soft day
pt. 4: blossoms
A pounding knock interrupts Sasuke's quiet morning. He hopes it's not Kakashi, tired of the radio silence, here to slap the mission scroll in his hand and drag him to the Hokage tower himself. Thankfully only one person he knows would knock this obnoxiously.
As he twists the knob, the door bursts open as if caught in a gale.
"You!" Naruto shouts. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you live in the same building as Sakura!"
Sasuke scowls. "You didn't tell me either. Remember?"
"You never gave me your damn address until two days ago!" The blond stomps inside, sandals clapping on the hardwood.
"Take off your shoes, idiot!" He just mopped!
Naruto dodges the elbow aimed for his ribs. "Well, I like what you've done with the place. It's very…" He squints to scrutinize his surroundings, snapping his fingers. "Clean. But that's not a bad thing."
"Thanks?"
"Nice view, too."
"Yeah," Sasuke concedes. It's a cool, overcast day outside—perfect for training. "You down to spar?" His muscles have been itching to move, and it's been too long since he's had a sparring partner.
"Oh, um…" A sandalled foot starts tapping an antsy rhythm into the floorboards. "Yeah. Maybe."
Sasuke frowns with growing suspicion. "What?"
The tapping grows louder. "Huh?"
"Why are you here?"
"I can't stop by to see my friend?" Naruto flashes a smile that vanishes too quickly.
Sasuke stares, waiting for him to spit it out.
"Well, actually…" Naruto rubs the back of his neck. "I have a message from Kakashi. He wants to meet with you."
Sasuke tastes bitterness on his tongue. "When?"
"Uh, now."
Sasuke closes his eyes, taking a deep breath through the nose, out through the mouth. "He won't leave me alone." The left side of his face tingles with the memory of a burn. "I told him I'm not taking missions."
"Yeah, teme. I heard." Pity drips from Naruto's face. "And I get it."
Naruto's mouth twists, and a sudden charge to the air raises the hair on the back of Sasuke's neck. He knows what's coming.
"But— "
"Don't make me explain," Sasuke warns.
The village has abandoned and failed both of them, yet the experience shaped them differently. Sasuke is still angry. And Naruto still loves this place. Which means he doesn't always…understand. They're both hardheaded, in their own ways. Certain things they'll never agree on.
Yes, Naruto is sympathetic. He feels bad, because he knows Sasuke's upset. But he also thinks that at the end of the day, Sasuke should put aside his feelings, and take the mission for the greater good.
Sasuke does not see the great or the good. What he sees is empty streets, a dried-up lake, the weeds choking up his mother's flower garden.
"I said no," he says, softer.
Here's where Naruto may have tried to push harder, in the past. Now his eyes pinch up in the corners, as if he's tired. "I'm sorry." He does look sorry. "Kakashi's waiting in the tower."
"Just where I want to be. Perfect." Sasuke truly wants nothing less than to walk into Konoha's most esteemed government building.
"I'll walk you." Naruto clops out into the hallway. He never did take his sandals off. "If you're with me, no one will bother you."
As they trek through the village civic center, Naruto's presence does seem to repel the whispers and loaded stares that are usually sent Sasuke's way. But the opinions of strangers have never done much to sway or upset Sasuke, beyond occasionally getting on his nerves. What makes him upset is that he has to have this conversation to begin with. That he's about to be asked for more, when he's already given his answer loud and clear.
At the highest level of the Hokage tower, an ornate set of double doors guard the entrance to Kakashi's office. Naruto claps his shoulder. "Good luck."
Sasuke nods his thanks and steels himself before reluctantly creeping inside.
A gleaming wooden desk lurks before enormous windows which would normally offer a stunning view of the village. Today, a dark fog presses so close to the glass that Sasuke swallows a trickle of claustrophobia. It eerily reminds him of the lightless, cavernous halls of Orochimaru's underground hideout.
"It's good to see you." A pile of paperwork shifts across the desk's surface to reveal Kakashi's wry smile. "The weather's looking quite gloomy today, don't you think? Monsoon season's on its way."
Sasuke's already seen his old sensei a handful of times since he's returned, and he's not in the mood for small talk. "What is this about?"
"Your new mission assignment. Did you think if you kept ignoring it that it would disappear?"
Sasuke grits his teeth. He doesn't appreciate the dry humor. "I thought I said I didn't want to be assigned any missions."
"Sadly, it's not up to you." Kakashi shuffles a mess of paper to his right and unearths a mission scroll. "There's an offshoot of Akatsuki supporters, a typical extremist group, gaining power in the northwest. You've been chosen to squash it."
He holds out the scroll, but Sasuke doesn't budge. "Why me? Naruto's the better choice." It would be far more symbolic and publicly appealing if the golden village hero, the very person who took down the Akatsuki, carried out the mission. "He's the face of the village."
"That may be true—but the elders want a more threatening show of power."
"Is a jinchuriki not threatening enough?"
"The elders want to show the world that the Rinnegan's power belongs to Konoha," Kakashi says, and outrage bursts like a bright light in Sasuke's vision. The last time he checked, the Rinnegan was lodged in his eye socket. "And you need to prove your loyalty to the village."
"I don't care about proving my loyalty," Sasuke snaps, "and the elders are lucky I haven't killed them for what they did—"
"I know you have a lot of strong feelings towards this village."
A noise of disgust rips from Sasuke's chest.
In a blink, Kakashi flicks off the tongue-in-cheek attitude, lowering his voice. "Distrust it, hate it, I don't care. How could I blame you for that?"
Sasuke stares stubbornly at the floor. The carpet beneath his feet is plush and spotless, the color as deep and red as blood.
"But the truth is, in the eyes of certain elders, you're hardly better than a war criminal. Taking missions when you're asked, doing this dirty work, it's a requirement to keep you off the execution block as long as you're here in the village. And that's someplace I really don't want you to be. Do you understand? So please forgive me, but—" Kakashi lobs the scroll in Sasuke's direction with a quick flick of the wrist, "you're going."
Sasuke plucks the scroll from the air inches from his nose and follows through with a glare. "What if I don't?"
Kakashi's face slowly dissolves into a worn-out, sorrowful look that Sasuke remembers well from the weeks leading to his desertion of the village. The look of a teacher who thinks he's failed his students.
"Listen," he says, trying a gentler approach. "It doesn't make me happy, asking this of you." But Sasuke's already shoving his way through the heavy doors.
He was a fool, coming back here in the first place, thinking that the village might have changed after the war. But there's no long-lasting peace or happiness for him here. Sasuke feels a hot, jagged twist inside his chest. His view of the forest, meals with the dobe. Sleeping on Sakura's couch. He hasn't asked for much, and yet—it will all be taken from him regardless.
Escaping the Hokage tower, he storms down the first bend in the street without any care where he's going. Judging by the dark stares sent his way, he'll lower the average heart rate of the whole district the moment he's out of sight.
I'll walk you. If you're with me, no one will bother you. Naruto has invested the time to gain everyone's trust because he believes in this place.
What does Sakura think? She once offered to betray the village for him. Would she do it again? He chokes on a dry laugh.
"Sasuke!"
As if he's summoned her, Sakura manifests in his field of vision. She's wearing a jacket thrown over scrubs, the wires of a stethoscope peeking out below the collar. Sasuke blinks, regaining awareness of his surroundings. Konoha General's sprawling campus lies three blocks away. It's expanded exponentially since the last time he saw it. Sakura wrote something about that in her letters.
"Hey," she says.
He clears his throat. "Hey."
Good thing they're barely back on speaking terms, because he's in no shape to hold a conversation.
"You left your things in my fridge. Should I drop them off later?"
Sakura smiles at him, friendly in a way that acknowledges the joint they smoked and the breakfast they shared, but also slightly self-conscious, in a way that acknowledges that they've now seen each other's bedhead. Or perhaps, how a certain one of them may have gotten too high—Sasuke tries not to remind himself—and said some nonsensical things to the other.
It's still a rather warm smile. He feels completely thrown off balance. "No—don't bother."
"It's really no trouble."
"Keep it. You need it," he adds unthinkingly, because he's seen the state of her kitchen. "All you have is dust and chili oil."
Sakura lets out a small noise of protest. "That's not true!"
He almost winces, wondering if he's been stupid enough to insult her. But she's still smiling, a little wider now.
"I have dust, and chili oil, and alcohol."
Hearing the easy, lighthearted retort, warmth bubbles suddenly in Sasuke's stomach.
He turns a little so they're properly facing each other. "No instant ramen, though," he notes.
She scoffs loudly. "Of course not. Never."
"What a relief."
"So," her voice rings with a devious edge, "you sure you don't want your green onions?"
A tch escapes his lips before he can help it as Sakura's smile shines with victory and when was the last time she spoke to him so casually?
"I'm sure."
"Then…I accept! Thanks! Did you water my little herb garden, by the way?"
He glances away. "It was looking dry."
"Dry and sad, I know. I haven't touched it in ages. I'm surprised it's still alive!"
This is going well. Too well. A knot wedged in the blade of Sasuke's shoulder prickles, the weight of the day making itself known again. Better not push his luck. He carefully brushes past her, praying it doesn't come off as rude. "I'm heading home."
"Sure..." A damp note of disappointment seeps into Sakura's voice. "See you."
Sasuke hasn't had a great day, and he probably isn't the greatest company at the moment. He doesn't know why he turns around, except for the feeling that if he leaves now, he's leaving behind an offering he's been waiting for.
"Are you coming?" he says.
Sakura's eyes widen before she springs forward. "Oh—yeah!"
Now all he needs to do is respond normally to everything she says and make sure his face reveals none of the thoughts spiraling in his head.
"The sun's finally coming out," Sakura comments, shading her eyes.
"Aa," he responds.
"So, how's your day?"
Just respond normally.
"...Fine."
"Just fine?" Sakura pedals forward to catch a better glimpse of his face. "Is everything okay?"
Fuck. The last thing he should do is bring up his troubles, yet again. He picks up the pace. "How's the hospital?"
Sakura's eyes narrow—he wasn't exactly subtle about the misdirection—but still answers. "It's great." Her voice takes on an artificial, professional brightness, like she's in the middle of an interview, or an important presentation. Seconds later, she seems to remember she's not in the middle of either, and an absent frown grows on her face. "It's…good. We were really operating as a skeleton's crew, for a while. Things are better. But there's still a lot of work to do."
He thinks. "The village has always had a shortage of medics. Is that still the case?"
"The new medic training program has already helped a lot with that. The next class is graduating in two weeks."
"How did that start?" he asks, because he has a suspicion.
Sakura's shoulders straighten. "I started it." Pride glimmers in her gaze.
The desire to smile catches Sasuke off guard.
He remembers her empty fridge, dying flowers, and piles of paperwork, considers the dark circles under her eyes, and takes a gamble. "So when can you stop overworking yourself?"
"Who said I'm overworked?"
Sasuke raises an eyebrow at the collar of her jacket.
Sakura finally notices the stethoscope still slung around her neck and stuffs it into her pocket with a sigh. "A few more years—don't give me that look."
Sasuke knows he can come across to other people as cold or disinterested. To be fair, he usually is. Intentionally. With great pride. But here's proof he can keep a conversation moving when he wants to. "And the pediatric wing?" he says. "Is it open yet?"
"It opened this winter." The tree-lined street casts dappled shadows across Sakura's face. "How did you know about that?"
By the time Sasuke realizes his mistake, it's too late. From the tone of her voice, she already knows the answer. And his long silence all but gives him away.
"My letters," she answers for him, voice tight. "You read them."
Sasuke's stomach tangles worse than the electrical wires overhead, and his shoulders tighten with bitter, shameful defensiveness. Anger cuts through his voice. "Do you think I used them as kindling?"
Sakura stares straight ahead. "I don't know what to think."
Blood rushes to Sasuke's ears. What's worse: allowing her to believe that he tossed the letters away unopened? Or telling her the truth? Up ahead, a falling maple leaf tumbles through the air in a dizzying, nonsensical path. How does he even begin, with the truth, whatever it is?
Sakura side-steps to avoid a tree root pushing up the cobblestones, hands digging into her pockets. "You wrote to the others…and stopped writing to me. Did I do something wrong?" She halts in her tracks, and looks to him for confirmation. Besides the overly bright sheen to her eyes, she seems calm. "Was I bothering you? Is that what happened?"
Sasuke feels his entire face twist, and the air in his lungs turns sharp and cold.
"No—that's not what happened." He doesn't remember deciding to speak—only feels the ache ringing through his frozen chest once the words have left his tongue. "You did nothing wrong."
For a short, wavering moment, Sasuke stares down at his sandals and picks apart what he's said. When he looks up, Sakura's brows are knit together, but the slope of her shoulders has softened. He allows himself a small exhale of relief. At least, at the very least, he's managed to say one thing right.
"Then...I don't understand," she says.
He's in the woods, pen gripped in a paralyzed hand. Ink drips onto a blank page. The longer he waits, the more layers of earth build over the words he wants to say, until they're buried in him deeper than an ancient ruin. Can he really do this?
His fist curls. Spit it out.
"Sakura…" he breathes, just as a set of voices tread into earshot.
A trio of silk-clad elders are worming their way around the street corner, holding a conversation in long, drawling tones. Even from a distance, Sasuke recognizes their faces from the court hearings he endured after the war. Inside the pocket of his cloak, the mission scroll burns against his side like a brand.
They haven't spotted him yet. Sasuke turns on his heels and veers down a winding side-street, unsure if Sakura will even follow.
"Something's bothering you."
Sakura falls into step beside him, matching his pace with a determined expression. He's surprised to hear no mention of their earlier conversation. For whatever reason, she's decided it can wait.
"It's nothing," he responds, too stiff to be convincing.
Something has changed. There's a new steadiness and surety in the way Sakura is now looking at him—no longer in quick glances, but until she's fully sated each time.
"Are you sure?" Her gaze darts to the retreating forms of the council members and back again to his face. He almost squirms, not prepared for the full focus of her stare. "It's them, isn't it?"
Sasuke's pulse jumps, but he doesn't confirm or deny. They're walking fast down the dim, narrow street, and yet he can easily pick out the flecks of gold shimmering in her green irises, the freckles scattered across her nose like the geometry of a familiar constellation, her chapped lips—
"Your eyes," Sakura prompts, with sudden softness.
Sasuke blinks off the sharingan that he did not mean to activate, and the world around him settles back into normal, human clarity.
"What's going on?" she asks.
Maybe it's because he was preparing to tell all—or at least try—that he answers so readily. "The council's forcing a mission on me."
"A mission…" Sakura seems to consider this. "You don't want to take it?"
"No," he says. "I told them."
She nods once, needing no further explanation, and perhaps this is what leads Sasuke to speak freely, to enter a territory neither of them have dared to breach with one another.
He lowers his voice to nearly a whisper. "After what they did…I can't…"
After a pause, a little crease grows between her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
Sasuke waits for comprehension to sink in. And waits.
He feels a shortness of breath. "My clan…"
Water trickles in the gutter beneath their feet. Sakura continues looking at him like he's a patient she can't diagnose.
"You don't know."
He doesn't believe it, even as he says it aloud. Any moment now, her eyes will light with understanding.
Sakura shifts uncomfortably, unease bleeding over her face. "Know…what?"
Sasuke's stomach hollows out.
"Shit," he says.
She really…doesn't know? All this time, and no one told her? His mind spins, repainting a slew of memories in this new light.
Sakura scans his face. She seems far more concerned about his distress than her being left in the dark. "Let's go home."
The rest of the walk is a blur. His blood pumps with queasy, nervous adrenaline. Has he ever needed to explain the truth to anyone before? Everyone important—namely Naruto and Kakashi—were already in the know without Sasuke needing to say a thing. He's always assumed Sakura was part of that package deal.
When they reach the seventh floor, Sakura takes a right instead of a left and walks with Sasuke straight to his door. Sasuke fumbles with the lock and leaves the door open behind him for Sakura to interpret however she wants. When it creaks shut, he half-expects to see her gone.
Instead she's glancing around the apartment, which probably seems familiar to her. Her mouth quirks. "Nice place."
Sasuke's throat feels almost too dry to swallow. "My view is better."
Sakura kicks off her shoes and pads to the balcony doors. "It's so pretty, seeing the forest this high up."
It's kind of her to make soothing small talk instead of pressing for answers. "Go outside, if you want. I'll meet you."
He crosses into the kitchen for water and an excuse to steady himself. As the sink runs, his eyes keep sliding to the drawer that holds Sakura's letters, then over to the balcony.
It's strange to see another person out there. Sakura has her elbow propped on the table, leaning her cheek into one hand. A light breeze is lifting up her hair.
Sasuke takes a moment to figure out how to carry two glasses of water with one arm before joining her. Sakura smiles as she takes the cup that's pinned between his forearm and chest, allowing him to set down the one in his hand with ease.
This is what he's wanted, if he's being honest. To sit in this spot with her.
It's too bad he can't enjoy it.
"There's something you should know," he says.
A harsh gust of wind rips leaves from tree branches. Sakura seems to be holding her breath. It's as if she knows to brace herself for life-shattering news.
He tells her.
When it's over, she covers her mouth with a trembling hand to stifle a sob. "I can't…" Her voice breaks off. "I can't believe I didn't know. I'm—"
Dark, swollen clouds cross over the sun. She never reaches the end of her sentence.
"It's not your fault." Sasuke rubs the stump of his arm, aching suddenly in the oncoming cold front. "No one knows."
"I'm so sorry." Shaking hands curl in her lap.
It's a strange comfort that the truth is as horrifying to Sakura as it is to him. He's carried the burden on his own for so long he forgets how heavy it really is.
In the days and weeks after the massacre, Sasuke remembers village officials shuffling his seven-year-old self into a one-roomed apartment, leaving behind a pamphlet on familial loss. The pitiful looks aimed at the back of his head, or eyes sliding over him entirely. Parents tugging their children to the opposite side of the street as if he bore a curse.
So sometimes he wonders, if the truth ever does come out, would anyone care?
Sakura wraps her jacket tighter. "There's still something I don't understand."
Dread curdles his stomach. Besides his word, he doesn't have much in the way of evidence to offer.
Tears spill from her eyes, and her voice trembles from the effort of speaking. "Why would you ever come back to this place?"
Coming from the person who fought so hard to bring him back to this very place, it's not what he expected. At all.
Why has he come back to a place that doesn't want him? Outside the four walls of his small apartment above the treeline, there's little that brings him comfort. He had a home, once. It used to exist in the orderly, torch-lined streets of the Uchiha compound, the basket of fresh garden tomatoes the neighbors gifted on a whim, the northern constellations that drifted by Sasuke's bedroom window each night.
This village might be cruel—and it's also the only spot on earth where sometimes, when the wind blows just right, he can still taste a glimmer of home in the humid air.
The temperamental light of the approaching storm flickers over Sakura's face, all delicate angles and high cheekbones that she grew into some time while he was away and still feel new every time he looks. But those patient green eyes are the exact same.
"I needed something familiar," he says.
Sakura gives him a hesitant, watery smile. "If you really want something familiar, we can try to corner Kakashi and finally steal his mask."
He almost smiles in return. Then he remembers the weight of the mission scroll tucked in his pocket. "I thought they would leave me alone." He casts it onto the table. "I should have known better."
The scroll rolls over to Sakura's elbow. It's worse for wear, crumpled and singed in some places. She studies a burnt edge, lifts her gaze to study the healed side of his face, but doesn't comment.
"What will you do?" she says.
A stray raindrop darkens the concrete at the balcony's edge. "Nothing." Sasuke scowls. "What can they do to me?"
The village has no bargaining chip, nothing to hold over his head. They can't touch him.
"Just be careful, Sasuke-kun."
He doesn't hear the warning as much as he hears the affectionate ending ringing softly in his ears.
After all, if the worst comes to worst, he'll hit the road again. Though he feels reluctant to say this out loud.
"When you were traveling," Sakura says, "did you find anywhere you liked?"
How can she always tell when the thought of leaving crosses his mind?
At his silence, she tilts her head back to look at the sky. "I've been too busy here to see much of the world. To really see it. Missions aren't the same."
"I like the mountains. The ocean," he admits, feeling his tongue loosen. "And wherever I am, I always like the forest. No one else around. The trees over my head."
Thunder rolls in the distance. Storms are brewing up more and more frequently as they approach the rainy season. Sakura doesn't seem to notice she's shivering in her thin jacket.
"Let's go inside," he says. "You'll freeze."
The apartment is dark and quiet in the grey stormy light. Sasuke can barely make out the wet gleam of fresh tears on Sakura's cheeks. Will she be all right?
She looks up at him, arms twitching open as if to pull him into an embrace. Then she hesitates.
When they were genin, Sakura learned as quickly as anyone that he hated being touched. So if they hugged, it meant something bad had just happened. A near-death experience, an extreme injury, a curse mark. In those moments, she'd fling her arms around his neck with a choking hold and smush a tear-soaked cheek to his own.
But this time is different. There's no battle, no injury, no excuse. Her face is easy to read as she wars over whether to reach for him or not.
So Sasuke reaches for her. His lone arm drapes across her back, and he pulls her close. Sakura stiffens for a moment—is she so surprised?—then with a soft exhale, her arms circle tightly around him, and she buries her face into his shoulder.
Sasuke doesn't quite feel like he's made a mistake. But he does feel something shift, one small stone in a foundation pulled out of place, leaving everything a little crooked and unsteady. He thought he was doing this for Sakura alone—just a small token of kindness—but as she holds him, his own throat tightens. Has it always been so nice to be held?
"Thank you for telling me," she says, voice muffled.
He nods slowly into her hair.
With a squeeze, she lets him go. "Can I do anything for you?"
He thinks about asking her to come back, to rest her head against his shoulder in exactly the same way.
No—he is not even having this thought.
"I want to smoke." As soon as he says it, he realizes it's true. Before his brain spiraled into panic, the experience of being high was fascinating. Pleasant. Maybe if he has Sakura by his side the whole time, his anxieties might have more trouble finding him.
A brow raises. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Just stay with me."
"Right." Sakura seems slightly frozen. "Of course. I can do that."
The tips of Sasuke's ears grow hot as he revisits his wording. Whatever—he's not taking it back.
Back on the balcony, Sakura nimbly twists up the end of a joint as the tail end of the storm blows overhead.
She pats her jacket pocket. "Shit—I forgot a lighter."
"I'll do it," Sasuke says.
"Without burning the whole thing up?" From the tone of her voice, she holds very little confidence in him.
Well, now he needs to prove himself. He holds a hand out expectantly, wearing his best glare.
"Fine." Sakura rolls her eyes and drops it into his palm.
Sasuke gathers his concentration. The control it takes to summon such a gentle flame is surprisingly difficult. It's easier to call forth power and anger, to burn everything in his path to ashes.
An owl hoots from a nearby tree amid the soft patter of rain on leaves. He breathes in, asks his body to relax. Breathes out.
He feels a soft caress of warmth on his lips, then a curl of fire catches on the end of the joint. It burns brightly for a moment, and dissolves into a velvety smoke.
Sakura sighs in exaggerated relief.
"You doubted me," he accuses.
"A little," she says.
Sasuke rewards himself with the first hit wearing a smirk. There's a familiar burn from the smoke that doesn't catch him off guard this time. He does it again. Is it bad that he's enjoying this so much?
Sakura reaches for the joint with a sly smile. "When someone says you can't do it—that's when you try your hardest. It's funny."
To this annoying insight, Sasuke responds with a scoff. Even though she's not wrong.
They share in a comfortable silence, filled with the sound of drizzling rain and music drifting up from the open window of a nearby apartment. Sasuke closes his eyes and his breath catches.
He can see each note of the song burst into colors and textures beneath his eyelids. Is this normal? Or a sharingan thing? He watches, entranced as the colors shift and weave together. His brain so often behaves like his own enemy. He didn't know it could create something so purposelessly beautiful for him.
"Hey…" Can Sakura see the same thing?
Sakura's head turns, eyes bright and slightly unfocused. She's curled in the chair with her legs tucked beneath her, looking so comfortable and content sitting here in his favorite place, the forest canopy stretching out behind her like a dark green ocean. Something small, bright, and fierce bursts open inside Sasuke, like tiny flower blossoms popping open on a branch all at once.
A tear rolls down Sakura's cheek.
"Sakura?" he says, stomach dropping.
"I'm sorry. It's just—" Sakura's brow furrows up with sadness, and at the same time, a quiet joy blooms in her eyes. "You were smiling."
Sasuke doesn't trust himself to speak. How can such a small thing mean so much to her?
She breaks into her own smile, and reaches across the table to squeeze his cheek. "Do it again."
He scowls. "No." Catching her hand, he squeezes it tightly in his, holding on for longer than necessary.
Happy.
He's happy.
When Kakashi's hawk arrives the next day, he sends it back.
.
.
.
.
Notes:
thank you so much for reading!