CHAPTER FOUR
Sasuke enters the Uchiha home, his footsteps resonating heavily, mirroring the exhaustion from a demanding day at the military police station. Tension knots his shoulders, a testament to the relentless pace of his duties. The house, usually a haven of tranquility with the boys asleep, tonight hums with an undercurrent of stress that coils tightly within him.
Shedding his shoes, he's greeted by the lingering scent of dinner, now cold, interwoven with the subtle yet comforting presence of Sakura. It's a gentle reminder of the intricate life they've woven together, complex yet fundamentally a sanctuary for him.
Hearing Sakura's voice, typically a balm to his spirit, unexpectedly ignites a spark of irritation. "The boys really enjoyed seeing Santa today," she says, her tone imbued with the day's delight. "Sato was so happy; you should have seen him, jumping up and down the entire time. Kyo was a little scared, but he was brave enough to share his Christmas list!"
As Sakura continues giving him details of the day's events, Sasuke stands in the silent kitchen, his gaze lost in the distance. His face is a blank canvas, carefully obscuring the turmoil brewing within him. He missed the opportunity to see his children's faces light up in the presence of Santa. Sato and Kyo are only five and three years old, but that has now become a moment forever lost in time. It's another notch in the long list of moments he's missed, a growing ledger of his shortcomings as a father.
'How do I keep failing at this?' he admonishes himself. The question echoes through memories upon memories of times when Sasuke's commitment to his job meant he sacrificed joy with Sato and let grief put distance between him and Kyo. 'And now I'm doing the same thing. Again.'
Every smile, every tear, every playful giggle of his children has become a precious gem, a reminder of what he's lost and what Sasuke can still hold onto. Yet, here he is, failing to be present for these irreplaceable moments. 'It might just be photos with Santa today, but what about New Years' Eve? Easter? Kyo's and Sakura's birthdays in the spring? Sato's Kindergarten graduation? When can I just get it right?' Being a parent has become the cornerstone of his existence, a role he desperately wants to excel in, yet he feels like he's stumbling at every step.
Her attempt to share the day's joy touches a nerve, frayed and raw. His emotions, stretched thin over the day, unravel abruptly. "You took them to see Santa without me?" he finds himself saying, the words sharper, louder, slicing through the calm Sakura tried to maintain.
"You knew about the kids' Santa pictures today," she says, her voice a delicate mix of enthusiasm and accusation. "We had an appointment at the mall."
Already teetering on the edge, Sasuke responds sharply, "A call would have been nice."
"It was clearly marked on the calendar, Sasuke. I even set a reminder on the invite," Sakura counters, her own patience beginning to fray.
"I had work," Sasuke snaps back, his voice rising. He knows his excuses are tried and old. Sasuke's mind replays this exact conversation, plucked from this same house but in a different year, with a different woman.
"Work?" Sakura's frustration echoes throughout the living room. "The mall is not that far away your station! It's like fifteen minutes. Max."
"I was busy, Sakura. You know, with my job. The one that provides for us," Sasuke retorts, already knowing how this is going to play out. Knowing exactly what Sakura will say, since Tsubaki said it all before.
"And I'm always here, taking care of your kids. Sato and Kyo, remember them," Sakura fires back, her tone imbued with bitterness.
"I work to keep a roof over our heads!" Sasuke's frustration reaches its peak, turning into a defensive roar.
"Really, Sasuke? We live in a house your family owns. Just be there for your sons," Sakura replies, her voice a blend of anger and disbelief. But there it is: the difference between the woman in his memory and Sakura before him.
'It's so fucking easy for her,' he thinks, thoughts imbued with venomous jealousy. The ease with which she juggles their life – always making her health appointments, always managing to be there for their children, always making enough space and time for him and his insurmountable grief – contrasts sharply with his own struggles. Sasuke knows how crucial his family is; Sakura and Sato and Kyo are the few remaining pieces after the fallout within the Uchihas. Sakura has been his unwavering support, the only person he truly feels like he can confide in, and yet Sasuke feels like he's letting her down too. The thought gnaws at the easy companionship Sasuke has developed with Sakura, threatening to burn it all to the ground after three years.
"Don't start that again. Those boys are my world," Sasuke growls, his anger boiling over.
"They're my boys now too, Sasuke," Sakura stands her ground, her voice resolute.
Suddenly, Sasuke's eyes catch a glimpse of a small, scared figure at the top of the stairs. Sato, their son, stands there, his young face marked with emotions that no five-year-old should ever truly know. Wide-eyed and pale, the little boy's lips quiver slightly. His small hands grip the wooden balustrade tightly, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Sato's eyebrows are knit together – a small thin line appearing at his brow – and his lower lip trembles. Little Sato looks like he's been sitting there for a while, trying to comprehend the loud voices and harsh words that come from the two adults he cares about most in the world: his Papa and his Sakura. His pajamas, dark swirls of black and purple with a stars and planets and comets pattern, hang loosely on his tiny frame. The usual spark of mischief and joy that lights up the boy's dark eyes is absent, replaced by an uncertain gaze brimming with tears. He looks smaller somehow, diminished by the tension that has infiltrated the safe haven of their home.
"Sato..." Sasuke's voice cracks, the sight of his son severing the thread of his anger. "I'm coming, buddy."
Anger evaporates from every pore in Sasuke's body, leaving him with only a profound sense of guilt. He quickly ascends the stairs, leaving behind Sakura, her concerned green eyes and the remnants of the argument. Sasuke cannot get to Sato quickly enough, his mind overwhelmed by the realization of the impact their heated exchange had on his little boy. Reaching the top, he sees Sato, small and vulnerable, his eyes wide with confusion and fear.
Without a word, Sasuke pulls Sato into his arms. The boy's tiny body trembles as he buries his face in his father's embrace, letting out quiet, heart-wrenching sobs. Sasuke holds him tightly, a surge of protectiveness and remorse washing over him. He strokes Sato's hair, whispering soothing words, trying to calm the storm of emotions in his little boy as Sasuke makes their way over to his room.
"Sato, it's okay," Sasuke murmurs, feeling the dampness of tears on his shirt. "Papa's here."
The moonlight casts a soft glow across the baby blue walls, bathing the room in a serene light. He tucks Sato under the covers, his movements tender and careful.
As Sasuke reaches to turn off the light, a small, hesitant voice pierces the quiet of the room. "Is Sakura going to leave us, too?" Sato's words, laden with uncertainty, strike Sasuke with a sudden jolt of realization. He's acutely aware of the fear underlying his son's question, a fear born from the overheard argument, a fear born from the sudden loss of his mother, a fear Sasuke tried so hard to prevent.
Gently, Sasuke lowers himself to kneel beside the short bed, ensuring he's at eye level with Sato. He gazes earnestly into his son's anxious eyes, exact copies of his own dark grey peering back at Sasuke. "No, Sato, Sakura won't leave us," he assures with a calm, firm tone. "She cares about us a lot, just like how we care about her."
Sato's small brow furrows, his voice a mere whisper. "But you both seemed so angry..."
Sasuke exhales softly, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. "You know, sometimes even grown-ups get upset and might say things we don't really mean. But that doesn't change how much we love each other. Sakura is an important part of our family, and she's going to stay with us."
A timid nod comes from Sato, his eyes momentarily brightening with a glimmer of reassurance. "Okay, Papa."
Remaining by Sato's side, Sasuke's fingertips tracing soothing circles on his son's back. This silent comfort is one of the few ways Sasuke can guarantee calm in his household. Even as failure after failure of his parenting is thrown in his face by his own wretched mind, Sasuke can always make sure both of his babies fall asleep quickly. Sato's breathing becomes deep and even, his departure to dreamland a success. In these quiet moments, Sasuke contemplates the profound impact their words and deeds have on their children. Parenthood, he realizes, is not just about provision and protection; it's equally about nurturing, empathy, and showing the enduring power of love, especially when faced with adversity.
Bending forward, Sasuke plants a tender kiss on Sato's forehead. "Goodnight, Sato. I love you," he whispers, his voice laced with affection.
December morning sunlight filters softly through the kitchen curtains, casting a warm glow over Sasuke's household. It's a peaceful Saturday morning, the kind that feels like a gentle pause in the rush of life. In the kitchen, Sasuke moves with quiet efficiency, a skill honed from many mornings of balancing his duties as a father, the demands of his job, and soul-piercing grief. He knows what the next thing to do is, and how to get it done, even if Sasuke feels like he has no energy and finds no joy in faking happiness in his own household. He has to, for everyone's sake.
He's let Sakura sleep in today, a small apology for his tempestuous ire the night before. It is ten in the morning and Sato and Kyo are already up, sitting at their tiny tables. Sato sits with his eyebrows furrowed, frustrated by his leftover homework from Kumon. Kyo sits beside him, coloring wildly while narrating his masterpiece aloud. Their living room television plays 'Ratatouille' on mute, the captions playing at the bottom to help Sato and Kyo learn to read. The little boys chat amongst themselves, their laughter and chatter a pleasant background noise as Sasuke flips the last batch of pancakes on the griddle.
Suddenly, there's a loud thud and crash coming from the second floor. Loud steps hasten from one bedroom to all the other ones, the loud squeaks of the bedroom hinges sounding all the way to the first floor.
Then, Sakura appears at the foot of the stairs. She makes eye contact with Sasuke and the perfect-prepared apology he's turned over and over in his head for hours goes out the window. Sakura is slightly disheveled but still beautiful in her camisole and sleeping shorts. She's hurriedly wrapped one of Kyo's old baby blankets around much of her torso, clearly trying to hide from the wintery cold morning.
"Sakura!" Sato, energetic and beaming, bounds up to Sakura first. His dark hair is a little tousled, and his bright eyes sparkle with uncontainable joy. "Good morning!" he exclaims, his voice bubbling with the enthusiasm only a five-year-old can muster. He wraps his small arms around her legs in a loving, if slightly clumsy, hug.
Kyo, trailing behind his older brother, approaches more timidly. "Morning, Mama Sakura," he says softly, the words slipping out in the innocence of childhood. He reaches out, wanting to be part of the morning embrace.
Sakura, touched by their affection, bends down to their level, opening her arms to envelop both boys in a warm, nurturing hug. "Good morning, my little munchkins," she replies, her voice filled with love and affection.
As they pull back from their hug, Sato and Kyo return to their shared activity sets, leaving Sakura to wander into the kitchen. Her unsure steps can be heard as Sasuke finishes setting out a plate of her favorite breakfast on the kitchen table. He's spent all morning making sure everything is perfect, but when he sees her, Sasuke knows that no nice meal or extra hours of sleep or accepted apology will help ease the guilt burrowing itself in his heart.
Sakura shuffles into the kitchen, her movements betraying the sluggishness of a restless night. Her usually bright green eyes are dimmed, veiled under the shadow of fatigue. They're a little red-rimmed and puffy, hints of a night spent in tears rather than restful slumber. Each blink seems an effort, as if her eyelids are weighted down by the remnants of her sorrow.
Stray strands of her pink hair fall haphazardly around her face, lacking their usual neatness, giving her an air of disarray. The softness of her cheeks is marred slightly by the faint, dried tracks of salt across her visage.
As Sakura moves through the kitchen, her gaze distant and reflective, she periodically rubs her eyes with the back of her hand in a subconscious gesture, as if trying to erase the vestiges of a night marred by silent tears. Her usually vibrant demeanor is subdued, replaced by a quiet fragility, a rare glimpse of vulnerability that she typically shields with her strength and resilience.
Sasuke watches her, his concern evident. As she approaches, the tension from the previous night lingers, unspoken yet palpable. "Morning, Sakura," he says softly, his voice tinged with care. "You didn't have to rush."
Sakura, attempting to brush off the heaviness of the night, musters a yawn and replies in a tone laced with her characteristic playfulness. "Sure, Sasuke. Planning to scold me for not telling you more obvious things? Let me guess, you need me to tell you that your son doesn't go to school on Saturdays?"
In this subtle exchange, the layers of their relationship unfold - Sasuke's quiet observation and concern, and Sakura's effort to lighten the mood, despite the evident traces of her recent emotional struggle.
Sasuke sighs, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Stop being annoying... You only do that when you're nervous."
Sakura murmurs, her voice softening, "Of course I'm nervous. We don't really get to talk about things like this around here."
Sasuke sets down the spatula and turns to her, his expression serious. "Listen to me. I was out of line. I raised my voice, said things I shouldn't have. I'm really sorry."
Sakura leans against the doorway, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well, you did sound like a grumpy old man. It's not every day you compete with thunder."
He meets her gaze, his own filled with regret. "I know, I know. I regret what I said. The stuff going on at work, having to see my father at the station, and then I come home and I just keep failing at this 'dad' thing. The stress just… That wasn't fair to you."
Sakura steps into the kitchen, the blanket slipping slightly off her shoulder. "Stress does weird things to people. But remember, I'm not just any people; I'm your super roommate."
Sasuke blushes slightly, a rare show of vulnerability. "Exactly, and I didn't treat my super roommate right. I overlooked your feelings, and for that, I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted, but only because you make a mean pancake on Saturdays," Sakura teases, a genuine smile brightening her face.
Sasuke laughs, the sound light and heartfelt. "You and the boys are my world, Sakura. I'm grateful for everything you do. Can you forgive this 'grumpy old man?'"
Sakura giggles, moving closer to him. "I suppose I can."
Sasuke reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'm here for you, Sakura. Honestly. Anything you need, just say the word."
"Thank you, Sasuke. And for the record, I like grumpy old men, especially when they give good apologies for hurting my feelings."
As they sit together in the warmth of the kitchen, the smell of pancakes filling the air and the sound of Sato and Kyo's playful laughter drifting in from the next room, Sasuke suddenly flushed by a feeling that he's been trying to suppress. It took only the smallest crack in his armor for the inextricable feeling he had been trying to stifle to bloom, forcing itself into Sasuke's consciousness. He tentatively reaches out across the table, his fingers gently brushing against Sakura's hand. For a moment, he holds his breath, uncertain of her response.
Sakura, taken slightly aback, pauses but doesn't withdraw. Encouraged by her lack of resistance, Sasuke's courage swells. He lifts her hand, bringing it closer to his lips, and tenderly kisses the back of it. His eyes search her face for any sign of discomfort or rejection.
Sakura's cheeks flush a beautiful shade of pink, a bloom of color that speaks of wild abandon. Sasuke's heart races, worry flurries wildly in his mind. 'Is this too much? Will she pull away?' But instead of retreating, Sakura allows her hand to remain in his, her thumb softly caressing his hand in a comforting, reassuring rhythm.
The simple act of holding hands, a kiss on her skin, breaks through years of carefully maintained boundaries. In this moment, Sasuke finds himself. He checks his pulse, his heart still beating. He searches for his grief dulling every moment, finding only technicolor visions in his mind. He looks for his empty and broken heart and finds it overflowing with love. The nerves within every part of him pulse, alive with romance, desire, and a wild need for the woman before him.
The realization sits heavy in his chest, a truth he's not yet ready to voice, but one that he can no longer ignore: Sasuke Uchiha is in love with his wife.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR.