[canonverse]
There's blood on his clothes, seeping through his blue shirt, but they are not his. They are not even of the sound ninjas. The blood of his enemies had dried by now, crusty and brown on his fingers and the metallic smell stinging his nose. However, the blood in his clothes is warm, red, and seeping through his clothes, on his skin, seeping inside of his soul, like the very glassy green eyes that keep flashing over in his mind.
It was Sakura's and she was scared of him.
She sat there, against the dirt, a supposed contrast to the horrid scenery surrounding her. She was Sakura who was to be clean and happy and blushing with long hair floating in the wind but now there's a hidden pain in her face which she hides from him. The dirty and bloody pink strands litter the forest floor, some blown away, some sticking to the ground. She looks at them, and with bleeding fingers passes a ghost of a touch over them. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Sasuke loathes himself.
Weak. He was weak.
end.
a/n: here's some take to my fave nardo arc (and scene and beginning of my ss career and everything in between)