CHAPTER FIVE
It is summertime in Konoha, meaning the heat seeps into every crevice. Every corner, every shadow, every moment just feels off. It's June, and the Uchiha household is without its head – Sasuke is away in Suna for work, leaving Sakura to manage Sato and Kyo all by herself. Usually, this wouldn't be a problem; Sakura has grown accustomed to handling things on her own. Sato is officially a big boy, having learned to ride his bicycle without training wheels a few weeks ago. Kyo is only two months shy of entering full-day Kindergarten. Sakura's waves meet the Uchihas at their shore, welcomed but unneeded, a ticking deadline gone unspoken.
However, tonight is different; tonight, everything that can go wrong, does.
Sakura lies awake, tossing in her bed, unable to find solace in the oppressive heat of the night. The air feels thick, heavy in its dryness, the open windows and running fans doing little to alleviate the discomfort. Nothing is easing Sakura to rest. There's some heavy, ugly feeling festering in her lungs, seeping out to every vein in her body. Poisoning her calm, twisting her nerves, shaking her conviction. Her toenails hurt with every step. The skin between each of her fingers feels ashy, not sitting right atop her phalanges. The tops of her knees rub against the fabric of her sleep shorts, its texture leaving behind dry patches that hurt like rugburns. It's 4AM and Sakura is restless, her mind weaponizing every change in plans as a personal affront to her.
Earlier in the day, Sakura had received a text from Sasuke, his words terse with frustration: "Sandstorm in Suna. Flight delayed." Each subsequent message from Sasuke only helped spiral Sakura's mind further and further.
"Sorry. 1:03PM. Pick me up at 3."
"Never mind. Flight's at 4 now."
"Get dinner with the boys. Flight at 5:47PM."
"Kiss the boys goodnight for me. I'm getting in at 10."
"Midnight flight. I'll get a taxi."
"Don't wait up."
Every message just carved Sakura's worry deeper into her body. She misses him, more than she thought possible, and the uncertainty of his return only exacerbates the feeling.
Sato has taken his father's absence hard. "Papa said he would be home now." Throughout the day, his dark gray eyes lost their excitement bit by bit. All afternoon he's been on the brink of tears, his usual cheerful demeanor clouded by a sense of abandonment. "When is Papa coming home?" he keeps asking, and each time, Sakura's heart breaks apart and mends back together in less than a second. She has to do this – Sakura must do this – to keep some stability in Sato's life, in Kyo's life… and maybe, just maybe, in her own life too. She is the adult; Sakura can't fall apart at the thought of missing her Sasuke too much. She can't show the boys just how fragile she's made herself for Sasuke. She can barely admit to herself how much she needs Sasuke to herself. How is Sakura meant to do the same for Sato? No. She won't. Sakura puts that thought to the back of her mind, never intending to touch it ever again.
Kyo, on the other hand, has been unusually quiet. His big eyes often followed Sakura around with a somberness that's too mature for his age. Her youngest boy often had something to show her – a new dance move, or a new drawing, or a new round of questions seemingly meant to drive Sakura crazy with repetitiveness. Instead, tiny Kyo was quiet – a quiet that echoes those first domestic moments she shared with Sasuke, when the boys were too tiny and their father was too lost. Dinner was subdued. There were no loud fights about which vegetables needed to be eaten. There were no time-outs for randomly punching your brother. There was just silence, both boys left picking at their food.
Now, as the clock ticks much too late in the night and still too early in the morning, the house is quiet but for the whirring of the fans. Sakura's mind races with thoughts of Sasuke – is he safe, is he comfortable, does he miss them as much as they miss him? Her worries churn ceaselessly, a storm as turbulent as the one keeping Sasuke away.
A tiny knock on her door pulls Sakura from her thoughts. "Mama Sakura?" Kyo's small, timid voice drifts through the gap. "I frew up."
In an instant, Sakura is out of bed, her own discomfort forgotten. She finds Kyo standing at her door, his little face pale in the moonlight. "Oh, sweetie," she murmurs, kneeling to his level and brushing his hair back. She can see how violently he shakes in front of her, tears tracking down bright red cheeks that have yet to lose any baby fat. Kyo is her little boy and that's the only thing Sakura can focus on – actions.
Guiding Kyo back to the restroom he shares with Sato, Sakura sets about cleaning him up, her movements gentle but efficient. She draws a warm bath for him, pulling out a big-for-him cotton shirt to change into. When she walks into Kyo's room, Sakura sees the mess he's made on his sheets. Remnants of their dinner are spilled through every layer of his sheets, the smell absolutely soaking through all of it. Sakura opens his window wide before stripping his mattress bare, leaving behind nothing beyond the waterproof mattress protector. Even after rushing to isolate the dirty sheets, Kyo's room retains some of that disgusting scent, clinging to the stale air. Even after Sakura soothes his upset stomach and sings his favorite lullaby, she knows he cannot return to his room. It is not okay to leave her baby all alone in his room, with a horrible scent, much too far to reach for her.
Instead, Sakura sets the sleepy toddler in her bed, knowing the lavender and fresh bedsheets will reward him with happy little toddler dreams. Even half asleep, Kyo curls into her pillow with his dino stuffie less than an inch away from his face. The cooling breeze makes her heart ache for her little boy, and for Sato, who sleeps fitfully in the next room, and for Sasuke, who's stranded far from home. As Kyo finally drifts off, Sakura sits by her bed, watching over him. The room is bathed in a soft, serene light, a stark contrast to the turmoil of the night.
She exhales, left with only one single sentence to be uttered, a moment meant just for Sakura and the creeping moonlight. "What am I doing?"
The night is still and oppressive in Konoha when Sasuke enters their home. His redeye flight has sapped him of whatever energy the overwhelming heat surge didn't steal from his reserves, making every step, every breath, every thought weigh his body down. Sasuke Uchiha enters the familiar confines of his his living room, ready to find Kyo's toys strew about everywhere and Sato's unfinished homework still laying on his tiny desk. Instead, the immaculate residence is decorated in the soft glow of the city's light pollution. His house, typically alive with the bustle of rowdy little boys, is still and quiet; each room draped in the gentle shadows of the moonlight streaming through the windows. The walls stand hushed, as if they too are drained of their energy.
Sasuke can't think, just lets his mind loose. He's never been so disoriented before, never let his thoughts wander unregulated. Still, there is no more energy to put up his walls around his own self.
'It's so hot,' a voice within Sasuke lets loose. 'Why do we live in Konoha? Who chose to move the Uchihas to Konoha. Fucking bastard, whoever that was.'
The night air is heavy and warm this summer, enveloping Sasuke in a sweltering embrace that accentuates the exhaustion clinging to him. His business shirt, damp with the sweat of his journey, clings uncomfortably to his skin as sweat trickles down the muscles of his back. Every pore on his body tries to lower Sasuke's body heat.
'Need to take these off,' he thinks after kicking off his leather shoes by the door. 'This too,' as his suit jacket lands unceremoniously atop his kids' stinky sneakers.
The air is thick, laden with humidity, making each breath he draws feel laborious. His trip weighs heavy on him, sharpening Sasuke's fatigue, pulling him to bed. It's as if the night itself is breathing out a humid sigh, wrapping everything within its sultry hold.
He's having difficulty remembering how to properly untangle his business tie. 'No choice; just throw it on the ground,' Sasuke's internal monologue spits out, right as the tie goes flying to the nearest wall.
'Stairs…. Why did we get a house with stairs?'
Sasuke feels each step weigh on his tired limbs, drawing screaming muscles from his ankles to his groin. He's in the military; he should be able to do this with ease. And yet, Sasuke's body now succumbs to the pull of fatigue. His mind, often sharp and alert, blurs at the edges, surrendering to a weary haze. The clarity and precision of his thoughts give way to a deep-seated yearning for rest, for a moment of peace.
'Just one.'
Sasuke opens his bedroom door, not expecting the sight before him. His sheets lay rumpled, a stark difference compared to the exacting meticulousness taught to him in the military academy. The window has been propped open, clearly meant to cool the room despite the absence of wind. Sasuke's dark eyes catch a brightly colored piece of cloth at the foot of his bed. He peers down, grabbing at the intruding clothing article.
'Who the fuck-?'
Upon closer inspection, Sasuke's tired mind recognizes it: Sakura's sleeping shorts.
'Oh.'
He looks up, knowing now exactly what to look for. Quick movements and a careening neck help him find Sakura; her wild pink hair strewn all over his pillow brings a smile to his face.
'There she is.'
Sasuke didn't know that finding Sakura asleep in his bed would be a soothing sight to a soul as weary as his. Her presence is like a haven in the midst of his tiredness. He pauses, drinking in the peaceful sight of Sakura, her form bathed softly in her sheer camisole, his silk sheets, and the moonlight. A tranquil contrast to the tumult of his recent days. Like she belonged there, like Sakura was always part of his plans, like she was made for Sasuke in his time of need.
'God fucking dammit. She's so-'
But he stops himself. Sasuke stops himself. He cannot do that. Sasuke cannot think that. He cannot form the words that his mind and body and nerves and blood and traitorous hormones want to trick him into accepting.
'I already had a wife,' he admonishes himself, wasting the last bits of his mental energy. 'I lost her. I can't do this; I can't do any of this. I can't lose anyone the way that I lost…'
Sasuke does not move. He stands in the soft glow of the city's light pollution, letting the unbearable heat finally break his mind, finally letting himself finish feeling the feelings, finally letting himself begin again.
As he stands there, watching Sakura's slow breaths, Sasuke breaks. The ground thawed. The rain fell. The boys ran. The seeds sprouted. The flowers bloom. Tsubaki died. His tears dried, and life goes on.
Shedding his clothes with slow, tired movements, Sasuke is left in just his pants, each motion a testament to his weariness. He slips under the covers and the cool sheets between them are a chasm, an ocean separating them with the deepest of blues. Sasuke can feel his fingers twitch, aching, longing, wanting to feel her presence, to confirm that she is real and here and safe.
Without analysis or hesitation, Sasuke's arms move by themselves. Gently, ever so gently, he pulls Sakura into his arms, her body a soft contrast to his chiseled frame. The sensation of her waist in his embrace, against him, is a balm a raindrop in the hottest deserts of Suna.
Sasuke buries his face in her hair, inhaling the faint scent of amber that lingers there as he loses himself to sleep. In it, there is a hint of a love reborn; a life Sasuke scarcely believes he deserves but craves with every fiber of his being.
END OF CHAPTER FIVE.