A/N: Time skip, let's go~

You

Three years, eight months, two weeks and four days.

I'm still waiting, Sakura. (I'll always be waiting.)

And, annoyingly enough, so is Naruto. (Obviously, Sasuke's never bothered.)

"Well, that was an eventful missions as always," Naruto remarks with that signature passive aggressive energy of his as he fiddles with a kunai. "Would've been nicer if Sakura was the one who was here to experience it, but I'll just have to hope I'll see her the next time we meet up."

Seeing as how literally all of our missions above D-rank turn out to be of a much higher difficulty than stated ̶ (which has to be on purpose at this point) ̶ having you be present for that would be rather traumatising.

Sasuke squints, his teeth bared with hostile disgust as he retorts, "As if she'd be useful if she were, fuckhead. Maybe you should get a pink wig and someone willing to roleplay as her because this pining shit is just sad and I don't want to hear it."

"Maybe you should wake up and realise that the 'person' you're so desperately clinging onto is a lie," Naruto snaps back with a wide smile.

"That's it! Sakuran, hold me back because I'm about to beat this fox ferret motherfucker!"

I raise a brow at him. "I have no reason to stop you."

Kakashi exhales, prompting us to look over our shoulders. He's running a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed in exasperation. Understandably so because the bickering happens a lot and no amount of attempted disciplining works. (I… have anger management issues, so it's not like I'm completely innocent myself.)

Once upon a time, I would've found this particular topic upsetting ̶ (some part of me still does, but it's tiring to get emotional about it every time) ̶ but having to deal with this shit for three years is enough to desensitise me.

(I'm… kind of my own person, now, Sakura. I can admit that. I have to be, otherwise there'd be nothing left for you to come back to.)

"Please, stop," Kakashi deadpans as he frowns at us. "Feel free to continue when we're back in the village, but I'll stab all of you if you don't stop while we're on the road where I have to listen."

"Rude," Sasuke scoffs, shuffling closer to me either out of apprehension or protectiveness. Probably a bit of both. "If you're so sick of our shit, why don't you just recommend us for the Chuunin Exams and we can get of your weird, gravity-defying hair that isn't like my own gravity-defying hair because mine is just better?"

Even Naruto tilts his head at that in silent agreement. (The Chuunin Exams, not the gravity-defying hair. He automatically disagrees just out of spite.) We all graduated early because Sasuke and I hated the academy and I presume Naruto did, too. And with all our wild missions under our belt, we're more than qualified to be chuunin. In fact, we practically already are.

I'm almost certain of the fact it's all been planned by the Hokage. We're a fairly high-profile team since the Last Uchiha is on it and there's something special about Naruto that has him so hated by the whole village. (And it's not just because he's a dickhead. In all honesty, I'm sure his twisted personality is because of their poor treatment in the first place.)

And I suppose I'm also fairly conspicuous since Kabuto's turned me into the one of the few highly capable medical-nin in the village who also happens to have a particular penchant for violence.

(Would you still hate me, Sakura? Would it hurt you to know that I use my abilities to heal also as a means to kill?)

"I might just this year, even if Hokage-sama doesn't want it," Kakashi finally replies, glancing off to the side in consideration. "I need some quiet and a pay raise."

Actually, that doesn't sound all that bad. It's been a while since I've had some actual time to myself, after all.

(From Naruto and Sasuke, anyway. You've been leaving me hanging for years.)

. . .

. . .

"At this point, I feel as though I should just give you actual B and A-rank missions with your track record," the Hokage muses, skimming through the documents on his desk. "It's truly a marvel to see such consistent misfortune."

"I see it, now," Sasuke starts, his tone and squint accusatory. "You're trying to get us killed! Giving us actual B or A-rank missions would mean getting S-rank or SS-rank mission and we'll literally fucking die, dude."

I suppress a yawn as Naruto contemptuously points out, "SS-ranks don't exist, you halfwit. Did you drop the rest of your feeble brain at the last mission?"

Sasuke hisses, swatting at Naruto like a fly. "Shut the fuck up, you know what I mean. God." The way he rolls his eyes almost looks painful. "And as a side note, get some better insults. What're you going to call me next? A nincompoop?" He scoffs. "Fucking loser."

A surprised laugh escapes me. It earns me a cold, feral glare that's never been quite able to make me fearful. Maybe it should, though. Sometimes, there's a vibe with Naruto's chakra that feels horrific, old and oppressive. Usually when he's fighting.

But it doesn't change the fact that he never touches me, no matter how much he clearly wants to. He'll glare at me like he'll flay me alive whenever I'm less tolerant of his shit, but he'll always go for Sasuke instead of aiming for me.

(Because my face is yours. Because he adores you, although I'm not sure why. I'm not sure if even he knows.)

Unfortunately for him, I'm not nice enough to not take advantage of that.

. . .

. . .

It's become a sort of ritual for Sasuke and I to take baths together after missions. And in general, I suppose. (I worry about him, sometimes. This co-dependency isn't really efficient for the long-term.)

For me, it's calming to just sit in the water and exist for a while. (I'm okay with existing, now, I think. Mostly. But if you wanted me gone, I'd leave for you. Anything for you.)

For Sasuke, I think like he feels more vulnerable and, as a result, closer to me. Being naked usually has that kind of association, but it's never bothered me. (It'd bother you, I know. But it's not like Sasuke would mock you for it when he's done it himself.)

"You nearly done?" I murmur in question, leaning over Sasuke to comb his wet hair out of his face with my fingers. His eyelashes flutter, his eyes both content and intense as he gazes at me with a multitude of emotions. (He can never quite get rid of the desperate longing as if I'm simultaneously right next to him and just out of his reach. It's both a burden and a comfort.)

The water ripples when he stretches like a spoiled cat before sitting up and tilting his head towards my touch.

"Mm, yeah, I'm done," he answers, his attention on my lips as he brushes a thumb over them. He's been fixated on them, lately.

We get out, then, moving with practised ease as we migrate to our room to get dressed and relax.

Sasuke likes it when I dry his hair with a towel, so I'm doing that on the bed while he faces me because another thing he enjoys is watching me. (I've resigned myself to the knowledge that he'll never stop caring about me. He has terrible obsessive tendencies and that's not going to change anytime soon.)

For a while, it's quiet. A comfortable sort of silence I appreciate because our team dynamics are a mess and it's exhausting to deal with for all involved.

Eventually, though, I notice that familiar gleam in Sasuke's eyes, prompting me to pause and stare at him in askance. (Although, I think I already know what he's up to.)

Sasuke leans forward, the towel still on his head when he kisses me. I let out a tired ̶ (but admittedly fond) ̶ sigh against his lips before repositioning to indulge him, his face in my hands while his are latched onto my thighs.

He likes kissing, too. It's a new interest he says is because of puberty, although I haven't felt anything like that yet even though I'm biologically female and they usually go through puberty earlier. (Would you feel like kissing people? Would you want someone to hold you and make you lose your breath?)

I don't really understand the desire, to be honest. It's… wet, is all I can say. But it makes him happy and I'd prefer him to be that over sad. I'd do the same for you, you know, although I doubt you'd want to kiss me out of all the other available options. (How would that even work? What would the implications be?)

Abruptly, I have to break away from Sasuke ̶ (who whines in protest despite almost being on the verge of collapse) ̶ as something within my ribcage shifts and warms.

Three years, eight months, two weeks and five days.

You took your time, didn't you, Sakura?

You

A/N: A wild Sakura appears. Finally. Awkward timing, though.

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