Title: Functionally Sentimental

Summary: The question is not where a thing is hidden, but how one hides it.

Prompt: Keepsake

Warnings:

Comments: Takes place immediately after the last prompt. Please let me know what you think of this one! I'm really curious to hear people's reactions.

"You're going to have to stay at my house for the night, Sasuke-kun," Sakura said quietly. "After tonight, I'm not sure I trust the innkeepers not to let assassins into your room."

"Fine."

"I also want to do a quick check up on you. That smoke was really thick, and Kami-sama knows what might have been in it."

"Aa."

"Well, here we are," she said as they arrived to her doorway. "If you would sit on the couch for now, I just need to grab a stethoscope. But you'll have the bed later, promise!"

When Sakura came back, Sasuke had seated himself in the center of the couch. "Sasuke-kun? Would you lift up your shirt? I need to check your breathing."

He did as told, pulling the cloth up just enough so Sakura could sneak the round end under and place it over his lungs. His skin contracted briefly at the feel of the cold metal and then settled.

"Now, please breathe in. And out." He did so, watching the way Sakura's head would tilt ever so slightly as she listened to his even breathing. Satisfied, she removed the device and said, "Good, I'm going to listen from your back this time. Same procedure."

Several more seconds of silence passed, and then she put the stethoscope away for good. "Thankfully, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong. Now that that's over with, I'm going to make us tea." And she jumped up and headed toward the kitchen.

With Sakura out of the room, Sasuke's mind returned back to the scene at his apartment. He was furious, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to leave now and avenge himself. And yet, he knew he couldn't—not if he wanted the chance to change the village. Not if he wanted to become Hokage. For his brother, he swore he would change this village, this time through a less destructive path. For Itachi.

You need to trust us to do the right thing, just as we must trust you not to turn on us, Tsunade had said at his hearing.

Eyes closed as he wrestled with his anger, he only barely registered Sakura return to the room.

"Sasuke-kun?" He looked up in surprise. Sakura was seated next to him, eyes curious. "May I ask a question—and you don't need to answer it if you don't want to. It's just I was curious about it and—"

"What, Sakura?"

"Um… Why did you go back for your bag? I mean, I understand how it might have some supplies… an extra change of clothes, maybe… but the way you ran for it makes me think, well that there was something special about it. A-and that's fine! That's actually really cool, actually, because I didn't think it was possible anymore for you to, um, y'know, care about something. Oh Kami, I didn't mean to say that. I'm so sorry! That came out so wrong—"

"It's not what's in the bag," Sasuke said quietly. He wasn't sure why he was telling her. He'd never told anyone, had felt no compulsion to tell her until she'd started rambling in such a Sakura way.

You need to trust us.

"As shinobi, we have no room for objects with sentimental value. In fact, personal things can lead to recognition and worse. So we are told never to bring keepsakes along for missions." He picked up his bag as Sakura looked on with wide eyes. "But I was ten when my family was murdered. I couldn't cut those ties no matter how hard I tried. This bag is all I have left of my home."

Running a hand over the lip, he paused at the intricate clasp holding it shut. Unable to stop herself, Sakura moved closer to get a better look. From her new vantage point, she realized it was an arrowhead, worn down from near constant rubbing. "My first kill. We were hunting a deer, and I managed to pierce its skull. My father dug this arrowhead out afterwards and told me to keep it as a reminder."

He undid the clasp and flipped it open. Sakura could barely make out the inside of the bag, but to her surprise, Sasuke seemed more interested in feeling along the sides of it. "I had a stuffed dinosaur I used to carry around all the time," he admitted. "It was too big to carry around after… so I went to a tanner and got them to line the inside of this bag with his fur for all the time I needed reassurance."

Closing it, he said a little more swiftly, "The fabric is from my mother's old kunoichi vest. She'd always taken pride in its sturdiness, and it smelled of her for a long time. I have nothing from Itachi though. All of his gifts, his memories, I threw out as soon as I could." Sasuke paused, exhaling deeply. "I regret that now.

"To anyone else, this is just a bag. It fulfills its purpose as a container. But to me, it will always mean something more. It's all I have left of my family."

Unable to contain her tears further, Sakura threw her arms around him, catching him off guard. "Thank you, Sasuke-kun. Thank you for telling me this. I-it means a lot. I-I know we'll never be able to replace your family, but I swear, I swear, we'll do our best to be your new family," she sobbed into his shirt. Almost immediately afterwards, she let go, cheeks flaming. "A-anyways, I should go to sleep. I need to be up early tomorrow. Um, I'll see you in the morning, I guess. Good night, Sasuke-kun."

He watched as she tottered off to bed, still occasionally wiping her eyes. He still wasn't sure what had induced him to reveal one of his best kept secrets, but he found that he didn't regret doing so. Her reaction, as soggy as it was, had also been comforting. It'd brought out a part of Sakura he'd believed to be long dead. Absentmindedly, he reached into the recess of the bag, hands easily finding one of its many secret pouches. His hands closed on the two thin sheets there, and he pulled them up.

They were two photographs. One was marred by its dark colors. All dark blues and blacks. A frowning father. A smiling mother. And a brother torn between two worlds. Kami knew how often he'd traced over each figure. Desperately wishing he could see them one last time. But they were gone for good.

He turned his attention to the second photograph. Taken some years later, this picture was far more colorful. Pink and orange and green looked back at him. Unbidden, a small smile crossed his lips.

A new family, huh?