Chapter 32
Sakura opens the door and Sasuke deposits the overstuffed bag by his shoes. As always, the place smells of strange, feminine things. This evening it's a delicate, white floral perfume that doesn't make his head ache for once.
Sasuke pauses briefly, wondering when he'd started to find comfort in the scents of her home, and not the rugged odors of morning dew and freshwater breezes. In fact, it worries him.
Would he lie awake at night, reminiscing these aromas that had suddenly turned nostalgic?
"Pass me a diaper, and some wipes?" Sakura asks as he takes off his coat.
He hands her the items and watches as she stretches out on the floor of her living room, gently guiding the 10-month-old onto her back. Before she can get everything situated though, the phone rings. She looks up at him with an annoyed face.
"Do you mind answer—oh, no, wait. What if it's my mom? It's late; she wouldn't like to hear a man on the phone." The woman moves to stand. "Can you watch her for me?"
Sasuke sits on the floor and folds the diaper out in front of him. Before Sakura can even get to the phone, the midnight-haired man has already removed the soiled bottom and fitted a new one on without pause. Ahiru hadn't even had the chance to protest. Even Hojo wasn't that good!
"Hello…Mom?" Thank god I answered.
As she speaks, Ahiru crawls away from Sasuke and towards the couch, ready to jump around and enjoy her newfound freedom. She was a simple child, and an advanced one, too.
"Hm…I can't in the morning, I'm babysitting. Her mother won't get off work early, like, one in the morning early. What about dinner instead of breakfast?" She pauses, waiting for her mother to finish speaking. "Sounds good, I'll see you in the late afternoon."
Sakura says a rushed goodbye and makes her way to the coffee table, stepping over Sasuke as she grabs the TV remote. She figured camping out in here would be better (and safer) than anywhere else in her home. She had hidden kunai and various weaponries stuffed in the strangest of places. Besides, babies and carpet seemed to fit well together.
Before she can reach her sofa, she feels a gentle pressure on her calf. She looks down and Sasuke looks up, tugging softly on the hem of her fitted capris.
He says nothing as he guides her between his legs, ignoring her unhidden intake of breath. Her back slides along his front and Sasuke raises his knees, cradling Sakura fully.
Sasuke takes the remote from her because she's dazed and unmoving. Who wouldn't be? Never in a million years would she have thought of this situation—babysitting next to Sasuke Uchiha, the ex-missing-nin.
Sakura is very conscious of her pressure against him. Was she too heavy? She leans forwards, unlatching from his heat.
Sasuke stops flicking through the channels when Joruri's round face and red hair flash on the screen. He's a familiar man—a loudmouth know-it-all, and someone who told it like it was.
"You heard it here first, folks! Next Wednesday will be the big day! Five more days until the end of the exams! Call us and cast your bets—will all three Sannin pass? Who will be pitted against whom? What does Lord Hokage have in mind?"
"What does he have in mind?" Sakura mumbles. She's suddenly enmeshed in the programming before her. "It's not going to be more robot stuff, is it?"
Sasuke isn't worried about the TV, though. He's pulls her back against him and lets out a quick "Hm". It rumbles along his chest so deeply Sakura can feel it against her spine. She's very responsive to it all. Her heartrate picks up and pink dusts her cheeks, all the way to her shoulders.
When he speaks, his hot breath tickles her neck. "Kakashi wouldn't tell me."
"Not even for his favorite student, eh?"
She feels the air he blows from his nostrils in a mock chortle, and her body reacts accordingly. It was chemical, natural. Why was he so addicting? If it were anyone else breathing on her, she'd have a fit. But, there was something about Sasuke that made it…different...
He was unattainable, reserved—something she's always wanted, but could never have. For now, she was limited to his slow lapses in judgment, and Sakura savored everything offered.
"He only trained me because of my doujutsu."
She turns and skims her cheek along his nose. While she stumbles over her forgotten words, she notices that his eyes drop briefly to her mouth. Sakura can only think of pushing him farther—breaking him. She's caught in a catch 22, a battle of morality and her own physical wants.
Karin had said that Sasuke's receptors were flipped. That meant falling in love would be a painful, confusing task. The revelation breaks Sakura's heart clean in two. She knew of her feelings and unconditional amity from such a young age. It had happened so easily, so suddenly that she really hadn't noticed until it was too late. Falling in love would never be that simple for him.
Her lips tremble, because she was still young, and her physical wants were trumping her morality. It made her feel weak and powerful all at the same time.
They were both young. Sure, they'd killed people, for various reasons (be it duty, or hindrance). And yeah, they'd been thrust into adulthood quicker than most. But, they savored the meaningless touches and the harmless foreplay nonetheless. It was a different kind of thrill.
They both had a lot to make up for.
She looks at him and sees all of his flaws and perfections. Though not much time has passed, it seems like she's been with Sasuke for an eternity. Being around him doesn't make her feel like a giggling fool anymore, though she did have her bouts. She's progressed exponentially with him. His walls weren't so high, and her confidence wasn't so weak.
Maybe when he left, they could write to each other.
Maybe, when she looked up at the moon they shared, he would start to think of her, too.
As if he can sense her thoughts, he looks into her eyes only the way Sasuke can. They are in their own moment, their own world—if only briefly.
Sakura feels a tug on her shirt and looks down through blurry eyes to see Ahiru. The little girl crawls between them and curls into the warmth, yawning deeply.
"I guess it's her bedtime, huh?"
He doesn't reply. His eyes become hazed, dancing between Sakura's emeralds and the chubby baby between them. She can almost see the cogs working in his mind—the "What would it be like to have this, some day?" and it's too much for Sakura to handle.
With the child on Sasuke's lap, Sakura stands, making her way to the entertainment center. Most of her films were documentaries and cheesy romances—neither seemed to suit the mood of tonight. "Would you like to watch something?"
She doesn't wait for him to reply. She had to settle her morose thoughts. Choosing one of Naruto's DVDS's, the woman pops it into the tray and toes her way back to the two.
She pauses for a moment, looking at the lulling child sprawled out on Sasuke's broad sternum. He looked so masculine, so relaxed in the presence of pure innocence. He would be a great father, for sure. He deserved the happiness—the moment—with his own offspring.
That would never happen with Sakura.
Sakura pulls her afghan off of the couch and sits down, as far away from him as possible. Her judgment was obscured by her lust, like always. Sasuke, however, doesn't give her the option of peaceful ignorance. Instead, he slides up next to her and leans into the sofa, tugging her bare legs upon his own. Together, they shift under the knit blanket, making sure the baby's ten fingers and ten toes are completely covered.
Sakura feels like it's all a dream, especially when Sasuke's hand spreads out over her upper thigh without hesitation. If she lets herself drift away from reality, she could almost believe a moment like this could be in her future.
One day, she would come home to her husband's arms and fall into his embrace as their child slept peacefully beside them.
She imagines making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, healing boo-boo's and reading bedtime stories. She thinks of pink hair and black eyes and freckled cheeks and chubby fingers.
And yet, Sakura could not have children.
She pulls away, suddenly feeling bitter. Instead of maternal things, Sakura is inundated with loneliness. She sees Ino in her wedding dress, and Naruto's fist child running up to her knee screaming for her auntie, and everyone else with swollen bellies and bright cheeks and happy little families.
"Do you mind if I take a shower?" She says, covering her emotions well, though she felt as if she were suffocating. "I won't be long."
Sasuke nods his head, already zoned into the action-packed beginning of the film. With a fleeting look towards the sleeping doll, Sakura untangles herself and runs into the bathroom.
Anger fills her.
The woman turns on the tap and adjusts it to just below scalding. As it heats up, she looks at her reflection, ready to see the immature body that always glared back.
The gods seemed to have shined down on her today, however.
It was not the boyish figure of a child that Sakura greeted. Instead, it was…a curvaceous woman, with angled cheeks and stunning, soapy-green eyes. Her skin glowed—not a tan color, but a shining peach.
She runs her fingers down the slowly vanishing bruises from Sasuke's canines, savoring the look and the feel and the texture, craving the imperfection. Oh, how she wanted to see it along every inch of flesh.
She undresses, haphazardly flinging off her pants. The stone from before falls out and the reverberating clatter it makes almost has Sakura in tears. She picks up the rock and under the steam and the lava-like spray from her faucet, Sakura lets her nails bite into the scar on her abdomen. Her teeth gnaw at her inner cheek until she tastes the copper of her own blood.
She would never be his. Not in this body.
Sasuke brushes his hair out of his eyes as an explosion rocks Sakura's sound system. The baby wakes briefly, looking around the room unsuccessfully for her mother. She'd slept soundly throughout most of the scenes, and it was surprising, because the movie was pretty brutal. Vaguely Sasuke notices that the end was near.
Sakura had been gone one…almost two hours.
He adjusts Ahiru and bounces her back into slumber, exhaling a relived sigh as she drifts. Sasuke doesn't have much time to worry about his teammate, because he's drawn to the front door. A tap echoes around the room moments later.
"Come in," Sasuke says, hoping it's loud enough for the guest to hear.
Hojo steps into the foyer and scans the room quickly, undoubtedly looking for his girlfriend. He doesn't bother addressing Sasuke. Instead, he heads towards the various supplies strewn around the living room. The girl has gone through an entire bottle, and two diaper changes, and Sasuke wasn't too worried about keeping the place clean.
"Where's Sakura?"
"Shower," Sasuke says curtly.
There's heaviness between them.
Sasuke knows nothing of this man, or what his intentions were. He doesn't like his casual touches that deny his personality—he stuttered and stumbled over his words, but held his hand to Sakura's lower back so steadily. Sasuke's eyes saw everything, and they certainly saw right though Yuma Hojo.
He stands and passes the infant to Hojo. Shifting down low, the man grabs Ahiru's satchel and flings it over his shoulder, as if it weighed a ton. "Will you tell Sakura that Amu appreciates this?"
"Why didn't Amu tell her?" Sasuke asks. It was a normal question, but one with a hidden meaning underneath. Why are you here, and not your sister?
As if he'd been caught, Hojo's eyebrows turn upwards and his lips purse. "It's starting to sprinkle, so I told her I'd grab Ahiru."
He was dressed in his night clothing: blue thermals, a clingy top, and a strange, fake perfume that wafted off of his body like a miasma. Sasuke scoffs internally at the absurd excuse.
"Next time, Sakura should keep her overnight." Somehow, the remark ends up sounding like a warning—or perhaps, a heavy suggestion. Sasuke had that way about him, a dominance that could exude from the plainest of phrases.
Hojo doesn't hesitate or search for his words in The Uchiha's presence. This confirms Sasuke's intuition. It seemed he wasn't some bubbly, loveable buffoon after all.
"Oh yes," There's a brief pause. "I'm sure I'll stay next time and….help her."
Sakura doesn't turn her head when she hears Sasuke tap at the door. Steam has stopped swirling now that the water ran cold. She looks at her thighs as she lies in the tub, letting the liquid run over her body like it belonged to a tepid, summer rain. Her skin is shriveled, and the tips of her fingertips started to turn white and she still holds onto her stone.
"That guy took Ahiru."
She smiles halfheartedly at Sasuke's muffled voice, because he'd remembered the baby's name but not her uncle's. The woman opens her mouth, letting the sprinkles fill the crevice so she can spit out the metallic taste. The rosette sends her strongest healing chakra to the scar just above her hipbone, trying to rebuild what could not be fixed. She lets out a frustrated groan that turns into a sob before she has the chance to stop it. As if a dam has broken, hot tears spill out of her eyes and mingle with the artificial drizzle produced by her showerhead.
"Sakura?"
Sasuke opens the door without permission or hesitation. He doesn't ask why she's lying down in the tub or why she bothers to stay in there if the water was making her shake. The air was weighted, heavy with musings that wouldn't go down the drain. Sakura was drowning in something—and Sasuke had been there, too, once before.
She doesn't need questions, she needs empathy. Making no comment, the man turns off the tap and pulls a towel off the holder.
She lets Sasuke wipe her skin with the barrier between them. He starts with her sopping hair, patting her cheeks, smoothing the cotton over her back. Mechanically, Sakura stands, taking over. The droplets leave her freshly shaven skin quickly.
Rubbing her eyes, she says, "I'm sorry I took so long. I guess I didn't realize—"
Sternly, he interjects. "Don't apologize to me. Not about this."
Sasuke has because he's been on the receiving end of sadness before. He never cared for tender, sorrowful eyes and words. Sakura the type that wore her heart on her sleeve, and if she wanted him to know, she would tell him. He could wait for her.
He would wait for her, forever.
The way her color shines in the whiteness of her bathroom reminds Sasuke of porcelain. Not just the hue; porcelain was more than that. Porcelain deters high-voltage electricity, is hard enough to protect from the harshest of weather—it's sterile and heat-resistant—both beautiful and durable simultaneously. There wasn't another word he could come up with that described this breakable, fearsome, stunning, strong woman.
Sakura's heart thrummed painfully in her chest as they held each other's gaze. Lethargy clung heavily upon her shoulders. With a weak voice, Sakura admits, "I just want to go to bed."
Her hand is cold in his, and not nearly as rough. Medical ninjutsu kept her soft, which wasn't expected of someone who could smash a mountain with her pinky finger. Sakura is drawn to Sasuke's warmness. As if reading her mind, Sasuke guides her into his arms, lifting her gently over the edge of the bath. Her first step is wobbly because of the pause in her blood flow—she had sat so awkwardly. Darting out to balance herself, Sakura falls into Sasuke's chest.
Without asking, he cradles his forearm under her knees and carries her down the hallway.