More than anything, Sasuke remembers the day she didn't come back. It was no secret to anyone that all his life was was a collection of bad memories, self-made and otherwise. For some reason, this was the only one that somehow became fresher every day.
The day she didn't come back. She'd had many of those days of her own - days when Sasuke didn't return. Most of her childhood, in fact, had been spent on days when Sasuke didn't come back. He hadn't thought of her then. She, and the rest of his team, had flitted across his mind occasionally, once in a blue moon, and he'd waved them off as the distractions they were.
But this was different. This wasn't hoping against hope for a lost friend. This was a ninja leaving on a standard mission with years of training behind her. This was a woman doing her job. But then it turned into her missing a deadline. And then it led to a recovery team coming up empty handed. Then it was sitting in Kakashi's office, hearing that she was dead. And then it was ashes scattered on a hillside and a hundred people who would never be the same.
That day, Sasuke hadn't gone to the gate to wait for her, but he had kept it in the back of his mind that it was the day she was supposed to be coming home. He would see her eventually - at the market, the training grounds, the hospital. He might not seek her out, but if he knew she was going to the training grounds in the morning, he wouldn't necessarily avoid the place. If he needed a cut looked at, he might wait the extra hour until he knew her hospital shift began. And when she inevitably nearly broke his door down trying to knock, he would not pretend that he wasn't home.
But the sun went down that day, and those who had gone to the gate to wait for her went home, unconcerned. Missions often ended up taking a day or two longer. But Sasuke had been undeniably frustrated, a little bit worried, and had not slept well that night. From the few missions she'd been on since the end of the war, she had never been late before, not without sending a scroll ahead, and not without someone making sure that Sasuke knew she'd sent a scroll, which he pretended not to care about.
Still, all this time later, not a day went by that her grave sat in solitude. Hinata came to clean the white marble. Kakashi would lie in the grass and read. Lee would tell stories to the air, as if she could hear him. Naruto came, too, although not as often. He would just stand and stare. He felt nearly as responsible as Sasuke.
Yamanaka Ino would lay flowers, still, after so long. Bluebells and sweet peas. And cherry blossoms. Once she'd told him what they meant. Bluebells meant grateful, she'd explained, tears welling in her eyes. Sweet pea flowers meant goodbye. And cherry blossoms meant kind and gentle. She'd had to turn away so that Sasuke wouldn't see the tears freely spill down her face. He'd pretended not to notice. The first day that she didn't come back was hard. And all of the days since then had not gotten any easier.