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.

11. Fruits

AN: /rolls up to all the fic sites three months and one day late with Starbucks.

---

Chapter 11: Fruits

Fractals of peach light catch the pastel strands of Sakura's hair as they make their way to Ichiraku's together for Team Seven's monthly dinner.

Naruto and Sai are already there when they arrive, perched on stools that match a currant red counter. His replacement is working diligently on something in a sketchbook as Naruto watches him warily, two seats away. Sasuke assumes they're reserved for Sakura and himself; two glasses of water already sit there. The dobe's sandal is placed on the seat to his left, reserving it for Kakashi.

"Sakura-chan! Teme!" Naruto calls once he spots them, grinning and looking very much like someone who has just been rescued.

Sakura waves beside him in greeting; Sasuke just nods. Sai glances up from whatever he's doing, nodding once in recognition.

"What are you working on, Sai?" Sakura asks politely as she takes her usual seat, briefly pointing to shoyu ramen on the menu when Teuchi's daughter looks at her expectantly. Sasuke slips into his own seat beside her, between her and Naruto, pointing out hakata tonkotsu to the waitress before eyeing the corner of the sketchbook he can see from this angle. Sasuke hasn't really seen what he draws, outside of mission ninjutsu. He can't see what's on the majority of the page due to the way his replacement is situated; Sakura must not be able to, either.

Sai smiles blankly. "It is an idea I had for a new piece. I have been experimenting with more ink washes; it is a time consuming process, and requires careful planning of layers. I am plotting where I intend the ink to darken in value." He pauses just long enough to make it an awkward one, then asks, "Would you like to see it?"

Sasuke notices that Naruto stiffens on his other side. Sakura, conversely, laughs, a high twinkling sound that he loves.

"Sure." She turns briefly to peer over her shoulder at Naruto past Sasuke's shoulder. "Better look away, Naruto," she teases.

"A married man should be well-acquainted with feminine beauty," Sai states with no emotion. Sasuke's not particularly well-versed in art, but he presumes he now understands what must be on the page. He thinks Naruto twitches behind him.

"Well, ex-cuuuuuuuuuuse me for not wanting to see your fucking porn drawings," Naruto grumbles behind him. "I'm still scarred from the last time!"

"This is not meant to be erotica," Sai says with no inflection. "Your taking of it that way is reflective of your lack of understanding. Nudity is our natural state, free from outside influence that may date the piece. The female form on its own is not inherently sexual just for existing-"

"Whatever! I don't wanna see that shit! I'm married now, and the only one I wanna see that way is my wife, and-" the dobe interrupts loudly, drumming his fingers on the counter and looking resolutely away as Sai continues.

"-And given your crass signature ninjutsu, I did not think it would afflict you so, Dickless."

Naruto's remaining shoe flies past Sasuke's face, then Sakura's, before Sai swats it away effortlessly with the blunt end of his pencil.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

It's boisterous enough even in the din of the supper crowd for most of the people in the immediate area to look at the dobe with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.

Our future Hokage, Sasuke thinks drolly as Sai slides the sketchbook to Sakura without even a flinch at the sudden increase of volume. It's now within Sasuke's line of sight.

The figure of a nude woman is rendered on the page, rough as if she's fading into existence in the texture of the paper. Sections of flesh are encircled and shaded in lightly to give the figure depth. It's really not particularly bold - the pose is mostly relaxed, with a slight arch of the back, resulting in the ribs' extension, gently shaded in to give it more of a sense of depth. The more sensitive areas are mostly out of view from the vantage point at which it was drawn; the side of a single breast is bared, but other than that, it's fairly tame.

"It's lovely," Sakura compliments as she examines the sketch. "Great job on the ribcage."

"Thank you," Sai says, sounding genuine. "I have been practicing. They are…" Sai pauses, as if searching for a phrase, then adds, in an inflection that doesn't quite sound like his own, "They are a bitch to draw."

Sasuke resists the urge to twitch; that remark has Ino written all over it. Naruto snorts beside him, gaze focused resolutely ahead.

"Ino's been teaching you more new phrases," Sakura responds; her inflection implies she is amused. "Well, anyways, I don't know what Naruto's going on about; it's honestly pretty tame, considering. This one doesn't even look like Ino," Sakura states as she continues to examine the drawing beside him. Sasuke blinks as Sakura turns to stare down their other teammate past him. She adds, teasingly, "You should see their apartment."

"Sakura-chaaaaaaaaaaaaan," Naruto whines from the other side. "Stop. You're gonna give me nightmares."

Sakura chuckles.

"Yes. This woman is faceless; she could be anyone. Some of my other work is more recognizable," Sai says matter-of-factly, smiling. "Beautiful would kill me if I worked on those pieces in public."

"Ah, an artist and his muse," a familiar voice fades in behind them.

The four of them turn to see Kakashi over their shoulder, clad in Jonin dress.

Almost on time, Sasuke thinks.

"Lord Hokage," Sai greets first. "You are only five minutes late, this time."

"Yes, well… one must make time for the important things in life," Kakashi remarks as he places Naruto's sandal on his far shoulder, sliding into his seat; it nearly falls off again, though there's no ramen to save from it on this occasion, yet. The dobe barely manages to grab it, then realizes Sai still has his other shoe, pinning him with an unenthused glare. The artist stares at him blankly for several tense seconds before flippantly tossing it his way.

A cresting sense of nostalgia rises and sinks into Sasuke like ripples on water.

The copy ninja points at a bullet point on the menu to Ayame, ordering before saying, "Hello, everyone. How are we?"

"I'd be better if Sai would put that fucking drawing away," Naruto complains. Sakura giggles,and their old sensei looks anticipatorily past the three of them to Sai on the far end.

Sasuke watches Sakura cast a glance in Sai's direction; he nods, so Sakura slides the sketchbook down the counter. Sasuke carefully slides it the rest of the way; the dobe refuses to touch it, gaze firmly locked ahead on a shelf of spices inside the ramen stand, so Kakashi reaches to grab it.

"Huh," Kakashi says as he examines the drawing thoughtfully for the better part of a minute. "This is certainly nice. Very realistic." He moves to slide the sketchbook back down to Sai. As he does so, he inquires, "Things are going well with Ino, then? It's been awhile; I assume it's pretty serious."

Sasuke blinks, sliding the sketchbook back to Sakura, who slides it to Sai. After a moment of contemplation, he responds, smiling in a manner that is authentic.

"Yes. I am enamored with her."

Kakashi smiles, behind the mask. "Good. I'm very happy for you, you know, and I'm sure I'm not the only one." Their old sensei pauses as if searching Sai's expression for something, before he asks, "Are there wedding bells in your future?"

"Thank you, Lord Hokage." Sai is silent for a stretch as if in deep thought, face falling blank, before he smiles and answers cryptically, "I am not sure."

Their old sensei's attention drifts to Sakura, who is suddenly looking a little out of sorts, then Sasuke.

"And what about you two?"

Heat inks its way onto his neck as Naruto snickers, prompting him to cast a glare his way.

"They're nerding it up together, Kakashi-sensei!" Naruto pipes up from beside him, looking entirely amused. "Me and Sai went over to Sakura-chan's to watch a movie the other night, and they were doing science experiments on the floor."

Sasuke rolls his eyes, trying to will the color from his ears as Sai adds from his other side, "It was poison neutralization." He thinks Sakura is almost as red as the currant counters, out of the corner of his vision.

"Were they?" Kakashi drawls, looking extremely amused. "How romantic." His gaze shifts to Naruto. "I suppose they always were smarter than you."

Sasuke snorts, prompting the dobe to glare at him before redirecting his stink eye in Kakashi's direction. "Hey, now, I'm pretty smart! Even Hinata-chan thinks so!"

"You don't think she could be a little biased?" Kakashi questions, mouth quirking upwards and something resoundingly fond in his expression.

"Nuh-uh! No way! I'm the best ninja in Konoha and super smart!"

"Then solve the next scroll on your own, dead last," Sasuke gibes. He revels in the enthused chuckle that escapes Sakura to his right.

"Psssh, I TOTALLY could have solved that on my own," the blond insists, turning back to Sasuke, brows furrowed in annoyance. "In fact, if I hadn't gotten a head start on it for you, I bet-"

"Actually, Sasuke, I've been meaning to ask you if you'd be interested in deciphering more scrolls, when you're not on mission assignments," Kakashi interjects, leaning to look Sasuke's direction. Sasuke blinks as the dobe whips his head around in offense, jaw dropping but no words coming out just yet. "I've got a pile, actually. More bandits to foil and such, though some of them are less pressing than they are intel regarding potential threats further down the line."

"H-Hey! Wait a damn minute!" Naruto exclaims, looking explicitly offended.

"What? A good Hokage delegates work they aren't skilled in to their most capable comrades," Kakashi intones, barely sparing Naruto a glance and looking entirely amused. "It's okay to admit it's not your forte."

"I'm skilled!" Naruto whines. "I've been practicing a lot!"

"Not enough," Sai calls from behind him. Sasuke briefly looks at his replacement, and notes Sakura is biting her lip, looking as if she is trying to contain a laugh.

After a moment, Sasuke turns his attention back to Kakashi and nods once in acceptance. He doesn't mind doing it, and it's one more thing he can hold over Naruto's head. He supposes he really will need to acquire a lamp, now.

"Wonderful. Thank you, Sasuke," Kakashi says, smiling as the dobe pouts between them and reaching into the interior pocket of his vest. "I actually brought the more pressing one with me, in the event you agreed. Obviously it's confidential. This one is another regarding bandits; I believe it may contain directions to the location of their base of operations. A fringe group, northwest edge of Fire Country."

Kakashi reaches to hand the scroll to Sasuke, and Naruto glares at it as if it has personally insulted him. As Sasuke tucks it into his belt securely, Naruto and Sai's bowls arrive, and even the waitress seems amused; she must have overheard their conversation. She regards Naruto fondly as she delivers yuzu shio ramen to him before taking a few steps and setting what appears to be gochujang ramen with tofu in front of Sai.

The dobe mutters, "Fucking finally. Something to distract me from being bullied."

"It builds character," Kakashi asserts kindly, a fish-eating grin beneath his mask. "You'll be bullied much worse once you wear the hat."

The dobe is shoveling noodles into his mouth already, but he gives Kakashi an unimpressed look all the same. Their old sensei slants his gaze past Naruto to the rest of them, an expression on his face that communicates he is very entertained.

They talk a bit more, and then both Sasuke's and Sakura's food arrives, shortly followed by Kakashi's. It's good again, pork and fragrant scallions and ginger, swimming in broth tinged with sentimentality.

They've hardly been eating for more than five minutes when a small slug poofs into existence on Sakura's shoulder.

"Lady Sakura," the slug intones quietly. "There is an emergency."

She's off her stool in an instant, quickly setting money on the counter, and murmuring, "Surgery?" in question to her summoning. Kakashi, Naruto, and Sai also look at her, not seeming surprised in the slightest; this must be a fairly regular occurrence.

"Possibly," the slug responds. "They're running the tests."

"Alright; I'll see you guys later," Sakura says, gears turning behind jade eyes that linger on Sasuke last, with an expression that almost seems apologetic. He takes that to mean she'll be occupied for the duration of the evening; they had planned to spend time together at her apartment again, after this. He nods to show he understands. There's no reason for her to apologize for it; he'll see her tomorrow on her day off.

Sakura flits away in the general direction of the hospital, briefing beginning from the slug. Sasuke barely catches the outset of it as the voice fades with distance.

"A blow to the gut. There was a corrosive, acidic in nature… Hasn't reached the upper organs…"

That doesn't sound good.

A long scattering of seconds is spent looking after Sakura as she departs, Kakashi turns back to the rest of them. Sasuke thinks there's something in his lone visible eye that looks a lot like concern. When his focus shifts to his teammate, he sees the same concern reflected in cobalt.

Thus far he hasn't been around for any true emergencies that require Sakura's immediate presence at the hospital. Sasuke wonders if this happens often. It must; she runs the place.

A juncture passes in which the only sounds are those coming from their surroundings, mostly the ruckus of civilians eating and drinking and utterly oblivious to their sudden silence.

"Will you be taking Ugly's leftovers?" Sai tactlessly breaks the lull by asking, gesturing towards the remaining half of shoyu ramen left in Sakura's bowl.

Sasuke contemplates briefly. He supposes he could take it to his apartment to refrigerate overnight, and bring it to her tomorrow when he comes by. He's surprised the dobe didn't volunteer to eat it immediately.

He nods carefully, and Sai smiles at him.

"Well, worrying hospital summons aside…" Kakashi begins. When Sasuke glances at his sensei's food, he notices that a few bites are already missing and resists the urge to twitch. "What else is new?"

That perks the dobe up real quick.

"I broke teme's jaw on Thursday! And we got him to drink, Kakashi-sensei!"

Sasuke does twitch this time.

"You also broke two of your fingers, usuratonkachi." He takes a measured bite of his own food, chewing with narrowed eyes.

"Not my fault your jaw's as thick as your skull!" Naruto childishly sticks his tongue out at him.

Kakashi chuckles good-naturedly. "Oh? And I suppose Sakura was left to fix things. How nice."

"Mm-hmm! Aaaaaand, and, and! When we finished our drinks, I went to leave-" the dobe scrutinizes him before smirking and continuing in a sing-song voice, "But guess who went up to Sakura-chan's apartment after? I'll even give ya a hint! Not me."

Sasuke shoots him a caustic look as heat creeps up his neck again. He hadn't stayed long… Just long enough to say good night in her entryway. Her lips had been tart with rhubarb and ginger, and his blood had buzzed with just the slightest tinge of inebriation. Not nearly enough to take away any of his inhibitions, but enough to make everything a little blurred at the edges in the way that reminiscence distorts memories, and enough to skim his thumb by the freckle on her cheek more than once.

Her touch on his jaw and the taste had effected the consequences he'd anticipated they would, later that night, yanked unceremoniously from another dream of yearning and a resulting profligacy he's been trying not to overthink.

"Drinks? And where was this? Could it have been the infamous victory that heralds a drinking trip?" Kakashi is wondering aloud, looking very amused, words dripping with implication as his gaze flicks to Sasuke. Sasuke groans inwardly; he'd nearly forgotten he'd agreed to that.

"It sounds like it was a draw to me," Sai adds helpfully from Sasuke's right side, much to his appreciation. If there's one thing he's learning to like about Sai after being around him more, it's his preponderance in knocking Naruto down a peg consistently and efficiently.

Blue eyes narrow on Sai indignantly, past Sasuke, twitching slightly before huffing.

"Nah, Sakura-chan had some drinks when she got back; we waited outside her building. Spiced gin or something. It was good! Didn't really get anyone drunk, though." Naruto looks properly cheered as he takes another huge bite of his ramen. He swallows before continuing. "I will beat teme, though, and then we're going out drinking for sure! Believe it!"

"Hm. Gin, huh?" Kakashi's lone visible eye wanders to Sasuke.

He says nothing, just continues eating his food, but his old sensei gives him a look that teems with delight nonetheless, as if the simple action of having a drink with his team for fun is something to be proud of.

"He did not like lemon chu-hai," The voice on his right adds helpfully.

The Hokage's smile grows. "Well, it is a bit sweet for your tastes… For the most part, that is," he offers. It's said in a manner that heavily implies through tone alone that Sasuke does like things that are sweet, just not things that are food. Sasuke stares down the remaining vegetables and noodles in his bowl unwaveringly, and Kakashi must promptly realize he isn't going to say anything more, because he changes the subject to the rough timeline of the upcoming Chunin Exams in Sand.

Sasuke's been listening more than participating in the conversation for the better part of thirty minutes - his teammate's talk has migrated from the Chunin Exams to his latest team configuration involving Kiba and some stupid dirt he got on him from Hinata - when one of Kakashi's summons emerges from a puff of smoke next to Kakashi's feet.

It's Pakkun, the one he remembers as the unofficial leader of their old sensei's pack of dogs. The Hokage hat belonging to Kakashi lies clutched between the dog's teeth, and what appears to be the formal Hokage's robe is rolled and perched atop his back.

Pakkun doesn't say anything; he just looks upwards at Kakashi with an expression that is grim. Naruto's laughter dries up in all of two seconds, blue eyes hardening like steel as their old sensei sighs deeply.

"...My apologies, Sasuke, Sai… Duty calls. Let's go, Naruto." Kakashi places his money on the table before reaching to procure the formal attire. "Thank you, Pakkun."

"No problem, boss," the dog replies. "You want me to set some food out for Shiruba?"

"Yes, thank you. I won't be home for a while," Kakashi murmurs as he pulls the cloak around his shoulders before donning the hat that heralds his leadership.

Naruto's voice sounds far away as he places money for his food on the table in a manner completely uncharacteristic of him. "See ya, teme, Sai."

Sasuke watches them dart away, disquiet settling in his stomach before he shifts his vision to his own empty bowl, now situated next to Sakura's leftovers in a container Ayame brought out. He supposes they've been sitting here long enough anyways, so he begins to rise, withdrawing money from his pocket to set on the counter.

"You'll be seeing Ugly tomorrow, Traitor?" Sai asks as he also rises and procures a wallet from his pocket to pay.

They have plans for lunch at her apartment, and are likely to also spend the rest of the day together, so Sasuke nods once.

The stoic ninja's mouth twists into a small smile.

"Great. I will tell Ino."

Sasuke watches Sai turn heel and go curiously, frowning.

The crowd has dispersed a bit, so Sasuke begins the walk to his apartment, leftovers in hand and scroll tucked securely away. The eateries have their lanterns out, now, glowing transparent paper casting light upon the dirt. He tries to focus on the red text decorating their surfaces rather than thinking about what emergency surgery summons shortly followed by Hokage summons mean. He doesn't quite succeed.

Eventually the commercial area begins to thin out into slivers of residential buildings. He slows to a stop once he's beneath a familiar cherry blossom tree.

Carefully, he examines the leaves, the way they're shifting from lime green and chartreuse into colors more akin to that of pears, the serrated edges and the veins twisting outwards to reach the edges. His hand is occupied, so he can't touch it, but he can still observe it, examine it with clarity.

It's something he picked up while away; appreciating the minutiae of the world they inhabit, noticing minor details not often examined. Sometimes a leaf, other times a blade of grass, occasionally the iridescent shell of a freshwater mollusk found in the riverbed. It helps a bit, to set aside a bit of his worry, a calm acknowledgment of nature.

After careful study, he crosses the street to ascend the steps of his building. The iron steps create little sound as he takes light steps upwards, sight drifting skyward to the stars beginning to eke into the sky.

As he turns to proceed down the stretch of landing that is the second floor, he hears a door open. Curiously, he shifts his gaze ahead, and notes that the door to the apartment beside his is ajar.

A woman with dark hair who appears to be in her thirties stands in the doorframe, arm reached backwards to bar her child's way. The boy is young, barely looking old enough to walk unassisted, eyes drawn upwards to his mother curiously.

Immediately, he recognizes the subtle contortion of her face, and what it means.

Fear.

He only sees it for a fleeting flash before her eyes turn downcast, towards his feet as is custom for anyone who thinks they're about to face the Sharingan.

The woman is pushing the child back into the apartment and closing the door with a resounding click before the shame has fully laced its way into his gut. The twisting of a lock follows, and suddenly it's abundantly clear why Sasuke hasn't seen his neighbors in the month that he's been living here.

They're afraid of him.

He swallows, gaze sinking to the path of the landing before taking measured, predictable, and somewhat loud steps to his own apartment entrance, uncharacteristic of a ninja but necessary in this particular instance. He makes sure to jostle the key in the lock a little, loud enough to perhaps hear if one was waiting at the next door to leave once they believed it safe.

He makes a show of shutting the door in a manner that is audible, too, before twisting the lock shut. He then takes quiet steps to the fridge, sliding Sakura's leftovers on the top shelf and listening keenly to confirm what he already knows.

Sure enough, twenty seconds pass, and he hears his neighbor's door open and close, followed shortly by quick, scurrying footsteps, much faster than a toddler who just began walking could go; she must have picked up her son to speed their departure. He suspected they were civilians by the way they were dressed, but the steps confirmed it; if it was a fellow Shinobi, they would have taken greater care so that their footsteps went unheard, or perhaps would have departed via the window.

She must be smart. She hadn't held eye contact, had looked at his feet instead, meaning she knew exactly who he was, and was familiar with his ignominy.

Sasuke grits his teeth as tenebrose shame and colossal culpability rot his insides. He ventures to the window, trying to focus on the plexure of veins on leaves and how they feel in a lone remaining hand.

Distrust on missions from Konoha's allies are one thing, as are dirty looks in the market. This is different, though. This is making someone feel unsafe in their own home, a contrition that makes everything in him wither and feel numb simultaneously.

Ultimately he determines sleep may evade him for a while, so he hunkers down and rolls the scroll open atop his kitchen table under hard lighting, carefully analyzing before he begins to make careful notes. Single letters are identified first, searching for patterns and deducing As and Is. Apostrophes come next in the unraveling. It's not particularly complex, he comes to realize. The last one wasn't, either, and they probably came from the same source.

It's hours before his eyes start to droop. The sleep that follows isn't particularly restful, laden with malfeasance and self-loathing.

---

He's eager to leave his apartment the next morning, so he departs early for Sakura's, his sandals plunking steps on the landing of both his building and her own in a manner that's deliberately auricular.

When Sakura opens the door, Sasuke observes that she looks extraordinarily tired. There are dark circles under her eyes as if she hasn't slept much. She's wearing a work outfit, different from yesterday's, despite it being her day off; he wonders if she went to the hospital this morning.

Her lips curve upwards still, though.

"Morning, Sasuke-kun," she says quietly, voice trailing a little and fine pink brows furrowing as she looks at the takeout container in his hand with confusion.

"...Morning," he responds, before adding, "Your leftovers."

She blinks slowly once, then twice, before it must compute, a slow realization that proves she really must be tired. "Oh." She blinks once more before her gaze drifts up to his, and her smile widens, color inking into existence on her cheeks. "You didn't have to do that. Thank you."

He wants to say that it's the least he could do, but her fingers touch his for a brief moment as she reaches for the container, and she's casting another disarming and distracting smile his way before turning to go inside, so he follows, slipping off his shoes.

He tries to ignore the staggering sense of relief that sinks in, now that he's away from his own apartment and within the walls of her living space instead.

"How was the rest of dinner last night?" She asks conversationally, hanging in the threshold to the rest of her living space.

"...Fine," He answers, thinking of the fair amount of teasing he endured as he follows her to her kitchen. Her windows are all sitting open. He supposes it is pretty nice out today.

He wants to ask her what happened with the hospital summons, but decides against it as he studies her posture, noting that it's marginally more slouched than usual as she slides the takeout into the fridge.

"...Kakashi's cat is named Shiruba?" He goes with instead as she pulls out a half carton of eggs, apparently to survey its contents.

Sakura grins. "Yeah." She sets the eggs on the counter before also grabbing some edamame, enclosed in a clear container. "She's a pretty cat. A really pale gray." There's softness in her eyes as she turns to him. "She kind of matches his hair, actually. It's funny."

Something tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"...Original name, then."

She chuckles, and he revels in it, in being the cause of it. "Yeah, I suppose. I'm guessing I'll be feeding her this summer, when Kakashi-sensei's away at the Chunin Exams. I'll take you by to meet her sometime, if you haven't seen her before that. She's friendly."

Sasuke nods slowly. Sakura looks at him for an extended second before speaking.

"I think these eggs need to be used soon. Would broccoli and soba noodle salad be okay? I've got some in the pantry, and cherry tomatoes. The edamame could go in it, too, and I've got an avocado somewhere here that needs to be eaten."

He inclines his head again.

Sasuke sets to work mixing together soy sauce, peanut oil, wasabi, and mirin for the sauce. As Sakura brings a saucepan to boil for the eggs, and another for the produce, she mentions conversationally, "I need to swing by the hospital later to check on a patient."

Inwardly he's a little confused, recalling hospital crises and a Hokage's duty. Maybe the summons for Kakashi were unrelated, and the time frames simply coincided at random. If anyone could fix a blow to the gut laced with acid, he supposes it would be Sakura.

"...When?"

She unscrews the lid off of the canned broccoli. "Maybe six? After dinner. We could make pork; I set some in the fridge to defrost."

Green eyes flick to him in question, and he nods. He supposes he could put in another few hours this evening working on the scroll, then. He'd gotten far enough that he was ready to start looking for double letter repetitions.

"It won't take very long. Maybe half an hour. Was there something you wanted to do, later this evening?"

Gratification, or maybe satisfaction, unfurls in his gut.

"...I didn't have anything planned."

When he turns away from the counter to procure the specialized cutting board from the cupboard, she's smiling up at him.

"Well, we could maybe play some chess when I get back. Or go for a walk. It's pretty nice out today."

He tears his eye away from her mouth with Herculean effort.

"...Okay." He begins slicing the avocado with a knife taken from the knife block, gaze locked on the texture of its skin for distraction from what's unfurling in his belly right now. Cherry tomatoes come next, sliced in measured halves for easy consumption.

They eat, watching the thoroughfare from her open window, people scattered in the streets below. The streets are busier during the lunch rush. Sasuke is happy to be up here, secluded in her apartment, rather than down there. The jasmine plant sways slightly in the breeze above them as he appreciates the taste of a particularly juicy cherry tomato in one of his bites; not too sweet.

She still seems kind of tired, taking slow bites of what they've made, but he thinks there's also happiness in her eyes, when he meets them. Oblivion, but less chartreuse and more true jade with a hint of juniper green. Her expression reminds him a lot of when they were Genin, when he would relieve her of guard duty just as she looked to be about to fall asleep, drowsy but persistently and completely transparent in unguarded affection.

Nearly the entire meal passes in a comfortable silence, the only audio faded sounds of passersby, drifting upwards in small increments to form an unsteady tempo that's pleasant enough from a distance.

"What would you like to watch?" She asks from her end of the couch, after, folding her legs into more of a reclining position.

"You pick," he murmurs, maintaining eye contact for an extended moment.

Unsolved mysteries soon encapsulate the screen, an ambiguous narrator's voice reaching into her living space to interlace facts and clues into the open air. This one involves the disappearance of a rather famous sword in the Land of Lightning; it catches his attention more than he initially thought it would, though he generally has been enjoying watching this sort of thing with Sakura.

Sasuke is unsurprised when he glances to her end of the couch towards the end of the program and sees that she's dozed off.

Sakura is beautiful even when she sleeps, clearly exhausted. She's curled up, one arm laid across her stomach and the other curved around the side of her face. Another unsolved mystery program begins - it must be a marathon - as he studies her, but he's barely listening, drawn by her cynosure. Her fingers twitch every now and then, pointer finger and thumb curling slightly before relaxing. Her head lolls to the side, resting partially on the edge of the couch and partially on her left shoulder.

Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, either due to the way her head's shifted to the side or a continuance of a nervous habit. Maybe it's stress. Whatever it is, he doesn't look away for the duration of several minutes of study, mentally cataloging the way she looks. Occasionally she would mumble things in her sleep when they were younger on missions, huddled up in a tent or under tree cover, nonsensical phrasing that didn't make sense when spoken aloud but must have been related to the occasional odd dream. She doesn't now, though; maybe it's not a deep enough sleep for that, yet.

She doesn't look cold or anything - the windows are still open to let in fresh air, and it's near the perfect temperature - but he does briefly consider looking for a blanket to try to lay over her. He decides against it, not wanting to venture into her room without permission.

Eventually he tunes back into the unsolved mystery, the better part of ten minutes of background information completely missed, though he admires her from the corner of his eye occasionally. An hour passes, then two, the echoed afternoon din of civilization lilting through the windows to steep in mystery. He appreciates being in her company and the privilege of being in her apartment, even when she's asleep.

She's still dozing just before five, chest rising and falling slowly with breaths that indicate a deeper slumber, so he rises, careful not to jostle the couch too much so he doesn't wake her. He finds the pork defrosted in the refrigerator, and there's also an onion, so he quietly begins to prepare shogayaki, trying not to feel like he's doing something he shouldn't be, alone in her kitchen preparing a meal by himself with her cutlery and her food.

He separates the connecting tissue of the meat deftly on the specialized cutting board before setting it to soak in a small bowl, intermixed with cooking sake and ginger juice to tenderize. He mixes the actual sauce as it soaks, grating ginger and intermixing it with the other ingredients before heating up a minuscule amount of oil separately in a saucepan. It's not long before the pork slices are sizzling slowly. Broccoli and cherry tomatoes were left over in the preserving jars from lunch, placed on the top shelf in her fridge, so he empties both containers out to begin the process of steaming them together. While he's rinsing both of them clean in her sink - he assumes she'll reuse them for something - he carefully analyzes the handwriting atop the labels of both metal lids.

It reads only the dates of last September and October, meaning they were canned fairly recently. It doesn't really look like her handwriting, though the way the characters curve does seem feminine. He casts a glance towards the pantry, wondering if Sakura is the type to purchase canned goods in bulk from a farmer's market.

He casts aside both his curiosity and the now clean cans, because the mix of broccoli and tomatoes are done and it's time to maneuver a serving onto each plate.

He glances at the clock as he flips pork slices, considering, before opening her tea cupboard. There's a new box of tea that hadn't been there before, on the decaffeinated shelf: lemon lavender, annexed in sideways so that it will fit. Sasuke grabs the package, examining it for a short minute to try to determine if it's the sort of thing she would like the coconut creamer for or not.

He heats up water in the kettle as the pork finishes, maneuvering the meat onto the plates before setting the pan aside. He's careful to remove the vessel before it begins to whistle, drizzling steaming water atop a teabag placed squarely in a cup.

It stews for a scattering of minutes as he begins to move their meals and silverware to her dining table, keeping his footsteps feather light. He notes with a little nostalgic amusement that she's mumbling now, eyes still closed, apparently in a deep enough sleep now to dream. He thinks he catches a few words on the next trip about administering something called heparin, though he doesn't know what it is; he assumes it must be a medicine.

He's noticed she takes most of her tea with at least two scoops of sugar, so he adds two and stirs, watching it dissolve. He decides against the creamer because it doesn't seem like it would go with this kind that well, but he does stir a smidgen of honey into the teacup, recalling their first trip to the tea shop, before taking that to the table, too. Lastly, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge for himself.

Sasuke hovers over Sakura, admiring her for a long moment before he gently nudges her shoulder, careful to keep his touch feather light as she mumbles something different now about a vein. He notices with some amusement that her right hand is twitching into position similar to the way it would to hold a syringe or tool.

"Sakura."

Fine pink brows furrow as she moves slightly; apparently she's a lighter sleeper now than when they were younger. It only takes seconds for strawberry blonde lashes to flutter open.

"...Sasuke-kun?"

Her brows knit closer together as if in confusion; she blinks several times, pupils dilating as they focus on him.

"It's five twenty," he murmurs.

"Oh." Her expression shifts into something similar to meekness.

Then, "Oh," again, and she's shifting position in the way most people do as they wake up. "I fell asleep. I'm sorry."

Sasuke nods once in the affirmative before the apology registers, distracted by the soft green of her eyes and how they're reflecting the color of her couch and the puzzle of what sort of genetic amalgamations must be possible for a person to have eyelashes the color hers are. When she moves, it puts her more in the sliver of the window's light reaching past him, and they lighten in the sun to more of a golden hue. "It's fine," he mentions, before adding, "I made dinner."

A faint hint of surprise etches its way onto her features for a second, color seeping into her cheeks. "You…" She blinks as if to nudge away whatever she was dreaming about. "You did?"

The corner of his mouth twitches upwards in amusement, heart turning over a little in his chest.

"...I did." He moves so he's not hovering over her anymore. "Shagoyaki."

Sakura rises, shifting slightly to stretch as she does so. He makes a valiant effort at ignoring the alluring arch of her back and the way it makes the blood in his veins run hot. Then she's directing a breathtaking smile at him.

"Thank you," she offers, jade aglow with the light from her window.

The way she says it makes his neck burn.

"...You're welcome." He turns to close the short distance between where he's standing and her dining table, soft footsteps following behind him.

She pauses once she sees the tea.

He flicks his gaze to her in question, then away, because she's beaming at him.

"...Lavender lemon. Sugar and honey," he mumbles as he stares out the window. "I didn't know if you'd want the creamer or not."

He hears her move, and initially thinks it's the sound of her taking her seat, but then he's feeling soft lips pressed to his cheek.

It's barely anything, a chaste peck more than a kiss, but it's still incredibly affectionate, and it makes his face blaze, his skin greedily cataloging her warmth into the archives of his neurons as his heart thumps pathetically fast beneath his sternum.

"Thank you, Sasuke-kun," she says softly, as she finally takes her seat across from him. He sees her lift the cup to her lips from the corner of his eye to take a sip.

"It's perfect," she surmises, glowing at him. He looks at his food to distract himself, trying to force the warmth from his face, because he knows it has to be visible here, in direct sunlight. He picks up his chopsticks, determined to take a bite and start chewing, because otherwise he's going to continue to be gripped by the urge to press his fingers over where her lips brushed his cheek.

Consequences is the only word he can think of in his morosis. He tries to smother the thought.

Another minute of him feeling discountenanced passes before Sakura asks how the first program ended. He latches onto the conversation easily as a mode of distraction, detailing the exchange of hands the sword is suspected to have gone through, its current whereabouts as yet unknown.

It helps a little.

Pretty soon it's fifteen minutes until six. He notes she clears her entire plate, as well as drains her cup of tea. She must have liked it.

"This was really good, Sasuke-kun. I've never tried cherry tomatoes steamed before; I like them. Thank you," she murmurs as if reading his thoughts. Something turns over in his gut that feels a lot like belonging.
"...You're welcome," he offers in return, rising along with her and trying to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach, collecting his own empty plate as she rises, too.

"I should probably get going," Sakura mentions as they make their way to the kitchen. She reaches for his plate and utensils once she's got the water running, rinsing them quickly before plugging the sink and adding soap to create soapy water for them to soak in for a bit. As it runs, she glances back at him. "I'll be back a little after six thirty."

It must not be terribly serious, whatever or whoever she's checking on; half an hour isn't much. It's not enough time to work on the scroll, really, but maybe he'll walk to the memorial stone to water the soil and then just come back.

"Help yourself to anything in the fridge," Sakura is saying unambiguously, snapping him out of his internal thought process. "Or tea, if you'd like some. Or your snacks. They're in…" Her voice trails off, and color sinks into her cheeks as if she's embarrassed as she rotates the dial that turns the water off. "Well, they're in the drawer."

He blinks slowly, looking at her and processing what she's just said, a swirling novitious and of the profound emanating from behind his ribs.

She says it as if it's no big deal, for him to be in her home in her absence, but to him it is. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of it, the pleasing feeling that comes with her trust in him.

"...Okay," he responds eventually, managing to keep his tone level. She moves to the entryway, so he follows, trailing behind her and watching her pull on her sandals. He leans against the doorframe of the entryway into her living space, enjoying the feeling of being trusted, grounded, back against something solid.

"Want to go for a walk, later?" Sakura asks, smiling up at him as she rises back to her full height.

Sasuke nods assent, heart still doing peculiar things in his chest.

"Okay," Sakura says softly before taking a step towards him. He blinks in surprise.

She takes his hand in both of hers, and he forgets to breathe.

Soft fingertips run over his own, an inferno against his skin outlined in the grooves of her prints. "I'll see you in a bit, then," she murmurs, a thumb smoothing by his knuckle as green eyes study him with kindness unmuted. "Thank you for dinner. And tea. It was really good."

He nods dumbly, and she strokes her thumb across his palm for a second. It takes him a moment to return the gesture. The skin of her hand is smooth, and they're small, yet both of them manage to encapsulate his own.

She smiles at him in a way that's beguiling before she lets her digits drop away from his, grabbing her tote and giving him one last lingering glance before she turns to head out the door. She doesn't lock it behind her.

He looks at his palm, afterward, reflecting on the other times she's held his hand: the Forest of Death during the Chunin Exams, and more recently, a spring night spent stargazing.

Following several minutes of standing there like a fool, he finally saunters from the entryway and his reverie back into the main spread of her space. His gaze glides along the pictures again, and he stops in front of the first one.

He proceeds to study her hands in every picture. Clasped at her sides. Pointer fingers raised in victory with Ino. Calling up to their idiot teammate. He studies the one of Sakura and Ino at the festival the longest, where her hand lies empty at her side atop a mint green kimono, trying to memorize her expression and considering about what it may be like, to hold her hand more often, feel her fingers intertwine with his, to allow her to increase the number of fingerprints she's already left on his heart.

Eventually he manages to tear himself away, eyes shifting to her bookshelves in curiosity.

He supposes now is as opportune a time as any to peruse the titles.

He doesn't open any of them, though he doesn't think she would mind, if he did. He feels that's something he should ask about, first; maybe when they go to the library tomorrow and the conversation is on books, he'll ask her for a recommendation of one of her favorites. He deduces that one towering shelf holds fiction while the other organizes non-fiction. They are then sorted by genre or topic, much like the library is, which makes sense; very Sakura.

The titles seem fitting for her, exactly the sort of thing she would like. The top shelf features what must be political fiction, with titles like The Other Side of Corruption, Under Orders, and A Question of Values. It's the smallest section, which he thinks is apt, if it's on the top shelf where it would be the hardest for her to reach. The second shelf from the top houses books that appear to fall under the romance genre: Fern, Going Gray, One Year of Prologue, Jewels Among Us, A Treasury of the Thaumaturgic. He's not sure what the word thaumaturgic means, but it sounds like a word Sakura would know.

The next two shelves house mysteries, bound in dark desaturated covers of plum and pomegranate. Dangerous Mystic, Purpose Driven, You've Been Warned, on and on. She must like them more than he anticipated. There are others intermixed on the following shelf, historical and speculative fiction and other miscellaneous titles that don't fit well with any of the other genres.

The bottom two shelves of the fiction rack house an extensive collection of poetry books. It's more full than any of the others; some of the books don't fit in normally, and instead lie stacked atop the regular rows in the empty space between their tops and the shelves above them. Their spines read things like Orchid Blooms and Strangers and The Chemistry of Vice, inked in contrasting colors that likely indicate their contents. Some are the colors of candy, some of pears, peaches, and berries. A few are more akin to the colors of slate or honey.

He tries to determine by looking them over, which ones she's read the most; given their placement on the shelf, they would be easy to access, so he assumes she must come back to them with a degree of regularity, or at least moreso than what's on the top shelf. None of them appear particularly more well-worn than the others, though. It's possible she just takes better care of her books than the average person to keep them in good condition; also very Sakura.

Sasuke apprizes the nonfiction section afterwards, well-stocked with writings on ninjutsu, genjutsu, medical jutsu, as well as general educational materials on the inner workings of the human body. Many of the larger tomes are academic texts, much thicker volumes than what they ever read at the Academy; some seem like they would be generally instructive, while others remind him of the research journals he's seen her check out from the library, but they're thicker, as if amassing multiple journals into one larger book. There is also one shelf that appears to be dedicated entirely to poisons.

He scans them as minutes tick by, trying to come to terms with the fact that she's probably read most if not all of these in their entirety.

Eventually Sasuke makes his way to the kitchen, realizing that a half hour has come and gone already, intent on doing the rest of the dishes before she returns. He studies the small pots in her kitchen window as he does so, the herb garden teeming with sage, cilantro, and parsley. She's clipped increments off, occasionally, to put in their food. He can only see a sliver of the street below here at an angle, given it's directly facing the neighboring building, but it's started to clear out.

He's just finished up the last pan when he hears the door open. He realizes then that it's been an awfully long time since he's been in a home that he's expecting another to return to. It's a feeling he's going to cherish, rousing something in his heart that few people have ever touched, irrepressible in its intensity.

"I'm back," Sakura calls as the door creaks shut. He hears the sound of her hanging up her bag and removing her sandals.

"...In the kitchen," he says, yanking himself out of his realizations, pulling the plug from the drain and thinking that he should have spent less of her absence examining her books; he doesn't have enough time to dry them, it seems.

He turns slightly as he hears her footsteps, and then she's around the corner.

She looks at him, assessing, before she smiles softly, appreciatively at him.

"You didn't have to do those."

"...I know."

Her lips curve upwards further. "Well, I suppose I'd better help dry them," she offers with amusement, coming up beside him and pulling out two towels from her drawer. Sasuke notes as she gets closer that she seems a little more awake now.

As they begin to put the dried dishes away, he asks quietly, "How is your patient?"

She pauses in opening a far cupboard to look at him with slight surprise. Then she's returning the saucepan to its brethren.

"She's fine. Still stable, though she's pretty out of it. They'd summon me if she wasn't, but… I like to check in anyways."

He imagines most people would be fairly out of it, if a weapon laced with an acid hit them in the gut. He nods before he moves to put the teacups back in their cupboard, thinking.

"I…"

Sasuke looks back to her, and is curious as to why her brow furrows as she lifts the spatula.

Her bottom lip moves slightly before she exhales slowly.

"...The summon yesterday wasn't for her. Or… Well, what Katsuyu was saying, I mean. It was… salvaging what we could from a casualty." She closes the drawer before continuing. "I ended up doing two transplant surgeries. One isn't actually my own patient, but the other is. That's who I was checking on. Kazumi managed a third one; she was on duty."

He carefully dips his chin in acknowledgment, moving to put away plates as his stomach sinks. He recalls both Kakashi and Naruto's complete change in demeanor at dinner, and a Hokage's duty to inform families of Shinobi casualties, and the kind of toll it will take on someone as full of life as his best friend is, over the course of their futures.

The Third had come to him in his residence many years ago, to do said duty. Which was rich, once he'd learned the truth years later, and also because Hiruzen Sarutobi had broken the news in a manner that was far too gentle, given he'd witnessed all of it already, given there were still chalk outlines on the floor and small pools of blood sinking into the cracks in the next room that he'd begun to scrub away himself. He'd wished at the time that he'd learned more about cleaning from his mother, that he had paid more attention to her methods of keeping house, because he struggled to get the stains out, to scrub with enough vigor to lift away the red from the dark wood.

He can distinctly recall the agony of it even now, the official confirmation that he was - is - the last of his line. It claws at his insides on his worst days, seeking escape through the layers of sediment, in those nightmares, the resonance of the Hokage's voice into his dwelling and how it echoed down the hallways of his mind for weeks - years - after, any sense of trust slaughtered.

As awful as it is, any unnecessary life lost, at least something good came from this one; three lives saved, from the sounds of it. The bodies had all been cold and useless when the massacre happened, discovered hours postliminary. Decidedly zero miracles came from them, which is a shame in retrospect, because all Shinobi are mandated organ donors.

He wonders how old Sakura's patient is, what kind of person they are. He vaguely recalls her mentioning a transplant patient at their first Team Seven dinner when he returned; perhaps it's the same one.

His gaze lingers curiously on Sakura as he turns, pondering just how many transplants she's superintended, how many occasions she's moved organs around to gift life to another. She's just sliding more utensils back into their respective locations, unequivocally domiciliary, as if it's any other day, as if she doesn't perform miracles with her hands regularly, in more ways than one.

"...Are you okay?" He asks tacitly, because he knows Sakura has to be anything but detached from this sort of thing, the implications of having to make the call of who lives at the expense of someone else.

She considers him over her shoulder, a convolution of compunctions, yet there's sureness in herself, too, or perhaps sureness in her staff.

"I'm fine." Her eyes shift to looking out the window. "It was over before I got there. Kazumi made the call, and it was the right one. There was nothing to be done, other than matching donors while… retrieving what could be used. There was a lot of damage to the liver that I worked on first, beforehand, to try to make it functional. It's a delicate process."

She succeeds at sounding aloof, though Sasuke knows she is not. He imagines that would grate on anyone, palms in someone's chest cavity to heal organs but being unable to save the donor themselves; the duality of it, the conflict of mourning for life lost paired with the possibility of manumission to another.

"...Do you need to rest?" His brow furrows as the words hang in the air for a long second, because a single transplant must take hours, let alone two of the procedures. She likely got almost no sleep at all. She should have just told him she needed to rest today.

Her focus shifts to him before she smiles.

"No. I'm good for a bit, yet. I'd…" She pauses before adding, pupils flicking back to him. "I'd like to go for that walk, still, if you're up for it."

They walk to the top of Hokage Rock as the sun begins to set, meandering past the cherry blossom tree on the hill, and then beyond the First, Second, and Third. Eventually they take seats on top of the sculpting of Naruto's father. Lights slowly flicker on across the village in its expanse before them, and soon the night sky shifts to darkness, echoing the light below it with its own stars, though it's more faded with the light pollution spread before them.

They don't really talk; it's more a conversation of silences and stalled time, consoling in mutual companionship and shared with only the moon.

Sasuke inwardly evaluates all of the Kages, past, present, and future; their strengths and weaknesses, their successes and failures. He gets the inkling that Sakura is thinking of the same thing; her head tilts to their left more than once, where the faces of her mentor and their sensei emerge from the rock, and also farther, to where Naruto's face will someday be carved. There's something of the neoteric in the air, held by luciformities catching jagged rock.

Sasuke reflects on the fact that no matter what sorts of conflicts arise in their lifetime, Naruto will never be the type of Hokage who would be capable of accepting a solution like the one that the Third had. Neither would Kakashi.

Eventually the lights of the buildings before them begin winking out of existence. Night has arrived, and with it an umbratical blackberry sky and crickets, a reliable epode of the steadfast, long chirps followed by pauses that are just the right tempo to be analeptic. The words unsaid have weight, but they're not necessarily unbearably heavy, in another's presence, surrounded by the wonted and the yield of a late spring redolence.

When Sakura tentatively reaches for his hand, he intertwines their fingers together as familiarly as if he's been doing it his whole life.

---

After he walks Sakura home, he goes to the memorial stone and sits there for a spell, staring at the soil he's watered and yearning for oblivescence, trying to let go of that house, those floors, all of the times back then in which he had wished for his bed to be a casket.

It doesn't work. It never does, and besides, the Uchiha always burned their dead. He knows, because he'd watched it himself, the funeral pyre alight and blazing, flames licking high into the winter air as if in search of sustenance, starving even while glutted by all he had ever known. Sasuke had been fixated on his own footsteps in the snow on the way home, cold and small and leaving tracks all alone.

It's not enough.

Maybe he needs to do more. He wonders what his mother used to cultivate the lilies in their backyard. He wishes he could ask her.

Sasuke stares at where the bulbs are buried, heartsick and aching and wishing he was a better man, wondering what his neighbor must do, behind their door. Do they fear him like he feared the Third Hokage, what his teeth-gnawing presence in the threshold meant?

---

He knocks on the dobe's front door early the next morning, a half hour after seven, a mentho-lyptus cough drop almost finished dissolving in his mouth. Sakura mentioned yesterday when they said good night that she'd be walking with Ino and Hinata before she and Ino did their usual training today, since she hadn't had a chance to walk with them on Sunday, so Sasuke shouldn't be interrupting anything.

"Ne, Hinata-chan, y're back already? I told you, go. I'm fine, you don't need to worry, and-'' A familiar voice lilts sleepily just behind the front door.

Why would she knock when she lives here, idiot?

The door opens to reveal the dobe clad in pajamas, blinking away sleep. "Eh?" is all Naruto says as he picks at eyes that are red and puffy, still in the process of waking up.

"Let's spar," Sasuke suggests simply. The dobe just looks at him as if he's confused, so he adds, "...If you think you're up for it."

"EH?!" Naruto repeats, tired features contorting into a scowl. "Of course I'm up for it! I'll kick your ass for that, teme!" He pauses, blinking beneath furrowed brows, before adding, "Just gimme a sec to write a note for Hinata-chan and change!"

Sasuke doesn't take the bait; he just nods before taking a step away from the front door to wait, eyeing the headache of highly saturated colors that cluster around the foot of his friend's home and the way they twist upwards out of the soil. Even more flowers have bloomed now, burgeoning in to overtake green; they must be taking good care of them, he surmises somewhat despondently.

It takes only a few minutes before Naruto returns, pulling his prosthetic arm through a different shirt as he closes the door behind himself.

"Yeah! Let's fucking do this, teme!" He parrots loudly enough to wake the entire neighborhood, before bounding off in the direction of the training grounds. Sasuke rolls his eyes, following at a leisurely pace behind his friend and wondering to himself if the dobe buying a house in this area has made the retail value of the surrounding neighborhood plummet due to volume concerns.

They spar for the better part of a couple of hours as the sun ascends, a disarray of clones and acrobatics. Naruto is a little slower than usual; whether it's from lack of sleep or distraction, Sasuke can't say, but he uses it as an opportunity to test new sword forms he's picked up from his readings, swinging his blade into action straight from stowing. The unfamiliarity evens out the imbalance a bit, though he doesn't let up enough to flat out let Naruto win, by any means; just enough to cut him some slack.

They finish around ten, an enjoyable barrage of spring zephyr blowing into the village to herald the rising of a new day. It's another draw; his sword extends outwards without quite reaching his best friend as a kunai halts inches from his own neck, held by a clone behind him. Sasuke supposes he could have won, had he committed to fully trying, but today wasn't about that.

They trade out their weapons for bottles of water and rest atop loam. Sasuke takes three or four gulps before he decides to speak, vision zeroed in on the empty space of the mountain where the horizon meets the open air. He waits for a lull in the breeze, so the wind won't carry his words away, so there's no bearing repeating.

"...You'll be a good Hokage."

There is a long moment of silence in which Sasuke wonders if he perhaps spoke too quietly, or if it was too laconic. He's not the best at this sort of thing, he knows, but it's worth the discomfort of trying, after the lengths his best friend and Sakura went to to get him back here.

Eventually Naruto speaks up.

"...Thanks, teme." It's uttered in a low voice, in a manner that's completely atypical of his best friend. When he turns, he sees Naruto's line of sight is trained on the horizon, too, in near the exact direction he'd been looking.

Sasuke doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't think he has to.

They start the walk back to Naruto's house, pretty well coated in sweat. Soon a sea of cobalt, marigold, and fuchsia come within their line of sight, swaying in the breeze. Hinata's out front, gardening apron tied around her waist and pouring water from a watering can that's decorated with small illustrations of toads. She stands up when she sees them, smiling as they get closer.

Naruto bounds the rest of the way to his wife, and Sasuke is struck with the realization that this Hinata carries herself very differently than the one he remembers, that she stands with a bit more confidence than before. He had hardly seen her, when he'd been back following the war, and hadn't really spoken to her directly at all in that period. Being around the idiot all the time probably would instill a bit more confidence in her. He recalls Sakura mentioning that the two have been good for each other, that they balance each other out well. In an instant, he can see the truth in that statement. She doesn't flush or stammer at the mere sight of Naruto anymore, it seems.

"Hinata-chan! Teme and I went to spar!"

Sasuke's left eye twitches; the dobe really does have the memory of a goldfish.

Hinata Uzumaki smiles at her husband in a manner that is both doting and patient as he takes her free hand in his excitedly, much more open with her affection than Sasuke recalls her being from their younger years.

"I know. I read your note," she says quietly, fondly as she pulls the piece of paper from her pocket, scrawled in Naruto's messy, comically large handwriting. Sasuke can barely make out the words.

Sparring with Sasuke. Back later. Love, Naruto!

Sasuke spends a brief moment contemplating whether he sends out official correspondence littered with unnecessarily enthusiastic exclamation points, too, as the dobe laughs. "Er- Oh, yeah, right, right! Forgot about that!"

Hinata looks at Naruto with clear warmth before focus shifts to Sasuke.

"Hello, Sasuke," she greets, offering a tentative smile.

That is much more confident than he can recall her being. Not that he'd ever spoken to her much in general, because he hadn't, but he clearly remembers that she used to stumble over her words a lot more around most people, let alone people she didn't know well.

Sasuke nods in recognition. Pale eyes drift back to the dobe.

"Ne, Hinata-chan, thanks for watering the flowers! I told you I'd do it today, though."

"I don't mind," she says, smiling. "Are you hungry? I started lunch."

As if on cue, the dobe's stomach growls loudly. Sasuke resists yet another urge to roll his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, I sure am! Is it-"

"Ramen, yes," Hinata Uzumaki finishes her husband's sentence for him, laughing softly.

Naruto lets out a whoop that makes the people up the street to turn their heads for the source of the offending noise before lifting up his wife with both hands, beginning to spin her in circles, and suddenly she's the Hinata Sasuke remembers; flushed beet red at any and all of Naruto's antics.

"Yaaay, Hinata-chan! You're the BEST!"

It's a rather open display of affection, announced in a booming voice that makes Sasuke feel a bit like he's intruding. He averts his gaze away, studying the less bright yards of their neighbors to try to give them some semblance of privacy, though Naruto clearly isn't bothered at all by proclaiming to the world that he loves his wife.

He puts her down after several more twirls - Sasuke can see the spinning out of the corner of his eye, still - and lets loose another exuberant cheer before he shifts slightly to look back at him.

"Hey, teme! You should eat with us if you have time! If you don't have plans with Sakura-chan, that is!" The dobe winks at him knowingly as Sasuke frowns. "I'd bet money that you do have plans with Sakura-chan, though!"

"Tch." Sasuke looks away, maintaining an annoyed expression without answering as Naruto annoyingly laughs. He's not meeting her for lunch today since it's Monday, but they are taking another trip to the library, and he'll need to eat after a quick shower. He doesn't really want to intrude on a married couple's lunch, truth be told, albeit it being nice of him to offer.

Or it would be nice, if it wasn't also an invitation for the idiot to tease him about Sakura at every available opportunity.

"Yep, yep, that's what I thought! I knew you'd-" Naruto begins, but is then cut off by another thunderous rumbling of his stomach. Sasuke thinks drolly that, much like his idiot teammate's voice, it's also loud enough to be heard by people hundreds of yards away.

"You know what, teme? I'm too hungry right now to tease you about Sakura-chan, so I'll save it for later!" Naruto's pulling Hinata by her free hand up the stairs, watering can and note still in tow when Sasuke shoots him a withering look. The dobe pauses on the step, and Hinata takes the opportunity to carefully disentangle their digits so she can set the watering can down on the side of the path.

"I WILL kick your ass one of these days, though. And then you're gonna come drinking with us! Believe it!"

And with that, Naruto's proceeding into his house. Mission accomplished, Sasuke muses dryly, annoyed with the raillery but deciding if it's a byproduct of bolstering his friend, he'll put up with it just this once.

Hinata watches her husband, smiling good-naturedly as she holds the door open, seeming very used to Naruto's one-track mind.

She then surprises him by turning to look at him over her shoulder, mouthing words without speaking.

Thank you.

Sasuke gives her a lingering look before nodding and turning towards his apartment, intent on a shower and feeling like he's perhaps done something good.

The feeling is short-lived, evaporating abruptly on the upper landing of his apartment as he recalls his neighbor and her child. His footsteps plunk out an audible and solidly predictable rhythm before he reaches his door. It feels as if there's a manacle around each ankle, that he's doomed to simply drag his past around behind him everywhere he goes, tethered to it in perpetuity and laying waste to any ground he manages to lay. How his bones haven't cracked outright under the weight of it yet is beyond him; he's always had shit ankles.

He sets up the drying rack inside the small laundry closet before moving the freshly washed comforter from the washing machine to air dry. He then strips off his sweaty clothing. He'll start another load later, he decides, once he's showered.

He proceeds through his bedroom into the bathroom, where his reflection momentarily captures his attention. He peers at his lone visible eye in the mirror, trying to discern how he could go about looking less malevolent, less like a threat. His eyes may be an asset in battle, but he thinks they're a hindrance in possibly every other aspect; the reputation of the Sharingan, coupled with his deplorable history, precede him far and wide. It makes sense that there are people here in the village who refuse to look at him directly, for the betterment of their own safety.

It's not that he can't handle being hated. He can, if it's people he doesn't know well; he doesn't need much. What he can't handle is the resounding truth that he is making someone afraid to inhabit their own residence. It's a feeling he became well-acquainted with long ago, trapped in that room. He'd scrubbed blisters into his fingers, struggling to obliterate the evidence, but no matter how hard he'd tried, he could still see the outline, panic and foreboding seared into his encephalon on a cellular level with nowhere else to go.

Eventually he unwraps another cough drop before he proceeds to the shower, scrubbing himself scaldingly clean. He has Sakura to meet, after all. That's what he should focus on.

---

He's looking at her spread of potted plants with something like longing when she opens the door to his knock.

"Hey, Sasuke-kun," Sakura says softly, smiling widely at him as she steps outside and shuts the door behind her.

Despondent thoughts fall to the wayside. "Sakura," he murmurs in greeting, eyeing her countenance and thinking in silent approval that she looks more well-rested today, more like herself. She twists the key to lock the door behind her as he shifts his focus to the books in her arms.

Once she's jimmied the key back out of the lock, she stows it in her pocket before peeking up at him. Her expression is shy for some reason, so the offer to take her books lingers in his throat.

"You know…" She bites her lip slightly, jade irises flicking away to study the moth orchid that frames her doorstep. "...You don't need to knock. You can just come in, if you want. If I'm home, it's not locked, most of the time." A rosy blush is sinking into the apples of her cheeks, and her free hand twitches marginally at her side, as if with nerves.

He must be quiet for too long, too distracted by the utter eudemonia threading its way in between his ribs, because she adds, in a more hesitant voice, "If… Just… If you want, I mean."

Words are escaping him at this moment, or perhaps are tangled in knots in his throat, so he nods in what he hopes is a very apparent affirmative. She must register the movement from the corner of her vision, because green eyes flick hesitantly up to his.

Her visage softens - there's the imprint of something less like nervousness, more like understanding - and her lips curve upwards, diamond outlines splayed across her left cheek from the glass refraction of the bay window. Dimple, freckle, affectionate expression; he greedily soaks in all of it.

He wishes that he still had his other hand, so that he could do something. He craves it, the opportunity to be more open with his affection for her.

There is a brief trice of clarity, followed by indecision that he shoves forcefully away.

Corrosion, he thinks, deliberating.

No one's around, he reasons.

It compels him forward, and fine pink brows lift in unmitigated surprise as he leans down and carefully presses his lips to hers.

She must have just had a cup of her newest flavor of tea, because there is a fleeting taste of lemon and lavender and honey and sugar and fervor requited, against his lips. It only takes a fraction of a second, for her to respond, for consolidation of Sakura's mouth against his own.

It goes on and on and on.

Early afternoon light, precious and notably lengthy, fills him. It's all he needs.

Her face is redder than the cherry tomatoes canned in her pantry when they finally part to breathe, jade eyes locked on him as if in awe. His own face feels resoundingly warm, blood ringing in his ears.

He holds out his arm for her books, his own in hand still, eager for a distraction from this threshold they stand atop of, a small sea of freshly watered plants with shifted soils.

Sakura hands them over before they turn to depart, her leading the way to the stairs. She casts a glance back at him shyly before she takes the first step, smiling in a way that ignites. He tries to ignore the way it makes his heart skip.

They make it halfway to the library before she speaks up.

"How were your books?"

"...Fine."

She raises a brow as if to prompt him to tell her more, so he adds, gesturing to the texts in question, "An atlas of barrier ninjutsu. The other is a biography: a sage from the Land of Night." The biography he'd chosen more for its extensive length than true interest, in his search for distraction, but he doesn't feel he can verbalize that particularly comfortably. The one about barrier ninjutsu had held at least a few passages of information he'd found useful.

"Sounds interesting," Sakura murmurs, smiling up at him from his right. "I don't know much about barrier ninjutsu. Just the basics, and the Four Corner Sealing method. We tried it once, on the Three Tails."

Sasuke blinks slowly, eyebrows rising a little as he commits this information to memory. Such a technique requires fine chakra control, he knows, trying to seal a tailed beast into another dimension.

"...When was that?"

Sakura's eyes flit to the side, as if she's thinking. "I would have been sixteen. It didn't end up working."

It's an advanced technique for a sixteen year old to attempt regardless of whether it worked or not. He's struck again by the respect he holds for Sakura, all that she's accomplished up to this point and what she will accomplish in the future. Healing, ninjutsu, poisons; she seems able to do it all.

"...That's an advanced technique," he finally comments.

She laughs. "I suppose. It would be more impressive if it had worked. Hopefully we won't need to try using it again anytime soon."

Hopefully not, he inwardly agrees.

"...How were your books?" He eventually asks as the library comes within sight a few blocks down the road, shifting the stack of books up slightly and glancing her way. Unbridled and another research journal are atop his own texts.

For some reason color finds its way to her cheeks.

"Uh… Yeah, they were fine."

He glances at the fiction text, then back up to her quizzically, arching an eyebrow to mirror her earlier, to get her to expound on the details of what she's read.

"Well…" Her line of vision shifts forward. "The research journal had a new study I was interested in. Neuroimaging, that sort of thing."

Sasuke examines her expression curiously, trying and failing to recognize what it is.

"...And the book?"

Sakura waves her hands noncommittally, laughing in a way that sounds a little forced. "Well, Ino recommended it. It was… better than the last one, I guess?"

She's still not looking at him. His brow furrows, and he recalls her book club joke from up on the hill.

"...Should I read it?"

That gets her to look at him. Jade eyes widen a bit as the flush deepens.

"Uh. No, no, it was kind of…" Her focus flits away. "Well, it wasn't very good! I don't think you'd like it very much. There are better ones out there; there's one I read a few months ago that you might like, actually! It's called Interlocking Maps, and I really think…"

Sasuke's brow knit closer together in puzzlement as Sakura continues with pleonasm, because didn't she just say it was better than the last one? He looks down at the cover of the book, perplexed as he listens to her recite the synopsis, a tale of hidden keys and ciphered texts. Nothing is given away by the amaranth cover of Unbridled before him, decorated with sloping yellow-gold ivy that borders the edges.

He observes her pink cheeks a bit longer, why not lingering on his tongue, before nodding and deciding to drop the subject.

---

The mission summons arrives at the tail end of a lackadaisical afternoon, spent reading Interlocking Maps beneath the cherry blossom tree on the hill. The messenger hawk drops the scroll calling for his presence in his lap before soaring away.

"I can take your books to my place, if you want," Sakura murmurs kindly once the clone poofs out of existence. "And I'll start dinner, in case it's urgent; then you can eat quick."

Sasuke nods appreciatively, heart stirred yet again before departing for the Hokage's office.

It does, in fact, turn out to be urgent: an A-rank espionage mission.

"We've received intel that's given us an in with a money laundering scheme," Kakashi delivers stoically. "It's only a temporary opportunity. Shikamaru will be undercover over the course of about a week, but the travel time is a little over two days, meaning you'll need to leave tonight to make it on schedule. The rest of you will be back-up, in case things go south."

Kakashi hashes out the details with them - positioning, the best data available on the interior premises their leader will be infiltrating, and the suspected defenses the operation will have. High caliber ninja; there must be a fair amount of money involved, apt for an A-rank.

"Meet at the gates in an hour and a half," Shikamaru orders as they make their way out of the building. "We'll need to cover at least a few hours of travel tonight. Make sure to eat beforehand."

Sasuke inclines his head in unison with Sai and Choji before flitting off in the direction of his own apartment, landing with heavy footsteps at the threshold of his own door. He packs the essentials and puts his living space in order for the next week, clothes laid out to dry and confidential scroll sealed away, just in case.

He peers down at the perishables in the fridge before deciding to take them with him to Sakura's. They'll just expire in his absence; it makes more sense to give them to her so they'll get eaten, and besides that, she's been feeding him. He'll have to get groceries whenever he gets back.

Out of habit, he nearly raps on the sage green door again once he's on her doorstep.

He stops his motion in midair, and instead drops his fingers to rest on the doorknob before prudently twisting, cool weathered metal against his palm as a mixture of both trepidation and contentedness swirls in his gut.

It's unlocked, as she said. He steps inside tentatively before calling, "Sakura," softly in greeting, beginning to toe off his sandals.

Sasuke greatly enjoys the sense of belonging that nearly overwhelms him as she pokes her head and upper body around the corner from the kitchen, coming within his line of sight from the entryway. There's a wide smile on her face, and a rice ball being formed in her hands.

"Sasuke-kun." The way she speaks his name reminds him of a map in and of itself, marking where he appertains. "Was it urgent?"

He nods as he sets his mission gear down, bag of produce in arm as he makes his way to the kitchen. "Espionage backup."

Sakura hums, looking at the bag curiously. He can see now that there's a small pile of onigiri already prepared on the counter behind her.

"...I'll be gone for eleven days," he offers in explanation, shifting the bag up to reveal its contents: spinach, tomatoes, cabbage, green onion. "We're leaving in about an hour."

"Oh," Sakura says, smiling. "Thank you. I'll use them." She gestures to the onigiri behind her, before adding, "I thought we could have onigiri for dinner, and then… well, you can take some with you. There's plain, and some with tomatoes."

His gaze softens on her before he manages to verbalize, "Thank you," as he turns to her fridge with slightly blurred vision. He blinks it away before he begins putting the produce away; he knows roughly where she keeps each item, now.

Dinner is filling, simplistic and right beneath a forest-colored market lamp. She presses a container of onigiri into his hand once he's got his sandals on, and he carefully packs it into the top of his mission gear bag.

He skims his thumb along her cheek when he kisses her goodbye, travel pack already situated on his back.

"Be safe," she whispers as she lets her fingers drop from his shoulders.

Sasuke is fast, so it's not really much of a detour to flit to the memorial stone. He quickly pours a drizzle of water from his canteen atop the soil, pertinacious, and thinking that eleven days is going to be a lengthy time to be away, despite the fact that he was previously away for years. His last thought before he departs is that he hopes it rains once or twice in his absence, and that it's a nice feeling, to have food prepared for him by someone he loves in his mission pack.

---

Everything goes according to plan.

It's not a particularly difficult mission, other than the possibility of facing off against the guard ninja, should things go south. Really, Sasuke knows Shikamaru is probably amongst the most capable within Konoha's ranks for this sort of thing. He's unassuming, with features that are fairly common, unlikely to draw unnecessary attention to himself and also unlikely to give anything away.

Sasuke does surveillance in the forested outskirts of the property, watching and masking his chakra and trading shifts with Sai or Choji occasionally. Being backup, they can't cluster as they did on the previous mission, so he doesn't speak to his teammates much, aside from the first two evenings of their journey there, when Sai asks more seemingly random questions around their fire. This go-around it's things such as which household chore each of them dislikes the most and which they would rather have - their dishes magically clean, or their clothing. Sasuke answers, "Laundry," to the first with little thought, followed by, "Clothing," to the second, though he's thinking more along the lines of washing his bedding than anything else.

His sleep is at least a smidgen more restful, being away from the village, but it comes at the price of missing pink hair and jade eyes. He manages to stretch the onigiri out for several days, savoring the taste of salted rice and cherry tomatoes on his tongue. He eats them outside of normal meal intervals, more as snacks, because he doesn't wish to be asked questions about them, and also because of Sakura's advice to gain weight.

And also a little because he doesn't want to share.

Shikamaru procures the information they came for after a week passes, enough to effectively lure the head of the organization into deep water at a later date, and that's that.

---

Three daffodil blooms are missing from the plant astride Sakura's door upon his return. Sasuke examines them for a protracted moment before turning the doorknob, relatively sure she'll be home; it's well past seven on a Friday.

"Sakura," he says quietly as he steps into the entryway, walking with measured steps so that she can hear him. There's an instant where pink hair moves, just visible over the edge of her couch, and then she's smiling widely as she sets aside the book she was reading and rounds the sofa to greet him in the doorway.

"Sasuke-kun," she greets cheerfully, lips turned upwards. She speaks his name with such joy that it makes his stomach flip, the bounty of her endearment.

Her arms are around him before he can formulate what to say, hugging him to her tight.

Carefully, he puts his arm around her, heat creeping up his neck and tilting his head downward slightly to rest atop hers before he whispers, "...Tadaima."

"Okaeri," her voice answers, tenderhearted against his chest. He tightens his grip on her in response, enjoying the familiar scent of berry.

Eventually they part to some degree, only for Sakura to rise up on her tiptoes.

The acrid stain of separation dissolves into the sweetness of reunion as he holds the smooth skin of her cheek in the palm of his calloused hand, the soft light of her apartment melting away as he surrenders to the providence of being understood, of being held dear.

"Did you eat dinner?" She asks breathlessly afterwards, face still flushed and pupils dwarfing green.

"...I did." They stopped for an early dinner of rations in the last leg of their return journey, just before five. None of them had spoken it, but there was an eagerness to get home that had been palpable in the air. Sasuke got the feeling that his squadmates are not often stationed away from home for quite as long as they were for this mission.

"Good. Would you want to go with me to the market?" She finally asks, looking up at him hopefully, her smile sunny. "I've been putting off going, and I thought maybe, since you gave me your produce before you left, you might need to make a trip, too?"

Sasuke agrees, eager to be around her for at least a bit tonight, superseding a while away. "...I'll leave my things here and get them later?"

Sakura nods brightly.

The market isn't crowded at present, later in the evening on this Friday in the middle of May; most people are probably out socializing somewhere or already home with their families following a week's work. He and Sakura take their time, leisurely perusing through aisles of noodles and spices and small mountains of produce arranged in sideways crates, filled to the brim. She picks up the types of foods he's learning she purchases regularly; cuts of frozen pork and chicken, filets of salmon, fragrant ginger, savory miso, fresh strawberries, tart lemons. She also grabs a few things he hasn't yet seen in her fridge: rounded ume apricots and white peaches on the cusp of their season, the earliest bounty from their respective crops; he surmises she must like to buy certain fruits as they come into their prime growth periods.

"Is red heirloom your favorite kind?" Sakura asks out of the blue as they peer at a pile of the red fruits, tomatoes situated amongst a wide spread of other varieties, such as campari and black trifele and cherry. She's grasping the edges of one to test its ripeness.

Sasuke blinks, looking at her curiously before recalling that the tomatoes in his bag of produce he'd given her had, in fact, been red heirloom.

"...Any kind is fine." He's liked every variety of tomato he's tried, but red heirloom had been the one he had most often as a child, a penchant that stuck; his mother prepared them often, steeped in soup or sliced to be tossed into salads. He'd liked them so much that she'd often give him several slices with salt as a snack. Sasuke can still recall the taste perfectly, watching the luster from the kitchen window catch his mother's sweep of dark hair as she finished the dishes, juice dripping down his chin and salty tartness sinking into his tongue.

He used to wonder about that habitually, about which ripe slice was the last and he just hadn't known it. He'd wished he'd appreciated it more, the way his mother smiled at him and ruffled his hair, gifting him a plate filled with viscid indulgence that would scorch his tongue with salt and an aching nostalgia.

Once he was on his own, he'd remembered his mother's adamance on proper nutrition often; she used to repeat it, when he would mention something he wanted to be able to do just like his brother, running faster or hitting a target with a well-aimed shuriken or learning Katon no Jutsu. His tunnel vision propelled him forward in training for his revenge, and eating healthy foods was simply part of that, but he couldn't stomach anything sweet, after, considering his aunt and uncle. Tomatoes were the compromising solution, easy because they offered the vitamins of fruit without being sweet but didn't need to be cooked to be enjoyable. He wasn't particularly skilled in cooking at that age, all of seven years old. It's also one of the reasons he's partial to onigiri; it was easy to make back then with inexperienced hands, a staple he remembered how to prepare by hungrily watching his mother in the kitchen.

Sakura is smiling up at him expectantly, dimple on display and brow arched in an invitation to elaborate, and he supposes it's an easy admission; it won't hurt anything, and it's not like he needs to articulate all of that.

His focus flicks to the other varieties before he admits, quietly and trying to ignore the increment of sad nostalgia that's burrowed into the corner of his heart at the recall, "...But yes. It's my favorite."

Sakura smiles at him as if he's done something wonderful by sharing this information with her. It's shortly followed by the plucking of four of the ripest of the red heirloom tomatoes there, deposited into the bag she's carrying with her.

He grabs a few of his own as he tries to inwardly untangle the mess of bittersweetness his heart has become, filling his lungs with the smell of an early gleaning and gaze honing in on the gauzy light catching atop the curves of the market's yields. The memories ache, but Sakura's smile helps.

He tries to dissuade her, when they're waiting in line and she offers to pay for his, too, but she's adamant about it.

"It's the least I can do, since you gave me yours," she says, grinning in a way that implies it's a done deal before turning to converse with the cashier; it seems like she knows them.

As they visit about a past broken clavicle - it must be a patient of hers - and Sasuke watches her amiability, he finds himself for a split second wondering what Mikoto Uchiha would have thought of Sakura.

The thought is biting, amaroidal and trenchant and bludgeoning in the worst of ways, because he thinks - knows - the answer, mere milliseconds after he's thought it, and it's too late to unthink it, to be spared the transcendental knowledge of the hard truth.

She would have loved her.

---

It's a prolix walk to the memorial stone once he kisses Sakura good night, grocery bag clutched in his arm and a little water left in the canteen from his mission pack. He takes his time, slow and deliberate steps while breathing in the scent of May, of early summer succiduous, simmered into the earth in a way that keeps it warm through the night, too.

Sasuke avoids looking in the direction of the memorial stone until he's right up on it. He wants to be appreciative of the things he does have. He has all he needs, he thinks, ample bounty in the palm of his hand, in one swipe of his thumb, so putting off the pain in exchange for abience is a natural reflex.

It's why he doesn't notice the minuscule buds peeking out of the soil until he's within two feet of the stone.

There's a diffused flash of time where he just freezes, thoughts scattered and stunned and wondering if perhaps he's dreaming as they become blurred telluric verdances.

They're impossibly small, but all four of them are poking up above the ground. He sets aside his grocery bag and his mission pack before sitting himself in front of the stone, sliding his fingers over the foliage delicately, fascinated by the color and texture, the catharsis and tactility of the way they feel in his hand.

The dew collects on the meager shoots of green as he drizzles water over each sprout, dripping down slowly to sink into the earth.

He sits there for over an hour, rapt and looking at them with distorted vision, thinking of his mother's kind smile and the seasons she invested in nurturing things that required careful, repeated efforts.

---

AN: I've so missed updating this fic. I'm hoping to never go that long without updating again, but the American public education system is a fickle bitch, so only time and level of insanity can tell. Jokes aside, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, finally; roughly 45 days of school left (not including weekends) until summer's here, but who's counting?

I'm hoping to add at least one more chapter before school's out for the summer and I can really get down to business, if it's any consolation. I hope you enjoyed! ❤️ A special thanks to those of you who came back to comment kind things or send kind messages even during the lull in updates. I greatly appreciate you. ❤️❤️❤️

P.S. If you're into Reddit, myself and a couple others have put together a Sasusaku subreddit over there. Check it out! 🌸