Chapter 15
Month 4
The pushback Sakura had received from both the council and the public had been relentless. It had started with concerns about the cost of the mental health reforms, the council arguing that the country couldn't afford to spend more on social programs while economic recovery was already stretched thin. The public, though more sympathetic, had a cultural stigma around mental health that was deeply ingrained. People whispered that mental health wasn't a real issue and that investing in it was unnecessary. The reforms were labeled as soft-hearted or frivolous by more conservative council members like Danzo, who saw them as a distraction from more "important" state issues like defense and trade.
In council meetings, her youth was thrown in her face. Members would question her authority or understanding of such complex policies, implying that her inexperience as queen made her incapable of truly understanding what was best for the kingdom. The worst of it all came after Itachi's death, where it seemed as if the political dam had broken. Some council members insinuated that this wasn't her place to meddle, that she was there to smile and produce heirs, not steer the kingdom's social agenda.
As Sasuke fought his battles with vehemence and venom, she struggled to find her footing in this brand new political landscape where people constantly looked down on her.
This lack of support left her feeling absolutely disheartened. It had been eating away at her confidence in the quiet and lonely confines of her apartments, and for a while, she had succumbed to the overwhelming weight of self-doubt. But slowly, as she'd spent sleepless nights going over old research and studies from her pre-wedding days, she realized she wasn't angry with the council for pushing back on her ideas, but with herself for not standing up sooner. That anger sparked something in her. It gave her a renewed sense of purpose, a kernel that hadn't been dulled by marriage or the weight of her role as queen.
The next day, Sakura summoned Temari, her highly efficient PA, and they both sat down to develop a plan of action. They'd been allocated only an hour, so they had to make it count. Together, they brainstormed ideas. Education campaigns to shift public perception about mental health became the backbone of their plan. Temari had been instrumental in suggesting they collaborate with influential voices, both inside and outside the palace, tapping into social media powerhouses across Nippon Koku. The idea of working with internet influencers excited Sakura—connecting with the younger generation, bypassing the formal channels that had stifled her before. She felt a renewed sense of momentum as they talked strategy, fleshing out campaigns that could reach the masses where traditional methods couldn't.
By the time the hour was up, Temari gently ushered her to the next engagement on her calendar—a formal tea ceremony with foreign dignitaries. As much as she wanted to keep working, duty called. But later that night, after the formalities and meetings were done, Sakura couldn't let it go. Like her husband often did, she brought her work home.
She opened her laptop in their shared quarters and began pulling together all her thoughts into targeted pilot programs in key regions of the country. She spent hours reading up on regions where the stigma around mental health was high, places that would benefit the most from early intervention. Her mind raced with ideas, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she drafted a PowerPoint presentation, mapping out the rollout, budgets, and necessary resources.
His Majesty, when he returned to their quarters, having come to expect her undivided attention, was taken aback. He noticed the way she didn't even look up, her focus entirely consumed by her work. It stirred something in him, a strange sense of disappointment and confusion that he couldn't quite shake. For a moment, he lingered at her side, squinting at her screen, trying to make sense of what she was working on. He wanted to ask, wanted to engage in conversation, but something stopped him. He hesitated, wondering why it bothered him so much that she hadn't engaged with him like before, but the moment passed, and grudgingly, he let it go, walking towards the bedroom, hoping to work through some of his own paperwork as the night progressed.
A week passed. Every single day, Sakura carved out hard-earned hours out of her day to polish her proposal and it finally seemed presentable.
Sakura paced frantically around the coffee table she'd converted into a make-shift desk in the living area, the jittery energy from too much coffee coursing through her veins. It was late at night and her mind was still racing a mile a minute with thoughts of her proposal—the solutions she'd spent countless nights working on, from Public-Private Partnerships to Social Impact Bonds, telehealth platforms, and celebrity-endorsed fundraisers. She had poured her heart and soul into this, but the nerves were getting to her.
Her pacing stopped abruptly when she heard the door click open. She turned to see Sasuke standing there, his form frozen in surprise as he took in the sight of her in a frantic state. She blurted out, almost breathlessly, "Help!"
It wasn't lost on her that this was the first time in ages she was acknowledging him, and had the dizzying rush of the coffee not been propelling her, she might have second-guessed herself into silence again.
He raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued but cautious. "With what?" he asked, his voice steady despite his surprise.
Without missing a beat, Sakura rushed over, grabbed his arm, and pulled him toward her laptop. "With this!" she exclaimed, barely giving him time to process. She motioned to the stack of documents on the table, the presentation open on her screen. As he sat down, she casually peeled off his coat, loosening his tie without thinking, her hands busy as she rambled through the explanation of her work.
Sasuke, caught off guard by her casual handling of him, blinked, trying to shake off the flustered feeling creeping up on him. He forced himself to focus on what she was saying, his mind sharpening as she explained each facet of her proposal.
"I'm done," she announced finally, after what seemed like an inordinate amount of time of simply her speaking at him and him simply listening to her. She could feel her eyes widened like that of the overly caffeinated and a hint of nervousness skittered throughout the rest of her body as she waited for him to react. "I want you to tear it apart," she told him earnestly, simply for the fact that she'd be able to fill up those holes and build it up again.
Sasuke leaned back in his seat, his expression contemplative as he processed what she had just laid out before him. She had done an impressive job, he realized—her research was thorough, and the passion in her delivery was palpable. But he also knew she was asking for more than just praise. She wanted him to look at it with the same sharpness the council would, to critique it from their perspective.
He narrowed his eyes as he scanned through the details. "Your telehealth platform—there's going to be significant resistance to integrating that across rural areas. The infrastructure isn't there, and the council will argue it's a misuse of funds when those areas are still struggling with basic healthcare."
Sakura crossed her arms, pacing again. "We could offset some of that with subsidies, using corporate sponsorships to fill the gaps. Plus, telehealth cuts costs in the long run—preventative care will decrease the strain on in-person facilities."
Sasuke's eyes flickered with approval, though he didn't show it outwardly. He continued, "The Social Impact Bonds… They're going to see it as risky. The council will argue the return on investment isn't guaranteed."
Sakura's hands flailed in frustration. "But that's the point of SIBs! The private sector assumes the risk, not the government. We only pay if the program works—how can they argue against that?"
"They'll argue that it's an unnecessary gamble when traditional funding methods are safer," he retorted, his voice cool and analytical. "Danzo will definitely bring up the long-term debt implications."
Sakura groaned, but she wasn't backing down. "So we tweak it—focus on smaller pilot programs first, prove it works, then scale up. Besides, with the celebrity fundraisers, we'll have the public on our side. We'll use that momentum to push through the initial phase."
Sasuke, now leaning closer to the screen, didn't immediately respond. He was genuinely impressed with her strategic thinking, but he kept his face impassive. "The celebrity involvement could backfire," he pointed out. "Public sentiment can be fickle. One wrong move, one scandal, and it could ruin everything."
Sakura shot back, her voice rising in frustration. "We vet them carefully, ensure they're committed. The influencers will play a massive role in changing the public perception of mental health. We're not just funding a program, Sasuke—we're creating a movement."
His gaze narrowed as he scrutinized her, and before either of them realized it, they were standing face to face, their breathing shallow, the energy between them charged. Sasuke had risen from his seat during the back and forth, and now they were inches apart, her face flushed with passion, his eyes dark and intense.
Sakura felt the air shift, the weight of the moment pressing down on them. She leaned in instinctively, her lips parting slightly, feeling as if this was it—the moment when they'd finally bridge the gap that had been growing between them. Her eyes fluttered shut, heart pounding, ready for him to meet her halfway.
But instead of kissing her, Sasuke stiffened. His hands flew up to push her away gently, but firmly. She blinked, startled and confused, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the panic in his eyes—an emotion she wasn't used to seeing from him.
"Why…" she started, but her voice trailed off as Sasuke turned away abruptly, his face a mix of unreadable emotions. He stormed toward the door, leaving her standing there, still reeling from the sudden shift.
"Sasuke!" she called after him, frustration bubbling up inside her. But he didn't stop. The door clicked shut behind him, and she was left standing there alone, feeling the sting of rejection gnaw at her.
Month 5
Sakura's calendar had been chaotic for weeks, but now it was an organized masterpiece of meetings, collaborations, and plans—thanks to Temari's exceptional management skills. After her productive session with the council, they had grudgingly agreed to her pilot mental health program, though she could see it in their eyes that they were hoping she'd fail. But instead of being discouraged, she'd doubled down, fueled by her determination to prove them wrong.
She had enlisted Shikamaru to help her vet influencers and manage the PR aspects of her initiative. Over time, she'd noticed a subtle but unmistakable spark between Shikamaru and Temari as they worked side by side. Her inner matchmaker couldn't help but ship them; they complemented each other so well. But that was a distraction for another time.
Today, she'd secured her first major funding—through a strategic partnership with a prominent healthcare company, one of the many she and Temari had carefully vetted. The excitement coursed through her, bubbling up like an effervescent drink. She wanted to share the news, but there was only one person she really wanted to celebrate with: Sasuke.
Though Sasuke had been avoiding her for the last two weeks, she found herself unable to suppress the desire to share this victory with him. She hounded Kimimaro for Sasuke's current whereabouts, hoping beyond hope that he was somewhere in the palace. Luck was on her side—he was in a meeting in his private office. Without thinking too much about it, Sakura found herself marching toward that part of the palace, her heart light with anticipation.
"Hello, hello," she greeted Team Hebi stationed outside his door, rolling her eyes at Suigetsu, who gave her a playful wink. Karin and Juugo inclined their heads in acknowledgment, and Kimimaro, ever-dutiful, stopped five paces behind her.
Sakura hesitated at the door, suddenly nervous. She remembered the panic on Sasuke's face that night when he'd pulled away from her, the raw vulnerability that had made him run. It was etched into her memory, and the last thing she wanted was to trigger that again. But she pushed those thoughts aside, took a deep breath, and knocked. There was a beat of silence before she was beckoned inside.
She entered, trying to stay positive, her heart racing as she stepped into the room, hoping this would be the start of a better memory between them.
Inside the office, Sasuke was deep in discussion with Neji, who stood up the moment Sakura entered, clearly taken aback by her sudden appearance. Sasuke's reaction was more subtle—his brow furrowed slightly, confused by her presence. There was no immediate sense of pleasure in his face, and that stung more than Sakura expected.
"My Lady," Neji greeted, bowing with his usual formality.
"Sakura," Sasuke said, his voice neutral. "What brings you here?"
The words caught her off guard. In her head, she had imagined this scenario differently—she would rush in with excitement, share the good news, and Sasuke would be genuinely happy for her. Now, with Neji there and Sasuke's indifferent reaction, her confidence faltered.
"Oh—um," she stumbled, the words tangled in her throat. "We just secured the first bit of funding, and I just... I just wanted to share it with you." The excitement she'd felt earlier drained out, leaving her feeling unsure and flustered.
Neji, ever the diplomat, smiled. "Congratulations, my Lady. That's quite an achievement."
"Thank you," she replied, her voice steadier now, but her eyes drifted to Sasuke, waiting—hoping—for a reaction.
Sasuke gave a small nod. "Well done," he said. Just two simple words. But they made Sakura's heart lift. She beamed at him, and the unexpected brightness of her smile clearly unsettled him, causing a flicker of discomfort to cross his face.
Neji, ever the observant one, quickly stepped in. "Why don't you two celebrate with some wine?" he suggested smoothly, already pressing the intercom before Sasuke could object. "I'll take my leave."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving them in an awkward silence.
Sakura, unsure of what to do next, hesitantly took a seat opposite Sasuke's desk. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but neither of them spoke. Before long, a palace aide arrived with the wine. They waited in silence as he uncorked the bottle, poured two glasses, and exited, leaving them alone again.
Sakura found herself nervously reflecting on all the moments that had transpired in this very office—their biweekly meetings, the tension that had grown between them, their kiss, and his subsequent rejection. It all rushed back, and she could feel her cheeks flush with the memory. Flustered and unsure how to fill the silence, she impulsively downed her entire glass of wine in one go.
Several glasses later, the alcohol had loosened her tongue and numbed her nerves. They were escorted back to their quarters, where the tension between them only seemed to mount. When they finally stepped inside, Sakura whirled around and, in a bold, drunken move, pinned Sasuke against the door. Her eyes burned with intensity as she stared into his, and he raised his brows in surprise, looking momentarily caught off guard.
Without hesitation, Sakura leaned in, gently pressing her lips to his. The first touch made her exhale with relief, as if this was the moment she had been waiting for. But just as she started to lose herself in the kiss, Sasuke pulled away, gently pushing her back.
Her eyes blazed with frustration, and Sasuke felt like he was under a microscope. She scrutinized him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable, and then, in true Sakura fashion, she asked bluntly, "Are you asexual?"
Sasuke blinked, caught completely off guard. "What?"
"Do you not enjoy sex?"
His silence was enough to unsettle her further. "Do you not enjoy sex with me? Am I really bad at it?"
Sasuke rolled his eyes heavenward, looking annoyed by the conversation. "Shut up."
Undeterred, Sakura pressed on, slurring slightly. "Then, do you enjoy sex with the same gender?"
The room fell into stunned silence. Sasuke glared at her. "I thought we'd talked about this."
"I've noticed how you and Naruto—"
"Stop."
"I was just wondering—"
"Stop wondering."
"So... is it true?"
"No," Sasuke snapped, shuffling awkwardly. "Why do you even have to ask?"
"It's okay," Sakura replied, her voice suddenly soft and serious. "You can tell me. I'll keep your secret."
More silence.
"I promise," she added, her words slurring toward the end.
Sasuke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Go to sleep, Sakura. You're drunk."
"Psh." Sakura swayed slightly, her body off-balance, and Sasuke instinctively caught her before she could fall.
As he steadied her, she mumbled, "Why are you so obsessed with avoiding sex?"
His grip on her tightened slightly, a flash of frustration crossing his face. "Why are you so obsessed with having it?"
Painful embarrassment flickered across her features. "It's my duty, isn't it?"
"Do you want children right now?"
"No," she admitted, her voice quieter now.
"Then why—"
"Because I like it, okay?" she snapped, her words rushed. "It gives me pleasure. And you're the only person I can ask legally. Why does it bother you so much?"
The words hung in the air between them, the tension thick and unresolved. Sasuke stared at her for a long moment, his expression a mix of annoyance, guilt, and something else she couldn't quite place. Finally, he shook his head and, without another word, turned and walked away, leaving her standing there—once again feeling abandoned, confused, and utterly alone.
The week after that fateful encounter was excruciating for both of them. Sakura pretended she didn't remember a thing, throwing herself into her duties and responsibilities, while Sasuke—ever stoic—chose silence over confrontation. If something was bothering him, he'd never voice it, so why now? Their lives had resumed their normal course—except for the tangible tension that now hung between them, thick and suffocating.
Later in the week, they attended a state affair, a grand charity gala. It was one of Konoha's most anticipated social events, designed to raise funds for education and infrastructure initiatives across the kingdom. It was also Sakura's introduction to the high society aristocracy. She didn't like the snooty crowd, but she straightened her back, raised her head high, and plastered on a bright, practiced smile.
She made the rounds with Sasuke, offering pleasantries and small talk, carrying the conversation when necessary. It was clear to her now that Sasuke was not the type of man who indulged in idle chat—he would never ask someone about the weather or offer trivialities. That part of the job was hers now, and she accepted it. If being the face of warm connections helped her raise money for her charities, then it was worth the effort. Nothing—not her pride, not her ego—was bigger than helping those in need.
But what gave her pause that evening was an unexpected sight. As she was cornered by a group of well-dressed, gossiping women, her gaze wandered across the ballroom and landed on Sasuke. He was engaged in what appeared to be a very friendly hug with a woman—someone vaguely familiar, though Sakura couldn't quite place her. What stung was that Sasuke didn't seem as detached or distant as he had been with her these past weeks. In fact, there was a gentle resignation to the way he accepted the embrace, and then, to Sakura's horror, he kissed the woman's hand.
Baffled, then angry, and finally, burning with jealousy, she forced herself to smile and distract herself with more mindless chatter. But the image burned in her mind.
Later that night, as they walked back to their chambers, Sakura walked three steps ahead of Sasuke instead of the one step behind she was supposed to. Fuck it, she thought. What is this, the middle ages? I'll be three fucking steps ahead if I want to.
She didn't notice, but the night guards behind her did, watching her angry stride with quiet discomfort. They exchanged glances and silently prayed that Sasuke would not say anything to make matters worse. They could sense the impending storm.
When they finally reached their chambers, Sasuke went straight to his desk without a word, opening his laptop and focusing on work. He noticed her mood, her anger simmering beneath the surface, but he chose to ignore it. He pretended not to care. The sound of the bathroom door slamming made him flinch, though. The pin-drop silence that followed made him feel deeply uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat, pretending to focus on his emails.
Inside the bathroom, Sakura braced herself against the vanity, staring at her reflection. Her chest heaved with frustration as she fought against the tears welling in her eyes. She thought about what she'd seen—Sasuke, smiling and at ease with another woman—and felt a dragonfire of jealousy winding through her chest, squeezing painfully around her heart.
"It's fine," she told herself, swallowing the rising lump in her throat. "I didn't marry for love." The thought was meant to comfort her, but instead, it twisted painfully inside her, and her resolve crumbled. Her lips trembled, her eyes burned, and before she knew it, thick, hot tears began to fall.
They were a mix of anger, sadness, and frustration—anger at herself for feeling this way, for caring so much. I didn't marry for love, she reminded herself, but her chest ached with the reality of it. But I had expected to fall in it.
As the tears fell, she was caught between wanting to cry her heart out and hating herself for being so emotional. She had almost convinced herself to have a full-on cry-fest in the shower when there was a knock at the door.
It was crisp. Too formal to be anyone but Sasuke.
Wiping her eyes quickly, she steeled herself, taking two deep breaths before cracking the door open. There he stood, looking as awkward as she felt. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, and the sight of his discomfort made her bristle. "Yes?" she asked, her voice crisp despite the tears still threatening to fall.
For a moment, Sasuke said nothing. He just stared at her intensely, making her anger bubble hotter.
"Do you need the bathroom, Your Majesty?" she asked, her tone tart.
"No."
"Is there something you need my help with?" Her patience was thinning, her voice rising with the quiet fury simmering inside her. He fidgeted—subtly, but enough for her to notice. "Well?" she pressed.
"I've been informed that you're—upset," he finally said, his tone clipped, as though the admission cost him something
"You've been informed?" she seethed. "By who?"
He shifted uncomfortably, clearly regretting the conversation, but before he could answer, she spoke again, opening the door wider. "Whoever it was, they're right. I am upset."
He looked slightly bewildered, which just fanned the flames of her anger and annoyance even higher. "I'm upset because I saw my husband indulge in a nice dalliance with some other woman while I was right across the room."
With every word uttered out of her mouth, his brows raise higher. They snicked into a quick frown as she finished.
"Dalliance?" he repeated, looking slightly angry himself now, which made her bristle even more. But most embarrassingly, she felt her mouth returning to that sad, pre-cry moue again, which just fueled her anger even more. "Yes!" she actually yelled at him. "Hugging and being kissed while I was right there! Watching! Smiling like you've – you're – well you've never smiled at me like that, for sure!"
Her hands were on her hips now, and she knew that she was spewing nonsense because His Majesty was in a very precarious position of monarchy, which could very well be destroyed with a windfall of an affair, and logically, she knew that he was not stupid (or emotionally available) enough, but she was feeling sad, mad and irrational, so she wanted to yell and make him yell in return as well.
His Majesty, on the other hand, had recoiled a bit. When he gathered himself, he too looked angry. "Hugging and – what? That was a distant relative. Family."
"Oh," she said, not letting the wind blow out of her sails. "So that's your kink," she continued, relishing his flabbergasted look before finally slamming the door in his face.
A hot shower made her feel better, but when she came out, she found Sasuke standing in the middle of the room still looking partially shell shocked, partially annoyed, and slightly disbelieving. Like he'd been waiting for her to come out so they could continue their spat from before.
She was feeling a lot calmer now, so she decided not to engage with him further.
"Kink?" he asked her dryly, looking grim and amused at the same time. "Really, Sakura?"
She'd always found it sexy when he called her by her name, but she refused to be aroused tonight. Instead, she went over to her side of the bed and started assembling the covers, "Yes, Your Majesty." She answered. "Kink. It's fine. We all have our fetishes. If it's familial relations that get your flag to go full mast, then I guess its fine. Gross, but fine. It would have been nice to know before we got married, but I guess we can't all have– "
She stopped because in a few powerful, fluid movements, he was right in front of her. "What the fuck?" he said succinctly,
She scoffed. "Indeed."
Perhaps sassing him had not been the best plan, because he came closer and she stepped backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She had a split-second of déjà vu of their first night, but then he caught her by the arms and set her right before she could fall and that was all the cold reality that she needed. "What," he repeated, "the fuck, Sakura?"
His self-righteous fury made her bristle again. She decided to be completely straight with him. "Your Majesty," she took a deep breath. "You haven't touched me since our wedding night. On occasion, you've made me feel like crap. When I touch you, you recoil. You act as if you're absolutely disgusted even if our hands touch. You never take my arm when we're announced. What am I to assume? That you're completely, irrevocably in love with me? Fuck that! And today – you were," she took a deep breath, calmed herself a notch, fought back the tears, and took comfort from his stricken expression. "Today I saw you smile and be happy and not be completely tense in front of some woman. I am hurt. I am jealous. I am questioning my life choices. And if I snap at you, understand that you deserve so."
Her words hung between them, raw and full of truth. And when she finally wrenched herself free from his hold, she felt a strange sense of relief, even as she bundled herself under the covers, tears still stinging her eyes.
Sasuke stood there, utterly speechless. Her words echoed in his mind, rattling around like loose stones, each one hitting harder than the last. He wanted to say something, anything to refute her accusations, but the truth of her pain left him frozen. For someone who had always prided himself on being stoic, calm, and in control, he now felt none of those things. His mind scrambled for a response, but his mouth refused to cooperate.
He looked at her, tucked beneath the blankets, her back turned to him. The silence in the room grew heavy, oppressive even. For a few slow, agonizing seconds, Sasuke just stared, his thoughts a tangled mess of guilt, frustration, and confusion. How had he managed to hurt her this much without even realizing it? How had everything spiraled so far out of control?
But words had never been his strength. He wasn't someone who could easily convey his feelings, especially not when confronted so rawly. Instead, he did what he always did—retreated. Without saying a word, he turned and walked away from her, leaving the bedroom and slipping into the darkness of his own thoughts.
The next few days were just as awkward as they'd been before, but there was a shift—small, barely noticeable, but there. He no longer recoiled from her touch, but he didn't reach for her hand either. He didn't stop to speak with her, but he tried to be less stiff when they walked side by side at public events, relaxing his posture even if it was a conscious effort.
It wasn't much—just a few small, almost imperceptible changes—but for Sasuke, it was his way of showing her that he was trying, even if words failed him. He was still crap at handling emotions, but he didn't want to push her further away. So, he hoped she noticed the subtle shift in his actions, even if he couldn't yet bring himself to express what she needed to hear.
Month 6
Sasuke's attempts to fix things with Sakura through small gestures were clearly failing. He could sense her slipping further away, hurt by the walls he kept putting up. He'd tried once to hold her hand, carefully working up the courage, and even felt the familiar charge that always sparked between them when they touched. But then, doubt crept in, and he pulled back, her reaction reflecting his own hesitation and widening the distance between them. Frustrated and unable to figure out how to repair the rift he'd caused, he became sulky, angry—at her, but mostly at himself.
In a rare moment of desperation, he dialed Naruto's private line. "Hey, bastard! Long time no see—kidding, saw you yesterday," Naruto joked, immediately picking up on Sasuke's hesitation as silence stretched between them.
"Sasuke…everything okay?" Naruto's voice softened, suddenly serious, but the concern grated at Sasuke, his own frustration making him feel exposed. He muttered, "Nothing," and ended the call.
He felt lost. His mind drifted back to Itachi's words, advice given long before things had become this messy: Don't be a fool, Sasuke—if you've found someone who makes you better, don't let your own doubts get in the way. The memory of Itachi hit him with fresh pain, and without fully realizing it, Sasuke found himself walking toward Itachi's quarters, his security detail shadowing him. He stood outside, feeling the absence of his brother like a void he couldn't fill. The reality that he'd never again turn to Itachi for counsel settled heavy on his chest. Just then, the door creaked open, and Izumi looked out, her face pale but softened by an understanding smile.
"I thought you might stop by," she murmured, stepping aside to let him in.
Sasuke was too surprised by her perceptiveness to decline her invitation inside. He sat awkwardly as Izumi prepared him coffee, knowing he'd prefer it over tea. She placed the cup before him and took a seat opposite, a sad smile flickering across her face.
"You miss him," she said softly, her voice tinged with a quiet grief that made his chest tighten.
He took a sip, grateful for the warmth, yet words felt distant. How did one describe the ache of losing someone who was both a brother and a compass in life? He simply nodded.
"I miss him too," Izumi added, her gaze turning distant. "But I like to think he's at peace now, far from the pain."
Sasuke lowered his gaze, feeling his throat constrict as the enormity of Itachi's absence sank in. For a moment, the silence felt almost comforting, a space shared in mutual sorrow. He could feel her eyes on him, searching, but he didn't know how to respond.
"It's okay, Sasuke," she said gently, sensing his struggle. He took a breath, managing a small nod.
Then, with a playful shift in her tone, she asked, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, Your Majesty?"
The change threw him off. "I…" He started, but the words faltered. How did he explain that he was an idiot who had tangled himself into hurting his wife, all while desperately missing the brother he couldn't turn to anymore? He took another sip instead, the bitterness grounding him.
Izumi studied him thoughtfully, piecing things together. "Is this about My Lady, Sakura?"
The question startled him, almost making him choke. She smiled knowingly, her gaze warm yet laced with something else.
"Look, Sasuke," she began, "maybe it's not my place—maybe it's no one's place anymore—but you've always been… a bit dense about emotions." Her look was gentle but unyielding. "Whatever it is you've said or done, undo it. Apologize, give her flowers, do something. Just… don't let her slip away."
She paused, looking heavenward as tears glimmered in her eyes. She repeated something Itachi had once said: "If you're lucky enough to find a good partner, appreciate them."
And Sasuke understood. Izumi left the rest unsaid, but he could see it clearly—the regret of waiting too long, of not cherishing the time left. Her words resonated, sinking deep into the ache he'd tried so hard to ignore. He could feel Itachi's voice in her reminder, as if his brother were urging him, one last time, not to let his own fears blind him to what he could lose.
By the time he left Izumi's, Sasuke was drained, the weight of the day hanging heavy on his shoulders. As he made his way to his quarters, he sighed, hoping for a moment of quiet—until he received a call from palace security. Naruto was at the gates, demanding to be let in. Despite his exhaustion, Sasuke ordered them to escort Naruto to his private offices.
Naruto burst in without preamble. "Oi, what was that call earlier?" he asked, direct as ever.
Sasuke, too tired to respond with his usual sarcasm, just gave him a dry look. "Why are you really here?"
Naruto rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Sassy. I only have half an hour—ten minutes already wasted. So, let's get to it. I'm pretty sure you've screwed things up with Sakura somehow." He raised a hand as Sasuke started to protest. "Because let's face it, you're hardly this tongue-tied about politics. When it comes to emotions, though…" Naruto raised an eyebrow. "You're pretty damn inept."
"Get out," Sasuke grit out, feeling cornered.
"And I will—believe me, I'd rather be in bed," Naruto sighed. He studied Sasuke's face intently, then muttered, "You're acting weird. Is this some kind of performance anxiety?"
Sasuke's face flared red, both angry and mortified. Naruto, reading his expression, smirked. "Or not. But it's something to do with… intimacy, yeah?"
Sasuke's pained expression confirmed it, and Naruto grinned. "Alright, so what's the deal?"
Sasuke hesitated, his pride warring with his frustration. "She's… angry."
Naruto rolled his eyes. "Over what?"
"Intimate… stuff."
Naruto raised an eyebrow, motioning with his hands, urging him to continue. Sasuke's voice was barely above a whisper. "Lack of it. Not enough of it."
Naruto knew him enough to deduce he won't speak anything else, so he just looked at his watch and continued with his prompt. "Right, you've already said it's not performance issues - so what is it? Are you holding back?"
Sasuke's blank, embarrassed face was answer enough for him.
"You fucking bastard," said Naruto, rubbing his hands over his face, clearly very frustrated. "What's this about?"
Sasuke didn't know how to articulate his intimacy issues - that he'd been scared of not being enough for her—so much so that he'd actually manifested it to reality and how she was pulling away and he didn't even know where to try and fix things, but he really liked her and it was killing him that she was miserable because of him.
"Look," said Naruto. "I don't know what this is about, but if she's upset about lack of intimacy—whatever that means—then just—do it more, you know. If you need help, I can send you some links to classy porn—"
"Don't," Sasuke advised him, voice dangerous. "Go there."
"Okay, relax," Naruto grinned, then continued. "Just seduce her or something. Show her you care."
By the time Naruto left, Sasuke is exhausted but oddly lighter, as if a weight he hadn't known he was carrying had eased slightly. Naruto's presence had been loud, invasive, and unrelentingly direct, but somehow, it had stirred something inside him—an awareness of just how badly he'd messed things up with Sakura by overthinking and keeping his feelings in check. He had kept his distance, wanting to shield himself from any attachment or vulnerability, only to realize that he'd ended up hurting her.
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Sasuke found himself replaying Naruto's words. Just seduce her. Show her you care. It was laughably straightforward, but as he thought about it, he realised that his reluctance to act—his avoidance—was the very thing making them both miserable.
Sasuke shut his eyes, Naruto's pointed words echoing in his mind, prodding at every insecurity he'd buried under layers of avoidance. But now, for the first time, he saw a way forward. He didn't need more distance or silence. He needed to act—to show Sakura that he was not indifferent, that he cared deeply, that he had just been an idiot.
Inhaling slowly, he made a silent decision. No more hiding, no more second-guessing. Tomorrow, he would set things in motion to bridge the gap he'd unwittingly created. He would show her, not through empty gestures, but through real intimacy, through sharing pieces of himself he'd hidden away. It was time he stopped letting fear dictate his actions.
tbc
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