project: fifty days
disclaimer: i do not own naruto, or the characters in it.
summary: "in fifty days, uchiha sasuke will be executed." for fifty days, she will visit him. for fifty days, he will fall steadily in love.
pairings: sasuhina, some naruhina
notes1: "kindofnotreally romances for the win."
notes2: "don't expect any fairytale endings here."
chapter: o6/5o

Aburame Shino did not speak to many people.

In fact, when he was not training with his teammates, or completing a mission for his village, he spent most of his time alone, in his room; he was most comfortable there. He did not get lonely easily. In all honesty, it was very difficult to get lonely, since he had a variety of insects living inside his body—breathing in time with his breathing, hearts thumping in perfect synchronization.

No, Shino treasured solitude above all else in his life, excluding his friends and family—and, of course, excluding his precious bugs—because he never was alone. He did not particularly think of them as 'bugs'. The word seemed vile and ugly. It was wrong. It certainly did not describe the beautiful, intelligent insects living inside his body.

He classed them as his 'friends', along with Hinata and Kiba and all of the other shinobi he associated with on a regular basis.

Although he would never tell either of his teammates, he was entirely certain he knew more about the insects living inside of him more than he did about them. It had nothing to do with which he liked better—when it came to that competition, Hinata won by a landslide (perhaps due to the fact that he had once been irrevocably in love with her), followed closely by Kiba—it was simply due to the fact that the insects were there all of the time. The insects never left. Sometimes, a few would leave, to pollinate plants or mate; even so, half would remain behind, feasting on chakra, relaxed and peaceful.

They did not speak; in fact, it was more of a vibe the bugs gave out. At first, it would be a low, dull hum, which signalled content; he heard this noise every minute of every single day. His father, after he had once complained about it, explained that he would simply have to get used to the noise.

When the insects were angry, the buzz grew louder. It became more of a pulse then. It would send chills through his body and make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, almost like static electricity. When the insects were ready to attack, the pulse would become unbearable; the insects would be moving about inside him, flitting around, unsettled and impatient. Pain, like a million pricks of a pin, would fill his body. He dealt with it, though, because that was what shinobi did.

Suffer in silence.

If there was one thing he had learnt from Hinata, it was that. Better to suffer in silence than speak to a friend—better to zip your lips than worry someone else. Yet still, he wished Hinata would talk to him, in the same way she spoke to Kiba—more like a brother, than a teammate. She would never admit it, but he was sure she was still scared of him.

Not only could Shino tell the insects emotions, they could also feel his. When he was upset, they throbbed. The noise dimmed down, but the insects kept moving—slowly, cautiously, as though they simply wanted to remind him that they were there, as his friends as well as weapons.

When he was happy, they sung.

The only downfall with the fact that his body was a host to living creatures was the constant noise. The humming—the buzzing. Although he knew he'd be much more upset when it finally vanished, when his days as a shinobi were finally over, he loathed it, and the constant ache in his head that came with it. Sakura had spent an amount of time attempting to find some kind of remedy to the constant headaches, which all of the Aburame clan suffered from, but it had been useless.

That day, Shino was lying on his back in his bedroom, across the floor, gazing at the ceiling. His tinted sunglasses were perched on a pile of books beside his bed, not too far to the left of his head; his hands were clasped across his chest, and he was breathing slowly. He traced the patterns on the ceiling for a moment, idly wasting time, waiting for something interesting to happen.

It did not happen often, but he was bored.

His eyes travelled across the ceiling and down the walls, resting briefly on each of his potted plants; expertly, his eyes scanned the soil, deciding whether or not it was moist enough. His father had explained the need for plants—or, more specifically, flowers—due to the fact that bees and wasps were often used for attacking. He was Ino's number one customer, she'd told him time and time again; despite the fact that it seemed embarrassing to admit, he'd been rather proud of that fact.

He heaved a sigh, his gaze flicking back to the ceiling. His bedroom wasn't the most interesting of places; it was dull, to say the least. There was one bookshelf, positioned in the right corner—one single bed, positioned below the window. One desk, complete with writing equipment and a chair. Then his wardrobe, beside the door, and a chest filled to the brim with weapons and shinobi gear, as well as any old treasures of his, such as a hairclip Hinata had given him, aged ten and a half, as well as a half-eaten dog treat, from the first time he'd met Kiba and Akamaru.

He was just about to lose himself in a memory, when there was a gentle knock upon his bedroom door. "Shino, there is someone here to see you," his father announced softly, his voice a low monotone.

Shino waited for a moment, silently wishing it was Hinata; no offence to Kiba, but he'd had enough of his loud, obnoxious voice when he'd visited him the last time, a few days ago. He scooped his shades of the floor, pushed them back onto his face, and then pulled himself up off the ground, dusting himself down as he straightened up. There was another knock at the door, this time timid, and he walked over, making sure to tug on his jacket as he did so.

He pulled open the door.

Hinata blinked back at him in surprise, taking in his jacket and his shades, and then smiled sheepishly. "Ah, I didn't know you were going somewhere, Shino—"

"Walk with me."

He placed his hand on her shoulder, easily manoeuvring himself around her, and then continued down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He heard Hinata follow him. He nodded briefly at his father as he passed, before stopping at the door to slip on his shoes and wait for Hinata to catch up. She did so, mumbling a nervous goodbye to his father as she passed him; Shino held open the door, like a true gentleman, waiting for her to pass.

And then they were both outside, walking shoulder to shoulder from the Aburame house towards the marketplace. Neither of them spoke, but that was okay—it was a comfortable silence, the kind that Shino rather enjoyed and never got if he walked with Kiba. He snuck a sideways glance at her, from behind his glasses; she was looking away, somewhere into the distance, and her eyes were troubled.

He frowned slightly. It was unusual. He knew Hinata well enough to know that she wasn't always a happy person—however, usually she hid her negative feelings better than that. He slowed to a halt and she did too, blinking back at him in confusion. "What is troubling you, Hinata?"

"…Uchiha Sasuke." She replied as though she hadn't heard the question. Shino could tell because, the moment she'd realised what she'd said, her eyes had turned wide and startled, and one hand had instantly flown up to her mouth.

He arched an eyebrow.

"I—I mean…! T—that's not…! Oh, I don't know what I m—mean…" Hinata sighed, brushing a few strands of hair away from her forehead and gazing at Shino. "It's just, ever since S—Sasuke was captured, N—N—Naruto barely comes out of his house. I d—don't know what to do—what to say—to make it all b—better."

But she was lying.

Shino could tell; her eyes flickered to the side as she spoke and her hands remained utterly still by her side. If there was one thing Hinata never stopped doing, it was fidgeting; and when she stopped fidgeting, something was truly bothering her. He wondered why she'd even bothered with the lie; he was her teammate—her friend —he knew her well enough to tell when something was wrong.

She obviously didn't want to talk about it, though, and he wasn't about to force her to do so. He wasn't completely overprotective of her; he wasn't her older brother or her boyfriend, and so he did not feel it was his duty to know everything about her. It was better that she had some secrets. After all, he had his.

And so he played along with the lie, nodding gently. "It is entirely normal for one who has lost a precious person to behave like this. Due to the fact that I have never had such an unfortunate thing happen to me, I cannot give you any advice on this matter. I assume Naruto will get used to the fact that Uchiha Sasuke will never be released."

He glanced at Hinata.

She was worried about Sasuke—although, of course, he should have expected as much from a girl like Hinata. She was the kind of person who had enough feelings to feel for everyone, if that even made sense; and, as Shino thought about it, it didn't really. But it was still true. As complex and unreasonable as the idea sounded, it summed Hinata and her aching heart up perfectly.

And that was what he truly loved about her.

He sighed softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Her eyes widened as she snuck a quick glance at him, and he could see the alarm bells ringing in her head. She knew he didn't believe her, but he was far too kind to mention it. He wanted to, more than anything—he wanted to place his hand on her shoulder and tell her she could tell him anything—and he knew Kiba would have done it—but he just couldn't.

Something in Hinata's eyes was telling him not to ask. And, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't. So he gave up, instead choosing to change the subject tactfully.

"…was there something you wished to ask me, Hinata?" He asked finally, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets and glaring sullenly away; to anyone else, it would have looked as though Shino were sulking. "After all, you did arrive at my house completely without warning."

She blinked and her gaze softened. For a second, she seemed thankful; her posture relaxed and she too placed her hands in her jacket pockets, albeit not for long—within seconds, she was tugging nervously on a strand of hair.

"Oh, I just w—wanted to see how you were. We haven't spoken in a w—while."

Then she flashed him that smile, and he felt his heartbreak all over again. She was too kind—unreasonably kind, to the point of being cruel—and the most ironic thing was the fact that she wasn't even aware of it. She wasn't at all aware of the fact that he'd dreamt only of her eyes and her smile and just her for five years of his life. She wasn't aware of the fact that he'd tripped head of heels in love with her at the age of thirteen, before finally giving up.

He did a lot of that, when it came to Hinata—giving up.

For a moment, he couldn't bring himself to reply; not because of anything sappy, like he felt too sad to or felt such overwhelming passion for her. It was due to the fact that he'd done it again; he'd given up, instead of being there for her, when what she really needed was a friend.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

He smiled slightly, pushing his shades back up his nose. "I am fine, Hinata. And yourself…?" He replied, and they began walking again, shoulder to shoulder, talking about nothing and everything all at once.

As he listened to her voice, the buzzing in his head died down to a low hum.

.

.

Hinata pressed her forehead against the cool glass of her bedroom window and heaved a sigh, smiling to herself as she closed her eyes. It had been nice to see Shino, that was true, but she hadn't really wanted to leave the house at all that day—she'd been feeling low. She shifted slightly, so that she was kneeling, and peered out of the window.

It had begun to rain; only slightly. It pattered across the ground, leaving a fine mist of water as it hit the paths; she watched idly as raindrops trickled down her window. Outside, Neji was stood with his female teammate, Tenten, holding an umbrella over her head—she was speaking animatedly but, no matter how much Neji gestured, was refusing to go inside. Hinata rolled her eyes, her smile widening slightly.

She liked Tenten. Tenten was the kind of girl who said whatever was on her mind; she was trustworthy and kind and, above all, completely honest. No matter who she spoke to, whether they were young or old, she could tell them things about themselves they'd never want to hear, without batting an eyelash. That didn't mean she was rude, or cruel—generally, she only said those things when she was asked to, or when the need arose. She didn't tend to speak to Hinata, unless she was waiting for Neji—but, when she did, she was entertaining, to say the least.

Tenten made Hinata wish she made more of an effort to speak to the other kunoichi; it seemed like fun to have a friend like that. A girl to talk to, to giggle with, to relax with after a mission—but she wasn't close enough to any of the girls in Konoha to do something like that. It seemed wrong—far too intimate for her to just join in.

The rain began to pick up. She huffed, leaning her elbow against the window and resting her chin on her hands. She watched, mildly interested, as Neji looked upwards, gazing at the dark clouds; and the rain trickled down his face, soaking his hair and dampening his clothes.

Tenten slapped his shoulder, scolding him. From her position, Hinata could almost make out the words but, knowing Tenten, Neji was probably being told off for standing out in the rain, without an umbrella. Sure enough, his teammate scooted closer towards Neji, tugging the umbrella over both of their heads—and Hinata watched as Neji tensed slightly, obviously concerned about the close contact. Then the playful bickering resumed, and he pushed the other lightly away, stepping backwards.

Hinata giggled, watching Tenten scowl and stomp her foot with an exaggerated playfulness. It was cute—they were cute, like something out of a book. They wouldn't be perfect together—no, she wasn't as cliché as to say something like that—but they'd be pretty close. Neji would enjoy his alone time, every now and then, sat there reading a book; and Tenten would hassle him and bother him until he finally gave in, closing the book with a snap and scolding her without any real malice.

They wouldn't be perfect together—not fairytale perfect, because everyone has their ups and downs—but Hinata was sure they'd be the closest thing, if they gave it a try.

But they wouldn't, not any time soon, at least; because Neji was far too proud and Tenten was far too stubborn. They'd talk and laugh and flirt, and Lee would ultimately end up feeling like the third wheel, the spare part, but they would never admit having any feelings, other than a sibling-like relationship, with the other.

The rain became almost torrential, within a matter of minutes. She watched as Neji placed the umbrella's handle in Tenten's hands, his fingers lingering against hers for just a moment longer than usual, before turning and walking away. She stood there, frozen for a second, before hastily shouting something about returning his umbrella. Neji just shrugged, his back to her, lifting a hand in farewell. Tenten span on her heels, biting her lip and smiling gingerly to herself, walking briskly in the opposite direction, clutching the umbrella tightly.

Hinata smiled, sliding away from the window and sprawling across her bed. She gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, unsure of what to do with herself, before sitting bolt upright. She was exhausted—she'd been far too stressed out lately, and she just wanted to have a little bit of fun, just for a little while.

And she knew exactly what she was going to do.

.

.

Kiba generally quite liked the rain. He liked the fact that it was cool against his skin—the fact that it splashed across the windowpanes and the ground and the plants—the fact that, once it was all done and over, it remained behind, as dew drops and puddles. He liked the fact that, when the sun and rain mixed, they created a rainbow.

It was simple and beautiful, but he awfully liked the rain.

He just didn't particularly like the idea of his best friend catching hypothermia, as he stood under cover in his doorway, watching as Hinata strolled idly around his backyard. He scratched awkwardly at Akamaru's ear, unsure of what to do.

She'd turned up at his door like usual, timid and pretty, blushing as he flirted casually with her, joking and pulling her hair every now and then. They'd retreated to his bedroom—after he'd insisted to both his mother and his sister that, no, he didn't want to take advantage of her, because he wasn't like that; which had amused Hinata to no end, as well as made her blush and look away. After talking for a while, about normal things; like what she'd done today and how much training he'd managed to do; she'd become fidgety—more so than usual.

She'd sat on his bed, looking anywhere but at him, playing with the hem of her jacket, and then her hair, and then pressing her fingers together with such force that her knuckles turned white. He'd raised an eyebrow.

"What's up?" He'd asked, all naïve and innocent and wondering what was going on.

And Hinata had gazed into dead into his eyes, before smiling.

"I w—want to go outside."

So he'd ended up chasing her down the stairs, informing her that maybe that wasn't the best idea, since it really was tipping it down—but Hinata hadn't wanted to listen. She'd bowed her head respectfully, before scooting past him and unlocking the door to the garden. He'd watched in utter disbelief as she'd wandered outside.

She was soaked within minutes.

And so now he was waiting for her to tire herself out—waiting for her to eventually get bored of gazing at flowers and rosebushes. He watched as she walked around in a full circle, her hands swinging beside her, gazing at everything with disinterest—and then she stopped. She tilted her head back, and her hair fell away from her face.

Standing completely still in the middle of Kiba's garden, Hinata tilted her head back and simply let the rain fall across her face.

Kiba raised an eyebrow, folding his arms and staring curiously at his friend. This wasn't like Hinata—as she stood there, her shoulders tensed and her hands balled into fists. It was as though she'd realised something—realised something bad—and Kiba understood why she'd appeared at his front door.

She wanted to forget about the bad thing, if only for a little while.

"What happens when you get to know someone, but you know you'll never truly be their friend because they'll be gone before you know it?"

Kiba blinked, surprised at how clear and steady her voice was—he could hear it over the rain; it was her voice, even so. High-pitched. No stuttering, which meant she was utterly serious. He frowned, reluctant to come out from underneath the cover of his doorway—but then Hinata glanced briefly at him, and lilac eyes captured his.

"How does that story end?"

He cursed softly underneath his breath, threw up one hand to cover his head to the best of his ability, and then wandered out into the rain, as quickly as he could. He reached Hinata within seconds. Up close, she was no where near as collected as she'd seemed—her clothes were soaked through and she was shivering; but her eyes were steady and firm, even though her bottom lip wobbled.

He crossed his fingers that she wouldn't cry—because he hated it when girls did that—and wrapped his arms cautiously around her. Almost instantly, he felt her fingers clutch the back of his shirt, and her shaking became more obvious.

He glanced upwards, briefly, wondering what to do—and then, without really understanding it, he stepped backwards, pulling Hinata with him. Then to the side—then forwards; travelling around the garden in a box shape, all the while holding her close. He continued for a second, before she peered up at him, one eyebrow arched.

"What are you d—doing?"

Her stutter had arrived—he found himself relieved. She was probably okay now. He grinned at her, baring his teeth. "I'm dancing with a pretty lady, duh."

He returned to stepping again, concentrating on moving in a circle and not stepping on her feet—he gingerly pulled one of her hands from his back, latching them together. Then he continued, keeping time to a rhythm in his head. One step, two step, three step, turn—one step, two step, three step, turn.

Kiba scowled, his nose twitching as he frowned in disgust.

"…dancing is harder than I thought."

He was glad to hear Hinata laugh; a nice little giggle, which turned into a full happy laugh, her shoulders shaking with joy instead of sadness. His grin widened, and he grasped her hand, spinning her easily on the spot—for a few seconds, she came close to toppling; then she steadied herself and curtseyed sweetly, before breaking into giggles.

He grinned, pulling her back towards him and returning to his dance, as the rain soaked them; it was getting colder, and darker, and he couldn't help but wonder how long they'd been out there. He shrugged to himself, still smiling—whatever, it didn't matter; it was his job to cheer up Hinata, when she was blue.

After all, if he didn't do it, who else would? Shino was a nice guy and all, but he was always so caught up with the past—dreaming of dreams that would never come true, or something. He'd had that childish crush on Hinata for the best part of his Genin years, and Kiba didn't really think he'd quite gotten over it. Sometimes, when the other thought no one was watching, Kiba spotted the other boy staring at her.

…then again, that could be nothing.

Shino stared at everyone.

All of a sudden, Hinata pushed away, her eyes wide and filled with horror, as though she'd remembered something awful. She took a few steps backwards, moving towards the door.

Kiba raised an eyebrow. "…what? Do I stink, or something?"

She giggled despite herself, placing one hand elegantly over her mouth as she did so. "No, it's n—nothing like that, Kiba. I just… I just r—remembered I promised to do something for a… a f—friend. And, if I don't hurry, I'm g—going to be too late to do it. I think that would r—really upset him."

He blinked.

…him?

He didn't get a chance to ask Hinata though because, when he looked up, she'd disappeared, and the backdoor was swinging open in the wind. She'd no doubt trekked mud all through the house—there'd probably be puddles of water waiting for him to clear up, before his mother realised and started attacking him with cooking utensils again. Sometimes, it really sucked to have a kick-ass kunoichi as a mother.

Then again, it'd meant he never got bullied as a kid.

.

.

Ibiki raised an eyebrow at the completely drenched girl in front of him—she was clutching her jacket around her body, shivering profoundly and biting her lip. Her hair clung to her forehead, sopping wet, and she flicked it out of her vision half-heartedly, obviously longing to be back at home, in the warmth.

"…I thought you weren't going to show."

Hinata sighed, hopping from one foot to the other, rubbing her hands on her arms. "Stop saying that, I—Ibiki. I'm always going to show."

He rolled his eyes. "Really, now? And nothing I can do will change your mind, right?"

Ibiki rolled his eyes again at her firm nod, smiling slightly.

"Ah, whatever. You're a stubborn kid, Hinata, but you're not that bad. I kind of like you, in fact, and it'd really suck if you caught hypothermia. The least you could have done was change into dry clothes. What have you done all day, just stood out in the rain?"

She glanced sheepishly away. "…it was n—nice this morning."

Ibiki barked a laugh and Hinata instantly flinched away.

"Never trust the weather—it's like a woman."

.

.

Sasuke gazed up from underneath his fringe, watching as Hinata settled herself into her usual position. She was soaked—completely drenched. Briefly, he wondered what she'd been doing, but he saw from her flushed cheeks that it was no doubt something entertaining, probably with her friends.

"…I thought you weren't going to show."

She huffed indignantly, crossing her arms and pouting childishly. "Why do people keep on s—saying that?"

He chuckled, shaking his head gently, before shifting slightly, attempting to get comfortable; it was difficult, in a straightjacket. He found himself missing the brief moment when he'd been let out of the cursed thing, despite the fact that it had been to get tortured—at least his arms had had a moment to breathe. He hissed a curse beneath his breath, though it was muffled by the glass.

He still saw Hinata frown slightly.

"…Sasuke…? Are you a—alright?"

She leaned forwards, attempting to get a better look at him, and he knew she was looking for more signs of torture. He scowled; from being an S-rank missing nin, he'd fallen to being cared for by a trembling, stuttering kunoichi?

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

"I'm fine."

Hinata looked crestfallen. "…oh."

They both fell silent, gazing in opposite directions. Sasuke scowled, glowering sulkily at the wall above her head—out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the first ANBU shake her head slowly, before leaving the room and beckoning for her fellow ANBU to follow her.

Sasuke's scowl intensified.

That probably meant it was time for him to apologise, right? To change the subject and ask her about her day, or something. He didn't know—he didn't particularly care. He'd had time to think about it and, the more he thought about it, the more he thought this entire visitor thing was a stupid idea.

Firstly, he should never have shoved that kind of responsibility on Hinata. She had to take an hour out of each day to speak to a dead man, about things she probably didn't even care about. She had friends. She had a family. It was probably morally wrong and selfish of him to blackmail her into visiting him each day, using the fact that he was—used to be—Naruto's best friend.

And secondly, he was Uchiha Sasuke. He'd killed Itachi. He'd killed Orochimaru. He'd killed a member of the Akatsuki. He'd accomplished more than she'd ever do in her lifetime, no doubt. And yet, she was the one concerned over his wellbeing?

She was the one protecting him?

It was a major blow to his pride—it was stupid and foolish, and he was childish for believing that they'd ever become friends in such a short space of time. He was childish for thinking he'd get anything out of her visits, as well.

And then she spoke, and he made himself forget about all of that, because he did like the sound of her voice, even if her stutter annoyed him.

"Do you l—like the rain, Sasuke?"

He paused, his eyes flickering to her face; then he shrugged as best as he could in his restraints. "It means nothing to me. I don't like it, but I don't dislike it."

"I used to r—really love the rain. I used to spend ages outside, in my wellingtons, and I u—used to stomp in all of the puddles and j—jump for joy whenever I saw a r—rainbow. Kiba told me once that r—rainbows are the most beautiful things he's ever s—seen, because they're so simple. He said that they shimmer and s—shine in the sky; and the flowers can be as p—pretty as they want to be, and Ino can wear the fanciest c—clothes and the most make-up; but simple is much p—prettier. It's beautiful. That's why r—rainbows are beautiful. And that's why I l—like the rain. Because as miserable as it m—makes you feel, and as cold as you get, y—you know there's always going to be a r—rainbow at the end of it all."

Hinata fell silent, clasping her hands and gazing down at her feet; it was in that way that she reminded him of a young child. She could say something so enchanting and intelligent, but still she'd gaze downwards, obviously seeking approval. Waiting to know if what she'd said was right. Waiting to apologise if she was wrong.

Sasuke smirked. "Is that so?"

"…It's what K—Kiba said."

"…really? Because, if I remember correctly, Kiba was a complete moron, just like Naruto, who could barely string a sentence together," Sasuke stated blankly, "right?"

"K—Kiba isn't a m—moron!"

"…of course."

Hinata frowned at him, her eyebrows meeting neatly in the middle of her forehead as she attempted to think of an intelligent comeback. It was true—the concept of the idea had been Kiba's, but the words were hers. Her friends had always said she was good with words; Neji had said it was a skill she possessed.

She didn't really believe that to be true, but she wasn't about to complain.

She met Sasuke's mocking gaze, still searching for something she could say to turn the entire conversation around in Kiba's favour, but came up with nothing. She settled for folding her arms and sulking, kicking her legs backwards and forwards and thinking of something else to say.

"You're right."

She blinked, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow at Sasuke. "…about Kiba?"

Sasuke rolled his eyes. "About rainbows. They are beautiful, that's true—but they fade away all too quickly. You have to sit through hours of rain, just to see a few minutes of beauty?"

Silence, and then—

"…is it really worth it?"

Hinata's eyes widened, as she remembered her words from earlier.

"How does that story end?"

She paused, uncertain of what to say; it wasn't the type of question she could answer. It was confusing; it was one of those questions with far too many answers. A simple yes would no doubt suffice, and an equally simple no would probably work just as well.

But there wasn't a simple answer, to either question.

And so she simply smiled, standing up and slipping off her jacket—she balled the sleeves up in her fists, wringing them out, before repeating the actions with the rest of her jacket, until it was only damp. She dusted herself down, despite the fact that there was no need to, and walked towards the door. When she reached the door, she glanced backwards, over her shoulder, and flashed another sweet smile at Sasuke.

"That's your own opinion, Sasuke—you decide."

.

.

As she stepped out of the prison, into the fresh air, she realised it wasn't raining. Grey clouds remained in the sky, hanging above her ominously, threatening to burst at any moment—but as she strolled home, the birds sang and the sun shone.

A rainbow stretched overhead.

It shimmered in the sunlight, beautiful, its colours arching over Konoha—and then, slowly, gradually, it began to fade away.

And it began to rain again.