Aniramj Art!!

Sasuke glanced up at the cloudy sky, a hand holding the brim of his hat as he tilted his head back. “Indeed.”

Was he mocking her poor conversation choice? Sakura bit her lip. “It is warm for spring.”

This time he didn’t bother with words. Sasuke nodded.

And that was the end of that.

Again.

Sakura clenched her fist, forcing her breathing to remain calm. No one could blame her for a lack of trying. Conversations were a two-way street and his was firmly no exit. Looking over her shoulder, Sakura shot a desperate, pleading look at her handmaid, Shizune. 

What should I do?

Shizune unhelpfully smiled and shrugged. Try again.

Sakura glared. If it were that easy, they’d have had a conversation longer than five questions by now. Also, why was she always the one doing the hard work? Maybe he should sweat for a topic for once.

Still. It could be worse. Sasuke wasn’t cruel or rude. There were no rumours of debauchery, gambling, drinking or any of the usual vices. Whether their distance shrank or stayed the same, she could handle it.

Sasuke halted. “It is still blooming.”

Sakura stopped and stared at him. Had he heard her thoughts? Caught up in the realization that for once he had started talking, it took her a moment to register what he’d said. She followed his gaze to a cherry tree near the riverbank. A very pink cherry tree. It was just a part of a grove imported as a diplomatic gift for the Queen. Every April, the trees caused a stir as they flowered, marking the start of spring. 

It was mid-May.

Sakura gawked as they approached the lone blooming tree. “I thought they stopped flowering weeks ago?”

“They usually do.” Sasuke took off his hat and reached up, his fingers grazing the lowest blooms. “Do you know what they are called?”

Sakura didn’t have to hear in the homeland to know what he meant. The Uchiha family was an old, traditional family, with a lineage that could be traced back to Emperor Meiji. That hadn’t changed even when the family had branched out, some of them crossing the sea from Japan to England. Their diplomatic status left them as venerated guests and despite belonging to Victoria’s court, they still followed traditions that their cohorts had long abandoned.

“Sakura,” she answered wryly, tugging her pink hair. While her family had sworn fealty to their new country and Queen, to the people who had allowed them to leap status in a way that was impossible elsewhere, her mother had still taught her a little about Japan. Despite what everyone thought, they hadn’t abandoned all ties. Bitterly, Sakura added, “Even I know that much.”

Sasuke turned, frowning at her sharp tone. “I did not say otherwise.”

Sakura scoffed. He didn’t have to; she’d heard it all before. Nouveau riche upstarts, belonging to both courts, fitting into neither—the elite snobs who turned up their noses at her had forgotten it was her family’s wealth that allowed them to survive. 

She could only hope the Uchihas were different. Her money for their title; it was a fair trade, and she refused to be treated otherwise.

“Then I misunderstood,” she replied politely, faking a smile. 

Sasuke’s frown deepened. “I do n—”

The wind blew, stealing his words from him. Sakura squeaked as she clutched her hat, keeping it from flying away. Pink petals rained down, a tempest showering them both. When she looked up, the tree was half-bare. Whatever quirk had allowed it to bloom late wasn’t going to last much longer.

“The season is ov—” Her words died as she turned to Sasuke. His dark hair was streaked pink, the petals leaving him as spotted as a dalmatian. 

Sasuke carded a hand through his hair, dislodging some of the sakura blossoms. 

Unable to help herself, Sakura burst into laughter. “That’s a good look for you.”

Disgruntled, Sasuke raked his hair again, but a stubborn petal remained.

Something about his grumpy expression was surprisingly cute and Sakura laughed again as she stepped closer. Reaching up, she lightly batted away his hands. “Here, allow me.”

Sasuke flinched, almost stepping back, but something—pride?—kept him still. Which was good for her: with his height, standing on her toes barely cut it. Pinching the petal between her fingers, she chuckled as she rested on her heels once more. “There we go.”

Shizune gasped, “My lady!”

“So even you need help sometimes.” Sakura giggled as she pocketed the petal, missing his transfixed gaze as she turned to meet her chaperone.

2

Sakura had plans for her wedding. It was hard not to, with Ino as her best friend. Flowers, friends, a white gown, a loving groom…the idea had changed and refined over the years, but the core of it stayed the same. She wanted all of the trappings of a modern wedding.

Uchihas did not do modern.

Sakura sighed as she sat in front of the dresser mirror, watching as her maids painstakingly pinned her hair up. If she sighed any further, she’d hit her annual quota. Uchihas did traditional. Old-country traditional. Sakura couldn’t remember the last time she’d donned a kimono but needless to say, this was not how she had planned to wear it again.

She tugged her collar uncomfortably.

“You’re getting married soon,” a maid squealed as she arranged the make-up.

Another one chimed, “You look so pretty!” 

Sakura tried not to react as they delicately painted her lips and nails. The woman staring in the mirror didn’t feel like her. “Thank you.”

Perhaps she should consider herself lucky. Amongst the ladies she’d grown up with, Ino had eloped with a commoner and Hinata had married a foreign princess without even meeting her. Their marriages couldn’t have been what they’d dreamed of either. Only Tenten, who’d entered a loveless marriage with a local marquess, had dictated her own wedding.

From her letters, it also seemed that loveless didn’t mean joyless. Friendship had bloomed between her and her husband, one where they shared each other's interests and pastimes, even if they didn’t share a bed. A marriage of mutual respect, if not love.

Even after all these weeks, Sakura still remembered that day with the cherry blossoms, Sasuke’s grumpy expression as she touched his hair. The conversation had flowed after that, as though dislodging that petal had dislodged whatever was blocking his words. 

Mutual respect.

Perhaps Sakura could hope for that with Sasuke.

Knock. 

Sakura perked up. Who would visit her at this time? From behind her, Shizune glanced at her and Sakura nodded her approval. After a few minutes, Shizune returned with a puzzled expression and a bouquet of yellow tulips.

“From our master,” Shizune explained as she carefully set them on the dresser. 

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” the maids cooed.

Sakura reached forward with her unpainted hand, sliding a finger across the soft, yellow petals. The tulips were bright, contrasting against her white kimono. A bouquet she couldn’t carry, but one she had nonetheless.

Did he know? Did he also have the same worries that plagued her?

Sakura carefully extracted one flower, pressing it to her nose, breathing in its honey scent. “Shizune?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“I want to take this with me.” Sakura held up the tulip. Her hair was too short to braid it in, but maybe she could tuck it behind an ear, pin it to her collar, spread the petals in her locks. Her wedding might not be what she dreamed of, but she didn’t have to give up all her plans.

3

The Uchiha estate was vast. Sakura could walk for hours under the gentle tree canopy, the floral arches, the carefully manicured hedges and bushes and not see another soul. End to end, she would need a horse to cover the entire ground in a day. 

Which was precisely why she couldn’t believe her luck as she and Sasuke locked eyes.

Her husband, who she had barely seen aside from meals, while she was sitting extremely unladylike by the maze, as far from the main house as she could get. Even the gardeners hadn’t crossed paths with her, so how in the world, against all odds, had he found her there?

Sakura squeaked.

Sasuke merely stared. Somehow, his blank expression made the whole thing even more mortifying. In the privacy of their estate, his prosthetic was off, his sleeve dangling limply off his shoulder.

“I-I am not usually like this,” Sakura stammered, stumbling to her feet. Her movements were clumsy, her legs half-asleep, and she swayed.

Immediately, he grabbed her arm and steadied her. “Careful,” he warned.

“Really, I am not,” Sakura repeated, ignoring the warmth jolting up her arm. With her free hand, she straightened her dress and patted down her hair. God, she was a mess. And he was still staring at her. Was her hair still sticking up? Or was it—Sakura paled as she remembered she was supposed to be at her tutors right now. Marrying up into the Uchihas meant refining her skills even more. “I usually do not skip my lessons.”

She was rambling. It was a bad habit but she couldn’t stop now. “I merely required a short break.”

“It is fine,” Sasuke interrupted. His hand was still on her arm. The last time he’d touched her there had been their wedding night—slow, careful caresses, as though he was as unsure of what to do as she’d been. As though this was as new and nerve-wracking for him as it was for her.

And then they hadn’t shared a bed since, a fact that somehow both relieved and disappointed her.

Noticing her gaze, Sasuke let go of her abruptly. He cleared his throat, turning away, a single red ear poking out of his hair. “You do not have to explain yourself.”

“I see.” Sakura rubbed her arm absentmindedly. She could still feel his hand.

“As for the lessons…” Sasuke stated bluntly, “There is no need for you to attend them. It is unnecessary.” 

“What?” Sakura bristled, not liking the implications nor his tone. His words brought back memories of men sneering at her, disdainful of her desire to learn, to attend the men’s courses, to do more than just dress pretty and sip tea. “Why? Do you think they are wasted on me?”

“I did not say that.” Surprised by her rage, he clarified, “You do not have to attend if you do not wish to.”

That didn’t sound much better. Sakura eyed him doubtfully. “I wish to. I like learning. It is just…I also need a little personal time.”

Sasuke didn’t say anything. Was he judging her? Disappointed in her? 

“Not always, just…sometimes.” Her bad habit kicked in again. Somehow, she didn’t like the thought of him being disappointed. “You must have done this too. Sometimes.”

There was a long, dragged-out pause. “...never.”

Liar. While his expression remained deadpan, that pause spoke volumes. She could just picture him sneaking out of the estate, no doubt gallivanting with Naruto, the head of his knights. Still, she could play along. “You should try it. You might work better after.”

Another, longer pause before he replied, “I will think about it.”

Sakura giggled. Slowly, but surely, she was starting to understand him. Or at least read him better. That was a yes. It seemed her husband was more awkward than she’d expected. “Think hard.”

-x-

When Sakura entered her study for her next tutoring session, she was surprised to find a maid setting up a small vase of chamomile, goldenrod, and the smallest sunflower on her table. The yellow and white flowers brightened up the room and she glanced at the maid curiously.

“His grace thought this would help you focus,” the maid explained. 

“That is not what I meant by a break,” Sakura chuckled, picking up and twirling the sunflower.

4

Her husband was stiff. It surprised her, especially after how confidently he had joined her dance lesson, dismissing her practice partner with a cool look. While he knew the form perfectly, his hand slipping into hers, his other lightly holding her back, the Viennese waltz was more than just standing and looking pretty.

As the pianist played The Blue Danube, Sasuke guided Sakura across the marble floor, his movements stilted. It was like dancing with a wooden puppet. His grip was far too light, as though it burned him to touch her, and Sakura burst into laughter as he awkwardly tried to twirl them in another direction.

Despite all the rumours about Uchiha excellence, they weren’t quite as infallible as everyone believed. 

Sasuke stopped and retracted his hands. It wasn’t quite a pout, but he appeared put out, like a miffed cat.

That only made Sakura laugh louder. And here she thought that their first dance at next week’s ball would be an easy milestone. “I thought you were a far better dancer.”

There was a long silence before he grumbled, “...that is why we are practicing.”

“I would not call this practice, not like this.” Sakura took his hands before he could retreat any further. While she had expected the metal prosthetic to be cool, oddly enough his other hand was clammy as well. Setting one on her back, she instructed, “You have to hold me tighter.” 

Sasuke grunted.

She gripped his other hand. “If you do not, then we are not dancing together, are we?”

“...understood,” Sasuke muttered, looking away.

“Do not do that.” Sakura clucked, almost reaching for his face before thinking better of it. “You need to face me. Your partner.”

This time, she was certain his ears turned red, but before she could say anything, Sasuke turned. His eyes met hers, dark and burning with an unreadable expression, and her mouth went dry. Her limbs felt wooden as she followed his lead and if he noticed, Sasuke didn’t say anything.

-x-

Before they headed out to the ball, Sasuke stopped her. After several dance sessions, his hand found hers easily, clasping it and stopping her in her tracks. Carefully, he fastened a small diamond and pearl flower brooch to her dress, his fingers as stiff as they had been during that first dance.

“A flower?” she asked, lightly touching the delicate piece.

“A gardenia,” Sasuke clarified as he held out his arm. “We’re late.”

5

After half a year on the Uchiha estate, Sakura had come to know the rhythms of the manor, the routines of its inhabitants, the patterns of daily life. How her own life melded in with theirs. When she wanted company, she listened to the maids chatter as they hung the laundry. When she wanted an escape, she’d meander the gardens, more often than not bumping into Sasuke along the way.

And when she wanted to be alone, she went to the library in the morning. No one else was there at that time—not the butler, not Sasuke’s aid, and certainly not Sasuke himself.

Sakura felt a pang at the thought. Even if she entered his study today, she wouldn’t find him there. Sasuke was still out on business, as he had been for the last few weeks. When she had been invited to join him in the city, Sakura had declined, imagining the utter freedom of a vacant manor.

It had seemed perfect in theory.

And it had been perfect until her first breakfast. Sakura hadn’t realized just how used to Sasuke she’d gotten—their quiet chats over meals, the occasional surprise bump in the halls, the odd flower on her desk. Now her vase had remained empty save for one wilting sunflower she hadn’t had the heart to toss out yet.

Today though…Sakura smiled softly at the envelope in her hands. Wife, it had written on it in neat cursive. It was not an endearment in the least and yet it still sent a thrill through her. Carefully, she pried open the envelope and several folded sheets fell out, accompanied by dried petals.

Red, white, yellow…she recognized the crumpled carnation and smooth daisy petals, but the white petals were a mystery. Sakura giggled as she opened the letter. When they’d first met, she hadn’t taken Sasuke to be such a romantic, but it was hard to miss the signs now. Nearly every letter had a flower attached and she had long doubted that their accidental run-ins were as accidental as they’d seemed. 

Before Sakura could get far in the letter, she remembered where the white petals came from.

Clover.

White clover.

Distantly, she remembered reading about flowers and their meanings with Ino as a child. White clovers meant think of me.

What a funny coincidence. 

What did the others mean? Sakura tried to read the letter, but the words swam before her eyes, her mind still stuck on that thought. Did the other flowers have a meaning? Other, silly coincidences? Setting aside the letter, she went to the bookshelves, searching for the book on flower language that she knew had to be there.

Even as she opened it, she knew Sasuke must have touched it. The pages were pristine, yet she could sense his fingerprints, as though they were guiding her forward.

Daisy: loyal love.

Well, that fit Sasuke perfectly. Did he know that when he sent it?

The red carnation…Sakura laughed as she read the meaning. Alas, for my poor heart; my heart aches. The ever-stoic Uchiha sending this? The man who could barely look her in the eyes sometimes? This was far too cheesy for him.

And still, she read on, unable to help herself.

Gardenia: You’re lovely, secret love.

Chamomile: Patience in adversity.

Goldenrod: Encouragement, good fortune.

Small Sunflower: adoration.

Yellow Tulip: Sunshine in your smile.

Sakura flushed, dropping the book with a heavy thud. Since when? When they married? Before that even? He’d never—

She remembered that day in the park, the wind blowing, the cherry blossoms in his hair, the moment that she had thought they could have a future together.

The smile she had thought she’d imagined, slipping away as quickly as it had come.

6

Sakura was…distracting.

She hadn’t been, at first. Not when she’d been just a portrait on Sasuke’s desk, a decree from his ailing father to regain the family’s lost wealth and honour. Not even when they’d initially met, a few courtship dates that he had requested out of idle curiosity. A quiet girl, as starstruck as the rest; Sasuke had few hopes for his marriage and they’d all settled into ‘someone he could safely ignore’.

And now, it was impossible for him to look anywhere else. Whether he was close enough to feel her breath or so far that they only had the stars in common, Sasuke found himself searching for pink, listening for a soft giggle, waiting for a warm hand to grasp his.

The month spent apart had felt torturously slow.

Yet, now that he had returned home, he wasn’t sure how to approach his wife. Her smile had been soft when they’d danced at the ball, her grip firm. Had her green eyes searched for his too? 

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Sasuke lifted his head from his still blank paperwork and sighed, putting down the pen. “Come in.”

Instead of his aid, Sakura slipped in, a small wicker basket in her hands. “I thought you might be hungry,” she explained, uncharacteristically nervous as she approached his desk.

Sasuke tried not to stare. 

She glanced at his stack of paperwork before setting the basket in front of him. “A break. I know you do not take them but…perhaps this once.”

She turned to leave, and he half stood. “You can join me,” he blurted. It was brash, it was unbearably honest, but Sasuke had never been one to hold back from what he wanted. Especially not after he’d finally realized who that was.

Sakura bit her lip, something she often did when she was thinking. Her cheeks flushed. Shaking her head, she danced back. “No, no—perhaps next time.”

And then she all but fled the room. Sasuke frowned, not sure what to make of that. She didn’t seem to hate him—there had been no hostility in her words, her actions, in the way her face had lit up when she’d entered.

That just left the basket.

Sasuke lifted one end of the hamper, peeking in. A red camilla lay inside, on top of a plate.

You are the fire of my heart.

His mother had insisted he’d memorize both eastern and western flower symbology as a child, no doubt hoping for a smoother courtship than she’d had with his father. Even now, it was drilled in his head. Sasuke stared at the flower, then at the closed door.

Had she—did she—

Her cheeks had been red.

Her movements, nervous.

Oh.

Oh.