AN: I'm sorry for the wait! At least it's 13k? [More notes at the end!]
Chapter 12: Sciamachy
"There'll be more heat stroke cases," Sakura remarks contemplatively, eyeing the clouds that are drifting lazily across the sky as she finishes off the last bit of harumaki. "And sunburns."
They're sitting atop the precipitous cliffs contained within the boundaries of the southwest training ground, sharing dinner picked up from a restaurant near the hospital. The summer heat Konoha is known for is set to start dominating their days soon; the coming week's weather forecast is rumored to reach the upper nineties, in accordance with past almanacs. Sakura suggested they go somewhere and enjoy the evening outside tonight while they can.
Sasuke chews thoughtfully, tentatively pressing for bones in his bite of salted shioyaki and finding none. The taste of fish dissolves on his tongue, char of the grill coupled with savoriness.
He swallows before he asks, "Mostly civilians?"
Sakura nods, gaze shifting to him for a second. "For heat stroke, yeah. It's almost never Shinobi." She laughs a little. "I can still remember Iruka-sensei yelling at us every day at the Academy. 'Kids, it is vital that you stay hydrated!' I guess we must have learned our lesson, after all, but I don't know how he put up with all of us."
The corner of his mouth twitches upwards; Sakura has Iruka's inflection decidedly nailed, and he vividly remembers that exact phrasing. Sasuke briefly wonders if Iruka's still teaching at the Academy. It feels like a lifetime ago.
"He's right, of course, but I'll never forget the way he said it," Sakura's saying, shaking her head at the recollection. "He should have said more about sunscreen. Naruto still never wears it, unless Hinata forces it on him. A lot of our ranks don't, actually. They think that just because they tan instead of burn that there's no danger." She rolls her eyes, then, looking rather wistful. "Must be nice."
Sakura gets sunburnt easily, he concludes. When they were younger and assigned missions that took them out of the village, she used to slather on sunscreen every morning while getting ready, prior to beginning the day's duties. He himself only occasionally gets sunburnt, and usually it turns tan in the ensuing day or two. It's never hurt terribly, though he dislikes the scant amount of peeling skin that typically accompanies the aftermath. He tries to use sunscreen in the warmer months, although while he was away, his cloak shielded him from most of it. He sticks to longer sleeved shirts now, also, so it hasn't been a huge concern.
"...You burn easily." It's more a statement than a question, but it makes sense, given her fairer complexion.
…And the freckles.
His brows furrow as he abruptly abandons that progression of thought and the implications of it: that if one has the necessary genetic predisposition, the sun will only bring more freckles out on their skin following continued exposure.
Sakura sighs deeply, loaded with meaning. "Unfortunately, yes." Green eyes flick to him, ebbing with curiosity. "You don't?"
"...Not really."
Sakura smiles at him. "I suppose your scalp doesn't burn, either, since your hair is dark."
His mouth tugs downwards in a frown. "Your scalp can burn?" It sounds eminently unpleasant.
Sakura groans animatedly, shifting to lean further on her right arm behind her. He catches himself memorizing the arch of her back as she does so, and he redirects his focus to the blades of grass etching in between the cracks in the rocks.
"Yes, and it's the worst. Ino's does, too; the sun goes right through lighter hair. I have to cake sunscreen on if I'm outside for more than an hour."
A long moment passes in which a robin's call echoes across the clearing and an aubergine cloud inches its way across the setting sun.
"...Is Iruka still teaching?" Sasuke finds himself asking, thinking it will help him gain further reign of his thoughts.
She nods; he can see it from the corner of his peripheral vision.
"Yeah. He's mentoring Shino now, actually."
Sasuke blinks in absolute bewilderment.
"...Aburame?" He questions, certain he must have misheard her.
Sakura smirks at him as if she's amused. "Yes, Shino Aburame. Interesting, huh?" She shifts slightly, surveying the skyline. "Of all the people in our generation of Shinobi, he might be the last one I'd have expected to become a teacher at the Academy. He's just teaching a couple of classes right now - they have him doing guard duty at night sometimes, still, so they're the early morning ones - but it sounds like eventually he wants to do it full time. Or at least that's what Ino says; I haven't seen him in a while, actually."
It's hard to imagine Shino teaching children, though Sasuke supposes he's nice enough; just quiet. It's a mental image he can't quite shake, him at the front of a classroom with his dark glasses and quiet countenance.
He considers for a long moment, who else in their generation would make good teachers at the Academy. Definitely not himself, especially not after his defection. Naruto would be a shitty teacher, also.
Sakura, though…
"...If you weren't running the hospital, would you teach?" Sakura would make an exemplary teacher: highly intelligent, and respectful yet intimidating when she wants to be, though he's rarely on the receiving end of it. She would also make a good Genin squad leader, come to think of it, notwithstanding that any batch of Genin ganging up on her for a bell test reminiscent of Kakashi's would be completely and utterly doomed.
Sakura blinks owlishly, expression morphing from surprised to genuinely cogitative.
"Iruka-sensei approached me a few months ago about setting up some medical ninjutsu courses that are shorter term for next year, possibly," she reveals. "Maybe four class periods, spread out over a month or two. Tsunade-shishou pushed to set that up when she was Hokage, but…" Sakura shrugs. "There was too much going on, at the time." She picks up a bite-sized chunk of the shioyaki with her chopsticks and plops it neatly in her mouth, chewing with an introspective look adorning her features.
Sasuke dips his head in acknowledgment; that makes sense. Honestly it's something that should have been taught at the Academy in the first place. The rudimentary first aid they learned in advance of becoming Genin barely scratched the surface of what might be necessary in the field.
"...But would you?"
Sakura swallows before she shrugs again, smiling noncommittally. "Mmm, I don't know. I think I would get bored with it, after a bit, teaching the same things every year. Medicine is nice because it's always advancing; there's never a moment where there isn't more to learn, to help the field progress." She pauses, then adds, almost as if an afterthought, "I do like working with kids, though."
Sasuke observes her curiously, then, thinking of the handful of occasions he's seen her interact with children, on missions years ago. She was, without fail, friendly and kind; she's probably even better with them now, through her experience running the hospital. She likely sees many of the children of Konoha as patients.
He's admiring the manner in which several loose strands of her hair are floating in the meager breeze, thinking and chewing another bite of their food, when she changes the subject.
"Have you settled into your apartment?" She looks to him curiously as she switches the arm she's leaning on, resting further back against her other arm now casually. There's a flash of something like surprise in her expression before it flits away quicker than it came, almost as if she's smothered it, and warmth journeys up his neck, because he's pretty sure he's just been caught staring again. It takes a second for him to retroactively process what she's just asked him as she clarifies further. "Anything you still need?"
As his brow furrows, he inwardly experiences a profound moment of conflict and diffidence, given that he was just reflecting on how Sakura would be good with children. Conversely, parents shield their children from Sasuke. He hasn't seen his neighbor or her child since that evening coming home from their team dinner; he's been walking with heavier steps exclusively since then to keep it that way, to try to give her some sense of security.
Other things contribute to his sense of conflict reflecting on his apartment, also, the main one being how he's memorized the texture of the ceiling directly above his bed. There's a pattern that looks vaguely like a waterfall just to the left of his particular recurring vantage point, following certain satiations in the caliginosity of his room alone.
Sakura's looking at him expectantly, so he forcefully shoves all of his ruminations aside and tries to focus on what she's actually asked him.
"...I need a lamp," He admits honestly, thinking of waking up in the middle of the night, reading for distraction while nursing a cup of sencha tea and continuing work on the scroll. It's a very different coding from the first one, he's come to find; more advanced, and thus more of a challenge.
Sakura blinks as if taken aback; it must not be the answer that she expected. He supposes he hasn't ever vocalized his dislike for hard lighting.
"Like a table lamp, or a floor lamp?"
He contemplates, picturing the space, then shrugs noncommittally. "Either would be fine." A floor lamp would fit in the corner by the sofa, he thinks, adjacent to the window. If he found a table lamp, he could put it on the small end table in the living room, or push it up against the end of the kitchen table that touches the wall; that would probably be better for decryption assignments. Really the only requirement he has is that it works without being as intensely bright as the overhead lighting, though he'd prefer something that's not particularly modern.
Her lips shift into the expression that signifies she's thinking. She picks up another bite of what remains of their food with her chopsticks, placing it in her mouth and chewing.
"Did you have a place in mind to look for one?" She queries after she swallows, face shifting upwards to him.
He considers, recalling the modest army of lamps Sakura has at her apartment and how there isn't one of them that appears brand new.
"...Would the antique store have any?"
Sakura's fine pink brows rise to her hairline in surprise, as if she's astonished he remembered that. A smile unfurls on her gradually that swipes the air from his lungs.
"They do. They're open tomorrow, too."
The implication that they'll be spending their days together is not new at this point, but it still makes something in Sasuke's chest shift every time, burgeoning with fledgling redamancy.
"...When?" He manages, thoroughly enjoying the excuse to look at her, to watch the way the setting sun through the foliage casts little spots on her cheek, dappled light through the leaves.
"They open at one on Sundays," Sakura answers, smiling tentatively at him. "I haven't been there to check the books in a while. There aren't many people there until later in the afternoon; if it's busy, it's around three or four, so we can try to be out of there before then. I could…"
She turns her focus aside for some reason, eyes studying the food containers perched between them and suddenly seeming shy, arms pulling inward. Sasuke wonders what she's about to say, hand twitching around his chopsticks.
"I could maybe meet you at your building?" She suggests, peeking up belatedly beneath uniquely colored lashes, a few stray pink tresses still flyaway, undulating in the breeze. "Since it's closer to your place than mine, I mean."
He blinks once, then twice, as the realization sinks over him like a tide.
Sasuke has been to Sakura's apartment more times than he can count. She's opened her home to him near completely without an ounce of dubiety, to the extent that he's near memorized all of her photographs, many of the titles of her books, and every flavor in her tea cabinet, even the ones he knows he'll never try himself like strawberry shortcake and banana dessert. She's procured a duplicate of the specialized cutting board and stocked her cupboards with sencha tea for him. He's slept on her couch, curled up with her blanket, and he's been given special treatment in the context of their team, allowed to stay beyond the hours allotted to anyone else, to have tea even though she works early the next day. He's even been allowed in her home in her absence, and trusted enough to be allowed entry without knocking.
Yet Sakura has not even seen his front door.
His apartment is decidedly nothing special, not like hers is, but he supposes she wouldn't know that, given he's never offered her an opportunity to see it. He's never been keen on inviting others into his space, truth be told. Not after-
His brow furrows as he lacerates that train of thought rather sharply, vision unfocusing as he turns his head, the treeline becoming blurred.
But it's not just anyone; it's Sakura.
Maybe she's curious about his apartment like he was about hers, like he still is about the color of the walls in her bedroom. He forgets about the reciprocity of relationships sometimes, the possibility that she experiences the same interest about him that he has about her.
The gears turn slowly but surely.
Sasuke knows that she is simply asking to meet him at his building, not necessarily to be invited in to see his apartment - she's too polite and cognizant of boundaries - but he makes the decision with only a little hesitation at the thought of another run-in with his neighbor.
Impulses.
It's a simple enough thing; he can do it.
Right?
She's been inviting him over and cooking for him, making him feel at home in any and every way that matters. And welcoming him back when he returns to the village, tender reunions that chisel into the bedrock of the walls he's constructed around himself as if they're nothing more than soapstone.
It's only fair.
"...Okay. I could… make dinner later. After," He finally manages, hoping the invitation is clear enough and somehow keeping his voice level as his mind reels through a new to-do list for later. He'll have to give everything a once over to get rid of anything… condemnatory, but it shouldn't hurt.
He experiences a brief moment of inner dismay as soon as the offer leaves his lips, because he doesn't know what they'll do at his apartment for that period of time, the afternoon hours that they'll need to pass prior to making said dinner. He doesn't have a television or anything like that.
Read, maybe? Perhaps he should ask her to bring a book, or one of her board forecasted heat will make a walk unpleasant.
Then he looks back to her on his right, vision refocusing because he's realized she hasn't responded, and maybe that means he's misread things, that she doesn't actually care about that.
All of his hesitance immediately evaporates.
Sakura is looking at him as if he's hung the moon in the sky for her. Lustrous almost, like he's done something marvelous instead of simply offering to make a meal and invite her into his stark living space. It nearly rivals the look she gave him after opening her birthday gift, though she's not crying.
"I would love that, Sasuke-kun," she finally says enthusiastically, smiling so widely that her dimple makes an appearance and her eyes crinkle at the edges. His ears feel warm. So does his chest, where his heart is pounding vociferously. "I can help cook."
Distracted as he is, Sasuke mentally cycles through what's in his pantry and fridge, deliberating on what they could possibly make. Not curry; he remembers she doesn't like spicy foods. He has chicken, eggs, and plenty of rice, he supposes.
"...Oyakodon?" He questions quietly, transfixed by how she's looking at him. There's a blatant adoration that's reflectant in jade and the set of her mouth, the dimple still showing because she hasn't stopped smiling, her entire countenance one of flushed jubilation that he can't believe something so simple is the cause of, to the extent that he suddenly worries if she won't be terribly disappointed at how austere his place is.
He shoves it to the cornerstone of his mind, refocusing his thoughts on impulses, about trying to embrace them, about lily plants that have sprouted up from the soil. He's been watering them regularly, still, since he returned from his last mission.
"That sounds great," she chimes, beaming at him.
The rest of the evening passes in a gradient of darkening skies, breeze licking through the clearing. They stay out later than planned, until stars are peeking out from behind the cloud cover.
When he goes to sleep, he thinks about Sakura's smile and a fire contained within his ribcage. He's too reticent to breathe it all out at once, not at all like his jutsu. Showing her his apartment will be a start, though, a crackling in the coal. Maybe it's the right step.
He's grateful that his sleep is dreamless.
It's not until he's showered and eaten lunch and disposed of the trash the next day, a mere fifteen minutes left before their agreed upon time, that he begins to survey everything with a critically assessing eye, the reality of it sinking in.
In comparison to his own sparsely decorated apartment, Sasuke much prefers Sakura's. Her rooms feel inhabited, blooming with color and memories on display; in contrast, his are locked away in a single box, stowed in a closed closet.
He's generally comfortable in his solitude overall, to a fault. It's helped him cope to some degree. It will be… odd, to have her in this space. A role reversal. It's something that didn't even occur to him when he picked it, that she would ever see it, which is stupid, because of course she would at some point. That's how relationships work, right?
Sakura gives and gives and gives. It's his turn.
He walks through the meager amount of space silently, frowning and feeding the flames of aporia, trying to ascertain what it will look like, to her: the lack of a dedicated entryway, the large window in the living room framed by gray brick, the plaster ceilings, the off white walls, the minimal furniture, the meticulously tabulated fridge and cupboard organization. He hopes his food preferences appear normal; there's less variety in his fridge than there is in hers, he's come to find. The same is true of his cabinets, filled mostly with rice and seasonings.
He inhales deeply by the dining table, trying to perceive what aromas permeate his kitchen. Sakura's kitchen is fragrant with her various strains of tea; he thinks his, now that he's really endeavoring to place it, smells vaguely like spices and sencha. He's made a significant dent in both of the jars she'd gifted him; he'd been thinking he'd pick up two more on their next visit to the tea shop.
His frown grows, then, because maybe he should have picked up one of the sweeter varieties of tea she likes for today. He would have had the time, had he thought of it sooner. He keeps a meager amount of sugar on hand for smaller things like sauces, offset with flavors that dull the intensity of the dulcet, so she could at least have sweetened sencha, he supposes.
Would such a gesture even matter? He doesn't know if she'll want to come over more than just once. There's not really much to be seen about it at all, nothing that would indicate he lives here over anyone else, other than his library books neatly stacked next to the scroll on the kitchen table and their team photo stationed at his bedside.
He briefly wonders, stepping further into the bedroom, if maybe he should move the frame somewhere else. He reaches out to feel the grainy texture of the wood, hoping against hope that it will ground him.
There's not really anywhere else to put it in here, he thinks following a cursory glance around. Is it odd, to keep it here? The room has felt less empty with its presence, and there's a convenience in its location if it's a night where he's more afflicted with disturbed sleep.
Ultimately he decides it must not be; Sakura's copy must have been in her room for a while, he assumes, given his teammates' reactions to its location on her bookshelf. He studies it for longer than is necessary, seeking distraction from illogical thoughts and the general feeling of being unsettled, before placing it back in its designated location.
His focus sways from the photograph, back in its place, to the bathroom entrance, realizing that it's only accessible through the bedroom. He hadn't paid much attention to it at all when he'd selected this unit. It means he should probably have his bedroom door open when she arrives.
He wonders briefly if that's being too forward. Sakura's bedroom door has stayed closed at her apartment thus far. Sai helped her paint it, though, and Ino, too, so it can't be something she considers to be too terribly private. He momentarily recalls the one occasion she'd offered to let him sleep in her bed for the afternoon. He doesn't think she'd suggest it if she was uncomfortable with it.
He mulls on that now, that perhaps the separation has been for his benefit, if her care for boundaries is on his behalf.
His brow furrows as his mouth hardens into a thin line, staring at the door as if it's some grand obstacle to overcome, because he knows he's being foolish and overthinking this whole thing.
Eventually Sasuke sighs, trying and failing to abandon his qualms, eyeing his closet doors before sliding them open to reveal the box. He pulls out a letter of hers completely at random, seeking to settle these stupid nerves he's having about this all of the sudden.
Sasuke-kun,
It's warmed up a bit here, finally. I can't believe how much snow fell in Konoha this year. It felt like we'd never get past all of the cases of the flu here at the hospital.
I've been helping Ino and her mom at the flower shop. They've had a backlog of orders since it's safe to say it's spring now. It's reminded me of when Ino and I were little and used to 'help'. I'm pretty sure we must have used up a small fortune of flowers with all of our ikebana practice back then.
Sai's been recruited into helping nowadays, too, but he spends a lot of time rearranging the secondary blooms and filler foliage until they're just right. Ino's mom says he has an eye for it. I guess that makes sense, with him being an artist and all. I think they're going to move in together soon; Ino mentioned looking for a place the other day.
I hope you're doing well. Winter is a hard season. It's nice to enjoy the warmth, once it comes. Here's hoping that kinder weather reaches where you are soon, if it hasn't already.
I miss you.
-Sakura
Sasuke exhales slowly through his nose, collecting himself. He'd been in the thick of winter when he'd received that particular letter, trudging through snow up to his shins in the Land of Mountains where the season lingered longer. He'd enjoyed the soup he'd eaten that day, following a long day in the cold in which he avoided looking at the trail of footsteps left in his wake. He'd enjoyed coming down from the mountains to gentler slopes even moreso; the warmth had defrosted something in him, he'd reflected as he watched the snow melt with early morning sun drenching it. He'd sat beneath an evergreen tree as he watched, droplets melting off pine needles to drip defrost pinpricks into the iridescent snowpack.
He makes sure to close the closet doors fully, blocking the spare bedding and the box from view. He knows she would never go through his things or anything, but it feels safer to have them neatly barricaded in and out of sight for the time being.
He then tries to embark with some sense of assurance, audibly stepping past his threshold into the inferno that is Konoha early summer.
Sasuke finds her leaning up against the brick of his building once he's descended the staircase; she apparently was a little early. She's dressed nicely, a cream sleeveless shirt and a familiar violet skirt, along with her usual knee-high sandals. The outfit suits the weather well, though he's struck by the concern that he should have turned his thermostat up a few degrees; it will probably be a little cold for her, wearing that.
"Hey, Sasuke-kun," she greets cheerfully, coming away from the brick with her hands clasped casually behind her back. Her face is slightly flushed from the sun, but he can still see it light up upon seeing him.
"...Sakura."
They begin the walk west of his apartment, Sakura leading as they mill through the small throng of people, watering their outdoor plants in the summertide sun. She begins to chatter about the owner of the antique shop. It helps distract him a bit from his earlier consternation.
"His name is Yasuo," she tells him conversationally. "I've seen him at the hospital for occasional check-ups; he's pretty active for his age. Friendly, too; he'll talk your ear off if you're not careful. I think he must travel a bit, to find the antiques he has for sale. It's probably why it's closed for long stretches, sometimes."
Sasuke nods, before asking, "...Where do you think he goes?"
A thoughtful expression overtakes her features. "Hmm, that's a good question. He's a civilian, so I'd guess he probably doesn't leave Fire Country often, though occasionally there's a stretch where the shop is closed longer. It's never in the summer; probably too hot to travel. He has a cart that he takes with him, I think." They take several more steps, and she adds, "I think he probably gets the majority of it at estate sales? We've talked about the books a couple of times, and he's mentioned he's found a few that way, forgotten on somebody's shelf."
Eventually the weathered building comes into view, two stories tall with corner bricks eroding at the edges. The sign is flipped to read 'open' in the ground floor window by the door.
Sakura reaches it first, and she opens it for him, smiling as a bell jingles at its crown.
He follows her into the building only to be taken a little taken aback by the sheer amount of clutter. Shelf after shelf lies before him, filled to the brim with objects of every conceivable size, age, and finish. Wall hangings adorn the sides of the interior, all the way up to nearly graze the high ceilings. Furniture fills the space, too, old-fashioned vanities and dressers and desks covered in swatches of fabric, trinkets, and mementos. Terra cotta pots, intricate hair brushes, tea trays with rusted edges, and more fill every available square foot of surface.
"Sakura," an orotund voice greets near immediately from the front, intermixed with the sound of several window air conditioners siphoning cooler air throughout the building. When Sasuke looks to the source of the call, he sees an older man, hair gray and face wrinkled, possibly in his fifties or sixties. He's sitting at a glass countertop, stationed in front of a contraption of some sort with a tool in hand.
"Yasuo-san," Sakura acknowledges, coming further inside the building and towards the counter. Sasuke trails behind, stopping in the shadow of a bookcase taller than he is. "How are you?"
"Oh, you know me," the man replies, offering a smile, laugh lines crowding around the edges of his mouth and eyes. "Keeping busy, immersed in my gadgets." He gestures to the small bit of machinery he's working on, then asks, "How about yourself? Hospital keeping you busy?"
As Sakura dips her chin in confirmation, Sasuke reflects on the fact that she seems to have some degree of familiarity with nearly everyone they encounter within the boundaries of the village. It's a testament to her work as a healer, but also who she is as a person.
"A bit," she confirms. "Nothing too overwhelming last week, anyways. We'll see what this week brings."
Yasuo grins. "Well, it's hard to overwhelm a ninja. Maladies are probably a little less scary to solve than any sort of battle, yeah?"
"In most cases," Sakura responds after a moment, smiling.
The man nods, rotating the metallic part in his hand as if on impulse. His eyes pass over Sasuke succinctly before landing back on Sakura.
"And this is your other teammate, I assume?" The manner in which he asks the question is kind; no hint of ill will. Still, Sasuke can't help but tense slightly.
Sakura bows her head again in affirmation. "Yes, this is Sasuke."
"Hm," the man says, grinning and gaze shifting to Sasuke again to give him the once-over, at which Sasuke exhales quietly. Thankfully he doesn't seem to be the type of person predisposed to disliking him for his past; Sasuke knows his association with his team works to his benefit in terms of his reputation.
"Well, welcome."
Yasuo pauses, expression shifting to something that looks rather enigmatic. His focus circles back to Sakura.
"Sasuke and Sakura… Sounds a bit like a matched set," Yasuo chuckles, grinning. "Are you..?"
Sasuke is inordinately grateful for the way the luminosity seeping in from the windows is blocked by furniture and objects; it likely disguises the heat rising up his neck to his ears, standing here in the penumbra of a bookcase.
Sakura's fingers twitch a bit at her side before they rise to rub the back of her neck. The location in which she's standing is better lit; it's easy to see that her cheeks are inked scarlet. Her focus turns to him briefly, sheepishly, then she answers, facing back to the front of the store.
"...Yes, we are."
The man named Yasuo smiles more widely. "Well, isn't that nice. Congratulations." He rotates his hand again as if stretching his wrist. "Can I help you with anything today?"
"Thank you." Sakura shifts her weight from one foot to the other, sneaking a glance at Sasuke and blushing darker when she sees he's already looking at her.
"A lamp," she adds, redirecting her attention to Yasuo. "I knew you had some, so…"
"Ah. First place together, huh?" Yasuo grins as Sakura stiffens somewhat. "Y'know, I remember when my wife and I decorated our first place. It was pretty small, then, back before the kids came into the picture. We still have so many of those pieces, clocks and old bakeware and such. Though Tayumi did accidentally break my Kyoko's favorite mirror, that time with the kendama… She was only four, such a tiny thing! I never have been able to find another one like it. So many older mirrors are one-of-a-kind." The man laughs. "That's the joy of antiques, I suppose; finding things with older histories and giving them new ones. But you know that already."
Sasuke slowly exhales, suddenly very interested in the titles of the books on the shelf beside him.
Small Workers, Beyond the Hungry Country, Lion and Tiger, Bad Blood, The Broken Token, Exiled Jewels-
"Um, no, no, he's just… Sasuke has his own apartment; he's the one looking for the lamp. I'm just… Well, we're just dating." She pauses before adding, more faintly, "For now."
Something in his chest rises to his throat and gets irreversibly, hopelessly stuck there on those last two words, of the implication of the future beyond them.
For now.
They echo in the belfry until they're all he hears, letters in mismatched fonts running together as he stares at book spines, not seeing a damn thing except for pink in his peripheral vision.
For now.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume. Shouldn't have gone on like that." By the time Sasuke shifts his gaze back towards the front of the store, Yasuo is scratching his head, seeming fairly abashed.
"It's fine," Sakura says quickly, with a laugh that sounds almost nervous, moving her weight to her other foot again. "Well, we'll probably just… look around?" The intonation in her voice rises towards the end of the sentence as she glances at Sasuke with pink cheeks.
He nods dumbly, barely hearing what she's suggested.
"Alright. Well, holler if you need anything! I'll be here, fiddling with this old radio and enjoying air conditioning. I added a few new books to the shelf; you know where they are. Some on medicine, too." An expression passes over his face as if something has just occurred to him, and he adds, looking at Sasuke, "Oh, and all the lamps work! Tested them myself. You can, too."
Sasuke inclines his head in the man's direction as if in a trance, barely caring about a lamp of all things.
For now.
The significance of it makes the blood sing in his veins, heart squeezed to a velocious tempo.
He trails behind Sakura further into the warehouse, her words ricocheting in his head and eyeing how her cheeks remain flushed as they pass through reams of light, before the sheer number of objects begins to overwhelm him.
The man, Yasuo, has to have been in business for decades to amass this many antiques. Recalling Sakura's wording from when she first mentioned it, he knows this wasn't always his location of operation; Sasuke assumes, then, that he must have moved to this building in the past few years. It seems likely that he simply ran out of space to house everything, wherever he was previously.
They pass antiquated fireplace framings, intricately carved and pushed against the wall, laden with worn bottles, cast iron cookware, and pitchers glazed robin's egg blue. A copper watering can, one of the largest he's ever seen, rests atop a shelf, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight and surrounded by a sea of salt and pepper shakers. A huge tin planter on the corner of an aisle overflows with old umbrellas. Sakura turns left, ambling around it in the narrow walkway.
"The lamps are in the basement," Sakura says conversationally as they pass a wall of mirrors, all ornately framed in bronze, gold, and silver, tarnished slightly at the edges.
Sasuke blinks, nonplussed, before commenting, "...There's a basement?"
Jade eyes shine back at him briefly. "Yeah. It's huge, right?"
He nods in agreement as he continues to follow her down the narrow pathway, framed with rusting metal chairs, aged crates with business information printed on the side, and a row of outmoded doors with peeling paint.
"Most of the books are upstairs," Sakura continues as they venture further into the store, and a descending staircase comes into their line of sight. "There are other things up there, too; old clothes and maps, things like that. He's always adding to it."
They descend the steps and enter the basement, smaller in square feet than the ground floor. It seems to contain the majority of the objects that require electricity to function; obsolete radios, clocks faintly ticking, television sets with antennae, and a spread of lamps fill the immediate space. There are no windows; the arrangement must be intentional, a clever method that allows customers to fully test the brightness of each fixture. A faint musty scent drifts through the area, the kind that comes with any basement that is of older construction, but the floors and surfaces all appear to be kept meticulously clean, free of dust.
There's quite possibly every shape, height, and variety of antique lamp one could ever want or need. Stained glass lamps with diminutive pulley switches, simplistic table lamps with brass bases; it goes on and on, shelf after shelf. Floor lamps are clustered in the corner, standing at varying heights; their tops form a pattern of circled shades and colored transparencies.
Sakura's hands are clasped behind her back as she rounds the intersection to look at the following row. This shelf has milk glass varieties, the front procession reflecting a blur of pink as Sakura walks down the aisle. When he looks beyond her, he sees more traditional lamps; paper framing, wood bases, shoji-style with different designs depicting herons on water and apple blossom branches reaching into their painted horizons. There are simpler designs, too, plain rice paper with regular bamboo framing.
He takes a step closer to the display, studying the texture of the paper frames, and sees Sakura pause in his peripheral vision.
"I thought you might like these ones," she comments softly, coming to stand beside him, voice accenting the subtle ticking of the clocks two aisles over; the sound saturates the small enclosed space.
Sasuke nods carefully. These types of lamps were the ones common in all of the buildings in the Uchiha District. Traditional and occasionally decorative, they had lined not only his childhood home, but those of most of his relatives. When he was very little, he used to hold his hands up to them to watch the cast shadows make designs, shadow puppets against dark wood and tatami mats.
Sakura leaves his side, prompting him to look up. She approaches the wall where the cords all lead to, crouching.
He hears the switching of what he assumes must be several double adapters being flipped on. All of the shoji lamps flit to life in the span of seconds, although it's hard to tell their lumency with the overhead fluorescence.
Sakura must think the same thing, because she reaches around the next corner, and the overhead light switches off; at least a couple of her lamps must have come from here, then, if she knows where the outlets and the light switch are located.
It's a veritable sea of gilt effulgence. Some of them are brighter while others burn more dimly. The light as a whole casts shadows down each of the aisles, gauzy sepia in the form of interlocking rectangular patterns diffusing atop the shelves and walls.
Sakura walks back to stand closer to him, smiling when he meets her eyes.
"See any you like?" She questions quietly, cheek spotlighted in pale florid as he considers her, glowing gold.
For now.
The words reverberate in his head before he tears his pupils away from her, blinking thrice to clear his vision prior to examining the selection.
The more artful ones with painted motifs are nice, but his gaze is immediately drawn to one towards the back, more simplistic and unassuming with no pattern; in essence, a blank canvas. He assumes it must be one of the older ones there as he steps forward to examine it further, noticing that the bamboo is faded with age and that the paper appears more stiffened than the rest, too. Sasuke fleetingly tries to imagine what this lamp has seen, what lives it has lived prior to its stationing here. Traditional and simple, the light it casts is amongst the softest of them all, more late dusk than strong dawn, but he thinks it should work well enough for what he needs.
It is also plain enough that it would fit amongst pretty much any type of decor, except that which is exceedingly modernized, but he nudges that thought back into a corner for now.
"That one?" Sakura asks, moving back towards the double adapters.
For now.
"This one," he confirms softly, picking it up.
Sakura unplugs it and reaches across the sea of glow to transfer the cord to him.
Time seems to slow to a crawl as her fingers skim his, as the sea of pale yellow envelops them nearly entirely. For some reason it reminds him of fireflies in the summer, glistering into existence in the Land of Fields. He'd spent a solid month there once, teetering on the border that led to the Land of Jungles. It had been nice to see the summer cabbages plump beneath the fireflies' cast auras ahead of the harvest.
He would like to show that to her, he realizes.
Then the spell is broken, and she's turning to unplug the adapters and flip the lights back to their previous state.
"Do you want to look around a bit?" Sakura asks quietly, seeming near as out of sorts as he is as she comes around the junction of merchandise and his perception adjusts back to the overhead lighting. "I wouldn't mind looking at the books since we're here."
He dips his head in agreement; he kind of assumed they'd probably linger a bit.
"Okay," she says, smiling. "We can take that to the front desk so you don't have to carry it around the whole time."
She turns to head back the way they came, and he follows.
"Ah. So you found one you liked," Yasuo calls, friendly as they come back into sight of the front of the store, the part still in his hand and now what looks like a screwdriver in the other. "Nice choice; that's an older one. Traditional. They used kumohada-mashi paper back then, made from hemp and Kozo, and unbleached; it's more durable. I like the look of them, myself."
Jade eyes briefly look back at Sasuke, smiling, before she answers, turning her gaze back towards the man, "Yeah; it's a nice one. We'd like to look around a bit still, if that's okay."
Something turns over in Sasuke's chest; he's pleased she seems to like it, too.
Yasuo grins. "Sure. Just set it here for now; you can come back for it at the end."
Sakura nods as Sasuke steps forward to place it on the corner of the counter's clear glass, tucking the cord around it carefully so it doesn't dangle off the edge.
He tails Sakura like a shadow as they make their way back into the heart of the establishment. They take a different path this go-around, weaving around a row of armoires and passing by a cluster of ladders propped against the aged brick wall. Window shutters and a shelf filled with bookends in every conceivable sculpting follow: nautical sailing galleys wrought in relief wood, ornate patterned pewter in interlocking curved designs, small bronze lions with fangs bared, all framing aged cookbooks. There's a definite feeling of care for everything present in the building, Sasuke notices; there is little dust to be found here, either.
A staircase leading upward falls within his line of vision as they reach the back of the building, passing by archaic chandeliers and scuffed wooden chests. Sakura takes the stairs first, and he follows after a brief pause spent focusing on the north wall, lined with aging art prints in ornamented frames.
The second level, once he reaches the top, appears to be nearly as expansive as the ground floor. It's warmer up here, though not unbearably so; there must be less vents for cool air to flow through. A spread of antique books fills his immediate sight, inveterate shelves stretched to the ceiling and filled to the brim with thick texts.
Very Sakura, he thinks.
She meanders over to the area, a miniature library in and of itself, to a section that appears to be about medicine. He trails behind her, trying to come to terms with all of the objects contained within these walls and their stories.
He'd come upon many antique stores on his travels, usually centrally located in larger settlements. He rarely ventured into them. Sasuke likes old-fashioned things - it's basically in his blood, to cling to tradition and the quondam - but there was something about contemplating objects of the past that unsettled him while he was on his journey, something that got in the way of what he was trying to reach.
As he ponders the aisles of the superannuated extending before him, Sakura still lingering at the edge of his vision, he begins to think that maybe it's okay to try it now. Everything has to have somewhere to go eventually.
When he refocuses on her, he realizes her entire visage has changed. She's gingerly shifting a book off an upper shelf. It's got a decrepit-looking spine that's difficult to read; he thinks it says something about experimental medicine.
"This is new," she murmurs, green eyes alight; it's clearly piqued her interest. The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in amusement as she opens the interior cover. "Or… Well. Not new, but new here. Kitasato, second edition." Her focus flicks to him temporarily, and she gives him a guilty smile. "Do you mind if I..?"
"Go ahead," he responds in a low voice, amused. "I'll look around."
Sakura beams at him before taking a seat in a nearby armchair, legs neatly crossed and book perched open on her lap. It must be somewhere she's sat to read in the past; she looks very comfortable there, amidst the aged teal fabric.
After allowing his gaze to linger on her for an instant more, he scans the titles of the books, but nothing immediately catches his interest. There are historical texts here and there, but nothing directly related to kenjutsu or ninjutsu, so he turns to venture further into the second floor.
Beyond the books, there's a transition into smaller furniture; end tables and more chairs, as well as shelves laden with novelties, and so on. Notably the objects are all ones that wouldn't be particularly heavy to haul upstairs. Light slats in from higher up windows as he steps, examining what lies perched atop each surface: miniature statues, globes, and seashells in every iridescence.
Beyond that, he comes across a display of clothing, coats and scarves balanced precariously on racks spotted with rust at their bases. The scarf at the forefront is of an interesting design: navy and green, stitched with patterns somehow alike both a medallion and a floral insignia. The decorative threading is of note; it catches the sun, shiny green and apple red.
As he turns a corner, he comes into an area that is mostly antiquated toys for children. Chipped Kokeshi dolls line the top shelf, ornate red chrysanthemums painted on their sides atop striped bases. Wooden samurai soldiers line the one below it, followed by animal figurines that appear to be hand-carved and toy shuriken painted in bright colors, faded with age. The other side of the aisle is stacked with boxes. Once he takes a few more steps, he sees that some of the boxes contain wooden puzzles.
The preternatural overtakes him as he reaches out for one.
Anything that trained the eye in any capacity, historically speaking, was considered to be good for the training and development of the Sharingan. The Uchiha clan had a natural capacity for seeking out visual patterns; it held true, then, that things such as puzzles likely helped that development along, exercising the vision in repeated drills to find solutions with increasing speed.
Sasuke has a multitude of memories that involve watching Itachi piece together a puzzle at the low table in their living room corner, a timer set beside his folded legs on the floor. They had many of the more traditional types of puzzles, likely passed down through generations: ornate lacquered wood with intricate yet shallow carvings, painted with traditional artwork. The tactile nature of the pieces is something he remembers well, the way the grain felt as he curled his fingers atop it, twirled it in his hand. They were complex puzzles, the kind typically reserved for adults.
Their father occasionally hovered back then, fastidious, frowning, lingering in the corridor to observe how fast his prodigy of a brother could speed through it this go-around.
He never did that for Sasuke.
There were a couple occasions where he'd stolen the timer and one of the puzzles away to his room in the middle of the night to practice, in the hopes of gaining the approval he desperately wanted from his father. He'd started with the one featuring a heron, neck extended to the gold of the sky in calling, surrounded by an intricacy of grass fluttering in the breeze as if to echo the shape of its arching body. Then he'd moved on to a more difficult one: a winter scene of a woman hidden behind a red paper umbrella, framed in twisting tree branches and footprints in the snow marking her path. Etched in subtleties of varying shades of gray, snowflakes dotted near every piece; it made it a lengthy one to solve.
He'd kept the puzzles, after, though he'd avoided the winter scene one like the plague despite it being amongst the most challenging in the small collection. It hurt, to put them together, but he'd been desperate to awaken his bloodline, so occasionally he'd yank one off the shelf to take to his own room, lorn and scattering the pieces and using the timer to see how fast he could put it together this session.
He doesn't know what happened to them once he left, but he thinks it's better that way. It would hurt to complete any of the ones that had lined the shelves of his childhood home; too many memories attached, specifically the type that still ached for his father's acknowledgment down to his bone marrow.
These ones have someone else's memories lined in the strokes of the wood grain, however. Sasuke directs a lengthy stare at the shelf, assessing.
It would be something to do this afternoon, he reasons, when they're done here. He assumes she'll probably buy the book, so they could read, too, but Sakura seems like the type who would enjoy puzzles. He could also get rid of it easily enough, if he changes his mind.
There's a stinging sensation behind his eyes as he touches the corner of one box and begins sorting through the different options, examining the artwork. They all seem to be quite old.
There's one of two koi fish, curling through blue waters amidst seaweed. Intricate scale detailing encapsulates each of their forms, tiny highlights and shadows that would make for a challenge. The one beneath it features a mountain, more simplistic in style, solid swathes of color with brushstroke outlines. The edges of the illustration fade to colorlessness, shifting to a rectangular border of interlocking diamonds. He gets the sense as he looks at it that the main picture itself would be easy to solve, but the border would present the greatest challenge, given its repetition of the same imagery over and over.
Both imageries are nice, but they're not quite what he feels he's searching for. He carefully shifts them aside, pulling out another stack.
The top box of this grouping showcases a traditional red bridge, arching over a river and framed by maple trees losing their leaves in the fall. This one would also be laborious, considering the placement of individual leaves in reference to the picture. The box beneath it seems more apt for children: a simplistically rendered swallow perched on the branch of a pomegranate tree, laden with fruit.
Sasuke shifts the stack aside to reach for a third and stops short.
It's possibly one of the more challenging puzzle pictures he's ever seen: a battle on horseback between two oppugnant armies who appear to be from centuries ago. Layers upon layers of interlocking swords and loosed arrows permeate a spring field, black and white stallions in various stages of canter peppering the space. Armored warriors sit astride their backs, preparing for combat. It takes him a period of study to make sense of it all, to realize there is no bloodshed or injury directly depicted in the image; it captures the fleeting moment weapons are raised in the opening clash of conflict rather than the moment the attacks land their targets. Banners stream in the background, rich fabrics in flax, mauve, and sage raised high above the treeline nestled in the distance.
Putting it together would probably take at least an hour or two at a normal pace, given the sheer complexity of the image. It's so old that there is no note of how many pieces it has on the exterior artwork, and the corners of the box are exceedingly abraded, evidence that it was made by hand.
Sasuke delicately lifts the lid off to peer into the container, to determine whether the pieces themselves are in good condition. They appear to be intact, tiny interlocking shapes made of pale birch. When he shifts the box slightly to ascertain how many fragments there are, he notes that some of the pieces are more artfully cut rather than all being the typical jigsaw shape: a flag, a tamagaki fence, and a wave shape catch his eye on top of the pile. He makes a rough deduction that it's at least six or seven hundred pieces, possibly more.
He rakes his gaze over the imagery prior to replacing the lid and shifting the box into his arm. Even if he's wrong and Sakura isn't the type to like puzzles, he could do it on his own, if she's at work and it's too hot to spar responsibly with Naruto.
He looks around for a bit longer before heading back to Sakura, sifting back between aisles of eroded empty tea canisters, outdated maps, and worn blankets piled high. He's amused to find her in exactly the same position he left her in, only now she's foraged deeper into the book's pages, finger flowing down the page to mark her spot as she reads.
She glances up when she sees him approach as if she's been snapped out of a daydream.
"Ah, sorry, Sasuke-kun; I lost track of time," she says, rising with a sheepish expression and closing the book before pulling it to her chest.
"It's fine," he reassures her. Jade eyes hone in on what's in his arm.
"Found something?" She questions, seeming genuinely inquisitive. He holds the puzzle box forward so she can see the design.
"A puzzle," she recognizes softly, gaze rising to his face. "Looks like a hard one."
He hesitates for only a second in advance of answering.
"...I don't have any board games."
Sakura's smile widens, dimple winking into existence.
"I like puzzles," she murmurs. "I haven't done one so complicated in a while. It sounds fun."
He exhales a little, reticence alleviated, before nodding, and they go back down the stairs together.
"Aha! Thought you might be interested in that one, Sakura," Yasuo calls once they're within his line of sight. A different mechanical part is in his hand now, coiled metal with a pointed end.
"I am," Sakura answers, lips curled upwards. "It's not every day you find a second edition Kitasato."
"I figured as much when I picked it off its dusty shelf. I think it'd been sitting there awhile," the man responds, grinning and setting the part aside to reach for the lamp. His regard falls on the puzzle Sasuke is holding.
"And what do we have here? A puzzle?"
Sasuke nods, unsure what to say as he places it on the counter next to the shoji lamp to pay. He's always been bad at smalltalk.
"Well, this is a complicated one," Yasuo observes jovially, apparently unbothered by his lack of response. He slips on a pair of glasses Sasuke didn't notice before, sitting just beneath the ledge of the desk. He then pulls out a receipt book from below the counter and begins writing itemized descriptions and pricing on the pad of paper. "This one's been sitting on the shelf for quite a while, too. It'll be good for it to get some use! They just don't make them like this anymore. Did you see the special pieces?" Crinkled eyes look up from the pad of paper as he tears it off to give Sasuke his copy in exchange for his payment; Sasuke finds himself nodding once.
As Yasuo turns to open the money box behind him to count out change, apparently satisfied with his answer, he speaks again.
"So, tell me. Which of you is better at puzzles?" He chuckles. "My Kyoko always whoops me, though I s'pose her eyesight has always been better than mine. I pay her back by beating her at koi-koi. She's no good at cards, you see."
Sasuke blinks, looking to Sakura, who has wandered down the counter to peer at the items contained within the glass, book clutched to her chest. He can't quite see what's within the display at the end from this angle.
There's a lengthy moment of silence. Yasuo smiles and calls her name again, a little louder but still politely.
"Sakura?"
She straightens back to her full height, surprised.
"Hm?" She asks, and he notices her skin is rosy. Maybe it's due to the quick transition from the marginally warmer upstairs to the cooler air down here on the main floor.
"I asked which of you is better at puzzles," Yasuo repeats kindly.
Jade eyes briefly land on Sasuke again before a wide grin overtakes her.
"I'm sure Sasuke is," she murmurs, wearing an expression that is startlingly fond, to the extent that it catches him a bit off guard in its intensity. "Especially ones that are so complicated. I only do easier ones with kids at the Clinic."
Interesting. He didn't know that about her.
"Ah, so modest," Yasuo laughs as she comes back to the main area of the counter. "What's the trade off?"
"...She's better at chess and go," Sasuke offers quietly without thinking, still focused intently on the crimson ebbing at the concaves of her cheeks.
Sakura flushes darker at the compliment, pupils snapping to him as Yasuo comments, "Ahhh, of course! Games of strategy." He dispenses Sasuke's change prior to scribbling out the beginnings of a sale receipt for Sakura's book. "I suppose being a doctor is just one big challenge of strategy a lot of the time, if one really thinks about it."
"...I suppose it is," Sakura agrees, peeking up at Sasuke again before pulling out her money.
Sakura bids Yasuo goodbye after paying, and the bell atop the door chimes as it shuts behind them. Though they've only been inside for an hour or so, the heat has intensified. The sweltering contrast is instant as they make their way back to his apartment building.
"You give me a run for my money in board games," Sakura contends, a slight teasing lilt to her voice as she looks up at him from his right.
Sasuke snorts.
"You've beaten me at chess twelve times, and seven times at go."
Her facial expression drops into one of surprise as her step falters for a second. He would stop and wait, somewhat amused, but she recovers quickly.
"...I didn't realize we were keeping track," she says with a laugh; it makes the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. "But we've also had at least three or four draws in chess."
"...Four," he confirms, smirking now as she blinks again in surprise. It's so Sakura to be able to be teased about her own victories; she really is too modest about her accomplishments.
She teasingly bumps her shoulder against his good bicep in response, currently curled around the lamp and puzzle box. Even through the fabric of his sleeve, he greedily memorizes the points of contact.
"Four in less than two months is nothing to sneeze at," she insists. "It's been years since I was forced into a draw with anyone."
"...I can see why," he ribs, wholeheartedly entertained and simultaneously feeling a small amount of sympathy for whoever her previous opponents have been. "You take no prisoners."
"Are you saying you want me to go easy on you next time?" She taunts without an inch of bite, grinning up at him with cheeks the same color as her hair.
Sasuke loves her smile - he always has - but the intensity with which he loves being the cause of it so regularly is something else entirely.
"No," he responds after a beat. He genuinely likes the challenge.
"Then don't go easy on me today," she responds as they turn off the main road, gaze settling down briefly to the box in his arm. "I can only imagine how good at puzzles you must be."
He adjusts it in his hand, a wave of nerves cresting inside his chest as his apartment building comes within view further down the road.
"...We'll see." He manages to sound a lot more confident than he feels.
Sakura follows him up the iron steps and down the landing to the last door on the right. Thankfully there are no run-ins with his neighbor. He moves to set down his things so that he can procure the key from his pocket, but Sakura extends her free arm to him as he's about to do so.
"I've got it," she offers kindly, offering him upturned lips.
It helps dull the edge of the trepidation a bit. Pulling out his key and unlocking the door, he pushes it open before retrieving his things from Sakura.
"...The tour's short," he states as she follows him inside, echoing her words from weeks ago and trying again to ascertain what it must look like from a guest's point of view as he sets his things on the kitchen table. She idles behind him politely as he slips off his sandals to push against the wall, doing the same with her own footwear before she follows his example again by placing her book on the kitchen table.
Flipping the overhead light on, he turns to face her, finding verdant eyes scanning the space. She looks slightly befuddled; he assumes it's due to the open bedroom door directly in their trajectory of sight.
Too late to second guess now. He busies himself by turning the thermostat up three degrees, still concerned it might be too cold for her.
Then jade meets charcoal, and a blinding smile overtakes her face.
His heart rate slows a tiny smidgen.
"...The kitchen," he murmurs somewhat ironically, gesturing with his shoulder to the expanse of counter to his right, cupboards and stove and refrigerator in plain view from where they're both standing.
Her smile pulls wider, so he takes a few steps, motioning for her to follow with his other shoulder. He rounds the couch to enter the living room.
"...Living room," he says, nudging his head in the general direction of the small sofa, end table, and chair that came with the place. Sakura comes around the furniture also, taking in the mostly bare space and focusing briefly on the large window that overlooks the street below.
A brevity passes in which her eyes linger there before coming back to him expectantly, so he retraces his steps around the corner of the sofa and she follows, hands clasped at her back.
"Laundry closet," he offers, gesturing to the door that conceals the washing machine as they pass it, coming upon his bedroom.
"...Bathroom's attached to the bedroom," he tells her. The door to the bathroom is open as he left it, but he specifies, anyway. "Through that door."
He tries very pointedly as she takes in everything to not think about what has occurred in this room, the noctuaries during which he's been cloaked in sorrow or hopelessness or guilt or ustulation at the thought of her. His feet carry him to the bathroom threshold instead, fixating on empty tile flooring, then the texture of the walls. He wonders what she thinks of it as she trails after him, apparently taking a moment to scan his bedroom and then peeking into the bathroom. It's probably not what she would have chosen for her own place, he realizes as her head turns to survey the interior, taking stock of the layout. He assumes she likes baths, given the lamp and table in her own bathroom, and he has no bathtub here; just the shower.
"It's nice," Sakura compliments kindly, fingers fidgeting as she turns to offer him a smile that is somehow both shy and beaming. It makes him relax a little more, heartbeat slowing from its previous careening rib to rib.
He begins the short stride back to the kitchen, turning away to some extent and taking a meager amount of steps before the words leave his mouth.
"...Yours is nicer."
He's not sure what she anticipated he would say, but it clearly wasn't that; he hears her stride falter, and when he pauses to glance behind him, her eyes are owlishly round.
The edge of his mouth twitches upwards as he resumes his path to the kitchen. After a beat, he hears her feet pad lightly on the wood floors, following him.
Sasuke examines the table once they're back in the dining area, trying to gauge if it's large enough for the puzzle and concurrently being somewhat distracted by the fact that the lamp looks like it belongs there; he'll have to slide it against the wall later, but it's near the perfect size.
Sakura comes to stand beside him. "...We could maybe set it up in the living room?" She suggests softly, apparently of the same mind.
He nods, picking up the box and highly cognizant of how it feels in his palm as Sakura leads the way back to the area in front of the window. He empties the pieces onto the floor, arranging the lid with the reference image to his right, turned so that they both can see it to refer to. Sakura sits across from him with her legs both tucked simply to the side.
The manner in which she begins is different than he would, and he somehow realizes in that moment that he's never put a puzzle together purely for fun, at least not that he can remember. Traditionally he'd just start with a corner piece and work from one side to the other, finding the sections that match up as he goes, working through the next logical step in visual patterns. Sakura, however, rifles through the pieces, beginning to sort them by content or shape. The edges are first, plucked neatly into a rather large pile. He begins to help her with organizing the more unique shapes into their own section; he palms the flag, fence, and wave he identified briefly earlier, as well as other specialized shapes: a stick of dango, a flower, a tree, a fish, a saké bottle. Sakura adds a teacup shape she pulls from the bottom of the pile, as well as a bird in flight, a rice plant, and a seven-pointed star.
After the specialized shapes are sorted, she begins organizing the rest of the interior bits by imagery; broken parts of arrows in one pile, white horses in another, black horses in a third, greenery in a fourth. Soon there are diminutive mountains of pieces dotting the mid-toned wood all around them.
"Do you want to start on one half, and I'll do the other?" She challenges following the sorting.
"...Sure," he agrees absentmindedly, absorbed in the glow of her eyes and the way her lips haven't dropped from a smile since they walked in the door and just the sight of her here in his living room in general, a splash of vibrant viridescence in his muted apartment.
He feels… comfortable, somehow. Less nerves, although he'll admit there is something stirring behind his ribs for a different reason, at the recall of past experience.
It doesn't take him long to become immersed, eager for the action and analysis to overtake the memories. Despite the fact that he deeply resented the pressure that initially came with it, he supposes the Uchiha having their children complete puzzles is an overall well-founded tradition. Finding visual patterns is in his blood.
He finds an upper edge piece and begins working outward from there, interlocking sections of the sky and gauzy clouds, followed by sharp points of arrows flying. He's already sliding together bits of the tallest trees' greenery and armored helmets on the upper right side by the time Sakura has her lower left corner completed: a lone warrior atop horse and grass.
"As I thought," Sakura says, smiling fondly still, "You're too good at this."
In response, he slowly but surely slides a black horse's foot into its interlocking place by her completed grass with an entirely blank face. Sasuke revels in how she bites her lip in a grin, exhaling through her nose as if trying to contain her laughter.
"...Who's Kitasato?" He questions after more minutes of calm pass and he's half finished with the upper sky. He is both genuinely curious and also wanting some conversation to force his mind far afield from the memories that are lurking at the joints of his consciousness, visions of a much younger Itachi soaked in the afternoon refulgence from their living room window.
Kindhearted green eyes flick up to him before she returns to trying to allocate a tree trunk.
"Kitasato," she begins softly, expression shifting to something more thoughtful, "Was the first president of the International Medical Association. A bacteriologist, co-discoverer of the infectious agent of bubonic plague. He also developed antitoxins. He basically…" Her voice trails off as she apparently gives up on the tree trunk piece, sifting through the grass pile instead as she shakes her head. "Well, he wasn't the only one involved, of course, but he essentially invented the fields of bacteriology and serotherapy."
Sasuke blinks, trying and failing to place the word.
"...Serotherapy?" He feels he should know what it means, but it isn't coming to him.
Her face shifts upwards, and her pupils focus on him again. "Serum therapy. Treatment of disease by the injection of serum containing the antibodies for the disease."
Ah. Her unabashed interest makes perfect sense.
"...Rare, then," he says, placing another piece.
"Very rare," she confirms. "I've only ever seen the sixth edition. This one has more of his original notes included. It basically chronicles the discovery of an entire branch of the medical field. It's fascinating."
He reflects on that briefly, placing several more notches of sky in line with each other.
"...Do you want to read here, after dinner?" He asks her carefully, staring at the developing image before him.
Her response is immediate, albeit delivered in a hushed voice.
"Of course I do, Sasuke-kun."
Concord washes over him heel to throat as he meets her gaze. There is only ardency there, sweetness swimming in fathomless green as it always has. Sakura wears her heart on her sleeve, or maybe on her bare wrist on days that are warmer.
He doesn't know why he worried.
It feels a little like an homage, when he realizes he can see perfectly where the seven-pointed star will fit. The rest of the blue falls into place easily by process of elimination. Sasuke adjusts where's he's seated marginally so that he's closer to the middle of the puzzle.
"Help me find the spot for this fish piece?" Sakura questions, holding her hand outwards.
He acquiesces, meeting her halfway.
The rest of the afternoon flies by in a pleasant blur, finding each piece's rightful order in the grand scheme of things. It had around seven hundred and fifty pieces, in the end. It takes longer doing it with Sakura than it would have on his own, but he hardly minds.
It was fun.
Once the picture is completed, she shifts around slightly to stretch her limbs, and he trains his vision on the image in front of them to avoid getting caught up in the view of the long length of leg her skirt provides.
"Well, I think you could have had it done at least thirty minutes ago if I wasn't helping…" She begins, tone teasing, "But it was a lot of fun. The specialized pieces are really unique."
He nods as he checks the hour marked on the clock; it's just under a half hour to five.
"...We could start dinner?" Sasuke suggests.
Sakura agrees, and they meticulously begin disassembling the wooden fragments together to be returned to the box. It finds a home on the end table in the living room.
For now, he thinks, feeling remarkably light as he trails to the kitchen, Sakura close behind him.
He retrieves the refrigerated ingredients first, pulling out the chicken from where it's been defrosting on the top shelf.
"I can cut," Sakura offers, smiling still, as if slicing food items here under hard lighting in a fundamentals-only kitchen is the most exciting prospect in the world.
A moment passes, and then he realizes that although the knives are in sight within their block on the counter, she doesn't know which cupboard the cutting board is in.
"Upper right," he says, pointing to the cabinet second from the top. He makes sure she locates it before he turns back to the fridge, grabbing an onion and the carton of eggs. Seasonings are pulled out next, liquids organized in the door portion of the refrigerator and spices from the adjacent shelf. The sound of a knife against the specialized cutting board fills the room as Sakura begins to slice the chicken thighs diagonally.
The main portion of the meal comes together pretty quickly between the two of them, as has become their routine, albeit it being interesting to try it in a new space. The chicken and onions are placed in the pan, sizzling with half of the sauce he's mixed up, so he opens another cupboard to take down one of his bags of rice: short grain goes with oyakodon nicely. He measures out twice the amount he normally does as Sakura watches, setting it to cook.
All there's left to do after that is wait. They stand there quietly, leaning against the counters as the smell of frying chicken and savory onions fills the air.
"You have a lot of different kinds of rice."
He blinks at her slowly. Her gaze travels from him, to the cupboard said food item is contained within, then back to him, and he supposes he does have four varieties on hand now; he's been trying to eat some form of it with every meal he can stomach for the extra calories, so each bag is missing a significant chunk of its original contents.
"I can pick up some wild rice, if you want. To…" She pauses as if to gauge his reaction, caring as ever. "Well, just to keep on hand. If you like it."
He debates inwardly on the locution he should choose, endeavoring to abandon his hesitance.
"...My doctor said I should gain weight," he tacitly divulges, clearly enunciating every word.
The smile she gifts him with at that statement is so soft, teeming with pride and care; he is struck by the notion that though he has directly referenced her profession, it is somehow not at all that of clinician Sakura.
"Your doctor, huh?" She teases placidly, faintly biting her lip in an unabashed grin as her palms clasp behind her back.
His chest smolders, right where his heart is. And maybe it's the smell of dinner sizzling in the pan, about to be shared with someone he deeply cares about, or maybe it's the fact that they've just spent the entire afternoon doing something that he used to do as a child, something that unprecedently felt fun and didn't gnaw at his insides nearly as much as it used to, but…
He pokes her forehead, fingers tapping the diamond seal gently but purposefully.
Her expression transforms into shocked surprise, looking almost as stunned as she did the first and only other occasion he's done this.
It gives him the extra courage he needs to articulate what he's thinking. It's just two more words, though they barely seem to scratch the surface of what she is to him.
"...My girlfriend."
Then she's really red.
"Oh. Um."
He quickly abandons any attempt to hold back his amused smirk. She's so easily flustered. To her credit, he supposes he hasn't vocalized it quite this openly as of yet.
He carefully lets his hand fall, taking an absurd amount of pride in the pleased smile playing at her lips.
"Oh," she repeats, this time with more of a note of finality than surprise, cheeks flooded roseate.
They place their plates and silverware at the table, once the food's ready. Prior to taking a seat, Sasuke adjusts the lamp so that it sits flush with the wall, well out of the way of their food. He then reaches to turn it on, light flooding the apex of the surface.
The change causes an idea to occur to him; it seems he's full of them today. Ahead of second guessing himself, he reaches across the wall nearby to flip off the kitchen bulbs overhead.
Better, he thinks, seeing Sakura's face aglow, shadows lingering just at the edge of her cheekbone and irises catching an anomalously beautiful tilleul.
She doesn't say much, but she keeps sneaking looks at him as they eat, and she's still blushing. He can see it in the scant amount of lamp glow engraving her face auric, a supernal soft in previously vacuous space.
Following the conclusion of their shared meal and the completion of washing the dishes together, he appraises the living room, ample sun streaming in through the window.
"...We could have sencha," he offers quietly. "If you want."
Green eyes flash with radiance as she agrees.
He neglects to turn the overhead kitchen light back on and brews it under lamplight instead, setting out the small package of sugar and a spoon for her. He'll have to get a container of honey to keep on hand, he thinks, when he's at the market next. Some sweeter varieties of tea, too.
They take their first sips in the kitchen's ambience, miniscule billows of steam slowly rising from simplistic mugs.
"It's good," Sakura compliments, a soft smile still adorning her face. "Thank you."
They read until he's nearly finished with Interlocking Maps, situated at opposite ends of the couch. It's a good book, auspicious in immersing the reader in the successes of its protagonists and illustrative in its florid vocabulary. He only looks up from its pages to admire her a few times, evanescent sunlight painting Sakura in minutiae of peach.
It's different, he finds, to kiss her good night at the edge of his kitchen, lamplight clinquant in the umbratical fathoms of his apartment. He lets his mouth linger on hers for longer than he has thus far, fingers gliding by her cheek.
Sakura does something new.
Gentle fingertips trace upwards from his shoulders, skimming his neck carefully, almost hesitant, before settling in the hair at his nape, careful pressure to pull him closer. Her fingers sift slightly through it, thumb and index tracing nonsensical patterns softly against his dark locks.
Sasuke swallows prior to dipping his head again, greatly enjoying the sensation, a susurrus of endearment at his nape that makes his breath feel caught in his lungs just as much the second time.
And the third.
"Good night, Sasuke-kun," she murmurs following the fourth one, cheeks rapt with currant red and only pulling her hand back a significant number of seconds after speaking, as if the separation is an unwanted afterthought. "Thank you for inviting me. I had fun."
"...Good night, Sakura," he whispers, hopelessly entranced, not trusting himself to speak beyond that with a level voice.
He stands near the entryway for a long while once the door clicks shut behind her, alembic and really trying to soak in what he's currently feeling, to put a name to it, this trace of tart berry sieving through the air that was previously multihued in only shades of tenebrose.
A poem comes to mind.
Take notice of what light does - to everything.
His apartment feels a small increment better, the ignominy of his neighbor and her child pulled out to sea, made inconsequential in the face of new mettle and wherewithal. He thinks it has little to do with the lamp and more to do with the sight of seafoam and dry land.
It's the first time since his initial week back that the space feels temporary.
For now.
He leaves it switched on, inveterate paper glowing brightly in evening's gloam, when he goes to water the lilies, the skin at the base of his neck still gooseflesh from her touch.
AN:The beginnings of the plot is finally being revealed... if you squint. Like really squint.
I reworked this chapter a lot because I wasn't quite satisfied with it. I hope it was worth the wait? Now that it's summer, I have a bit more time to write, and I'm excited to see how much I can plunk out in the next two and a half months.
I have to say, I'm a little (a lot) amazed at the downpour of kind comments I've received since I updated last. It truly kept me going through the end of the school year when it was rough for a while, so thank you to all of you who are nice humans. 3 It gave me some much-needed hope in the world. I would also like to give a special shoutout to AO3 user pcorreia for commenting something simple that took my breath away: a song that reminded them of this fic. That comment came on a really rough day, and it lifted me up, because it was such an achingly sweet song. I have since added said song to my writing playlist (J's Lullaby by Delaney Bailey), but it has made me extremely curious: are there any songs yall associate with this fic? I'm always down to listen to new music recommendations in general, but I just thought that comment was really special, so it would be fun to hear more.
Anyways. Not trying to write a book in the end notes, yet here we are. Let me know your thoughts as always, and stay safe! 3