sasuke smells her before he sees her.
she had a distinct scent she always seemed to effortlessly carry over anywhere she went. for even when she was named after a particularly rosy bloom, she had a sort of delicate essence that seemed neither too overwhelming nor faint. it was the perfect blend of comfort, and she has soothed all his walls down.
sasuke thinks, when he looks at her dainty gentleness and steady grace dressed in her best blacks, that no one else could embody spring.
sakura feels him even if she doesn't see him.
that morning she chose her best little black dress and the reddest lipstick she owned and set forth.
it was hard to honour the dead, but she believed it was just a matter of finding the perfect balance between clouding them with the blackened earth they currently lived in and the red vigour they lived for.
she loses her footing almost every time, but then he is always there to catch her.
sasuke sees her stop just a few stones from him.
it became almost habitual; like a secret thing they did nobody else knew about.
like when they were genin and their mission commissioners gave them extra pay for a job well done and they hid it from naruto, when they actually did see underneath kakashi's mask that one time he slept like a log but they kept the image to themselves, or when he demanded for only a certain pink-haired medic to heal him and it reflected on the patient notes but she never gave anything away.
they were one with the shadows like that.
only now she is the lone light left and he intends to keep it that way.
he looks down at the ground beneath his feet, past the gravel that elegantly calligraphed aniki's name into loving brother and unsung hero where he lingers for a little longer—
until he can feel himself slowly being pulled back down into the earth he came from.
sakura lays a flower on top of his headstone.
a single white asphodel, ino told her it translated to my regrets follow you to the grave.
the other mono no aware – meaning transient kindness – she saves for his brother later. itachi really could have been the gentlest person she'd have known if they were given more time and less wars. the older uchiha's lot was a few paces from the youngest, because he told her he wanted to be as near to his brother as possible.
she can't help but smile at that.
because it would make absolute sense for him to request something so sasuke just as it made sense for him to go before her and leave her to pick herself up with the pieces they left behind and somehow still live through it all. like she could wake up, brush her teeth, put on her coat, head out the door and heal every single person who needed healing until she is worn out no more because how can she heal other people when she can't even heal herself and—
i miss you.
to this day and til the end of her own, sakura will always miss sasuke painfully and heartbreakingly.
she misses the way they were before all this happened and he was just a boy with black hair and black eyes because fuck that sharingan and she was just a girl who cut her hair on a whim. maybe she could even miss his snide remarks at her eagerness about everything in life because she thought she was living that life with him, but now he isn't and she finds it harder to look forward to new mornings when all her past nights have been spent mending her broken heart together.
lone survivor and war hero, it said on his plaque.
but sakura sees what it leaves out – strong-willed shinobi, misguided avenger, a great fucking friend, but above all – uchiha sasuke, as in her sasuke-kun.
the sasuke-kun who demurely suggested they prank naruto into keeping his half of the mission pay just to get back at him, sasuke-kun who had a look of bewilderment in his eyes when they saw kakashi-sensei's face for the first time, sasuke-kun who was quiet the whole time she healed him but had an easy aura like he wasn't quite there yet but was beginning to, and by gods that sasuke-kun was beautiful.
so free of inhibition and prejudice and vengeance and every other dark thing his mind conditioned him to think; he was admittedly not the most sound person to begin with, but then madara went ahead and shattered whatever psyche was left of him.
when sakura drove a knife to his heart, her own died with his.
sasuke hears her break out into a sob the same time he sees her knees give out.
there she was in a scene all too familiar to him; grovelling by his grave and whispering endless apologies and wishing he was there and i miss you so much sasuke-kun.
it takes everything in him then not to cross over, deal with the devil, scream at her to stop, rip his own fucking heart for her to live – not that monotonous day-to-day movement she thought she was doing – but really live again.
as in smile like she effortlessly did when they were twelve, cook like she was the world's greatest chef even if she wasn't, spar like it didn't matter she was born a civilian, heal like she was playing god.
but this thing she kept doing, bare her soul out and not expect him to mend it back together, shatters his very core. he can ignore everything else – but never her remorse.
because he saw her coming from a mile away and could have dodged if he really wanted to. but at that point madara was spouting half-lies laced with truth and aniki was gone again and its been years since he was last healed by a comforting chakra and his eyes were hurting so much he might as well be blind and he was so fucking tired; he lets her.
when sasuke felt the blade slip past him, he inched closer to hug her.
sakura spends every night in the memorial stone.
sasuke spends every day waiting for her.