soft day
pt. 8: rising mist
Naruto thrusts a long-necked green bottle in Sasuke's direction, already a guzzle or two of alcohol ahead. Sasuke drinks, mouth twisting at the taste, and hands the bottle to Sakura. It's strong.
"Let's play a game," Naruto declares.
Sakura takes a calm, smooth swig, like she's drinking water. "Which one? Daimyo's Dime? Oh!" Her eyes glint. "What about Hurricane?"
"No way. I'm not trying to get alcohol poisoning!"
"Shuriken Twist?" Sakura's drinking game suggestions are sounding more and more like Anbu code. "Seven-two-seven?" she adds, even more obscurely.
Sasuke is a little intrigued by whatever Shuriken Twist might entail, but before he can say a word, Naruto interjects. "I have an even better idea." He turns with his whole body to look at the forest. Then he runs to the kitchen. The refrigerator door slams open and shut, and Naruto returns with a smelly armload of the produce that's gone bad in Sasuke's fridge.
Sakura's nose wrinkles. "What are you doing?"
With a wide grin, Naruto dumps his treasures onto a low wooden table. The very table, that not so long ago, Sasuke would keep meticulously polished and dry to avoid watermarks. He must look dismayed, because Sakura consoles him with a sympathetic pass of the bottle. "Whatever," he grumbles, gulping down a burning mouthful of alcohol, "fine."
Naruto picks up an apple that's seen better days. "Come with me." The three of them crowd onto the balcony, where the sun is sinking into the treetops.
He lobs the apple over colorful rooftops in a graceful arc.
"Get it now?"
"No," Sasuke and Sakura say in unison.
"Throwing contest!" He picks up a second apple, points at Sasuke, then out at the street. "Hit that pole."
An electrical pole studs the corner of a small alley a block away. Sasuke lets out a sigh.
"I bet you can't."
"Give me that." He snatches the apple and gives it a few turns in his hand. It's bruised and going soft, but it has a good weight.
He breathes. Throws.
There's a satisfying crack of fruit smashing against wood. Sasuke smiles. His practice has come in handy. "Naruto. Now you."
The dobe selects a daikon radish and rears back. It whips through the air head over heels like a large, misshapen shuriken, snags the wire, and goes flying.
Naruto jumps. "Yes!"
Sasuke scoffs out a laugh. "That doesn't count."
"Yes it does! It made contact!"
"With the wire," he reminds him. "Barely."
They turn to Sakura as one.
She sighs. "This is littering." As they continue to stare, her arms cross. "You agreed upon the pole."
"It's organic, so it's not littering." Naruto drops a rotting tomato into Sakura's palm. "Now hit the wall."
Sakura makes her way to the balcony's edge and squints. The forest starts up dramatically behind the village wall, three blocks away. A ridiculous distance for any normal person to reach in one throw.
A breeze picks up. Sakura tosses the tomato once in her hand. "It's mushy," she mutters, and winds back.
The tomato is in her hand. Then it's exploding against stone with an impressive-looking splat that is regrettably out of hearing range.
Sakura looks pleased. Naruto hollers. Wood scrapes on wood as he drags the table with the rest of their ammunition closer. "I bet I'll make it, too."
With a running start, he chucks a tomato into the air with all his might. When it starts to fall short, he sends out a twist of wind from the beginnings of a rasengan. The tomato meets its mark.
"That's cheating, but points for creativity." Sakura shoves the bottle under Naruto's nose. "Drink." He obeys with a quiet protest.
Sasuke plucks the last tomato from the wilted vine. "Red building on the corner. Ten bricks down, two from the left." He meets his mark.
Naruto loads an orange into his right hand. "Same here."
Sasuke clicks his tongue. "Use your left hand."
"Why should I?"
He raises his stump as a smug reminder. He's using his non-dominant hand.
Scowling, Naruto complies. "Fine. No problem." The orange splats into the street, short by an arm's length. "Fuck! This shit's rigged." He drinks again.
As the pile of produce grows low, an idea dawns on Sasuke. He disappears to root through his dusty kitchen. On the top shelf of the pantry, he finds a bag of chestnuts he used once to prepare kuri gohan. They're still in their shells, hard as a stone in his palm. Made for throwing. When he returns to his teammates, their eyes go wide and mischievous like they're nothing but a pair of kids. The alcohol must be getting to him, because Sasuke feels his mouth turn up in a loose grin.
Naruto roots through the bag. "Water tank, bottom right leg." His arm twists, giving the chestnut a smooth spin, and he yelps as he makes it.
"Bottom left leg," Sasuke says. Chestnut hits metal with a low musical ping.
"Building with the green roof, top left corner," Sakura says. Ornate molding breaks off the facade with a quiet crack. "...That was an accident."
"Fire escape, second railing from the left." Ping.
"Blue roof. Antenna. The smaller one." Sasuke tosses—and misses. He scowls.
Sakura is ready with the bottle. "Don't get overconfident, now." He takes a sip and conjures a withering glare.
She smiles.
Sasuke wipes his mouth on his sleeve. He's losing his touch.
Naruto also aims for the antenna and also misses. Sakura's next throw goes long, sailing over the trees and winking off into starlight. They all drink.
The rounds that follow trend generally downward. Sasuke aims for a fire hydrant and suffers again for it. Naruto's next shot, the chestnut slips from his fingers and tumbles pleasantly to the street below.
Sakura steps up, maddeningly sober. "Water tank, dead center."
"Too easy," Sasuke says.
"The plank in the center that's peeling up," she clarifies. "Happy?"
"Yes." Is his voice slurred?
The chestnut whistles as it shoots through the darkening sky. A ping that's exponentially louder than all former pings echoes through the quiet street, followed by a faint slosh of escaping water.
"Shit!" she whisper-shouts.
"What did you do?" Naruto does shout.
Light turns on in several windows. They all duck with the skill of three trained shinobi.
Sasuke peers over the railing, sharingan on. A laugh bubbles in his throat.
Sakura's hands wring together. "What did I do?"
"You tore a hole in it," he confirms.
Naruto clutches his stomach and bends over.
"Go inside. I'm going to get evicted." Sasuke pinches the bridge of his nose. "Again."
The sliding glass door shuts out the sound of villagers inspecting a punctured water tower. They all flop to the floor like they're genin collapsing around a fire after a long mission.
Naruto raises the bottle. "If Sakura breaks something, we all drink!"
Sitting on her knees, Sakura takes a sad, guilty swig.
"This game doesn't make any sense," Sasuke says, and follows suit.
"Is that my shirt?" Naruto grabs Sasuke's empty sleeve.
"Yeah," Sasuke says, tugging at the front, "and it's annoying as fuck."
"That's so mean." A hiccup of a sob escapes Naruto's lungs. "It was a good shirt." Hazy blue eyes fall to the line of perfectly fastened buttons. "Sa-kura!"
Sasuke's breath catches, but there's no way the dobe is that perceptive, even sober.
"Sakura-chan! You gotta drink again, 'cuz you're less drunk than us and that's not fair."
It really isn't. Sasuke pushes the bottle at her. "Finish it." Liquid sloshes in the bottom three inches. "Bet you can't."
With a laugh, Sakura snatches up his hand and the bottle with it. Pink lips pout around the glass mouth.
Suddenly he's struggling to breathe.
Hands traveling down his chest, the scent of jasmine floating from pink hair. Touching her skin. What those lips would feel like against his mouth, or other parts of his body. He can't think about anything else.
Sakura's throat bobs slowly as she drinks, head tilted back. His arm moves like putty when she lowers the bottle.
Her tongue darts out to lick her lips.
He closes his eyes and calmly wonders if she's trying to kill him.
The bottle sets down with a satisfied clunk. "There." Her fist tightens once around his limp fingers and pulls away. "Happy?"
"So happy," he mutters, and slumps against the foot of the couch.
"I can't believe I have to go to Hokage training tomorrow. What if I skip?"
He feels the heat from Sakura's arm as she leans back beside him. "Will you miss anything important?"
"Oh, you know. How to be the leader of our nation. Not much."
Sasuke's brain is turning to syrup from all the alcohol, and behind closed eyes, the darkness hums and shifts in dizzying patterns like the surface of a choppy lake.
A low whisper ripples through him.
"…should I do? What if he wakes up?"
"I don't think he'd mind, Sakura…"
He's floating, head cushioned perfectly against a steady, safe warmth. Smelling jasmine, he burrows closer.
A soft cry, of wonder and amazement and fear, vibrates against his cheek.
The water washes over him again, still and peaceful.
.
.
The night sky is heavy and thick overhead. Sakura's cheeks are wet from a waterfall of tears, and her short pink hair is tangled and windswept from running after him with all her might.
"Thank you," he says.
"No!" she cries. "Please don't go!"
A cloud skims over the bright sun. The shadow of the village wall melts away from Sakura's face. Her diamond mark hovers directly across from his lips. "What if I came with you?"
He touches her brow. "Next time?"
Dampened shoulders fall, but she nods in understanding. "I'll miss you."
"Write to me. If you want." His eyes lower. If he can't bring her, and he can't stay, he needs to offer something else. Something precious. "I'll write back."
She smiles. "It's okay, if you don't." He imagines her unfurling his letters, smiling just like that. "But I'd love to hear a word or two, every now and then. Just so I know you're okay."
Sakura has pleaded with him to stay. And she's let him loose. She's always had a sense for how tightly to hold on to him.
Wind sighs through the forest canopy. Sakura holds him in her arms, supporting his sleeping weight. His face presses into the crook of her neck.
He wants to be held.
A hand is smoothing over his back as he opens his eyes to a soft, blue dark.
Ah. He's not dreaming?
The touch goes still. "Sasuke-kun?"
Sasuke lifts his head from Sakura's shoulder.
Her hands clasp shyly against her sternum. "You fell asleep."
He leans back, pulse thudding in his ears. "I see."
"It's late." Behind them, Naruto is sprawled on the couch, snoring evenly. "Maybe we should all head home." Green eyes flick over his face, watching closely.
"I didn't mean to…" He touches her shoulder to finish his sentence.
It isn't quite an apology, because he isn't quite sorry.
"It's okay," she whispers. "It was nice."
His eyes close. Yes, it was.
"Sasuke-kun?" Fingers land upon his knee. "When are you leaving? Soon?"
As soon as he can.
That's what he should say. He's stayed in the village weeks and weeks past his welcome. It's dangerous to drag his feet any longer.
"Not yet." Sasuke speaks through the lump in his throat. "Let me stay a little longer?"
Sakura doesn't quite smile, this time. Instead, she looks at him, a strange expression shimmering on her face, the way mist curls in the air before it knows whether to anticipate scalding sun, or the relief of rain.
"You know I will," she says.
How would he know, if she ever wanted to kiss him? At the mere thought, he feels his mouth give a little twitch. Would it not look a little like this?
Jade eyes trace over his face, and pause at his lips for a touch too long.
When he breathes in, the air tastes like rain.
A huge, tired groan splits through the room.
Sasuke's spine snaps straight. He desperately wishes that Sakura's face hasn't spun away in the direction of their teammate. All the clarity he thought he felt in that brief, trembling moment tumbles away like a leaf in a storm.
"Are you awake, Naruto-kun?"
"Ugh," Naruto responds, stretching his limbs. "You guys, I remembered what I'm learning about in Hokage-training tomorrow." He pauses to yawn. "Urban bew-tiffy-cation."
"'Beautification'?" Sakura translates slowly.
"I know." Naruto rubs his face. "It's bad."
"So, things like…keeping the village clean?" Sakura loses the battle of hiding a smile. "And…not throwing rotten vegetables in the street?"
Sasuke lets out a snort. He stands to gather his things.
"You're so chipper," Naruto mentions innocently. "Did you sleep well?"
He conjures a murderous glare. "Did you throw enough tomatoes?"
.
.
The next morning, Sasuke sets a pan to heat up on the stove. "Fried eggs okay?"
"Yes!" Sakura calls from the sink.
That's good. He doesn't have what it takes for tamagoyaki today, though his skills have improved after whipping it up for Sakura enough times. Despite sleeping in, he's still tired, and a dull headache rings through his skull. Even the grey light of the overcast sky hurts his eyes.
Meanwhile, Sakura hums as she swishes grains of rice through water, chipper as can be.
"Are you not hungover?" he mutters.
"No, not really." As Sakura smiles, the morning birds seem to chirp louder in response. "How are you feeling?"
Sasuke considers his words carefully. "Like shit."
"Food will help. Doctor's orders!" The faucet shuts off. "You know, normally I don't bother rinsing my rice."
Sasuke pours half a circle of oil in the pan and stops short. "Seriously?"
She shrugs, sprinkling two pinches of salt into the pot. "Who has the time?"
"Everyone," Sasuke says.
Her eyebrows raise. "Does it really make that much of a difference?"
"You need to rinse the starch out." Sasuke fights the urge to rub his temples as his headache deepens. He lived underground, for months, with Orochimaru, and still rinsed his rice. "Or the texture's not the same."
Sakura bursts into laughter.
"I'm kidding. Your face is so funny!" The speech of a lifetime dies in Sasuke's throat. "Sometimes you're too easy to mess with." She drops the pot on the burner with an amused clang.
Mouth twitching, his hand darts for the pot. "Give me that."
She snatches it out of his reach. "You don't trust me?"
"No." He attempts a half-hearted grab that Sakura easily dodges with a laugh. "I don't want your starchy rice."
"Well, I don't want your eggs!" she cries, knocking one hip into his side. "Except that I do."
Sasuke gives in to a grin. Taking advantage of his height, he manages to grasp the rim of the pot. Sakura squeals as water nearly sloshes over the side. "Fine, you win!"
The pot lowers, caught between their hands.
"No." Sasuke lets go. "You win."
Sakura dons a smug smile. "I thought so."
He tugs on her sleeve, rolling his eyes. "You're ridiculous."
Sakura elbows past him to the stove, looking pleased with herself. Her robe slips off one shoulder. An old, short and thick scar interrupts the smooth stretch of skin between her spine and the strap of her nightgown.
Sasuke touches the skin above the scar. "What happened here?" A stab wound, he guesses, thinking about the scars on his own body.
"That one?" The stove clicks. "I don't remember."
Because her back is turned, he can't read her face. Can't tell if it's really as simple as her voice makes it sound.
"Was it me?" he asks.
He doesn't remember, but sometimes he can't rely on memory.
Sakura spins under his touch. "No. It wasn't." Her brows twitch. "You know, you haven't hurt me nearly as much as you think you have."
His hand slides silently down her shoulder. Old habits, old thoughts, are hard to break.
"It was Sasori," she explains quietly. "I just don't remember how or when. Because he got me much worse, here." She gingerly touches a spot under her ribs, as if the memory of pain is still fresh. "This one, I won't forget."
Sakura's more likely than anything to downplay her pain. If she's speaking so plainly, it must have been bad. Fatal.
"Where?"
She guides his palm under her robe. The fabric of her nightgown is thin enough that he can feel the ridges of a thick scar under his palm.
"Show me." He surprises himself with the force of the demand.
Sakura isn't deterred. "Now?" She pulls at the hem of her skirt. Not shy. Only like she wants him to understand what the request entails.
His eyes flash to hers. Now, or later.
She watches him, without flinching or drawing back. So he nods.
The nightgown bunches high on one side. He sees but doesn't quite look at long bare legs, the sharp jut of hip bones. The moment is too fragile to waste.
Among the muscles of her abdomen rests a mass of scar tissue, the thickest parts not yet faded to white.
Sasuke's hand falls to the bend of her waist as his chest goes hollow. "You survived this?" He's never seen such a wound fully healed. Only fresh, on corpses.
"Barely," she says.
The pads of his fingers skim inadvertently over more scar tissue on the other side of her torso. She was stabbed straight through. A blade of fear slowly wedges between Sasuke's ribs. This injury had come so close to killing her, to taking her from his life, and he hadn't even known. He rubs a small circle into her skin, washed with the relief that she's standing before him.
Sakura releases her grip on the hem. Silk pools over his wrist.
"It was a long fight. My seal wasn't ready yet…it healed badly." Glassy eyes are fixed downwards. "It's ugly, isn't it?"
"There's nothing ugly about you," Sasuke says.
He watches, with the same focus that he might search for a lodestar in the night sky, as her cheeks slowly flush pink.
And part of his brain wakes up, honing in on the way they are touching. Her skirt hiked up, his hand curled tightly around her bare waist. The heel of his palm grazing the band of her underwear.
A spell shatters. He pulls back, skirt slipping from his arm like the breath from his lungs.
"Well," Sakura says, her voice higher and more feeble than usual, "I have work soon." Teeth worry at her bottom lip. "Should we…?" She gestures vaguely at the stove.
Oil pops in the forgotten frying pan, the heat turned too high.
Right.
"Right," he says.
Sasuke attempts eggs sunny-side up and breaks every single yolk. When he reaches for the rice pot, the metal is completely cold.
Sakura's head pops next to his, peering down on a sea of uncooked rice. "I swear I turned the stove on."
Sasuke lowers the lid. "Eggs are fine on their own."
He spoons extra chili oil over their plates to cover his mistakes. They eat in silence, Sakura glancing often between the clock, her plate, a spot somewhere to the left of his face. Sasuke fights to focus on eating and to forget absolutely everything but the present moment. The smell of cheap instant coffee, the enameled blue edge of the plate. Sakura's bare legs, resting inches away under the table.
His hangover flares worse than before.
At noon, Sakura disappears to change into scrubs. Sasuke piles the dishes in the sink and drifts to the couch, pulling a blanket up to his nose.
He wakes up with his throat burning with thirst, and downs two glasses of water at the kitchen sink. As he wobbles back past the balcony doors, pale pink flashes in the corner of his eye.
Sakura's shift started twenty minutes ago. And yet here she is outside, still as a statue. A sheet of white clouds blot out the sky, bleaching the color from her hair.
Wind whistles as Sasuke slides the door open. His loose sleeve lifts in the breeze, grazing the back of her chair. "You're still home."
A weak smile greets him. "I'm late. I know." Her arms wrap over her torso. She's still wearing her bathrobe. "I lost track of time."
"Are you going?"
"I…" A strong gust bends young trees in the village streets. "I really don't want to."
Her voice resonates with a sharp, shaking edge that makes him worried.
Sasuke takes the seat next to her. "Any reason?" he asks carefully.
"You won't be here forever," she says. "I want as much time with you as I can."
If that's really what she's worried about, he can provide some assurance. "I'm in no rush to leave, Sakura."
Surely, she's realized this. It's been obvious for weeks, even if he's never said as much. If she allows it, he'll stay until the village elders break down her door.
When the words don't seem to register at all, he knows there's something else to it.
"I'm late," she repeats. "I should go." Distant rain clouds streak over the horizon as her words grow shakier. "There's so much to do—"
A flood of tears cut off the end of her sentence.
Sasuke remembers last night, falling asleep on her shoulder. He wonders how long she stayed still, letting him rest, though she's the one who surely needed it more.
"There's always a lot to do. But I love it. I love what I do. It's everything I wanted," she hiccups. "I don't know why I'm feeling this way."
"I know." His gut churns with anger at everything that's left her in state. "You need a break."
"I took yesterday off…"
"And they called you right back in."
Sakura doesn't answer.
Sasuke rouses a stern, hard tone that leaves no room for questions or protest. Used properly, it can stun opponents into falling silent. "If you don't rest, your body will force you to." She's a doctor—she knows this. "Like mine did. Many times. Trust me, you don't want that."
Chimneys puff and the scent of woodsmoke drifts through the air as a chilly, damp mist rolls in over Hokage mountain.
"Lately I do nothing but rest," he adds, offhand. "No matter how much, it still isn't enough…I don't understand it. "
"You spent years in constant fight-or-flight mode, Sasuke-kun." Sakura burrows deeper into the warmth of her robe. "We're not designed to handle stress for extended periods of time. And when we do, it takes a huge toll. Your body is finding its equilibrium again. And it will find it. Be patient with yourself."
Putting it that way, it makes sense, why he sleeps so much, why his body can never demand enough rest, even with all those long years behind him. Why all that feverish energy and drive he once possessed is long gone.
"So it's okay?" He catches her gaze. "If I'm tired and need to rest?"
"Of course it is!" She nods, so enthusiastic and pleased with him, that he feels a twinge of guilt for what's to come.
"But it's not okay," he says, "if it's you?"
Sakura blinks hard, and a fresh sheen of tears spring to her eyes.
Sasuke leans back in his chair with the firm suspicion that his needling has achieved its goal.
She sniffs, slowly rubbing at the goosebumps on her bare legs. "I'll stay home today."
He nods with approval. It's a start.
"Thank you." She isn't smiling, but her eyes are soft. "For everything."
Sasuke isn't prepared to be on the receiving end of those words, spoken so carefully, like they are fragile or sacred.
"Don't thank me." He chews through the sentence, jaw stiff. "I've done nothing."
"You told me something I didn't want to hear." She laughs, short and dry. "And you made me listen."
She did the same for him, that night: telling him something he didn't want to hear. That he wasn't alone. He wasn't ready to listen, back then.
"And," Sakura continues, "thanks to you, the herb garden has never looked better. What's your secret?"
"Water."
"What a brilliant mind! This is why I enjoy your company."
"If you took a week off," he challenges, "I'd be even better company."
Sakura aims a gentle glare at him. "Well, I think you're great the way you are."
"If you did, we could do something." Sasuke fidgets with the cuff of his sleeve. "Together."
A smile flickers and takes over her face. "Like what?"
"There's a lot of pine trees, north of the road. Matsutake like to grow there," he says. "I could show you."
The smile slips, and Sakura's voice fills with a sudden gravity. "What if we went right now?"
Sasuke's breath sharpens in his lungs. He feels it too—the pressing urgency that has filled the air. There's nothing important about this day, no reason why they need to go into the forest now, instead of a sunnier, drier afternoon. Nothing but the sense that they must go, right this instant, and do this simple task, or else the chance will slip away.
"Let me get my cloak," he answers.
A drizzle begins as they leave for the forest.
.
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Notes:
you better believe i wrote the throwing contest scene while laughing to myself the whole time lol. also, the line "he wants to be held" at the end of that dream sequence might be my favorite thing I've ever written.
i feel like i have the best readers - your comments always make me smile and i go back to reread them several times. thank you so much for reading!
(heads up: next chapter will contain mature content)