A/N: Dropping this highly awaited chapter (and the longest chapter so far at over 10k) right before my finals to destress a bit. I took more time writing it than intended because I was trying to make the scenes as perfect as possible given the circumstances, and it unfortunately proved to be harder than I thought. I hope you guys are happy with them though, so please feel free to leave a review with your thoughts. I have edited this so much I don't ever wanna look at it ever again like, ever.
Replying to Lysergic, who was confused about what really happened to Sasuke's wives: I already messaged the reader back but I thought everyone here would want to know the answer as well, so lemme do some copy and paste here for ya. The thing about Sasuke's wives is that nobody in the general population knows what exactly happened to them. Rumors in the nation can say they escaped, killed themselves, or were killed by Sasuke himself, but nobody really knows. Then in later chapters Sasuke finally confesses that his first wife really killed herself after losing an unborn child, which lets Sakura know what happened. I might make an edit in chapter one and two so as to not confuse readers so much, but the truth is that the villagers don't know anything about the deaths of Sasuke's wives because it's been hidden that way. Thank you for pointing it out, and I hope this clears it up. :)
Thank you everyone else for your wonderful reviews! We reached 600 follows!
The perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one and it would not be a wasted life.
- Ken Watanabe (1959-).
Sasuke calls for another meeting as the three week mark approaches, not a moment before and not a moment after. This time, however, he only calls for Rock Lee to show his face inside his study, and not his other two advisors like the last time.
In reality, he only wishes to know about his mission to Willow, the village Orochimaru's been looking over for years now near the Southern border of Fire. The trip alone by foot takes one week, which is why he had given the man three to complete the mission thoroughly. It surely should have been plenty of time.
He watches as Lee slides open the door to his main study room, where he conducts most of his meetings, and closes it a second later. Sasuke, sitting on the zabuton on one side of the small table, extends his arm toward the seat in front of him as an invitation.
"Lee," he says, his voice projecting in the mostly empty room, "I am glad you could return safely."
Of course, he hadn't expected Orochimaru to openly and recklessly inflict damage on his most trusted Samurai leader. At least, not when Sasuke had sent him there with underlying intentions that he just knows Orochimaru had had to pick up from—that is, if Orochimaru had found out his ploy at all.
Lee sits after a slight bow, careful to not knock the tea over with his body in full armour—he had truly just got back from traveling, it seems. He must have followed on his order and come straight from the gates of the village to his castle without a second to waste.
Sasuke takes a sip of his tea and clears his throat after he has finally set himself down in front of him.
"I imagine you must be tired from such a long journey," Sasuke adds, noticing the few specks of dried blood on his heavy armour. He most likely had come face to face with a few rogue villagers here and there; not a feat for a man of his caliber. "You are free to go as soon as you finish your report."
Lee nods, breathing raggedly from the energy of rushing over to the castle in such heavy armour and under the harsh sun's glare.
Sasuke waits, leaves the small cup on the table, and the sound it makes upon contact makes Lee speak at last. By the time he does, his breathing has evened out and his palms are not sweaty anymore.
"After trying to get close to lord Orochimaru for days without being spotted, I overheard a few of his advisors whisper about him leaving the village for a few days. I assumed it was for a meeting of some sorts, and didn't think twice about following from a distance," Lee explains, pausing for a moment before recounting the events after that.
"He traveled by carriage for days on end, and it took some time for me to realise where exactly he was heading to," something crosses his eyes, something dark that has Sasuke on the edge of his seat, eager to catch the news that only end up confusing him deeply.
"My lord, he was traveling to Konoha. Here."
Sasuke blinks, frowns, and inches forward on his seat.
"That is unlikely. I did not call for a meeting with him here."
"Which is why I kept following him even after he passed through the gates by nightfall a few days back."
Sasuke's frown deepens, finding it hard to understand why he would take such a long trip to come here. Sasuke hadn't even seen him to begin with, which can only mean he hadn't come here to see his superior, but someone else.
"And?" He asks, probing deeper into the matter at hand.
Lee, eyes downcast and mood uncharacteristically sour, tightens his hands into fists on the thick material of his lap and makes an expression.
"My lord, he made a stop by the council's residency. He was wearing a dark hood to appear unrecognisable when he got down from the carriage, and he spent three hours inside. After that, I followed him out of the village, but as soon as I noticed he was heading back to Willow, I stopped and came back to tell you."
Sasuke stares at Lee for a long time, and then some. He deems this has been the end of Lee's explanations, and nods after a few heartbeats as he watches the poor man's face bracing for any impulses his leader might have.
But Sasuke stays silent, pensive, and taciturn as he processes the news of Orochimaru visiting the council in secret, and leaving without a trace. Visiting the council behind his back. The council allowing such meeting behind his back.
He has always thought the old couple to be suspicious, holding back information and acting like they were the ones in charge of the country, but Sasuke hadn't thought the level of betrayal could go this high for the ever-wise, ancient council—sworn to stand by the Uchiha clan, and the Uchiha clan only.
This new piece of information only complicates things. Not only is Orochimaru, lord of Willow and direct subject under Sasuke's rule, acting on his own without permission, going over his head, and breaking the rules enforced by his clan, but the council is too. The Council, led and started by Homura and Koharu, which has been standing beside the Uchiha clan since the end of Danzō.
Danzō.
And then, in a moment of realisation, Sasuke thinks this is not so far off from what should have been expected. His grandfather hadn't seen it. His father hadn't seen it. His brother hadn't seen it. But he's seeing it now, in front of his eyes, like a red, putrid and filthy stain on the snow of the mountains due North.
Back then, back when the nation was at war, in the middle of it as its ruthless leader made every village turn against each other, back then when the Uchiha hadn't taken over yet, the same council that serves him now had served Danzō as well. They used to be Danzō's advisors, and they swore to stand by his clan when this one ended the man so many years ago, desperately begging to do so in order to stay alive.
Sasuke sees it, plain as day. This could be the final piece of the puzzle he has been trying to build since Sakura told him the truth of his clan, his country, and the war. This could end it all; the suffering and the anxiousness and the uncertainty of the future.
Admittedly, they took part in advising his father and his brother for many years, but Sasuke has never trusted them enough to bring them into his meetings. After all, he ended the civil war that they could not, and he did it all on his own.
Now that Lee is telling him they might be traitors of the Uchiha Shogunate, Sasuke is suddenly relieved he did not trust them from the moment he took his brother's spot to begin with. For all he knows, the Council may be the face behind all this talk of war in the country.
Sasuke nods once more and sucks in breath through his nose, expelling it as he closes his eyes in a moment of confusion at the unexpected turn of events. An overwhelming feeling flows through him for a moment before he speaks.
"I see," he breathes, opening his eyes and motioning toward the door. He feels, as he has done ever since he became Shogun, way older than what he truly is. "You can go now, Lee."
He doesn't have to be told twice. The man stands, bows, and leaves as if he had never been there to begin with.
Sasuke grabs the finely crafted, bamboo set containing delicate porcelain in front of him with more force than necessary, effortlessly lifting it up. It doesn't really break when he throws it across the room, but he doesn't see it in him to care. If anything, he has the urge to stand and finish the job himself.
.
.
.
He keeps himself occupied for the rest of the day by calling Shikamaru and consulting him about the topic at hand.
Shikamaru reasons with him and gives him several escape routes; several solutions to the problem. Notify Orochimaru to come to the village. Talk to Orochimaru. Keep observing to make sure it's true. Wait to be absolutely certain. Kill Orochimaru if necessary with the necessary proof of treason.
But Sasuke wants none of that. He wants something completely different, and when Shikamaru leaves him be at the end of the day, he doesn't know if it would really be so bad to drop all appearances and do exactly what he wants done.
What has to be done, but no one seems to see it that way. No one seems to even consider that as a possibility.
So instead of thinking it through or letting the best of his anger make him do something he might regret later, he busies himself with something else without meaning to, because the next day, Sakura's ladies come to him with a wooden, relatively large box.
The maids bow to him and present him with a box small enough for one of them to carry with both hands, but big enough to make Sasuke doubtful about its contents. He stands by the main door of the castle, ready to go outside and train under the early morning sky, when they block his way with the object.
"What is it?" He asks, an impatient tap of his foot on the floor.
"This arrived by a messenger yesterday night, my lord. He said it was something you asked of a tailor named Mei," an older woman explains, hands folded neatly over her lap.
Sasuke observes them for a moment.
"Ah," he articulates, taking the wooden box from the young woman's hands and nodding once. Without a word, he turns around on his feet and starts walking back to where he came from, training now forgotten.
He walks up the stairs to his room, going in even though his wife rests peacefully on their bed in such early hours of the morning.
He closes the door carefully behind him, and though he wishes to know the details of what's inside the box, he already knows the general concept.
Mei, a custom tailor from a neighbouring village in the North of Fire, has finally finished what he had ordered a few weeks prior. He only wishes to know just how he had finished it, for there had been no specifics discussed.
Sasuke finds out a second later as he places the box down on the floor by the bed and opens it without a sound.
The softest of materials meet his fingertips as he grabs the outfit, and the softest of colours meet his eyes as he looks upon it.
A custom-made fit for Sakura, as promised, for all the times he expects her to ride his horses outside, or spend time doing manual labour on her gardens without risking getting her delicate garments destroyed.
The shirt and the pants are of a deep red, the colour of blood, and the sash is of a rich, navy blue—with a few lines of the same colour that cover the embroidery on the sidelines of the pants and shirt. To add a more feminine touch to the already masculine outfit, there are several white cherry blossoms embroidered along the legs, all the way up to the upper back. These are the colours of his clan's emblem: the Uchiwa. These are the colours customary to the Uchiha.
Sasuke stares beyond the material to the bed, and watches as Sakura sleeps without knowing a thing a few steps in front of him.
She's lying on her side of the bed facing him, the black covers pulled up to her chin, looking undisturbed and untroubled.
Sasuke stands, grabbing the emsemble beforehand, and walks toward the bed with a glint in his eye. He hasn't planned it, not really, but this is how he will keep himself busy for the rest of the day, if not more, so as to stop himself from following his impulses concerning the forsaken Council.
Sasuke sighs as he places the rich clothes on the bed by her side, and his eyes widen for a second when he watches her open her eyes against all odds, as if beckoned to do so.
She blinks, startled to find him so close to her on the bed, so early in the morning. His hand is only inches away from her face.
He watches as she blinks a few more times and looks up at him, and he speaks before she has the chance to ask him any questions, heart stuck in his throat as soon as their eyes meet.
"I will wait for you by the stables," he declares, pointing at the material by her face with one hand. "Wear this."
And without another word, he leaves the room, ultimately leaving behind a very confused, very sleepy Sakura on the bed wondering what had just happened.
.
.
.
After trying the outfit on and eating a small breakfast, she does as told and heads toward the stables. She doesn't question him about the outfit, and she doesn't plan to do as such, but she still remembers that he had promised her a new set of clothes for riding his horse a few weeks ago.
She hadn't thought he had it in him to actually follow through, but he had done exactly that.
She doesn't tell him it somehow feels fit for her every curve, and that the material is soft and comfortable, and that she especially loves the delicate flower details along her back and the side of her leg, only because she secretly hates the way the colours are so obviously from his infamous clan.
Sometimes, and especially now that they have been more distant than at the start of their marriage, she doesn't really feel like she was made to be in such a prestigious bloodline. She doesn't feel worthy of the title. She simply doesn't feel like she belongs.
And so in these clothes, walking down the hallways and the stairs and toward the stables, she just doesn't feel right.
Regardless of that, she has been part of what remains of the Uchiha clan for four years now, and she will be a part of it until the day in which she dies. So regardless of what she feels, this is her truth, and this is who she's bound to be for the rest of her days.
If anything, she should wear the colours proudly, with confidence, and do by her new joint family like she's been told to—like she has said she would do.
She should.
Sakura reaches the stables barely a few seconds into the sunrise, and the very early rays of light coming from the horizon make it hard to spot Sasuke at first.
She finds him outside the stables, arms crossed as he gives her his back, looking in front of him as the sun slowly rises over their heads. Sakura stops a few steps behind him, and he turns to face her almost as if he had sensed her mere presence.
It's a weird, heavy atmosphere the one they live in right now, around a week since they had talked in their bedroom, and she had told him she would still like to get to know the enigma of her husband if he so would let her. Instead of getting to know him, she has been avoiding him like the plague.
There's a strange, almost palpable tension in between them that threatens to consume her whole. His mere presence a few steps in front of her brings goosebumps on her skin, and it makes it harder to swallow as something akin to nervousness settles in her gut.
She doesn't know why or how, but she somehow knows he feels the same way. She knows he can see the shift between them both; it is nothing that they aren't aware of. After all, how could this be one-sided? How could this gravitational change only affect her and not him? She sees it in the way he looks at her, in a way that only makes her blood run faster through her veins.
He watches her from afar, and Sakura meets his indescribable gaze head on, hands hidden under her long, red sleeves, and long hair swaying with the gentle breeze around them.
If Sasuke finds her staring a sign of defiance, he only acts on it by not being the one to look away first.
And it's only the intensity in his eyes that inadvertently makes her look away for a split second, swallowing down the urge to stop in her tracks and walk back the way she came from.
"Sakura."
"My lord," she responds, though the words don't hold the respect she had displayed a week prior. Before the talk they'd had.
She speaks to him with formal words, yet there is a familiarity behind them that makes him speak the truth, the sound barely reaching her ears amidst the chill that runs through her.
"I had hoped we were past that," he admits.
She wants to answer, but then his eyes drop from her own to her chest, and she follows the way he regards her new clothes all the way to her feet, and then back up; a gift from the man himself.
The appreciation is short-lived as he meets her eyes again just as fast.
If he has anything to say to her, he closes his mouth after a second thought and digresses, choosing to walk toward the stables and enter a stall she has never seen him go in before.
Sakura takes a few steps toward the wooden structure, not really bothering to open the gate of the short fence so as to stay with some kind of barrier between herself and the horses—and, ultimately, him.
Sakura focuses her attention on the stall in front of her, which belongs to Yami, only that there is nothing inside now.
The emptiness only makes her uncomfortable, and she can't stop herself from asking.
"Sasuke?"
"Hm?"
She hears him hum inside the stall all the way to the right, but he doesn't come out to acknowledge her. Nevertheless, it's not like he can't hear her.
"Where's Yami?"
And then, she hears him pause in whatever he has been doing with one of his horses inside the covered stall, and he answers a second later.
"She passed away."
Against all logic and all of her resentment toward the animal, she gasps at the news. Yami may have hated her just as much as she had, but it is still one life lost—and one life that was very precious to Sasuke, if only by the gentleness he always possessed when taking care of her. The kind of gentleness she has only ever seen in him.
"When?" She asks, walking toward the right; toward her husband as he keeps himself busy.
His voice is firm and composed when he answers.
"Two days ago."
Sakura can only stay quiet for a while, and she expresses her condolences as soon as he comes out of the stall to hand her the familiar helmet she's always forced to wear, even though she has never seen him wear it. It's small and simple and, much to her chagrin, extremely unlike his intricate Samurai helmet.
"I know I may not have liked her, but I am sorry for the loss," she says, lowering the helmet over her head and fastening the locks in place. "I know she meant a lot to you."
Sasuke, as expected, says nothing. He only spares her a glance and grabs the seat and the extra set of reins, disappearing behind the stall once again as he begins to get the horse ready for mounting.
Sakura doesn't utter another word because it is not her place, and it is not her horse. She stays looking at the ground until she feels him walk outside and out of the stables with the horse trailing behind him by the rope.
When Sakura looks up, however, she's left looking at a horse she has never seen before.
It's of the same height and build as his other horses, but this one is completely and entirely white. The colour is ethereal, otherworldly, and it matches the flowing mane of the head and of the tail, making it resemble almost like the magical horse in the foreign folklores her father used to tell her when she was little.
Sakura has never seen anything like it.
Sasuke stares at her as she takes the animal in, noticing the way her eyes widen; the way she wears her emotions on her sleeve. She's surprised, in a state of recognition as she marbles in the news.
This hadn't been a marriage gift, unlike the other two horses inside the stables, no. This had been his idea from start to finish, knowing very well how it is in their best interest—if a war were truly to happen, or if the time called for it—that Sakura learns how to properly ride a horse. However, if she has to ride a horse, it might as well be one that she doesn't quite despise. It only makes sense that she be able to trust her mare wholly.
When the keeper had asked him to choose the horse of his liking, he had made his choice in the span of one second. It had been an immediate decision.
"Is she new? I have never seen her before. When did you get her? What's her name?," is all she can muster, the words running over her lips, still gawking in reverie at the majestic being before her eyes.
Sasuke catches only part of what she says and, with an amused brow raised, he answers what he's able to.
"She's new, trained for battle since she was born," he pauses. "And she's yours."
"Mine?"
She doesn't comment on why exactly she would need the horse to be ready for battle; a cavalry horse fit for war; a charger of the highest caliber. She also doesn't know why he would get her a new horse if she already knows his older one and they don't even get along that well. She doesn't know why he would go out of his way to buy her something that she would hate anyway.
But she admires the way he has thought this through, though, because how could she hate something so pure and beautiful? How could she be afraid of this ethereal being with eyes so dark and soft they could reach into her soul? How could she be afraid of snow-coloured skin and hair in a world where there is only darkness?
It's a smart move, she'll give him that.
"Come closer," Sasuke says, voice low so as to not frighten the animal.
When Sakura does as told, he extends his hand toward her so she can grab it. There is hesitance there. Where once he would have forcefully grabbed her wrist, now he merely extends his hand in a show of respect and hesitancy, as if testing the waters.
Sakura grants him the satisfaction of compliance, and she places her hand on top of his at last, only to be guided closer to the mare. Her hand is placed where Sasuke's had been a minute before, and he moves it against the creature's skin whilst looking at her.
"Feel her. She will be your personal horse from now own," Sasuke explains. "She is brought from abroad, trained from a young age to be gentle but resilient. You can give her a name if you'd like."
Sakura doesn't feel fear when she caresses and pets this particular animal, and for that she is as glad as she is surprised. But then, something doesn't quite make sense in her brain, and she pauses for a second to spare him a glance from the short distance between them. He's behind her, but close enough to the side that she can turn her face and make out his own.
"Did you not end trading last year?"
It's an exception. A one-time, hidden trade managed with secrecy. A solution to justify the means. An exception for you.
Sasuke blinks as the thought crosses his mind. He shakes it away and clears his throat.
"I can import and export specific items from time to time without anyone in the nation being aware of it," he says, dropping his hand from hers when it burns. "Consider this a late wedding gift."
Sakura looks at him, then, and does something he doesn't expect from her. With the early, soft light touching the round tip of her nose and her rose-gold, butterfly eyelashes, she offers him a small, grateful smile, looking back at the horse a second later as if nothing. But it was there, and he saw it, and the image of her gentle eyes and small dimples is replayed in his mind at least twice more before it finally fades away.
The one second it lasts is all it takes for Sasuke's heart to skip a beat.
"Thank you, she's quite lovely."
He helps her get up, and his touch on her small waist makes his hands burn some more with something he does not want to think about. The trip to the forest, around it, and back is one they know well from previous walks. He still holds on to his set on reins and she still holds on to hers, but her eyes drop to his profile more than once during the ordeal, and his mind still goes back to things he shouldn't entertain.
With every touch from her small hands, every look from her fierce green eyes, every word uttered from her small, full lips, there is a certain something that forms in the pit of his stomach. It makes him unable to breathe properly; it makes his skin sweaty and clammy.
He dares not put a name to it.
.
.
.
That night, while lying in bed, ready to sleep at arm's length like it has always been, Sakura turns to face him—or to face his back, more specifically. She whispers his name against the faint glow of the moonlight shining through their window, but when there is no response, she almost gives up entirely.
"Sasuke?"
But she tries again against all odds, and hears him hum without moving an inch from his position on the spacious, large bed. He's either talking in his sleep, or trying to go back to sleep and ignore her questions. She sighs and gives him a few more seconds, touching the bedsheets next to her face as she faces his broad, naked back, not visible to the eye in the darkness surrounding them so late in the night.
She whispers his name now, making sure he's truly listening to her and, even though she doesn't even get a hum this time around, she tells him anyway.
"Eri. I'm naming her Eri," she whispers, but when he remains silent, she feels the need to explain further. "The mare you gifted me, I mean. It's a pretty name, I think; means a blessing, something precious from someone else. If I recall correctly, it also means gentle, calm, and beautiful."
She finishes while looking at his unmoving back for a few seconds, and he only turns on his side to face her once his sleep threatens to leave him completely.
Sakura never talks to him at night, on their bed, as they get ready to sleep. It's only the random, unimportant topic of her new horse that makes him sure there's something bigger that is bothering her—bothering her enough to bother him at this hour.
He stares at the pale of her immaculate skin, highlighted by the moon's weak glow; the haunting colour of her green, electric eyes; the worried purse of her lips, pulling them down as though she has something else on her mind.
"Eri is an appropriate name," he whispers back, following her lead to see how far she takes it; to see how long he has to wait to hear the real reason behind her worries.
Not that far, it seems, since she asks something of him as soon as the last word leaves his mouth.
"Why did you allow me to see the healer again?"
Her voice is firmer, a little louder and a little less hesitant.
Sasuke looks away.
"It does not matter."
"It matters to me."
Sasuke meets her gaze once more, taking in the genuine interest all over her face. Out of all the concerns, worries, she could have had, he hadn't expected this much bluntness coming from her.
Why, she asks? Why, when he had forbidden their contact once before? Why, when he had told her to stay away without any room for discussion, which had indirectly made her break down a few days past, all while in front of him? Why, when he had spent hours thinking and thinking it over again, the way she had been so upset about it? Why, when all he could remember for days was her face, defying him, testing his barriers? Even now, he doesn't know he made the right choice in letting her see him again.
Maybe it had been their talk a few days prior which had made him reconsider. Maybe it had been the slow but sure discoveries about who Kabuto really was that had made him momentarily risk her safety so as to get more answers. Maybe it had been his newfound interest in trusting her, in believing her, blindly and unconditionally as he is supposed to.
But then he remembers the broken pieces of their marriage that they can never pick up, the tears he has seen on her face, and the genuine, happy smiles she never truly gives him the same way she gives others. He remembers the things he has denied her, the protection veil he has cast around her from the moment he'd first met her.
He remembers, though the feeling is bittersweet in his chest, how he can only ever seem to hurt the only person who only ever tries to make him happy.
He can't do much because he does not know how to, and because there are high levels of risk in the country at the moment, but if she wants to be trusted and included in his life, then he will grant her this. If learning medicine on a daily basis brings even the smallest of joys into her days, then he will overlook the dread he feels when he thinks about her direct mentor for that matter.
If he can make it less of a hassle to ride a horse by giving her one to her liking, then he will give her however many; however many until she can ride on her own, fearless of doing so.
Sasuke looks at her from across the bed, and sighs in the big space between them.
"Go to sleep, Sakura."
He turns, giving her his back again, but he never really finds it in himself to sleep again throughout the night, and she never finds it in herself to see the healer ever again either.
.
.
.
Sasuke comes home dripping blood one day.
It's her birthday, and unlike previous years during her childhood, she doesn't have a big celebration with her family and friends. In fact, no one in the castle seems to be aware that it's her birthday, and she mostly spends it on her own.
The castle is quiet, Sasuke had got up before the sun and disappeared for the rest of the day, and Kabuto spends the day inside his small hut—and she knows because, if if weren't for that fact, she would have found the perfect opportunity to explore whatever it is that resides under the carpet floor of said cottage.
Nevertheless, it's calm and quiet, and she eats lunch and dines and reads one of her favourite medical books in the library. She wears a comfortable attire and lets her hair down, and she greets the maids that follow her almost everywhere around the castle as customary of every other day, just like any other day.
As the sun dips below the horizon and the light fades from Konoha, she lights the several candles around her bedroom, and does the same for the bathroom.
Her birthday is spent as with any other ordinary day, dull and uneventful. She doesn't really have it in her anymore to care; she doesn't have it in her to tell anyone either, because it just wouldn't be the same without all the people she used to share the day with, and that's fine by her. Her mother, Ino, her father... It just wouldn't be the same, starting with the fact that her father couldn't possibly be there with her as the others could.
However, when the sun dips and she lights the candles, she steps into the bedroom's joint bathroom, and she does the only thing she had been avoiding since the start of the day: celebrating her birthday. Granted, it was just a bath, like the ones she took everyday. Only that this one was different.
She had asked her maids as a last request of the day to fill up the circular bath for her with warm water and rose oils, and they had done that and more. Sakura notices there are also actual petals from different flowers she can't see well enough floating on the water's surface, and some stick to her skin once she finally enters the large barrel-like structure, sitting on her knees so as to make the water reach the top of her collarbones.
She lets her hair down into the water and dips below, completely covering her head and body in the water beneath her. She takes the liberty of staying under for a few seconds more than necessary, opening her eyes under the water and seeing nothing but darkness in the surface above. Light, small sparks fly from the dimness the candles provide, but the disappointment settles in after they fade out every few seconds.
She resurfaces with a sigh.
It's only so often that she takes baths like this one; she isn't supposed to take more than ten minutes, really, and she isn't supposed to take baths so late into the night, much less after dinner. And so here, while there is no one to bother her with the time, she leans back and closes her eyes against the wooden border of the barrel. The maids have gone to sleep in their quarters or their village homes, the animals around the castle are in deep slumber, and her husband is nowhere to be found—which is no anomaly in itself.
And in the total silence that the night provides her, she unmistakably listens to the sound of the main bedroom door opening with a small creak.
At first, she doesn't think much of it; blames it on basic paranoia coming from the white noise that the night offers. But she hears the dragged, slow and soft steps on the tatami floor. The sound is clear and loud, and she's looking around for something to grab in her hands—some sort of weapon—before this someone can reach the bathroom door and catch her empty-handed.
Only that it's just Sasuke, her husband, who the shadow behind the bathroom door belongs to. It's just Sasuke, but at the same time it's not.
There is a foul, copper-like smell that drifts into the room as he slides the door open and steps in, and the fact that he hadn't expected her to be taking a bath only makes him stop dead in his tracks, and it grants her the necessary time to look him over.
From the hint of light the burning flames offer her, she can tell he's wearing his army's signature armour, chest plate and body guards included, though his hair is free from his customary heavy helmet. A closer look lets her see he's loosely carrying it in his hand.
She can tell he's been fighting if only from the lethargic stance he has taken, and the scent that comes from his clothes only lets her know there has been blood involved in whatever the man had to partake in earlier that day.
Blood.
She's snapped out of her thoughts in an instant, the obvious making itself present in her mind before anything else.
It only makes sense, as she turns and inspects him from the water, that he has fought against someone. Evidently, traces of blood on his armour couldn't possibly mean he had merely trained by himself as he's proned to do. No. This only means there were at least two people involved in whatever he had done. But the question stands, as she looks up at his indescribable stare, if that is someone else's blood, or his.
She speaks the moment he takes a hesitant step back.
"Sasuke," she calls out.
Immediately, she swims to the front of the bath and presses her front against the wood so she can see him clearer, now the closest she can be to the door without revealing her nude form.
"What happened?" And with a pause, she asks, "Are you hurt?"
Sasuke remains in his place, staring at her with eyes that seem red under the glowing fire around them. It's the second time she has blinked and caught a glimpse of scarlet, glowing eyes from him; both times under the effect of different lighting.
It beckons Sakura to extend her arm toward him, asking of him to come closer, to allow her the chance to look at him from an even closer perspective; to see if he's hurt, or if he's only sporting the blood of his enemies. Instead, he overlooks her genuine offer and takes another step back—this time sure of himself, confident—grabbing the edge of the door in an attempt to get out not a second later.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," he says, though the words are slurred and rushed. "I will come back later."
Sakura doesn't know why, but she feels the urge to reach out to him. And in a bout of panic, she does exactly as her heart says.
"Wait! Please," she pleads, not wanting to let go of the anxiousness that has settled inside her being at the prospect of her husband being injured—or having injured someone else for that matter.
In an attempt to change the topic and make him stay, thereby allowing her to see if he really is injured, she blurts out the next best thing that comes to mind. With that, the atmosphere changes entirely toward something that feels even more suffocating.
"Were you meaning to take a bath?"
Sasuke, back turned to her and hand already grasping the door to step out and close it behind him, turns his head to the side when he hears her words.
"You can still take one. I suppose it's not a problem."
Sasuke completely turns to look back at her, and in the penumbra of the door, all she sees is red. Red, hypnotising eyes drilling holes into her own before she blinks, and then the mirage is gone as if it was never there.
"That won't be necessary."
"It is not like we haven't shared a bath before," she adds, remembering quite well the last time they had, right after he had saved her life—more than a year since now, if she recalls correctly. "You can join me if you want."
She really doesn't have to keep trying to convince the man. After all, he has voiced out his opinion more than once in the last five minutes, and she doesn't have to hear it one more time to know he feels uncomfortable stepping into the bath with her.
She did propose it to him, though, because there is something softly tugging at her skin in a way she's unfamiliar with, and she would rather step out herself and demand answers than let him go without at least asking to join her—if only then, for the sole purpose of checking for any reckless injuries he may be hiding under his thick armour.
So she throws the idea out there, and with that, she turns in the water and goes back to the spot she had previously been occupying on the other side of the bath. She leans back on the wood, facing him, the water reaching the top of her neck now that her knees are bent under her. She focuses her eyes on Sasuke on the other side of the room, who meets her gaze without a second thought; who looks right back, as if challenging her due to a reason she does not possess.
Eventually, and unpredictably, he loses.
There's a small smile playing on her lips as he sighs and fully enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him as he had intended from the start.
He rids himself of his heavy armour and his undergarments, leaving him with nothing after he finishes dropping everything to the floor carelessly. She waits for him to pick each item one by one and fold everything like he's always done. So meticulous and clean and organised—so Sasuke.
Her husband is a very methodical man, always following familiar patterns and perfectioning his skills. She knows this part of him like the she knows the palm of her hand, which is why, as she hears the clothes drop one by one without a care and without follow-up, she knows something's wrong.
She follows him with questioning eyes as he enters and sits opposite to her on the bath, plenty of room in between them.
"You didn't need to do this."
"You clearly have not seen yourself, then."
An unimpressed look is all she gets from that, and she gives a small, satisfied smile as she closes her eyes against the wooden structure. Her entire body relaxes, even when her husband is probably staring at her from the other side of the barrel.
At least, she rationalises, her husband is not injured in any visible, large place on his body. She had followed his movements as he entered the bath, running her medically trained eyes from top to bottom for any abnormalities or open wounds, but found none.
Still, that doesn't guarantee there aren't any small gashes on his pale skin that she couldn't possibly catch from such a distance in the dark.
That also doesn't guarantee he hasn't somehow murdered someone.
Sakura counts to ten and then backwards, slowly reciting the numbers in her head one by one. She counts as the seconds pass, hoping that, by the time she opens her eyes and fixes her gaze on his own, she will be able to ask him what she's been worried about ever since he stepped foot in the bathroom; the reason why she tried to convince him to step into the bath with her in the first place.
In the end, she speaks with her eyes closed and head thrown back, feigning nonchalance and uninterest.
"Will you tell me now, husband?"
Sasuke's head moves down from its comfortable position, mimicking her own, and looks at her in silence.
"What must you know?"
"I would like to know," she pauses, swallowing in the process. "Why there is blood on your armour."
Sasuke answers faster than she had thought.
"It is not my blood."
"Whose, then?"
She gives him a few seconds, but when all she receives is silence, she moves her head down and looks at him, who then looks at her, who shifts in the water uncomfortably.
"The blood," she re-states. "To whom does it belong?"
"Not," he pauses, frowning at her insistence. "Me."
"If you won't tell me, I'll have no choice but to think you are lying, and are in fact injured."
He challenges her for the second time in the night with his eyes. Yet, he loses once more.
"Then, come see for yourself."
Sakura doesn't hesitate to shift in the water and move closer to him, knees almost bumping into his by the end of her sudden movement.
She can see he's surprised, and probably hadn't expected her to actually do as told when he had dared her, much less with such a quick reaction time. She can see the way he frowns, then releases a short gasp when there is nothing but her in his direct line of sight.
"Sakura-"
"What have you done to your face? Look at this," she exclaims, leaning in and holding his face in her hands. She touches an already-healing, superficial cut below his eye, and a shallow gash that runs from his jaw to the side of his left cheek. She runs her fingers over the superficial scab, knowing that it will eventually heal with no problem, but still mourning the feeling of something so alike what war would bring him if things are to escalate any further.
Which they are, if someone was able to land two cuts so long and precise on Sasuke's face, which should be impossible anyway due to his helmet's protection.
She makes a face and makes a move to stand.
"Let's step outside so I can get my supplies and heal you. Your face is probably the least of your problems, I pressume."
And when she raises her upper torso from the water, Sasuke tries his hardest, hardest to not look anywhere below her neck.
He grabs her hand and pulls her back down with a little more force than necessary when he notices she's going to stand up altogether and get out of the bath.
"Nothing hurts. I'm fine."
Sakura looks down at him in surprise, and slowly lowers herself down until there is no skin visible below her clavicles.
"But your-"
"They're just scratches, and nothing more," he tells her.
But when she makes a face and her shoulders dip below the water's surface, he sighs and runs a wet hand through his hair.
"I went outside Konoha's perimeter to check on the guards stationed there, but five were dead when I got there," he hears her gasp more than sees her, but continues soon thereafter. "Three of my soldiers appeared out of nowhere and attacked me next, then, and I had no choice but to kill them."
"I...," she starts, speaking slowly as she tries to understand his story. "They attacked you, then. With what purpose?"
"With the intent to kill, of course."
"Of course, but at what cost? No one had so openly defied you as such before that, which can be cause for concern."
She gives him a look, and he's unable to withstand it. There is fear, pain, worry, and anxiousness for what could be in store for the country and for them if there are soldiers in his army rebelling against him already. For the first time, Sakura really, truly considers this may be the starting signs of a war. First, there were rumours of it. But now? Now there's proof.
"I will handle it," he assures her, and she can only do so much as simply nod. The words may seem like an empty promise, but he has been able to handle everything on his own so far, so she trusts he will do the same now.
There's a moment where it's only quiet, and they stare at each other with the faint sound of the water moving below them to accompany whatever it is that they're in.
It's a rainy sky on their bare backs, the pressure of the truth pressing on them until neither of them can breathe properly. It's the knowledge they should not do anything about it, but the inability to stand still for too long. It's the knowledge of the real possibility of a war now, with hard proof, but the inability to stop it from happening. It's them, an arm's length apart, legs brushing, directly facing each other as they crave something they don't know is even there.
Sakura can't stand it, so she's the one who breaks the tension first.
"I know you will, Sasuke-kun," she breathes, not seeing the way something flashes across his gaze at the familiar name she lets slip out. "And I know you're not really injured. I just worry, that's all."
She shrugs her shoulders and moves a hand down her hair to rid herself of stray petals that have weaved themselves into her locks.
Sasuke doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't. He merely watches as she misses a few petals here and there with her dainty fingers, but doesn't make the effort to get them out for her. He forces himself, really, to not be tempted to do so. Lately, anything that involves touching Sakura seems very much out of hand for him, but this he can't lose control of. Not today, like this, when he's tired, his entire body aches, and he's in a bath with his wife looking at him with a small, amused smile.
"The water's turning cold already," she states, but he barely understands what she's saying. "Would you like me to wash you like last time? Or I can just leave, if you'd prefer."
He doesn't quite catch that either, which is probably why he gives her a confused look as she interprets his silence for an affirmative to what she had asked. And, just like the last time they had shared a bath so many years ago, she grabs the soap and moves to his side, without touching him, other than the scented bar of soap she moves along his shoulders.
Just like the last time they had shared a bath, her eyes are detached from her feelings, and instead are concentrated on moving the bar against his skin, marred with dirt, mud, sweat, and traces of dried blood.
Unlike the first time they had shared a bath, everything feels different, in some way or form, and Sasuke can do nothing to stop the pull he feels toward the woman next to him. It's gravitational, tilting his own axis, shifting his moral compass, and shattering any hopes he had had about keeping his composure.
In the darkest of moments, the real, rawest moments, the impulsive side of him threatens to come out.
Sakura may seem concentrated in her task as she moves her hand across his chest, but he notices the way she bites her lower lip, hard. From this distance, he sees the slight, almost ghostly shake to her arm. He shouldn't, but he lowers his gaze and makes out the subtle start of her breasts; which, from time to time as she adjusts her body around him, surface from the water, always only for a split second before hiding below again.
He shouldn't, but he hasn't felt her in so, so long. He hasn't had her in his arms, hasn't watched her ride him with patience and hesitancy, and hasn't driven into her with drunken abandon in so long. He hasn't touched her where only a husband should in long, and yet, as he forces himself to look away for the nth time, he knows he shouldn't have to entertain the thought in any case.
He could push her away, stand, and exit the bathroom. He should have paid attention and denied the bath; although customary for wives, he should have known better than to accept her kind request tonight, of all nights. He should have never gone inside the bath with her in the first place. He should have never accepted to join her.
But her face is so so close, and she looks so beautiful up close, with her damp hair around her like a curtain, her pale skin glistening with the red-coloured water, and her soft fingers moving along his skin with feigned confidence.
She raises herself up on her knees to wash his long hair, moving her fingers through his scalp with the scented oils the bath has provided her with. She's closer now, her flat stomach in his direct line of vision, taunting him for what he can't and shouldn't do.
Sasuke's entranced; lost, when he notices a small flower stuck to the delicate skin over her ribcage. And, without much thought, he takes it off, watching as he has made a mistake when the warm palm of his hand brushes her cold skin and she gives a small jump at the action.
He drops his hand under the water, lest he touches something else of hers, only to make yet another mistake.
And this is how they fall. The cataclysm that breaks them both; ravages and devastates the fragile string that used to hold them apart. The catastrophe that ruins them for the rest of their lives, but in less than ten seconds, and in that moment, rebuilds what had been broken for so long.
For, in that moment, he looks up at her face, into her hooded, restrained stare, and he knows she's holding back. He knows she wants what he wants, but will only follow if he pushes through first.
He has dictated the rules and he has told her clearly, and yet in the dimness of the bathroom at such a late hour, and with nothing but a few candles to reflect her glistening, soft body to him, he wishes he could take all his hurtful words back. For a second as she stops her hands from moving through his hair, he's driven solely by the look of utter want she gives him; of pure, raw desire.
And when he grabs her wrist in his grasp and she drops the soap under the water, she expects him to move her hand away. But he doesn't. If only, he brings her closer, places her hand on his chest further, and moves his own up the length of her arm and into the mess of her long hair. It's all she needs to move down, erase the remaining space between them, and join their lips for the first time.
If Sasuke's caught by surprise, he doesn't show it. His lips move against hers the same way he moves as he trains, like he's dancing, like it's an art, and soon they move as if it's a battle he needs to conquer. Tongues touching and teeth clashing from time to time at the inexperience, what they lack in this field they make up with the suffocating rush of adrenaline flowing through their veins.
Sakura parts for a second before she clashes her lips against his again, and he takes the few times in between her kisses to notice she has moved her legs to either side of his, straddling him but standing on her knees all the same.
He moves his unoccupied hand down her slender back, reaching her bottom and squeezing gently, drowning her gasp in his mouth. And then, as if possessed by something greater than him, he's touching everywhere with both hands, relishing in the feeling of her soft skin, soft hands and softer mewls.
Sasuke moves his hands against her sides, her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, and pulls on the short hairs at her nape as time allows him to.
And somewhere in the mess of pants and gasps that they have created, Sasuke kisses her neck, up her jaw, pulls her in for another kiss, and realises that there's no desperation in their movements anymore. The kiss has turned slow, and his hands are not frantically moving down her sides or her back, but moving slowly down her front. Down the swell of her small breasts and the expanse of her lower abdomen, down until he feels her jump in his grasp and hears her moan in his ear.
They both still, tensing up at the sound and the reaction ellicited from her due to his touch.
After a few seconds, he repeats the action with a newfound frown deepening his features, opening her folds and moving his fingers against something that is making her completely, utterly lose her mind. He ends the kiss in order to look into her face for answers, but she drops her forehead on his shoulder as soon as the only support that was holding her up is gone from under her, and he's left to feel her squirm and shake atop him every time he brushes the tips of his fingers against her in the same pattern.
After a while, and in between pants and mewls of pleasure, she moans his name softly, and he can only do so much as drop his head back onto the barrel's edge, helpless and only able to groan low at the small sounds she makes with every stroke of his fingers. He moves them faster when she tells him, slowly as soon as she says the word, harder when she starts moving her hips in tempo; he does everything she tells him to if only to catch every one of her moans and soft touches on his scorching hot skin, savouring the feeling of having her flushed against him, arms around his shoulders or down on his chest. He feels her every tremble, her desperation as she rolls her hips faster against his hand, and watches as she snaps in the quiet of their bathroom, the water long cold and forgotten around them.
She cries out in the juncture between his shoulder and neck, holding on to his nape and pulling on the roots of his hair as she stills completely, spasming against his chest like she's never done before.
He wonders if he's made her see the stars just like she did last time to him, but he doesn't have to wonder much when she lifts her head from his shoulder and takes his face in her shaking hands, simply kissing him after making her quiver over the type of pleasure that he had never given her before.
Sasuke responds, but he stops her when she listlessly reaches down the water to what stands erect between his legs.
"Stop," he commands, holding down her other hand when she makes a move with that one. "Not this. We can't do this."
Sakura gives him an amused smile, shaking out of his clutch as easily as she had imagined it would be.
"Touching you is not going to impregnate me any time soon, my lord."
Sasuke only gives her a conflicted look, not knowing if he will restrain himself once he lets her do as she pleases with him; speaking from experience, he wasn't able to control himself the last time she had decided to touch him so freely.
"Sasuke-kun, relax," she reassures him, and grabs him, watching as he grinds his teeth together and moves a hand down his face once she starts moving her hand. "Let me return the favour, yes?"
Sasuke lets her, but for the entirety of it all, he wants to grab her hips and feel himself inside her, not in between the palms of her hands. It takes him an immeasurable amount of self-restraint to stop himself from following his more primal urges, ones he wishes he didn't have.
And as it is, with this ethereal woman touching him like this while she places kisses all over his face, his lips, his neck, and his chest, it proves to be almost impossible.
Someone is testing him as she moves him expertly; someone who wants to see him suffer and twist and turn, unable to damn everything he has said and plunge deep within his infuriatingly annoying wife.
He watches her as she pleasures him beneath the water's surface, sometimes closing his eyes and sometimes moving his hands over her slender body, but reaching his peak all the same in the matter of minutes.
There's no shame as he comes down from the high she has given him, just like there was no shame as she came down from her own. He looks at her and she looks at him, and it's like something between them has shifted, rotated into something else; something more. She leans forward with a little smile he wants to see more of, and he doesn't hesitate to meet her halfway.