13. When his tears subsided and the emotions became….
When the tears subsided and the emotions became controllable again he stood slowly, his hand seeking support on the wall. He hesitated, the silence of the hallway deafening, causing a peep in his ears. When he finally laid his hand on the door handle, he realised he still had his sandals on. He removed them slowly, putting them underneath a few pegs on the wall with coathangers. He removed his armour and it fell with a heavy thud to the floor. He shoved it close to the shoes, uncertain if the pegs would be able to hold the weight. The happuri balanced precariously on top of the pile of metal; a lean silhouette against the empty wall.
He stood barefoot on the threshold of a place that was so close to home, to her, that he felt like he had not felt in years. More close to himself. Not the harsh Hokage, not senpai or sensei, not a grieving widower, not a broken lover. He felt like Tobirama and life seemed a tiny bit brighter.
Slowly he entered the living room. The house smelled faintly of her, notes of scent long forgotten but they jumped to life now, bright and overpowering and it threatened to release his emotions a second time. He forced himself into a business-like mode, checking his surroundings with a certain suspicious reserve. Scanning for traps or intruders. But it was empty, no traps except for the ones at the windows. He had forgotten that she grew up in peaceful times, no need for excessive security.
The house was minimally decorated, a typical ninja trait, since shinobi do not frequent their home as much as civilians. White walls, a coconut fibre carpet underneath a low wooden table with two grey cushions. A single bookshelf with a few books, a woodblock print of two samurai fighting. The long side of the room was made of glass sliding doors that showed a wooden terrace without a fence, which made a clear vista over Konoha possible.
Next to a door that led further into the house, the metal shine of weapons on the wall, as neatly stacked as his own, a few of them missing. He fingered them while peering into a small wooden box hanging underneath that contained maintenance materials. He smiled thinking of his own quarters. She never showed any displeasure at the spartan interior or weapons hanging next to their bed. He had wondered about that, he expected an infiltration of womanly decorative items, but with Sakura this never happened. He never questioned her about it, feeling satisfied that she was apparently content with their living quarters as they were. But now he understood that it must have made her feel like home.
Her bedroom walls were softened by indigo dyed curtains and a simple deep chestnut brown dresser. There was a double futon rolled up in the corner. Hesitantly he opened the dresser, feeling an intruder. He found two of her trademark red dresses with the Haruno mark on them. He buried his nose in them, smelling her typical body scent. He choked on his feelings and he put them back quickly, fingering through the rest of the clothing. Black shinobi gear, a konoha forehead protector and underwear that made him grin and speed up his heart rate. He relished her scent whenever he detected a whiff of it.
Standing next to the futon, he noticed a picture in a wooden frame next to it on the floor. It was a picture of her team, Sasuke, Naruto and Kakashi, he recognized them easily, having fought alongside them on the battlefield. He couldn't help but smile at this young and silly girl. She looked everything that she promised she would look when she had told him about her hysterical crush on Sasuke and her constant fear to fight. Her happy and innocent face brought the pain back to the surface and he quickly exited the room.
Restless in search of something to do, he padded into the kitchen with the groceries, finding his way in her spartan looking kitchen, equipped with the bare minimum of utensils. He cooked rice and eggplant, seasoning them with some slivers of katsuobushi and a splash of soy. He chewed his food slowly, relishing the simple flavours. It seemed to quiet his senses, filling his body with a slow warmth. His mind wandered to his predicament. He lost her through time, but he felt her close by being in her apartment, smelling her, seeing her possessions around him. He felt more at peace than he had for years. He silently thanked his niece for her clear insight to bring him here.
After dinner, exhaustion overtook him, as if all the years of grief finally caught up. He left the dishes for what they were, stumbled towards the bedroom, rolling out the futon throwing on blankets. Without the energy to undress he let himself collapse on the bed.
Tears burned in his eyes again, her smell was everywhere, she seemed so close that he could almost touch her. Would he ever hold her again? He wondered that even after all these years, he still hadn't given up hope, hope to find her somehow.
But for now he gave into the tears that burned the inside of his skull, feeling pathetic. And then there was only a dark abyss with no memories of love, no pain and no joy.