notes: completely revised! (7/9/19)
rating: K
disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
.
.
23. cloak
.
.
Sakura stares at the sea of gray bundled on her lap, sewing needle in one hand as the other fingers the material for the designated tear she had been meaning to fix. It wasn't too often that Sasuke's cloak received a tear or two when he came back; he is a careful man, usually cautious and perceptive. So when he came home yesterday with a rather large tear on the side of his cloak, Sakura was more than willing to mend it for him the next day and he lets her. Growing up, Sasuke had a general grasp of sewing as he was left to take care of himself, but with an arm short, he could not properly insert the needle to where it should go—enlisting Sakura's help is a good decision, he knew, as an ultimatum.
He had not expected the hole to be so big. It'd been during his time away from the village—he'd been on the low end, sleuthing for information, the normal routine for him. It just so happens that his name is somewhat notorious among fellow shinobi, friend or foe, and many have tried to allied themselves together to bring him down, hunt his head for a plentiful bounty no doubt. He had to scoff; the bounty was removed a long time ago on Naruto's firm orders. While Sasuke had felt some semblance of gratitude for his actions, it didn't not meant several bloodthirsty rouges couldn't continue to hunt him down. Uchiha Sasuke made many enemies, some deliberate and others unintentionally. He cannot reverse time to fix what had been done, but he'd some hope that his atonement could quell some people's fears. Konoha was mainly cautious, hostile for the first month of his return, and then it started to turn back to normal—not many gave him glances anymore, but he suspected that had something to do with his involvement with Sakura.
If a girl like Sakura loved him, then there must be some good in this man. He'd heard it before on the road, midst his own village.
But of course, even with Sakura's kind soul dispersing most of those nasty rumors about him, there lurked people who still liked to give him animosity-filled glares. And one of them had been the cause to this particularly large tear in his cloak: he'd had been on the way back to Konoha, but then some oaf lunged at him and the struggle ended with Sasuke nonchalantly continuing his way as the oaf discovered how dirt tasted like, but the sneak attack of a rather sharp katana found its way thrashing through his cloak before Sasuke could leap.
"How did it even get this way?" Sakura had asked him idly, the needle going in and out of the fabric. He needed a moment to think about that.
Sasuke patiently sips at the tea she'd provided earlier. "An ambush," he settles with saying, his back resting against the couch and he missed it when it was just him and her at home. Sarada had to see to another mission with her team. "I've dealt with him quickly, but I might've underestimated his speed." Of course, Sasuke is tenfold faster, but the ambush was still well-timed.
Furrowing her eyebrows, she gives the edges of the hole a careful look. "It doesn't look like a kunai cut this."
"He had a katana." His attacker seemed almost clumsy with it, not at all graceful and poised like the samurai he'd read about in old historical books—that man was a fool to be a bigger fool.
Sakura gazes at him, as if she knew he wasn't telling her more. By now, she knew him enough to know that he trusted her; he trusted her with many things he'd always categorized to be meant for himself.
The newspaper on his lap didn't seem so interesting anymore (not that it ever was—Naruto should stop being on the front pages so much) as he reclines further back. "He said that a monster always stay a monster."
He knew those were merely words of spite, but those words also somehow hit too close to home for him. It'd been something he was constantly struggling with; only Sakura seemed to know how much personal strife he'd been through because of it. It made him question his own identity. Was he Uchiha Sasuke the monster, or Uchiha Sasuke the atoned shinobi of Konoha? He didn't like how bitter it made him feel—he thought it was over when he'd announced his plan of atonement and he thought it'd be okay when Sakura smiled at him and Kakashi stood behind her looking like how Fugaku did that day when he perfected Katon. But when Sasuke had been out on the road, passing by villages for some occasional rest, he realized that it wasn't over yet. Konoha had somehow forgiven him and he believed that would mark an end to his story, but he'd forgotten about the people beyond Konoha's gates. Those people mainly ignored him, but like the other instances of him out on the road, some didn't like him and they did everything to make it obvious.
Sakura's fingers stop handling the needle for a second, finding it hard to say anything back to that. She knew this was a very delicate subject. "...If that monster reformed himself out of the good of his heart, then he is a kind monster." Slowly, her fingers began to work again, efficiently going back to resealing the tear. She'd finished half of its repair so far.
Quiet, he stares at simply nothing ahead. "But he's still a monster."
"A monster can still be a monster—" Sakura replies softly, "—but that doesn't mean he's automatically evil."
Sasuke spends some time dwelling on that thought. "...He eventually chose to."
"But then he also chose to be good again," she adds patiently, a little smile on her lips.
.
.
Sakura had fell asleep at some point when she'd been repairing the last stitch on his cloak.
He runs his fingers across the repaired spot; it'd felt new again—he didn't know how he became attached to the old thing, but it felt like when he first got it. He had always worn a cloak when he went out for his atonement—at first, it'd be for his safety against the weather, but then he found some comfort in it, taking in the warmth it offers him and with this warmness, he thinks about his team.
It's ridiculous of him to find reasons to like a cloak so much, but Sasuke found himself being lenient to many things after Sakura had somehow wormed her way to his heart, accompanied him on his atonement trip and they'd travel together. On cold days, he'd taken habit to letting her sit in front of him, letting his cloak shield them both from the turbulent winds. On other days, she'd wash the cloak for him and she'd make sure it smelled fresh when he wakes up in the morning when he was more tired than usual.
"You didn't have to," he would tell her multiple times. The thing was old, tattered, anyways. Waking up to the scent of the forest, the scent of dry wood, mostly, he could never adjust well to smelling how clean she made his cloak. She didn't have to wash it with the other laundry; it felt like she was some handmaid instead of a traveling partner and he'd feel guilty that his missing arm would render him so incapable of doing simple menial things like washing clothes.
She would smile at him. "But I want to help! It wouldn't make me feel better if I was stuck doing nothing while you do everything, Sasuke-kun." This seemed ironic to Sasuke.
"Do as you please," Sasuke remembered himself saying, relinquishing most of the tasks to her ever since that day. He still took care of hunting for food, managing inventory of their weapons and stocked up medical things that she'd brought with her, while she managed laundry, cleaning, and carrying half their things as he took up the other half. Then when he wanted to get the day started with, he'd wrap himself up in that fresh cloak of his that she cleaned up and it would smell like the river and flowers and lavender.
When they walked, traversing through open fields, Sakura had given a shiver despite being clad in her own cloak, the one she brought from Konoha with her. "I didn't think the winds were that strong here! Maybe we should turn to another direction and find a shortcut?" she had asked him, and he could tell she was running her palms down her arms underneath that flimsy cloak of hers. Gee, why did she take it if she was still cold?
"The next village should be just up ahead," he lightly argues, firmly wanting to go straight ahead than go another way around. "A few hours, estimated." She looked conflicted, so Sasuke makes up his mind and he raises his arm, allowing the flap of his cloak to open. "Come."
His tone sounds neutral, yet something compelled Sakura to comply with shy pink cheeks. It felt considerably warmer as he directed them forward, his cloak over both of them and his warm palm clasped safely at her shoulder. Even when they got to the village and they parted from each other, it was nice while it lasted—there'd been some semblance of comfort from the gesture and it made Sakura's heart thump and thump and thud. Sasuke dared not to tell her; it'd been obvious at some point when the wind was calming down. He didn't feel the same, but he admitted it to himself that it was nice.
"Sakura," he later spoke up from his place across the fire they'd set up. They had long trudged past the village and were resting near a little cave that the forests had hidden. He'd seen how she blew her breath into her hands despite the gloves that she wore—winter was coming, that was the telltale sign. Sasuke repeated what he did earlier; he lifts up his arm, his cloak would open, and it'd be welcoming her.
She'd take the unspoken invitation and she'd situate herself there and he'd wrap the cloak back until she was secure—and all was peaceful from there. It'd lull them to a comforting sleep.
.
.
The next morning, Sakura woke up and her blanket was the cloak.
