A/N: Yikes so much for a month...Sorry about the massive delay. The part I was having trouble with still isn't exactly to my liking but I figured published is better than perfection. I may go back and edit if its really bothering me but I know the better focus of energy is progressing the story.

Thank you to both old readers and new readers alike. I saw a few comments about people learning from the story from their mutuals on Twitter. It was a bit surreal to be reminded that every review is attached to a real person and some of those people are discussing this fic outside of this space. Sometimes I forget I'm not just writing into the void lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy. I won't make promises about the next update but I'm going to try and get some writing done in this bit of free time I have right now.

Chapter 17

Four days past her return, Sakura woke up easily, without a start, without quickened breathing. She stretched, allowing the release of tension to roll through her body. Beginning with her legs, she extended them into points underneath the sheet before following the sensation up and through her hips, into her chest and then finally up her arms to the fingertips. She released with an exhale, sinking back into the plushness of the bed. The day began to rise as well, streaks of peachy gold along the horizon slowly reaching their way up through the sky. Sakura adjusted her position slightly to watch the sun's ascent between the sheer curtains stirring lightly in the last remnants of the summer night breeze. The village would begin to awaken soon and the creaking of wheels, the unlatching of shutters, and the low hums of early passersby would filter through her open window, filling her room with sounds to tell her that a new day had come. But she would lay there a bit longer, waiting for the final sound that announced the morning's arrival.

The chill of those first few days had faded, or at least had weakened enough to manage. Any haunting thoughts that lingered were sporadic, mostly gnawing at her early enough in her slumber for her to shake off the dream and return to sleep without feeling unrested in the morning. Overall, she was improving at a rate that she believed she owed to mindfulness exercises, consistent time in the sun, and the unexpected comfort of Uchiha Sasuke's company.

That first night back from the mission, after she had gathered a semblance of composure, he had accompanied her home. Thankfully, he had said nothing as they walked because she was certain any attempted response would carry an undertone of hysteria. The fear of sleep, of closing her eyes and giving herself over to the turmoil in her unconsciousness, loomed largely in her mind and would spill into her words, given the chance. So although every thought in her head shrieked against the idea of being alone in an empty apartment, she stayed silent, hoping he wouldn't glean the wish she wouldn't speak aloud. She had already taken his day, making him spend hours doing nothing but sitting beside her. She wouldn't ask for more of his time.

Sakura's efforts, in the end, were futile. She wasn't sure exactly what had tipped him off, what expression or gesture had revealed her inner anguish. Perhaps there had been a nervousness in the way she fumbled with the keys or maybe she had turned the knob with a slow reluctance–some small movement that caused him to watch her seriously as she turned to say goodnight. His grave stare felt like an assessment.

When he spoke, he was firm. "Sakura, I can stay if you need me too."

Although he had already surmised the unspoken request that she was too ashamed to voice, Sakura, fueled by guilt of monopolizing his time, immediately rejected the suggestion. "It's ok Sasuke, really. It's already so late and you've been with me all day. I can manage."

"Would it help you if I stay?"

What could she say in response to his question, deliberately worded as it was? Because it would help, at least somewhat. So although her throat had thickened so her words could not find a way out, he had been able to see the answer in her eyes and wordlessly entered the apartment, settling into the recliner as he waited for her to burrow beneath the blankets she had left strewn across the couch earlier that day. For his comfort, she left the TV on to murmur quietly in the background as a respite from boredom. For her comfort, she left the hall light on to cast a dim glow in the room as a respite from the darkness.

It hadn't been a restful night, as she found herself constantly being pulled from a dream by a racing heart. Often Sasuke would wake with her if he wasn't awake already, bringing a cup of water from the kitchen and sitting close to her until the tremors stilled.

Once the sun rose, Sakura had been able to feel the way the tiredness hung behind her eyes. She had known, as she groggily muttered her appreciation to Sasuke before he left, that sleep would fall heavily enough upon her to keep her unconscious for some time. But by mid-afternoon, the exhaustion had been sated and she was wide awake, unable to rely on sleep to keep her distracted. She could feel the chill that had been lurking in her chest begin to stir, poised to spread. In response, she had thrown open every curtain, showered, and brewed a cup of tea that she mostly cradled against her chest, focusing on the warm ceramic and willing the heat to permeate through her while she tried to keep her thoughts light. After an hour of attempted mindfulness, just as she had begun to visualize the grief swelling up to swallow her, two sharp knocks on the door had pulled her away. And there stood Sasuke, with his shogi board and a small assorted dessert box that he had presented to her with a silent, ardent, decidedness.

He never seemed completely at ease that evening. He had held himself in a more rigid way, sitting straighter and stiffer than the relaxed posture Sakura was used to from the nights on his balcony. Being friendly did not come easily to him but she could see him trying, finding something to say when there was a silence that she wanted to fill but couldn't find the words. Awful as he was at small talk, he sifted through thoughts and selected something to discuss when he could see her hands tighten around the hem of her shirt or her eyes slip into a panic.

And in that way, their clunky sporadic comments carried them through the early evening hours until the unfolding of the shogi board on the small balcony table smoothed their attempts into conversation. Sakura found it was easier to figure out what she wanted to say when part of her mind was occupied with analyzing the board. There was a comfort in the focus required for the game. The ability to be rational and contemplate decisions felt like an affirmation to herself, a reassurance that she held control over her body, not the other way around. With this bit of confidence, she began telling Sasuke the details of the mission, believing that she could control her thoughts as well if she spoke them aloud. She finished her abbreviated retelling just as Sasuke moved his final piece to win the game.

"I don't know why it hit me so hard." Sakura wrapped her arms around her legs, staring at the game pieces rather than his face. "I was a shinobi before I was a medic so I knew, at least in theory, that having to defend myself on this mission was a possibility. I guess it's just been too long since I've actually had to do it." Her words trailed off into a silence that seemed to be filled with her shame. Shame from being so affected by one mission. Shame from how unnatural being a shinobi had become. Shame from her own perceived weakness.

"Healing is more familiar to you now than harm. Acting against your nature can be jarring."

"So basically, I've gotten soft." Sakura scoffed humorlessly. "Maybe I should've spent more time mentally toughening up instead of doing the physical training."

"I don't think anyone who knows you would call you soft. Naruto's more afraid of you than anyone he's fought against." When his light teasing failed to sway her, Sasuke continued. "Taking a life is not a measure of strength. Seeing the value in life is your strength. That's why you work so hard to treat others."

"Seeing the value in life? I just killed three people: what does that say about how much I 'value life'? Had I been thinking like someone who actually values life, I would've chosen a way to incapacitate them non-lethally. All the genjutsu I know, all the emergency immobilization techniques I studied: I could've used any of that! What kind of healer am I?"

She sat straight in her chair, looking directly at him, waiting for him to speak. He stared back, unswayed by the challenge to respond to a question that she had already decided she knew the answer to. He spoke deliberately, sure in each word.

"You have many roles. In that moment, you were not simply a medic; you were also a shinobi. Sorting through the more humane options may have caused you to hesitate or falter. You instinctively chose the option that allowed for you to be here right now, unharmed, because of it."

"And somewhere, there are others who will never be with their friends again. They feel loss too. Those people didn't have to die."

"It happens." Sasuke replied, leaning back into the iron balcony chair and perusing the rooftops as if nothing bothered him at all. But she knew how untrue that was. She knew his eyes seemed aloof but had seen horrors. She knew he had trained his hands to hang loosely years ago after she had once noticed the way he always kept them clenched. She knew he leaned into his chair because that's the way people sat when they were relaxed and not burdened by dark memories that hunched their shoulders.

He seemed at ease only because he willed himself that way.

Sakura watched him, wondering how many lives he'd taken that he could not dwell on, what unpleasant details he had blocked from his memory for the sake of normalcy and peace.

"How do I–just accept it? I mean, when I'm too quiet, I can hear the sounds of their final moments. I could hear the distress in each breath they took and any other day, those sounds would mean 'go help that person'. But I just listened to them die...I feel so guilty and then there's a different level of guilt I feel because a shinobi shouldn't feel bad for completing a mission that helped their village, right?"

"Shinobi life is complex and complicated. Dissecting existential questions brings no peace."

He met her eyes and she knew he was right. Dwelling on it would only prolong the pain. He would know–better than anyone. She sighed and as if he recognized the reluctant surrender in her tone, he reset the shogi board for a new game. He gave her a small, sympathetic smile when she moved her first piece forward.

By the third game, nighttime had settled into the village and the dim cast of light through the balcony door was too weak to allow for continuous gameplay. As they packed up the board, Sakura talked continuously in an attempt to drown out the part of her mind already imagining how the night might go. Better, she hoped, but still rough. And because she was speaking freely, she had hardly noticed the question slip into her rambling until her body cringed slightly in reaction.

"Will you come tomorrow?"

But before she could think of something to say to seem less pestering and require less of his time, he nodded.

Now he came to check on her each morning. And because he was still determined to try to fill her silences when they came, he arrived a little less stoic, a little more talkative. And in that way, she was learning more about Sasuke than perhaps she had realized there was to know. It seemed he had become surprisingly observant, perhaps an effect of his mission hypervigilance permeating into his regular life, and he was able to describe or recall a great deal of the minutiae in his day. Which roads were being mended, which businesses were closing, which book most people were reading.

Each seemingly mundane, small talk morsel was only a portion of a larger revelation. It felt like some sort of unveiling, a discovery of some inert part of his thoughts that he usually never allowed others to access. He would offhandedly drop surprising tidbits that would reveal the key to that hidden place, if Sakura asked the right questions. Like when she wondered aloud what caused her plant to wither and he had told her how to treat it. With a few questions, she had learned that his immediate apartment neighbor kept a similar plant on the shared ledge between their balconies but the plant suffered for the neighbor's forgetfulness. He had taken to watering the plant himself until its condition worsened. After some time, he learned that filling the central cup formed by the leaves was all the water the plant needed.

Sakura learned that he had recently changed bakeries because the woman who usually baked the bread he preferred had had a child and the owner of the shop could not recreate the texture of her loaves. The woman had been trying to conceive for months, taking on each wive's tale method of increasing her chances: drinking an herbal tea that made her wince each time she sipped, wrapping her feet in thick socks despite the sweltering temperatures beside the oven, wearing a blessed charm around her neck, collecting different baubles and symbols of luck that began to line the counter. He hardly believed in any of it but he had given her a small charm to add to her collection after an old woman insisted he take it for helping her down the stairs in their apartment building.

An impromptu comment about the academy revealed that they were adding a new suite of classrooms to the building. Upon further questioning, Sakura had learned that Sasuke had accompanied Naruto to the academy–or rather, Naruto had unexpectedly requested that they make a pit stop on their way to the training grounds–and as he waited for Naruto to finish with Iruka, he had roamed the building and seen the construction of the new suite. It wasn't far from the library which he had entered briefly to avoid the masses of children that were beginning to fill the halls as classes were released. The school's small collection of books were arranged the same way as they had been over 10 years ago. Upon perusing, he had found an old guide about chakra that he remembered reading after Team 7's first mission to the Land of Waves. Kakashi's comment about Sakura's control and Naruto's unexplained strength had bothered him enough that he had combed through the book, looking for some sort of explanation to the skill discrepancy. Midway through reading, he had recognized how the feeling of being behind was not unlike the inadequacy fear that had always hovered over him while Itachi excelled and that thought had been enough for him to leave the library altogether. There was still a crease where he had folded the corner of the page years ago, intending to return once the anger had simmered which it seemed, never did.

His mention of the price of flour revealed eventually that he was teaching himself how to make udon noodles, among a few other dishes. He had overworked the dough of the first batch and underworked the second. The third batch was okay but the consistency was off. Once he was confident in the noodles, he would begin trying different broths. Eventually, he hoped that he would be able to recreate a broth that his mother used to make often. He found that he could recall at least a few of the seasonings through visual memory alone. His mother had kept the kitchen very orderly and the alphabetized spice rack was directly in view from his designated sitting spot. The spot was established during a time in early childhood when being in a room separate from his mother was intolerable so she had kept a small stool in the corner for him to occupy when he wanted to be beside her. Even later, when he grew older and most of his time was spent outside rather than in the house, his sitting stool remained there, like a quiet invitation. Sometimes, when he would sit in it for a moment as he took a drink or talked about his day at the academy, his mother would smile to herself.

In her fascination, Sakura would hardly notice the time until most of the morning had passed by which point, she felt the need to move around and run errands. And as she slipped on her shoes, asking her next question, he would stay to answer. And he stayed with her as she hung her laundry on one of the clotheslines on the building's rooftop and then still when she went to the market to replenish her groceries. Eventually, he would remember an errand of his own to complete and when he visited the mailing office to pick up his mail or stopped by the administrative building to sign paperwork, she in turn stayed with him. It continued on this way until she would look up and notice the return of the evening sky, gold blending into the deep blue. They would part for the night and in the morning, he was there again, like the sun bringing forth the day.

From her bed, Sakura heard two sharp knocks against her apartment door. She stood, now that the morning had finally arrived.

For once, time wasn't the foremost thing on Sasuke's mind. For once, going about his day didn't feel like bits of busywork that bridged each hour to the next. For once, being in the village did not seem like a tedious countdown to his next mission.

He wasn't aware of the time at all, sitting on the wooden stump by the edge of the training grounds, listening to Sakura energetically explain a theory of how he might improve the technique he was working on. Soon after she returned from her mission, Sakura had notified her hospital staff that she would be taking some time off, using the stockpile of vacation hours she rarely touched. And in an effort to be around in case she needed it, he had unofficially extended his obligatory rest period. However, Sakura hardly seemed to need anything now. It had been five days since her return and for all intents and purposes, she was fine: sleeping normally, present in conversations, and not falling into memories. She was a shinobi after all, and recovering from unsettling experiences was ingrained in her more than she realized. It was something they had all learned unconsciously as genin and had refined by the time they were jounins. It was a necessity.

Nearing complete recovery, Sakura's time off was now just leisure time, the first she had had in a while. And unintentionally, Sasuke had become her companion as she enjoyed these unrestricted days. Perhaps it was the peace she exuded without the responsibilities of the hospital hovering above her or maybe it was the new slower pace of their days, but Sasuke found himself relaxed as well, in no rush to take on a new mission, no longer finely attuned to the grueling way time seemed to crawl whenever he was in the village.

Inspired by her theorizing, Sakura was gesturing, sculpting limbs and sinews only visible to her from the air. It seemed that she was hypothesizing as she went and he nearly chuckled watching her face and hands trying to keep up with her quickly jumping thoughts. But even in her wild gesticulating, there was a lively grace in the way her hands moved–curved to clenched to stretched. He had forgotten that about her.

Sakura was different in more ways than he realized. She was bold at times when she hadn't been before and quiet at times when she used to argue. And there was a serenity in her that hadn't been there before, more stillness in moments when she would have been energetic or talkative. Sometimes they would sit together, not speaking at all, but the silence felt natural and comfortable. At times she could be guarded with her reactions or contemplative, seen in the way she sometimes paused to carefully phrase her words. Their brief, periodic meetings and run-ins of the past few months hadn't revealed these subtle changes. But with this extended time together, he could see that there was a new richness to her, one lying beneath her outward self which, at first glance, mostly seemed unchanged. He felt compelled to know what influenced her. All the traits he took at face value as part of who she was–kind, altruistic, passionate–seemed to come from different motivations than he expected. Where he had assumed emotion, logic often influenced her decisions. Such as her habit of picking up glass bottle pieces from the riverbank whenever they passed by–not simply because she was kind, but because the hospital had seen a 30% increase in foot injuries in the past few months, particularly with children. Or the day she purchased dozens of sachets of flower seeds to distribute to friends and acquaintances throughout the village. Not just for the benefit of their flowerbeds, as she later explained, but because the specific selection of flowers–native pollinator plants–would support the village bee colonies. They were not just nice actions, they were the actions that made sense, that were moral.

Somehow, it felt as if he was reconnecting with a friend from the past, one he hadn't seen in years.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes." Sasuke could tell his response was less than convincing by the way she was studying him.

"Well what did I say?"

"You said that using masking chakra at high rates can be dangerous."

"I said more than that."

He smirked. "I was paraphrasing." Before she could respond, Sasuke quickly pivoted. "You didn't finish explaining the most efficient pathway for rerouting chakra."

Sakura's eyes narrowed. "I know what you're doing."

"I'm interested."

She rolled her eyes and turned over his hand to trace the map work of veins in his forearm. He concentrated on her words this time, hardly registering the way her fingertips glided lightly over his skin, leaving warm trails in their wake.

Those two were always walking together.

Some wondered where they headed, if there was somewhere they were supposed to be. They never seemed hurried if so. Their pace was leisurely, their steps lacked urgency. Which was odd for Sakura who was either rushing around the hospital or rushing to it and uncharacteristic of Sasuke who moved quickly enough to remove himself from the crowds.

Now, they strolled between village shops and kiosks or followed the curve of the riverbank or traversed the trails in memorial park. Sometimes they would settle on a bench or against a bridge railing or in a restaurant booth. Sometimes with Naruto or another friend who took a few minutes to join them.

But always together.

Today they lounged beneath a tree, taking refuge from the afternoon sun.

"So I found that if I drop a letter off as soon as the post office opens, it'll get processed faster and on Wednesday's they have two shipments instead of just the one at the end of the day. Given that, I've been able to cut nearly 12 hours of travel time off the normal time. Which means my last letter should've gotten there three days ago. And if Hiroshi responded to it that day and sent it out the next, then his letter should get to the post office sometime today, meaning it'll be in my mailbox by tomorrow morning. But I'm pretty sure if I go to pick up my mail directly from the post office, I could probably get it today…" Sakura paused when she saw Sasuke's raised eyebrow, and recounted her words to herself. "I sound kind of crazy don't I?"

"I would say overzealous."

"A month is just so much longer than I thought it would be and with delays, it's looking like it'll be five weeks." She flopped back onto the ground with a groan. "I know I should try and be more patient–or at least as patient as he's been through all this. He doesn't even say anything about how long my letters are. This last one was five pages."

"Five?"

Sakura laughed at his incredulous expression. "There's a lot to share! Plus I have to take time to respond to what he said in his letter and ask followup questions which really takes a good page or so."

"Will there be anything left to share when he returns?"

"Of course there will. I emit a lot just to get it down to the five. A good letter has good content Sasuke!"

"Enough content to be a short story it seems."

Sakura scowled, then laughed. "Okay it may be a bit much but he hasn't complained at all. He's too good-natured."

"Or knows better than to upset you."

"No! He really is. I gravitate toward good-natured people." She tapped her head. "I've got a sixth sense."

Sasuke looked over at her pointedly and she seemed confused by his silence. "What?"

"Wouldn't I be the wrench in your theory?"

"You think you're bad natured?"

"Aren't I?"

Sakura shook her head, as if the question required no thought at all. "Hardly. You've never truly been a bad guy, even stretching back to academy days. Surly maybe, a little curt with words sometimes. Definitely aloof and at times sad, but you weren't mean or intentionally unkind." She paused, tentative, as if she was gauging the air. "Even when things started changing with us, later on, I believed you were still the good guy, underneath everything else." Anticipating his reaction, she intentionally kept the tone light enough to allow for a quick pivot to a new topic. She glanced at him, preparing to change course.

Sasuke gazed back, feeling less resistance to the thought of talking about the past than he had that night weeks ago. He could feel the discomfort, how his body resisted it. But he wouldn't evade it, he would face it. "Perhaps that was the mistake," he replied after a moment. "Assuming I was still 'the good guy'."

"Sometimes good people can make mistakes. It doesn't mean those mistakes have to redefine who they are."

He didn't look at her, though he could feel her eyes on him. He looked ahead, considering all of his mistakes, the sheer weight of them. How could they not reshape a person, heavy as they were? How could a person who did so many bad things not be considered a bad person? He paused in his musing as she spoke.

"I think we both made a mistake rushing in. Things may have been better if we had waited to move in together."

"No, you could have moved in after five years and it would've been the same."

"How do you know?"

"My motivations were wrong. I was chasing after some flawed desire to create a home."

"I don't think wanting a home is a flawed desire."

Sasuke shrugged, unconvinced. "Maybe not for others. But what did I really know about it? All I had were my childhood notions of a family so I attempted to recreate what I had known, what I had lost. My father made decisions and dictated the values of our home. I had always assumed my mother had been in agreement, but maybe, like Itachi and I, she did as she was told. Maybe we all followed the nature of things."

Sakura watched him reckoning silently with the memories his words had recalled and the new awareness his adult perspective placed on them. She spoke softly, sympathetically. "It makes sense that the Uchiha would be traditional."

"Yes, tradition and respect were at the foundation of our household. And root of everything was control."

"That couldn't be all. Wasn't there love? Happiness?"

"There was happiness, at least from my childhood perspective. My mother loved me, always. But I felt that my father loved me when I did what he wanted and did it well. That was the affection I received from him. And because it was controlled, that affection seemed more valuable." He paused, comparing his memories of his father against his own actions, the way he had used Sakura's love for him against her, pulling away when she disobeyed. "I took that with me: the way my father ran his house, how, and when, he showed affection. I didn't know any other way."

Absently, Sasuke picked at the grass and Sakura watched his fingers in the silence. In her mind, she could visualize it, the young boy striving for a glimmer of affection from his distant father. Once he received it, that small offering after toiling so, what the young boy must have felt more than love was success, a sense of victory from receiving the deserved earnings for working so hard. And then, before the boy became old enough to realize that love should not be transactional, he lost everything and lived a life ruled by anger and revenge for years. She looked upwards, studying the stillness of his face looking out at nothing in particular. What a feat, she thought as the familiar sadness grew in her chest as she watched Sasuke, to be able to find insight amidst all the pain.

"Perhaps you didn't know any other way initially, but you learned other ways quickly. You should give yourself more credit. Don't you remember how it was early on? You learned to be affectionate in your own way."

"Only to dismantle it all as time went on. By the last year, it was as if the initial year had never existed at all."

"But it did exist. And I think it's important to remember that it did, so that you know you have the capacity for that affection. You're not only repeating the patterns you grew up around."

Her words seemed to sit in the air between them before dissipating in the ensuing silence. They looked forward, unfocused, as their thoughts consumed their attention. For a few moments, they weaved between memories with new eyes.

"I wish I had said something once the relationship was becoming something different…" Sakura wondered if they were reaching the limit as she waited for Sasuke to look at her, to break his stillness. Maybe when he did speak, his next words would be to end the conversation. She gazed instead at her hands, rather than his unmoving form. "Maybe it would've led to a less contentious separation earlier on–"

"I wouldn't have wanted to separate." His words were abrupt but he said nothing more, though he could feel her eyes on his face, waiting for elaboration. Eventually, he continued. "We would not have come to that decision mutually. Being apart wasn't ever something that crossed my mind."

"You, who at 12 years old was so caught up with breaking bonds?"

Sasuke nearly smirked at her teasing. "You changed me in that way. You made me believe that there could be some permanence in my life. Once the image was there, a stable family, an Uchiha family, became the goal. And I thought everything I did was ultimately to the benefit of us as a family. That's what made it more cruel." He turned his gaze towards the far edge of the park, not truly seeing anything, only wishing to keep the images he remembered separate from this Sakura that sat beside him–healthy and whole. "When I would pull away and be distant and give you the notion that I was leaving, it was all because I knew that's what you feared: that I would leave. When in reality, it was the very last thing on my mind."

"You really never thought it could happen?"

"Until that moment when you said that we were over, it was an impossibility."

Sakura followed his eyeline, watching the children chase each other around the tree trunks. She could remember the conversations they had had about their future: marriage and children. They used to speak with such certainty and assuredness. The memory of that assuredness had sustained her, far longer than it should have. Sasuke and Sakura: the inseparable unit.

"That's how I used to think too. The reality only really hit me when I found…physical representation of what part of me already knew." Through the corner of her eyes, she could see him stiffen slightly in reaction. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I never found it. I'd like to think that I would have hit a point where I finally recognized that things weren't working. But I don't know for sure if I would have. Looking back, I can point out dozens of times when I should have left or at the very least said something. But I never did. I feared separation too much to actually differentiate what was best for me from what I wanted. And what I wanted was you, even the minimal you gave me. So I probably would've stayed." She turned back to him in time to see his face fold with regret and it made her think of her own. "I shouldn't have been so quiet–"

"You weren't at fault Sakura."

"I have some fault. After the fighting stopped, I never said anything, I never even tried."

"That doesn't matter. My behavior was wrong. I chose how I responded to the situation and independent of everything else, I could have chosen to behave differently and not treat you so–" The shame roiled within him uncomfortably. He could stop the conversation, change the subject. the feelings would subside back to their manageable size. But they would still remain, whether he faced it or not. He turned to her, watching her face as he spoke now. "How I treated you was shameful. I manipulated your emotions. You said it yourself when you returned in August: you sacrificed parts of yourself so that I would show you affection. And even when you gave me the control I sought, I wasn't satisfied." He scowled at the memory of himself. "The guilt of changing you into a ghost of yourself manifested as anger and I lashed out. I think about the things I said, how horribly I would speak to you, knowing you wouldn't respond, wouldn't defend yourself." The memories whirled endlessly in his mind, and he thought of Sakura's earlier opinion that he had never been bad-natured. What sort of good person would do this to the one person who had given him everything?

He wondered what she saw in his face that persuaded her to reach over to him. Studying her comforting touch on his hand, he continued, quietly. "For how I behaved, I deserve far more scorn than I've received."

"You do not 'deserve scorn' Sasuke. I wish you wouldnt beat yourself up–"

"I don't think that's what this is, Sakura. I know wallowing. How I behaved was wrong and I have to atone."

"Fine, but then what does atonement look like? Because knowing you, that could easily be warped into something else. You tend to lean towards the dramatic."

He scoffed lightly at her goading. "I think atonement is perspective. It's looking at what I've done from all sides and confronting it."

"And it seems like you've been doing that. So when do you progress past it? When does forgiveness come?"

"When my transgressions feel less palpable. The past doesn't seem so far away."

Sakura reached for his other hand and waited for him to turn his attention to her. She watched him earnestly as she spoke, willing him to listen to her words. "Listen to me, Sasuke. It's important to acknowledge the past and learn from it, but we can't keep living in it. Holding on to guilt would be just the same as if I hung on to anger. If every time I looked at you, I dredged up the pain of those last years and clung to those feelings, I would never have moved forward. I would be bitter and angry and stuck. That's not to say I've forgotten what's happened or that it's not completely painless. Some memories can still sting a bit. But I'm not holding on to the negative feelings. I'm letting time do what it has always done: heal."

Sakura stood, ready to change locations now that the sun's glare had lessened. He stood with her, pulled by the grasp she kept on him.

"We learn and we move forward."

They walked through the village, following a path shaped by Sakura's whims. A bookstore to the post office to the tailor to one of their frequented kiosks for a late lunch-early dinner. After a stop at the sweet shop for dessert, they stopped along the water's edge as Sakura enjoyed her treat. She placed her shoes by her bags and swung her feet over the concrete edge, skimming her toes across the water. Sasuke sat cross-legged beside her. They didn't speak, but the quiet was not uncomfortable and the sounds of the summer evening blended into a comforting hum.

"It's been good, hasn't it? Being friends again?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, I think so too."

They enjoyed the breeze, the light coolness slipping past their skin. The shadow of the swaying tree tops shimmered slightly against the grass, then stilled. Sakura swirled her feet in the water, remembering the way things used to be, the way silence used to stretch between them , the way it seemed to choke the life from her. Even when words were said–the pleasantries they exchanged when he would come home for the day, the passing comments about upcoming schedules or house maintenance or reminders–there was nothing at all behind them. Who could have imagined how things would change? That they could spend a day exchanging stories, speaking about neighbors and memories and thoughts. How different things were now.

"You know, I think that's what made the whole separation thing worse. Even after everything, I missed having you as my friend. And I suppose that's the risk you take when you date your friend: losing the original bond when the romantic relationship ends. But I never wanted that for us. We were friends before everything and we can be friends again."

"I'm not sure I was that good of a friend to miss."

"Regardless of your personal opinion, you were my friend and that's what mattered. Besides, you need all the friends you can get."

"That's why you convinced Naruto to start coming around?"

"I had to! I just didn't like the idea of you two feuding over something that I was accepting and moving past. You spent all those years apart and being enemies and whatnot, it just seemed like a waste of time and energy for him to hold a grudge. He was angry but I know he missed you and I knew you would miss him too, in your own way. And if he could forgive you for nearly killing him, I was sure he could move past this, with a little encouragement. And now you're both happy."

"Those few months were much quieter though…"

"And drab and sad and lonely! You need some liveliness around you otherwise you'd just start collecting dust from being stagnant!" Sakura finished her admonishment with a huff, folding her arms away once she noticed Sasuke's amusement at her wagging finger. "You should be grateful for my mediation skills!"

He smirked. "Thank you Sakura, for your meddling."

"Meddling?!"

Her playful shove was expected and he turned to her, ready for the scolding that usually followed. Instead, she was smiling at him.

"What?"

Sakura appraised him, appreciating the mirth in his eyes, how much more open and rested he seemed than he had months ago. She wished for the words to easily explain the joy she felt in this moment, the weightlessness surrounding her now that they had finally had this conversation and on the other side of it, she could see they would be fine. Great, even. "I'm just…I'm feeling grateful. This is what I've been waiting for, this feeling where we can talk about the past without all the eggshells and turmoil. And we can joke about it, like actual real life friends." Her sigh was laced with content, and relief and she looked upwards to watch the sky begin to change.

Sasuke looked up too, picking out the different colors blending behind the tree tops, the emerging edge of night existing in the same space as the golds of the day. He too felt grateful in these moments.

"You don't regret any of it?"

"I don't think so. I mean, it was difficult. But I feel like we're supposed to be together in a way. Since the academy, the nature of our relationship has changed so much. But through all those changes, we still managed to be here, having this conversation, together."

Their smiles were soft, their eyes focused on each other. Yes, together.

July days continued on and before long, the sight of the duo became commonplace, an expectation of the food stands they visited and the spots they frequented. Most villagers who noticed weren't intrigued: had there ever been a time when Sakura wasn't hauling those teammates of hers around town? Others were curious: they had heard the last Uchiha was a recluse; but wasn't he always out and about by the side of this bright eyed woman? Some villagers who stayed more abreast of village gossip speculated: what could it mean that these two were spending time together, despite their rumored, explosive, fiery end and despite a new romance for Sakura? Could this be the final step of her revenge: seduce him and break his heart like he broke hers?

Then there were those who saw without watching, saw what was brewing while the others did not.

It was as if they were one mind remembering a song, rediscovering the harmonies obscured by time. Their bodies followed a cadence in the way they moved together, shifting and adjusting towards each other until the polite arc of space given to friends dwindled. Their smiles seemed attuned in the way they appeared–in unison or one after the other like one foot following the other. And when one of them spoke, the intent in the other's eyes was genuine, patient and full attention.

But the silence showed it best. Like the day the Uchiha didn't speak at all and stood for hours beside a memorial. The older villagers remembered why, remembered waking up on that day years ago to shocked whispers in the streets. Those who were too young to know but had lived near the Uchiha district remembered the odd smell in the air that morning and the long lines of shinobi carrying shrouded stretchers, one after the other after the other. Seventeen years later, the sole survivor stood at the final memorial for his people. He hadn't gone in years, but perhaps something in his mind or something in his heart tugged him towards the past. Sakura was beside him, her own flowers laid. He sighed deeply, wearily, and she could hear the waver, that sorrow that never truly dissipated despite time, despite age. It only became better managed. Instinctually, she gave him her hand, the small comfort she could provide for the weight he shouldered, and his fingers had grasped tightly at the sign of life offered to him amongst the memories of death. They stood until mourning eased into remembering and the pull that had drawn him to this place so early finally lifted. He turned to her, his first few words for the day warming her face. They hardly noticed, as they began to find their voices again, that their joined hands still clung together, tightly woven between them.

It was those diligent villagers who could see these changes happening, slowly and surely as the days stretched into each other. In those moments of silence, as the pair lounged by the water's edge soaking in the sunlight or sat on the park bench watching the colors in the sky blend and shift, in those moments, they breathed together.

Let me know your thoughts! I still read every review (even the ones in different languages) so feel free to share! Until next time.