CHAPTER THREE.
Monday mornings at the Uchiha house, with the school year in full swing, are a whirlwind of activity. As dawn's first light barely seeps through the curtains, the chaos starts. The air buzzes with the aroma of brewing coffee and toasted bread, intermingling with the faint scent of Sakura's almond shampoo and conditioner lingering in the hallway.
Sasuke, already donned in his signature crisp shirt and dark slacks, navigates the kitchen with practiced ease. He expertly pours two cups of coffee from the freshly brewed pot. Steam rises in the early quiet, stirring his senses, tempting him with the thought of sleeping in.
The thunder of little feet pounding down the staircase heralds Sato's entrance to the kitchen. Clearly, Sakura has just finished prepping the little boy for the day. Sato's light blue sweater, freshly ironed by Sakura after checking the day's cool forecast, still radiates warmth. His untamed dark hair is slicked back, revealing big, shining eyes. Sasuke mentally notes to stock up on more hair gel, considering the amount he and Sato go through daily. In his school uniform, Sato bursts into the kitchen, his backpack jostling, the LEDs on his shoe soles flickering briefly before he appears in full. Sasuke watches as Sato, now five and bubbling with energy, chatters excitedly to him while he finishes breakfast.
"Papa, can I flip the cancakes next time?" Sato blurts out, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement.
Suppressing a yawn, Sasuke gives him a weary yet affectionate smile. "Flip the 'cancakes,' huh? Think you can manage the big spatula?"
Sato nods vigorously, almost jumping in place. "Yes! I'm super strong!" He boasts, flexing his little arms dramatically. "See? Seeeeeeee?!"
Sasuke's soft chuckle escapes him, another yawn fighting its way out. "Alright, alright, Super Strong Sato. Next time, you're my pancake-flipping assistant."
Sato's eyes sparkle, embracing such an important responsibility. "I'll be careful, Papa. Won't let the cancakes fall on the floor."
"Great to hear," Sasuke responds, flipping a pancake onto a plate. "Today, though, how about setting the table? That's a super important job too."
Sato salutes, his face etched with seriousness. "Aye, aye, Captain Papa! Protecting the plates and forks from... the triads!"
"That's 'First Sergeant Uchiha' to you," Sasuke murmurs to himself, watching Sato dash off to gather cutlery.
Sasuke's genuine smile breaks through his fatigue as Sato's imaginative antics amuse him, lightening the morning's routine.
Sakura steps out, embodying multitasking chaos. Stray pink strands escape her claw clip, her thick sweater hanging over denim jeans, already untucked from her morning bustle. Holding her phone to her ear, she instructs – possibly a neighbor – on operating a backup generator for the expected heavy weather. Kyo, still sleepy, clings to her, having sought refuge in her arms after a restless night filled with nightmares of solitude. Sakura's bed had offered him fitful sleep, ensuring he wasn't alone.
Breakfast becomes a flurry of activity. Sasuke, precise and methodical, assembles plates for the family, while Sakura assists, adjusting seats and pouring milk for the boys. Their teamwork, honed by countless mornings just like this one, flows effortlessly.
Sakura helps Sato with his jacket, narrowly averting his tantrum. The little boy insists he doesn't need it, his voice escalating. His complaint morphs into grumbling about having to go to school while Baby Kyo stays home in his pajamas. While calming Sato, Kyo's tiny voice halts them all.
"Mama, can I have more juice?" Kyo asks, clear and expectant. Sasuke's youngest son swings his tiny legs, looking up at Sakura with his innocent eyes.
The word 'Mama' hangs in the air, a poignant echo that resonates deep within Sasuke. The word triggers a flood of memories. He waits to see Tsubaki's smiling face, to hear her laughter, to feel the ghost of her touch. Sasuke waits. He knows the onslaught of pain, almost welcomes his grief like an old friend after all these years. But nothing happens. No swell of heartbreak, no loss of air, not even a moment of sadness strikes Sasuke. Tsubaki's ghost has been summoned and nothing happens.
Sakura freezes for a moment, her eyes wide with surprise. She quickly masks her reaction with a gentle smile for Kyo. "Of course, sweetie," she says, pouring the juice. But only Sasuke notices the slight tremble in her hand. Only Sasuke catches the brief flash of water brimming in her eyes. Only Sasuke notes the heavy swallow at Sakura's delicate throat before she returns back to her body. Her green eyes meet his, illuminated only in murky confusion.
Sasuke's heart races, the word thundering within him. The house's ambient sounds fade as he focuses on the moment.
The word reverberates through Sasuke like a sudden clap of thunder, startling and unexpected. The ambient hum of the house fades into a distant murmur as he fixates on the scene before him. Sakura, momentarily frozen, her hand suspended in the act of pouring juice, quickly masks her reaction with a gentle smile, but Sasuke barely notices.
His heart thuds erratically, a cacophony that drowns out all else. In this suspended moment, a startling realization crystallizes within him. Sasuke does not see beyond Sakura's smiling face. He cannot recall hearing any other laugh but Sakura's own. He cannot remember any other comfort but those within Sakura's calming hugs. The gratitude he feels for Sakura and all she has done to get him through his grief has rooted itself too deeply in him, blossoming into something deeper, some kind of affection Sasuke doesn't want to examine. The thought is terrifying, a forbidden territory Kyo has placed right in front of Sasuke without any doubts. Sasuke does not want to venture further, too anxious by what he might find.
'No, this isn't right. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Sakura is just... Sakura.'
Sasuke feels a rush of warmth at the sight of Sakura's tender interaction with Kyo, followed by a sharp pang of guilt.
'Why am I not more upset about Kyo's mistake?' His heart beats erratically, the intense emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Sasuke's ears burn hot, and his balance is off, almost capsizing from the rush within his body. He leans against the door frame, battling the internal storm. How can Tsubaki's waves meet his shore without Sasuke falling apart? How can he not cry anymore? How can Sasuke not see – not feel – like his whole life is ruined?
The turmoil blurs his vision, his thoughts clouding. He's distantly aware of Sakura soothing Kyo as his body moves on its own, completing his morning routine by driving off to work. Sasuke Uchiha is done grieving.
In the deep quiet of 2 AM, Sasuke Uchiha drives home from a long, draining shift at the military police station. The streets of Konoha are deserted, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. His car glides through the night, the rhythmic hum of the engine a solitary companion in the darkness.
As he drives, his mind wanders, letting Sakura's messages from the day play on a loop. Her texts, a lifeline to some kind of normalcy, keep him grounded when it all gets to be too much. He remembers her telling him about Sato's playdate with the new neighbors down the street. "Mr. Uzumaki is really funny!" Sato had exclaimed in the voice message. Sasuke had smiled faintly at that, imagining Sato having an easier time making friends than Sasuke ever did.
Then there was Kyo, the littlest, who'd finally eaten all his vegetables. "Had to hide them in his spaghetti sauce, but it worked!" Sakura's triumph had been palpable in her text, a small success against the onslaught of demands for dinosaur chicken nuggets for every meal.
But it was her last message that lingered in his mind: "I'm so drained..." Sakura's voice had sounded tired, worn out from her immunotherapy treatment. Even through the phone, Sasuke could sense her fatigue, a soft vulnerability she rarely showed. She only ever let her shield down to him, never letting their boys believe in Sasuke nor Sakura's mortality. They were Sato's and Kyo's superheroes; she worked hard to never let them be scared.
Sasuke pulls into the driveway, the familiar sight of his home offering a sense of relief. He turns off the engine and sits for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Quietly, he steps out of the car, the cool winter air drawing goosebumps on his skin.
As Sasuke enters the house, there is only darkness. He moves through the familiar spaces, his steps silent, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light. In this darkness, his mind begins to fill the emptiness and quiet with memories.
He expects his memories to bring him back to his time with Tsubaki, his late wife. The bittersweet moments they shared, the dreams they had built in these very rooms. But instead, his mind surprises him, offering only snapshots of Sakura's presence.
He sees her in the kitchen, sunlight dancing in her rosette locks, Kyo's hitched on her hip and Sato dancing along as she cooks, her laughter matching the boys'. He remembers her sitting at the dining table, helping Sato with his homework, trying to get him to get the hang of this "reading" nonsense. In the living room, he visualizes her holding Kyo, reading stories before bedtime, her voice soft and soothing as the baby's eyelids flutter between sweet dreams and sweet realities.
Each memory of Sakura is vivid, loud, and bright, filling up a home that was destined to only ever be a house. Sasuke stops in his tracks while moving along the living room, his breath coming short as the truth dawns on him. These moments with Sakura – the current and present happiness with his family - are as dear to him as Sasuke's yesterdays with Tsubaki.
Suddenly, a voice on the second floor catches his attention, pulling Sasuke from his stroll down memory lane. It's a soft murmur, barely audible from his vantage point in his living room. Curiosity getting the best of him, he ascends the stairs, each step silent, honed by years of training by his father and the Military Academy.
First, he peeks into Kyo's room. The soft glow of the moon filters through the curtains, casting a serene light across the light green walls. The color, chosen for its calming effect and nonexistent ability to ward off nightmares, seems to hold the moonlight, creating a tranquil atmosphere. Kyo lies asleep, his small chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. In the dim light, the walls take on a shadowy, comforting presence, the familiar shapes of furniture and toys blending into the quiet stillness of the night.
Next, he quietly checks on Sato. The room, with its baby blue walls, takes on a different character in the darkness of night. The soft blue becomes deeper, more subdued, like the calm of the ocean at twilight. The room is bathed in the faint, comforting glow of a nightlight shaped like a small, cheerful sun. Its soft yellow light casts a gentle, reassuring presence, warding off the monsters that go bump in the night.
Sasuke moves towards his own room but pauses at Sakura's door. The two bedrooms share a wall, so he can ward off any danger that may come her way. Still, a decision battles within him – to look or to respect her privacy. The muffled voice he heard earlier nudges his curiosity.
With utmost care to avoid any sound, he gently pushes the door open just a fraction.
Sakura's eyes were closed tightly, face flushed pink even in the dark of night. Sasuke can't see much, his eyes adjusting to the different light filtering in through the lace curtains. But then, his sight catches the slightest hint, a subtle movement. With her knees bent and spread slightly apart, Sakura's hand caresses the space between her thighs under her sheets. Her breath comes out shallowly, matching her hand's tempo. Small sighs escape her mouth as Sakura's fingers sink into her body. The tremble of her legs, the scent of musk, and her hair in disarray atop her pillow; all of it left Sasuke with no doubt about what Sakura was doing in the privacy of her bedroom, just a few feet away from his room and his bed and him.
"Shit," she whispers, almost gasping as her fingers keep going. Sakura twists in the bedsheets, her body seeing some edge, some kind of respite, all at the same time.
Sasuke's mind finds itself captivated by the majestic goddess lit only by the moonlight. He records every inch of the sight before him, burning the image into the back of his eyelids. Every synapse in his brain screams at him – 'don't look away!' – and every atom in his body wants to fall into the gravity between his body and Sakura. Every curve of her body, every sensual movement, was crafted just for him.
It takes only a moment of visual self-indulgence before his conscience finally decides to awake. Sasuke is struck with more intense feelings, his need for Sakura tightening his trousers no longer taking his full attention. There is now a sharp strike of guilt. As much as he can't deny how erotic Sakura looks, how badly his hands want to touch, how much his mouth wants a taste, Sasuke knows he shouldn't be here. He should not be invading Sakura's privacy. He shouldn't be indulging in some half-baked daydreams. His cock throbbed painfully in his trousers, begging for release.
With trembling fingers, Sakura pushed away her bedding, clammy skin glistering with sweat even in the dead of winter. Now completely bare, Sasuke's eyes explored every inch of Sakura. She parts her folds, exposing her wetness, the moonlight and lace curtains draw patterns on Sakura's breasts. Sasuke could see her swollen nub, could see how her fingers swirled with a tangible need to be filled, desperate for some relief.
Sakura's hand moved faster, her lips parted in a silent moan, eyes shut tight. As she reached her peak, she let out a low scream, echoing throughout the otherwise quiet room. Her whole body shook violently under the force of her orgasm.
Feeling torn between his bodily need growing tight within his pants and the moral conflict of not feeling any shame at watching Sakura pleasure herself, Sasuke backed away. He closed the door as much as he could without drawing forth any sound.
In his bed, Sasuke lay perfectly still, letting the hours of the night pass without any attempt to sleep.
But he wants it. Sasuke wants her. He wants to know. Sasuke wants to stop the thousands of guesses. Sasuke wants to know the swirl of her skin. He wants to learn the shape of her curves. He wants to know how her desire sticks to her fingers. He wants to learn the taste of her tongue. He wants to know the warmth of her body. Oh, God, does he want that. He wants to memorize the curve of her breast, learn the texture with his kiss. He wants to hear the hitch of her need catching at her throat. He wants to make her his. He wants and wants and wants her so bad. Every vein in his body burns, the blood coursing within him heated up like magma. With every stroke of his hand, Sasuke can feel himself losing his body and mind to the haze.
Sakura. Sakura, his children's caregiver. Sakura, his closest friend. Sakura, the person he holds close when her tears threaten to overtake her. Sakura, his deceased wife's most trusted confidant. Sakura, his wife on-paper-only. Sakura.
His Sakura.
END OF CHAPTER THREE.