Chapter 12
Month 10
Standing in the lavishly decorated room for the wedding attire selection, the tension between both Sasuke and Sakura was palpable. The space was grand, with rolls of fabric, sketches, and mannequins adorned in both traditional and Western wedding attire. Despite the elegant setting, there was a heaviness in the air that no one could shake.
Sakura stood near the center, her posture composed but her eyes distant. She wore the weight of everything on her shoulders—Itachi's declining health, the wedding preparations, and the growing emotional gap between her and Sasuke. Though she tried to put on a brave face, she felt deflated, like a balloon losing air.
Mikoto was there, along with Sakura's own parents. Ino had come too, offering her support, clearly very excited to have been inducted to be part of the royal wedding, though she kept shooting worried glances at Sakura, sensing the shift in her friend's demeanor. Tenten was present in her professional capacity, going over wedding logistics, while Chouji represented Shikamaru's PR team to ensure the public image was carefully crafted.
Fugaku wasn't there—he had official business to attend to, likely overseeing some high-level political negotiation. Neji stood quietly near the entrance, as always a pillar of calm, waiting for Sasuke's word when needed. Hinata was by Sakura's side, taking diligent notes as the wedding attire options were presented.
Kurenai Yuugo, the designer chosen for both Sakura and Sasuke's outfits, was graceful and focused, presenting a series of demo outfits for the wedding. A series of mannequins were set up around the room, showcasing the shortlisted options for further perusal.
Sakura noticed Mebuki examining the pure white kimono with delicate silver embroidery, featuring intricate crane motifs symbolizing longevity and good fortune, paired with a matching white tsuno-kakushi headdress.
On her right, Ino and Hinata seemed to be leaning towards a soft silk concoction with scattered pearls sewn into the fabric, paired with a matching pearl-encrusted hair accessory.
Then there was the white silk with gold leaf accents woven into the fabric, giving a soft glow as the intricate designs caught the light, which Kurenai had promised would have the bride shine with regal elegance.
The whole situation seemed absolutely surreal, as if she were living in a nightmare-dream - as if fate were having a good laugh at her situationship - a queen-to-be, with potential to be beloved by all but her king. She'd barely had any interaction with Sasuke (although she'd been told that she'd been cleared to have his private phone number - "No, thank you," she'd replied to Kimimaru a little coldly when he'd offered to save it in her phone and he'd backed off a little nervously.) She'd thrown herself into her studies with renewed (angry!) passion, vowing to become the best damn queen there ever was - so much so, she'd even enlisted Hinata to have conversations with her in German - a language she quite struggled with even now, after months of tutoring. In the evenings, she'd sit down with her laptop, reading through lengthy research journals on mental health, causes, rectification plans and more - writing her own assignments late into the night, doing critical analysis of all available subject matter, before emailing her conclusions and detailed recommendation plans to Mikoto and Izumi - so far, she'd sent three original papers to them in four weeks. She'd only ever received feedback on one.
As she side-eyed his Lordship from the corner of her eye, cursing the flattering lighting of the room that made him seem like an expressionless, immortalised, moon marble, she also caught Mikoto's eye, who seemed to wordlessly convey her concern through a half-smile, half-frown, looking like she wanted to have a word. The only word Sakura wanted to have with her was regarding her papers, and vowed to steer the conversation in that direction if she was caught.
"My Lady," said Kurenai, drawing Sakura out of her buzzing thoughts (her mind was always buzzing these days, one anxiety giving way to another, a rollercoaster of emotions that even had her dreaming of what her next move might be).
"Huh?" she said, feeling rather graceless, as she struggled to understand the context of the conversation.
"Which one do you prefer?" Kurenai provided helpfully. "I think this one would be perfect for the ceremony," she helpfully provided, her voice soft but sure, face angled towards the second mannequin. "It's elegant, but it also has a modern twist with the delicate pearl-work."
Sakura barely responded, nodding absently as she stared at the kimono. It was beautiful, but the excitement she should have felt was absent. Her mind wandered back to Sasuke, who stood at the far end of the room, looking distracted and disconnected. He was listening, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere, and she - she felt a spark of intense, extraordinary anger at him. For the first couple of months of their situationship, he'd deliberately been quietly charming, attentive, and approachable - luring her in a (what she now considered) false sense of security (and a false sense of attraction!), and now - now when she'd actually wanted them to become something, he'd pulled away. She was slowly realising that he wasn't as emotionally mature as she'd thought him to be - hot, then cold, then hot, then cold forevermore - and the idea was unnerving. If she were quite honest, she'd found the idea of going through with the marriage in the aftermath of the fallout quite challenging, feeling lonelier than ever as she hadn't been able to share any of her emotional turmoil. She'd briefly thought about confiding in Ino, but…her mind had foolishly connected the personal lives of his and her royal highness as state affairs, and she'd be remiss if she were badmouthing him to anyone, much less her best friend, no matter how insensitive and borderline cruel he'd been.
Miserably, she listened as everyone but the person who mattered to her the most gave their two cents in what dress should be picked.
Mikoto glanced at her son and sighed quietly. She could sense the distance between him and Sakura, and it troubled her. But she said nothing, instead focusing on the matter at hand. "Sasuke," she called softly, "what do you think of this hakama for the ceremony?"
Sasuke looked over, blinking for a moment as if brought back to reality. He glanced at the traditional hakama that Kurenai had laid out—dark, elegant, and regal - the only option in the room, as if she'd been told to keep things brief by his team beforehand. "It's fine," he said, his voice neutral.
Mikoto, ever observant and laden by her own emotional weight, opened her mouth to intervene - to give some material advise, perhaps lend a shoulder to relieve some of his burdens. But before the conversation could continue, Neji quietly approached Sasuke, his expression calm but serious. "Your Majesty, there's an urgent matter that requires your attention. A foreign dignitary has arrived unexpectedly."
Sasuke's jaw tightened, clearly annoyed by the interruption, but he nodded. "I'll be there shortly," he said.
As Sasuke prepared to leave, Mikoto took it upon herself to finalize his attire selection, approving the hakama and other details in his absence, noting how Sakura had become more tense then ever at his departure.
Once Sasuke left, Ino sidled up next to Sakura, her brow furrowed with concern. "You okay, Forehead?" she asked, her tone playful but laced with genuine worry.
Sakura gave her a half-hearted smile. "I'm fine," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. Ino wasn't fooled for a second.
"You don't look fine. You look like you'd rather be anywhere else," Ino pressed gently, giving her arm a supportive squeeze. "If something's up, you can tell me, you know."
Sakura glanced at Ino, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she wasn't even sure how to explain what she was feeling. "I don't know, Ino." she started, thinking of a way to deflect the conversation, to share her feelings without sharing the actual truth, "I just… thought this would be different. I thought I'd be excited. I thought…" she trailed off, knowing what she wanted to say, but not having the guts to go through with it. I thought I'd have him in my corner.
Ino's eyes softened. "Hey, I'm here. I'll always be here. And you're not going through this alone."
Sakura gave her a half-hearted smile.
"And look," said Ino, gesturing towards the wider room. "Pretty dresses! How can anyone be sad when surrounded by such gorgeousness?"
"I wonder too, Ino," Sakura replied, giggling a little despite herself.
After the final wedding dress was selected (Sakura had gone with the pearl one), and the tension of the morning had finally eased, goodbyes been said to her parents and Ino, Mikoto had invited Sakura to a private lunch in her quarters. Sakura had hesitated for a moment but accepted, knowing that it would be rude to decline - besides, she had a WIP paper in her tablet that she wanted to discuss and would make a wonderful distraction from any conversations she didn't want to participate in.
Mikoto's quarters were warm and inviting, filled with personal touches that gave the space an intimate, comforting atmosphere. As they sat down to a light meal, the older woman smiled gently, sensing the weight on Sakura's shoulders.
"You've been handling all of this remarkably well, Sakura," Mikoto began, her tone soft but perceptive. "But I can see that something's troubling you - most likely, Sasuke, if I'm not wrong." Here, she gave a small, gentle smile.
Sakura managed a polite smile in return. "I'm fine, really."
Mikoto gave her a look, eyes briefly flitting to the laptop that sat open on her study table in the corner, as if silently challenging her, and a quick glance had Sakura recognise the conceptual framework she'd designed for one of her papers. Really, her smile said now. You're fine?
Sakura squirmed as Mikoto studied her, her wise eyes betraying no judgment but understanding. "Sakura," she started, "I know it's not easy. You're both being pulled in so many directions. I wanted to tell you that... I understand what you're feeling. Sasuke can be difficult to read, especially now."
Sakura's heart thudded painfully at the words. She hadn't expected Mikoto to notice, let alone address the strange distance between her and Sasuke. She bit her lip, unsure how to respond.
"Please understand that he's is under a tremendous amount of pressure," Mikoto continued, her voice soft and measured. "He wasn't groomed to be in this position. It was supposed to be Itachi. Now, with Itachi's illness and everything else, Sasuke's trying to figure out how to handle the weight of the kingdom and his personal grief at the same time. He's grieving his brother... grieving the life he thought he'd have. And on top of that, the council pressures him constantly to follow their way, while he tries to carve out his own."
Sakura lowered her gaze, her hands resting in her lap. She had known about Itachi's declining health, of course, but hearing the pain Sasuke was carrying from Mikoto's perspective made it feel heavier, more real. And the reminder of the council's constant presence sent a chill through her. The pressure on Sasuke was immense, she realized, far more than she had fully grasped.
"Sasuke's always had a strong sense of duty," Mikoto went on, reaching across the table to place a gentle hand on Sakura's. "But he also needs time to find his way. With a little love and patience, he'll come around. He just needs someone who understands what he's going through."
Sakura nodded, her heart feeling conflicted. Part of her wanted to believe Mikoto, to trust that Sasuke would open up eventually. But another part of her wasn't sure. The distance between them felt so vast at times, like they were walking two entirely different paths. How long would it take? How much patience did she really have?
As the conversation drifted to lighter topics, Sakura's mind was still preoccupied, turning over Mikoto's words again and again. Even as they parted ways, a knot of uncertainty remained lodged in her chest. Could she really wait for Sasuke to come around? Would he ever let her in?
As Sakura returned to her quarters, her heart was heavy with doubt, and the future still felt uncertain. But one thing was clear—whatever was next, she'd have to figure out how to move forward, with or without Sasuke's emotional openness.
Month 11
The dance studio was bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. Sakura, flushed and breathless from her lesson, wiped the sweat from her brow and adjusted the strap of her tank top. Her limbs ached from keeping up with Rock Lee's relentless energy. Lee, the classical dance maestro tasked with her lessons, was a whirlwind of enthusiasm. His compliments were frequent, sometimes flirty, though always in the name of passion for the dance. He had a way of making her uncomfortable, but Sakura respected his dedication and verve.
Usually, she practiced with Hinata, who was a calming presence in these lessons, guiding her through the more complicated motions with patience and kindness. On rare occasions, when no one else was available, a highly uncomfortable Kimimaru would step in as her partner. But today, as she moved through the steps, she was not-quite but still stunned to see a familiar figure standing in the doorway.
Sasuke.
She swallowed. She'd been briefed that today would be their one, mutual session and she'd been quietly dreading/anticipating it in like, but the sight of him standing there, eyes catching hers for a brief moment before he looked away, left her reeling. She hadn't seen him for over four weeks now. He had canceled one of their biweekly meetings due to urgent state affairs, and as much as she wanted to pretend it hadn't bothered her, the disappointment had cut deep. Now, seeing him, all those complicated feelings resurfaced—anger, confusion, but more surprisingly, a strange warmth she wasn't prepared to acknowledge.
Sasuke said nothing as he handed his coat and tie to Neji, who quietly took a seat in the periphery, dutifully opening his tablet. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and stepped onto the dance floor, his movements deliberate, his presence commanding.
The room seemed to tighten around them, an electric chemistry filling the air as he approached. Sakura straightened herself, trying to compose her features, but her body betrayed her, a flush rising to her cheeks as they took their positions on Lee's command. His hand settled on her lower back and their fingers intertwined, sending sharp tingles shooting up her arm and down her spine.
Sakura could feel the heat radiating from him, and as she looked up, their eyes locked, a slow burn igniting between them - quite a surprise after the way they'd let things simmer for the past few weeks. He looked away for a brief moment, but when their gazes met again, it was different. More intense. More challenging.
"You've been hiding, haven't you?" Sakura muttered under her breath as they began to move, their steps in sync, gliding across the floor effortlessly.
Sasuke's lips twitched, his eyes glinting with amusement, which gave Sakura a quiet internal pause, because he'd best been bristly with her since that whole intimacy debacle. What he said next surprised her even more. "I didn't realize you'd missed me," he replied coolly, his tone clipped, yet underlaced with a wryness only he could pull off.
She narrowed her eyes, not willing to let him get away with it. "Missed you?" she scoffed. "I've been doing just fine - you should know, you do have regular briefings on me, don't you?"
He raised an eyebrow, barely shaking his head as if truly entertained by her remark. "Is that why you're glaring at me like you're trying to burn a hole in my head?"
"I'm not glaring." Her voice was sharp, almost daring him to argue.
His grip on her waist subtly tightened as they turned. "Could've fooled me."
Their banter bounced between them effortlessly, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Sakura didn't know when it happened, but she realized, with a jolt, that everyone else in the room had slowly drifted toward the exits. Lee and Hinata were lingering by the door, pretending to busy themselves, while Kimimaru had disappeared outside, probably to accompany Sasuke's own detail, no longer standing guard inside the room. It was as if everyone had agreed to give them space, sensing the palpable tension between them.
As the music began to fade, they involuntarily drew closer. His hand still on her back, hers resting against his chest, Sakura could feel every breath he took, every muscle tightening as they moved together. She found herself leaning in, her eyes fluttering shut as her heart pounded in her chest. She was ready—ready for the moment that felt inevitable, ready for her lips to touch her own, feeling like all would be completely forgiven if he would just freaking kiss her!.
But just as their lips were about to meet, she felt Sasuke's sharp intake of breath. He pulled away, a soft gasp escaping his lips, breaking the moment as if it had never happened. The suddenness of it left her stunned, almost bereft, the anger and frustration rising in her chest like a tidal wave.
A few, quiet beats of silence passed, as the background music drew to a crescendo, then slowly lilted away.
Finally, Sasuke spoke. "We decided on intimacy when necessary." His voice was clipped, and he was avoiding her gaze.
Her voice was ice as she spat back, "Are you really saying that now?" Now, as in, really? She wanted to scream, because she'd felt spellbound in that moment.
"Nothing has changed," he replied, his words cold but somehow pained, as if it hurt him to say it.
Sakura's eyes narrowed, her frustration mounting. "When does it become necessary, then?"
Sasuke was silent, his face taut, struggling to maintain his composure. He looked at her as if torn, his body tense with emotions he refused to let surface.
"When?" she demanded, her voice rising, her patience fraying.
"You know exactly when," he said, his voice low, almost resigned.
Her eyes blazed. "The wedding night? After?"
Sasuke's breath hitched - perhaps, she thought, he was thrown by her audacity. His gaze was unreadable, but she could see the strain in his posture, the conflict raging inside him.
Sakura let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow in the large, empty room. "Fine. I dare you to back out of it now."
Without waiting for a response, she stepped away from him, ripping herself from the moment, from the electricity that still lingered in the air. She grabbed her bag, her shoulders tense as she strode toward the door, not looking back. Her footsteps echoed in the empty space, and as she left the room, the weight of their encounter pressed heavily on her chest.
Sasuke stood still, watching her leave, his hands clenched at his sides, his face set in stone, but his heart pounding in his chest. Neither of them could deny it now—something had changed. Something dangerous. Something neither of them were ready for.
Month 12
The last month before the wedding was an overwhelming rush of rehearsals, fittings, and briefings. Sakura's regular lessons had been put on hold, to be resumed only after the wedding was over. Every day, she was ushered into dress fittings, ceremonies rehearsals, and countless logistical sessions with Tenten regarding the finer details of the wedding day—where she needed to go, who would accompany her, and even which cars she'd be traveling in. The most intricate of these discussions, however, were about the cameras. Shikamaru had brought in Deidara, an expert on public image and facial presentation, to coach her (and she suspected Sasuke) on what expressions to wear at each crucial moment, how to interact with each other in front of the cameras, and how to communicate emotion without words. She'd been made to spend countless hours in front of the mirror, being coached on the finer details of what might be construed as "aloof" versus what might be accepted as "polite." She'd practiced "shyly in love" until it felt like her face would crack with the effort of it.
Deidara, flamboyant and fastidious, went over every detail with an almost artistic enthusiasm, emphasizing the significance of each glance, smile, and tear. The PR team had even debated whether or not Sakura should shed actual tears during the ceremony, eventually deciding that her eyes could "swim with emotion" but avoid crying, as the media might interpret it as sadness.
Despite the many intricacies of the wedding, the highlight was the single rehearsal for the Shinto ceremony, the heart of their wedding, where tradition and family would be honored. It was the only time Sasuke could spare to attend, and though Sakura had studied the ritual at length, walking through it with him was a whole other experience. Dressed in mock versions of their ceremonial attire, they practiced the steps in the ornate hall, their movements carefully synchronized.
There was undeniable tension in the air, not just from the importance of the event, but from the lingering emotions between them. Their interactions were charged, especially given Sakura's recent bold challenge about their wedding night. Each step they took, every glance exchanged, seemed to carry unspoken words between them.
After the rehearsal, the day took an unexpectedly awkward, almost absurd turn. Their final session turned out to be a mutual one—a "lesson in the art of intimacy" taught by none other than Jiraiya, the palace's eccentric advisor on relationships and, as he liked to put it, "the finer things in life." When Sasuke and Sakura entered the room, they were greeted by a grinning Jiraiya, who seemed entirely too excited for the occasion.
"The two of you," Jiraiya began with a dramatic wink, "do know where things go, right?"
Sakura's face instantly flushed a deep red, and Sasuke's jaw tightened, his expression a mixture of suppressed annoyance and growing discomfort. The lesson was filled with awkwardness from the start. Diagrams, exaggerated postures, and bizarrely specific advice on what foods set the mood were spread across the room. Jiraiya narrated each intimate posture with far too much enthusiasm, even offering unsolicited wisdom on what both men and women "liked" during their first night together.
Sakura felt like she was on fire, her embarrassment almost unbearable as Jiraiya rambled on about seduction techniques. Every now and then, Sasuke would shift beside her, equally tense and mortified. At one point, their hands brushed accidentally, and the electric tension between them crackled, making Sakura jump as though she'd been shocked. The air between them was thick, charged not just with the awkwardness of the lesson but with the palpable frustration building between them—sexual and otherwise.
By the time they were released, both Sasuke and Sakura were just relieved to have escaped. They lingered near the door, knowing it would be the last time they'd see each other before the wedding. The silence between them was heavy, weighed down by everything unsaid.
Sasuke, always the formal one, gave a curt nod. "Best of luck," he said, his voice cool but clipped, before he turned to walk away.
Impulsively, Sakura reached out and caught his hand. The brief contact was enough to make her heart race, but she quickly let go, as though realizing she had overstepped. She opened her mouth, struggling to voice something that had been eating away at her during these past few months.
"Have you—" she began, faltering as she searched for the right words. "Have you ever… had sex before?"
Sasuke froze. His expression was unreadable, though the faintest hint of color crept into his ears. He looked around quickly, noting that their security details and PA's have had the foresight to leave the immediate vicinity, leaving them in the isolation of the corridor. She followed his gaze as well, and was surprised at his deflection, "Have you?"
Sakura, now blushing furiously, stumbled through her thoughts. "I thought the raffle… well, they did that medical exam, right? I assumed… I thought maybe it would've been on the record, maybe even worked in my favor."
Sasuke's brow arched slightly, an amused twitch at the corner of his lips. That part of the evaluation had never been of interest to him, but now, he found himself curious. She had been selected, after all.
"A virgin?" Sakura whispered, her voice small. "I mean… not in the strictest sense. I've done things, but never… the actual thing."
Sasuke, somewhat dazed by this conversation, found himself blurting, "Neither have I."
Sakura blinked, clearly stunned. "Wait—what?"
He nodded, looking down and feeling the weight of that admission. Sasuke had spent most of his youth immersed in studies, responsibilities, and his duties as prince. Romance and physical attraction had always seemed like distant, secondary concerns—until now. Until her. The complexities of his growing emotions for Sakura had stirred something inside him, and the realization left him unsettled.
He caught her wide-eyed look, and the awkwardness between them intensified. Feeling exposed, Sasuke's walls rose up once again. Without saying another word, he quickly turned on his heel and left, leaving Sakura standing there, heart pounding, stunned by both the conversation and its abrupt ending.
tbc
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