Like Gold

by cherrynojutsu

Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD/survivor's guilt for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

20. Safekeeping

LG Chapter 20: Safekeeping

AN: TW for mentions of cutting towards the end of the chapter. And a big thank you to WaitingIsWasting for betaing this behemoth of a chapter! ❤️

---

Following the feeding of Shiruba, the first of July finds Sasuke and Sakura at a bookstore located in what used to be the outskirts of town.

The establishment overflows with stacks of texts, lining narrow corridors within the building and extending onto the sidewalk outside, contents spilling atop rows upon rows of weathered tables. They wander amongst the semi-organized shelves, steps hushed as the scent of old parchment expands within Sasuke's lungs; his eye catches fine particles of dust swirling in the air above them.

Sasuke's never been here, though he thinks he recalls walking past it once or twice when he was far younger. Its stock is almost entirely secondhand books and other aged writings, a sort of tiny warehouse with shelves upon shelves of yellowing pages and well-thumbed spines bearing the musty scent of yesteryears.

He assumes Sakura knows the owner by the way she exchanged warm greetings with the middle-aged woman at the desk upon walking in. His girlfriend lingered in conversation with her as Sasuke began to wander around, and he noticed that the shopkeep pulled a stack of five or six texts from behind the counter as if she was saving them for her, sectioned neatly atop a monstrous collection of ancient phone books that a sign delineates are free, though no one must want them; they're clearly being used as a makeshift countertop and, judging by the yellowed paper, have been for some time. The few new releases seem to be crowded around the front of the counter there; everything else has the appearance of being fairly worn.

Sasuke meanders through the maze, fingertips lightly grazing the spines of some of the book spines as he walks. Most of the shelves are cornucopian, stacks encroaching into the confines of the walkway. Bathed in the dimly lit glimmer of gray-gold light pollution, he and the one other remaining patron aside from Sakura move about, the faint glow from the setting sun seeping in through the windows on the western of the building.

"They don't have sales terribly often - mainly when she runs out of room like this - but you can find gems, sometimes," Sakura murmurs quietly once she rejoins him and they begin to peruse stacks together instead of him on his own. Sakura seems keenest on the few tables closest to the door where the sale section begins. A ruby red text she opens one-handed releases its own puff of dust. "They're not unreasonably priced to begin with, but when she needs to clear out space, she practically gives them away. So, if they're perhaps not the greatest, at least you didn't invest too much money in the process."

Silently Sasuke thinks that the price in all likelihood matters little to Sakura - she essentially heads the entire hospital and has been doing so for numerous years - and that it's more related to checking in on the store owner, and additionally making sure the pile of books she's kindly saved for her hasn't grown so towering as to become structurally unsound. He can't read the spines of the stack the shopkeep pressed into Sakura's arms at the angle she's holding them, but he supposes he'll be able to later, once she's added them to her living room bookshelf or set them on the table in her entryway.

Two catch his interest from the discounted table, more than reasonably priced at seventy-five percent off: Genjutsu and the Cerebral Nervous System and The New Chushingura. While Sasuke obviously is well-versed in genjutsu, he's less familiar with its medical perspective and the physicalities by which each synapse is influenced in the process. The other book delves into feudal era events that he vaguely recalls learning about when they were children at the Academy. He recollects the tale well enough, but it would be something to do, were he to finish library books early as he does sometimes and want to wait to get new ones until Sakura's free.

They browse for a few more minutes before they reach the doorway again and subsequently journey outside to peruse through those ones, too. These are organized by genre, as the inside of the shop was: parables, suspense, young adult, historical fiction, and so on. Neatly inscribed signs are taped to each table, though it's on smaller paper and resultingly more challenging to read from a distance. Sasuke trails behind Sakura as she scans each array. He himself reads titles on the tables he's more intrigued by, and lingers at the historical fiction table, briefly setting down his two books to flip through the pages and get a sense of the synopses.

His girlfriend flits to the next table - poetry, he reads when he glances over - and begins sifting through the various texts. Most of what's offered on every sale table appears kind of old, but he thinks perhaps the poetry books are so most of all. Upon adding two more volumes to his stack, he picks it back up and reunites with Sakura at the next table; she's added two texts to the top of her own stack, now towering at seven strong. He thinks of the extensive poetry collection that lines the bottom of one of her bookshelves.

Jade eyes shine chartreuse in the fading sunlight when she looks at him briefly, smiling to acknowledge him before her focus drifts back to the tomb currently in her hands. Sasuke himself scans the table, taking note of the tattered covers and corresponding cover art: A World Too Old with a tiny silhouette centered below the title, Solitary Hours with a drawing of a sundial, Lullaby Land adorned with a faded gold candle print. His gaze lingers on Strangers, slate gray with a magnifying glass just below the title; the cover is familiar as it's one of the ones Sakura has in her own collection in her living room.

"I've read most of these," Sakura reveals to his left, to which he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. "I'm going to check out the biography table quick?" He nods, dark eyes following her briefly. She picks up her stack of now eight books, neatly balanced to move to the next table.

Sasuke gingerly sets down his own small stack in addition to the tote bag he's carrying for her and begins sorting through the rest of the poetry books curiously. He hasn't read much of the genre before, but he appreciates quality writing enough in the fiction texts he's read upon his return that it perhaps would be alright to at least look, to see if any are notable to him. He briefly considers purchasing Strangers, fingers tracing the cover with its worn corners; if it's in Sakura's own collection, on the bottom shelf for easy access, there's a solid chance that she likes it.

She would probably loan it to me, Sasuke thinks then. All he would need to do is ask, but therein lies the problem. Borrowing it would imply he's looked at her bookshelves extensively enough to request a specific title; perhaps she would think that's odd.

Another thing occurs to him, then. Conceivably, there is a chance that whatever books he purchases may someday end up on her bookshelves, were they to…

Is that being presumptuous? He thinks of the words for now in an antique store as his brows knit together. It would be pointless, then, to buy it; they'd have two copies.

He places the book aside, deciding against it; he's not particularly intent on thinking that hard about things at present. When he peeks at Sakura, he finds her still sorting through the biographies table a handful of yards away, completely oblivious to his internal conundrum; she's got several of them open to random points in their contents, completely filling the table at present. Her stack of books is precariously balanced in one hand, atop her right hip for leverage.

He'll look through the others instead, see if any others catch his eye. Sasuke supposes, if nothing else, the covers are interesting to look at after a long day of staring at the greenery of the forest that surrounds the village, nothing but trees for miles.

From January, What the Moon Gave, A Culmination, and What Grows in the Garden are examined and set aside as he sorts. So are Auspicious, Legacy Verse, and Flosculous; he's not even sure he knows what that last word means, though he's certain Sakura would know, were he to ask her.

And then another is revealed.

Tongue of a Crow.

The kanji of it are simple, black letters on a gray base. An illustration of its namesake lies above the title, beak open as it calls to something off the edge of the cover's expanse.

Sasuke stares at it and then stares some more, brows furrowing as his hand seems to move on its own provident accord.

He picks a page completely at random and his fate is sealed.

Was I carefree in the back before dark days? I can't remember. What was that book?

Memory's a room with drawn shades, light seeping around the edges, but too dark to read.

Only the shine on her lips glows, beguiling constellations of freckles, her chest against mine, impulses gathering mass. Her smile - was my body ever my own? I can't even hide inside it,

My father's gaze now includes me among his enemies.

Did the monster get me? I want to read that book again. Where did the luminous robin go, once so vivid on my emerald yard?

It cuts at him so deeply that he nearly suspects that he's caught in some manner of genjutsu, laid about by some imaginary enemy who's in some capacity peered into his mind when he least expects it. He allows the pages to fall closed to perform perhaps the most subtly skilled kai release he's ever committed, but nothing happens.

He then stares down at the cover again in obfuscation, markedly unsure what to do with himself. The price is delineated in a neon sticker; next to nothing.

It's then that he hears it.

"Sakwa-sa! Sakwa-sa!"

Despite the fact that she's at the next table, Sasuke turns in unison with Sakura towards the calling of a garbled version of her name. A kid with wild dark hair that can't be older than three, if even that, is frantically waving one arm to reach towards her from the perch of her mother's hip.

It takes a second for Sasuke to recognize that the woman is Yuhi Kurenai, Team Eight's sensei. The kid she has balanced on one side of her must be the one Sakura mentioned. There's a cross shoulder bag balanced at her other hip that's clearly full of groceries from the market, plastic packaging spilling slightly beyond the confines of its edges.

"Mirai! And Kurenai," Sakura acknowledges with a smile, turning in full and briefly glancing down at the stack of books in her arms, then to the table littered with the books she's opened. Sasuke assumes she must want to place them somewhere after a second passes and the kid starts waving their arms even more forcefully, at which her mother laughs and begins to set her down.

Amusingly, his girlfriend seems hesitant to set them on the ground, regarding it with doubt; it's a tall enough stack that the kid might knock it over by accident and damage them, he supposes. While he doesn't think Sakura necessarily cares about the condition of books - she has several in her collection that are surpassingly worn - perhaps she's thinking more along the lines of the fact that she hasn't paid for them yet.

He adds Tongue of a Crow to his stack without thinking any further about it, picking it up along with her bag before coming up beside her. Sasuke then nudges her with his good arm briefly, causing her to look at him with some shock; apparently she didn't expect him to initiate physical contact in public. He casts a glance to the stack in her arms, then back up to meet her eyes in suggestion.

"Thank you," she whispers, handing him the stack to put on top of his and looking very grateful. He's just in time; the kid takes off with agility, clearly speedier than her mother thought she was capable of being, judging by the look of surprise when she reaches Sakura just as he's cleared her hands.

"Sakwa-sa!" The kid wraps her arms around Sakura's legs in a hug, grinning.

"Sorry, Sakura," Kurenai says, following her daughter and tone apologetic. "I forget that she gets faster every day; growing like a weed." Red eyes briefly scan Sasuke, and the woman nods in acknowledgment, so Sasuke dips his chin in some sort of silent greeting.

"Up! Up!"

Sakura laughs as she stoops to pick her up. "It's no trouble; I get it." Balancing the kid on her hip with a familiarity that speaks to the fact she indeed is the girl's regular doctor in addition to having presided over her birth, small chubby hands begin to pat her shoulders.

"You're getting so big, Mirai!" Sakura says, beaming. "I haven't seen you in a bit. How old are you now?"

There's a second where the little girl seems to be computing in which Sasuke spots that she also has crimson eyes like her mother.

"Mmm, dis many!" The girl holds up both her hands and puts them together, at which point her mother shakes her head, trying not to laugh.

"Wow, so big!" Sakura says encouragingly, politely not pointing out that she's about seven years off. "I almost can't even lift you!"

Kurenai chuckles. "Tell me about it." Her gaze briefly travels to Sasuke again, then back to Sakura. "Didn't mean to interrupt your date… just came to see if they had any kids' books before we head home."

Sasuke's neck warms at that, and he notes with some satisfaction that Sakura's does, too, but he supposes it is a sort of date, albeit casual. It still catches him off guard sometimes, other people knowing things about them. He supposes he's not quite used to others having some sort of confirmation on how he feels about her, but he puts the discomfort aside for now. He's not necessarily upset by it; he's just not keen on others knowing where his heart lies so clearly, a defense mechanism of a rough upbringing.

Sakura helpfully gestures with her shoulder to the far north table. "They have them sectioned off over there." She looks to Mirai in her arms again, giving her a brief bounce at which the girl giggles. "What sort of books are you going to look for, Mirai?"

"Buttafwies! They pwetty." An infectious smile overtakes the girl's face. "And fwower. Pink!" The girl, Mirai, reaches out to paw at Sakura's hair.

"Mirai," Kurenai intercuts with the decisive tone of motherly authority, reaching out to block small fingers from grabbing with a fluidity that implies much practice even though Sakura doesn't seem bothered by it. "We talked about this; we don't touch other peoples' hair without permission."

"It pwetty." The girl frowns, but obediently retracts her hands as she's told. "Sakwa-sa pwetty."

Agreed, Sasuke thinks. Sakura meanwhile laughs, positivity infectious.

"Thank you, Mirai. You're pretty, too, you know."

Mirai looks from Sakura to her mother, then back and forth again as both women smile.

"I pwetty, toooooo." She says it in a singsong voice that turns into a giggle. Then she's looking at Sakura seriously, pupils large, as if what she is about to say next is of paramount importance.

"Sakwa-sa have candy?"

Sasuke barely holds back a snort of amusement. It's been so long since he was a kid or around any of them that he forgot children typically receive candy at doctor's appointments after enduring the trauma of needles and immunizations. Of course she would associate Sakura with it.

Kurenai rolls her eyes, sighing, though the smile she wears is doting.

"Sakura-san saves the candy for when we have to get a shot, Mirai; remember?"

A perplexed expression overtakes the child's face, and she turns to look up at Sakura, thinking and face rather abruptly yanked from his line of sight.

If he thought becoming familiar with imagery of Sakura asleep next to him in her bed or eating certain desserts was going to consume him, it is absolutely nothing compared to the way this particular visual steals all breath from his lungs.

All he can see, now that this little girl appears to deeply contemplate Sakura's chin, is a future where Sakura balances a child with messy dark hair on her hip, smiling away as little hands wave in the air. She carries the kid with an ease that implies it comes naturally, as if she lugs children around all of the time. Her lips quirk upwards as she speaks, clearly amused and oblivious to Sasuke's distraction as she often is. She continues to engage with Mirai, though he barely hears what she's telling her about all of the different books she might find. It's effortless, the way Sakura clearly connects with this little girl.

No, this particular image is going to linger in his mind for a while, much like the longing unfolding in his chest, though he supposes that emotion isn't particularly new.

The kid suddenly perks up and the spell is broken as she turns, her little face decidedly not looking very similar to either Sakura or himself. His own hair is a bit darker than that anyways, he thinks, like ink; the illusion is shattered. Her complexion is paler, too. He thinks he can see Sarutobi Asuma in the shape of her nose, though, and maybe the cut of her chin, though it's hard to tell; she's young enough that she still has plenty of baby fat rounding out her features.

"I give Sakwa-sa shot." She nods to herself. "Bwave!" Then she wiggles, which Sakura seems to take to mean she wants down, though his girlfriend's expression seems perplexed by the sudden change.

Kurenai starts laughing as her daughter marches over to the bag at her hip and starts pawing at it. Sakura wears an expression that says she's entertained and confused at the same time.

"We do a pretend shot before we come in to her appointments. If we're brave during the pretend shot, we get a treat, don't we, Mirai?" She kneels so the kid can begin rifling through her bag.

"I bwave," Mirai repeats, little palms digging until she's pulling out a bakery package of tsujiura senbei of all things.

They appear to be fairly fresh from the market, possibly made today, judging by the familiar scent of freshly baked goods that slams into Sasuke's nostrils; he's instantly, painfully transported back to his aunt and uncle's bakery, treats with Itachi on late afternoons or otherwise as they watched the store's regular customers filter in and out. The packaging they're in is a nicer one, which means they haven't been sitting sealed on a shelf until the expiration date. It's been a long time since he's seen ones like that; the pre-made packaged ones at most grocery markets tend to be easier for him to ignore than ones clearly made in one of Konoha's bakeries.

Itachi used to tease him, when they were younger, always refusing to tell him what his fortune said. It won't come true that way. Why can he still remember the exact cadence of his voice, the way his brother would fight down his smile as Sasuke attempted to negotiate in the way that small children do. I'll do all your chores for a week, nii-san! Or, you can eat half my senbei, and-

"Sakwa-sa bwave, get cookie." The speech she uses is somewhat garbled, but Sasuke manages to understand it through the ache that slams into him at the scent; his aunt and uncle specialized in senbei, and served both kinds: savory as well as sweet, like these ones. She digs out one of the cookies then marches back over to Sakura and begins nudging at her arm.

"Come down!" She demands - "Be nice, Mirai," Kurenai warns, - so Sakura does, clearly trying not to laugh at the sudden theatrics.

Red eyes are very serious when she curls her other palm into the vague pose one would have when holding a needle. She aims it at Sakura's arm carefully.

"You fee a pwinch," Mirai says seriously. "Be bwave." She plunges the nonexistent needle into Sakura's arm and Sakura makes a show of fake wincing but doesn't cry out. The kid then presses an imaginary bandage to his girlfriend's arm with no show of removing the imaginary needle.

"Gweat job. You have cookie!" Mirai hands the fresh senbei cracker over to Sakura. "Dat wasn't s'bad, wuz?" And if anything can pull him out of wherever that scent consigned him to, it's decidedly that. He can nearly hear the precise tone of voice and inflection Sakura must use with her younger patients. That wasn't so bad, was it?

"Oh, thank you." Sakura smiles, accepting her reward. "I'll have to save this for later and read my fortune."

Mirai nods seriously. "I wuv fortoons. Mama weads." She pauses, hand curling around her mouth as if in thought, then adds somewhat solemnly, finger traveling to her chin, "I wead soon."

"I'm sure you will," Sakura encourages politely with confidence as Kurenai chuckles.

"Someone is going to be a bit of a bookworm, I think." Kurenai's eyes meet Sakura's. "Kid's obsessed with getting all of the fortunes from each one; we read them together."

Sakura laughs and says something back; Sasuke's not sure what, because the little girl makes eye contact with him, having to crane her neck to follow his form upwards, almost as if she's trying to memorize his features. She pauses at the books still balance on the crook of his arm; perhaps she managed to discern that Sakura handed them to him earlier. He doesn't quite know how to describe the way she's studying him. It's not quite fear, at the very least; perhaps it's simple curiosity.

Red eyes trail down the shoulder that leads to his missing arm. They linger there, fixated on his empty sleeve swaying in the breeze, dark brows contorting in puzzlement.

Ah. Definitely curiosity. It's probably not every day that the kid sees an amputated arm.

It's Sasuke's turn to be confused as Mirai then marches back over to the bag and rummages around, retrieving another one of the treats from the bakery package. Her determined mutterings are barely audible until she proclaims, "Man bwave, too."

She then marches back over to Sasuke with purpose as he blinks in discombobulation.

"You get ouchy," the little girl states decisively, gesturing to his arm.

"Sarutobi Mirai," Kurenai chides, tone a trio of apology, authority, and embarrassment. "That's not polite. I am so sorry-"

The kid's crimson eyes affix themselves to him, curious. "You bwave 'nuff get shot?" Tiny fingers mimic the motion of holding a needle as she stares up at him in question.

He stifles a snort, studying her a moment before he nods, kneeling carefully and setting down the stack of books he was carrying just off the pathway in the cleanest area of the gravel he can see; Sakura's bag goes on top so it doesn't get dirty. He then holds out his arm, only to become befuddled when the little girl shakes her head in response.

"Sweeve," the girl says matter-of-factly with the air of someone stating the obvious.

Ah. Sakura's wearing one of her sleeveless shirts today, paired with a violet skirt; she didn't need to roll up her sleeve.

"Mirai-" Kurenai admonishes, tone mortified because she's clearly put together that he doesn't have the other arm to pull said sleeve upwards. Sasuke briefly makes eye contact with her, hoping his unbothered expression will reassure her that it's fine. Other people, let alone children acknowledging his handicap or pointing it out rarely bothers him; within the scope of his line of work, it rarely actually is a handicap for him.

No, the only time it bothers him is…

Shoving that line of thought aside for the next time he's glaring accusingly at his bedroom ceiling with only himself in his idiocy to thank, Sasuke moves to bend his arm, bringing his wrist towards his face so he can employ the use of his teeth to grip the fabric and pull it up. It will be undignified, but it's for the kid; it's not a big deal.

At the same time, Sakura kneels beside him.

It's a swift and instinctive movement, and it seems like she acted reflexively because her face turns beet red when their eyes meet. Her expression shifts to the one she wears when she's embarrassed, and she bites her lip, a telltale sign that she's about to apologize for something.

Despite her acting like nothing happened a week ago, he's felt a sort of shift happen between them. Not quite tension, but more… carefulness. As a whole she's been pretty hesitant with most kinds of physical contact other than the most simple kissing in her entryway since he mumbled that apology against her neck. Their interactions since, albeit genuine, seem somewhat strategically choreographed on her part: calculated paces away for neatly sequestered meal preparation in her kitchen, seating on her couch leaving a not indifferent but a not as close amount of inches between them again, and so on. She's seemed timid to initiate anything physical between them at all, really - she hasn't suggested sitting out on her balcony, either, even though they had cooler weather one of the nights he was over - and Sasuke can't blame her; it's his own stupid fault. Perhaps he hurt her feelings more than she let on; coupled with her ludicrous adamancy that she should also be sorry, it could be that there was some sort of perceived rejection of her somewhere in there, too.

He hasn't figured out a way to try to put her hesitation to rest other than bringing it up again, which he doesn't want to do for obvious reasons; he doesn't desire to make her cry again if he can help it, and furthermore, he doesn't know how to even begin to explain his reasoning. Despite his inner conflict regarding the nature of relationships and intimacy, he finds himself missing stealing kisses in her living room and the feeling of her hand at the nape of his neck.

It's strange to think that there was previously a time - a long time - in which he didn't get to see her daily, that she really didn't seem to know how he felt, even though he feels he wasn't subtle, each letter its own confession of sorts. He can almost feel the familiar ache start to form in the pit of his stomach at the mere thought of those years away, the anxiety that rolled in each time he watched his hawk fly away with handfuls of the thoughts he'd never share with anyone else. He'd made no declarations to her that were comprehensible to most, prior to leaving; she wasn't at liberty to have to respond. In fact, he'd have been far more deserving of no response at all.

He was exceedingly more lonely than he knew at the time, he recognizes now, longing for her company and her warmth despite knowing he didn't deserve it. And he's still terrible when it comes to communicating clearly, as illustrated by whatever this is, extra inches he's constructed between them unintentionally.

It's stranger still to think how quickly he's become so used to the taste of her lips, her body heat hovering closer and closer to his with each passing day. It's not that she's withdrawn her feelings; her affections still bubble easily from the upturn of her lips, and she's endlessly, endlessly kind, and she kisses him with exactly the same intensity and feeling behind it as before. It just doesn't also include her fingers sliding up the crest of his spine and into his hair, these past few evenings, and it's caught him completely off guard to feel the absence of such things so strongly, given they've only really just begun. It's new, yet simultaneously not at all: an eventuality, a logical conclusion.

Yet his lack of experience coupled with his trepidation to engage with anything overtly sexual as of yet has him at a complete loss on what he can do to fix it. He's pretty sure if he tries to just come right out and say it - I like when you invade my space a little and your fingers feel nice and I'm sorry I'm a mess who constantly keeps you waiting - he'll choke on the words just like he knows he would on certain other ones.

Most of all, when he thinks about the true crux of the matter, what he knows he's really missing is Sakura's unguarded ease around him, her feeling comfortable enough to be close to him physically without her thinking she's bothering him or encroaching on his space or pushing him too much. This dance of close but not close reminds him of years ago and years further still, stubbornly trying to keep her at arm's length while his heart screamed silently in protest because deep down he wanted anything but.

And so, feeling the full brunt of all of his shortcomings and frustrations all at once, Sasuke unbends his arm and, rather than using his teeth, he exhales wordlessly and extends his lone arm to her.

It seems to settle her a bit, though she does search his gaze for a protracted second prior to actually seeming to decide to go through with it. Soft fingertips he knows all too well carefully grab his sleeve, adjusting it upward carefully for him to expose skin.

"Fee a pwinch," Mirai says when he provides her his now bare forearm, and he tears his gaze from Sakura to the beckoning of an imaginary needle. It's pressed to his arm with a mysteriously sticky hand. Sasuke makes no show of wincing, but he does hold acutely still so she can also gift him with the imaginary bandage.

After the pretend procedure is done, the little girl nods in satisfaction, "Dat wasn't s'bad, wuz it?" Sasuke shakes his head silently in response, letting those words sink over him like a tide as ruby red eyes fixate on him, waiting.

"...No. It wasn't."

Mirai nods, apparently content with his response as she hands him his cookie. The scent wafts further into his nostrils until Sasuke shifts to breathing subtly through his mouth instead, hunting for a place to look elsewhere.

It is not until the little girl turns around, walking somewhat clumsily back towards her mother, that Sasuke realizes Sakura is still kneeling and has apparently been watching the entire exchange with big eyes. His brows furrow, wondering what could possibly put that expression on her face; he's fairly certain it's one he hasn't seen before.

"Ahem," Kurenai clears her throat, at which point they both snap out of whatever just happened. Sakura jumps to her feet, face flushed. Sasuke's neck feels warm as he himself avoids the woman's gaze, focusing instead on carefully gathering their books before rising, maneuvering the cookie strategically into his palm for the time being.

"Well, I suppose we'll go look at the kids' books quick," Kurenai is saying as Sasuke reaches his full height and Mirai claps her hands together. She's got the kid balanced on her hip again. Crimson eyes flick between Sakura and Sasuke, a knowing smile that makes Sasuke slightly uncomfortable appearing on the Jonin's face. "Sakura, we'll see you at her next appointment?"

"Next, next," Mirai babbles, eyes trailing upwards to watch a lofty purple cloud crawl across the sky. "Oji-san said he likes purple bwest."

Sakura nods, and the motion momentarily draws Sasuke's attention to her. He finds her cheeks glowing red.

He is surprised but also not surprised at all when his gaze travels back to Kurenai and he finds her giving them both a somewhat knowing smile.

"Good. Have fun on your date." She chuckles to herself as she turns, readjusting her hold on her daughter.

"Mama, wuz a date?"

Yuhi Kurenai playfully ruffles her daughter's hair as they make their way to the farthest table, but they're not completely out of Sasuke's earshot until a few more words come to pass.

"Well, it's when two people love each other a lot, and they do things together, like go eat, go to the market..."

Clearly they are not out of Sakura's earshot, either. Her face remains just as amaranth as Sasuke is sure his neck is.

"Um," Sakura says, laughing nervously as she scratches her head. "I can go pay for those, if..? Unless, uh, you want to look more." Fine fingers approach the stack and begin transferring the stickers indicating their prices to her wrist, and jade eyes look anywhere but him.

"...I'm good," he mumbles, staring at their combined stack of books in his hand. Apparently she intends to pay for his. It does nothing for the breakneck speed at which his heart is twisting against his chest cavity, this feeling that the valves and ventricles are somehow coiling around his ribs for anchorage.

"Um, could you hold onto this for me? I think Ginko-san might have some napkins or something to wrap them in." Sakura plucks up the senbei cookie with her opposite hand, looking at him questioningly.

Sasuke inclines his head once, then proceeds to stare at the two sweets together in his hand like a fool as Sakura flits off to pay.

---

A walk and a dinner preparation later, the green market lamp glows soft above them, the sunset a remnant thin gradient along the buildings beyond Sakura's apartment window. Hiyashi chuka is devoured, Sasuke's helping topped with extra tomatoes and a dash of salt.

"I don't suppose you want the cookie," Sakura says once both of their plates are cleared, gathering both as she stands and smiling in a way that feels strangely doting despite the fact that she kept her fingers very clear of his own in the process. "But you should at least read your fortune. Want me to grab them?"

Sasuke stares at her hands, slender digits wrapped around plates and cutlery, before nodding silently. He then excuses himself momentarily to the bathroom, throat feeling thick.

A deep breath is had, in and out, as he washes his lone hand thoroughly. Dark eyes wander to his reflection in the mirror and he steels himself, trying to swallow his cowardice.

His gaze drops to two toothbrushes, crowded into the cup together at the corner of the countertop, and he's bewildered when he actually manages it. The dread dissolves down his throat, discarded to be retched up another more opportune time, when he's alone.

Sakura's waiting at the table with a plate in its center, two senbei cookies topping the porcelain. "I started the water for tea," she tells him. Her smile is something else.

"...How do we know whose is whose?" He questions quietly, hoping his teasing will make her laugh and distract him. He reclaims the seat on his side.

His side. Her answering chuckle lights up everything.

"The one she gave me had three dots in its corner," she reveals, motioning to the cookie closest to her. She rotates the plate a little and, sure enough, there they are.

Beguiling constellations of freckles, he remembers; it's burned into his retinas for the time being. Her chest against mine, impulses gathering mass. Her smile -

Sakura carefully reaches to crack her cookie into two, pulling out the fortune paper but holding it face down, plainly waiting for him.

Sasuke reaches for his, cracking it one-handed. He hasn't broken one in over a decade, not once. It feels foreign yet somehow not foreign at all. The paper slips out easily when he closes his fingers around it, one fluid motion.

He also situates his face down, mirroring hers across the table. Her smile says she's amused.

Her smile-

Sakura flips the paper, and he flips his, a rhythmic stanza of equivalencies.

Emulate what you respect in your friends.

It unsettles all of the dust in the catacombs of his mind as gracefully as, he imagines, an errantly tossed sledgehammer. Sasuke stares and stares and stares, raven black print against stark white that knocks the wind right out of him. It feels heavy in his hand, unrelenting gravity tether to brutal truth emphasized in concise kanji.

It's an obvious thing. Glaringly familiar, because is it not in so many words exactly what their sensei told them years ago when they first became a team and then modeled nearly every day after? Why does it so often feel like he needs to read something on paper for it to process? Is he deficient in that way, too?

Does he have his other senses for nothing, forever bound to sight alone?

Eventually he notices that Sakura is blushing across from him, staring at her own slip of paper with bewildered and somewhat disbelieving wide eyes.

Greedily latching on to the window for teasing as a distraction from this feeling of being profoundly and stupidly unsettled - it's the fucking cookie, he knows it is, sweet on the inhale - Sasuke raises an eyebrow pointedly.

Sakura hurriedly stashes the paper in her palm, moving it one-handed to her lap before grabbing a chunk of cookie with her free hand, and Sasuke thinks of that exact procedure of actions in a bakery over ten years ago. She even uses the same hand; Itachi was right dominant, too.

"...Not willing to share?" Sasuke questions, trying and failing to fight down the eerie feeling that he's been here before. Somehow his voice succeeds in sounding playful rather than devastated by memory; he thinks mayhaps it has something to do with the manner in which his hand has turned on auto pilot, creasing the fortune back in on itself and stowing it in his pocket next to another rather important belonging: two clinking keys.

His girlfriend shakes her head, freckle shining in the sun and skin rosy as she chews.

"Nope," she says resolutely once she finally swallows the bite. "Otherwise it might not come true."

Sasuke watches her to the point where she turns redder at his extended interest.

"...Not even for half my senbei?" He bribes quietly, insides aching; that phrase hurts to repeat again after so long, but he knows it will make her laugh. He's rewarded in short order.

"We both know I'm eating yours, Sasuke-kun," Sakura chimes.

He's silent for a spell, thinking. Sakura brings another chunk of cookie to her mouth and begins to chew, sheepish under his gaze but also not breaking eye contact. The warmth has begun to fade from her cheeks; he wonders what her fortune said. It's an easier thing to fall preoccupied with than others.

"...It's for the best," Sasuke murmurs, voice deceptively calm and face expertly blank; he is a Shinobi, after all. "My girlfriend should replenish her chakra supply."

And her cheeks run red all over again. Pink lips purse to the side again as she looks out the window, trying to hide a smile. Clearly she likes when he calls her that; he'll have to do it more often.

"Thank you for the tea today," she murmurs once she's swallowed, cheeks glowing. "I like the yuzu matcha; I didn't realize they had it on the menu just yet."

Sasuke merely blinks prior to dipping his chin once, pleased. He'd figured she would, though the rough amount of sugar had been a bit of an estimate on his clone's part; he's never tried such a blend himself. She's made him bento boxes for lunch daily since the last; it's only fair to repay her. He's been soaking the empty containers at night when he stops by his apartment and washes them early in the morning to return to her, typically only to find another one she's made for him the following day.

As if on cue, Sakura smiles shyly at him, claims his cookie from the plate, and adds, "There's a bento for you in the fridge."

He nods in acknowledgement, neck feeling warm and ribs feeling tight.

"Ino said she got word from Sai," Sakura murmurs once she's demolished dessert, still grinning. She rises, clearly intent on heading to the kitchen once more to set tea to stew.

Sasuke rises in unison. "...They've left?"

Sakura nods over her shoulder as they round the corner into the kitchen; the change of venue somehow gives his mind a mental reset, allows him to abandon the part of him that's still caught in the minefield memory of being a little boy in a bakery after school, aunt and uncle sneaking he and his brother treats that will spoil their supper.

"He thought they'd get back tomorrow," she says. "Later in the day; you'll be off duty."

Hm. Sasuke thinks as he stalls, standing just beyond threshold. Back July second, meaning they'll likely leave again for the finals at the beginning of August.

Shame they couldn't have gotten back earlier. Had it been better timed, Sasuke may have been able to avoid Naruto on his birthday, though he's fairly confident that Sakura is capable of convincing the dobe to undo whatever those plans were. Sasuke frowns, then, because he subsequently realizes he'll likely be looking at quite a bit of time off after eighteen days straight of monitoring Konoha's perimeter. It's also unlikely that Kakashi will assign him anything that runs concurrent with his birthday even if he asks, save an emergency of some kind. Additionally, he doesn't know what he'll do with said time off; Sakura's still fairly occupied with her research as far as he can tell, though she's been bringing home less. She certainly didn't correct him about her chakra supply just a moment ago.

"Sencha?" Sakura's question cuts through his thoughts, and he nods the affirmative appreciatively, studying her hands as they retrieve the decaffeinated jar from the cupboard and siphon desaturated dark green tea leaves.

He's thinking about it again, he realizes, led by the ideas of birthdays: what sort of ceramic teapot she might gift him with. A traditional kyusu, perhaps. For as much time as he sat in that teahouse contemplating the nature of things, he never paid much attention at all to the kettles the old lady poured the cups from. When he returns there eventually, he'll have to have a look.

Sakura leans back against the counter once she's done fiddling with it, apparently content to close her eyes for a brief respite as it steeps.

Sasuke admires her for a long moment, steeling himself before he ultimately moves from the arching entrance to the kitchen. He takes the space just aside her and mirrors her pose, close enough that their shoulders touch, nudging her purposely once with his bad shoulder in what he hopes she'll read as affection; he's still not sure if he's managed to undo whatever damage was done by that apology.

Jade eyes flip open once in curiosity, lashes catching a sliver of the scant sunlight left across the horizon.

Sakura then smiles and, with only a brief moment of hesitation preceding, carefully leans her head against his shoulder.

Whatever worms were kneading around in his gut at remembering or apologizing or emulating settle.

---

Packed to the brim with food, a secondhand bento box takes its place on the apex shelf of his refrigerator.

Secondhand books line the end table along the couch, save one that he places next to his bedside, astride their team photo.

A secondhand fortune on a strip of paper finds its home atop a pile of letters, stowed for safekeeping in the box in his closet.

---

Bag laden with groceries, Sasuke ambles home from the grocery store alone the following day - Sakura is occupied this evening, though she didn't say with what; he assumes something with Ino - when he clocks a familiar figure a long ways down the street.

He notices Sai coming quicker than Sai must notice him. Either he's the more perceptive of the two of them or his replacement has let his guard down upon returning to the village; somehow Sasuke feels it's primarily the latter. The artist is walking with a gait that heavily implies he's exhausted, holding something he appears to be eating; Sasuke wonders if he perhaps pushed the limits of his chakra stores, creating ink birds for quicker transport back from Sand.

Dark eyes notice him once they're a few yards closer, and Sasuke can see his assumptions were on the money; Sai's eating what appears to be a sizable helping of mitarashi dango.

"Traitor," Sai greets once he's within earshot and they're near crossing paths, pausing in the street and smiling in that strange way he has. "Hello. How are you?"

Sasuke shrugs noncommittally as he stops, then hesitates. His replacement is clearly making efforts to be kind to him.

"...Fine. You?" Sasuke adjusts the positioning of the bags of produce and rice, curling his fingers around stretching plastic handles.

Sai's expression doesn't change a bit, though he does chew his way through another hefty piece of dango.

"I am quite tired," the artist reveals after swallowing politely beforehand. "Transport took a significant amount of my chakra."

Sasuke nods, thinking. Sai takes another bite, though he makes no motion to move. Clearly he doesn't yet consider the conversation over.

"...How were the Exams?" Sasuke asks stiffly.

Sai shrugs, the motion stiff and unnatural as if he's rarely had cause to do it before.

"Rather hot. There were capable ninja, though. The finals will be enjoyable to watch." A pause, and then a smile that seems to come much more naturally makes itself known across his replacement's face. "I will enjoy being home with Beautiful in the meantime."

Sasuke dips his chin once more. He would enjoy watching the finals, were his presence not likely to make every international spectator flee on sight; he's always liked watching such demonstrations, an opportunity to scout new capabilities and possible techniques. He had many such chances to watch similar exchanges whilst training under Orochimaru, as unenjoyable and lonely as that time period was otherwise.

"How is Ugly?" Sai asks, to which Sasuke somewhat bristles. He doesn't think he'll ever grow used to such an unfitting nickname; it bothers him each time he hears it.

Emulate what you respect in your friends.

"Busy with her research, I assume?" Sai is continuing, completely unaware that Sasuke is currently contemplating words on a miniscule strip of paper and the fact that both of their other teammates are far more direct than him and always have been. Naruto objects to his nickname nearly every time it's spoken. Clearly Sakura doesn't really care, but she's direct enough in other things. "Beautiful said she was making significant progress-"

"You shouldn't call her that," Sasuke says quietly instead of just thinking it.

Rarely has he witnessed the artist's face show any sort of emotion that he doesn't seem to have to try specifically to showcase. Yet now, his mouth falls a little slack, eyebrows rising and head tipping away from Sasuke as if he truly is surprised.

Sasuke shifts uncomfortably in the aftermath, fingers tensing around his grip on his groceries, though he doesn't regret saying it, nor does he break eye contact.

The blank expression that Sai usually wears stitches itself back together; his head and jaw return to a neutral position.

"You take offense to it," Sai observes. "It is not meant to be an insult. Just a nickname; I read it in a book."

An unfitting one. Sasuke says nothing, yet continues to stare expectantly, unwilling to take it back. Sometimes this works, especially when he doesn't know the person terribly well, though he supposes he and Sai are somewhere between friends, allies, and acquaintances. It used to work all the time in Sound; it was the main avenue he used to get people to leave him alone. It kept him from having to explain himself and effectively communicated simultaneously that he will not be moved.

The artist closes his eyes for a long moment, chews the last bite of his dango off the skewer he's currently working on, and swallows. Then, he smiles.

"Okay," Sai says, pitching his head to the side stiffly in a manner Sasuke knows he intends to come off as friendly. "How is… Sakura?" Her name sounds strange, as if the artist has rarely ever spoken the word. "Busy with her research, I assume?"

Sasuke's shoulders relax, and he nods.

"Ino's been helping her," Sasuke murmurs, leaning his weight more relaxed to his opposite foot. Sai nods as if he knows this information already, which Sasuke supposes he does.

"Beautiful values… Sakura's friendship and support." Sai smiles again, though this one seems to come more naturally. "Their bond is quite unbreakable."

The manner in which he speaks the words implies he means them. Sasuke dips his chin once more in agreement. There is a pause that is just long enough to feel sufficiently awkward before Sai speaks again.

"I told Beautiful I would only be gone for a few minutes," he informs him, gesturing with the hand that still holds a few remaining sticks of dango. "Nice to see you… Traitor."

Dark eyes hold Sasuke's briefly. Sasuke somehow gets the distinct impression that Sai is testing the waters, wanting to see if he'll object to his own nickname.

He doesn't.

"...Yeah," Sasuke murmurs as they go their separate ways in the street.

He places the groceries on the counter once he returns to his apartment, intent on sorting them neatly into their respective placements prior to leaving to water the memorial stone and heading to the training grounds to work on his forms. He has zero doubts that Naruto will seek him out tomorrow following guard duty. He's not sure if it will be the last day of said assignment or if Kakashi will want one additional in order to properly give the returning ninja a rest. He supposes it's dependent on the rigorousness of the schedule he had their Shinobi on while they were in Sand. Supervising children and the few adults who take the Chunin Exams would be rather draining, he thinks, reflecting on what he himself was like as a Genin as he fills Sakura's bento container with water to soak overnight.

Hopefully no messes like that, Sasuke considers once he's switched off the tap. He then opens the fridge and stops short, bewildered.

A bento box, another one from Sakura's apartment despite her being occupied tonight, sits perched at the left front of the lower shelf. Crowning it is a neatly folded note.

He reaches for it, unfolding the paper on the counter with a lone calloused thumb as his heart does something similar to melting.

Sasuke-kun,

I thought maybe since I couldn't see you today, I'd leave this here for tomorrow to pay you back for all of the surprise iced teas.

See you soon.

-Sakura

It feels strange to see her sign her name with its swooped A after see you soon instead of following I miss you. Something floats, swelling buoyant with warmth, in his chest. It's the first time she's used the key outside of his presence that he knows of, aside from when he was ill. His thumb traces her neat handwriting as he swallows, throat feeling thick.

If said note also is placed in a box that's neatly sequestered out of sight for safekeeping, it's not like she'll know.

---

It should come as no surprise to Sasuke when the idiot, ever the unpredictable whirlwind, shows up to ambush him the following evening. Konoha's tranquil village streets in the glow of the descending sun somehow cast his shirt even more obnoxiously bright in color than it usually is.

"Yooooohooooo! Teme! And Choji!" The dobe's cacophony of a greeting, accompanied by overly energetic waving and his trademark antithesis of stealth clothing - Sasuke still isn't sure what place is even selling fucking orange Shinobi gear - reverberates down village streets as he comes upon both Sasuke and his guard duty partner. They're a handful of blocks from the gate at just after six, just relieved by the typical Inuzuka Hana and the other ninja that's been joining her for night duty; Choji called him Yuto.

In the dobe's flailing hands are what Sasuke assumes are their mission relief papers, fluttering in the low breeze and crinkled from less than careful fingers. With an ease clearly born of familiarity - Leave it to Kakashi to make Naruto deliver paperwork in order to get him out of his hair - Naruto passes Choji's to him without fuss, to which Choji sighs with relief; clearly he's pleased to be escaping this oppressive heat. But when Sasuke reaches for his own copy, the idiot blonde juvenilely pulls his hand back out of reach like they're children.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Naruto grins, tone mischievous and shaking a lone finger at Sasuke. "Not before you hear our super fun plans for the evening!"

Sasuke's brow twitches in annoyance, frowning deeply. Choji throws him a silent look that clearly conveys he's trying not to laugh as he breezes right past Naruto, disappearing around a corner into the heavier foot traffic of civilians returning home from work, errands, or the like. Left effectively alone with Naruto, Sasuke braces himself for a walk replete with pestering for what he's sure will be the entire way to his apartment.

"I have plans already," Sasuke grunts, scowling now. He gives up on trying to reach the papers, shoving his hand into his pocket; he doesn't have time to waste on such a meaningless and stupid game with the dobe, especially when he can reasonably assume he's being dismissed officially. He has a shower to take before meeting Sakura; he's pretty certain he stinks like sweat.

Naruto's signature grin grows bigger, perfectly in time with Sasuke's irritation. "'Ya don't, actually!" The idiot then gleefully launches an arm around Sasuke's shoulder with a speed that nearly catches him off guard; he instantly shrugs it off, maneuvering himself cleanly several paces away.

"Hey-"

Sasuke scuffles with his teammate again, shirking out of his reach. He kicks his heel into the idiot's ankle this time, sweeping Naruto onto his ass on the ground and satisfiedly thinking that payback is a bitch.

Naruto shoots him a quintessentially withering look once the dust has settled, which Sasuke returns with that much more menace, waiting for whatever dumbass explanation he's about to receive, because clearly he's meddled in some way.

It is then that Naruto's trademark grin returns and everything in Sasuke sighs.

"I mighta sorta have talked to Sakura-chan - and she agreed with me anyways, so don't even try to get out of it! - that we needed some guy time tonight!"

A lone dark eyebrow twitches, a clear and wordless indication that he's not convinced that's the full story; he's certain that guy time isn't a phrase she would use. Naruto's face, to his credit, transforms to that of a sheepish expression.

"Well, okay, what actually happened was I delivered some stuff to her late last night from Baa-chan that she needed to finish her project, and I may have sorta bought her a drink to convince her that you should go out drinking with me tonight instead of her so she could work on that-"

"Not interested." Sasuke will admit to himself that it's a little petulant even as he flash steps several yards down the street, furrowed brow conveying his annoyance. He knows that whatever Sakura is working on is important, and he's not against her putting her time into it. He is against their teammate meddling in their business, though.

He also is against anything that prevents him from keeping an eye on her to certify that she isn't overworking herself. If her daily consumption of massive amounts of sugar is anything to go by, she's been using up massive amounts of chakra stores.

"H… Hey!"

Thus ensues the chase, though Sasuke's not sure he would entertain the notion of labeling it as such. Naruto's faster than he used to be, but Sasuke still has him beat.

He leaps from roof to roof, cutting through an alley and then two in an attempt to shake off the blond nuisance tailing him. It's a very roundabout way back to his apartment, arching many blocks out of his way to get his teammate to leave him alone. He even swings within a few hundred yards of Ichiraku's, hoping the familiar scent of ramen will tempt the idiot enough to distract him.

It is to no avail; Naruto proves himself to be relentless, as he always has been. Sasuke barely ducks under the covering of the stairs leading up to his apartment before Naruto hops down from a roof a hundred yards away, just behind him.

"Why do you gotta be such a downer, huh?!" An irritatingly orange blur trails him up the steps and then down the walkway, taking no care for the gargantuan racket of noise his heavy steps cause; old metal creaks and clammers as Sasuke inwardly cringes. The apartment next to his at the end is still sitting vacant, but still; he's sure he has other neighbors likely to be disturbed by Naruto's antics.

"Keep it down, idiot-"

"I won, fair and square." The dobe gestures towards his own chest with his thumb before crossing his arms, gaze locked resolutely and expectantly on Sasuke before he speaks again in his whiniest voice. "Don't you owe me?"

And Sasuke's hand stills in his pocket, stance caught on the threshold afore his own front door and fingers white with tension, for several reasons.

One is that the keyring in his pocket now boasts two keys, and he's not certain he would like Naruto, nor by extension Kakashi, to know just yet that he and Sakura have keys to each others' apartments. It's none of their business in any capacity, and they don't need further ammunition for teasing.

The other is that he does owe Naruto, for a lot more than being bested once at a training ground. For as much as jade eyes alight with fear are seared into his neurons, so are angry blue on Naruto's part as he ripped Sakura out of his grasp to safety.

Principally, Naruto is the main reason Sasuke avoided what would have been the biggest mistake of his life. If not for his best friend swooping in at the last most critical second, Sasuke doubts he would be living in Konoha now. In fact, Sasuke doesn't believe he would even want to be alive at all. No matter how far gone he was in that darkest hour, the weight of guilt and the consequences of such an action wouldn't have been something he could live with.

Emulate what you respect in your friends.

He inhales deeply, glaring at his front door with a deep frown as Naruto whines. "C'mon, it won't be so bad, will it? Just one drink. One, and then I promise I'll shut up about it until I win again! Please? Pretty please?"

Eventually, Sasuke heaves a sigh of frustration.

"Not Utsura Utsura," he states resolutely. He has zero interest in going to such a noisy locale on a Friday night, especially when the bulk of Konoha's Shinobi will have just returned to the village one day prior. "Or anywhere crowded."

Naruto whoops with enough glee to warrant at least twenty counts of disturbing the peace. "WHOO! Yeah, 'course not! I'm thinkin' calm. SUPER quiet; I know the best place!"

Sasuke takes advantage of his idiot best friend's subsequent swirling around in an overenthusiastic daze at his agreement to discreetly angle his body as a shield with which to hide his keys; he has the door unlocked and is shouldering it open, key ring returned stealthily to his pocket, before the idiot is even done screeching.

"Let me leave my sword and shower first," Sasuke sighs, focus caught on the stickiness of his clothes. If he's going to be forced to drink, he doesn't wish to do so smelling like he currently does, and less so with a weapon strapped to his back.

Naruto, idiot that he is, seems to take that as a personal invitation to follow him in. "Sure, sure!" He exclaims as Sasuke jabs him away.

"I didn't invite you in, usuratonkachi," Sasuke mutters with venom, scowling as the dobe sidesteps his grip, rather expertly exploiting his lack of one arm.

"Aw, c'mon. I won't even snoop; I swear!" Naruto grins, importunately putting one hand up in mock salute. "Best behavior!"

Sasuke shoots him a droll expression before rolling his eyes.

"...Whatever."

Naruto looses another whoop of triumph and makes a dive for the sofa, leaping over its back to land on its cushions. Sasuke watches him suspiciously, half-ignoring what he's going on about now and having half a mind to give him a similar version of whatever lecture Sakura has given him on the notion of crumbs. The idiot probably already ate, but he wouldn't put it past Naruto to raid the refrigerator.

It is then that Sasuke recalls that the cleaned bento box from yesterday is currently sitting atop his counter, dried. He'd intended to return it to Sakura when he saw her tonight, along with the one still on his person from today, obscured from sight.

Glad that the idiot is overly engrossed in talking while lounging stationary on the couch - he's babbling something now about some ninjutsu he's seen at the exams, the type of talking Naruto does in which he doesn't necessarily expect a response - Sasuke makes quick work of rinsing the dirty container from today before filling it with water to soak. He then retreats to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him without another word as Naruto drones on. He barely catches the end of it once he's within reach of the bathroom door.

"Genin shouldn't even know jutsu like that! It's just so crazy when ya think about it, how…"

---

Forty minutes later finds Sasuke in some obscure bar at the edge of the village called Akaoni. It's a small establishment, more of a large food stand turned enclosed than a true bar. The layout reminds him a lot of the tea shop he and Sakura visit, though this locale has counter seats in addition to booths and only a few of them are taken; it's definitely a quieter place. The dobe even chose a booth in the corner away from the other patrons. Sasuke suspects that's a trend within his team, established while he was away and they all reached the legal drinking age; it's the one they chose at Utsura Utsura, too.

The drink Naruto orders for them both is disgusting - "If you're gonna have just one, I should get to pick which one!" - so he's sipped it only a few times, and followed each sip with a bite or two of his apparent supper for the evening: greasy butabara katsu from the bar's kitchen, which he gathered from the menu offerings consists primarily of fryers and not much else.

The drink is leagues stronger than anything he's essayed as of yet, bitter with a hint of spice. Genshu, he'd called it; some sort of undistilled sake that, judging by the taste, he's certain has the highest alcohol content of anything on the menu. But Naruto's buying, and Sasuke's been relieved of guard duty for tomorrow and the foreseeable future, so he supposes it's not that bad. If he does somehow manage to drink enough to earn a hangover tomorrow, he supposes he can deal with it. Sakura won't be done working until at least the afternoon, anyways, and probably later if she plans to put more hours in as she's been doing. It's possible he'll be granted the rare gift of a restful night's sleep and take advantage of it by sleeping in. He feels like he heard once that alcohol can help in that regard.

He's responded little to the conversation thus far, merely asking a question here or there, such as how many combatants were present from each nation at the exams. Mostly he just nods or eats as Naruto talks and talks and talks.

"Hinata-chan and I went to this really weird restaurant. They served lizard, and I mean BIG lizards. She has a sorta weak stomach, so she didn't eat much of it, but the tail meat was honestly pretty good! I bet it'd taste good in ramen. They put so much spices on shit there…"

Sasuke dips his chin once in agreement, gaze wandering to the window of the dimly lit bar. He likes the spices in Sand, but the harsh heat makes for the use of strange meats that are… creative at best. He prefers the vegetable dishes they make instead, varieties of peppers and piquant miso butter mushrooms.

The street outside is placid. There's an occasional passerby casting a long shadow down the street, but overall he'll admit the place does have a bit more draw to him than any establishment he's been to previously. There's barely anyone here, aside from a couple of older men playing cards at the countertop. It makes for quiet conversation simply by nature of the environment, a rare thing when Naruto's involved.

Sasuke takes another sip of the bitter genshu, its warmth trickling down his throat before he chases it with a bite of his food. He wonders if Sakura's been here. It seems like the sort of place she might like, though he doubts they concoct anything outstandingly sugary here like the ones she'd ordered at Utsura Utsura.

"Well, anyways, I s'pose that'll be the last Chunin Exams for a while," Naruto starts, changing the subject from prattling on about how good his greasy food is. "Won't have much reason to get to Sand for a bit. Jonin Exams aren't due there for a while yet."

Sasuke frowns, focus drawing back to Naruto curiously from the window; it's the first thing he's said that's genuinely caught his interest all evening.

What's that supposed to mean?

"...They're always half a year apart," Sasuke comments, brow furrowing. "Barring international crisis." Naruto just grins, taking a lackadaisical sip of his drink and seemingly unfazed by its potency.

"Usually, yeah," the dobe agrees nonchalantly. "There's gonna be a hiatus, though."

Sasuke's consternation grows.

"…For what?" A wave of unease begins unfurling in his stomach, but Naruto shrugs nonchalantly as if whatever he's referring to is nothing dire, and the feeling dissipates; it can't be bad if he's that unbothered about it.

"Just some restructuring stuff we know is probably coming." The dobe waves his hand noncommittally, smiling for some reason. "Still in the works so I can't say too much. Kakashi-sensei's taking the lead on it for now. Gaara, too. Twisting arms. Nothin' bad, though."

Sasuke studies Naruto intently, trying to place whatever is ciphered in his voice. After a moment of contemplation, he identifies the undertone: hope.

Odd.

"By the way," the dobe carries on casually, punctuating his sentence with a slow pull from his drink, "Granny Tsunade asked a lotta questions about you and Sakura-chan."

Sasuke frowns, then, processing the words and subsequently bewildered by the abrupt change in subject. Naruto sets down his drink and just looks at him expectantly, as if he's supposed to say something to that.

Apparently gathering that Sasuke isn't going to respond - Sasuke doesn't even really know what there is for him to say - Naruto begins pouting.

"Aw, c'mon! You don't have anything to say?" The idiot's voice is filled with mock indignation. "Aren't you even a little curious, teme!?"

Sasuke stares at Naruto's glass, then his own. A beat passes.

"...Did she persuade you to poison me?" He questions quietly, nodding towards the beverage and inwardly noting that it seems to take a bit more effort than usual.

Naruto bursts out laughing in response.

"Nah, nah," Naruto dismisses with a wave of his hand, first grinning then frowning. "It's just got that kick to it, you know? And anyways, Baa-chan only ever drinks stuff this strong after she gets bad news." His face darkens for a moment as if some ghost of a memory has briefly pained him. With another shake of his head, he seems to banish it. "She was just wondering about some stuff, is all. And she was mostly in a good mood, for once! I mean, she didn't even take a swing at me this time around!"

Saying absolutely nothing, Sasuke finds himself feeling particularly grateful for the dim environment of the bar concealing the flush creeping up his neck. Albeit slowly as if trudging through molasses, a memory is resurfacing, one involving waking up in a hospital room. It happens to be a memory which he's viewing just a bit differently at this particular moment, as he's just recollected that Senju Tsunade was very much present for it.

The way you looked at her was… Well, I just knew.

If it was obvious to Naruto…

Sasuke chooses to ignore the statement in exchange for another overly ambitious sip of his drink, eager to wash away the peripheral vision portion of that particular memory as it leaves him feeling rather exposed. He nearly coughs once it hits his esophagus, though he manages to wrangle it into submission through willpower. Another sip goes down easier once he's chewed through the final bit of the pork belly katsu to temper it with.

Naruto's scowl grows progressively deeper the entire time. There's an exceedingly juvenile part of Sasuke that finds a measure of satisfaction in this.

"C'mon, teme, don'tcha wanna know what we talked about?"

Judging by the teasingly suggestive lilt coating Naruto's words, he absolutely does not.

"No."

"C'mooooon. You don't want just a little bit of a hint?"

"No," Sasuke reiterates firmly, rolling his eyes and somewhat astonished when he discovers that that, too, seems to require some effort to follow through.

Sighing, Naruto then apparently chooses to switch tactics. "Well, do you wanna at least talk about how things are goin' with Sakura-chan?"

Another long drag of his drink. He's starting to taste it less, flavor dulling on his tongue. Or, perhaps, it's charred away part of his taste buds.

"No." For the same reasoning, though it takes him a second longer to compute.

The playful glint in Naruto's eyes fades gradually into more of an accusatory stare, clearly growing unenthused by his lack of response.

"Seriously? You spend the last few weeks pretty much all alone with Sakura-chan and have nothing to report?" Blonde eyebrows wiggle suggestively above twinkling eyes. "Not even just like… a little description of how things are going in general?"

Sasuke's eyes narrow, the movement as slow and deliberate as the drawing of his chokuto, unappreciative of both the dobe's tone and insinuations. He then recalls miniscule words printed on a slip of paper.

"...Fine," he admits begrudgingly, disliking the warmth crowning the back of his neck.

With a chuckle, Naruto shifts his glass. "See, was that so hard?" He grins before downing multiple gulps of the genshu in a manner that defies explanation; he doesn't cough or anything, launching into whatever idiocy he planned on saying next. "But just fine?"

Sasuke, not hearing right away, performs what is definitely the most subtle and refined kai release in his repertoire, but nothing happens. He's left contemplating if the Kyuubi's healing effects over Naruto extend to rectifying burned esophagus upon impact.

Naruto's next words finally register in Sasuke's mind, then - "No sleepovers or anything I should know about? Or anything else that happened while I was gone?" - and it dawns on him that he is actually inebriated. There's no other plausible explanation for this marked delay in reaction time. He shoots a disgruntled look at the glass before him in offense, now barely a fifth full.

How much fucking alcohol is in that? He wasn't particularly against getting drunk if he doesn't have to work in the morning, but he was under the impression that he would have to order more than one drink to do so. He looks to the array of bottles lining the shelves behind the barkeep, who's quietly visiting with a patron. The bottle was green. If he can place it, he'll be able to read the label from here and find out, provided he activates his Sharingan.

"Hey! Are you in there, teme?" Naruto waves his hand in front of said offending beverage to regain Sasuke's focus, and Sasuke directs his glare at his imbecilic best friend now, who doesn't react at all. In fact, the unfazed idiot starts laughing as if it's the damned spectacle of the century.

"Even drunk, you still look like you've got a stick up your ass," Naruto cackles, shaking his head and drumming his fingers on the table. Or, at least, it sounds like a cackle to Sasuke, though it can't have been too loud as the other handful of bar patrons don't seem to react. Maybe the idiot just seems louder if alcohol's making his head pound.

"I can't believe it. Kakashi-sensei's gonna love this. We should all go out together 'n stuff! Guy time. Didja know-"

"Fuck you." Sasuke means it to be both sarcastic and intimidating, but judging by the way Naruto starts shaking his head with an expression that says he's reining in a laugh, it apparently has a delayed enough reaction that it removes any bite from it.

"Anyways." The dobe grins more, downs two more hearty swigs of his own drink - Is it even alcoholic? Sasuke wonders - before he tilts his head to the side. "I'm really happy for you guys and all that, that it's fine-" Naruto briefly signs a slightly sloppy version of air quotes to accompany the word that proves perhaps he is affected by whatever poison they're drinking after all - "But I asked a question. Any sleepovers at Sakura-chan's apartment? Or anything interesting happen?"

Sasuke loathes the way his neck feels as if it's gone aflame, thinking of Sakura's lips ghosting over the sensitive skin beneath his ear and the fact that he sort of spent the night once at her apartment already, though he didn't sleep.

"Enough," he settles on after way too long of a pause, hating how the silence seems to be punctuated by Naruto's smug grin. Shortly thereafter he inwardly vows to never drink whatever this is again; its effects are too disorienting, dulling his normally sharp reflexes, and he very much dislikes the delayed reaction time and the way it's failing to serve him into a navigation out of this conversation.

"Awww, cmon! There's gotta be something you've got questions about. Y'know, Baa-chan brought this up 'n I couldn't believe I never thought about it before, but you never wanna watch movies with me."

"Because you talk all the way through them." That quip comes easy, instinctive and calculated like a well-aimed arrow launched from the bow of his memory. He recalls trying to watch a movie at the idiot's old disgusting apartment, attempting to focus on the flickering screen fueled by old twisted wiring dubious enough to constitute a fire trap and the constant stream of words from his friend.

Being drunk is weird. His tongue feels heavy and slow, like it's struggling to keep pace.

"I do not talk all the way through 'em!" Naruto's voice is indignant as it always is when Sasuke chides him. "You know what I think? I think you don't even like movies that much. Or reading books."And there's that knowing smile that Sasuke does not appreciate, the one that tells him he's being teased.

"You just want an excuse to get all cozy with Sakura-chan-"

"Do you always drink so much?" Sasuke interrupts mid-sentence, casting another disdainful look at his glass and then at his idiot teammate. He's simultaneously proud of his reaction time being normal just then but disgruntled that the words seem to be, to his own inebriated ears, slightly slurred around the edges.

The semblance of dignity Sasuke has been holding onto dissipates as Naruto erupts into laughter as if he's just said the funniest thing.

"It's one drink, teme! Lotta percentage alcohol, sure, but it's not that bad. And anyways, quit changing the subject-"

"It's poison," Sasuke manages to respond in a more menacing voice.

"Yeah, well, somehow you drank most of it, and you're still breathing-"

Sasuke scowls in full now. "I had no choice in order to escape this conversation."

His scowl deepens as the dobe isn't cowed. Instead, his idiot best friend just shakes his head and chuckles.

Naruto's shit-eating grin only widens as he watches Sasuke react to his questioning. "Y'know, I kinda think maybe there has been a sleepover," he taunts, "just by the way you keep dodging the question."

Sasuke maintains his scowl and caustic tone as he fires back, "Did anyone nosy ever interrogate you about your relationship?"

Wrong choice, Sasuke thinks; his best friend looks like he's trying not to smile.

"Well, if y'wanna know about my relationship so badly-"

"Not that," Sasuke sighs, picking up the stupid glass and draining the rest of it in one go with only a minimal cough at the end.

If one gets inebriated enough, one doesn't remember. It's all he can hope for.

For some reason, Naruto frowns, now, lower lip jutting out.

"Well, I'll answer honestly, I guess," his friend says uncharacteristically quietly, reaching for his glass and jostling its contents. "I guess… sort of? But Hinata-chan didn't have her own apartment when we started dating. And once we got engaged, she was pretty eager to get outta the house."

The cogs grind but require more effort and elbow grease than usual. Getting out of said Hyuga household would have meant moving into Naruto's shitty apartment, Sasuke knows, the house they have now being a recent thing. He thinks about the dobe's very… bachelor-type dwelling, cluttered and furnished with only the most basic necessities, its refrigerator housing noodles teetering on the brink of biohazard.

It's difficult to imagine the Hyuga heiress, former or not, willingly embarking into such chaos prior to marriage for any reason other than to evade Hyuga Hiashi. Not that Sasuke doubts Hinata's affection for her now husband - he doesn't - but most couples, particularly those from overly orthodox clans, traditionally wait until marriage to live together, choosing a place to then live together rather than bucking tradition to live in an apartment. Having seen how clean the dobe's house is kept now, he's certain Hinata likely transformed Naruto's old apartment into something livable, but still; most of the Hyuga compound is in all likelihood as pristine as the Uchiha District was in its prime, albeit far less isolated.

He feels bad for bringing it up now; whatever Naruto's remembering, it clearly isn't positive. Even drunk, if Sasuke had to describe his face right now in one word, he would pick the word troubled.

"And… well, anyways, Hinata-chan and I never really…" Suddenly the plagued look vanishes, and Naruto's face starts turning red. "I mean, we did some stuff like kissing and things like that before, but we never-"

"Stop talking," Sasuke deadpans. Perhaps a frame of reference for normal relationship timelines could be useful to have, but not at the expense of knowing… any of that. Too personal.

"Well, I just… y'know, wanted to be a gentleman and all that! You know me!"

Sasuke twitches, thinking of turned over leaves and a twelve year-old brat who used to unleash scantily clad clone women everywhere. He supposes a lot changed in his absence.

"She didn't like living at home," Sasuke surmises, both wanting to confirm his slow-forming assumptions and also hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction. That must have factored in at least partially to their somewhat expeditious wedding. He supposes tradition-bound Hiashi Hyuga would rather commit seppuku than have any daughter of his shacking up with someone for an extended period of time prior to marriage, even if it is the hero of the village and future Hokage who never breaks his promises. As much as Sasuke seems to dislike this man the more he learns about him, there's a thought lingering at the corners of his own consciousness that, were his own parents still alive, they would be of the same stance regarding either himself or Itachi despite the changed times. There are nearly always some sorts of expectations for heirs in main branch families to live up to, secondary son or primary daughter. He doesn't envy Hinata's former position in that regard.

Naruto exhales heavily as if thinking, though to his credit, he doesn't change the subject immediately, either. In that initial silence alone, there's an admission of accuracy in Sasuke's assessment; his best friend is not often at a loss for words.

Which perhaps makes him braver than Sasuke, confirming when things are less than perfect rather than brushing off the topic entirely.

Are friends supposed to talk about things like this? Sasuke is fundamentally not a good friend, emotionally stunted and addled with a tendency for jealousy in the past that he tries very hard to forget about; he knows that. Despite how many questions truly are floating around in his head, what's between him and Sakura feels too personal and also too delicately evolving to disclose much about it to anyone else. He knows Naruto likely has good intentions with whatever this conversation is supposed to do; he's just far too private of a person to even attempt to discuss things like that. And it doesn't help that he has his own catches, either - a backlog of mostly as of yet unspoken apologies, trust issues, an ingrained habit of avoiding shit that he shouldn't avoid, and the list goes on. He thinks of the Uchiha District, still sequestered at the village's edge when it seems like every other boundary is expanding far beyond what he remembered, not sitting vacant and empty like a goddamn mausoleum because he's too gutless to-

"Well, no, she didn't," Naruto finally says, drawing Sasuke from his cacophony of thoughts. "Fund and mental differences, she calls them. She did miss her sister a lot at first, though."

Although Sasuke barely suppresses a retort concerning the distinction between "fundamental" and "fund and mental", he understands Naruto's point. He's all too familiar with the weight of expectation and the void left by a missing sibling, even if only temporarily. A slow exhale is had as he gathers his thoughts, contemplating.

"Well, anyways!" The cheeriness is back, and the spell of whatever Naruto was thinking about seems forgotten for now. "I'm a married man; it's not hard to guess what all I get up to with my wife. And as a married man, I have all sorts of advice I can and probably should give you. Like for starters, you gotta wash your hands-" A pause as blue eyes flash to Sasuke's lone hand around his glass, where he's been tipping the small amount of ice around for the better part of the past minute - "Er, hand - a lot-"

The words catch up to Sasuke then, and his moroseness is abandoned for the time being, giving way to more pressing things, like trying to block out whatever the idiot is saying now.

"Stop talking-"

"And use soap! And also, dig beneath your fingernails with it, too; girls get infections easier. And make sure your fingernails are always clipped kinda short. Don't want them sharp-"

"Shut up-"

"-For obvious reasons, dattebayo! And also, don't be afraid to use all of your tongue, not just the tip. And guys should always always always make sure their partner gets there at least once first-"

"Enough."

At that, Naruto finally stops talking and has the audacity to shoot him a look dripping with mirth, suggesting that he's endeavoring not to laugh, and Sasuke inwardly vows that he will commit seppuku before ever asking Naruto anything related to… that specifically.

"I don't need advice." Sasuke growls the lie out of habit more than true conviction, hoping it's got enough lethal edge that the dobe will drop this incessant questioning. He should have known it wouldn't be; he scowls as Naruto continues, completely unbothered.

"Uh-huh." The dobe wiggles his eyebrows. "So how are things other than that, then? Everything's great, huh? Nothing you need to know?"

His tone is light and teasing, yet beneath it lies the familiar thread of genuine concern - a testament to their complex friendship, he supposes.

Silence stretches as Sasuke inwardly hesitates, ensnared in his own unique brand of completely ruining a moment with his girlfriend that he himself technically initiated with a clumsy attempt at intimacy and an apology mumbled against soft skin and what does one do in such uncharted emotional territory when they're a person as accustomed to solitude as him, should he be presented with the opportunity again as soon as tomorrow? What's the frame for normalcy as far as progressing to… that? What does Sakura think on the matter?

Was the apology for her, or for himself? Because she seemed so easily insistent that it was unnecessary, jade eyes soft and understanding and crying on his behalf, again.

And was it really an act of contrition at all, or was it to barricade her at arm's length once more, an attempt to maintain the shielded distance he has always kept, shale and limestone followed by granite six feet deep? He's had the nagging feeling that it's both, himself holding both ends of a fraying rope out of fear what such closeness might unravel.

And perhaps liquor does, in fact, go in accordance with the saying in that it loosens lips. So do near photographic recollections of a blackening letter to someone who no longer breathes, ashes now swiftly disposed of, accomplishing nothing. So does a memory of Sakura, quietly asking if he wrote letters to Naruto while he was away. And now that he's thinking about it, if he were a good friend, he would have. Sasuke missed his best friend's wedding.

Emulate what you respect in your friends. Sasuke knows he is lucky to have them as he watches the last vestiges of condensation make their slow descent along the outside of his glass, exhaling.

"...Sakura is always…" It comes out a mumble and his voice trails before the waiting on me makes it out. He pauses instead, considering his words carefully; it's a challenge when his head is this muddled, refusing to fully cooperate on the first try.

Naruto, to his credit, is completely silent and even somehow manages to look thoughtful when Sasuke glances at him; he's leaning back in the booth, now, expression unusually contemplative as he gives Sasuke the space he apparently needs to figure out what he wants to say.

A sigh is had.

"...I don't understand the…" Sasuke shakes his head once, exhaling again as the sentence crumbles midway, because that's not what he wants to say, either.

He pinpoints it eventually, after some time spent in silence that doesn't feel lonely like it does when he's on his own.

Naruto's grown up. And Sasuke likes to think he has a bit, too, and yet…

"...I'm not good with feelings." It feels strange, and not particularly good, to just admit it outright and aloud, but it also feels undeniably true and on par with what's ruminating in his skull cavity right now.

The dobe nods and appears completely unsurprised by the statement in any capacity, as if that's exactly what he expected him to say.

"I mean, yeah," Naruto starts, "There's tough stuff you gotta talk about with each other. It's not always… easy, depending on whatever the stuff is." There's a meaningful pause that Sasuke reads into as having to deal with Hinata's father. "But it also makes you stronger, once it all comes back around. You take it on together. That's the trusting part, don'tcha think?"

In lieu of answering, Sasuke seizes the moment to drink the water that's materialized at the bottom of his glass and to stare for a long moment at the table. Somehow the melted ice is… sobering.

Though it hasn't yet come to pass, there's a part of him that feels as though the more he lets her in, the further away from him she will resultingly want to be. Friendships are not the same as romantic entanglements; he will inadvertently destroy things somehow like he always does, and then there will be nothing to salvage afterwards, teammate or otherwise. And the enormity of that scares him, because he's barely been back three months. How would it feel to lose her six months from now? A year? And what if she doesn't want the same things as him in the first place? He doesn't know where she stands on many things, through his own fault of being too much of a coward to outright ask, marriage and other long-term plans that he thinks are rather significant. Worse, he doesn't know quite where he stands on many of the very things he wants to ask her about - he thinks he wants children yet knows he would make a poor excuse for a father, and his only answer about where he would like to live the remainder of his life is contingent on her answer to that question, and he thinks were he to tell her that as his answer it would make him seem excessively overbearing. The concern snowballs, picks up pace. And he's too craven to just ask, but he cannot for the life of him get that picture out of his head where Sakura's balancing a dark-haired child on her hip, and it's far too soon to even be thinking about any of these things in the first place, and he doesn't know what he's doing at all-

"Sasuke."

Exhaling sharply through his nostrils, Sasuke meets the idiot's stare, only to find him grinning.

"You can talk about pretty much anything with Sakura-chan; I don't think you have anything to worry about. She's a good listener; probably more than you know. And anyways," Naruto says, voice uncharacteristically serious, "She loves you. A lot. But that, you do know."

Though Sasuke hasn't heard her vocalize it to him since they were seventeen - his fault, yet again - Sasuke does know. It's present in everything she does for him, in food she prepares and fixed physical ailments in exam rooms and in the way her fingers linger against the exposed skin of his nape in her entryway. Hearing it stated so simply as if it's an obvious fact that was perhaps restated outside of his presence recently, however, makes his face feel warm.

Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, but he longs to hear her repeat it.

"The rest'll come," Naruto continues positively, either completely oblivious to Sasuke's warming cheekbones or just kindly not commenting on it. His voice has regained its normal rhythm and positivity. "Just remember it's Sakura-chan; her right hook may knock most people unconscious, but she doesn't bite."

A pause as Sasuke processes through his words further, and suddenly the dobe is looking at him suspiciously.

"Well, actually, wait. I dunno if-" He frowns, blond brows knitting together as he suddenly scrutinizes Sasuke. "Wait, wait."

Sasuke, sensing both a shift in mood and its accompanying implication, returns to scowling, albeit with pink cheeks.

"Stop talking."

"Well, now I'm suspicious!" The dobe says, clearly trying not to smirk. "You still haven't answered me about the sleepovers, either, now that I'm thinkin' about it."

Sasuke sighs, shoving his internal nonsensical mess of crossed threads behind a metaphorical door for later dissection.

"...None."

"Mm-hmm." Naruto makes a big show of over-enunciating the phrase, to the extent that Sasuke may have chosen to abruptly rise and leave, were he not fairly certain his head will start spinning if he stands up that fast.

"None, you say. Got it. Noooooo sleepovers." Then his eyes glint.

"Mind explaining why there's a second toothbrush on her bathroom counter, then?"

Sasuke's neck warms once again - Dumbass must have stopped by her place since getting back and snooped - but he schools his face carefully blank.

"Some of us don't like having ramen breath." It's the only cutting insult that comes to his mind with the haze of the alcohol still inhibiting his train of thought.

The dobe's mouth twitches like he's trying not to smile. It takes a solid ten seconds of silence for Sasuke to realize his mistake.

"And just what sorts of stuff at Sakura-chan's apartment do you need good breath for?" He wiggles his eyebrows and Sasuke rolls his eyes.

"Fuck off."

"Aw, c'mooooon! Not even one measly little detail?"

"Fuck. Off."

More laughter.

"Teme, has anyone ever told you that you're no fun?"

---

His apartment feels emptier somehow, drunk.

The walls seem to twist and sway with the low hum of the air conditioner, lit only by the lamp he switches on atop the dining table once he's sure Naruto's had enough time to leave and won't invite himself in instead. Furniture, transformed by the scant amount of light, appears to morph into unfamiliar shapes, shadows reaching across empty walls.

Sasuke thinks of walls that aren't empty, varying portraits lining a hallway as if to keep this very thing from happening, though he doesn't quite think of himself as the type of person who takes pictures, and the one he does have he's never been able to bear displaying. He thinks of a small kitchen with a well-used porcelain teapot steeping tea, white floral patterning cutting fern and curling around the edges of corresponding matching cups, an austere contrast to a lone box of jasmine tea shoved where the light of day can't find it.

He thinks of a cascade of pink hair resting against his shoulder, rose gold lashes sweeping gently closed, an easy smile upon lips that taste vaguely like sugar.

Then he recollects that he still has a bento box to wash, so he flips on the overhead and turns to the sink. It's short enough work, though he does completely misgauge the amount of soap to add to the water through the delayed response time that is apparently being drunk.

He feels like he heard something once on the importance of drinking enough water when indulging in something like this, so once that's finished, he pours himself a glass before switching the overheads back off, sinking into the couch with it in hand. The fabric is rough and unwelcoming against his neck once he leans back; his head feels heavy.

This is not a home. The slow additions of his own belongings help, he supposes, thinking as he sips, but it's missing the cardinal principle that matters most, a dimple caught in lamplight here with him.

He's greedy, monopolizing the bulk of Sakura's free time yet still desiring more of it, getting irritated with Naruto canceling their plans. The dobe's been gone for weeks; it was nice of him to seek him out. And it wasn't that bad, truly. He might not even remember the idiot's stupid advice in the morning, gods willing.

Yet he's drunk daydreaming of going home to her instead of a bare bones apartment easily, her soft warmth amidst lavender sheets and moonglow.

He wants more in other ways, too, yet shies away from the exact things he desires when presented with them.

Sasuke finishes his water in silence and swiftly finds himself thinking that it's probably time to go to bed. He's not particularly looking forward to tomorrow; he'll likely wake up with a headache.

When he moves to stand, he frowns, foot hitting against something that shouldn't be there. The offending object is a blur of dull orange in the lamplight, and at first, before his vision adjusts, Sasuke thinks the idiot's left his jacket here,but then he remembers he was still wearing it at the bar.

What the-

One of Kakashi's stupid books reveals itself when he nudges said object out from beneath the sofa with his foot, a note sticking out of the cover. Sasuke pulls it out, eye twitching.

Some good ideas, since you like to read so much! You can thank me later!

From, Naruto!

Though he wouldn't be caught dead deigning such pornography with so much as a skim through, its mere surprise presence beneath his sofa isn't the worst way to get rid of his pessimism. He is going to punch Naruto back to Suna with this very book the next time he sees him, though. For now, he toes it back under the couch with a roll of his eyes and wanders to collapse into his own bed, thinking of green eyes.

---

He hasn't been truly on edge necessarily, but Sasuke inwardly breathes a thorough sigh of relief when an immensely tentative Sakura softly asks if he'd like to sit on the balcony, because it means he hasn't completely ruined things.

"Yes," he affirms softly, immediately with barely a breath for the offer to leave her lips, so she'll stop wearing that expression, the one that he recognizes as the same she used to wear when they were younger and she was anticipating he'd rebuke an offer to walk or eat or help him with something. She glows once the single word leaves his lips, revealing she's made some of the unsweetened lemonade she first mentioned months ago. It's tart and tastes good, once he takes a sip, trailing behind her to step out above Konoha's dark streets.

A new planter has appeared on Sakura's balcony since his last invitation. Verbena, he thinks, small purple clusters in stark contrast to the flushed azalea she's placed them next to. He supposes he can sort of see Sai's personality in the container if he looks at it long enough; following further study of her planters these past few days, there's a certain smooth and rounded look, always with a thickly beveled base, that's a common denominator in most of them. The similarities are there, if one is willing to discern with a critical eye.

She apparently notices him staring at it.

"What do you think?"

Sasuke blinks once, looking at her and setting the lemonade to his side simultaneously.

"…It's Sai's?"

Sakura blinks, then nods, but her eyebrows adjust as if he's said something mildly amusing.

"Well, yes, it's Sai's planter - he dropped it by the hospital today - but I meant the flowers." Her green gaze drops to the plant as if critically assessing it, lashes cast scant shadows across arching cheekbones.

Sasuke analyzes the plant for a stretch of seconds, trying to ascertain what she might mean.

"…Verbena?" He asks more than says, voice uncertain and meeting her eyes again in question.

Sakura's head tilts to the side and she pushes away her own glass of lemonade, leaning to her right side. Sasuke notes with some dissatisfaction that it means she is leaning away from him.

"You're right," she murmurs. "It's an offshoot from the lab's garden. Above-ground portions of the plant are a decent anti-inflammatory for young kids without being overpowering. I thought…"

Sasuke's brows furrow together as Sakura carefully reaches out to the petals, adjusting them before reaching for one of the azalea blooms above it. It's a nicer specimen, one of the largest within the plant. There's an indecipherable expression, enigmatic, on her face that he finds he can't quite place.

A deep exhale is had on her part as he studies her. She locks eyes with him, letting the azalea drop.

"Well, I thought it might look sort of nice with the azalea? Girly combination, I know, but what do you think?" Green irises flash to the daisies to his left on the balcony surrounding them. "Or maybe they'd look nicer by the daisies? They're more neutral, of course… maybe not as striking?"

His brows feel like they're knitting themselves further together, perplexed that he's being asked about something like this. She's seen his apartment many times at this point; she must know that decorating isn't his strong suit.

"…What would Sai think?"

That makes her laugh, and make some sound that borders on a snort beforehand. Her shoulder, seemingly somewhat hesitantly, bumps against his good one; the warmth radiates outward from the point of contact, and it promptly feel as though a handful of butterflies have taken to wing in his stomach.

"I didn't ask Sai; I asked you," she says, smiling somehow both sheepishly and cheekily when he purposely bumps her shoulder back. There's a subtle adjustment, just following, where he thinks she's seated herself a diminutive bit closer to him. He finds himself thinking, out of all things, about how her nose is cute again.

"…I don't think I'm the best person to ask," Sasuke admits, flanked by a small twitch of his mouth, a sign of uncertainty. "I don't know much about plants."

…Unless there are directions to read.

A challenging glint enters Sakura's expression, and her smile pulls wider.

"I'm just asking visually: which do you prefer?"

Sasuke's gaze flicks from the azalea to the daisies once more intently. The azaleas are soft blush, delicate petals curled slightly at the edges from the lingering heat of the day. The daisies, contrastingly, are simple pristine white, tidy rows of petals fanning out from the center like rays of sunlight.

He thinks of his own apartment, decidedly free of any plants, another way it is not a home. Those he does care about are kept carefully separate, the cherry blossom tree divided from him by glass and lily buds miles away.

"…I don't know much about ikebana," he murmurs with a frown, still a bit confused as he turns to look back at her.

Sakura's lips curl into a wider smile for some reason, eyes shining with amusement.

"You have the best eyesight among the five great nations, Sasuke-kun." His girlfriend shifts to lean back more against her left arm, tilting her head. "It's just a question."

One long moment of quiet lingers, in which Sasuke looks from the azaleas to the daisies once again, unsure and trying to recall if there's some meaning associated with either flower, or verbena - What is she really asking? - but he ultimately chooses to rely on his gut, which is really just poorly disguised color preference; he's become rather partial to variations of pink.

"…The azaleas," he finally says, searching her gaze and voice barely above a whisper. "I suppose."

Sakura's eyes drift down to the planter as if to evaluate his assessment, then she nods.

"That's what I thought, too." Slender fingers reach for her glass and she takes a swig of lemonade, eyes finally leaving the flowers before them and rising to the sky.

Rightly vexed, he studies her closely, as if to try to figure her out. He also studies her because he wants to press his lips to that freckle on her cheek, and the sensitive skin along the graceful arch of her neck, too. He sighs imperceptibly, cloaking his frustration and longing in tandem.

A faint blush creeps up her skin as he continues to look, he notices after a minute with some satisfaction; it's clear that she's aware that he's staring, but he can't quite find it in himself to care.

Reaching for her hand, he intertwines his digits with hers, to see if that makes her flush darker. It does, he notes with further satisfaction. She looks rather like she's trying to hide her smile, lips twitching.

"…What do you want for the future?"

His eyebrows rise as his heart seems to slam to an abrupt stop.

What's bringing this on?

"…In what way?" He asks it somewhat uneasily, though the words don't shake. If it was butterflies taking wing before, it's a panicked flock of birds all rushing to take off now, or perhaps a throe of snakes rather unceremoniously dumped into his chest cavity, twisting in revolt.

Green eyes meet his, oblivion that washes over his crescendoing heart rate. Sakura shrugs slightly, enough for him to understand that she's asking just to ask and not as the precursor to a potentially difficult conversation. Her hand remains intertwined with his, easy reassurance.

"…In any way." Her attention shifts to the flowers, then the stars above; a thumb strokes his absentmindedly, running over roughened callus as he exhales. "Just wondering. Job, house, general goals?" Jade eyes flit to his for a millisecond and she's reddened darker, averting her gaze as her voice seems to momentarily falter. "Or… other things."

His neck and ears feel warm now.

"…Otherthings?" He questions softly, a distinct tone that implies he would like a little more clarification on what she means, though he thinks he understands.

Pink lashes flutter a few times, and Sakura angles her face away from his.

"You know," she murmurs, words barely audible yet Sasuke hears each syllable with piercing clarity. "…Marriage. Or… or more."

Sasuke falls quiet for a long time, frowning, gut twisting. His mind drifts to Sakura's office and an open window, to pressing an uchiwa fan with her first name kanji carved into the handle against her fingers, empty space above it - an empty space he specifically requested be left - still sitting on display in her room only a few tender steps from where they at present sit.

"…Was I not… transparent?" He finally settles on, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he studies her.

Luminous eyes meet his shyly, cheeks dark. Her lips purse to the side, then very much have the appearance that she's trying not to smile. The smile wins out, and her gaze seems to drift to the door to her room in reference before it resettles back on the planter of verbena next to the azaleas.

Fine fingers squeeze his, tension eased; his tongue feels less like lead, and his stomach stops feeling like live snakes are coiling around in it entirely.

"Okay," she admits, lashes flickering as she blinks several times in rapid succession. "Maybe about the former, you were pretty clear. Someday." Her tongue seems to move around in her mouth a little as she tries to contend her smile into submission, or perhaps he's simply far too focused on her mouth, currently.

You're so stupid.

Sakura's eyes drop closed, cheeks still dark. Then, she looks at him directly, wearing an encouraging smile. The way her face is angled has that freckle on her cheek bullseyed near dead-center in his line of sight.

"…And after that?"

She's too pretty. It sends him off kilter, takes him a second or ten to recover and even recall the scope of what she's asked.

Hopeless. He mentally thanks whatever fates have resulted in Sakura being fairly private when it comes to certain conversation topics. If Naruto or Kakashi were ever around when she questioned him about such a thing, he'd never hear the end of it; he's not often preoccupied to the point of being tongue-tied.

He decides to answer the other things first. They're easier, more straightforward; a way to center himself.

"…I'll do what Kakashi or Naruto order me to," he says, voice leaving his throat calm despite not feeling so.

Pink eyebrows draw together; Sakura tilts her head to the side, moonglow shifting over her pale hair.

"No matter what?" She questions softly, seemingly searching his gaze for something, tone laced with concern. "The village hurt you."

He searches hers in return meaningfully, mouth set in a hard line.

And I've hurt you, he thinks bitterly, in more ways than one.

"…They've proven to have better judgment than I do." He allows the words to hang in the air for their due, shooting her a pointed look before adding, "And I serve them, not the village."

Green eyes hold his. He's not sure when he actually came to that conclusion, necessarily; it certainly wasn't a conscious thing, no pivotal circumstance that cemented it, but he knows it to be true, now that it's left his lips. His duty lies with a handful of people, not geographical borders, but if he's useful in such a regard while pursuing his own goals, then so be it. His team all have superior moral compasses to him.

"…And if given the opportunity to influence the village?" Sakura pushes, surprising him, as it was not at all what he expected her to say in response. "To shape or guide it? What then?"

Dark brows draw together in confusion. He gawks at her, perplexed and taken aback.

Where is this coming from?

"That will never happen." There's a tinge of frustration evident in his tone even as he wills there not to be, but it's the truth; he's shot too many arrows into his own metaphorical foot to influence from a clan head's power and perspective. And he's not certain that he even wants the weight of such responsibility anymore, anyway; it's too heavy, saddled with expectations from ash and touchwood and hand signs and dead kin that he refuses to truly revisit. Unpacking empty streets and neglected foundations and the fact that his parents and brother were incredibly flawed people all hold little allure for him now; all each thing would seem to offer him is pain.

…And it was never meant for him anyway, trying to live up to such a name in that sense; he's a second son. He carries pride for his family, sure - he will always love them - but he's more and more recognizing their shortcomings in retrospect, as well.

Sakura's attention suddenly sweeps away and she seems to take a steadying breath and Sasuke seems to feel as though he's somehow said the wrong thing, though he can't imagine how. Sakura is perhaps the most intelligent person he's ever met; surely she isn't unaware of his standing with ninety-nine out of every one-hundred people in this village. A trip to the supermarket with him here without a dirty look is a rare occurrence.

"…And what about where you'd like to live?" A smile has found its way back to her face, as if she's just brushed off whatever part of what he said she didn't like. "A house? An… apartment?"

Sasuke frowns, then coerces his face back into neutrality; if he lives to be as old as his father was, he would like to at least minimize the resemblance in some capacity.

"…A house, eventually," he says, or moreso implies, voice soft and trying to place her tone.

His girlfriend's smile widens into something radiant, as if this answer pleases her; he somehow has the distinct feeling that, despite the fact that Sakura lives in this small apartment and has made quite the home of it, she eventually would prefer a house, also.

And also that she's very much understood what he's just implied, however far off it may or may not be. And suddenly he's picturing Naruto and Hinata's yard, fireflies and a garden and Sakura smiling in warm indigo air.

Then it is not Naruto and Hinata's yard; it's their own, desaturated flowers at the edges of his vision and a full moon and Sakura grinning as she balances a child with messy dark hair on her hip, fireflies buzzing past her temple.

"And if you could choose anywhere?"

Sasuke simply stares at her, thrown resoundingly off kilter.

What is that supposed to mean? As far as he's aware, Sakura has never had intentions to live anywhere but Konoha. In fact, he's fairly certain that her ability to oversee the hospital's operations at such a young age indicates she's rather integral to Konoha's infrastructure.

She's never said she wanted to leave. Except…

"Did something happen?" He asks with some concern, worry rising in his being like smoke from a crackling flame. But Sakura simply smiles, shaking her head as she squeezes his hand.

"Nothing's happened," she reassures levelly, inflection genuine. "I'm just curious, is all. You've been so many places… The way you wrote about them…" Her voice trails off, then she seems to find it again. "Land of Honey, Land of Woods… I loved reading them. What you liked about them, I mean. You described them… well. Or, well, you write so…"

His neck feels increasingly hot as Sakura grows more flustered in response to him not saying anything, her words fading as she flushes. He has the distinct sense that she must have kept them, his letters, reread them as he's reread hers; that has to be what she's alluding to. The butterflies make their return, saturating his lungs, and he has to remind himself to take a breath. He wonders where she keeps them.

"…So?" Sakura questions, voice tinged somewhat self-conscious, though not to the extent that it prevents her from asking. "If you could choose anywhere?"

He kisses her and she makes a small sound. He disentangles their hands, slides his own against her neck to guide her head back a little more and also just to touch, exceedingly gentle against her soft skin. Her tongue gives way to his as soon as he wordlessly asks it to. Pink clouds his vision as his blood sings, ricochets in his veins as her freed hand slides up along the arch of his trapezius muscle into his hair. Azaleas and daisies and verbena give way to some sort of haze as she crowds closer.

The better part of a half hour later finds his lips at the sensitive skin just below the left side of her jaw. Her cheeks and her neck are ruddy red, he finds, once he tears himself away with remarkable effort, carefully angling the frame of his body to his left.

And she's smiling, widely, transparently happy. Her lips are plump from kissing him, pink hair tousled.

"…And you?" He questions somewhat breathlessly, rather pleased with himself that he hasn't fucked it up this time and simultaneously confident he's illustrated where he would like to be quite clearly; location is irrelevant to him.

She gives him a sheepish smile.

"And I?" She says more than asks, lambent lips twitching and dimple sinking into existence, clearly pleased.

Sasuke stares at her pointedly, grateful that her vision seems to be locked on his face only. It will give him more time to settle.

"…For the future?"

Biting her lip and still smiling, her eyes drop back to the verbena in its terra cotta planter, as if she's contemplating. Her fingers twitch at her side for a moment.

"…My place is in medicine, I suppose," she murmurs, fingers then finding his again against the concrete of the balcony, intertwining much more confidently than before. "Hospital, mostly, amongst other things here or there. There… will never be a lack there, of things to do, clinic or otherwise."

Sasuke's head bobs in a single nod. He expected nothing else. She's good at what she does; the best there is, as he understands it.

"…And?" He presses, eyes locked on hers, heart waiting.

A sly grin tugs at the corners of her mouth, fingers squeezing as she leans back a little more on her opposite arm. He doesn't know if the butterflies ever truly settled, but if they did, that certainly ends the respite. His lungs feel like they're twisting every which way, pulled like a magnet towards berry and antiseptic.

"…And a house, I suppose," she admits with a teasing lilt to her voice. "Eventually."

Her words are met with a matching twitch of his own lips. He grants her a moment of lull by letting his gaze wander to leaves and daisies, time to consider before he pushes.

The word bears repeating, eventually. Dark eyes make their way back home. "…And?"

Blushing cheeks and a shy tilt of her head away from him betray her true feelings.

"…And I would go with you. Anywhere," she confesses kindly, mellifluously, voice quieting as one shoulder seemingly draws back into her frame out of shyness. "But especially if… well, if we were…"

Sasuke's gaze softens, heart seemingly tilting on its axis as he nods, knowing she can see him out of the corner of her eye. He squeezes her hand. And then she's scooting closer, until they're left thigh to his right, and her head is leaning against his good arm.

Sasuke lets her. He more than lets her; he leans into her. Then she hides her face, turning into the black sleeve shielding his bicep and using it as a makeshift sort of veil.

"…And… after that?" She questions quietly, voice scarcely a whisper near lost in the song of the breeze and swaying fabric. "Children, I mean."

Ah.

Time slows. A particular recent memory replays itself, effloresces at half speed, across several scattered seconds, held close for safekeeping.

It is not one he can keep in a box forever.

"Obviously not anytime soon," Sakura is saying when his heart is finished skipping. Perhaps they are far more like-minded than he previously wondered. "But…?"

His thumb strokes hers carefully, fingers still enmeshed. It takes him a minute to settle on what he wants to say.

"…I'd like them," he answers softly, truthfully; it seems the best option. "But I don't know that I'd be good at it. I think…" He hesitates, then tucks his chin atop her head, so she can't leave the veil of his sleeve and see how red his face is at the admission of such a thing out loud after contemplating it for years.

"I think it would take time for me to… process that," he finally manages, sighing because he's not sure if he's articulated himself hugely well. Not counting Kakashi's efforts, he's had very little interaction with any sort of parenting overall. Being the youngest means he never helped look after a sibling, either. His sole experience with looking after babies is limited to his own childhood, occasionally holding a new distant cousin or two that he would inevitably find pale and still, come one fateful night. It's not an extraordinarily sturdy foundation.

Yet there was an age in which he always assumed he would someday have children and that it was his duty to his village to do so, shortly followed thereafter by a stream of years where he completely detached himself from such an idea entirely by necessity of survival.

Now he inhabits a time period where he's fairly certain his only real requirements are that he be given time to become well-prepared for such a thing and that Sakura is involved. And that isn't different from when he was a kid, really, because even then, in the back of his mind he always sort of thought that once - if - he could handle Itachi, then later, when they were older, maybe-

Is that selfish? His brows furrow, because now that he's thinking about it, there are some differences. He hadn't really considered the practical limitations when he was younger, he supposes; no time or fully developed brain to think that far ahead in any capacity other than the generalized: ancestral home non-negotiable, because he had never lived anywhere else, and two or three children, because that is the number a typical Uchiha family had. He always knew Sakura was capable, but becoming such an esteemed medical ninja - and field ninja, he amends mentally; though the hospital seems to occupy most of her working time, she's also a Sannin in her own right and could be called to the field just as easily - was not exactly accounted for in his narrow envisioning. Obviously having never been in a relationship, he didn't quite have the wherewithal to contemplate other important matters, either: the reality that pregnancies can sometimes be hard on the body, that it may take her out of her field at times… He realizes now in retrospect that his thought processes, culminating principally in the end result, failed to consider his partner's comfort. Three children would mean over two years of one's life spent in some manner of discomfort.

Just one would be more than he would have thought to hope for, he thinks. If it's what she wants. And if it's not, then that would be fine, too. He clearly needs to think this through with a fine tooth comb, as he said.

Perhaps he hasn't invested more time into thinking about it simply by nature of the fact that he wasn't certain he'd get this far.

"But you do want them?" Her voice brings him surfacing out of his contemplations to shore, because he realizes she's referring to them, as in pleural.

He exhales slowly, trying to shake off his ruminations before he utters a quiet, "Yes." There will be time to consider all options and any entangled implications as they go, and make a call together; there's no need to think about it more than that for the time being.

Lips curve against his sleeve and a dainty nose nudges his upper arm. "I think you'll do fine," Sakura offers, clearly smiling against his bicep.

His chest tightens. That doesn't escape him, either, how she's phrased it: you will, not you would.

"…And why's that?" He manages to keep his voice level somehow, exhales once more against her crown.

Sakura's head tilts to the side a tiny bit, leaning more into him. He wonders if she notices that when she exhales, he can feel the warm rush of her breath against the exposed skin of his throat.

"You're kind. Gentle. And I think…" He feels her lips twitch against his sleeve as he sighs heavily; he disagrees with both of those assessments. It's apparent by her reaction that she knew he would disagree yet spoke it in spite of that.

"You care more deeply than you perhaps let on. To…" A pause. "…To most people, anyways."

One breath. Two. It feels like they're breathing in unison, just now. Sasuke decides not to press his dissent with her previous two descriptors - he's wary of making her cry again - and ultimately, she was right about the last appraisal, for better or for worse. He cares to the point of obsession, often to everyone's detriment.

"…You want them," he states quietly against her hair. His lips make casual contact with the top of her head as she nods almost imperceptibly.

"Someday," she agrees. "When the time is right. There are things I need to do first, I think, but…" Her voice trails off as a randomly overpowered breeze carries away the but.

Sasuke tilts his chin once, just enough movement that he knows she'll feel it without any sharp corners of his mandible digging into the crown of her head. She should take as much time as she needs to accomplish her own goals first. They're not very old, in the grand scheme of things.

"Your research," he observes, a hint of curiosity saturating his voice. It's a good diversion from mulling over the areas in which he is lacking.

There is a lengthy pause, as if Sakura is carefully selecting her words from a wide arsenal.

"…Yes. My research." Another lull. "And what comes after."

Dark eyebrows gather, disoriented.

What comes after…?

"…And an apartment, when you're ready." Her ears are red, he sees when he peeks. "…And a house."

She's a skilled medic, he reasons. It's doubtless she can feel the way his pulse rushes at those particular words, both with excitement as well as with relief that she is so kind as to give him the space to become ready. She knows him well, in most aspects.

His thumb swipes across hers as if of its own accord.

For now.

---

Despite his insistence to Naruto that he's never going drinking with him again - Sasuke admits it was somewhat satisfying to see the faint outline of a book imprinted into the idiot's left cheek for the entirety of their latest spar - his teammate seems bound and determined to best him, these past few days.

Yesterday, Sasuke spent most of the day with his girlfriend, who finally had her first full day off since he was relieved of his village perimeter duties for the time being. She hadn't even brought work home; he's hoping that means she's really nearly done with the bulk of her endeavors. He's like Kakashi and Naruto in that he doesn't particularly enjoy how much chakra she's been expending in order to meet whatever goal she's rising to. Sakura knows her limits, though; he trusts that she's not going overboard in relative capability to her chakra stores.

The sound of repeated loud knocking that he unfortunately recognized had echoed through Sakura's otherwise quiet apartment around two. And perhaps Sasuke is a little biased, but to him, it had seemed the idiot was jolting her awake from what he would describe as a rather fitful nap against his shoulder as part of the essential recovery from such expenditures.

Once she was yanked rather unceremoniously from sleep to wakefulness and seemed unlikely to lose her balance without him, Sasuke had gone to the door to glower at Naruto, who had, in turn, incessantly whined like a peevish child that Sasuke had to come spar with him.

"C'mon, teme; 'side from Sakura-chan, no one is as much of a challenge as you!" And Sasuke was very aware that he was being goaded, complimented to lull him into convincing for an ulterior motive that arrived the very next spoken sentence: "We can make a bet out of it again; best two out of three?!"

With a curt eye roll, Sasuke had simply said, completely devoid of any emotion, "Tomorrow. Today I'm busy." He had then proceeded to close the door with an air of finality only to be met with more griping from beyond the green.

"Why not today?! Scared I'll beat you again? I've got plenty more advice, you know!" Laughter shortly followed the whining, though Sasuke found it was less grating once he pointedly made his way back to the living room where Sakura still sat, looking a combination of amused and sleepy.

"Humored him, did you?" Sakura chuckled, briefly rubbing at one eye.

Rather than saying a word, Sasuke had merely sighed deeply, making her laugh more. He unfortunately remembers more of that stupid bar conversation than he cares to admit, and he is quite alright with Sakura knowing as little about it as possible.

"Sorry I fell asleep on you," she'd said finally, grinning and leaning over the back of the sofa. "I'm just-"

"I didn't mind." He'd caught the telltale red cheeks he'd caused right before turning to head to the kitchen. His intention was to make her some tea now that she'd been rudely awakened by their idiot friend's antics. Instead of focusing on the heat rising to his own face, he'd busied himself with pulling the teapot down, prepping the beginnings of a decaffeinated blend and setting the water to warm. He'd then taken the time to further study the floral patterning around the rim of the ceramic.

…Until he'd heard Sakura's light, quick footsteps leading to the kitchen and felt her lips pressed to his cheek. She'd been off her tiptoes and scuttling to the refrigerator in pursuit of some sort of snack - from somewhere in her fridge she'd pulled what looked like a strawberry cupcake - before he could fully process what happened.

He'd rather be lazing about at her apartment again now, truth be told, relishing modern climate control. As it stands, he's executing a series of kicks that makes it near impossible for the dobe to get anywhere near his stupid ankles instead. Sakura's busy training with Ino today, anyways. It's not a terrible way to pass the time, honing skills and the like. It's at least proven his practicing in the dobe's absence to have had the desired results.

They break for water after about an hour of neither party winning, endless and relentless kicks and blocks. Sweat smears down his back and neck in the heat as they sit at the edge of the clearing, downing water.

As they rest, Sasuke gradually realizes he can faintly make out an unexpected addition to the usual quietude of the training grounds, save for the creek trickling through the center of this one: the distant echo of music. It's faint, almost ghostly, seeping into his ears directionally from the southwest, carried by whatever scant amount of breeze is rustling the leaves overhead. He wonders with a flicker of confusion if there's some sort of event going on that he was unaware of today. All that's over there, as far as his memory serves him, are additional training grounds: expanses of grass and trees deemed unsuitable for construction. Typically they're more reserved for solitude when training than celebrations.

Naruto must hear it, too. "I dunno why they always have to have it so loud," he grumbles, punctuating his complaint with a hearty gulp of water. "It's not like she can hear it anyway."

Sasuke casts him a glance, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. "Who?"

The blond looks at him as if flummoxed, then seems to realize Sasuke is genuinely in the dark. "Sakura-chan and Ino," he explains. "Ino has this playlist she cranks on full blast on and off when they spar, on the off chance that Sakura-chan can hear it. She changes it all the time, though. Always some stuff from Kumo or Iwa…"

As if to prove his point, the soundscape changes - a new song must have started - and a changed beat seems to echo through the hot July air. And it does sort of sound like it could be something from Iwa, dominated by percussion and quick on the uptake.

Sasuke vaguely recalls Sai mentioning a playlist of some sort to Sakura at some point. He must look perplexed because the dobe stares at him after another second.

"Wait; you've never seen them spar?"

Sasuke shakes his head. "...I know she trains with Ino every week."

Abruptly Naruto is grinning, and he jumps to his feet with renewed energy that Sasuke is a little jealous of. Though he would never admit it, their spars take quite a bit out of him; the Kyuubi's remarkably apt at seemingly regenerating the dobe's energy at top speed.

"C'mon, you gotta see it! It's loud, and they're, uh… well, Sakura-chan is kinda crazy. Entertaining as fuck, though!"

Sasuke frowns, not wanting to intrude. Whatever music is blaring seems likely to burst one's eardrums if they get too close, also. He can't imagine Sakura liking such volume, but it must vary by song, or perhaps it hasn't been playing for very long, as he hadn't heard it earlier. To his understanding, Sakura and Ino typically start earlier in the morning, especially in the summer; it's more difficult to get sunburned at high noon than eight in the morning.

"Ah, c'mon, teme!" The dobe suddenly invades his space, trying to clap his hand to his shoulder and pull him upward. Sasuke quickly rotates out of it. "Don'tcha wanna see Sakura-chan kick some ass?"

While he would be the first to acknowledge that Sakura clearly is a formidable ninja and he's more than interested in what sorts of jutsu she has in her repertoire nowadays, he now hesitates for a different reason. It's a hot day, sun blazing. The number of times he's thought about that figure-hugging outfit is rather unseemly; he doesn't know if he necessarily wants the sort of… inspiration… that expressly watching her fight in it from every conceivable angle would provide. Thus far when in her presence previously, he's had the opportunity for ample distraction: food, mission, conversation.

Desire has proven annoying and frustrating for him, as of late.

His conflict must be present on his face - and his reaction time must be concurrently slowed because of it - because Naruto manages to smack his hand to his right shoulder.

"C'mon! It'll be fun! Hinata-chan said we should drink lots today, anyways; we could use a water break!"

You just want an excuse to delay going back to work, Sasuke inwardly judges with narrowed eyes. The dobe was complaining about having to do updates to The Binder Kakashi has him work with, earlier in the morning.

His curiosity regarding her ninjutsu wins out over the pains of being a man, it seems. Grunting, rolling his eyes, and giving in, Sasuke forcibly shoves the dobe's hand away and reaches for his water.

"…Fine."

They meander towards the outermost training ground at an unhurried pace. The distant strains of music gradually amplify into an insistent clamor as they get closer, until it is a blare of chaos seeping into the air, an assault to the ears. There's other sounds as they get nearer, too: the sharp crack of branches surrendering to unseen weight, and sporadic tremors that imply the ground somewhat giving way.

Finally the heart of the training ground comes into view, air charged with energy. Some song with a heavy guitar riff - definitely modern - is vibrating through the immediate atmosphere.

Sasuke's gaze falls upon Ino, standing relatively opposite to a nearby clearing, where the landscape is marred by haphazardly strewn boulders, clearly recently uprooted if the damp outline of where dirt was previously is anything to go by. They stand incongruously amidst the verdant, yet she seems oblivious to their presence, as if they're just an obstacle. Her attention is wholly consumed in tracking some unseen entity through the dense foliage before her, lining the edge of the clearing.

Ino doesn't seem to notice them at first, too busy eyeing the horizon line. Trailing a few steps behind Naruto, Sasuke continues his approach until he reaches an elevated overlook formed from rugged rocks; it grants them both a sort of panoramic view of the unfolding spar below.

A flash of pink and red faster than he can ever recall Sakura being then zips by Ino, who makes a disgusted sound as she narrowly dodges what could have been a crushing blow. Or at least, Sasuke thinks that's the sort of sound she makes; it's hard to hear anything against the assaulting stringed clamor buzzing through the humid air. The aggressive music drowns out most other sounds; no wonder they could hear it from as distanced as they were.

"Forehead, I know you can't hear me, but read-" A wave of ambient noise momentarily swallows whatever Ino is shouting. "-aren't as sly as you think, and I'm stealing that stupid book of yours!" With a leap, the blonde kunoichi catapults herself further away from the tree strip, to what Sasuke assumes must be the safest range with which to guard oneself from Sakura.

Interesting.

"And Temari's gonna be getting an earful from me. As if I don't already fight with enough fucking handicaps!"

As if on cue, Sakura's figure appears directly opposite Ino's in the clearing, slow, grinning, lithe, and wearing exactly the outfit he expected her to be.

Sasuke takes the lull to become rather preoccupied with hydration, for approximately four or five long drags from his canteen. It doesn't really help; his mouth still feels rather dry.

"What's she mean, a book?" Naruto's voice filters through the loud music and his focus, providing a welcome distraction from his train of thought. Sakura's mouth starts moving as she says something to Ino, but the words are lost amidst the pulsing music and her body's rotation, too faint to decipher from their current vantage point.

Drink, you idiot.

Sasuke swallows another gulp of water. "…Not sure." His mind flickers back to the Sand kunoichi hand-delivering a book to his girlfriend during dinner weeks ago; from Kankuro, he thinks, but he also sort of eavesdropped on that exchange and doesn't wish to broadcast it.

Ino's saying something now as far as he can tell, her gestures animated as she talks back to Sakura. But like before, her words are drowned by the cacophony around them, blaring from the nearby speaker. Sasuke squints slightly, trying to read her lips even as she partially turns.

"…What does she mean by another handicap?" It seems to him that Sakura's simply pulling her punches and using some technique, as yet unnamed, from the book.

Naruto's laugh ripples through the still air. He's shaking his head and grinning when Sasuke briefly turns to him.

"Sakura-chan doesn't like some of Ino's music," Naruto says, snickering and tilting his head sideways to crack his neck. "She's usually fighting with earplugs. She said she can still kinda hear some of them, but mostly it drowns it out."

A frown creases Sasuke's brow, a strange mixture of pride on her behalf that she can apparently handle Ino minus one of her core senses as well as befuddlement as to why she'd rather deprive herself of one sense than simply enduring echoing eardrums. He supposes it's one thing that Ino could use to gain an edge that takes little effort; it definitely evens the playing field, akin to trying to fight a master swordsman who's blindfolded.

When he looks back to the pair of kunoichi, he catches Sakura's hand sweeping through the air, directing Ino's attention their way.

"Seems we've got some spectators," Ino announces, loudly enough to be heard as whatever song is playing fades to mere dying strains, signaling the end of the track. Naruto waves enthusiastically in response while Sasuke simply studies, silent and observant. The blonde kunoichi then leans in closer to Sakura, says something under her breath that is swallowed by the distance between them. Sakura, in turn, rolls her eyes, head shaking briefly side to side as though she's warding off Ino's words in a manner akin to waving away pesky flies.

Apparently not cowed by having spectators, Ino seemingly swings a punch out of nowhere, and Sakura dodges with one of the most bizarre movements Sasuke's ever seen her make. More like she's being pulled backwards somehow than having moved herself.

Shadow clone? He wonders as Ino barely dodges a rebound swipe in a manner that seems quite clumsy, out of touch for the graceful Yamanaka.

Sakura laughs as she pulls in a feint, then lands a blow squarely to Ino's shoulder. She speaks as she does so, but Sasuke doesn't hear it, because the speaker starts playing the most inappropriate and crass excuse for music he's ever heard in his life, and he gawks at where the sound is coming from in offense.

Suggestive phrasing and salacious lyrics - something about tasting that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, taking a seat on someone's lap - assail his eardrums. Sasuke doesn't know how anyone could even muster the confidence to sing something like this, wrinkling his nose. It's so-

Naruto snickers to his right.

"You and Sakura-chan are so alike," he chortles, blue eyes twinkling with mischief as Sasuke's vision is involuntarily drawn to him. Sasuke can't even think of a response, so stunned into silence, other than just outright shoving the idiot. Meanwhile, Sakura and Ino in the distance are starting to move more, Sakura's movements still carrying an odd grace about them.

A fresh stanza starts reverberating that's somehow dirtier than the one that preceded it, and Sasuke looks to the speaker against the grass in disbelief. The dobe pulls himself back up vertically in his peripheral vision, still guffawing.

And it is then that Sasuke notes the trimmed flower stems set neatly near the music player: pale violet verbena clusters and two blushing azalea blooms, stark contrast against pale green grass. They're placed aside a familiar tote bag, a contrast in that it's haphazardly laid open as if in haste to find something; Sasuke assumes it to be either the container of sunblock or water bottle spilling out of it. And, mirroring it on the other side, are neatly clipped blue gentian - he only remembers the name from memorizing the list of useful wildflowers at the Academy as a child - and a handful of vibrant orange calendula.

A triumphant whoop from Ino cleaves through whatever bunk is playing now, wrenching Sasuke from his thoughts and anchoring him back to the fight at hand. He's surprised to see the blonde brandishing a kunai now, sharp edges catching stray sunbeams, though he's confused as to what she is feeling so positive about; to his eyes, Sakura appears unhurt.

Sakura then dissolves into a billowing vortex of illusionary cherry blossom petals. Pink briefly takes over the cerulean sky.

A substitution… not a puff of smoke.

Ino's voice slices through the artifice like a blade. "Do you have to be such a showoff all the time?" Sasuke notes something is clasped within Ino's free hand; it's almost invisible against her pale skin. With deft precision, she slices at it with her kunai and for a fleeting moment he catches sight of gossamer strings shimmering in her grasp.

The pieces align themselves instantaneously. Kankuro is a puppet specialist.

"Huh. That's new," Naruto comments, shaking his head with a grin.

"I mean, I admit that had some flare," Ino is continuing, rotating as she surveys the perimeter and yelling against a lewd background chorus barreling onwards into indecency. "But a little on the nose, don'tcha think?"

"As fleeting as Hanami," Sakura's voice rings out in return, as if it's it's inside joke at decimating volume. Ino bursts out laughing, hand briefly falling to clutch at her stomach.

"Oh, Forehead, we are gonna ANNIHILATE that fucker!" The kunai leaves her hand with deadly accurate force, finding home in a seemingly nondescript area of the tree strip; this time, a puff of smoke rises into the air. More strings sway aimlessly in the slight breeze, suddenly unattached to something, to which Ino does not seem the least bit surprised. And Sakura descends from above.

Brilliant.

"Wait, so," Naruto stammers, mouth open. "Sakura-chan… is the real one? This is just like that Granny Chiyo all over again!"

It's puppeteering, but the puppet's the real one, a shadow clone pulling the strings with the keen advantage of operating with Sakura's sharp intellect, able to anticipate movements from afar much like the way she plays chess or go. No need for her to squander an ounce of energy or chakra sidestepping swipes; she doesn't even need to concern herself with velocity. A single clone does the work for her, leaving all of her energy ready to either deliver one decisive strike while any true enemy is probably none the wiser or to hook her opponent with additional strings to begin manipulating their body against them, creating an enemy with lowered defenses. No one would expect a ninja to take such a risk, let alone a med-nin. And then, if they do figure it out, they target the concealed puppeteer, only to realize it's a fake and the real Sakura is already attacking them within striking distance. Few would see through it, and even if they did manage to, Sakura has the brute strength to snap the strings from her in a pinch if needed.

She's clearly not imbuing chakra into her punches now - Sakura lands a few slugs here and there, knuckles brushing Ino's calf and another glide to her elbow as they spar normally - but he imagines if she were to use it, to truly use it, any attacker would be dead or incapacitated before they even comprehended what was happening.

The spectacle is captivating enough that he can almost block out the barrage of indecent things being pummeled into the air by the speaker to his left. Almost.

He has to give Yamanaka credit for at least being creative in turn.

Rather abruptly, Ino kicks the back of her knee in some odd rendition of the manner in which little kids try to beat each other by cheating races at the Academy. Sakura twitches in surprise and tries to shove her away but goes down laughing, dragging the other kunoichi with her. From there, Sakura gains the upper hand despite being outsized, her palm pressing firmly against Ino's forehead in lieu of a kunai to the neck; Sasuke assumes she's using chakra to heighten the amount of force needed to override muscle and sinew.

Ino, of all things, begins tickling her.

It starts with simple fingers against her ankles. Sakura twitches, elbows her arms away as she tries not to laugh. It would never work in a real fight, Sasuke thinks, but being her friend…

A ripple of laughter escapes Sakura, her arm pushing away once more with a playful force. It gives Ino an opening, who, continuing her nontraditional approach, goes clutching for Sakura's ear. With a swift twist followed up with a nimble somersault, she retreats, clutching something small in her hand and cackling.

In the moment that follows, it becomes inordinately clear that what Ino has stolen is indeed an earplug, and that said device had been effectively serving as a barrier against the cacophony around them, because Sakura's mouth falls open, dumbstruck as she seems to hear the content of the music for the first time.

Sakura can only stare for a moment, seemingly incredulous, at her friend as indecency begins to besiege her ears: now it's something that's clearly meant to reference some sort of… fellatio. And even though he's embarrassed by it, and even though he's so annoyed with Naruto for clocking this way he and Sakura are apparently like-minded in that such explicitness is inappropriate in a public setting - or perhaps any setting, he doesn't know, no reference for normalcy- he's also more amused than he cares to admit that, even from this distance, he can tell her entire face burgeons vivid crimson.

Ino's laughter peals through the air once more, unapologetic even as she finds herself on the receiving end of another pinning maneuver. This time, however, it carries far more intensity; Ino's face is pressed into the coarse dirt beneath them by one of Sakura's unwavering hands while both of her own are held captive in a vice-like grip via Sakura's remaining one.

The song ends, yet Ino continues laughing as if this entire situation is a grand comedic masterpiece. Sakura appears to mumble a string of words under her breath to her friend before rising to her feet, face still incarnadine.

"That it?!" Naruto calls through the lingering mirth, his question hanging in the air once he appears to realize no new song is about to fill the silence; evidently it was the concluding track.

Ino manages to pull herself upright amidst her laughter - "Yeah, that's it!" - as Sakura removes the remaining earplug from her opposite ear, busying herself with locating its missing twin in the sea of green blades underfoot; Ino must have tossed it aside. Sasuke watches, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as she takes a suspiciously long amount of time to locate the object, almost as if what she's actually attempting is to buy time for her flushed cheeks to return to their natural hue.

Eventually she seems to find it; she shoves the now-pair in a pocket that her skirt apparently has, seemingly not into any sort of carrying case. And that is so Sakura that it nearly makes him snort: leaving structural disarray in a training ground for Genin to clean up but refusing to litter.

Ino outpaces Sakura back to their things, beelining to the opposite side of the speaker and immediately reaching for her water, a small jug concealed further back from the flowers that she must have brought with her. She presses a button on the speaker as she takes a few gulps.

"So how many times are you averaging getting that, these days?" Naruto questions from his right, drawing Sasuke's attention. When he swivels his head back to Ino, she's shrugging, smiling.

"Once a month, maybe." The blonde kunoichi speaks with an air of casual indifference that Sasuke suspects is mostly for show.

"Once every two months," Sakura cuts in assertively, finally reaching the edge of the clearing. "Tops." A rosy hue still paints her cheeks, a detail that doesn't escape Sasuke's observation and stirs within him further amusement.

"Can't you let me brag a little?" Ino bemoans, dramatic sigh echoing through the air with near-theatrical flair as she swipes sweat from her forehead using the back of her hand. "Asuma-sensei would have said I was very scrappy if he saw that, considering. It's frustrating, getting my ass handed to me every week."

Sakura reaches for her own water bottle, shifting her weight to the side and putting one hand on her hip, which promptly reminds Sasuke that her skirt is… short. He knows she's wearing shorts beneath it, but the amount of upper thigh showing is still profoundly distracting-

"Well, Sakura-chan is pretty cool." Naruto's voice is tinged with pride. "I didn't know you knew how to do all that puppet stuff!"

Sasuke's eyes find themselves wandering dangerously close to Sakura's navel, shrouded behind netting, before he promptly finds the pale flowers at her feet intensely interesting. She must shrug at Naruto; he can sort of see the motion out of the corner of his eye.

"Eh, it's new. Just something I'm trying… And Shishou would have me running endless laps around the village for such a mistake," Sakura sighs, completely oblivious to his careful study. Her body subtly tilts towards Ino, he thinks, judging by the adjustment of her feet. "Or worse." He hears her take a sip, then shake her bottle, diminutive remaining water droplets thunking uselessly against the sides of the plastic. The movement draws his eye instinctively upward - focus on her face, idiot - only to find a frown creasing Sakura's forehead as she assesses her now-empty drink.

"It builds character," Ino says in a mock impression of someone Sasuke finds he can't place; it's either an inside joke or a poor impression that falls short of the mark. Sakura swivels to face the blonde kunoichi with a pointed look. There's a shake of her head, but also a warm smile playing on her lips that belies any real irritation, as if it's a positive memory.

"Spare some water?" Sakura questions, gesturing towards Ino's bottle.

The kunoichi opposite them shakes her head, snickering.

"I don't think you want to share with me today," she says with a smug smile. One hand lifts to punctuate air quotes around her next word as well as subsequent laughing: "Germs, we'll call them."

Gross. Sasuke feels very validated when Sakura makes a gagging noise, wrinkling her nose and delicate face contorting into an expression of distaste. He feels further validated when Naruto, better part of three seconds behind them, makes a similar disgusted noise in eventual comprehension. Even he has standards, it would seem. Sasuke wonders, then, if the dobe had been exposed to the music prior to this, grown a bit more immune to it. His Sannin had quite a reputation, as far as Sasuke knows; to his understanding, Naruto was on the road with him for quite a while.

The dobe continues to make a horrified expression that seems to imply he's internally scrubbing his mind with bleach. Sakura, meanwhile, blinks rapidly several times as if to accomplish the same task before she stoops towards her bag again, this time ultimately retrieving a white bottle of sunscreen. And that is also so Sakura that it nearly makes him snort: diligently reapplying sunscreen despite her sparring session seemingly having wrapped itself up.

"How come you just say stuff like that?" Naruto finally relocates his voice as Sakura carefully begins distributing the sunblock across the exposed portions of her arms and neck, an action that draws Sasuke's rather abrupt attention. The way she's smoothing it over her skin-

"I don't want that mental image-"

Sasuke could say a lot about mental images, just now. He opts to shoot the idiot a withering look before he's caught sneaking surreptitious looks at Sakura. Naruto may be less… detailed than Ino in some regards, but he still has zero room to talk. Directly voicing such things, however, would inadvertently disclose that he retains the majority of that particular conversation. It's an admission he'd rather not make.

Sakura bends to dig through the bottom of her bag, rummaging through its depths until she unearths another bottle of sunscreen, this one equipped with a spray nozzle. His mouth curls, threatening to smile as she makes quick work of applying a layer to her scalp.

"That's your own fault for interrupting girl time, stupid. And don't pretend you're all innocent. Just because you're married doesn't make it any less down and dirty-"

Sakura swiftly sprays down her legs and even her feet, too, tossing the bottle to Ino who catches it effortlessly and starts applying it despite being in the middle of bickering. And then Sasuke actually does smile, albeit it being a small one; they certainly have a routine.

"I mean, yeah, but I don't just come out and say stuff like that! I'm gonna have nightmares!" Naruto bemoans. Ino tilts her head to the side as if she couldn't possibly care less about this conversation.

"Can you just shoo and go be a lovesick newlywed somewhere else? Gods forbid some of us have fun and have the audacity to talk about it!" Ino gestures towards Sakura with her free hand. "What am I supposed to do, just let her drink it?! What kind of friend would I be then?!"

Suddenly, Yamanaka's gaze shifts from Naruto and lands squarely on Sasuke with expectation. "What do you think?"

He wrinkles his nose in a silent display of repugnance, then looks around only to find the dobe and Sakura are also both staring at him expectantly, a relic of early team dynamics still apparently sutured into their interactions today. It seems he really is supposed to dignify that with a verbal response.

Without uttering a word, Sasuke reaches into his pocket and pulls out his own canteen. He then hands it over to Sakura, whose jade eyes are wide and cheeks are suddenly glowing again. The way she smiles before she takes a sip kindles a heat at his neck that he hadn't anticipated.

"Touching." Ino looks at Naruto as if she's accomplished what she set out to prove. "See? Even Sasuke agrees with me! And since when does he ever agree with anyone?" A pause is had as Sasuke frowns, and then Ino's blue eyes are teasing.

"Well, unless it's Forehead, I mean!" She says it in a singsong lilt that only makes Sasuke frown more deeply.

"Well, duh he'll share with her; that's 'cause teme and Sakura-chan swap spit all the time! And if 'ya want proof, just check out Sakura-chan's bathroom counter-"

That's going to be a nasty bruise, Sasuke thinks as Sakura's fist, luminous with her apple green chakra, connects with Naruto's chest and sends the idiot barreling to the other side of the clearing. It's almost satisfying enough that it makes him forget how warm his face is feeling.

Ino whistles as the dobe nears his landing; he just barely manages to right his trajectory and narrowly avoids slamming full-body into a one of the grounds' many towering trees.

"Can't deny I'm curious about that comment," the blonde kunoichi remarks as Naruto bellows, "OWWWWW!" from across the clearing, stumbling for a moment to right his balance as he clutches his left rib.

Yamanaka then seems to study both he and Sakura for a moment and Sasuke is thankful that Sakura has the paler skin of the two of them; her red face is more apparent and thus she is the target of the two likely to draw more attention.

"Well, would you look at that," she muses aloud, grinning. "Two peas in a pod! But I'm smart, so I'll save the teasing for later, when you're not properly equipped to pin me again." The kunoichi tips back her water bottle one last time, draining it completely before stowing it in the cross body duffle bag she's pulled from behind the cliff overhang.

It appears Sakura's used to threats of future mischief from Ino. Sasuke wonders, briefly, if Ino teases her about him regularly; it's not something that really occurred to him, prior to this moment. He watches his girlfriend's throat bob as she polishes off the rest of the water from his canteen. She then smiles at him shyly as she hands it back.

"Thank you," Sakura tells him under her breath as the dobe finally springs back across the clearing behind her, clearing the distance in a few short hops. Sasuke dips his head once in acknowledgment, face tingling with warmth; she really didn't need to thank him for it. She's been feeding him, besides.

Before another word can be exchanged between them, Naruto's voice slices through the silence like a knife, and the spell is broken.

"Heya… Sakura-chan…"

Sasuke rolls his eyes to the cerulean sky, well-acquainted with the way Naruto nearly always initiates apologies to Sakura after being punched into next week. "Have you been practicing your, er… punching! Yeah, punching? Because that was pretty impressive! I'm sorry for teasing you and teme so much-"

It would be rather useful, Sasuke contemplates, to be able to morph into an inconspicuous fly on the wall, or in this case, ground, in such instances. Despite having grown accustomed to Sakura's near-constant presence following his prolonged absence from Konoha, he doubts whether he'll ever manage to completely extricate himself from Naruto's incessant teasing… or anyone else's, for that matter. It's too personal. While he acknowledges that he tends towards introversion in most all things, disliking being perceived, he always becomes especially self-conscious, it seems, when others are privy to what's between him and Sakura. His gaze wanders to the ground in search of some solid certainty and escape from this conversation, because it seems rude to just walk away like his worser impulses are telling him to do just now.

"And I was thinking-"

Ino picks up her speaker in one hand, then gathers her flowers carefully in the other, rising gracefully back to her full height.

"We could all go out to eat! Uh, for lunch! And, and! I would buy, so you know I'm really sorry-"

And the set of the blonde kunoichi's posture changes, just then. From relaxed to… not relaxed, shoulders tensing. A frown creases her brow and her blue eyes dart towards Sakura with an expression he recognizes but can't immediately place.

"And we could even go somewhere you choose! It doesn't have to be Ichiraku's-"

And Sakura seems to tune out Naruto completely, disregarding him and turning to her friend despite the fact that it is clearly her call as the one being apologized to. And that, undeniably,is so Sakura that it rather abruptly slams several puzzle pieces, sorted separately in a metaphorical pile for safekeeping, into clarifying place. Though Sasuke has not activated his Sharingan, everything is swiftly sheer lucidity, a slow sinking stomach and outspoken social butterfly fallen uncharacteristically quiet, the array of missing flower cuttings - verbena and azalea and daffodils and ranunculus - and the smell of freshly reapplied sunscreen lingering in the air, even though they are supposed to be heading somewhere to have lunch as is their conventional routine, spinning and spinning and spinning until it's roaring into him with the equal weight that three black tomoe would have.

"You already promised we were going there, idiot," Sasuke interrupts, voice quiet yet unyielding, turning slightly to further his meaning to depart on their own. His gaze dances to Sakura's briefly, and it's exactly what he expected to find.

Deferment, because it is not her choice, rooted in care.

It's only a flash and then it's gone, fleetingly replaced by searching and calculated jade. And that's all he needs to be certain; he doesn't need to look to Ino to confirm it, content to give her privacy.

"What?! I don't-" The protest seems to die in confusion as Sakura's features soften into an expression of warmth and appreciation, directed just for a moment at Sasuke before it's gone.

"I'll see you for dinner still?" Sakura mentions more than asks, a gentle smile now and furrowed brows as Naruto seems to look at Sasuke in sincere bafflement as to what's happening. The exchange seems to snap Ino back into action, offers her raillery to latch onto; she snickers something teasing under her breath about lovebirds.

And Sasuke nods at his girlfriend just once before pivoting to retrace their steps down the gravel path back into the village. His lone hand closes firmly around the dobe's shoulder to drag him if need be. Naruto sputters out a few disjointed words before managing a hasty goodbye to the two kunoichi, his feet scrambling over loose pebbles in an attempt not to trip.

---

It's two in the morning, and he can't sleep.

Sasuke knows this because he has spent the last two hours trying and failing, staring at a dark wall and the faint outlines of furniture, reflecting on a day that was eerily commonplace for what Konoha is to him nowadays.

Too much steaming ramen to fit inside just one bowl at Ichiraku's, yet he still made efforts to finish it despite the temperature. Naruto's constant chatter, talking his ear off. Condensation filling his apartment's small bathroom as he took a badly-needed shower. Shared dinner and the wafting scent of tea and soft smiles accompanying quiet conversation with Sakura, the muted colors of a documentary about the aquafauna of the miles-long inland lake sandwiched between the Lands of Fangs, Claws, and Mountains. And now, the hum of air conditioning, their team photo in its frame at his bedside alongside a book, rustling sheets, cool and easing to the touch yet empty, an inability to get truly comfortable.

Seventeen is awfully young to become a de facto clan head, and years are an awfully long time to carry around grief.

Sasuke knows this, because he became one, in essentially name only by design, at the age of seven, and he has been lugging his grief around like a rusted otiose anchor ever since.

He wanders futilely around his apartment for a while, grown tired of gazing at walls. He studies the silver sheen thrown over the puzzle box by the moonlight leaking in from the window. He meticulously reorganizes the box of Sakura's letters and other kept slips of paper, aligning all of the edges save the photo at the bottom of the pile. He washes a small load of laundry thoroughly, sweat-soaked Shinobi garb turned fresh and new, before laying it out to dry in the cool air.

He stares out the window at the cherry blossom tree across the street, its desaturated leaves etched the fastidiously detailed hue and shape of Konoha mid-summer. He thinks about the weight of responsibility and expectation. He thinks about a strip of paper that reads emulate what you respect in your friends and its opposite, parchment that Sakura wouldn't reveal the words of, insistent that she keep it known to herself only so that it would come true.

He thinks about Sakura's shelves of poetry books, marveling at the possibility of shared space following nearly thirteen years of going without, both by design and by stupid voluntarily solitary choice. He thinks about kissing her most of all, the only productive thing he's learned to do as of yet with such violent devotion, clasped hands and soft fingertips and want, the way the arch of neck just beneath her chin feels against his lips.

And how much he loves her. He has always respected the type of person Sakura is, but somehow said feeling keeps bursting at the seams, fated to outgrow the confines of their previous containers as he learns more about her, whatever latest kind, world-altering pursuit she has taken upon herself.

Eventually, when he has exhausted all other options, he opens an old book with a crow adorning its cover from his bedside and begins to pore over it by lamplight, though "read" is a strong word for what he's doing; mostly he's skimming at random, in pursuit of some sort of convoluted purpose, guidance and the like.

He finds it in mere minutes, a phrase that makes sense to him, several dozen pages in.

The spring still flows, the reason for the house.

He rereads and rereads it, traces the line of text with his lone hand, committing it to memory via kekkei genkai alongside a handful of others. The good doesn't outweigh the bad his eyes have seen just yet, he's sure, but if he's at it for years, Sasuke might make a dent, eventually.

And it would be strange, he supposes as he shoves his lone hand in his pocket, for a Yamanaka to give business to competing flower shops when their own family's is allegedly the best in the village. But it would also be strange, would hurt, to purchase or put together bouquets in said flower shop in the presence of the only other family member who truly understands your pain because your loss was also theirs.

Ino's mother has helmed that flower shop since he was a young child; a member of one clan knows these things about members of another. Sasuke tries to imagine what it would be like, to attempt to cook senbei in what remains of his aunt and uncle's bakery when he knows what it was like to find both of their still bodies yards from the oven.

It isn't an identical circumstance, but it's enough to understand, to cut. Were he thrust into such a position, he presumes he would abandon the idea of working at the shop entirely just to avoid the possibility of having to witness someone craft a tribute meant for Sakura's headstone. The thought alone creates a visceral reaction, stomach plummeting to his toes like a stone tossed into an abyss and vision swimming as if obscured by fog. And the Yamanakas are not a large clan, nor are they sticklers for tradition enough to adhere to solely advantageous marriage alliances; Ino's mother in all likelihood very much married Ino's father out of love rather than duty.

He finds the bouquet exactly where he expected to: propped up with care against the memorial marker for Yamanaka Inoichi, arranged in such a way that the verbena does indeed look nice. It's a kindness to Ino's mother, he thinks; Inoichi is remembered without provoking her pain at her place of work on a weekly basis. She can confront the loss on her own terms, come here alone if she needs to rather than amidst a bustling store where she's expected to maintain composure for the benefit of their customers.

The Genin's gravestone also has fresh blooms, a messy redolent cohesion of fuchsia, cobalt, and marigold that appears to have been rearranged a bit from whoever put it together first. A twin bouquet tops Hyuga Neji's headstone, small but more neatly arranged. A lone violet, stem spun to intertwine with a lone red tulip, is laid circumspectly with purpose across Asuma's grave.

The Nohara girl's stone is far further down; it takes two minutes of walking for it to come within his line of sight, within the center of this plot of land. A bouquet of fresh hydrangeas are laid there once more, the same pale violet as the last time; Kakashi has clearly visited again.

It is time to stop being a coward, he decides.

So Sasuke, despite his trepidation, takes a walk.

Crickets strum, and somewhere an owl hoots, location obfuscated by night's cloak. It's still abandoned, this section of the village, only skeletal remains of once-thriving foundations left astride eschew and Pain's invasion. It's not surprising that it is so ravaged; no one was here to look after this place, and the buildings here were likely close to the first initial impact, vulnerable and exposed.

And, he supposes, no one must be particularly eager to work or live somewhere where such a horror happened in every single ruined structure. It's a blight on Konoha's landscape, really.

You probably couldn't pay someone to live here.

It matters little. Sasuke knew the blueprint of the Uchiha compound by heart even prior to the massacre, and has replayed it in countless nightmares since. It's become as familiar to Sasuke as his own reflection. He knows the rough number of footfalls it takes to traverse the expanse between his ancestral home and the police station, albeit the number has been whittled down in the years he was away. He knows the curved entryway of the distant cousin's house where his parents once took himself and Itachi for a formal supper; his father had berated him for speaking out of turn as soon as they traversed the one-hundred seventy-three (one-hundred eleven) steps home and were beyond the threshold of their front door. He also knows that eight symmetrical flower beds once sprawled either side of the street near the corner his aunt and uncle's bakery was on, mirroring each other perfectly, and the exact angle said aunt would stand near said corner to sneak Sasuke and Itachi sweet bean buns when they swung by in the afternoon. She always made them promise it wouldn't spoil their dinner.

He knows which relative lived where, though he didn't enter many of those homes until-

Stop.

The moon above keeps him company. Fireflies, too, buzzing at the seams of old property lines in vigil, encircling the wilted remains of bushes, years decrepit and surrendered to nature's reclaiming grasp; it's all choked with soaring weeds and dandelions, the same streets where he played as a young child. He wonders if Sakura likes the moon - he knows she likes stargazing - or if Itachi did. He thinks of a crescent phase, cradled in the palm of a hand he no longer has, and further, several nasty scars caressing his wrist from times when he was young and reckless and severely lacked better judgment.

He thinks of that hand, misses that hand, is haunted by that hand, shoving a Chidori at Sakura. He thinks of her devoting such time and care into the growing of flowers, seemingly entirely for others. The susurrant specter of a tombstone inscribed with her name flashes before his mind's eye-

Stop.

He traverses the narrow alley where he happened upon the woman, his fourth cousin twice removed, with her newborn, his fourth cousin thrice removed, situated right between the remnants of another cousin's dwelling and a store that he vaguely remembers as one selling furniture, old and traditional.

The memory hits him like a punch to the gut; it threatens to expel everything within him in a violent bout of nausea. His mind replays the gruesome tableau: ghostly pale faces frozen, minuscule fingers devoid of life peeking out from underneath a blanket adorned with uchiwa fans along its hem.

Heart pounding, he quickens his gait as if he could outpace the grisly memory, as if he could outpace any of them. Somewhere within those steps, he feels about four feet tall again, tense and scared, bile at the back of his throat and tripping over his own two feet.

And suddenly, he is there.

There's still a path leading to the front door of his childhood home, faint phantom stones veering away from the main gravel of the road, discernible only if he squints. The actual structure is gone, vanished into time, but the vague outline of a porch lines the anterior of the foundation when he ambles around the wreckage, basing different in understructure than the house. It's smaller than he remembered somehow, much like Kakashi's apartment had seemed to shrink in retrospect. In the span of two bygone summers when they were on a break from the Academy and Itachi was dispatched on missions, Sasuke would drape himself dearn across the dark lacquered wood on the porch in the evenings. His mother's voice would always summon him in before the hour grew too late, humming softly and watering her white lilies one last time for the day, but he liked looking at the yard, the way the leaves rippled in the breeze.

Now he wouldn't fit in the space sprawled out even if he tried, a full foot and a half too long. He knows his father was tall; Sasuke finds himself wondering if he's grown enough to match or even surpass him. Sakura could probably find out from medical records, if he worked up the mettle to ask.

His gaze sweeps over what was once their yard, tracing the path water would flow during rain with his brother's eyes, before pivoting towards what was once their home. He studies the dust, the dirt, atrophying timber beams and once-shining flooring dulled by time and the elements. His mother would take great care in adorning that windowsill with samurai dolls for Boys Day, vibrant full regalia lining the surface as if standing watch against intruders like to land on their threshold. And once, during Setsubun, their great uncle had playfully donned the traditional demon mask and snuck around to the back door, simply so he and Itachi could throw beans at him a second time and shout, "Devils out! Fortune in!" as Uchiha Mikoto pretended to be frightened and then saved by her two sons. They'd fallen onto the porch wood in fits of laughter, believing they'd done more than enough to ensure good luck for another year.

Three years later Itachi slit said great uncle's throat while he was asleep in bed, and four years later and beyond, Sasuke would stick his bleeding wrist out that window when it rained, watching the blood trickle down, down until the wound mended itself.

Sasuke thinks of anger, of regret, of puzzles and surrender and devolving, and wonders if he could find a single piece if he were to sift through the wreckage.

Emulate what you respect in your friends.

He thinks of Sakura and Naruto caring for others, devoting their lives to helping, altruistic and meritorious in all senses of the words. He thinks of dead Genin in graveyards, dreams snuffed out prematurely, the craquelure of their profession. He thinks of sparring sessions and shared lunches and missing time and the brief flash of unease that flickered across Yamanaka Ino's face today before she smothered it, and how he has never heard Sakura say so much as a word about visiting Yamanaka Inoichi's memorial stone with her friend every week for support, kind hands gripping stems cut from a garden she grew herself to offer, so the burden is not solely on Ino to bear.

…And I would go with you. Anywhere. Sakura is there for her best friend weekly and runs a hospital and a clinic and completes research yet still asked him where he would like to live as if she would uproot her entire life to follow him if the answer was somewhere else.

She would come here with him, too, every day if he asked; he's as sure as her eyes are jade green, as sure as she told him as such when they were thirteen on a night much like this one, sky embroidered with stars. And she wouldn't tell a soul.

Would they live in the district now, had fate's cruel threads not overtwisted on the likes of his family? If different people, those less mendacious, had been at the helm of power? His parents would likely still be occupying his childhood home, but there were traditional houses elsewhere in the Uchiha District. Would Itachi live just a stone's throw away from them with a wife, Uchiha or otherwise? Would there be white lilies in both their yards, transplants from their mother's now lost garden instead of random offshoots haphazardly shrouding stone, belying his regrettable lack of practice?

Would there be nieces or nephews to spoil, to take fishing at the pond, when he wasn't away on missions? Would they pick flowers for whoever their mother was? And, eventually, would there be babbling children of their own with raven hair like ink pointing every which way, balanced on Sakura's hip or cradled in the arms of Itachi's wife or sprawled across the floor of the bakery, engrossed in a puzzle or table games on languid Monday afternoons?

It's a future so far gone that it's difficult to imagine yet paradoxically not difficult at all, because he somehow knows.

Uchiha Itachi, prodigy and slave to duty, would never have been truly happy here. Too much of the perfidious was placed on him too soon. So why is Sasuke still angry with him?

You shouldn't just suffer in silence, if something hurts.

A world born of dreams or of reality, it doesn't matter; Sakura would find little joy in this ignivomous place, he thinks. It's too steeped in solitude, too louring and marred by elegiac tragedy when she's all sunshine. She deserves far better, happiness and laughter, a legacy that's not fester and rot. Perhaps that's why he likes spending time in her apartment so much. It's exactly what she's chosen for herself; there's comfort in not having to second guess what she likes or prefers.

So what to do with this place? The land is his, placed in a trust he inherited once he turned eighteen. Not because he asked for it, of course, but because nobody else wanted it. Each edge of the village has expanded outwards, stretched like elastic and new construction abound, except here.

"I miss you," he whispers into the din of the night, and he can feel it, a layer sloughing off; there's both stasis and power in admitting it aloud, letting it resonate amidst retrocognition, even if it feels like someone is missing from whatever tempest of souls lingers heavy here.

The tears come once he's back at his apartment, everything coalescing between his head and his heart, root rot at the throat. The pain, too; the humidity is getting to his bad arm, paired with the anamnesis of folded paper at his fingers. He lets his gaze linger on his bed through the blur before he proceeds to the bathroom and seats himself on the icy embrace of the tile floor. Drops inch down his cheeks as time sags and screams and slips away, sour on his tongue.

---

Dawn breaks, and the earliest tendrils of the sun puncture wherever he's been. Sasuke finds himself mechanically assembling a strong cup of ochazuke through the ache - Sakura would want him to eat, he knows - and heading to the window to see what the new day looks like, more out of duty to routine than any true eagerness. The world outside is waking up, ignifying and shaking off the remnants of the umbra veil; perhaps seeing it will dispel his melancholy.

Across the whisper quiet street, a crow sits perched atop the highest bough of the cherry blossom tree, easternmost feathers rutilant in the morning light.

---

AN:

1. Tsunade just wants her favorite apprentice to get laid by someone who knows what they're doing. If you were wondering. ;)

2. Waiting Room by Phoebe Bridgers ghost-wrote the end of this.

3. The poetry book Sasuke finds exists in IRL! I found it as an accident as I was looking up poetry book names that he could possibly find and some of the writing is so Sasuke it hurts. I can't say everything referenced from the book within this fic will be a direct quote from it, but the parts included in this chapter are! It's called Tongue of a Crow by Peter Coyote if you are curious!

4. I am starting my thesis for my master's program in the fall and will be working on it through the rest of the school year, hopefully walking at graduation in May! I would love to get out more than 2-3 updates a year, but I can't make any promises. Please know that even if I don't update for a while or respond to comments right away, I have not abandoned this fic; I'm just a busy person trying to finish my program. In the meantime, follow me on Twitter cherrynojutsu! Also, it would mean the absolute WORLD to me and my students if you could maybe give my pinned tweet a retweet so it can get some more exposure as I prepare my classroom for another school year!

5. Happy late Sasusaku Month! ❤️I wish you all love, light, blessed harvests, and so on. Let me know your thoughts in the comments as always!