
She finishes reading only because she has already started, but not because she necessarily wants to, and so she doesn't really register the last parting words. Mechanically moving to the small desk on the far end of the room, she grabs a blank paper and starts writing with fresh ink, using one of her husband's most treasured brushes as steadily as she can.
Dear beloved mother, I so wish you are as well as you say, for this will hurt less if it is so.
She doesn't like what she's putting on paper, but it's what needs to be done. The only reason her mother hasn't been writing to her is because of the wedding and its preparations; her mother is probably plenty busy nowadays, more so than herself, at least. Sakura's husband has plenty of riches and status, and she lives inside a castle bigger than any other building in Konoha, yet her mother's contract with Sasuke will end soon, has just married, and seems happier than she can last remember.
She can't help her anymore. She isn't there to help her take the trash out, do the dishes, or clean around the house. She doesn't have the means to transfer more funds to her household, nor is she going to ask Sasuke for them—more so after his crude confession from long ago. Most importantly, she isn't going to bear Sasuke a son any time soon, as stated by the man himself, something that her mother has been looking forward to for the longest time, if not reiterated during her first and last visit to the castle. Sakura's slowly failing as a daughter, and there's nothing she can do about it.
The more words she puts on paper, the more she distances herself from her mother—the only person who she has had the priviledge of communicating with outside the castle's walls. Though cutting communication wouldn't be the most prudent of decisions, she knows it's for the best. Her mother is well, as she has expressed in the letter several times, and that is all that matters.
Ever since she got married to Sasuke, her mother used to write her bland, boring letters that merely asked for her wellbeing and let her know a thing or two about the village. But this letter is different. Sakura can feel the unexpected happiness her mother has found with her father's brother, and so it's only in her best interest if she doesn't write to her as much, if only to not disturb her with her silly preocupations and broken marriage. Out of shame and out of resignation, she sends the letter with one of Sasuke's lesser advisors.
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She sees the white, nameless cat once again one snowy day. It's as she enters Kabuto's home with a basket full of herbs in hand, and the sight of it laying on the windowsill only makes her stop in her tracks abruptly.
He lifts his head toward her listlessly and with grace, nonchalantly laying his head down again so as to keep on sleeping during the last of the morning. Sakura closes the door behind her a second later, the soft sound not startling him in the slightest.
Taking the steps necessary to reach the work bench on the right—across from the slumbering feline she hadn't seen for months—she sits on the stool and sets her small basket on the surface of the desk. It's full of herbs she had taken from the different gardens of the castle, spending more than one hour so as to restock everything in Kabuto's little house—due to the fact that she had used most plants while learning about them, it's only logical that she takes the time to repay him for wasting his plants by looking for new ones herself.
At least, she had looked for every plant available to the castle's grounds only. There just wasn't a way for her to go outside and into Konoha's forests in search of the remaining, limited stock of more exotic herbs. She would just have to tell him later about the critical leftover amounts of these outside plants that only he could possibly fetch.
With a sigh, she starts taking out every herb carefully. She snips off the ends of every stem, takes out the leaves when necessary, and dries the plants completely, placing them by family and name inside different small jars. She does this for a few minutes, focusing on the light, cold breeze that comes in and out of the open windows and the light chirping of birds. The several layers of her usual dresses come in handy during the slightly cold days.
Kabuto comes in right when she stands up to go eat lunch. He opens the door, notices her perplexed face, and chuckles to himself.
"Kabuto, good morning," she bows, only because he has taught her for months now and has been nothing but kind to her, but not because he's her superior in any way or form. Following orders and teaching her is one thing, and showing genuine kindness is another. He returns the bow with one of his own, lasting longer than hers, as expected.
"Lady Uchiha, it is well past morning."
With a small smile, Sakura opens her mouth to say something, but then a sound reaches her ears and they both look toward it; toward him, stretching and looking at the healer like he's been expecting him. The white, thin and small cat walks over to Kabuto, leaving no indentations on any of the surfaces he treks upon, mostly due to the loss in weight. Sakura frowns at the creature, and more so when the man next to her bends down and picks him up, petting him behind the ears and on the sides of his neck.
She's at a loss of words, and takes a step back.
"You know this cat?" She asks, and the question sounds so random and inconsequential that he emits a dry laugh as she watches him literally purr at Kabuto's touch.
"Sorry for my assumption, but I did not peg you for a cat lover."
"That's because I'm not, but I..." Her voice fades, and she ponders on whether she should tell him about the day when she'd woken up to the same cat on her lap, sleeping ever-so peacefully despite her growing unease, but decides against it. Weakness is seen as weakness, no matter what; no matter if Kabuto's the only person she interacts with these days. "Is it not my husband's?"
Kabuto adjusts his glasses over his nose before he lets the feline down on the carpet gently, incorporating himself to his true height again after a pause. He stands only a few inches lower than Sasuke.
"My lord has not the time for these matters."
Sakura nods and bites her lip, taking one step back when the cat looks up at her while he licks his paw. It's like he remembers her, which would be stupid of her to think of, so she asks what has been troubling her for months. She never did give him a name.
"What is his name? Does he have one?"
"I call him Toshi. It is not like he answers to anything, anyway," he says.
Sakura makes a face. Or at least she thinks she does, for her teacher is pursing his lips to contain a smile when she speaks again.
"Toshi? As in wise?" Stunned, she asks, and frowns down at the cat in between them, who is currently licking his lower leg in a show of flexibility. Nothing particularly wise about that, she thinks. "Why name it this?"
"It was either Toshi or Xue, and I think I have grown soft on Konoha's nicknames, so I decided for the latter."
And with that, he moves toward her finished work by the long bench, inspecting everything with a clinical eye through his magnifying glasses, but Sakura can only stare in confusion. She has never heard the word Xue, neither here nor in her lifetime outside the castle.
The man is already an enigma to her, very secretive and quiet, keeping personal matters to himself all the time, to now mention a name in a tongue she has never heard of before. It's already enough that he lives so differently to every other person in the nation of Fire; this name only makes her deepest suspicions stronger.
She turns on her heel and looks at his back while he looks over the herbs she has collected, and she speaks loud and clear.
"I have never heard such a name before."
With a pause, he talks without facing her, only making her suspicions grow further.
"Which name? Xue? It only means snow, which looks just like the colour of his fur."
Sakura knows how to say snow in her language, and the several words which can describe it. She has never heard it before, which can only mean it doesn't belong here. She takes a step forward; the cat runs back to the windowsill without them noticing.
"Are you not from Konoha? Are you not from Fire?" She inquires, eyes cold and calculating as she watches his back. It tenses for a second before he turns to regard her, a small smile gracing his face but not quite reaching his eyes just yet.
"Of course I am, my lady, though my family was not. They were travelers from far away and had me in a small village South of Fire. It is there where I grew up, though they talked to me in their native tongue from time to time," he explains slowly, as if afraid she might stumble back and walk through the door, report him for treason to the castle's guards and have him prosecuted.
Maybe it is what she ought to do, for he is sworn to the Uchiha clan and Uchiha only, and cannot possibly be from any far off land, wherever that is, especially since the trading with neighbouring countries had stopped during the summer. Yet his stance is relaxed and his voice is soft, gentle, and his smile is still there to reassure her. He has not given her any reasons as to why she would not believe him, so she only nods once in understanding. The man has only shown kindness to her, after all, and that's the most she can ask for while trapped behind the tall walls surrounding the castle—her forever home.
"I see you have identified the right herbs. I am quite impressed at your learning speed, really," as soon as he changes the topic and turns around to face her work again, she joins him with a smile of her own, joyfully explaining why she had retrieved them in the first place.
She doesn't catch his eyes sharply shifting from the dry herbs to her face, or the subtle sag to his shoulders. And in the midst of her ramblings, she doesn't catch the dark gleam that crosses his eyes.
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During the month of December, most of her training shifts gears completely. The temperatures drop like never before in the year and, unless they're evergreen, most plants remain dead or dormant for the last month left in the year.
Kabuto starts describing the human body to her, starting with the brain and moving over to the eyes. She knows he's glossing over the terms and their functions; she knows he's holding back from the whole truth, but he only tells her to be patient and she can only acquiesce.
Hence, days are not entirely spent in his small house. It's way too cold and, on some days, she can manage with a few layers of clothes and a coat thrown over her shoulders. But on the days when it snows heavily, she has no way to walk across the castle, the gardens, and reach his abode, so she spends more days than not inside her castle, reading old political books she has no interest in and eating alone in the grand dining area.
With so much time in her hands, she does what she hasn't done in months. She thinks. She thinks of him because there's nothing else to do in the big but otherwise empty, lonely house, and she comforts herself by telling herself this when his face does manage to cross her mind. She doesn't really want to think of him or his careless words, but she still does anyway.
There is a reason why he refrains from having children yet. There is a reason why he ignores her, moves away from her even as they live together, and distances himself from her so abruptly. There is a reason why he refrains from touching her further when she knows he wants to. There must be a reason to explain why he locks himself inside his study room most days, only letting one or two of his advisors in at a time.
However, at the end of each day, the only person who can truly answer her worries is the man itself, and she's in no condition to face him again after the last blow she took.
So she only reads novels she has no interest in, walks over to Kabuto's whenever the weather considers it appropriate, and watches her husband's distant but familiar back on their bed every night, slowly moving up and down with each breath, unaware of her vulnerable, questioning eyes tracing over every single ridge and scar on his bare skin.
She doesn't want to think of him or his heavy words, but she does anyway. She doesn't want to care, but it's on one night in the middle of winter that she breaks the fragile wall around her heart, and she does just that.
She wakes up to the sound of shuffling of clothes and bedsheets moving, and finds that Sasuke is turning in his sleep to face her, on his side, with one hand under his pillow and the other in front of his chest.
And he looks so troubled, so not at peace, so not like she knows him, with dark bags under his eyes and a new set of wrinkles on his forehead. It reminds her of the night they'd shared; he'd been having a nightmare back then, too. Though now she knows he feels untouchable.
In his tossing and turning, he's close enough that she can smell the scent from the bathroom's candles and oils; she can smell, underneath all the soap, the warm scent of freshly-cut grass, old wood, and smoke. It's a familiarity that she didn't know had become familiar, and she wants to erase his troubles with her hands, touch the bags under his eyes so they disappear, and hold him close so he doesn't move away ever again.
As it is, with how their last encounter had transpired and how much time has passed since they'd last spoken, she can only manage a sigh.
He remains asleep, brows furrowed together in nightmares she knows he keeps having too well, though she does nothing now to appease him. Her hand stays unmoving even as her will is strong against her better judgement; were she to touch him in any way, and were he to wake, his reaction would be no good for any of them.
She closes her eyes in hopes of falling asleep; in hopes of forgetting his smell and his nightmares and her incessant overthinking over the situation. Alas, by the time she finds contentment in the peace of her mind, and right on the edge of finding the craved sleep she so desires, he moves further.
She gasps and opens her eyes wide when she feels his leg bumping into her own, for only a moment, as he tries to find a comfortable position to get rid of whatever plagues his dreams. She stares at him as he sleeps through everything that he's doing, stares at the way his frown deepens and his lips purse in a grimace.
If fate is testing her, then she has failed miserably.
His previous fussing has made strands of hair curtain his eyes and shield him away from her own, and she may have failed not only fate, but herself, when she doesn't find an ounce of hesitance as she lifts her arm slowly.
With one small, thin hand, she moves his long bangs away from his face, tucking them away behind his ear. Her touch is slow and gentle, soft so as to not wake him or disturb him in his sleep.
It's quite the opposite, somehow. As soon as she retreats her hand into the confines of her warm bedsheets, she takes a closer look at his face to make sure he's truly asleep. Where before there was a frown, there is none now, and whatever had been sitting on his chest before is gone as well, for his breaths come out in slower patterns.
More at ease, Sakura gives him a small smile he can't see, and finds peace in the sleep she can finally reach.
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Sasuke owns three horses at the private stables of his castle. Two of them are as black as night, and the other is of a light brown, yet only one has been his since childhood. Old, reliable Yami has been at his side ever before his family's demise, and long after.
He still remembers the late afternoons spent playing with Itachi at the gardens, watching as his mother rode atop Yami, caressed her mane with care, and fed her apples from time to time. Even as those memories fade, the knowledge will always be there to remind him this is the only thing he has left of the woman who raised him: an old, stubborn, tired black horse. Maybe it's that knowledge that makes him still care; still show up at the stables every now and then, never really able of letting go.
His mother, all soft angles and fair skin, with hair dark as coal and eyes darker, yet somehow full of warmth for the family and the nation. She was, without a doubt, the strongest and kindest woman he has ever come to know.
And in a moment of consideration and doubt, as he walks under the welcome sun barely touching him in winter, he compares her to his wife for only a second, but he tampers the thoughts when they start leading to no good, starting with the fact that Mikoto was smitten with Yami, and Sakura can't even look at her from a distance.
He enters the stables and sighs, bypassing the other two horses, given to him as wedding gifts on two separate occasions, and opens the door to Yami's quarters. Her tired eyes look at him in acknowledgment, silently saluting him, but otherwise doesn't move.
"Hey," he says, taking the reins and saddle out to put them on her—not that he'll ride her at her old age, but he still makes it a habit to take her out and walk around the gardens, if only to prolong the time left a little more.
It's as he walks out with Yami at his side—as he rounds a corner of the gardens and moves the horse away before she can step down on Sakura's treasured flowers, now dry and dormant—that he sees her. His wife. A few trees away from her—ever so graceful and ethereal and lovely, walking along the somber, white-painted gardens with a man by her side—he stops walking altogether.
She wears a coat and a scarf, and baggy, training trousers he can only guess she took from his side of the closet, and it's the first time he sees her wear anything other than a dress. She walks ahead of him with a man much taller than her, and Sasuke can't make out who it is because of a hat on the back of his head, though when they stop and turn to look at a still-green shrub, he narrows his eyes.
There's no doubt it's Kabuto. Even from such a distance between them, Sasuke can see him as clear as day.
He doesn't turn away and walk in a different direction because his wife has been spending time with the clan's official healer, nor does he because they'd walked close enough to brush arms, but because it's the first time he sees her smile at someone other than him, and this one is bright and genuine and happy.
Happy, something that he has never seen her wear ever since their marriage, and something that he never knew could fit her so well.
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"You weren't at dinner today," he interrupts the silence, back resting against the wall and one leg bent on the bed. He's sitting on his side of the bed, cold eyes trained on the slightly open bathroom door and the shadows behind it as his wife moves about. "Where were you?"
Doning a long nightgown, she slides the door open and stops at the threshold of the bathroom, crossing her arms across her chest and looking across the room toward the bed—even though it's too dark to see much past the shadows from the absence of the moon's glow. Her hair is still damp from the quick bath she'd taken, and she wants nothing more than to hide her body under the covers of the bed. The room's only window may be closed, but it's frosted over and the cold still manages to seep in through the cracks.
"I thought you might be asleep, dear," she responds, voice small but sure, unwavering. She pads over to the bed at last, lest she catches a cold for her careless behaviour. She slides the covers on her side away, lays her head on her soft, big pillow, and covers herself from chin to toe with a contented sigh, until she realises the room is too quiet now.
There's no reply for a long time, only the sounds of Sasuke's personnel cleaning after dinner three floors down. She pretends to not have heard him speak in the first place and closes her eyes in hopes of finding sleep, but when Sasuke speaks close to her once again, she wonders if he notices the slight jump she gives under the blankets.
"You must be busy, if you spend your days away from the castle."
His voice reaches her ears loudly, yet she knows his comment was only but a whisper in the quiet of their shared room. Whatever he is thinking, she doesn't know, but she understands something from the beginning; holds on to it until she has to bite her tongue in order to stay quiet; bites her tongue until she has to speak against her better judgement. His implications mean nothing against her interpretation.
Away from the castle.
"If only I could be granted such an honour," she mutters under her breath, glaring at the darkness of the ceiling overhead.
"That's not..."
But she doesn't want to hear him. She wants to sleep, so she turns away and gives him her back, pulling the covers closer to her face as if to shield herself from anything he might throw at her.
This is the first time she has spoken to him in months, yet all she craves is a good night's sleep. Away from his exasperated sighs and demanding tone, away from what he really wants to know, because she knows where this is headed.
He pushes her away once and she tries again. He pushes her away twice and she tries again. She doesn't want to try again anymore; not now.
"Not busy, Sasuke," she says, her voice sounding far away as she still doesn't face him. "Bored."
His response comes quickly and sure of itself; as if he has been wanting to say this from the start, like he probably has.
"What an entertainment my healer must be."
At this, her breath hitches. As she had suspected from the beginning, Sasuke only wants to discuss her daily meetings with Kabuto. She can only guess it's because, not too many days ago, she saw him looking at them out in the gardens. And if she knows a thing or two about her husband, it's that he always finds a way to appear direct, blunt, and imposing in order to get what he wishes at the time he wishes.
She wants to turn, but she's afraid of what she might say to him if she sees his pretty, heavenly-sculpted face; or what she might not say, in this case.
With a slow, exasperated sigh, she shakes her head slowly. She may still be hurt from their last encounter, but she can't afford to think like this. He's her husband and, despite their arguments and disagreements, they are still under oath. She will forever be linked to him in matrimony, and she will not disrespect him more than she already has, if she already has.
She takes a breath before she speaks again, voice muffled by the covers and laced with sleep, but otherwise understandable—which makes it all the more tragic.
"I had been reading about medicine for a long time before he agreed to train me. Yakushi Kabuto is merely teaching me about the human body now."
"I am sure he is." She hears him, though the sound is low and more like a loud thought, and she takes a few seconds to process his words. Whatever he means is answered when he opens his mouth again, and she audibly gasps at what he's implying—and the notion that it has been months, yet he still remembers their last conversation. "Tell me, is he primitive as well, dear?"
All the sleep she had been craving seconds ago leaves her as soon as she hears the words.
She turns and holds the blankets closer to her body, frowning at her stubborn, possibly-jealous, prying husband. It's in her best interest if she denies his suspicions now, or else she won't have anyone to train with in the morning.
"You mustn't think that. I am interested in the art of healing, so I've found a better way to spend my days: training under his tutelage."
Sasuke only looks at her at arm's length on the bed, facing her while she faces him, and she only wishes she could see him better at this time of night. But the moon—if there even is one tonight—can't go through the cracks on the window, so she only stares back at two glowing, dark eyes.
"Sasuke-kun."
If he believes her or not, she can't tell. He dismisses her after a heartbeat, like he hadn't heard her explanation at all.
"If you are as bored as you say, meet me at the stables first thing in the morning."
He turns to give her his back, and she can only guess that he's deemed the conversation finished.
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She wears trousers and a jacket with a thick coat on top, and enters the stables to find the man already there, brushing the mane of his horse inside one of the large, individual cubicles. The animal only glares at her and snorts, unsure of what she's doing there but most likely recognising her as the crazy lady who used to complain about her ruined flowers. Sakura herself has no idea, but when Sasuke reaches over a shelf and hands her a helmet, she vaguely gets it. However, her denial is as big as her wit, and she spends quite some time in front of the stables where she can only blankly stare at it.
"Put it on," he says, holding out the helmet even when she keeps staring at it, unmoving.
After a minute, he sighs and steps out of the cubicle, moving closer to her and placing the helmet on her head, locking it in place.
"I'll let you choose between them," he says, pointing to the other two horses and moving closer to—who she guesses is—Yami again.
"What?"
He pauses, glancing in her direction with piercing black eyes, locking eyes with her for only a second before he looks toward Yami and continues brushing her, never mind the ever-growing paranoia inside his wife's brain.
Sakura can only glare holes into the ground. Sasuke doesn't answer her; he doesn't order her to ride or go back into the castle, which makes the situation worse. By ignoring her, she can only stand there indefinitely—without his saying, she can't walk away from the situation, but she doesn't particularly want to do as he implies.
Sakura doesn't know how much time passes by, but after a certain amount of time she sees her husband put the brush to the side and walk out of the cubicle. Carefully and attentively, she watches as he walks toward her, and a knot forms in her gut at the notion.
"Forgive me, but I am not riding your horse," she says—or manages to articulate, because Sasuke moving out of the stables and into her space, added to the glare she's still receiving from his favourite horse, threatens to silence her.
Sasuke shakes his head once and frowns, pursing his lips as he thinks his answer through. He stops three feet in front of her.
"Yami is not available. Choose between the remaining two."
Even as she finds this information interesting, all she can do is shake her head and take one step back in alarm. The helmet on her head rests heavily over her.
"I've never done that," she explains, finding her voice again when she glances to the remaining two horses in the back. "I thought you knew that I do not go along well with animals."
"Then I will teach you."
"You can not teach me, Sasuke-kun. Animals are violent, uncontrollable creatures. And they do not fancy me in the slightest."
With a nod and a faint smirk, Sasuke starts walking back into the stables.
"Let me be the judge of that," and with that, his sound coming out in hard, velvety waves, she knows she has lost—not that she would ever win against her husband, but denial is a strong thing. "Which one?" He asks as soon as he reaches the two cubicles again, and she has to qualm her desire to groan into the helmet.
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She ends up choosing the light brown horse only because the other dark one resembles Yami maybe a little too much, and she doesn't want to take any chances. She'd not appreciate a horse throwing her on the ground or giving her a harder time than she already knows it's going to.
Her experience with horses may be limited—hell, her experience with every animal is limited—but she knows the risks of every situation well enough, and there are many, many things that could go wrong with a horse double her size.
Nevertheless, she adjusts her helmet, closes her coat more tightly against the light, cold breeze, and watches as Sasuke brings her choice out from the stables and onto the snow—a choice which is merely, she thinks, the lesser of two evils.
She walks closer with confidence, steadily and surely, though the horse snorting and shaking its head when it glances her way almost makes her trip. Sasuke stands next to the brown horse and stares at her slow but steady walk, securely holding the reins with one hand, the leather coiled around his hand twice for added measure.
When she stands next to him and the animal, he pays close attention to her next move. Her small frame and reduced strength shouldn't enable her to climb on top of the saddle, especially since she has probably never done such thing in her life, but her confidence is something he appreciates in her. Even as he's practically forcing her to ride a horse, even as she has an unnatural fear of all animals big and small, she still wears a stubborn mask in the cold of winter.
He has the urge to roll his eyes when she sighs for the umpteenth time, and suddenly all her strength leaves her in little, subtle steps; her shoulders sag, her lips form a small pout, and her hands find each other as she self-consciously stares at the height she has to reach.
Swiftly, he ties the reins around one of the wooden beams that surround the stables, and moves toward her again.
As soon as his hands touch the subtle curves of her small waist, she jumps to the side as if burnt, turns around quickly, and looks at him in surprise.
Sasuke drops his hands after a moment, finding it in himself to tamper the frustration in his veins; he wants to stride over and lift her on the horse and get it done with, but instead all he does is stare and all she does is shift between him and the animal.
What an infuriating woman.
"I don't think you reach, Sakura."
He sees the wheels turning in her brain. When her head snaps up and her clear eyes lock with his, it's with understanding for what he'd been trying to do: help her. He has the urge to frown when she could think otherwise.
"Oh," she breathes, glancing at the horse and watching as it tries to find grass where there isn't any; all is covered by a thin mantle of snow. "I appreciate you trying to help, but I can very well get on. I just need a second."
In the distance, her husband's stationed guards try to do anything but stare from the back entrance of the castle, though it is a comical sight to witness by anyone near—a small woman trying to figure out how to get on a horse for the first time and without any help while her husband watches exasperated.
With a sigh, Sasuke retrieves the reins and holds them tightly in his grasp, coming up to the side of the horse's head and looking back at Sakura—somehow, he wonders, and not without a struggle—already on the saddle and holding a set of extra reins like her life depends on it.
"Your feet go on the stirrups," he mentions, pointing to the leather straps hanging from the saddle with his head.
"Thank you. I'm ready, you can let go now," she states, nods and looks toward the gardens. And she speaks with such determination and conviction that he almost wants to let go of the reins and watch. If it weren't for the fact that she would most definitely make a fool of herself and fall from the saddle, he would.
Instead, he shakes his head and turns in order to face forward. With a simple tug, he starts walking slowly, glancing at Sakura when she yelps at the sudden movement of the animal moving.
Her eyes are as big and bright as he has ever seen them, looking under her and around her, and glancing at him in alarm after the horse gives a few trots that lift her from the seat suddenly.
"Don't let go!"
"I am only walking, Sakura."
"And I'm not used to this, Sasuke-kun."
He gives her a look and she clamps her mouth shut, though she doesn't waste her energy and directs her glare to a nearby tree instead.
After a few seconds, she notices he starts leading them into the forest he uses to train in, and he speaks amidst the silence.
"I won't let go."
She doesn't want to think about what that could possibly mean outside this random, terrifying activity, so she only holds the reins tighter and looks at anything other than her husband.
They go through the forest and come out from the Eastern entrance, arriving at the stables once more after only ten minutes. This time, she lets him help her get down only because she can barely feel her hands and behind, but makes sure to distance herself and bow curtly as soon as he lets go of her hips.
As she walks away, she can almost feel his eyes follow her every movement. She can't help but think that, this time, after many restless nights and repressed feelings over his hurtful words so many days ago, it's his time to watch her back.
A/N: Catch me with them referencesss to canon. ;)