Owari

She led him inside, and had him sit on the side of her couch. She didn't offer him tea, nor did she continue making one; as the boiling water was used to meticulously clean his wound and warm his feet.

Neither spoke. For neither would know what to say to each other. She didn't dare ask where he got the damage. He didn't bother asking her how she had been. But they reveled in the awkward silence rather than renewing the old bonds they used to have.

For time had made them both distant to broken acquaintances.

She applied herbs to keep away infection; he fought to hide a wince. She stitched the wound close; he continued looking out the window and about the room. And when he noticed that lone picture frame that decorated her house, he couldn't help but scorn at her.

"It's a pity that you still kept that." She looked up and followed his stare. Their untroubled faces captured in photograph, their lost youth narrated in that memorable picture, stirred familiar emotions. But she chose not to show it. Be stoic. Like the man who mocked her for never letting go of the past.

"Only because he wanted me to."

He knew who she was talking about. His smirk only deepened. "Hn. What a shame. He had always been stupid. But I never thought he'd never grow up."

"If you say so," was all she could utter. It was painful, even after all the years she had practiced to feel and act indifferent when their childhood bonds were talked about. She, after all, still held a pinch of that bond even after she had changed addresses or grew older and presumably wiser.

But she had gotten used to the idea of him never going back to that familiar kid she had became partial to – so much more so on the idea that he no longer treasured their old times.

They fell silent again. But she gave him that alarmed look when the wind whistled past her window, and they both saw heavy snow raining outside.

"Don't worry, I'll go after you're done," shifting from the seat, ready to excuse himself out.

"Where will you go then?" she asked, having second thoughts whether to play the Good Samaritan on this poor, wounded man who saved her several times before and tried to kill her twice.

He didn't answer.

"J-just, it's fine, you can just stay here," she offered, hating herself for her oath and humanitarian resolve, and that hidden sympathy she always had for him.

He gave her a suspicious look that irritated her.

"I'm not asking you to stay because I want you to. I'm doing this because I'm a doctor and my conscience is driving me to do what's best for you."

He looked away.

She finished wrapping his abdomen with a few gauzes, went to her old cabinets and took out a blanket to keep him warm. She didn't have clothes for him, he'd just have to live with that blanket.

Warm tea still appealed to her so she prepared another kettle to boil, leaving him to wait for the water in the kitchen. It was another reason for her not to be in the same room with him.

And it suited him. He was somewhat grateful for her hospitality. Yet, he was still uncomfortable to be even speaking to her. The past hadn't been kind to them.

Although he no longer lived a dangerous life of a shinobi, given that he had no village to swear his alliances and loyalties to, he had lived in seclusion and continued living dangerously and alone because of ninjas trying to take him down because of his past grievances, and ninjas trying to get his Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan.

After the fourth Great Shinobi War, he had left everything behind. After all, he had avenged the clan: had killed his brother, had killed the elders without mercy, had been one of the accessories that led Konoha down to its knees during the war, had eventually defeated Madara in a battle that almost cost him his eyes and his life.

He had nothing to go back to. His past acquaintances were all blotched with blood and hatred. But despite him and Naruto fighting and vowing to kill each other, they weren't able to. Naruto was still trying so hard to get him back until the end. He, on the other had, only continued spitting on every word his best friend had spoken.

In the end, he delivered a fatal blow, of which Naruto had miraculously survived but forever suffered to. One could blame him for his death, as Naruto had gone weak after their legendary battle. But still, he had never failed the village when it came to the point where he needed to offer his life for its own survival.

Somehow, he was jealous of him. Naruto would always, always have something to live for. Now, going on with his life long past his own reason for living, he was stagnant. A driftwood. Living only for the sake of living.

Was she feeling the same? Living past her prime, with no one to share each day with? No one to listen to her ramblings on how stressful work was or how she wanted roast beef for dinner?

He shook his head to get those thoughts away. Instead, he glanced around to distract himself. He found her house rather bare. The walls were white, but a bit yellowish due to the damp and cold weather; the cabinets were few, but standard-looking without any adornments – except for penholders and that lousy picture. The coffee table was empty, no vases or runners like those that his mother was so fond of using. The sofa was even stiff, not that he was complaining. But this wasn't the kind of house that fitted her. The curtains were plain; he was guessing they were old ones from the hospital.

Definitely not the home where spring used to flourish.

Maybe she was no longer spring. She had been exposed to all evils and lived through various tragedies that spring was no longer her happy place. That no other seasons could be linked to her once glowing green eyes, sweet youthful smiles and her cherry-blossomed hair. Maybe even the pure white of winter could not even stand in contrast to the darkness her life had been.

What happened to her? Was being a kunoichi too much for her fragile soul to handle? Or was her heart incapable of letting go of all the lost friends piling up through time?

Hn. Childish. This is a shinobi world. The weak never had a chance to survive. She shouldn't have pursued it in the first place.

He was startled back to reality when he heard the two cups of tea clucking as they were laid on the table. Her sad face loomed into view, wrinkles slowly burying her eyes and the sides on her non-existent smile. It was then that he had realized that maybe she wasn't that weak to have been changed by the evil world of a shinobi. Maybe she was just too strong to be too happy and weak that her heart was able to build walls of steel and ice.

"Stop looking at me like that. It's safe. I didn't poison it." It wasn't until she raised one mean eyebrow did he become aware that he was staring back at her with an expression he himself couldn't pinpoint as it bordered from pity to unperceivable to despair.

"Well? Aren't you going to drink what was being offered?" she asked, somehow insulted with him neglecting her tea.

"Thank you," reaching out to get his cup.

Her eyes evidently glowed and filled her face, but her sudden shock and confusion was hidden away in a blink. It wasn't because of the history those words of gratitude entailed that brought out such reactions from her, but because of the raw sincerity and humility in his voice that everything she had thought of him after their evil meetings were all questioned.

Was it ever possible that after all these years, after everything he had done, after all those bitter and sad and angry words exchanged, that little boy with a warm heart still existed?

No. It wasn't. He was tainted – with everything malevolent from blood to soul.

But his eyes! His dark eyes were still as beautiful as she could remember. His lashes shadowed them and created an effect of both torn and wistful – but beautiful still that they once wanted her to take care of him. And now, those pair of charcoal was reminiscent of old days, no longer held a dark malice that had stared back at her with unadulterated hate and murder.

Then again, should he bring forth that Eternal Sharingan he was known for, would he scare her? Or protect her like he had done once upon a time? Or would he be able to see through her and know that she was as lonely as he had been?

What's the point of all these again, she questioned. Time had been the greatest barrier. Him sitting in her living room and sipping her tea would and could never get all those old times back. Would and could never regress from all those desires to kill one another in the battlefield.

Naruto was wrong. He was but a child when he died believing this man was still worthy of a little redemption.

"So, what are you doing with your life now?" She started, her thoughts made her ask it with detest.

It was rather a straightforward question that it was rude to have it asked. But they were neither strangers to each other. But they were neither friends, too. No longer friends, much less teammates.

"I travel," he surprisingly answered, in a surprisingly polite manner.

"Travelling. I see. What? Are you searching for something?"

"No." Travelling alone, travelling without any destination in particular. Was that what the infamous Uchiha survivor's life had become? He was so full of purpose back then. He drove to the edge of sanity all in the fulfillment of his one goal to restore the name of the prestigious Uchiha clan, and to bestow dark justice by his own hands upon those who had wronged the clan.

To live life alone, that was his fate after all.

And it suddenly broke her heart knowing he would still be alone even after carrying everything through.

"It won't bring anyone happiness, not even you, Sasuke," she whispered, remembering a certain conversation long way back. She was too caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice that her words were audible enough and made him clench his jaws.

"Why'd you leave Konoha?" he added in to the conversation.

"It's a personal choice."

It didn't bother them both that they had fallen silent again. It was not awkward to just sit there and listen to the storm outside. If anything, it was even gratifying. For them both. To somehow learn that at least an old friend was still alive. However, they both know that living through time alone was never gratifying. But they chose not to think too much about it. They had their own lonely lives to think about.

She leaned on her stiff sofa after finishing her tea, and rested her head on the back rest. Her ceiling was dusty, but it was nice to look at. Calming. A crack lining from the yellowish light bulb, cobwebs dangling from everywhere, ants marching softly from the little hole they drilled on the edge. If only it was easy to just sweep everything off, she would have done it. But her hands were too short to reach it.

"How are you, Sasuke?" she asked, almost mumbling. She didn't expect him to answer, but he did.

"Wounded."

She snickered. "I've already taken care of that."

"Aa."

Dust. Too many dusts. If she delighted in the dust, would it be the same with making snow angels with her hands on winter?

He watched her at the corner of his eyes. Watching her stare into space was somehow, calming. She was still as beautiful as he could remember. But her beauty was a manifestation of all the things she had lost, and all the things she had to live without. She was no longer that little twelve-year-old who clapped her hands when the blossoms danced to the ground, or who blushed in every little thing that made her feel light.

She was a beautiful disillusioned woman, whose eyes were green with awful truth and sad realities. He had been the same; however, he was forced to grow an adult life at seven. Yet, somehow, it saddened him to see her lose that childish enthusiasm she was known for – no matter how old she may be.

"Ironic. But I'm quite glad you're still okay," she said.

"Aa. Me too," he answered unknowingly, but he meant what he said. Her head moved to face him, confused at what he just said.

What was with this man? He tried to kill her twice. His eyes were grim. He tried to kill his teacher, their teacher. He almost killed his best friend. He brought devastation to her village, and to the Shinobi world.

But he said his word with disturbing tenderness.

Did time tame him? Was he finally free of the hatred that spawned in his heart and very soul? Again, his eyes were beautiful, and wise.

"I'll go cook dinner." She exited the room. She needed to stay away. She was no longer used to this other side of him – that side she had known him for, that used to dwell in that little brooding boy. His gentleness back then was hidden in a façade of hate, but still there nonetheless.

And his gentleness now crushed her heart that no anger ever could.

Maybe Naruto was right in believing in him?

And maybe she was wrong in losing her faith in him.

And maybe it's time to finally forgive him? Let go and let live?

She served dinner as soon as she finished cooking. Braised beef and blanched vegetables from her neighbor's garden. They ate in silence, against the strong wind and heavy snow outside.

He helped with the dishes, but she strongly opposed it as he might tire himself out; but he stubbornly insisted. She gave him more blankets and pillows to keep him comfortable in the sofa, and then offered wood to the dying fire.

He watched her, behind thick lashes and sullen bangs. He watched her with curiosity and pity, and a strange responsibility of getting that little girl back – for her sake and for the sake of this world who came short of one vernal soul.

"Go rest, Sakura." At first she didn't budge, but later, her mind told her that he was talking to her. It had been ages since someone called her by her first name. She was Haruno-san now. And it felt weird to hear her name again. To have someone call her name again, to drop any honorifics to sound polite.

The fire flickered as the wood crackled under the heat. She stared at the red flame. How ironic it was that the first visitor she would have in her new home, after years of living in it, would be Uchiha Sasuke? And how odd it felt to have him say her name again?

She stared at the red flame, wanting so much to consume it to fill the coldness exuding from her small figure. Tears gathered around her dry eyes, reacquainting with those sapphire orbs that had stopped knowing how to cry. She dropped the fireplace rod she was holding.

"Bare," she whispered. Bare! Her life was a barren wasteland! And wasn't it unfair? She had done the right things in every thing most of her life. She had been a top student, a good team mate, a prized apprentice. She had been there for her best friend, for her friends, for every body else. She had saved lives every day! Let go of a tainted love she knew wasn't going anywhere.

She had done all the right things! But why did it feel so bare? Empty? After every thing, she was all alone.

"Were you contented, Sasuke?"

"No." She jumped at his answer, not expecting he had heard what she said. She was surprised even, when he touched her shoulder and held her forearm to pull her up.

"You never stopped crying, do you?" he said, and he stared deep into those green eyes that only looked radiant because of the fire.

"I, I'm sorry. Th-there's, the smoke got into my eyes." Her free hand moved up to wipe her tears; but the more she wiped, the more came out. The more she sobbed.

He had seen her cry a thousand times before, and each time, he never knew what to do. Instinctively, he pulled her close, and let her head rest upon his chest. He let her cry onto him.

She clutched at his shirt. He no longer wore his old Sound uniform or the Akatsuki robe. He had left them all behind. He was only dressed in a white cotton shirt, and a light sweater, and black loose pants. Easy for travelling. But he also never wore his clan's emblem anymore.

He left them all behind.

He noticed that their height proportion never changed. Of course, they had grown taller, but she still stood just below his shoulders, that if he would, his chin could perfectly rest on her head. Could easily take in the scent of her hair.

She never stopped crying, though. So he moved his hands down and took hold of her fingers, intertwining it with his. She gripped as her sobs grew louder. He didn't grip back; he didn't know how to respond. He just allowed her to clasp harder until his fingers turned numb.

His chest was wet with her tears, but despite that, he felt warm. And he never felt so warm before, and he never had held another human being as close as he held her now.

And he felt warm.

And he wanted to fix her.

For he longed for that cheery smile pasted back on her soft lips again, and that lively eyes dance with the cherry blossoms of spring. But was he enough to do it? Was he worthy to be the one who'd to that for her?

He didn't know. But she held on to him like she needed him too much. Though, was she even aware that he was Uchiha Sasuke? The one she had learned to despise through the years of constant hate?

Because in truth, he realized just now that he needed her as much as he wanted to admit.

Visits from the other side of this door, it begins. A long, long story about you.

AN: I didn't know I'd be updating this so soon! XD Like what I have said in my Profile Page, this won't be the last chapter. One more chapter, I think. But I guarantee lemons next *sweatdrop* Hopefully, well-written... hahaha!

Thanks for those who read this fic, reviewed it, faved and added it to their alerts. Thank you for your time, and for making me smile with your reviews. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. It made me sad, really sad. But I hope you like it.

Chapter Title: Owari - End in

Title Reference: Kimi Monogatari (The Story about You) - Naruto Shippuuden 3rd Ending (last sentence is a line from said song)

Standard disclaimer applies! Enjoy! :3