¤ Chapter 6.: Best friend ¤
On the next day, the day off, the pink-haired girl decided to investigate the cell phone, which she now understood was not the work of the devil as she had originally assumed, but a deliberate, thoughtful, and sophisticated move by her mother.
Tsunade prepared everything; the house, the space; she drove the headmaster crazy enough to accept her to study without any protest, and not only that, but to put her in the same study group that belonged to the black-haired Uchiha. Sakura realized that Tsunade had prepared this device in case the typically human moment that the pink-haired girl had read about many times in her textbooks - if someone decided to request her phone number so they could contact her anytime in the following days.
With a sour grimace, she looked at the silver device she was idly fiddling with in her right hand. Did she doubt that such a situation would occur with one person, given the events that had transpired between them - or rather, not transpired?
Their communication could not even be called a conversation. The fleeting, short glances he used to inform her of the blonde's state of health definitely couldn't be considered as a conversation. And given his 'communicative' and 'friendly' nature, Sakura doubted she would be able to pick out the request for her contact in the mix of 'hm', ' hmp ', smirks, and snorts.
She shook her head to banish unwanted thoughts of the dark-haired man; emerald eyes again wandered to the mobile phone, which she was restlessly turning and turning in different directions in her hands. She didn't want to admit it, but she couldn't deny it anymore – the blonde's absence, his not answering her calls and messages frustrated her, and believe it or not, figuring out the principle and understanding the workings of this damned device wasn't easy for Sakura.
She tried it first thing in the morning, twice in fact; later, even in the afternoon, when the sun was high enough in the clear blue sky when she figured that her blond friend must not be asleep anymore because the sun's rays were burning, tearing through the curtains on the windows, only to reach the interiors of the house. She wasn't even surprised when her next attempt failed again; she just flopped down on the couch in frustration and let the device lie loosely next to her thin body. As her hand rested on her stomach, she noticed that she had lost quite a bit of weight in the few days she had been here in Konoha. Looking at her reflection in the mirror she looked almost sick but decided not to dwell on it or pay much attention to it, she had more important things to do than her appearance.
She mimicked the blonde's favorite position when he was interested in her current spot on the couch; she laid her exhausted and sore feet on the coffee table, thinking that she considered this activity one of the best human things in the world, even if she would have to forget it when she got home. A lady of her status wouldn't be able to afford such a thing. However, she was now an ordinary Haruno Sakura, a human girl who had no obligations and no worries... She shook her head again, not understanding where her thoughts were going today. It was enough for her to think of a tiny little thing, and a pleasant breeze stirred their flow into endless threads that connected with each other, driving her further in thought, but they had one thing in common - each ended with a cold and mysterious dark-haired man.
The pinkette sighed tiredly; the solitude was clearly not doing her any good. She felt more than alone in this house; she felt... empty.
Reluctantly, she raised her left hand in the air, wearily closed the heavy eyelids that were burning her, and, with light movements of her fingers, opened several drawers that were removed on the other side of the room. Subsequently, a familiar folder landed on the pink-haired girl's knees, her lips pouting over it as she opened it.
Nothing.
Still, nothing was there except his photo and name. Yes, she added that he has an older brother named Itachi, whom she met personally and by chance, but this fact did not make her situation any easier. The older Uchiha did not seem to be a suitable piece in the puzzle she had to assemble from her and Sasuke's person.
The pinkette wryly imagined her mother praising her for such a mission – although, her existence in Konoha had its benefits as Sakura discovered a new side of her, a new character trait she was just getting to know. She found charm in ironic undertones and sarcastic snide remarks; she could only assume that the black-haired Uchiha's arrogant demeanor had left her. But she had to admit that she was still nowhere near his level.
She looked sadly at his photo, which she took out of the folder and held between her thumb and forefinger with a gentle squeeze.
She knew insanely little about him, but on the other hand, she unconsciously denied those words - she knew he was cold, arrogant, egotistical, and self-centered, which he showed with every smirk, every eye roll, every snort he directed her way. But she also knew, suspected, that with one of his smirks, when his eyes narrow slightly, and his head tilts playfully to the side, he shows signs of slight amusement. She knew that sometimes when he rolled his eyes in annoyance, he was only trying to suppress the emotions he would otherwise show; she felt that with every snort, he was telling her that she was stupid, that she was missing something, but on the other hand, he was pushing her in the right direction and helping her to notice details that she had overlooked before. She would have done it perhaps a thousand times more if she had been he did not warn them.
More than once, during the teacher's boring explanation, the pink-haired girl turned her head slightly to at least look at the dark-haired boy, who was leaning on his desk with his chin buried in his palm and with an uninterested expression. He caught her doing it more than once as his hawk-like black pupils shifted to her in a split second, boring into her emerald eyes. Sakura saw no disgust, contempt, or hatred. Sometimes, when he gently raised his black eyebrows, she almost felt like she could see tiny sparks of amusement and playfulness in his eyes, as if he was challenging her to another duel of gazes. Still, she couldn't stand his intense gaze, feeling ashamed, caught in the act, and immediately turned away sight – something that didn't go without the black-haired sneer as he triumphantly returned to his previous activity.
Sakura knew that she shouldn't think of him as an ordinary person like that. What would her mother say to that? Which of the hundred and sixty expressions of disappointment should she have?
The pinkette thought, should she add the few little things she knew about him from the past to the folder? Would it help her at all, or would it only cause more problems, if she then handed the file over to the archives to be sealed; in the subsequent debriefing of the mission, she would have to submit to various questions that she could not rationally explain, not without telling the truth.
Crouching her index finger, she summoned a pencil. Better here than a phoenix feather dipped in ink, as this could easily be erased if needed or if she deemed the information written down inappropriate for anyone but her emerald eyes.
Cursed mark - She wrote these two words and leaned her back against the couch exhausted; did he still have it, or did the seal withdraw over the years and never be renewed?
It had been many years, but the question had plagued her almost every day since the first time she had seen it on his neck so many years ago; it seemed unreal. She almost sometimes thought that it never happened at all, that it was one of her fanciful dreams and visions that never came true.
The pink-haired girl put the folder aside along with the unsharpened pencil, closed her eyes, and massaged her temples with the tips of her fingers in gentle circular motions. Solitude didn't do her any good; she couldn't remember the last time she'd been alone for so long without talking to anyone.
"Maybe I should visit him," she whispered as she wondered why the blond hadn't heard from her in such a long time; she wondered if he might be too exhausted to pay attention to anyone but immediately dismissed the idea as silly.
After all, she heard with her own ears how the blond yelled at someone; then, he hurried to end their conversation. She heard a third person's voice, a male voice that said a strange word that didn't mean anything to Sakura.
Her eyes widened, and she jumped to her feet. She opened her arms wide, clenching her fists in excitement as she felt a rush of energy-green flames coursing through her veins as they sent light signals to her fingers, causing tiny sparks to shoot out. She loved—adored—the feeling of her power being able to rise to the surface when she could play with material objects as she pleased.
"Usuratonkachi," she said with a hint of darkness reflecting off the walls; green sparks started bouncing around, hitting walls and cupboards, entering the bathroom, kitchen, and her room, and bringing lots of books, papers, and notes.
She repeated the unknown word again, causing the irrelevant books to return to their place and those that contained any resemblance or mention of the word to rise to her eye level and flip to the appropriate page.
Sakura adored this spell; it was her own creation when she was younger, and Tsunade overwhelmed her with the amount of scrolls and information she had to absorb like a sponge over a few days, sometimes in one night. It was her little word finder, or as she liked to call it, a quick dictionary of foreign words.
"Usura," Sakura read aloud the scrap on the page that appeared first before her face. "Vague, indeterminate," she found the meaning of the word; frowning in displeasure, she waved her hand to remove the current book from view and the next in line to appear in its place. "Ton – ton," her anger widening, she repeated her earlier gesture. On another book, examining the highlighted search word, her frown deepened as emerald eyes once again took in just a small sliver of her sought after target. "Kachi ..." she sighed, snapping the third book shut with both hands, which she tossed aside. "...victory."
"This was just enough for two things," she snorted in annoyance, grabbing a light, thin coat and reaching for the door to leave. "For nothing and literally for fucking nothing,"
.*.*.*.*.
"Usuratonkachi,"
The blond looked up. His face spoke of exhaustion, despondency, and helplessness; his sweaty hair no longer stood up and stuck out to each side but lay close to his face. Uzumaki's sky-blue eyes moved from the ground to the voice calling him to wake him up from the lethargy he had been in for the past few hours and could not break out of.
Blue irises stared at the strange hand he felt on his shoulder. Glancing at her, he slid to the onyx irises, piercing him intensely. He looked at the stony face that showed no worry or concern; however, the blond knew his best friend better than anyone. He knew that if he was to find the emotions that were raging inside the black-haired man, he shouldn't look at the still muscles in his face nor his unrevealing body language; no, he had to look into his dark eyes, which were like a well of feeling when he learned to read them.
His best friend wasn't the best model of friendship on the outside. Someone disinterested would think the blond was indifferent to him. However, Naruto knew that the black-haired man hated physical contact - like now when he put his hand on his shoulder - and the eye contact he used to create an invisible thread between them was his way of showing that he cared about someone. He already knew these gestures over the years. He knew that these two small gestures were something his closest friend only showed when he was desperate when his rationality failed and receded into the background. The last thing he had left was to show him support in just this way - the way he was giving Naruto let it be known that she was here for him.
The blond was pulled out of his lethargic thoughts by a gentle shake of his shoulder caused by the dark-haired's hand. He shook his head slightly, his sky-blue eyes again looking at his long-time friend.
"Admit it, Teme," the blond said with amusement, causing him to cough heavily; the black-haired man automatically bent down, placing one hand on his back and the other on the center of his chest to support him and keep him seated and prevent him from collapsing to the ground. "You'd miss me,"
"Stop talking bullshits, baka,"
"You'd cry like a little girl," the blond coughed again as his head fell on the black-haired man's shoulder in exhaustion, but as he passed out and his eyes slowly closed, he still managed to catch a small smirk on his friend's face before giving up fighting the sleep that overcame him.
*.*.*.*
The pink-haired girl had run out of patience on her last attempt to when the blond - perhaps the moment she heard a beep from the phone she anxiously pressed to her ear and thought she had finally succeeded.
"Naruto!" she shouted excitedly, her heart in her throat, "Finally! How are yo..." – however, her words were interrupted by another beep and, to her surprise, the blonde's voice.
"Hello! This is Uzumaki Naruto. Leave me a message, dattebayo!" – after another beep, she realized that the voice was his, but he wasn't talking to her; she growled angrily. She momentarily stared blankly at the device before finding the right words to say to him.
"Naruto…" she whispered, blinking back the tears of emotion mixed with nostalgia and sadness. "Please call…"
She wanted to tell him so much; she wanted to tell him that she missed him, that she was sorry that he was avoiding contact with her, that she was mad at him for not keeping his promise to her, that he would call again, that she was frustrated with waiting, that she felt so alone... but none of these feelings, none of these thoughts left her lips. When was all this born in her? When he entered the blond heart, he created a room where he painted orange…
She pursed her chapped lips, running her tongue over the small gashes she had caused from so much desperate nibbling.
"Baka …" she sobbed as she hung up the phone with that last word, deleting the voice recording and throwing the device away; it hit the ground hard – she was almost certain it would be rendered useless, or at least put a dent in it.
Sakura clenched the hand in which she had been clutching the blonde's voice just a moment ago until her knuckles cracked, and with a face filled with determination and anger, she made her way to his house. If the blond didn't want to tell her the truth, she would have to find the answers; she would have to get them herself. Even at the cost of using the monstrous power she inherited from her mother and shattering the walls of the blonde's house to extract from him the reasons he chose to do the way he chose to - to ignore her.
She had had enough of his absence, had had enough of the mysteries surrounding the disappearance of the two girls, had had enough of Sasuke's vague and evasive answers - though she hated to admit it, he was the only connection she had, the only one willing to let her know in the last week that is the blonde okay.
The pinkette concluded that he couldn't be as heartless as he appeared, or else he would have ignored her desperate, pleading looks and overlooked them like every other aspect that occurred around him; otherwise, he wouldn't be permanently aware of how Naruto was doing if he wasn't interested in him. He might be wearing stone and unreadable masks, but Sakura knew - and understood - that he just didn't want to show his fears. She almost thought he didn't want to complain about her situation either because if he gave her even the slightest hint that the blond was suffering, he knew the pink-haired girl wouldn't hesitate for a second to find him, to sit by his bed for days and nights, just to make sure with her own eyes that he wasn't missing anything, to stroke his hair soothingly until he fell asleep, to reassure him that the pain he was feeling would soon pass.
She frowned. She shook her head; that was definitely not how Sasuke thought.
She paused for a moment as she remembered the blonde's words that made it clear to her that the black-haired man was his best friend.
'And I his.' – the blonde's words and voice resonated in her ears as if he was saying them to her right now, as if he was standing next to her, and they looked together again at the black-haired man standing nearby. There was pride in those words when he said them, in his blue eyes when he told her, in the smile he had, as if he knew that he was the only one capable of overcoming the wall the black-haired man had built around him.
Sakura had no doubt that her conclusion was correct; Naruto was the type of person who threw himself into everything, as she had come to find out, so she wasn't surprised that he had thrown himself against Sasuke's iron defenses and smashed through them with his own head, literally. She could almost imagine the blond and the black-haired man—two such different natures, personalities, and characters—standing on opposite sides of the wall. As the blond determinedly tilts his head back to build enough strength, he slams his forehead into the object that separates him from his friend. She could almost see Sasuke's wall come crashing down as Naruto unceremoniously passed her and the black-haired man smirked as the blond beamed at him and roared in his ear that he had done it.
The pinkette heart sank. If she felt like this, helpless, sad, frustrated, disappointed, after only a few days spent with the blond, after one evening when he earned a place in her heart, the position of a friend... how must Sasuke feel, who he had known him for years, who saw him daily and had his condition before his eyes. What feelings must have been raging inside his icy core as he saw the blond in pain if he was truly in pain that he couldn't do anything about?
Instead of hissing and cursing with every step... he came back every day, didn't disappear like the blonde sentient, black-haired vampire; every day, he was there just to let her know with a gentle gesture that didn't last more than a few seconds that their blond friend was okay. The pinkette shook her head and continued walking. She dismissed the thought trying to imprint itself on her mind and anoint her - he certainly wasn't doing this to placate her.
Sakura's determined walk slowed with each passing step as she began to doubt what she had decided to do.
Did she even have the right to barge into his home, to claim her truth, just because she was hungry for answers to her questions?
Naruto grew close to her heart; she wanted to see him and find out why her two friends disappeared overnight. She wanted to understand Sasuke's behavior and know why he even bothered to inform her of their blond friend's health, why when she confronted him that day and begged for answers, he didn't look away and walk away like he was wont to do… she wanted it knowing so much, so much—but did she have the right to demand an explanation from them?
"Sa-ku-ra,"
The pink-haired girl looked up, jade eyes sunken into the ground with so many thoughts shining as she was addressed; however, the moment she realized who the deep and dark voice belonged to, she frowned slightly.
She was almost there, just a few steps, and would have stood in front of the garden that beautified the house, but the Uchiha's tall figure blocked her path.
Strands of raven hair fell into his eyes from behind, and he pierced her with that piercing gaze, causing her entire body to tense. She straightened up to look taller, even though it must have looked childish and stupid. With a hard and fearless gaze, she defied the black-haired man, who represented a wall between her and the blond.
At that moment, she noticed the black-haired man standing with his back to her target. She realized that he had probably left him only a short while ago.
His hands were hidden in his pockets, and even though he tried to appear relaxed, Sakura's attention did not escape his clenched jaw.
Noticing the green eyes were oblivious to him and looking at the house behind him, the black-haired man took a short step to the side to block her view, as if this feeble act could convince the pinkette to turn on her heel and go home.
Opening her emerald eyes wide with disappointment, she shook her head several times in disapproval, her pink strands fluttering.
"I want to see Naruto," she insisted, stepping closer to him.
Sasuke didn't move a single muscle in his face; he wasn't surprised by the rejection and stubbornness of the pink-haired girl whose petite figure stood before him. He knew from the very beginning, from the moment his blond friend collapsed, that it was only a matter of time before the pinkette's patience ran out when his nods, with which he tried to prevent their meeting, would not be enough for her and she decides to find out the truth on her own. He had read it from the first moment he saw it; her green eyes were so clear and transparent as water, and he could read them like an open book.
The black-haired man sighed tiredly, patiently closing his eyes for a short moment.
"No."
Sakura snorted, and the man opened her eyes in response. He just looked at her for a moment, raising his eyebrows slightly at this moment later.
"I've had enough, Sasuke. I want to know what's wrong with him," she protested when she could tell from his look that he had no intention of letting her pass through the barrier he was creating with his own body. The Uchiha narrowed his eyes dangerously as his emerald eyes glinted, causing Sakura to look away. "And if he doesn't want to see me…" she whispered in a broken voice, turning her head to its original position to look at him. " ...let him tell me himself, I..."
"Sakura," he cut her off in a chilling tone. "Go home,"
The pink-haired girl shook at the last word. Shaking her head in disapproval, she defiantly shifted her weight from one leg to the other and crossed her arms over her chest to make it clear that she wouldn't back down until she saw the blond.
"You keep telling me to get out of the way," she began angrily.
Closing the distance between them, she brought her hands to his chest and pushed him to take a step back. She grunted, thrusting into him again, and the black-haired man frowned. Emerald eyes bore into obsidian wells with anger raging within them. She was annoyed that Sasuke didn't even take his hands out of his pockets.
"That Naruto is fine…!" she snapped as her patience ran out.
She placed her hands again on the same spot on his firm chest. This time, however, she felt his muscles tighten; his hands shot out to her forearms to stop her from attacking again. Sakura froze, her muscles turning to stone as she noticed a tiny glimmer in the darkness of the night. It was as if she was looking at a black sky on which a star had just fallen.
"But he isn't, is he?" she breathed in a quieter voice when she finally understood.
His hands moved from her forearms to her shoulders, stopping and squeezing them gently. The pink-haired girl looked up again to meet his eyes; she could see him hesitate in choosing the right words.
"Not today," Sasuke sighed.
Sakura couldn't tell if he was trying to tell her with those two words that the blond wasn't feeling well today, if he wasn't feeling well today if he just wasn't in the condition to handle someone else's presence, or if he was hinting that today wasn't a good time - a good time not only for her, but for anyone to annoy the blond.
What the pink-haired girl noticed, however, were the dark circles under his eyes and the slightly swollen lids - only then did she get a better look at him. He had fine stubble growing on his face, his eyes were tired, his face wrinkled, and the shirt he hid under his black coat was not beautifully smooth and perfectly ironed, as was his wont; no, it was wrinkled as if… 'As if he hadn't slept in days,' Sakura thought as she understood where the obvious tiredness and exhaustion were coming from. The man was trying to convince her not to complain about the situation anymore.
Sakura didn't know which of the thousands of thoughts, which of the thousands of conclusions she came to, was the one that made her nod weakly.
Following her gesture, the black-haired man loosened his grip on her shoulders, letting her go and letting them fall along his body.
And maybe it wasn't a thought, but a memory—a memory that rose from the depths of damnation in her mind as she looked into those sad and tired black eyes, just like the day she'd first looked into them.
*.*.*.*
Thanks so much for reading!
Any comments?
In the next chapter, our pink-haired goddess sets out to find answers to her blonde friend's disappearance! I'm slowly and gradually transitioning to a different perspective than Sakura... Well, you'll see!
As always, I'm sorry for any grammatical errors!