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.

18. Correlations

AN: I come to you 9 graduate school credits richer, carpal tunnel anew in tow. Happy Sasusaku Month! More comments at the end. TW: Mentions of cutting. No actual cutting occurs, just thoughts about it.

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Chapter 18: Correlations

"Man, do you guys feel like the Chunin Exams sort of crept up on us like an ambush, or what?!"

Sasuke watches as Naruto slides the menu back across the red currant counter to Ayame, his order finally decided after a lengthy debate with himself on the best choice. Tomorrow, he, Kakashi, and the rest of the Leaf's representatives are to depart, and thus his teammate won't be having Ichiraku's for at least a couple of weeks.

The dobe's shoulders are still visibly sagging from whatever demanding fate he must have met today in the Hokage's Office; Sasuke assumes endless meetings and assisting with paperwork to make certain all affairs are in order prior to exodus to Sand.

Sakura hadn't looked much better than Naruto when he met her at the hospital just after seven. Though she'd perked up as soon as she spied him waiting outside the hospital's front double doors, Sasuke has a sneaking suspicion that she'd put in a rather lengthy day herself, given her drooping shoulders and a few more loose flyaway pink hairs fluttering in the wind than usual. He knows by now that her typical workday on Tuesdays venture from around eleven to seven, but from the sluggish pace she set on the way here and her initial squinting at the sky, he concludes that she had probably been cooped up there since close to dawn. It can only signify that whatever projects she's focused on are picking up momentum, though to what ends she still hasn't directly specified.

"I mean, I feel like I just blinked and it's already half over. I was s'posed to help Hinata-chan plant more stuff in the garden, but it was too wet, and now it won't get done 'til we get back, yeah? And I've been cooped up ALL. DAY. My hand hurts from all the paperwork!" The dobe rotates his left wrist as if to illustrate his point, grimacing in discomfort.

While it's not unusual for Kakashi to be late, Sasuke thinks perhaps there is a good reason for once. Naruto had been sent ahead straight from the office only a few minutes after Sasuke and Sakura arrived, and they themselves were a little tardy. They'd found Sai already waiting in his usual spot, four seats to the artist's left reserved with various drawing pencils, each adorned with labels denoting the quality of the interior graphite inside.

"Eh… sort of?" Sakura's voice sounds hesitant from his other side, prompting him to look her way.

When she makes eye contact with him, her pink brows arch in surprise; clearly she didn't expect his direct attention.

"Uh-" She redirects her attention to the interior of the restaurant, cheeks flushing pink as he clocks a stab of distinctly masculine pride, apparently having garnered her preoccupation to the point of distraction.

"Er, well. I just…" Sakura begins, her fingers drumming lightly on the table as if trying to regain her train of thought. Slender fingers twitch upward in the air once as she apparently grasps whatever got away from her. "The hospital sort of feels like a blur right now, especially with Shizune helping with duties, so I can see what you mean?" She leans back a little on her stool as Sasuke blinks, perplexed. "I mean, I'm not as focused on the Chunin Exams, obviously, but it does sort of feel like we're fast-forwarding through June."

Sasuke reflects back on the handful of occasions he's visited the Hokage's Office since Shizune's return to Konoha. He wasn't under the impression that the woman was helping at the hospital, but he realizes now that he hasn't seen her in Kakashi's office other than when they returned from the mission in the Lands of Fields and Rivers.

Hm. He wonders what sort of duties Shizune has been helping with, brow furrowing slightly. Perhaps she'll step in to help Kakashi after their departure tomorrow, but he's not sure what the woman would be helping Sakura with in the meantime, especially given that she's been bringing more work home this month than the prior two. Perhaps she's overseeing administrative tasks to free up additional hours of Sakura's time. He's pretty certain he glimpsed a hospital schedule rough draft intermingled with a stack of papers at her apartment once, margins teeming with a hurried version of her usually careful handwriting.

"I also perceive June as passing quickly," Sai adds, voice monotone and not glancing up from whatever he's sketching. "Though I have utilized my time quite wisely to progress towards new pieces and to bond with allies."

Though he vocalizes none of it, Sasuke also is in agreement. It does feel as though the month is slipping by. He supposes that isn't likely to change in the coming weeks; the monotony of guard duty will make the days blend together. Choji mentioned this afternoon that the weather forecast wasn't looking particularly pleasant.

"Heat, endless heat," he'd bemoaned quietly between bites of freshly-seared barbecue. "At least today there's a breeze." Sasuke had brought his own ingredients today to contribute to the mix, discreetly stored in a separate container just in case the cooking on site was a one-time occasion and not a daily occurrence. He'd been appreciative to learn that Akimichi traditions seem to be a daily endeavor, commencing promptly and routinely at noon. The green onions and mushrooms from his own fridge intermingled with the meat his watch partner brought rather nicely. He's not quite sure where the Shinobi sources his high-quality ingredients from, but if he's going to offer lunch each day, Sasuke figures it's only polite to contribute. Perhaps he'll take a closer look at the quality or farm sourcing labeled atop the package the next time he's at the market with Sakura; he rarely reads them unless searching for something in particular.

"Hey, that reminds me…" Naruto's voice trails off, prompting Sasuke to spare a glance to his left.

The dobe then points at him with a lone accusatory finger, at which Sasuke heaves an irritated sigh.

"You got out of getting shit-faced! Not fair! So, when we get back from Sand, we're getting a do-over!"

Sasuke rolls his eyes before deadpanning the response he's had prepared for this particular conversation for the past handful of days.

"Over my dead body."

A scowl is his teammate's immediate response.

"Nuh-uh! You don't get out of it that easily! I won, fair and square, believe it-"

"And I went," Sasuke mutters in response, mirroring the dobe's expression, though he imagines his own rendition packs more punch solely from years of practice. "Fair and square."

"Only because Sakura-chan was there!" And Sasuke's eye twitches as he simultaneously notes that Sakura's cheeks flood with color all over again in his peripheral vision, because for once his idiot teammate is dead-on, but he doesn't necessarily want his business broadcasted to everyone within hearing distance. "Next time, it's guys only!"

This cues Sai's head to attention, briefly stolen from whatever he's sketching.

"We shall have to invite Hokage-sama, then, Dickless."

Sasuke snorts, Sakura rolls her eyes despite her cheeks still holding telltale pink, and Naruto's sandal, predictably, flies.

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

Although the volume of Naruto's indignation ventures close to rupturing his eardrums, Sasuke will secretly admit that he has been craving this kind of distraction. In the solitary hour that passed following his duty dismissal, he managed to occupy himself with tasks well enough - a lengthy shower of scrubbing and laying out laundry prior to reading - but he thinks it's best he's not on his own for long stretches of time at present. Being around his teammates offers more stability, and, more importantly, less time for him to stew on emotions he doesn't feel equipped to handle.

Avoidance and delaying the inevitable aren't good solutions, he knows, but they are the ones he's most practiced in. He also knows from experience that not all conundrums have solutions; sometimes, to pass the minutes and make it through the day, diversion is all there is to do. The sheer number of hours he clocked training beyond the age of seven through his mid-teenage years are proof enough of that.

As if to prove Sasuke's point on deflection, Sai catches the sandal this time and promptly sends it careening halfway down the block with a well-aimed flick of his wrist. Naruto grumbles as he flash steps to collect it, muttering something about always being outnumbered.

A calm voice materializes behind them in the other direction, away from said rollicking: "I've told you, Sai; Kakashi is fine. No need for formalities."

Their old sensei lackadaisically strolls into Ichiraku's and carefully rolls the pencil saving his seat all the way down the red currant counters to the artist, who promptly stashes it back in the canvas bag he brings for such supplies. Meanwhile, Naruto returns to his own seat in Sasuke's peripheral vision.

Sai nods towards their sensei, then frowns down at his sketchbook as if he's dissatisfied with whatever he's drawn; Sasuke still can't really see what it is from the angle he's at. The ninja then carefully closes the pad of paper and pushes it aside.

Carefully closing the pad of paper and pushing it aside, the artist then asks, "So when will this gathering happen?" His dark eyes are assessing as he surveys Naruto, then Kakashi, and then, ultimately, Sasuke, who swallows another sigh, because now his only hope of escaping said activities, Naruto's shit memory, has eluded him. "There are things I would like to discuss with Traitor when he is more forthcoming."

Sasuke keeps his face carefully blank, but he expressly dislikes that sentence. Sakura, meanwhile, shakes her head as if she somehow knows what Sai's implying and finds it silly, which prompts him to study his girlfriend curiously.

"Oh? Such as?" Kakashi asks, voice curious and saving Sasuke the trouble of responding.

Sai casts a long look towards each of them, particularly at Sasuke as if he's a chunk of puzzle and staring at him will help him determine if he's a center, edge, or corner piece. Stupid metaphor, Sasuke admonishes inwardly. Anyone who's ever been around him for longer than five seconds could clock him as a corner piece cast aside from the beginning of the floor's collective, or, more fitting yet, some random chunk from another puzzle that was stowed in the incorrect box.

"Such as the type of art Traitor truly likes," the artist eventually puts forth, expression gravely serious.

Sasuke frowns; he expected Sai to proclaim intention to grill him on the details of his past involvement with Orochimaru or the Akatsuki, not something as irrelevant as which visual imagery he likes.

"I picked one," he states in a neutral tone, though even as he says it, he also distinctly remembers thinking that the one he chose revealed the least about himself.

"You picked the obvious one," Sai counters, at which point Sasuke's frown sinks deeper. "A falcon. It's a well-executed piece, but utilitarian." Dark eyes flick briefly to Sakura, then return to him. "Ugly told me you have a hawk."

At Sakura's nickname, his frown reaches the seabed and irritation gnaws.

Reign it in.

"...I do." It's not a secret.

"He does," Kakashi adds in a knowing tone that Sasuke mislikes. "Very useful for carrying messages back and forth."

The implication that's there is tangible for anyone with half a brain to dissect. It's especially tangible for Sasuke, who can count on his lone remaining hand how many times he sent or received correspondence to and from Kakashi in the months he was away. It's clearly tangible for Sakura, too, if her cheeks and neck suddenly matching her hair are anything to go by.

Reign it in.

Sai then does that peculiar smile he does, which further rubs Sasuke the wrong way, because he gathers it to mean that, unlike Naruto, Sai does have half a brain and uses it regularly for critical thinking.

"You may recall that I did not ask for which piece you found the most autobiographical. I asked which was your favorite."

"What's that mean?" Naruto interrupts in a whiny voice that dispels any illusion of extensive vocabularic repertoires to be found in their future Hokage, though Sasuke will admit it diffuses the small bit of mounting tension. He turns the dobe's way just so in hopes of diversion.

"It means dealing with one's own personal experiences," Kakashi chimes in cheerfully, appearing for all intents and purposes to be grandly enjoying this conversation. "Or what's familiar to a person."

Sasuke shoots Kakashi his most withering look. As usual, it does nothing to dispel his stupid grin beneath the mask.

"Well, then, what's so bad about that?! Pictures of animals can be sorta… cool. Hinata-chan took one of Hanabi's tomcat right before it got me good. It turned out kinda blurry when she went to get it developed yesterday, but…" The dobe then proceeds to roll up his very orange sleeve, revealing several very red scratches. Given what Sasuke has gathered of the Kyuubi's healing capabilities, the initial claw marks must have been considerably deep. Despite said abilities, each line is inflamed and angry.

"Naruto, those are clearly infected," Sakura admonishes, wearily shaking her head. She reaches past Sasuke's vicinity, stretching to snatch the dobe's arm with fingers already glowing green. "Did you even rinse them?"

"Nah, Sakura-chan, I never bother cleaning them! It builds resistance! Kiba even told me so. He said he lets Akamaru scratch him all the time and that's how he never gets sick, and how he got all those cool scars! He's been doing it for years." The fool then attempts to wrench his arm away from Sakura, at which point she properly tightens her grip and brings her other hand into the fold.

"That is unequivocally not how that works." Inwardly, Sasuke agrees, and considers adding that he's being especially stupid given that the Kyuubi also prevents him from catching so much as a cold anyway, sparing deadly infections. A particularly nasty round of the flu had taken out all of them save the dobe once, when they were younger, Kakashi included. It had delayed the travel of the mission they were on by a week.

"Un-equal what now-"

"And I suppose your wife knows about these scratches, then, and won't be stuck cleaning them after a long journey to Suna?" Sakura inquires, causing Sasuke to clutch back the admonishment in favor of focusing on the fact that his girlfriend seems to feel perfectly comfortable encroaching his space to this extent, and the pleased feeling at said knowledge that's hovering behind his ribs, wrestling his practiced insults into submission.

The dobe, to his credit, at least has the decency to look abashed at her chiding.

"Well, uh… Hinata-chan might not know about 'em yet. She was sorta busy when it happened." Naruto scratches his head, his expression sheepish. "She cleaned 'em too soon last time… She was just trying to help, but I really think-"

The verdant glowing emanating from Sakura's fingers increases in intensity.

"I don't think you have ever thought anything when it comes to injury, and that is the problem, Naruto. The Kyuubi's healing abilities can stop the bleeding and prevent scarring, but as we've discussed on several occasions, it doesn't prevent you from getting sepsis-"

Sasuke is temporarily transported back to their time as a Genin squad, Naruto and Sakura bickering and Sasuke inadvertently caught in the crossfire as Kakashi chuckles fondly from a distance, just like he is now.

"...Hawks and falcons are different species, and pine trees aren't in abundance in Konoha," he decides to counter quietly, briefly making eye contact with Sai and hoping he'll drop the subject in favor of this easy new carrot of a conversation. Sai is a part of their team, but that doesn't mean the artist needs to know everything about him. It was challenging enough to explain that which is personal to him to a creative tradesman once, and that was with a person in mind that more than warranted the effort and explanation. Currently, there is no need to endure that sort of quandary again, as said person is at present situated in the closest seat to his immediate right with glowing green hands.

He wonders if it's normal to find a woman attractive even when she's scolding someone. The freckle on her left cheekbone contorts a little when her jaw clenches, he's noticed.

Sai's gaze lingers on him for several long seconds before the artist redirects his dark stare to Naruto, and Sasuke internally breathes a sigh of relief.

"Dickless, I believe Kiba is doing what is called 'fucking with you'," Sai says in a tone that sounds only slightly off from helpful. "Though the word here does not actually mean fornication; it is a figure of speech that means he is not being truthful. Ugly is correct in that you must learn how to think critically and deduce whether someone is being sincere…"

Naruto somehow manages to both pout and glare kunai at Sai for the remainder of his unnecessary explanation. In the meantime, Sakura neatly finishes healing the scratches and, he assumes, any lingering complications with them. It is at this point that the majority of their food arrives, bowls swimming with broth slid neatly in front of them, save for Kakashi's.

Sakura throws him a swift sheepish glance reminiscent of an apology as she retreats out of his immediacy, cheeks flushing as if she's just realized how much she's infringed on his personal space.

Ah. She didn't realize. He's not sure if he's amused or disappointed.

He wants to tell her it's fine, but he also doesn't wish to draw attention to it. Sasuke settles on holding her attention briefly, hoping his expression is enough to communicate that he didn't mind it.

He's certain she understands when she shyly averts her eyes, high cheekbones coloring further and corners of her mouth lifting.

The hakata tonkotsu is good as it always is once he's tried it, satisfied he's communicated what he needs to, but Ichiraku's doesn't hold a candle to Choji's cooking. Given Naruto's impending absence, he supposes he won't be eating here for a while. He ponders whether Choji incorporates ginger in his blend of spices, or if perhaps he treats the meat with it beforehand. He's certain there was a hint of it in there somewhere.

"Hey," a somewhat familiar voice cuts in just as Ayame slides Kakashi's own bowl - also hakata tonkotsu - in front of him.

All of them turn to see none other than the delegate from Sand, Temari, a hand raised in greeting. She's clutching an assortment of items in her left hand: a book, a stack of papers, and a transparent bag of some sort of snack food rich in color that appears to be from the market, dark brown.

"Lord Hokage," she addresses formally, gaze cycling through all of them in quick succession, accompanied by acknowledgment via a nod.

"Temari!" Naruto half-says, half-coughs; he apparently swallowed the noodle he'd been chewing on too hastily, its remnants now stuck in the wrong pipe.

"Temari," Sakura and Sai speak in unison with Kakashi as the dobe clamors for his drink. The Hokage adds in a curious tone, tilting his head, "Did I forget to give you something for tomorrow's preparations?"

Shaking her head, the Sand delegate tilts her chin towards the papers. "No, nothing like that. Everything's in order." Her pupils flicker briefly to Sakura, then back to Kakashi respectfully.

"I actually need to steal Sakura for a minute if that's alright," Temari states, raising her left arm slightly, at which point Sakura sets aside her chopsticks to rise with a soft, "Oh, right!"

Sasuke observes with curiosity as Kakashi nods, turning to his bowl and giving his food a rigorous stir as the two women traverse to the space between Ichiraku's and the neighboring restaurant.

He tries not to eavesdrop, but they're really not that far away and neither of them seems concerned about masking their conversation amid the fluctuating background noises of the restaurants.

"Wanted to give it to you personally," Temari remarks, at which point Sasuke intakes a zealous bite of his food, hoping that the noise of chewing will drown out their conversation, but it doesn't. "Family secrets and all."

"Ah, thank you," Sakura says emphatically in response, sounding genuinely grateful. "It's been bugging me for forever; I really appreciate it. When do you need it back by? I'm sort of… busy at the hospital at present. Tsunade-shishou wants me to submit by July." There's a pause in which Sakura laughs a little. "Publish or perish, right? So… it might take me a bit to go through it thoroughly. I'd understand if you need it back sooner than…"

A noodle somehow slithers out of Naruto's bowl as he eats. Sasuke watches desolately as the dobe tries to stab it with his chopsticks, inching closer and closer to invading Sasuke's personal space, at which point he intends to fling it into the street.

"Eh, whenever. It's not like anyone was using it. You could keep it for a year or two and it honestly wouldn't be missed." Sai mimes an instructive motion with his chopsticks in the dobe's direction, a silent effort to help him.

"Kankuro won't care?" He hears Sakura ask, voice concerned. As Sai's attempted assistance fails, the idiot finally picks up the noodle with his fingers and slurps it into his mouth, at which point Sasuke wrinkles his nose in disgust.

"No," Temari responds, and her tone sounds almost laughing now. "He's too busy mooning over Jun to care right now. She's due to pop any day."

Sasuke steals a glance, curious who Jun is - it has to be Temari's sister-in-law, by the sound of it - and notes Sakura is smiling.

"Ah, right. Well, I can't thank you enough. I know how important it is; I'll take good care of it."

The Sand delegate waves her hand dismissively, prompting Sasuke to shift his attention back to his food.

"It's nothing. Both of my brothers owe you; it's the least we can do."

Though he's never asked her about it firsthand, Sasuke knows of Sakura's fight against Sasori of the Sand, in which she and the puppeteer Chiyo managed to save the Kazekage, but he wasn't aware Temari's other brother owed Sakura anything. Interesting. He makes a mental note to ask her about it at some point.

"Ah, okay." Sakura nods once more in the corner of his vision. "Say, any luck with..?"

There's a scoff, accompanied by a tone of voice that gives Sasuke the distinct impression that Temari of the Sand is rolling her eyes. While he hasn't been around the kunoichi other than the escort mission, that had been sufficient time to gather that while the woman is taciturn on official business, she doesn't hesitate to speak her mind and has a sarcastic streak when the opportunity arises.

"I've had better luck eradicating scorpions off my grounds armed with nothing but a slingshot," the woman retorts, voice deadpan. "And that's not a figure of speech. I've never met a person so dense, and just when I think I can't be any clearer…"

"Shoot," Sasuke hears Sakura respond as he stirs another well-distributed bite into place with his chopsticks. "Maybe before summer's over? Ino's made it her personal mission to uh… be a pest."

This for some reason elicits a snicker.

"When is she not?" The Sand delegate laughs. "We'll miss her for the Exams. Last time was a riot."

Sasuke had not gathered that as being the end of the conversation, but before Sakura's concurring chuckle has tapered off, he hears her light footsteps angle back towards the restaurant.

"Did I miss anything?" She asks, stashing the book Temari must have given her in her tote bag beneath the counter. She then resumes her station and plucks up her chopsticks.

"Dickless ate his food off the counter," Sai provides helpfully, smiling as the dobe growls at the use of the nickname again. "And though he dislikes answering questions or speaking in general, judging by his facial expression, Traitor was quite disgusted."

"It was just one noodle, Sakura-chan! Sixty second rule!" Naruto whines, shoving more food into his mouth. Then, a scheming expression replaces his glare for Sai and he quickly swallows, leaning closer into Sasuke's personal space.

"I was thinking," the dobe whispers as Sasuke leans away into Sakura's elbow room, at which point she elicits a surprised noise low in her throat that makes his stomach somersault. "Maybe tonight will finally be the time we see what's under Kakashi-sensei's mask, yeah? It's the perfect opportunity, since he just got his food-"

"Ah, what a meal, huh?" Kakashi's voice interrupts, at which point Sakura starts laughing; Sasuke can hear her as well as feel her, just shy of his shoulder. Naruto begins glowering and slowly turns.

"You know, I'm going to miss this place for a while. The food in Sand… is a bit spicy for my tastes."

Sasuke's left eye then twitches, realizing that Kakashi's bowl has been completely emptied.

"Though they do the most interesting things with their desserts there. Lots of cinnamon and clove… Candied lemon peels, eggplant, spiced chocolate… Which reminds me, Sakura..."

It is then that Sasuke realizes Sakura has had zero reaction of frustration in reference to having missed Kakashi's face once again, which can only mean one thing: she already knows what is beneath their sensei's mask.

"Not that you need it, per se, but…" Kakashi's voice trails off as he reaches into his vest and Sasuke inwardly vows to attain the information he seeks by any means necessary, later tonight at her apartment.

Their old sensei pulls out, of all things, a small stack of ume chocolate.

"Some motivation to take a break and recharge, now and then," the Hokage remarks, sliding the wrapped treats beyond the still-scowling Naruto and briefly locking eyes with Sasuke in search of aid. "A very skilled medic once told me that consuming copious amounts of sugar is the most efficient way to replenish chakra supply."

Sasuke wordlessly complies, pushing the stack of chocolate towards Sakura. It bears the same packaging as the ones in her contraband drawer.

Motivation?

Clearly amused, Sakura rolls her eyes, laughing. A smile twists into being on Sai's face beyond her, too.

"You're bribing your staff now, Kakashi-sensei?" Sakura asks, shooting Kakashi an entertained look riddled with meaning. "Reminds me of someone.

Ah. Her research. Sasuke now wonders if the medic in question was Sakura or Tsunade.

"As Hokage, I would never stoop to bribery," Kakashi says simply, tone teasing as a half-grin makes itself known beneath the mask; it wrinkles slightly at the edges. "Senseis, however, do tend to talk from time to time… I've received a report that indicates you might find a few more stacks littered throughout your office. Don't overdo it, yeah?" A pause. "And… I trust, then, that Shiruba will be well tended in my absence?"

As the sound of packaging being peeled and crumpled reaches his ears, Sasuke turns forward again, watching Sakura out of the corner of his vision; she's breaking off a piece of the chocolate, clearly intent on having some right then and there.

"Thank you, Kakashi-sensei," she says sincerely, no joking tone this time. "I appreciate the support. And yes; I'll make sure she doesn't miss you too much." Depositing the chocolate into her mouth, Sakura grins as she chews.

As the chocolate makes its soft crunching noise, he somehow manages to visualize Sakura as a Genin, poring through a stack of books in the Hokage's office with pieces of chocolate intermixed between them as incentive. Somehow he thinks the vision is not far off from reality, especially given what he now knows about her physical training being more consequence-focused; he's still not sure how he feels about her short summary of her history with returning teeth to their respective jaws.

What sort of research is she doing? Clearly it's important if both Kakashi and Tsunade are this invested in it and actively communicating about it. Sakura herself hasn't shared much about it, apart from her initial explanation of it being related to brain scans; just that it's time-consuming and now, inadvertently, that she has a deadline. Perhaps it's classified. He supposes he will add it to the list of things to ask her about later; it's a good night to get some answers, should he be invited to stay and talk.

A tap on his shoulder interrupts his thoughts of soft lips and an abundantly green balcony, and Sasuke cranes his neck left to see Naruto grinning in the exact way he dislikes.

A venomous and tetchy What dies in his mouth as the dobe tilts his head towards Kakashi.

All Shinobi are trained in the Academy to lip read. It's essential in the field when one needs the aid of stealth and surprise in order to emerge from a potential skirmish unscathed, and, given their first year as Genin, Sasuke and his other teammates are well-versed in reading their old sensei's silent words through his mask.

When she's done, Kakashi mouths silently once he's locked eyes with Sasuke, corner of his lone visible eye crinkling with utter mirth as raises his thumb to his own cheek and swipes it twice.

Heat climbs up his neck as Naruto's deafening cackle echoes through the three-mile radius.

---

"You know what's beneath Kakashi's mask?" Sasuke questions her quietly as soon as they're within the confines of her apartment, just after she's switched on her entryway lamp and slipped off her sandals.

Surprise on her face quickly evolves into a teasing grin.

"You have to promise not to tell Naruto," Sakura responds, turning slightly to deposit her tote bag on its designated hook and retrieving the book. Sasuke himself slips off his own footwear. "He doesn't know I know, and I gave Kakashi-sensei my word that I wouldn't tell him."

Sasuke shoots her an impatient look that he knows will read of course at which point her grin widens, dimple winking into existence.

"It's really not that exciting," she laughs, breezing past him with the book into the rest of her living space, a blur of desaturated pink. "Definitely not like we thought when we were kids."

She surprises him by not switching on the rest of the lights, instead venturing further into her apartment. Placing the book on the end table by the sofa, she pauses at the entryway to the kitchen, casting a glimpse over her shoulder to him.

"Tea?" She questions, tone a little teasing. The corner of his mouth twitches, but he manages to keep it in check.

"...Sure," Sasuke assents quietly, hoping this trail of clues means she intends to invite him to join her on the balcony and safe in the knowledge that the tea will be anything but jasmine. She keeps a box of it in the cabinet with the rest, but he hasn't seen her so much as touch it in the months since he returned. He's convinced she must keep it around for Ino or Sai.

He trails behind her to the kitchen, past the book, resisting the urge to decode what title lies on its spine in the dim. She casts a polite glance his way in question as she takes out the jar of Earl Grey, and he nods wordlessly, already having crossed the small space to begin filling the kettle with water. She hasn't turned the kitchen light on, but there's enough moonlight straining in the window for the space to be illuminated well enough.

Upon having pinned her with another pointed stare in the hopes that she divulge the intel, Sakura laughs once more.

"It's nothing spectacular. No giant lips or disfigurement or anything like that," she provides finally, smiling and pausing one second longer for effect. "Just a mole."

She then nonchalantly sprinkles the loose leaf mixture into the teapot strainer, as if she hasn't just dropped the most underwhelming revelation of all time, successful in making his brows furrow.

Even during his years as a defector, he'd still wondered about it occasionally, convinced that the mask had to be hiding some majorly identifying trait to warrant the constant use, even when operating in enemy territory where it would all but give away his identity, worn in combination with the hitaiate that typically obscures his left eye. Their old sensei still dons it like that most of the time even now, though Sasuke knows it's a necessary charade; it's not in Konoha's best interest for the other hidden villages to perceive that their leader has lost one of his greatest assets.

"I know," Sakura meets his eyes with a giggle, presumably at his extended silence. "It's a relief to finally be able to tell someone. I was pretty disappointed, honestly. All that work hiding his face for that?" She shakes her head. "I made him show me on the fly again the next time I saw him to make sure there was no funny business on his end, either. But nope; still the same."

"...Is it a large mole?" He questions, convinced there must be more to it. Sakura laughs again.

"Nope," she reveals, shaking her head. "Tiny, really, and totally commonplace. He just likes to seem mysterious, I think."

Sasuke frowns, scrutinizing the pale floral design of the teapot as he tries to reconcile this information. As disappointing as it is, it's entirely in line with their sensei to obscure something that doesn't need obscuring.

"When..?" He meets her gaze again only to discover she's already studying him.

He's pretty sure her cheeks flush as she looks away, apparently caught staring. His stomach flips pleasantly at the realization; he's never going to get tired of that.

"When I first watched his cat," she murmurs, shrugging before leaning against the counter as if she's suddenly aware of her fatigue all at once. "He wanted to pay me for feeding her and changing her litter. Unnecessary, but I didn't tell him that; it's good leverage to obtain information, right?"

Sasuke snorts.

"Didn't realize you dealt in secrets," he remarks quietly, tone inching somewhere close to teasing. "I'll have to watch my tongue."

Desaturated jade eyes meet his in the shades of her kitchen, partially obscured by the cast shadows of the cabinetry. Somehow the lashes of her left eye manage to catch a glint of moonlight as a long pause lingers between them.

"I would never give away any of yours," she finally says softly, a gentle smile gracing her features as she more fully leans against the counter, placing folded hands behind her back. It's that tender expression again, the one he has only ever seen her wear for him.

Something commences stirring behind the fortress of his ribs, something from the depths of his being. Slowly he relinquishes the breath that's caught in his throat.

"...I know," he acknowledges, and she nods in response, eyelids falling closed. He's known this about her for years, truth be told. Regardless, it's nice to hear it spoken, emphasized.

"...But if I asked a question and you were required to answer with honesty?" He amends, taking stock of her posture, the way she's inclined towards the counter.

The kettle begins to whistle at the same second he speaks, and green eyes pop open. There's surprise in her expression, the kind that seems to slowly morph into curiosity.

"Ask away, Sasuke-kun," she hums, shifting her weight to her other foot. "But I get to ask one in return. Same rules."

Ah. That's fair. He nods, pouring hot water into the teapot, at which her face lights up as if this arrangement delights her; clearly she hadn't expected him to agree.

The possibilities stretch before him as he considers, but he settles on the most pressing concern, the one that's been bothering him ever since she squinted at the sky outside the hospital earlier.

"...Are you overworking yourself?"

Her mouth falls open in surprise as if that's not what she expected him to ask at all. It closes a few seconds later as she chuckles, turning to grab her creamer and a lemon wedge from the fridge.

"Define overworking," she challenges, leaning against the counter once again for support as she pours a bit into her cup in preparation, stirs.

Sasuke tilts his chin in reference to her partially inclined posture, simultaneously raising a lone eyebrow.

Her lips curve further upwards as she glances down to her cup, carefully squeezing the lemon pulp until it's pressed rind to rind. She then gently slips the remains in to settle to the bottom, expression thoughtful.

"A bit, I suppose," she admits, finally pouring from the teapot to fill both of their cups prior to meeting his gaze. "...The balcony?"

His ribcage promptly goes aflame. It's not simply the pleasure of being invited into her space once more, but also the relief of an ample distraction, less time he will spend being alone with his thoughts. Usually when she invites him they end up perched there for the better part of several hours, talking or otherwise.

"...Sure."

Gauzy curtains pushed aside and a descending into greenery later, they're both seated with steaming teacups in front of them, beholding the moon against lacquered black.

"How much?" Sasuke finally asks.

Sakura looks at him quizzically before the inquiry seems to compute, at which point she sighs in a way that seems wistful.

"Probably too much, but it's for good reason," she replies with a shrug. "I've been dipping into my reserves a bit; Shizune and Kakashi-sensei don't like it when I do that regularly."

A frown creases his brow as he wonders what variety of research requires her to use chakra. He knows her more minor healing abilities don't seem to necessitate much of it at all.

His expression must paint a picture of his confusion, as she further elucidates.

"I'm sort of… dividing and conquering, so to speak. Taju Kage Bunshin no Jutsu." She takes a measured sip of her tea as he blinks, frown delving deeper and viewing her tiredness with new meaning. And even with that, she's still bringing work home…

"...It's forbidden," he remarks quietly, though it's not like something being forbidden has ever stopped any member of their team, himself least of all.

Sakura's lips twist to the side in a wry smile, a bewitching distraction even as disquiet sows itself in his stomach.

"Thus Shizune and Kakashi-sensei not liking it," she admits, setting her teacup back on the concrete. "But it's the quickest way to get things done, as it stands. And it's peacetime, anyways, so… It's not like it's a permanent situation. There's an end point, and they both know that."

"...And you're using them for..?" He briefly envisions her spreading herself between multiple patients, or perhaps a series of Sakura clones observing test subjects as more sort beakers and record notes behind her. He's certain she's never utilized a clone any of the times he's visited her at the hospital, though; he'd be able to tell, he thinks. Of anyone alive currently, he himself has the most firsthand experience in recognizing and contending with Shadow Clones. It was during combat, of course, when his guard was up, but still. Moreover, it doesn't align with her compassionate nature to delegate patient care to clones. She has good bedside manner from what he's experienced; she's not the type who would jeopardize that.

"Lots of things." She stretches her legs out sideways. "Recording observations, analyzing testing, clerical work that needs done… mostly writing and referencing, when it gets down to the actual hours, especially now that Shizune's back to help. I like to read, but I'm not that great of a writer, turns out, and I have to defer to the brain scans rather often, which means more sourcing and more texts to bring into the picture… It's not digestible for someone with no experience in neurology if we don't; it's one of the lesser studied fields."

That somehow leaves him additionally perplexed.

"And the writing..?"

She blinks, as if something just occurred to her. Then she smiles, lifting her gaze skywards briefly.

"Medical research has to be formally quantified in writing with statistical factual support and peer-reviewed evidence in order for it to mean anything to the medical community," she murmurs. "Otherwise it's not much better than hearsay or an old wives' tale. Useless."

Ah. That makes sense.

And then it clicks into place.

"...Does it have to do with the children's clinic?" He questions quietly, rifling mentally through options and thinking back to the couple of times she'd mentioned its existence in her letters. He's not sure if it's classified, but even if not, to tell him may mean to violate doctor patient confidentiality, which he's certain she would never do.

Sakura then proceeds to gawk at him with an air of bewilderment. He gets the distinct impression that she's flummoxed he remembered that. She's only mentioned it sporadically, and never with any detail about what actually goes on at said clinic other than the offhand comments about puzzles and an expansion. He's certain that to warrant opening such a place it has to be dedicated to more than just normal bumps and bruises; there'd be no reason to open up a locale specifically for that, let alone to expand it at one point.

Seconds that feel like years pass before she seems to remember that he's just asked her a question. "...Yes," she answers quietly.

Another moment ticks by in which he wonders if he should push. Curiosity ultimately gets the better of him.

"...What's the clinic for?"

Something in Sakura's expression turns sheepish. She purses her lips to the side again as she appears to contemplate, gaze shifting to study one of the blush chrysanthemums, and she's silent so long that his stomach begins to sink.

He's overstepped, asked too much-

"We've got two so far," she discloses softly, gently adjusting the flower so that it shows itself more clearly amongst the others surrounding it as his eyebrows rise slightly in surprise; he was unaware of a completely secondary facility. "They're… mental health clinics. Almost all children who were displaced by the war. That was how it started, anyway." Sakura carefully removes her fingers from the pale petals, shifting to rest her weight on her other arm. "Now we have a few older patients we're working with, too, to help round out the findings."

Her eyes ascend, expression turning some mix between fond and being a little hard to read. There's perhaps a tinge of self-consciousness lingering there, as well, just beneath the surface.

"One is run in conjunction now with the hospital here," she continues. "Ino and I oversee that one." The addition of Ino's involvement confounds him further, though it does explain her past mention of the kunoichi helping at her place of work in some capacity. "The other is in Suna; Tsunade-shishou has been running that one with Shizune assisting… until recently, of course. Shishou wanted to funnel more help into our end to speed along the process. We've been pooling our findings."

If there was something he expected she would say, it wasn't that, though it does explain Shizune's return. The woman already has experience assisting one head of Konoha's hospital in the past; if Tsunade handles the other clinic on her own for a bit, Shizune could shoulder a lot of the grunt work Sakura must complete at the general hospital day to day, which then frees her up to focus more on the project. He then thinks of the titles of the research journals he has seen Sakura circulate through each of the occasions they've gone to the library together. Neurology, she'd just said.

"...You're studying their brains," he concludes quietly, surveying her both curiously and carefully as if truly seeing her for the first time, newfound admiration watering an already extensive allegorical root system.

Sakura confirms it with a nod, as if the whole endeavor is as simple a task as tying a shoe. "It occurred to us, after almost a year of it, that there may be a correlation between mental health and psychology in terms of physical effects on the brain and how it functions," she affirms in a hushed voice, fiddling with her fingers at her side a bit.

According to Sasuke's recall of her letters and some quick mental calculations, that would then mean she's been gathering this data and compiling research for the better part of a year. He briefly wonders if it actually occurred to us as she's said or if she's being modest. Somehow he thinks it's the latter, given he's gathered she was the driving impetus of the clinic's initial construction and operations.

"...And?"

Surprise flows across her features, and she at last meets his eyes again.

"And what?" She asks, confusion evident by the way her pale pink brows are knitting together.

"Is there a correlation?"

"Oh." Her exhale is slow, soft, and she deflects her vision, frowning upwards at the sky. Her pale lashes catch the moonlight more clearly outside, though here they're intermixed with greenery shadows.

"...Our studies indicate that there is, yes."

The theory of it makes logical sense. He wonders how different his own head might look in comparison to that of a normal person's functioning; there must be enough of a difference to warrant such extended disquisition and efforts on her part, but what does Sakura plan on doing with such information? She's clearly garnered Tsunade's, and furthermore, Kakashi's, support-

"I count eight questions," Sakura contests, frown replaced with a smile by the time he's spent a moment pondering the implications. Once he's snapped out of it, he notes that while her tone of voice is teasing and convincingly confident, her body language betrays that; she seems a little antsy, nimble fingers tapping silently at her side again as if she would like to change the subject, which further confuses him.

"...I count one very thorough one," Sasuke responds after he's rediscovered his tongue.

A genuine smile illuminates her face.

"You drive a hard bargain, Sasuke-kun," she murmurs softly. "The one about Kakashi-sensei doesn't count, I suppose?"

Sasuke just barely reigns in a smirk.

"...A Jonin entrusted with secrets is expected to keep them that way," he begins to recite quietly, just as they were trained in the Academy, and knows immediately that his response is achieving the desired effect by the way that her smile grows as she rolls her eyes, simultaneous to her body seeming to relax all at once. "They are also trusted with, when said secret could be needed to be told, the discretion to give appropriate orders to subordinates involving said secrets. Jonin Code of Conduct, rule number seven."

He then takes a deliberately leisurely sip of his tea, the taste of malty orange rind flooding his senses as Sakura shakes her head.

"I never knew you were so funny," Sakura says softly, words coated with both fondness and some degree of disbelief. "Strong and smart, sure. Kind, of course. And handso-"

He must make some kind of face at the notion of smart - he's not nearly as intelligent as her - and moreso at kind, because he certainly is nothing of the sort, because she stops in the middle of whatever she was saying next.

And then he realizes, delayed chain reaction, that what Sakura was going to say was handsome, and his neck warms, the proclivity to dissent to the first part of her sentence vacating his brain entirely. And it seems she shares the same realization, too, because her cheeks glow, deep cherry red intermixed with the outlines of leaf shades.

A thousand thoughts filter through his head as Sakura becomes intensely interested in her teacup.

It's not that he didn't know that his girlfriend probably found him attractive. It's just not the only reason to have feelings for someone, and he knows that it is certainly not her primary reason for loving him, nonsensically inaccurate as her other descriptors of him may be. No, Sakura is not vain or preoccupied with appearance, but he can't deny the significance of physical attraction as a contributing factor. He himself finds her enormously attractive to the point of frequent distraction, but it is not the primary basis of his feelings for her…

…But, nevertheless, this is the first time she has nearly directly vocalized said attraction, and the off-the-cuff manner in which she had begun to speak suggests it is as much a fact to her as the sky is blue. So his blood buzzes up a frenzy, a distinctly pleased feeling enveloping every nerve ending.

Sakura clears her throat, cheeks persistently rutilant with embarrassment, which further does things to him, as it adds to the validity of his internal thought process: she means what she says, even if she says it by accident. "Um. Anyways," she intones, voice saturated with shyness; it sounds an awful lot to him that she's making grand efforts to keep her voice level. "So I, um. Get one question, then?"

Sasuke nods once, unwilling to fully trust his own voice, realizing his own face is quite possibly as warm as hers at present. He is, not for the first occasion, thankful for his skin's tanning over burning; it doesn't show as dramatically on him, he knows, especially in the scant amount of moonlight coating them both.

"Well," Sakura ventures, then clears her throat anew, takes another sip of her tea. "Your…" Her voice trails off as she seems to think. The spread of seconds seems to allow both of them to collect themselves.

"Well… Your birthday's coming up," Sakura finally murmurs, a faint smile playing at her lips as he resists the urge to snort, because of all the things she could possibly ask him…

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to do for it? Or… a gift that could be useful to you?" Jade eyes search his, and although her cheeks still seem a little pinker than normal, she holds his gaze.

"I don't need anything," he tells her with conviction, because he doesn't. He already has what he returned for, and it has far surpassed any material possession.

Sakura simply arches an eyebrow in question, her smile growing as he musters his best rendition of a perplexed expression. She could have asked him something with far more implications and he would be beholden to answering truthfully. It's rare that he directly vocalizes any majority of his thoughts at a given moment, yet this is what she chooses to pursue as an inquiry.

"...Naruto's been hounding me about a party for you," she reveals quietly, amusement dancing in her expression, and further so when he frowns. "Just a small one, Sakura-chan!" She shakes her head. "I keep telling him under no circumstances."

"...That would be a useful gift," he relents.

"What would?" She teases. Silently, he gives her his best you know what look as he raises his cup to take a sip, at which she bursts into laughter.

"Okay, okay," she giggles, shifting her weight once more to the opposite shoulder. "So I prevent him from throwing you a party, which was already a given. What else?"

Sasuke swallows, placing his cup back in its resting place.

"Nothing else," he asserts, voice resolute.

Tilting her chin, Sakura presses softly, "You can't think of anything else?" Moonlit eyes search his expression. "Twenty's a big birthday."

A prolonged pause ensues in which he studies the way her irises look just now. They're jade still, but borderline pearlescent in the cool reflectant off the moon.

"Celebrate it late as repayment," he finally says.

He anticipated that would perhaps make her laugh, but instead there is simply easy silence unfurling, a half smile tugging at her lips as she shifts, considering the chrysanthemum again, as if his response was precisely what she expected. It's free from awkwardness or unsuredness. Somehow it feels… tender. Requiescence.

"...If you think of anything, let me know," Sakura eventually relents in a hushed voice, reaching for his fingers. "Honesty, remember? And…"

Suddenly she's using her free hand as leverage, drawing herself closer until her lips are carefully colliding with his cheek and his neck is surging with heat.

She speaks the rest as scant more than a whisper as she retakes her seat, smiling, albeit with one difference from before: she is now much, much closer to him, her head near leaning against his shoulder.

"...Sometimes the best gifts arrive late."

---

Twilight hues paint the sky in muted shades of lavender and pink as Sasuke comes upon the hospital's twin glass doors. Patiently, he waits, vision idly tracing a squirrel as it skitters across the gravel twenty yards down the road. He wonders if Sakura will adjust the rest of her working hours this week and next to the later time slot like tonight, in which she finishes up around seven. He assumes she'll still come in at the typical early hours, but his own assignment coincides with him taking up a bit less of her free time. It would be rather characteristic of her, he thinks, to do so. If she's really utilizing that many shadow clones day to day, he imagines she'll rationalize the extra hours in order to expedite the completion of the project.

He hopes she'll take a bit of a break after that. Though he appreciates and is proud of the fact that she's grown leagues beyond the girl she was at their team's beginnings, he also knows that consistently utilizing such taxing ninjutsu takes its toll no matter how much chakra you have access to or how finely you are able to control it.

Just as the streetlights flicker on, the woman in question materializes behind the glass doors, pushing them open with a soft greeting of, "Sasuke-kun." Lingering tendrils of fatigue are evident in her body language, but there are also transparent signs of elation at seeing him, as if she's been looking forward to it all day.

"Sakura," he murmurs, unsure how his chest has suddenly become a molten mess. He briefly glances at her tote bag for respite: an unspoken gesture that has become customary for him, silently offering to carry it.

She still doesn't seem to be used to him doing that. She smiles - "Thank you," - skin taking on a delicate flush as she hands it over and they begin walking in pursuit of her apartment.

"Whew," she observes after they clear a block. "It's hot out today."

"...It is," he agrees. Though he doesn't like her putting in such long days, the hour-long opportunity to shower after finishing up guard duty with Choji is perhaps for the best. His customary black shirt and pants had been sticking to him like a second skin by the time he arrived back at his apartment, saturated with sweat. Were he to spend an additional hour outside even this late in the day, he's certain he would encounter the same problem. It likely means they will not be sitting on her balcony tonight, but he supposes the tradeoff is the welcome treasure that is air conditioning.

"How was guard duty?" Sakura questions, hands clasping behind her back. "Anything exciting happen?"

At this, Sasuke shakes his head. Truth be told, it had been a rather dull day. They'd seen at most ten people coming and going, all of them merchants; the bulk of Konoha's forces must have left for Sand prior to his shift of duty. Choji cooked up a new round of barbecue and Sasuke contributed additional flame and produce, making the food more than worthwhile, if not an unfair trade. He needs to get groceries, truth be told, but he's been avoiding going to the market he usually frequents since the tea debacle. He's sort of been hoping that Sakura will need to restock her refrigerator soon so they can go together.

"Just merchants," he finally replies, as she was still looking up at him expectantly, as if waiting for more information. "Identification in order." They take a handful of steps before he determines that she seems satisfied with that answer, and he poses his own question. "...You?"

Weariness briefly overtakes her face.

"We got a lot done," she says, sighing as if it's not necessarily a good thing. "Ino said she doesn't have much to do with Sai gone, so she'll be in more than usual to help speed things up."

Sasuke blinks in surprise. "...He's attending the Exams?" The artist hadn't mentioned it. He wonders if the snippet of conversation he caught that mentioned Ino making it her personal mission to be a pest was in reference to assisting Sakura, then. He wonders how Temari of the Sand is involved with the research. Perhaps as a messenger between facilities? That doesn't explain who was being dense, though.

Sakura nods. "He's convenient to have on hand in case of need for emergency transport. Hopefully it's not needed; things have been pretty peaceful…" Her voice trails off, and she shrugs. "But, if they need twenty birds, he can draw them up pretty quickly and get them back to Konoha in a jam. And obviously he can fight, too."

Sasuke observes her for a long second, thinking and taking mental stock of the ninja he knows are in Konoha currently. Sakura, Choji, Ino, Shizune, Kiba, Kiba's sister whom he by now has recalled is named Hana, following Choji's addressing of her at the completion of their shift today. He recalls Naruto mentioning that both Hinata and Hanabi would be attending the Exams, as they had a younger relative within the clan who will be competing.

"Ino roped me into some plans tomorrow evening," Sakura mentions as they reach the library turn, green eyes peering up at him. "Would you want to stop by the library on Friday after your shift? And dinner, too?"

Sasuke blinks, then nods. He's in need of a new book. He supposes he can visit a different market tomorrow on his own, then; somewhere new. Perhaps he'll find some ingredients worthy of contribution to an Akimichi barbecue.

As he mentally maps out an evening on his own, he also analyzes her word choice.

"...Roped into?" He questions quietly, voice tinged vaguely with humor.

Sakura sighs and shakes her head.

"She sort of invited herself to dinner, and is insistent that we go to the hot spring after that." She briefly meets his gaze. "Not really my thing, this time of year."

Ah. He himself rather enjoys hot springs at any time of year, given it's an onsen that's either private or rather off the beaten path, though he'll admit they're especially enjoyable when the weather's cooler. Sasuke likes the feeling of a scalding boil. It makes him feel… clean. It's the same reason he enjoys a good shower near daily, though he supposes he enjoyed them prior to the injury, too.

He does remember the Konoha onsen as being rather crowded, however, unless one went at off-peak hours. He dislikes crowded places as a general rule of thumb, and moreso dislikes them when it's an area of activity in which he prefers privacy and the opportunity to enjoy that which nature offers them. He's also rather certain that if he were to visit Konoha's onsen for the first time in years, it would effectively clear out the place as civilians clamored to escape the premises, or at least it would in the lobby entrance and on the mens' side.

Taking Sakura to the hot spring he found hovering at the border of the Lands of Frost and Hot Water at some point isn't a bad idea, he thinks as they walk. She'd probably like the seclusion of it, and the fact that the weather was more on the chilly end of things the majority of the year. It was scenic, too; he recalls one particular morning when he visited the onsen early, acting as a solitary sentinel to the frost clinging to the oak tree above and the dappled willows surrounding the area. The ice melted slowly as fresh dawn curved over the earth, kaleidoscopic patterns in the snow giving way to the warmth of the sun as he captured it with his Sharingan. He doesn't think he ever told her about it in his letters, actually, come to think of it. Maybe he should mention it.

The masculine chemicals that saturate his brain choose that moment to helpfully provide several mental pictures of visiting a sequestered onsen with Sakura, at which point he frowns and promptly derails that particular train of thought.

"Do you like hot springs?" Sakura snaps him out of it by asking, blissfully oblivious to the concupiscent path his thoughts have just taken, smiling as she leans a little forward. "You must have come across a few in your travels, right?"

Sasuke reflects for a second, hesitating. He supposes he can just say precisely what he was just thinking, minus the more… imaginative details. Specifically without her shivering in a way that has nothing to do with the cold.

"...I like them." He takes a few more steps, then adds, "The one in Konoha was always crowded, though."

They clear a dozen or so yards, but Sakura is still peering up at him as if she thinks he has more to add.

"...If I went to the one here, I'd probably clear out the place," he utters quietly.

He's unsure what response he had foreseen her having, but it definitely wasn't for her to take on a pensive expression as if she's genuinely considering what he's just said as something positive. Bizarrely, she doesn't look put off by it in the slightest.

"I wish I had that ability," she muses, voice sounding both jealous and far away for some reason. "It would make being there more tolerable. No people to deal with…"

The turn onto her street within his peripheral vision, Sasuke studies her curiously before concluding she must just really prefer using onsen with less people around. It's a way that they are alike, he supposes. If they ever do venture to one together at some point, he'll be comfortable in the knowledge that she seems to prefer a more solitary experience. If there's one good thing to come from his general disdain for social interaction and his reputation preceding him, it can be that.

Doesn't do much for the tantalizing array of options his baser instincts have now cruelly outlined for him, that, but…

He hesitates for longer than he cares to admit, but eventually he gets the words out.

"There's one on the border of the Lands of Frost and Hot Water," he murmurs quietly, looking anywhere but her. "Off the main path. Not much traffic, considering the bigger ones are on the main road."

A beat passes, then another before she speaks.

"An onsen?" She asks, voice sounding unsure she's understood him correctly.

He nods once, though he keeps his vision adhered to the buildings to his left until he's said what he wants to say. Verdure passes by.

"It's scenic," he forces out after a few more steps, neck suddenly feeling tepid. "Not as warm as here. You'd like it."

Giving the words a moment to settle, he finds himself confused and inwardly a bit alarmed when he finally slips his gaze back to her and finds her blushing dark scarlet. Urgently, he mentally retraces through what he's just said, trying to determine whether he's implied something he hadn't meant to.

No, he thinks, brows furrowing. He's fairly certain he'd kept it strictly factual with no implication of his more… prurient thoughts in the slightest. So why is she-

"Oh," Sakura breathes faintly, voice sounding far away as they round the corner. "I-"

Their progress veers to an abrupt halt as they come upon a sign that wasn't there yesterday, effectively blocking the walkway.

Chiffon-style cheesecake. Back on the menu and perfect for summer. Chilled!

Sakura's jade eyes quickly scan the advertisement, so Sasuke follows suit. It's easy, he finds, to latch onto the poster, an ample opportunity for distraction from whatever hormone-fueled propitious nonsense he was about to think.

The logo indicates that the dessert is now available at the bakery a few steps away, the one on her block that he silently suspected she enjoyed but has never actually seen her visit.

A longing expression wanders across her face, seemingly at odds with the flush, that makes him question if she managed to consume any of the ume chocolate today between her duties. The sheepish look she gives him after a few seconds confirms that even if she did, it hasn't satisfied her sweet tooth. The corner of his mouth twitches.

"Um, do you mind if we stop?" Sakura questions, cheeks remaining a hint scarlet. "I know I shouldn't spoil dinner, but I don't think I've had chilled cheesecake since last summer, and…"

Her voice trails off as his mind fills in the blank: sugar is good for chakra recuperation.

Sasuke glances at the bakery, studying it and trying to ascertain if it's a good idea for him to step foot inside such a place for the first time since he was seven. Judging from his reaction to the aroma of simple tea the other night, he thinks it's probably best he doesn't.

"...I'll wait here," he murmurs, hand slipping into his pocket for money. Sakura appears perplexed as he presses a few bills into her slender fingers, pupils wide as saucers as she stares downwards at their hands.

Her brows then furrow as her cheeks darken yet again, but he'd be loath to have to explain his inability to venture into bakeries. He pretends not to notice her confusion, letting his fingers linger against hers longer than necessary since there's not really anyone around. The nearest civilian is halfway down the block; not many people are out and about in this heat.

"I-" Sakura shakes her head in protest. "Wait; you don't have to buy it. I just meant-"

"And if I want to?" He cuts her off quietly, mouth threatening to curve as he finally withdraws his hand, leaving her clutching the bills. He manages to keep his expression neutral as her cheeks flood with more color.

"Oh." Her eyes then shine with happiness, apparently accepting the offer without question as a breathtaking smile blooms into being.

Good.

"Oh. Thank you." Another pause in which her fingers fidget with the money and her hand falls to the side, though the wide smile stays put. "Do you want anything? They have… good bread, too. Or-"

He shakes his head, at which her eyes linger on him a second longer before she bounds into the bakery with a newfound spring in her step, the tinkling of an overhead bell signaling entry.

As he waits outside, his attention drifts to the display window, seemingly bursting with summer-appropriate confections. He recalls the taste of many of them, having enjoyed them once: shu kurimu, monaka stuffed with mochi, and peach tarts that must all but melt in the mouth.

And senbei, stacked one atop the other, displayed with the customary mug for tea.

By the way an ache is beginning in his chest, he arrives at the conclusion that he has made the right choice. He stares at the sky the rest of the time instead, watching the clouds lazily drift by, drenched in soft correlating pinks and purples.

He's relieved when the bell chimes and Sakura emerges from the building, package in hand and radiant smile still chiseled into her features as if it's a permanent addition.

The rest of the evening is a quiet endeavor. Sakura limits herself to only two bites of the cheesecake prior to dinner, sliding it into the refrigerator before they prepare rei-shabu, a sort of renewed motivation aflame in her eyes that Sasuke finds amusing. The pork is lean, served amidst a salad featuring fresh lettuce and carrots, green beans, and peppers from her canned supply in the pantry. She retrieves a new can each of blueberries and blackberries after they've finished their meal, drizzling them rather artfully over the dessert in a way that suggests she's done it many times before, prior to demolishing it on her own with enthusiasm.

If he carefully swipes a small splotch of dark violet juice that she missed from the corner of her mouth, remnant from an overly large bite, well, no one's any the wiser, least of all the dobe or their troublesome sensei. That's good, because he doesn't want anyone else privy to how red her face gets after he does so. Sasuke's beginning to get the impression that there are many versions of Sakura he will eventually have the privilege of seeing as red as a rose; she blushes too easily.

Internal conundrums boxed up for later unpacking and long shifts in the heat aside, it's a life he could get used to. As much as he values his journey and the places it brought him, the things it forced him to see, it was immensely taxing, being so far away from his most important people for long. It feels… remarkably normal. Routine. Work with a familiar comrade through the day, spend the evening with Sakura watching movies at her home. He somehow thinks he prefers it to going on missions outside of Konoha's boundaries in which he gets to experience the rest of the continent, though he knows that, with his narrowly specialized skill set, that is often where he will be most needed.

Then again, maybe not. Sakura dozes against his good arm just a few minutes into their second movie, her left hand intertwined with his right, and seems quite content to nap there for the better part of an hour.

He lets her. It's not tracing the lineaments of her face, but he's certain he must be leaving a fingerprint or two against each knuckle of her hand. Corrosion, he remembers, and no more empty spaces between their fingers if he can help it.

At the film's conclusion, she finally comes to awareness, credits rolling and an orchestral ending that must send a signal to her subconscious. She blinks in confusion as the text cycles over the dark background, momentarily disoriented by the abrupt shift from sleeping to wakefulness. He wonders if she dreamt about anything in particular.

"Did I fall asleep?" Sakura asks, voice still laced with a hint of torpor and brows scrunched. Her fingers seem to momentarily tighten around his as if to seek grounding.

"Aa," he murmurs, amused because she frowns as if this information perturbs her.

"...I didn't let you miss anything important," he adds, holding his expression neutral.

Sakura's lips curl into a lopsided grin slowly, because this has to be the fourth or fifth time they've watched this particular one together. She begins to shake her head before abruptly realizing that she's been using his bicep as a pillow.

"Oh; sorry," she breathes, a soft laugh escaping her as she shifts her head's weight away from his bicep. "Your arm's probably asleep."

He squeezes her hand once, effectively dispeling that illusion, and then carefully pressing another fingerprint into her index base knuckle.

Instead of saying anything more, her pupils fall to his mouth and his breath catches in his lungs in anticipation.

He's never kissed her when she's sleepy before. As he expects will be true of any variation of this sort of affection with her, he finds he enjoys it. Her lips move more languidly like this, slow but sure once he ducks his head to meet her in the middle. Her free hand traces up the line of his jaw carefully before settling at the crown of his spine, which doesn't do wonders for the facade of at-ease breathing he normally tries to portray.

They're a bit past that now, he supposes, recollecting eighty-one beats.

Even as his pulse vaults, the kissing itself stays slow, like they have all the time in the world. Her lips are soft and pliant against his, a peregrine sunbeam amiss beyond midnight, and they part easily in earnest when he hints through actions that he wants them to.

When they finally seek the respite of much-needed air, he can see the drowsy contentment in her eyes, semilustrous galvanic green. Her hand lingers steady against his nape, and he leans into her touch just enough to show her that it's still welcomed, so that she doesn't withdraw. For a few moments, they simply look at each other, and he is tempted.

"...You should sleep," he tells her quietly, reluctantly, because what he really wants is to give in, drink up another twenty minutes of her time indulging in the same activities.

Her response begins with her pressing her forehead to his bicep, a smile playing at her lips. He can feel through the fabric of his sleeve that her skin is hot to the touch.

"Should I?" She questions, tone playful but also fatigued. "On what grounds?"

His mouth twitches.

"...The grounds that I suspect you were at the hospital by six today, and that you intend to do the same tomorrow."

"Mmm," Sakura responds with no fight, eyes still closed and confirming his suspicions. "I work better in the morning when things are quiet. More time to mentally prepare for whatever Ino wants to talk about, too."

Sasuke snorts. I can only imagine.

"...I can only imagine."

At this she laughs, a drowsy chuckle low in her throat that makes his chest feel warmer than it already was.

"Whatever you're imagining, worsen it by a factor of three. She's impossible," Sakura sighs.
"Especially with Sai gone."

"...More reason to sleep."

He feels her mouth twitch against the cloth of his sleeve. Then she sighs again, the logic of it reaching her. Slender fingers slope across the sensitive stretch of his neck in a manner that makes every fine hair there stand on end with static and something else.

"I suppose," she relents, pulling back and looking up at him guiltily. "I imagine you need sleep, too."

Ninety-two beats, he counts this time, rife to mark his page amidst two more kisses goodnight, lingering berry and antiseptic mnesic in the threshold.

---

If a shadow clone discreetly places another sweetened iced tea from the shop in her office the following day while he himself is on duty, well, no one's any the wiser there, either.

Or that's what he'd told himself, anyways, given Kakashi and the dobe's absence. His watch partner dispels that illusion when he asks what the clone is for. Choji's also far more perceptive than when they were kids, apparently.

"Not that I have any room to talk about using clones to one's advantage," the man laughs, gesturing at the plate he's placed with his gear to wash later. "Just curious!"

The manner in which he asks doesn't seem prying. Kind, even. Simple inquisitiveness, free from any obligation to answer.

It's a testament to Sasuke's true nature that even so, he still considers lying. But Choji has been gracious to him when he has every reason not to be, sharing food and not complaining about being assigned missions with him. He's also fairly close to Sakura, anyways, evidenced by the picture on Sakura's wall from when she must have made Chunin, Ino and Choji as well as Kakashi and Asuma rounding out the composition.

"...Dropping off something for Sakura at the hospital."

Choji's face contorts in confusion, and, Sasuke thinks, a touch of starch disappointment. He turns away, then, anticipating another round of patrol around the village perimeter is about to be necessary.

"...Tea," he adds quietly. "She overworks."

---

"When did you make Chunin?" Sasuke poses quietly as they wait for the water to boil the following day, having both conquered another shift. She at least seems a little more well-rested today than previously. Perhaps a visit to the hot spring with Ino was what she needed to help recuperate. He can't remember if onsen visits helping with chakra comeback are factual or an old wive's tale. Perhaps he'll ask that next; she likely knows.

Jade eyes blink in surprise.

"Eh?" Her mouth hangs open for a second around the word before she seems to catch herself. "When I was fourteen. Why?"

Sasuke responds with a nonchalant shrug, but beneath the surface, a new host of questions come to mind.

"...Just curious." He spends a moment reflecting on his own training for the Chunin Exams, specifically the tournament at its conclusion. It was far from the most pleasant July of his life, but it had yielded considerable growth in skill in a short amount of time under Kakashi's tutelage, and, now that he's thinking about it, he doesn't think he ever even thanked him.

In fact, he did the express opposite of thanking him. He aimed the deadly ninjutsu Kakashi had taught him at a teammate instead.

Internal cringing and disquiet aside, he wonders if Kakashi ever trained Sakura in that regard, or if he left that solely to Tsunade.

"...Did Kakashi train you?"

Her lips twitch into a half-smile.

"A bit," she confirms. "Mostly genjutsu training on his end, though. We spent a few days before the tournament brushing up on taijutsu, too, but… most of it I'd learned already from Tsunade-shishou's style. Asuma-sensei, on the other hand…"

Ah. Asuma helped with training in tandem, too; Shikamaru was already a Chunin and likely occupied with mission assignments, but Asuma still had duties to Choji and Ino. He doesn't know much about the man's fighting style, come to think of it; just that it involved specialized weaponry.

"Asuma..?" He urges, anticipation intermingling with his curiosity.

Sakura's mouth purses to the side thoughtfully and, for some reason, a new expression seems to wash over her.

"Well, he wanted me to try the trench knives - Ino and Choji had no interest - but they felt too light after Tsunade-shishou's axes…"

Axes?

He stifles a grimace as he endeavors to imagine what weapon training looks like with Senju Tsunade; for some reason he feels there's a fair amount of blood and practice with medical ninjutsu involved. No wonder she has zero reservations about getting directly impaled on weaponry.

"It threw me off. Not suited for use in just a couple of weeks." Sakura shakes her head, somber with what seems to him a touch of regret. "It did give me more experience in playing around with chakra scalpels, I guess." There's a full-on frown tugging at her lips now. Her eyes drifts pensively toward the window as if suddenly lost in introspection.

There is a prolonged moment in which inwardly, incredulously, he thinks that it could only be Sakura who's ever spoken the phrase playing around with chakra scalpels. It's an art reserved for Jonin-level Shinobi, eluding his grasp even under Kabuto's slimy brand of tutelage spanning the course of two years.

Yet instead of pressing further on her knowledge of the art, he finds himself ensnared in searching her profile instead, and then the set of her shoulders and the rest of her body, trying to place what's playing out in her expression.

A heavy sigh then escapes her, slow and laden with meaning, and Sasuke is startled to realize that it is sadness.

"Mirai's getting so big," she remarks, which further puzzles him as he does not know who that is. "Almost three at her last appointment. I wonder which fighting style she'll be more apt to. It'd be nice if…" Her voice dwindles to almost a whisper and she pauses.

Then, with a shake of her head and a shift in her posture, she fixes her gaze on the window. "Well, it'd be nice if it was Asuma-sensei's, considering." Pale pink lashes sweep her cheekbones as she closes her eyes, deep in thought. "If she got his chakra control, she'd make a good medic, too."

Sasuke blinks once, then twice, processing and backtracking her wording, before arriving at the conclusion that Mirai must be Asuma's daughter.

"...Considering what?" He questions quietly, a knot of unease constricting and twisting his stomach tighter.

Sakura's eyes shoot open and confusion clouds across her features.

"You…" A pause in which her lips twitch, as something makes itself plain in her expression. "Oh. You don't…" Her voice trails off, and the knots worsen haphazardly, because he's certain he knows exactly what she's about to say.

"...Asuma was killed."

Heavy silence engulfs them both, interrupted only by the whistle of the kettle. A mounting sense of dread grips him as he finally asks.

"...How?"

"...A fight with the Akatsuki."

Sasuke swallows; he'd suspected something along those lines. He reflects on the fact that Shikamaru smokes now. The implication is there; who else would clash with the Akatsuki alongside Sarutobi Asuma other than his own team?

"...Who?" Though he doesn't think it would be his brother, he internally braces himself for the hit just in case. Itachi avoided killing if possible, especially Konoha ninja, but he wants to know for sure.

With an air of stiffness, Sakura pours steaming water into the teapot, her movements seemingly detached from the conversation they're having.

"Hidan and Kakuzu," Sakura answers quietly.

The loss is no less profound on behalf of Team Ten, but he exhales slowly in relief that it wasn't Itachi; they were spared the trauma of facing a Sharingan in battle, at least. He doesn't know much about either of the names she's just mentioned; they must have been defeated prior to his joining the Akatsuki.

"...When?" The time window would be slim.

"Before the war," Sakura starts, expression pained as she rotates the teapot slightly, distributing the herbal mix evenly, then setting it down to steep. There's grief in her voice when adds, "Before Pain attacked Konoha. They were sixteen; I… don't know much about it. Ino doesn't like to talk about it… but they were all there."

Sasuke tries and fails to imagine what it would be like to be in their shoes. He did a lot of thinking on his journey, about what would have happened had he stayed in Konoha and made better choices.

What would it do to him to watch Kakashi die? He then tries to envision three additional years of direct attachment: countless missions, rigorous training, and the only semblance of parental figure he had left. It paints a horrific picture.

So how is it that Choji, Shikamaru, and Ino are, at their core, the same as he remembers them? He's a fucking mess most of the time, stumbling in pitfall after pitfall from years ago. How do they carry on just fine, seemingly impervious to the disarray that has consumed him?

I didn't know, he finds himself wanting to say to them, but he knows he won't, for one reason that resonates more loudly:

You didn't ask.

"Mirai is his daughter," Sakura tells him softly, voice thick, and his eyes snap to her. "Kurenai's her mother."

"...I didn't know they were married," Sasuke responds, gears still churning in the annals. He tries to force them to a grinding halt.

"They weren't," she responds. "They probably would have been, if…" Her voice trails off, vision falling to the stove as she turns off the burner.

"...They're all close with her," Sakura must find it in her to continue. "Asuma wanted them to be. Shikamaru, especially, watches her a lot." This surprises him greatly; it's difficult to picture the taciturn Shinobi taking on the role of babysitter. "When she was born, they…"

A smile finds its way back onto Sakura's face. He studies it greedily for distraction.

"Well, it was a good day. Ino filled the room with so many flowers that it was hard to get equipment in. You could smell them all the way down the hall." Apparently having deemed that it's ready, Sakura carefully pours tea into both cups. "And Choji cooked her a feast, after, since you're not really supposed to eat a ton during. He showed up with fresh octopus from the market, a griddle, and some bowls; takowasa for her and takoyaki for everyone else. Hinata, Kiba, and Shino were there, too, obviously. And Shikamaru, of course."

Sasuke spends a prolix span of seconds studying her.

"...You delivered her," he surmises.

Sakura blinks in recognition. "Oh. Shizune and I alternated - it was a long labor - but yes. Tsunade-shishou was busy with Hokage duties and Kakashi-sensei's transition." She says it flippantly, as if it's common practice for a seventeen year-old to be delivering a baby. Sasuke supposes for a seventeen year-old who has healed entire armies, it probably seems like nothing in retrospect.

Nodding, he mentally adds midwifery to his mental list of Sakura's feats. Delivering a baby is likely a lot easier than surgery, and he's aware she gets called in for those on occasion. Didn't he overhear that she performs ultrasounds, too?

He wonders how many babies she's delivered now. From what he understands, she's been essentially running the hospital since eighteen - her earlier letters - and she'd had her own office there even prior to his departure for his journey. Two years is a long time. The village keeps expanding, and it was not a small village to begin with.

It's an easier thing to focus on for the time being than the alternative: that people he considers comrades have apparently suffered a lot more than he previously knew, yet they are so well-adjusted that he would have never had any idea.

Worse: what kind of comrade does that make him?

---

He stands at the entrance to the Shinobi cemetery, the clinking of keys in his pocket against the now-empty thermos an accompaniment to his hesitation. They used to come here regularly as part of their classes at the Academy, performing routine maintenance as community service.

It shouldn't feel so different now, but it does.

He reads measured names in careful kanji as he meanders slowly but purposefully: old ones closer to the middle of the cemetery like Nohara Rin with wilting hydrangeas in faded violet laid carefully astride the headstone, and granite monuments befitting a Hokage such as Namikaze Minato, and a memorial stone, newer, that reads Uzumaki Kushina aside it.

Both have neatly clipped flowers atop them, too, also wilting in the past few days' heat. Marigold, cobalt, and fuchsia are still intensely saturated even under the cover of night, as bold as the near-always orange-clad ninja who had to have laid them there.

He doesn't know why this catches him so off guard, why it makes his eyes sting; it makes sense. Maybe it's just hard to reconcile the image of Naruto fully-grown in a graveyard. The dobe never took it seriously when they were younger and here on assignment. Once Iruka caught him etching graffiti onto the northeast fence; that stunt had him cleaning the chalkboard at the Academy for a week as punishment.

That thought sends him corkscrewing into anger again, sets the gears twisting on resenting rusted hinges, because if his teammate had been told who his parents were to begin with, he's certain his outlook on the task would have been markedly different. It wasn't fair to keep such information from him, to shutter him into an empty apartment by himself. It was even less fair to send him on missions where he could have been killed in action at twelve without ever having learned the truth. He once again finds himself wanting to lash out at the Third Hokage, to hold him accountable for the way in which he failed the both of them, the atrocities he accepted… until he remembers that the Third's son is dead now, too, and has been for years. Though Sasuke didn't know Asuma personally, perhaps that's a far greater punishment than he could ever hope to inflict.

Would his own eighty-six deceased kin be heartsore if he himself was killed young?

Worse, did he make them miserable when he killed Itachi?

Sasuke tears his eyes away and keeps going, searching for the section with the most recently disturbed earth. Sure enough, another bright menagerie of primary petals decorates a headstone down the way, and another further. He knows prior to coming upon the closest one that it will be engraved with Hyuga Neji, the same way he knows the small stone at the very end of the line, the one with the still-tilled soil, must be for the yet unnamed Genin.

It's a tiny grave, at least a foot and a half shorter in length than the others near it. Were they really ever that small, the weight of it all on their shoulders, despairingly unsupervised and uncared for?

Naruto is kind, too, he thinks. Far kinder and exceedingly more patient than he is worthy of, just like Kakashi and Sakura. He hopes being Hokage won't erode those qualities. The children of Konoha deserve better than what they went through.

They also deserve better comrades than he, ones that aren't oblivious to others' grief.

There are other small flower offerings at both gravestones, too, that Sasuke instinctively knows have been left by Neji's other teammates or his sensei, as well as the Genin's family: violets and irises before him and orange osmanthus, he thinks, atop the farther. He deliberately maintains his distance, angling the other direction, not wanting to learn their name because he knows he doesn't deserve to.

He ponders the significance of grieving with someone such as a wife, the solace it may provide. He's glad Naruto is married and has that. Hinata, too; main branch or secondary branch, loss of family is loss of family. Despite hating his brother, he'd felt numb for days after killing Itachi. Having someone to lean on may have cushioned that blow, had he made better choices. Perhaps he wouldn't have killed his brother at all.

That would be better, he thinks. There are nights where he can't get the grisly crunch of a skull hitting concrete out of his head. His team's company sometimes seems to be the only thing capable of drowning it out when he's within Konoha's boundaries, Sakura especially. Simultaneously still, Sasuke finds it difficult to imagine asking her to accompany him to such a place. He dislikes seeing her sad and hurting.

He suspects it is because he has so often been the cause of it.

There are three plots of note to him remaining, two of them situated to the immediate left of Hyuga Neji's final resting place, intermixed amongst several others but situated side by side as he'd expected they would be, given the historical significance of the Ino-Shika-Cho triage. They are of a different shape than the surrounding headstones: small memorial inscriptions that indicate Shinobi killed in action in which bodies were not recovered for one reason or another.

Yamanaka Inoichi and Nara Shikaku.

Even in death, the Uchiha remain separate from the rest of the village in ways the other clans are not. He's sure it was no mistake that the Uchiha memorial stone was installed in a separate location, cremation or not. He'd wondered about that as a child but never put the pieces together, too fixated on his grief. There were times when he'd even been grateful for the segregation; Sasuke underwent stages where he visited it often, and he'd thought he'd be perceived as weak were he to be caught mourning there.

Sure enough, many stones down - how many ninja were buried here in his absence? - there is another gravestone with a semi-familiar name, indicating there had at least been a body to bury afterwards. He's fairly certain that itself is of significant note when dealing with the Akatsuki.

Sarutobi Asuma, it reads, adorned with a lone red camellia.

How can they all carry on so… normally? Ino seems much the same person she has always been. Shikamaru, perhaps, is a great deal more diligent and focused than when they were younger, but he carries the same demeanor, otherwise. Yet they've both lost a parent and a sensei. Choji's lost Asuma, too, but he's as good-natured as ever, albeit a bit less talkative, something that could simply be chalked up to the fact that he's been stuck on missions with him of all people.

What's so fucking different about him? Is Sasuke the only one rattled and stunted by grief to this extent, forever losing grip of the person he could have been and dragging everything he touches down with him? In what way specifically have the gods crafted him to be so deficient? Is it because his family met their doom at the hands of one of their own, the residual effects of reaching too high and being swatted down like power-hungry flies?

Anger and absurd, egregiously misplaced jealousy weigh him down like an anchor at sea, twisting and tangling his stomach into increasingly labyrinthine knots no matter which way the waves belligerently roll. What he would give to just have lost one family member instead of all, he thinks wretchedly, even as he knows it makes him scum of the earth, because no matter who he chooses in such a demented scenario, it would be inflicting suffering on someone.

Sasuke is back at his apartment before he becomes cognizant of the decision to leave in the first place. It's too heavy for him to take to distraction, though he tries, frowning as the sencha cools in his cup untasted and blowing through half of the book he checked out mere hours ago without processing a goddamn word of it. Activating his Sharingan to capture the glare of the glass protecting their team photo or the sway of the cherry blossom tree across the street via the window don't help, either.

It bothers him less when he's around others, but when he's alone… it's harder to ignore the mess of choleric twines his gut has become, correlation after correlation that tell him the same thing he's known since he was scant more than three feet high: he is inadequate, inferior, deeply lacking in some fundamental way. No one in their right fucking mind with an ounce of compassion would think what he thought tonight.

His fingers begin to twitch with the acute urge to slice into something that's not a training target, so he spends the next thirty minutes in the shower, pointedly ignoring the small handful of scars on his remaining wrist as if that will bewitch them into silence. He's certain Sakura would notice it, were he to give in, and he doesn't want to worry her.

He considers it, after the water has run cold: going to see her, hesitantly knocking on her bedroom door, since she'll be asleep. Or maybe he should give her supplemental warning, knock on the front door instead? He knows she'd let him stay in a heartbeat, were he to ask.

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

Yet he lets others do the same without ever thinking otherwise. He knew Ino and Shikamaru lost their fathers, yet he hasn't offered so much as a kind word in the years since it happened.

And Itachi-

No. He doesn't want to disturb her. Whatever she's been working on, it's important. She doesn't need her sleep disrupted because of his lack thereof. It would worry her, the precise opposite of what he wants.

He's paged through three of her letters with water-wrinkled fingers, pulse slowing slightly, before the idea creaks in between the gears for dissection.

Penning down his thoughts to her while away on his journey was remedial in its own way. It always helped him feel more grounded, like he was excavating a small amount of the decay and coaxing it into something else. Perhaps it was the anticipation of a response from her that gave it that effect. But no, watching his hawk fly away each time had its own sense of satisfaction for having recorded what he was thinking and communicating it to someone not lost on the wind.

Even if he'll never read them…

While it's not a loud way of expressing himself, he supposes it's not exactly suffering in silence, either. Written word, internal monologue, whatever. Just as long as it helps shovel out the rot and frayed skeins and unspoken words burning holes in his stomach lining. He recognizes that being jealous of those who've only lost one person is supremely fucking stupid. Sometimes it's the one person who matters. He would be even more of a walking disaster were he to lose any of his own teammates.

He'll try it once: pull a strand from every tangled knot he has into simplified kanji. If it doesn't work, it's just one wasted sheet of parchment. He can write in the margins if he runs out of room. He can fuck up as many times as he desires, be as nonsensical as the fates who choose who stays and who goes.

What he ends up putting to paper is nowhere near as careful or polished as what he would send to Sakura each time; it's messy, stiff, chaotic morass, bereft through the blur that's become his vision at present. That's the benefit of no one reading it but him, he supposes; little room to overthink every adjective and syllable.

Itachi,

I don't know where to begin.

F̶u̶c̶k̶ y̶o̶u̶.

I̶ d̶o̶n̶'t̶ k̶n̶o̶w̶ h̶o̶w̶ y̶o̶u̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶

How much of the world were you able to see? Did you have anyone to share it with? You would have liked Sakura. She's kind. Mother would have, too. Maybe even Father; she's impressive. I don't deserve her. S̶h̶e̶'d̶ b̶e̶ b̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ o̶f̶f̶ i̶f̶

I̶ h̶o̶p̶e̶ y̶o̶u̶ w̶e̶r̶e̶n̶'t̶ a̶l̶o̶n̶e̶

Father put too much pressure on you. I think I did, too. I'm sorry.

Thank you for gifting me your eyes. I won't take them for granted. T̶h̶e̶r̶e̶'s̶ a̶ t̶r̶e̶e̶ a̶c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶t̶r̶e̶e̶t̶ f̶r̶o̶m̶ m̶y̶ a̶p̶a̶r̶t̶m̶e̶n̶t̶. I̶ l̶o̶o̶k̶ a̶t̶ i̶t̶ o̶f̶t̶e̶n̶ a̶n̶d̶

Being here hurts. I've been putting off visiting the Uchiha District. But there's good, too. Far more good than I've earned.

D̶i̶d̶ y̶o̶u̶ a̶v̶o̶i̶d̶ b̶a̶k̶e̶r̶i̶e̶s̶, a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶?̶ I̶ s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ c̶a̶n̶'t̶ s̶t̶o̶m̶a̶c̶h̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶.

I'm angry with you. I'm sorry. I wish I were kinder or beyond it. I wish I wasn't selfish.

Do you have any concept of what you stole from us?

I miss you.

-Sasuke

He commits the letter to flame afterwards, but not before capturing each stroke of the pen with the Sharingan. If there's a next time to write letters that stay unsent, he wants to know what he's already said so he doesn't waste the minutes repeating himself.

As the last bit of it disintegrates - he neatly swipes up the ashes by lamplight and discards them - he realizes that the torpor he's yearned for has finally found him.

---

AN: Sasuke: Why does Kakashi obscure something that doesn't need obscuring?

Also Sasuke: That was way too personal. No one needs to know I've ever liked an artwork.

I promise not every chapter is gonna end like this. Poor guy is just going through it right now + spending a lot of time trying to figure things out. I promise it's going to go somewhere. 😂

Thank you to those of you who have left a kind word even in the "off" months. It's so kind, especially in times where life gets hectic and it feels like I don't have time to do anything creatively. Anytime someone says they're rereading I get silly little butterflies in my stomach and hug my phone. :')

I have zero idea when I'll be able to update again. I was hoping to get 3 more chapters up this year, but I'm 2 for 5 in 2023 so far, so… sorry in advance if I don't get there. 😬 Graduate school is sort of taking my ass to the cleaners, and the normal school year is creeping up… Prayer circle for my work/life balance, shall we?

Follow me on Twitter (or elsewhere like Tumblr… my expectations for Elon Musk were low, but yikes this level of incompetence is truly an unprecedented dumpster fire I cannot look away from) for updates if you wish, and feel free to bolster my quest for a classroom laminator if you so choose to love on your local art teacher. 😂 I know I've said it a zillion times, but I'm sticking with this silly little story. I have already invested far too much time on it and the pages of rough drafting are burning a hole in my google docs. So, even if I don't get an update up for a hot minute… please be patient and know I'm still very much working on it.

Until next time! ❤️