TW on this chapter, yall.
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Covenant
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Synopsis: In a harmonious world, who takes the blame?
What sins are punished and who decides?
Does vengeance leave with the last of its enemies?
As society rebuilds itself, Sakura learns some things can't be restored.
Not all beginnings start anew—not every ending brings closure.
And sometimes, peace isn't always that peaceful.
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3:7. A Saturday
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SAKURA WOULD remember the day it happened like this:
It was a Saturday.
She hadn't slept particularly poorly. Not particularly well, either. Though considering not bad was as well as she could hope for these days, she'd classify it as a good night's sleep.
The spare bed was plushy and warm. Outside, rain clouds hid the sun, painting the windows a light gray; their tears playing a gentle melody on the roof.
Storms usually brought melancholy in with them, but this budding spring shower wasn't all that bad. The compound was empty of its usual bustling noise. Bush warblers sung over water splashing into puddled dirt roads. No one out to scare them away, frogs croaked at one another from their hiding spots.
Awake far earlier than she needed to be, Sakura lay there with half a mind, listening to the sound of life just beyond the bedroom walls.
She would remember feeling comforted by it—that otherwise dreary Saturday morning.
Hinata roused her from bed at a reasonable time, a damp note from the Hokage Tower clinging to her fingers. Because of Konoha's pardon, per Kakashi's request, the Kage were convening next week. Sensei wanted his students to attend.
Still rubbing rest from their eyes, the three of them sat over steaming cups of coffee at Hinata's small dining room table.
Naruto complained about the Summit's timing, accusing Kakashi of forgetting the date when he set it. Sakura shrugged apathetically. The drink was too hot to sip, but she did so anyway, scalding her tongue and burning her throat in the process. Of that, too, she felt only indifferent.
No one celebrated birthdays anymore. When she said as much, Naruto looked appalled.
"What do you mean? We celebrated mine. You're turning twenty-three, Sakura! Even if it's late, we're throwing you a party when we get back."
"We can have it here," Hinata added. "I don't mind."
Sakura found the woman's nodding support a little ironic since Hinata hadn't done anything for hers.
But she hummed something of an agreement rather than point that out and put up a fight. Against Naruto, it was an argument she was sure to lose. How Hinata managed it was beyond her.
They had celebrated Naruto's, after all. The memory hazed back to her as soon as he said it. She could've sworn a third of Konoha packed itself into that tiny bar just a month and a half after her discharge from the hospital. They'd all gotten too drunk, too loud, and stayed far longer than a Tuesday night called for.
Despite that, to Naruto's credit, it hadn't been half as depressing as she'd anticipated. Really, she shouldn't have expected any less. He always seemed to light up a room.
A party wouldn't be terrible, she supposed, if Naruto was the host. So long as the guest list didn't include another open invitation to the whole village. Not that so many people would show up for her, anyway.
The air was slightly chilly. The mug heated her hands. Her flannel pajamas smelled of their fabric softener—her hair of their conditioner. Hinata had brewed the coffee perfectly. Bacon crackled on the stove. They chatted about nothing and smiled over nothing and Sakura soaked in the pleasantly unremarkable moment.
It was nice—this Saturday morning. That's how Sakura would remember it.
Three swift, hard knocks on the front door shattered it all.
They froze in unison, glancing at each other before Hinata set down her drink and stood with a hushed, "I'll see who it is."
"Stay here," Naruto whispered a moment later, following after his girlfriend.
Worried it might be an Elder come to drag her out, Sakura peered around the small dining room for a place to hide before remembering where she was. Concealing herself was pointless. Any above-average Hyuuga would likely sense her chakra under its suppression whether they could physically see her or not.
But her worries were unfounded; after only a minute, Hinata returned, no angry Elder on her heels. Sakura eyed the woman over her mug, brow raised in a question.
"Who was it?" she asked.
"An ANBU from the Hokage Tower. Kakashi summoned Naruto for something."
Sakura eased back into her chair. "Oh, good." At least it wasn't Hiashi, here to yell at his daughter for harboring a fugitive. She'd taken to calling herself that in the past few days—much to Naruto's displeasure. If he didn't get so worked up about it, she would've made the joke once and never thought of it again. "Did they say what for?"
"No, but he's called over there pretty frequently. I doubt it's anything important. Kakashi makes him go just to help with his paperwork sometimes."
"Really? Sensei rarely summons me."
The corner of Hinata's mouth turned up. "Probably because you have a job."
In there was a slight tease against Naruto. Sakura couldn't help but chuckle.
"That's true, I guess." And now that she was thinking about it—"Hey. If you ever want to get out of the house, I'd be happy to hire you at the hospital. Or you could volunteer, if you don't want set hours. Naruto says you've got some skill in healing."
"Only enough for the most basic things," Hinata said softly. "I don't think I'd be much help."
"Any help is welcome. We've got all levels of medics working there. I wouldn't mind teaching you, either."
Clearing her and Naruto's drinks from the table, Hinata strolled into the kitchen. "I'll think about it. I still have duties for my clan, but maybe once I get everything transitioned over to Hanabi…"
"No pressure." Sakura brought her mug and took the space beside Hinata at the sink, drying the cleaned dishes as Hinata passed them. "Just let me know."
By the time Sakura looked over her shoulder to check, the bacon had burned. Not up for cooking another batch, they ate it anyway. Hinata wrapped the leftovers in a paper towel to stow away for Naruto. It'd been his idea to make it in the first place—neither woman cared much for bacon.
But within that easy Saturday morning, Sakura would remember not minding the slight charcoal taste or the hard crunch.
Half an hour later, yet another knock interrupted their conversation. This time, it was Hinata being summoned.
"Will you be alright here by yourself?" she asked, hand on the doorknob, outfitted in her jonin attire. Although Kakashi retired her from the harder missions, she'd still kept her rank.
"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me," Sakura placated.
"If anyone you don't want to talk to comes by, you can ignore them. I'll deal with it when I get back."
"Got it."
"You can call Hanabi over if you need anything. There's a spare key in that drawer." She pointed to the small table in the hallway. "Take it with you if you want to go somewhere. The compound's gates are never locked, so you should be able to get in and out without any trouble."
Sakura smiled; Hinata was much more motherly than she'd realized. "How long will you be gone?"
"I'm not sure. The ANBU didn't say. But if Naruto and I won't be home tonight, I'll send you a note."
"Sounds good."
Hinata's feet fidgeted. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I feel bad leaving you here by yourself."
Usually, that sort of sentiment would've rubbed her the wrong way. In Hinata's unassuming tone, however, it sounded genuinely regretful. Like a host who was abandoning their guest.
"Yes, I'm sure I'll be okay. Plus, I've been meaning to read some of your books. You've got a few on chakra control I haven't seen before, so this is good timing."
"Oh, yes, please feel free to read any of them."
Waving her hand at the door, Sakura grinned. "Thank you. I'll do that. Now don't keep Kakashi waiting too long."
Reluctantly, Hinata stepped into the rain. Left to the empty house, Sakura stretched with a sigh and headed up the stairs to the spare bedroom. She did want to read those books. But the drizzle's patter was making her sleepy, and the books would still be there after a nap.
Crawling back under the sheets, she couldn't help but laugh at herself. How long ago was it that she'd last slept in the middle of the day, not out of necessity? When had she had the time? Felt safe enough to do it anywhere but in her own space?
When had her head been quiet enough to let her?
Surely, somewhere in the past, there'd been such a time. Before the war. Back when the most pressing thing in her life was making sure she didn't fall too far behind—surely she'd taken naps.
Then life had come at her faster than she could catch it, and naps became a luxury she couldn't afford. Even now, she felt the small pang of guilt nudging her to go do something. Anything. Despite having absolutely nothing to do but read a new book.
Sakura would remember that Saturday being so peaceful that she fell back asleep at noon.
But it was the third knock that Sakura would remember most. The one so loud it shocked her awake from the other side of the house. She felt Naruto's chakra pulse a moment later; signaling to her that it was only him.
She made her way back downstairs slowly, slightly annoyed that he'd woken her to get into his own home.
Swinging the door open with more force than necessary, she started to say, "Did you forget your—" before the look on Naruto's face made her balk.
Quivering brows. A jaw clenched so tightly together she could see veins. Red, puffy blue eyes. They trembled as he met hers; though the rain hid it, she was certain he was crying. He stood so still, he could've been caught in Shikamaru's jutsu—so still under the early spring shower.
And she knew. She just knew.
Watching him, it felt like a stone had dropped in her stomach. Drenched and crying and staring at her like the world was ending. She felt sick.
She knew. She didn't know how she knew; she just did.
But she wasn't going to think it. So long as she didn't, it could stay just a nightmare.
"What's going on? What happened? Where's Hinata?" she fired off. But he merely stood there, stiff as a board. She was going to throw up. "Naruto...!"
That snapped him out of it. Flying forward, he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug, sending her stumbling back before she caught them both. Soaking her pajamas. Reactively, her hands landed on his shuddering back, gaze falling on the figure hidden behind him.
Through the grey of the storm, Kakashi's face was white as her bedsheets.
"What's wrong?!" she shouted, unable to control her voice. Clutching Naruto against her.
He shook like a leaf as he wept into her hair.
Without replying, the Hokage stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. Fished in his pocket. Sakura couldn't see what he snagged over Naruto's tall shoulders.
Something was horribly wrong.
She hated the dread clawing at her throat. The quiet way Kakashi regarded her. Hated how Naruto was burying his pain in the crook of her neck.
Hated that she already knew.
She knew.
Her eyes welled up. "Sensei." Her voice cracked. "Please—don't."
Let me be wrong, she begged. Please, God, let me be wrong. I'll do anything you want—anything. I'll change my whole life. I'll pray to you every night. Please, please, let—
Abruptly, Naruto squeezed her so tight her mind went blank. Air collapsed in her lungs in a rough gasp. Before she could push him away, cool metal clicked around her right wrist.
Sealing off half her chakra. Suppressing her.
Sights darting wildly back to Kakashi, she saw him close his eyes as he locked a second band into place on her left one faster than she could yell at him not to.
Sakura would remember it like this—
It was in this exact moment—with Naruto sobbing, trapping her in place halfway into his living room; with Kakashi firmly holding both her wrists against his back—that the realization fell upon her like an avalanche.
The Gods weren't listening. They never had. They never would.
And she fucking knew what Kakashi was about to tell her.
The answer was loud as devastation in the tension of sensei's shoulders. Deafening in Naruto's choking by her ear. Real as the metal was, tight on her arms.
"Sakura," Kakashi murmured, the word soft and heavy and rotten in its serenity. "I have to share something very serious with you. I'm… I'm sorry."
His apology was too much. His tone not matching his expression, his using the warning shot she'd said so many times to families of patients who—
No! She didn't want to hear it. She couldn't. If she never heard it, it wouldn't be real. If Kakashi locked it in his lungs forever, they could turn back time before it settled into the universe.
But no sound came from her lips when she tried to stop him. Her mouth hung open, unable to form the words. Kakashi swallowed. She watched his Adam's apple bob under his mask in slow motion. On her shoulder, her shirt glued to her skin, cold and wet from Naruto's tears.
The world slammed to a halt—time froze—the three of them held the same breath.
And she already knew who it was. He didn't have to tell her.
She wished that he wouldn't.
"Ino is dead."
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During dinner, she tells Mom about the girl who sits two rows ahead of her at the Academy. She's got blond hair just like a princess and the bluest eyes she's ever seen. Pretty, funny, smart—everyone in class likes her. The teachers do, too, because she comes from a founding clan.
Sakura repeats the joke the girl told that made all their classmates laugh. Even Dad chuckles. Mom suggests she make a new friend, but why would a girl like that want to be friends with her?
What's her name? Mom asks.
It's the first time in her life Sakura says it out loud. Ino Yamanaka.
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Someone pokes her forehead. Sakura, right?
Sniffling, she looks up into soft blue. She's never seen Ino outside of class; Sakura doesn't know what to do. Before she has time to figure it out, Ino's already telling her she'd heard someone with a big forehead was crying over here, behind the tree. Wiping her nose, Sakura's eyes fall to the ground.
Ino's fingers are warm and gentle as they brush against her and lift away her bangs. For a moment, Sakura's afraid. Of the popular girl in front of her—of the cruel things she'll say. Then Ino's tying her hair back with a red ribbon, urging her to be more confident so the others stop teasing her. The words don't hurt. So surprised, Sakura lets her do it without moving an inch.
You look really pretty like this, Ino says when she's finished. She offers Sakura a hand to help her up out of the dirt. Want to be friends?
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Her opponent is Ino. Sakura's excited and dismayed at the same time. She wants to prove herself to her longest friend and first rival, but she doesn't want to be the reason Ino doesn't make it to chunin. Doesn't want Ino to be the reason she doesn't make it to chunin. Honestly, she wishes they'd both make it together.
But she can't tell Ino that. Ever since her declaration years ago, they haven't been as close as they were as children. It's her fault. She isn't quite sure why she can't just let their friendship rekindle whenever Ino tries, though it must have something to do with her pride.
So when they tie, Sakura's not disappointed about failing the exam. And when Ino offers another olive branch, a headband lying in her outstretched palm, she takes it.
Ino smiles warmly, just like Sakura remembers. You've bloomed into a beautiful flower.
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She hears about it before Team Ten returns. Asuma's been killed, but all Sakura can do is think about Ino.
The day they're set to return, she goes to Ino's house to wait. Her parents are subdued and quiet. She eats dinner with them in complete silence. Ino finally knocks on the door in the middle of it, and Sakura runs to open it before her mother can even leave her seat.
She stays the night, watching Ino fly through ten emotions a minute. Listening to her tell stories about her sensei and things she wishes she'd done. They lay beside each other in bed, talking about their childhood and how strangely fast everything can change.
It's the first time in ten years of friendship that Sakura sees Ino cry.
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Four months of war feels like four years. She hates the tents they have to sleep in every night. She hates how loud the base is. Hates how much people expect of her. Hates how many patients she has to treat every day. There's so much blood and screaming and death—Sakura doesn't know how Tsunade manages it all so calmly.
Most of all, she hates the fighting. That's why, when shishou tells her she's being assigned to a detail team for the jinchuriki, Sakura's relieved. But she hates that she's leaving behind Ino. Ino being Ino, though, just scolds her for the tears as they hug goodbye.
Stop crying like I'm already dead, Forehead. I won't go that easily. Smiling as they pull away, Ino wipes Sakura's cheeks with the pad of her thumb. Still as warm and gentle as the first time they spoke. We'll see each other sooner than you know.
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There were thirty-two panels on the hospital room's ceiling. Sixteen wires. Twelve pieces of art. Eight machines. Seven chairs. Six fluorescent lights. Five books. Four drapes. Four leather belts. Three windows. Three tables. Two beds. Two doors. Two sinks. Two metal bracelets. One bathroom. One table. One chart. One patient.
Sakura counted them when she was awake, over, and over, and over, and over. When she grew tired of that, she tallied things out her window.
Thirteen clouds. Eleven roofs. Ten trees. Five birds. Four people. Three benches. Two streetlights. One sign.
But outside was constantly changing. Two clouds. Twelve birds. Three people. One discarded, fluttering napkin. Eventually, she'd return to the items in her room and their stability.
Whatever sedative they were feeding her kept her from doing much else. It also kept her dreams light and happy—and always about Ino. She dreamed about the past. Dreamed of things that had never happened.
Things that never would, now.
In some, they practiced her hinge in Fire's forests. Ino helped her disinfect base medical. She ran her fingers through Ino's hair in a cramped tent. In others, they celebrated Ino's eighteenth birthday at her favorite restaurant in Konoha. They turned twenty at a bar with everyone they graduated with. Their children played together in the park in Konoha's square.
Ino was everywhere. In her thoughts, sitting at her bedside. She was the medic who brought her food and the shadow her monitors cast. So prevalent, Sakura almost forgot that she was gone.
Almost.
They said she hanged herself. Who would say such a thing if it weren't true? It had to be, then. Even if Ino was still filling every empty space she could find.
The tears fell, though she couldn't really feel them. And Sakura understood why they'd made her like this. Shizune, with the heavy dose of calmative—Kakashi, with the chakra suppressors and the thick leather straps tying her down to the bed.
Hadn't she done the same to sensei? She was certain that had happened, though she had difficulty recalling anything that didn't involve blue eyes and a bright grin.
And what else could they do? Even she knew this reality was dangerous for her and those around her. No medic alive could counter her jutsu if she turned it on herself. If she lost her mind, who left in Konoha but Naruto or the Hokage could stop her if she rampaged? Would those two even fight with the necessary force if she was their opponent?
So yes. As a medic, she understood this involuntary numbing. As a friend, she knew the lengths someone was willing to go for a loved one.
But she wanted to feel it. Desperately, desperately wanted to feel it. Ino deserved that much from her.
…Would have deserved. Even this small tinkering in thought should've hurt and didn't.
Forced to be like this, instead—it was all wrong. Everything about it. Knowing Ino was never coming back without being able to process it. Seeing her laugh and joke when she closed her eyes, unable to right it with the truth. Watching every person on the street morph into a beautiful, blond-haired princess and not falling apart over it.
Her life had reduced to this: Everything going horribly wrong with no ability to change it. What five and a half years of sacrifice had bought her was a future without her very best and first friend.
And she couldn't even mourn it properly.
All she could do was lie here, counting the dust in the air.
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The door opened; in walked Ino.
...Medication made Sakura coherent enough to know it wasn't really her. Ino was gone. And not just for a few days, but gone forever.
Again—that strange awareness didn't hurt like it was supposed to. Just another small cut. One more complacent thought that should've hit like a kunai but landed soft as a feather.
Although, unwell as she was, she couldn't make the person's face change back to their own, even knowing it was a lie. At some point in her stay, she'd given up trying. How long it'd been now, how many times she'd attempted—Sakura had no idea. It wouldn't have surprised her if someone said a hundred days had passed since they'd tied her to this hard, barred bed.
Letting her head fall to the side, she gazed out the window. Unable to look the woman she'd let down most in the eye.
That was half the reason she'd started asking her loved ones to leave whenever they tried to visit.
The ones she had left, anyway. Too few to fill more than a single hand, now. It should've hurt. If she could sense it stronger than a prick, she would've hated how that, too, didn't feel like a thing.
The other half: They'd come in here, wanting to hold her hand. Trying to soothe her the way that had always worked best. Brushing her hair off her forehead, rubbing her arms. Any physical touch they could think of, short of unbinding her for a hug.
All the touching was needles on her skin. Their empty words grated her ears. Her stomach turned at the hollow shadow under their eyes. Every time they showed up by her bedside, she wasn't sure if they sought to console her or were looking to console themselves.
No one wanted to miss something. No one wanted to leave this occupied hospital room and return to an empty one tomorrow. No one wanted her alone long enough to do something drastic.
None of them wanted to lose her like she'd lost Ino.
Maybe if she'd done as they did now, she wouldn't have. That idea was the worst of them all, and it hounded her whenever they came, with their painfully warm touches and sickeningly barren consolations.
So she turned them away. Everyone but Shikamaru, who hadn't visited a single time.
"I've brought lunch, Haruno-sama," said a voice she knew wasn't Ino's despite it sounding exactly alike.
The honorific tipped her off. It was only a medic-in-training, one of the newer ones charged with feeding uncooperative patients. She heard a tray click against a table and a body fall into a chair.
How odd must it be for whoever this trainee was, Sakura thought. As a subordinate—watching over their medicated, bound superior.
"Try some of it." Pleading with them to eat. "I was told it's one of your favorite dishes from the hospital kitchen. The cooks made it especially for you."
Like always, she didn't respond. And like always, the medic tried a few more times before giving up and kindly bidding her goodbye.
The food sat untouched until another not-Ino came in with a new tray for dinner. She merely gazed out the window as they talked to themselves about her meal. Whatever it was. Sakura never looked.
Whether she ate or not, the IVs dripping into her would keep her alive.
She might've fallen asleep during the wait. Might've counted the same things over again. Everything seemed to blur together until her days were mixed up and muddied.
Only yesterday, she'd gone to the flower shop and found Ino overwatering a pot.
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Rummy. Ino lays down three cards, smirking. Want to play again?
Sakura scoffs at the question and the smirk on the other woman's face. If she wasn't sure before, she is now—Ino's cheating. Outside her tent, the base's nightly activities are in full swing. People banging on pots, pretending they sound like drums. Whoops and hollers as a group eggs on whatever nonsense someone's gotten into. Even with a cheater, playing cards is better than lying alone, listening to it all. Begrudgingly, Sakura gathers them up and starts shuffling.
Things have gotten quiet lately, haven't they? Ino asks.
Doesn't sound very quiet to me.
I mean the fighting.
Uncertain how to respond, she stays silent. It's true—the war's died down since the news about Sasuke came in six months ago. The quiet is a good thing. Sakura should be happy about it. The reason for the reprieve, however, is still too painful to touch on.
I hope we get to go home soon. Ino says.
She hopes so, too; rather than saying so, she jokes—What will we even do with ourselves without some maniac trying to kill us all the time?
Be happy. Duh, Forehead. Ino banters back. Stretching her hand out, she wags her fingers. Give me those. You're shuffling too slow.
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How long would they keep her here?
Sometimes, between the counting and the sleeping, Sakura wondered. Until things beyond this room got better? Until she got better?
Did they intend to keep her forever, then?
Maybe if she protested, Shizune would sign her discharge papers. It was against hospital policy to keep someone admitted involuntarily longer than 72 hours, after all, and she was sure she'd been here far, far longer. Maybe if she told Naruto or Kakashi when they visited that she wanted out, rather than quietly turning away from them until they left, they'd have some mercy.
Sakura couldn't get the words out to do it, though. She hadn't spoken in so long that her mouth felt sewn.
And if she gave it more than a passing thought, she wasn't certain she wanted out. Outside this room, what was left? Without the calmatives, how much would it hurt?
She wanted to feel it. To grieve. To give Ino what was owed.
But once she grieved, that'd be it. Grieving meant accepting that Ino was well and truly forever gone. She wouldn't be at the flower shop. She wouldn't ever meet her for lunch. They'd never get drinks after work, or go shopping, or send each other ridiculous notes.
There were so many little things Sakura had taken for granted that she'd never have again if she let herself grieve. At least within the white walls of this hospital room, some parts of Ino remained.
Maybe it was better to rot away in here.
"Sakura."
She hadn't heard anyone come in. Her eyes darted to the door faster than her mind could tell them not to. Ino stood there, a bit taller than she'd last been. Glancing away quickly, Sakura let the sedative wash over her startled nerves.
Someone sat down beside her. Whoever it was didn't touch her. Thankfully.
"You have to eat the food they left."
She didn't remember anyone bringing food today.
"...Sakura."
If she ignored them long enough, whoever it was would leave. They always did. She wished they wouldn't come at all. Everyday, they pushed into her space and weathered her silence when all she wanted was to be left alone.
"Annoying."
Her head whipped back to the person, body jerking against her restraints. Ino's face wavered and dispersed—giving way to Naruto.
Brows creasing, she relaxed into the bed. That word had made her expect someone else, but she supposed even Naruto got annoyed by things if they carried on long enough. Though she stared at him blankly, she didn't turn away again.
"I've been trying to talk to you," Naruto murmured, searching her face. "Why are you blocking off the seal?"
Her sights narrowed. If she had blocked off the seal, she'd done so unintentionally.
Had Sasuke sent Naruto here to ask her that? Was it Naruto trying to talk to her and the seal comment was unrelated, or did he mean Sasuke had been trying?
Naruto's jaw flexed at her silence. "Open it."
Without thought, Sakura found herself following the order. Looking within, wrangling the little chakra she had to probe at it. And sure enough, the seal was walled off, the foreign chakra in it locked tight.
She dissolved the blockade. Anyone else was too much, but perhaps she could handle speaking to Sasuke. He'd already seen her at her worst; wouldn't try convincing her everything would get better.
It's me.
Blinking at the speed of his acknowledgment, Sakura hesitated. Debating for half a second whether she wanted to let him in, this time.
But he was already there. Heat from the seal crept down her chest. His mind was pressing against hers, searching. With him, it didn't make her shrink away.
Maybe he'd always been there. From six years old—maybe he'd lodged himself in her for so long he was simply part of her now.
She said the first and only thing on her mind. Ino's dead.
"Kakashi told me."
It was enough to make her buck into the leather straps a second time, eyes wide as she peered at her teammate in disbelief.
"Naruto...?" Her voice was little more than a croak; his name dragged out of her throat like sandpaper.
"No." It's only a transformation.
She couldn't believe it. She had to be hallucinating the conversation.
This was Naruto. Sasuke was still in the dungeons, awaiting release. Kakashi wouldn't let him out just to come to the hospital, even with her here. Not with the Council breathing down his back and the village in an uproar.
"The paperwork went through yesterday," he said softly, eyes dropping to the straps around her torso. "They released me an hour ago."
"Sasuke?" she amended, unable to wrap her head around it.
Yes, Sakura.
"Where's Naruto?"
"Shh... At home."
"Why—looking like him—you're here?" The question made no sense.
And though he'd heard the gibberish, he answered like it was coherent. "They wouldn't have let me in as myself."
"But why are you here?" she pressed.
His gaze lifted to hers. "Why do you think?"
Her chin was starting to quiver as they stared at each other. Ino wasn't anywhere, anymore. Not cloaked over him, not forming in the shadows.
There was only him. And her. Alone in this hospital room in their hometown. The only two people in the whole world sharing this captivity. She couldn't do anything but lie here; he couldn't do anything outside the city walls. They couldn't go anywhere, couldn't be anything more than the roles others had forced them into. They'd stay locked in this place forever, remembering everything painful that would never let them go.
"She's gone, Sasuke," she choked out, finally feeling the wetness streaming down her temples. "She's gone!"
Standing, he reached out and unlatched her restraints. One by one, until she was free for the first time in what must've been years. Then he sat on the edge of her bed, lifted her forward, and held her to Naruto's chest. Just like he always did.
It wasn't as broad as Sasuke's. On her back, the hands felt thicker than she knew his were. But it was his comfort. She would know it anywhere. The sureness of his embrace, the sound of his breathing, the way the world beyond his gently offered protection faded away.
Except he couldn't save her from this.
"You did everything you could," he soothed, voice near her ear.
Until he said the words, Sakura hadn't even known how vehemently she disagreed. Hadn't let herself realize—
That was why these tears were so excruciating. She hadn't done everything. She hadn't done anything.
Ino had needed her. Her first and best friend had needed her.
And she'd left that flower shop without looking back.
sorry guys 3
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and thanks to Leech for beta-reading