AN: Forewarning, this fic is going to be long. I have a huge chunk already written, but there's so much more I want to add. This will be canon compliant, though in my head they're aged up a little bit - Sasuke is 19, and Sakura has just turned 20 at the beginning of this story. Idk where this is coming from honestly; school finally ended for the summer and I think it traumatized me so much that 97 pages of feel-good (and NSFW filth) regarding my favorite pairing just poured out of me? [Tik Tok Soundbite: I am fucking crazy, but I am free]
© All characters, setting, and material concepts were created by Masashi Kishimoto. I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.
Chapter 1: Homecoming
Sasuke returns to the village on an unseasonably warm evening at the end of March.
Squirrels and birds alike scatter from the trees as he finishes the final trek of his journey. A gentle warm breeze with filtering sunlight from the west allows for the various greenery of the forest to begin to bloom more fully. Spring is here in all its redolence, in more ways than one.
He allows himself a rare moment of sentimentality, and thinks to himself that it is a beautiful day.
Sasuke crosses the boundary into the village with little fanfare; he had not informed anyone he was coming. He had meant to be back a few days earlier, in truth, but travel had taken a bit longer than he'd anticipated.
He's sure that within the hour, word will spread from the guard duty sentries who gaped at him as he walked through the gates, but he's not concerned about that right now. Dealing with Naruto and Kakashi can be saved for later. They're probably busy, anyway.
The village looks a bit different from the last time he was back. He notices a few unfamiliar buildings, as well as new shops lining the streets. He had assumed the development of Konohagakure would continue to branch outwards in his absence, assumed things would continue to change in vestigial increments, and that the population would expand now that they were enveloped in a bubble of peace. He was right; the village is bustling with activity. Many of the shops he passes sell plants and small tree saplings, an entire populace ready to sew the first seeds for the new year.
There is wreckage of the old Konoha ground into the dust that new Konoha sits atop. It bothers him, still pulls at his insides, wounds with sutures over a decade old. But, it is also high time for regrowth, he thinks. Time for scars to fade a little in the sun.
The closer he gets, the more something akin to apprehension settles in his ribcage, the kind one gets just before doing something extremely important, something that would make them vulnerable. In his adverse experience, this feeling usually leads up to something soul-shatteringly bad.
Sasuke tries to force the negative thoughts down, tries to swallow his doubt, to ground himself in the present moment instead of living in the past; he's been slowly getting better at doing that. But the feeling persists, nagging at the corners of his psyche. He has spent years letting what ifs masticate his entrails, eat him alive from the inside out, and change is difficult.
He wonders as he makes his way to the center of the village, heart clenching, if her schedule will have changed, too.
Or worse, if her feelings have changed. He has been gone a long time.
She has not indicated anything of the sort in their regular letters, but he wouldn't be Sasuke Uchiha if he didn't worry, panic a little, over every single thing, and he knows this is a big thing. A world-altering thing.
She is the only one he has kept in regular touch with, sending her correspondence near monthly updating her on the status of his travels, his atonement, where he was and what he was thinking about. She has always responded promptly, thoughtfully, kindly filling him in on things he missed, answering questions, even some he more hinted at than asked.
Sakura has always been able to read him frighteningly well.
He pauses on a rooftop near the hospital, takes a moment to try to smother the anxiousness, the solicitude that flares to life in his belly like kindling. He then forces himself to hop across two more rooftops, and suddenly he's there, within sight of her office window, and that, at least, has not changed.
Her window is open, and she must be taking a break for a moment, because she's looking to the north, enjoying a moment of respite from her work.
She is more beautiful than in his reminiscence, and that is an accomplishment in and of itself, as the Sharingan captures everything in near crystalline clarity, and thus he has had years to study her resplendence in his memories. A soft smile is on her lips as she apparently takes in the spring air, scented with her ephemeral namesake. Her hair is shorter than the last time he saw her, parted to the side; he finds he likes it, but thinks he would probably like it any way she chose to wear it. Luminous jade eyes are framed by soft strawberry blonde lashes and high cheekbones.
Just looking at her feels like coming home, incipience.
She must feel him staring in her peripheral vision after a moment, as her gaze shifts to him, and suddenly there is a smile so dazzling and sweet overtaking her features that it takes his breath away, the anxiety evaporating momentarily from his chest in an instant.
He has missed her. March 31st is a day he will never forget.
"Sasuke-kun!" She calls out to him, clearly delighted, verdant eyes glowing against the evening sun. It gives him the motivation he needs to flit the final step down to her window, and she pushes it open wider to allow him entry into her office. He notices upon closer inspection that she's blushing, and smiling still, the dimple she has to the right of her mouth showing. He is pleased, ribs unclenching themselves gradually from around his heart. He straightens to his full height after he passes through the threshold.
"Sakura." She smiles at him more widely as he says her name, and there is love, as well as flecks of gold, both visually and proverbially, in her eyes.
Still. After all this time.
She shifts a little, looking up at him, and he realizes he must have grown another inch or so since he last saw her. "When did you get back?" She asks, still grinning, energy thrumming clearly with happiness.
"Just now," he responds, a small smile playing at his lips as her blush deepens; there is no reason to hide the fact that she is the first he has chosen to see upon his return. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday," he adds.
She blinks, more scarlet blooming across her cheeks, as if him knowing when her birthday is takes her by surprise. "Oh! Um… it's okay." She looks up at him sheepishly, hands folding in front of her. "Thank you for remembering."
There is a moment of pause. Then, she asks, hesitantly, smile a little shaky, "Are you… just back for a little while?"
Her eyes really are like jade, he thinks, serene and multi-faceted and emollient to the soul.
"...For more than a while," he responds, and her smile stops faltering; she is transparently happy.
He finds himself infected by her happiness, pleasure sinking over him at simply being in her continued presence. It is like huddling close to a fire after a day's trek through snowy wilderness, or the first sight of land after a week at sea. He had stared at seafoam every morning for a week, once, while at sea; the sunrise caused fractals of colors to dance in the shifting light. It had reminded him of the color of her eyes when she was happy like this.
"Well, welcome back, Sasuke-kun. It's… very good to see you again," she says shyly.
He finds himself wanting to reach out to her, to touch her as his heart has ached for him to for years.
It is why he returned, after all.
He takes a moment to muster up the courage, and then lightly, loosely, nervously takes her hand, giving her the opportunity to pull away if she wants to. If her feelings have changed.
She doesn't. She throws her arms around him instead, pulls him close to her. He stiffens for a millisecond in surprise, but then relaxes, shifts to rest his head atop hers, wrapping his arm around her. She smells nice, like a mixture of tart berries and cleanness, likely a remnant of antiseptic.
It feels right.
"...I'm home, Sakura."
They embrace for a long time, a tranquil moiety held together by three forelimbs, two beating hearts, and one yet-unspoken something more, teeming with history.
When they finally part, he notices her eyes are saturated with tears. He gently, carefully wipes them away as she looks up at him bashfully, still flushing prettily.
Nervousness settles back into his chest as she gazes at him, emotion buzzing like a bee in his ribcage. His satchel suddenly feels heavier on his shoulder.
"I… had something made for you," Sasuke confesses quietly.
She just looks at him, as if she didn't comprehend what he said.
"...For your birthday," he clarifies.
She blinks, pink brows furrowing. "Made… for me?" She seems to echo without thinking, still stuck on the previous statement.
He nods. "...I'm sorry it's late." He lets the weight of the words hover in the air for a moment, hoping she will understand that he is apologizing for more than a tardy gift.
He steels his resolve before breaking eye contact, turning slightly to sift through his bag for the box, roughly a little larger than the length of his outstretched hand; he then hands it over carefully. Her hand brushes his as she takes it, and a spark passes between them that is extremely distracting.
"Thank you, Sasuke-kun," she says softly, just clutching the box without having opened it. His ears burn, and butterflies flutter in his stomach. He tries for the umpteenth time to push the feeling down.
"...You should open it," he manages, or moreso mumbles, not used to talking this much after so long on the road. His voice is gravelly from disuse, or maybe from nerves.
"Okay," she says. She moves slightly to set the box delicately on her desk, unsure of the contents, and removes the lid.
Her jade eyes widen to the width of saucers; he doesn't think he's ever seen her look so shocked. It's a similar look to when he joined their side on the battlefield against Madara. She wasn't blushing then like she is now, though, redder than he's ever seen her. He thinks she is so pretty.
"O-oh," she more gasps than says.
The uchiwa fan inside was meticulously crafted hundreds of miles away by a professional tradesman, the best in his field and near retirement. The man had told him it was the most detail-oriented commission he had ever received, and that whoever 'Sakura' was, she was a lucky woman to receive such a piece, sure to become a family heirloom. He had silently disagreed on the lucky part, and colored at the implication of the word 'family', but stayed silent due to his appreciation for the craftsmanship of the final product, and that the man wasn't technically wrong… he hoped.
A scrupulously carved handle made of pale wood makes up the base of the fan. The handle changes as it spreads upwards into branch tendrils, creating a shape reminiscent of a sakura tree. The wood appears to dissolve further upwards into eighty slivers of bamboo, creating the framework for the remainder of the fan. The interweaving between the strips of bamboo themselves are made up of an elegant silk, color shifting from a rich rose color, almost red, at the fan's end to a pale pink, almost white, at the base; it creates the appearance of a mass of semi-transparent cherry blossom petals extending from pale branches. The stitching has a slight iridescent sheen to it, interwoven with a color shifting thread in some spots that causes the fan's appearance to shimmer slightly as it is turned in the light. Small blossoms are further embossed atop the surface, stitched in enough small detail to see the individual stamen floating inside the flowers.
The gradient effect of the silk's transition from dark to light, near white to near red, bears a striking and highly intentional resemblance to the symbol he has worn on his back since childhood.
She picks it up daintily with shaky hands, tears welling again in her eyes. Sasuke is sure that the symbolism of being presented with a formal uchiwa fan isn't lost on her, this highly intelligent woman he is enamored with; it is a confession, as loud as he is capable of. He reaches out, then, and gently turns the fan over in her hands, so that she may see the small characters carved delicately on the back of the handle, so that there is no confusion. She starts crying in full, then, fine fingers caressing her own name, Sakura etched in the wood like it's always belonged there. He hopes the gift is transparent enough, that she can read his declaration, that it is painstakingly clear how he feels about her.
Her lip quivers as tears trace paths down her face. He finds he is itching to follow them with his fingers, to wipe them away again. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Sasuke-kun. I… I'll treasure it. Always," she murmurs breathlessly, cradling his gift close to her heart, and looking up at him with glossy eyes of jade. The sun has finally set behind them.
He wipes away more tears, giving in. "...Always," he agrees shakily, as he finally caves to a different impulse, one that is years old: to kiss her.
Time seems to stand still when their lips finally meet, the fan still clutched protectively in one of her hands between them. Her other hand delicately wraps around his neck, holding him close as tears of happiness spill from her eyes. He returns the gesture, wrapping a lone arm around her waist. It is an achingly sweet first kiss; he can feel her trembling, her love for him. He hopes she can feel his, how his heart has beat exclusively for her for years.
Sasuke is finally home.