dope still alive

They had come rushing and letting out the loudest of yells. Their footsteps could be felt beneath him as he collided with the earth not moments after she had. None of it had mattered because as he laid there she was all he could take in. His vision had come and gone as it pleased but it didn’t lessen the way he begged his hand to reach out for hers even when he knew it couldn’t.

She was hurt—she had been so hurt.

And he could do nothing about it but sit there doing his damnedest to focus his vision upon her.

No amount of heart was going to make his body move. And no amount of heart was going to help her even if he could.

The events which should have led to him returning home is unknown. He just remembers the startle and the disquietude. No weapon within his grasp and the lack of understanding of where he was and how he had gotten there. The familiar paintings upon the wall or that vanity his wife seemed to adore brought forth no reassurance.

All of these things brought no comfort—no thought that he was home. None of it had eased him—it had sent him through the wildest of panics.

She didn’t lay beside him, and he questioned it all.

The way his body tumbled over and the way he had curled within a ball. Gasping out and shutting his eyes deep within the pain. Those footsteps upon such once known floors thudding and making him desperate. They had come clamoring in and even under the gaze of such familiar faces it hadn’t eased him in the slightest. It had sent him spiraling and seeking to escape. His back pressed against the paper doors that lead to the engawa and his fingers desperate to reach underneath the robes to his side.

All of it had been so overwhelming—it suffocated him, and sent him desperate to escape, and then all at once he’s stilled because there’s a hand reaching out and taking a hold of him.

That voice had been stern and those eyes had glowed as if to assert themselves as dominate.

Sasuke-sama. You must calm down.

That heartbeat within his ears and that swallow painfully slow down his throat. Heat upon his skin, and then the waves of pain right behind it. They were upon him just moments later. Wild and without remorse he pushed them off, and then she had grabbed his attention again all at once.

You have to calm down—what would she think seeing you like this.

The world had gone black just as he had spilled his insides upon the floor only to come back to the ceiling he should have known above. Numb. Everything feels numb as his fingers reflexively move and then linger across the sheets to feel upon his face. His vision isn’t normal—neither is that gauze upon his eye.

It’s tired and worn. Heavy and clouded.

The firmest of presses had been against his shoulder and then upon his back as his body rose. The pain had still been there but lighter than the last. The panic is hidden beneath so many questions as his mind feels even hazier than his vision. There’s the longest of sounds ringing in his ears and that slow turn of his head doesn’t make it any easier.

There had so much discomfort.

Lips had moved and he couldn’t hear the sound he knew should have been there. He knows this woman. He’s known her for a long time now. She had given up so much with the war, and yet here she is still going and being where she doesn’t even need to be. He would never ask more from her nor her family.

And if he’s breathing that means he, too, has so much more to see of it.

He had been overwhelmed before this battle, overwhelmed within the battle, and now, more than ever, he is overwhelmed as the expectations rise, and new responsibilities sit upon his doorstep.

They all wait for him outside. They await his next move, and his word of what is to come next. They had won the battle over Otogakure but for so much more than it had been worth. Victory had been what it was called but it had truly been a loss. They had stood their ground and the cost had been so much more then they should have paid.

Fickle. That had been the truth behind this victory.

His uncle lay in wait to be buried. His wife lay within their room without wake.

This emptiness inside him is feeding his soul. He has to stay grounded beside her, but he finds himself locked with the walls of his home unable to find the will. That feeling that had consumed him couldn’t drag him back. If he did there would be no guarantee he could reign supreme over it once again—not with her like she is.

The gauze is wrapped so thick upon her skin. She has color once again but even that’s not enough to comfort him. Those pale rose colored strands aren’t the vibrancy of spring, and those viridian haven’t looked his way in so many days.

Had this victory, in name only, been worth this? Had it been worth the lives of his people, and the lives of his men? Had all of it been worth it?

No. None of this had been worth it.

He had told them before they had marched out—before they had made their way to Otogakure—to remember their worth. He had wanted them to remember why it is that they continued to leave their loved ones, and why it is that they continue to never see the end of the war.

Do you think we are condemned to hell? Looking for hope. I know it can be hard to see.

All of them had been looking for hope. They had looked forward believing their leader would bring them to the days of peace. It had been hard to see them then and now, more than ever, even he questions if they exist. After all that they had been through, after this last battle, could he truly call upon them again? Would they trust a leader who had marched them to their graves after reminding them that they truly were worth more than the dust they had been born from?

Destined to die from the moment of our birth—do not forget everything you are worth.

Sometimes they all need reminders of what they are worth.

Yet, as he sits here staring down at his wife who has yet to awaken he cannot find his own. He cannot see why it is they should follow him after this last battle, and why all of his birthright is meant to lay within his hands. This new will Madara had demanded had been their downfall.

It had weakened their hearts, and weakened their spirits. It had taken more than it had given, and it had all been in selfishness. He knows selfishness because that was the only thing that had kept him alive in this last stand off with death. How could he have dared to put their lives before the underworld for such a thing?

No more dreams are lost in time. No more lives will be lost in stride. The cruelest of irony lays upon those words.

Half lidded eyes and the smallest curve of his lips washes across his face. It’s bitter, and churlish at its best. Slowly shifting his leg out from under him he feels the pain biting upon such movements. The way his chest moves summons forth the urge to cough out. He’s shown enough weakness in his home he cannot show them even more.

Hadn’t he had enough of this?

Kiestuma Senju—he had looked down upon that man in the moment of his victory. He had mocked that man as he reigned supreme, and claimed that such a man was not worthy of his wife. There was no denying how much he had truly felt that in that moment.

Yet, who was he to look down upon someone who had given it all? Worth—the level in which a person or thing deserves to be valued.

Sasuke Uchiha had deemed himself so worthy of her. How could he be worthy when he couldn’t even keep her safe?

That promise had been made with every intent, and yet he had failed her regardless. So much feeling and heart lingered upon such promises. Just like he had put forth so much feeling to make sure his men knew of their own place. All of that heart he had put forward had been for nothing.

—because he wasn’t worth anything at all.

Hadn’t he had enough yet?

“She would be so displeased to see you sitting beside her like this.”

The turn of his head subtle but quick in holding the eyes of the woman upon the door. The inhale she takes makes it clear she’s disappointed but it doesn’t lessen the smallest of smiles upon her face. Why Hikaku’s wife continued to give to this war when it had only brought her harm he couldn’t fathom.

Her steps are soft as she takes her place across from him, “I promised you she would be fine didn’t I?” she’s not looking at him—no she’s looking so adoringly at his wife.

The words are upon the tip of his tongue. He wants to tell her he can’t believe that until she finally opens those wide doe eyes. He can’t trust that she’s not lost to him as well.

In more then one way, and it had been entirely by his own hand.

“I would never lie to you. By the time you woke up she was out of danger.” his eyes follow the way she brushes his wife’s hair from her forehead, “I’m surprised she had lasted as long as she had with such little chakra—but she’s regained color, and it looks like the fevers finally gone. All good signs.”

Still he gives no response as he watches her go about changing the gauze, “We would of liked to give her more attention but with so many of you injured we had to be sparring.” it’s a whisper as she continues replacing the gauze and dabbing the wounds with a cloth.

The shift of his eyes comes at the widow saying such a thing—he had done this to all of them. This is what marked him as being unfit to lead and unworthy of being their heir.

It’s a moment of silence from her as she finishes looking over his wife, and then a momentary lack of movement that has him bringing his eyes back to her and it’s in that moment he feels himself unsure of what she’s doing. Obsidian gaze so firmly upon his lone obsidian. The shift of his jaw comes at such a look. She’s searching him but he doesn’t know for what. The flare of her nose comes with a deep inhale, and it leaves him questioning if she’s found what she was looking for.

“Do you think this is okay? Do you think this is right?” it’s the barest of whispers as if speaking any louder would disturb his wife.

The flutter of his lid comes as the confusion decorates him in pinched brows and the deep set of his mouth.

“You think it’s okay for you to sit here like this? Sitting here wallowing in self pity, and self loathing? You think that is what you should be doing?”

Feeding and shaping. Feeding, and reaping.

It takes a lot to take the beating.

Once it’s done he’ll be deaf from all the internal screaming.

Had he truly had enough yet?

“I don’t know what happened, nor do I care, but how dare you.” her voice is tight within a hiss.

All this emptiness feeding upon his soul.

He knows this all to well because it happened when his mother passed.

“My husband and I put all of our faith in you—I continued to put my faith in you along with my children. How dare you do this to him, to me, and to my children—” his eyes are widening as her eyes begin to glass over, “but more importantly how dare you do this to her.”

Has he had enough?

“How dare you take her love and turn it into something like this.” the twist of her fingers within her kimono makes her frustration all the more real, “How dare you use her to make excuses so you can hide in this room and ignore your responsibilities.”

“She is my wife—what am I to do but stay by her side!?” the words finally find their way off the tip of his tongue hot and sharp, “Would you not stay by Hikaku’s side?”

Wide doe eyes grace him and then the tear falls and with it comes the smallest shake of her head “I would never use my husband like this. I would never lower him down so far.” her words are just as sharp and make it clear she cares little for his title of heir in this moment.

All this emptiness is devouring his soul. Just like when his father had passed.

It’ll never leave if you let it win.

Has he had enough of this?

“Get out!”

“No. I am forever in debt to your wife for being there when I needed someone most—when Hikaku could not comfort me from his grave.” her voice has finally begun to rise with each word she speaks, “I will not allow you to take your love for her and turn it into hate!”

His words are caught deep within the base of his throat. He could choke upon them as this woman rises before him with her hands twisted within fists and her gaze down upon him.

Feeding. Shaping.

“I knew you were better than this! He knew you were better than this! She knows you’re better than this! She would never allow you to sit in here like this. It would crush her! She would blame herself for you being like this! She would—she would—she would absolutely hate to see you in such a state!” her form shakes as she lets her voice out louder as if he is too far away to hear her, “She would do everything possible to try and take your pain onto herself just so you wouldn’t sit in here with such loathing!”

Reaping. Emptiness.

Just like when his brother had betrayed him and took up sides with the Senju.

“Wake up! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop wasting how much we cherish you like this!”

Had he? He had. He has. He truly has had enough of this.

“I came here to check on her one last time, and make sure for myself that she would be alright. I hoped she would be awake by now—but she isn’t and instead I get to see you like this. Be a man and a proper husband to her.” the tightening of her voice has returned and makes it all the more clear she’s barely containing her lividity.

He feels as if he’s been hit. It’s as if she’s struck him down, and thrown him deep within the river just beyond the village, and all that comes with it is panic, fear, trepidation, and consternation. He’s quick to move and get to his feet even as his body cries out with waves of pain at moving so fast, “What do you mean one last time?” his mouth is going dry—what has he done?

“We are leaving. I had hoped to tell her myself. I am moving in with my mother so I can have help with the children. Sakura-sama has been so good to me—I hate to leave her, and you. I hate to leave this village. This is home, but I need to protect my children first and foremost. I will not allow them to become warriors in their father’s place.”

“I would never ask that from you.” his voice shakes weak and desperate.

“The future is forever unclear. You say this now—but what of their own free will? If I take them from here they will not be surrounded by this—this need to take up arms.” she’s turning and then there’s a pause at the door as he tries to make his way to stop her, “Please tell her I will write to her. Please tell her thank you from the bottom of my heart—and thank you for doing all you can and will continue to do for my family even as I selfishly run. I lost Hikaku, but I cannot lose them too.” the tightening of her fingers upon the wood make it clear she cannot look at him as she says these things.

Just as he thinks she will leave his home and the will to stop her has left she turns to him with that smile she had come with upon her face, “My husband cherished you so much, and I, just as he did do as well. Please take care of her, Sasuke-sama.”

Shifting his weight does nothing to ease the waves of pain that come upon his body with so much movement, “I—I will. Please write her—and know you will forever be welcome home.”

His wife had created a home for this woman. This widow had come not just out of obligation for her clan but out of the love she had for his wife. She had come here knowing she was leaving, and that she needed to say goodbye. He cannot stop her with such determination, and such honesty.

She doesn’t do this for any other reason than out of the love she has for her children.

The Uchiha love deeply, and he expects nothing less.

Turning his head he can’t help but take in the ethereal woman that is his wife. Even with such acts occurring around her she sleeps so deeply. Even hurt, and held together with gauze she is still the spring nymph he has locked within his mind. It makes him all the more uneasy—he’ll have to leave her to rest. He needs to bury his uncle without her, and he needs to take control of his clan here and now.

Sometimes he needed a reminder of what he was worth.

Sakura Uchiha is the life, and the love of his people. Taking her love—no, not hers this isn’t just a one-sided feeling—to take his love for her and turn it into such loathing would truly crush her.

He had built her up as such and to lower her would be shameful. He would no longer shame her in such an unsightly way. He needed to go forth and give his people their right to mourn. He needed to ease their hearts filled with unease, and uncertainty.

Footsteps slow he makes his way back to her side. His skin brushes against her hand. It lays so still and without movement upon the sheets as the other lay tucked and in a sling matching his own. The curl of his fingers upon two of her own is firm. It’s a gentle squeeze as his thumb brushes against her bruised knuckles.

The inhale is deep as he takes this moment before he’ll leave her side. He may be battered and bruised. He may be injured and still in need of healing—but the world stopped for no man.

Yes. He had, had enough. So rise up from the ground because no more dreams will be lost in time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Slowly the ceiling comes into view and there’s a dryness to her throat. Her muscles ache and she can’t be certain if it’s from injury or from lack of use. Turning her head she can’t help but hope he’s laying beside her—and yet he isn’t.

The nuzzle of her pillow makes her fingers twitch before she starts to push herself up. Their home is quiet and she can’t help but take in the sound of the birds singing their praises of the sun. Clearing her throat her lungs feel full making her muscles twitch at such a harsh movement.

Her mind feels as though its in the clouds and as she forces herself upon her feet shaky and reaching for the engawa only floods her with a sense of calm. There’s no explanation for such a thing when she couldn’t be of help to her husband—and yet there’s this feeling within her chest that there’s no need to worry.

Her fingers struggle for only a moment to slide the door open, and just like as her husband does she seeks to remain calm within the presence of his garden. This place is something he found so much silent joy within and she too longs now to look upon it.

Easing herself down is rough and lopsided. It’s not elegant in the slightest but she manages and she sits with her legs dangling over the edge. She’s still feels fatigue, but she has far more chakra than she had that day—how many had passed as she slept away?

That summer sun is warm and so inviting. It has her rolling her head back and taking all of its rays in. Her skin feels dirty but that breeze keeps that summer heat from being too overwhelming. She’ll need to get back on her feet soon. There’s no doubt her husband is already doing whatever he can for his clan.

There’s only the smallest bit of hope he’s not back upon the battlefield so soon.

The swing of her legs makes it clear how tight her muscles are. The discomfort isn’t enough to stop that slow sway, though. A hum raspy and rough upon her throat falls. She can’t remember her final moments upon the battlefield clearly but there is one thing she can remember.

That world was a place her husband had ventured too many times before and during their marriage, and she had but just a taste. Those sleepless nights he had are all the more clear. This weight upon her shoulders. This is what weighed her husband down without remorse—this was but just a piece of what had made him who he was today.

At some point or another she had allowed herself to become naive. She had taken the occupation to be a medical shinobi but she had been but a mockery. Avoiding the front lines had been something she had been so good about. She had stayed within neutral villages and hospitals never truly understanding the struggle of the shinobi she had treated.

All of her morals had been childish. She now could say she understood their side. She had looked down upon them all at some point for taking lives, but how many times had she not done the same?

They hadn’t been her first kill. They hadn’t been her second. They certainly hadn’t been her third.

That realization is all too heartbreaking.

Never had she spared a single thought for those she had attacked as she made her way through Kusagakure to get to her father. Not once had she taken into consideration the lives she was altering when she had told her husband how to take Tanigakure. Not a single tear had been shed as she fought her way to get to her husband.

No—it was the minute she had beaten those men down out of fear that it had truly dawned on her that she was no better. She had at some point placed herself upon a pedestal as if what she did was so much better—as if she was a better human being.

She was no different from them.

They hadn’t killed all that had opposed them because they had wanted to. They had done it because it was their lives on the line.

She had been far worse—she had helped to conquer and she had helped to bring civilians to their knees.

She had built up excuses for herself.

There’s a bitter laugh that has her pressing her hand against her chest at the soreness within her lungs at such a reaction.

No—she needed to be more honest. She hadn’t even done that.

She had just ignored it, pretended it wasn’t a thing, and never took a moment to consider anyone but herself.

She had been self-centered.

At some point she had thought she understood her husband. Understanding hatred had only made her realize how much he had been hurt. She had understood so little. Only a piece of him had been considered and yet she had asked for him to love her. She still has so much to learn and this was but another piece of him she had finally understood.

Her husband and all of those around her carried such heavy burdens upon their shoulders, and she had subconsciously placed all of her own upon their shoulders as well.

Facing that burden, and accepting it.

Taking that weight upon her own shoulders—and sharing the burden along with her husband.

That is what those families deserved. She was not saintly. She was not pure by any means. She had decorated herself as such and yet she had been just a dirty as the rest of them. At no point should she have ever judged them—at no point should she have allowed herself to dance with naivety.

The press of her fingers upon her arm is warm, and the lower of her head comes to follow it.

How many people had come to hate her for taking their loved ones? Their friend? Their child?

She won’t let herself cry—that would be cruel to them. She won’t beg them for forgiveness. At some point she’ll have to stand before King Yan and await his judgment upon her for such cruelty.

Healing, and saving others isn’t going to help her escape her day before him. She had gone far beyond protecting herself in the face of being tortured. Her own friends, and family wouldn’t dare judge her for such things, and that’s why she has to be the one responsible for judging herself.

Her husband would simply seek to give her comfort—protect her from herself after doing such a thing.

He would never judge her. He would never hold her accountable. Holding herself accountable. Recognizing the people she had hurt.

It won’t end with those men. There will be others, and she’ll have to carry that burden within the future.

She is the one who has to do those things.

Her fingers move with the slowest of movements pulling upon the sleeping robe and exposing her arm. It’s with caution she removes the sling. She won’t heal the wound completely. She’ll leave the ache, and she’ll leave it with the dull pain. Its not enough to repent but she wants to make sure she remembers this clearly. Remembers that she too is no better than them.

That warmth that comes from the wood of the engawa sends the oddest of sensations upon her finger tips. She can’t help but take hold of her bicep as she takes in that fresh scent within the small breeze.

Those men had been so cruel playing with her—but at some point they too had to of been decent people.

They too had loved ones who would no longer be able to hold them.

The curve of her mouth is small and hinted upon the corners. Her husband had probably felt that moment so many times. Felt like he was going to die and in panic gone too far. He, too, at some point had lost himself in the fear.

That is how he’s survived up until now, and she wouldn’t dare judge him for such a thing again.

She wouldn’t judge the Senju, and she wouldn’t judge the Uchiha. She wouldn’t judge Kakashi, and she wouldn’t judge Naruto. They all deserved nothing but understanding.

Her own cousin fought on the front lines—she should have learned this lesson forever ago.

“S-Sakura-sama!”

The call of her name has her turning and the drop of her mouth in curiosity. How long had she been out to raise such concern? Viridan barely have time to trail the wood or the paper doors. They immediately make their way to those obsidian she loves so much.

The lift of her cheeks and that spread of her mouth is no longer subtle upon the corners of her mouth. He’s hesitating, and there’s something that crosses his face that she wishes she could understand. She’s sure that’s another piece she’ll come to learn of one day. They have so much to discuss, but there’s something far more important she has to do right in this moment.

“Welcome home.” her voice is soft as her shoulders roll up, “Sasuke-kun.”

Her desire to welcome him home had been what had pushed her to make her way to him. It had pushed her to defend herself and kill those men. It had given her the drive she had needed.

She had meant it when she told him she would welcome him home, and she will do it every chance that comes her way. She will make sure he knows that there is a home for him to go to when the weight upon his shoulders is too much. She’s here to help hold that burden with him, and she does so gladly.

He doesn’t have to carry it by himself any longer.

She had said she would take all of his pain if she could—and this is just the start of it. She’ll take his burden and she’ll share his pain so he doesn’t have to bare it all alone ever again.

He’s so slow in making his way to her. He needs to be healed. That gauze upon his eye, and that sling that his hand rests in. She couldn’t do it before but she’ll do her best to do it now. She doesn’t have all of her chakra back but to give to him is what she does best.

“Leave.” his voice sounds so weak compared to his usual strong tone and immediately she thinks he’s speaking to her.

Heavy and large the oxygen sits in her throat. The way in which her heartaches at such words has that calm washed from her instantly. This was punishment for the cruelty she had caused him in that world she had naively walked upon. This was something she deserved for her lack of understanding.

The maids rushing from their sides does little to ease her belief that command is for her as they just stare at one another. Viridian to obsidian. Eyes holding and staying upon the other without the ability to remove themselves from the other. This man before her had seen the acts of war. This man had been molded and reshaped to adapt to the chaos she had turned a blind eye to. Hardened and sculpted by the flames that spread around him.

That shift of his weight cannot be missed, and neither can the way his throat moves as he swallows as if he is uncomfortable. This discomfort is her fault. To explain herself and to make her feelings clear is all she can do, but that does not mean he has to listen to her.

“You are free to leave. You are a prisoner of war no longer. There will be no act against you for this.” the way in which his eyes have left her as he speaks makes him look so weak and exhausted.

The panic is overflowing. It’s overflowing and it’s covering all it can touch like that of a bath left to fill for too long. He is releasing her. He is allowing her to leave his side with no punishment, and that alone is a punishment in itself. He is casting her aside because of what she has done, and once again there is no one to blame but herself. This heavyheartness is entirely done by her own actions, thoughts, and hands.

Helping the enemy is treason. Healing the other side had hurt this family she had gained through marriage.

“But understand this is the only time I will grant this. This is the only time I will allow it.” there’s a firmness to the way he says these words and the smallest of shakes to his shoulders.

That timber of his lip makes her open her mouth to respond—to desire to tell him this is not what she wants—but as he speaks again she cannot find the strength to speak such words, “Also understand—I will not give up.”

It’s those eyes finally back upon her own that makes her ache. It’s the way he looks like he has lost everything and there is nothing left for him to protect. He says all these things, and he grants her such will of her own at what price? What price is he paying to say such things?

Had they truly been so far apart that he thinks in such ways? Had she led him to this conclusion?

Had that divide between them never been crossed? It had been such a great divide.

The burn within her mouth is only second to that of her eyes. This man she had learned to love was slipping through her fingers. He was not of two sides. He was not a coin. He was so much more complex than that, and yet he is but a man.

Just an ordinary man like any other. Not a myth or a legend.

This eye contact they hold she cannot maintain it. The flutter of lashes is her enemy as the drops fall and she wishes she could hide. He says he will not give up—but what does that mean?

What does this man mean when he says he will not give up? Does he mean for his clan? Does he mean for victory? He didn’t need to tell her such things. Sasuke Uchiha is a man of his word. He speaks when he wants to be heard, and when he wants his thoughts to be made clear. The smallest of hope wishes to romanticize such a conviction—to believe it’s not about those things he holds onto with such pride, but instead about them.

“And if I chose to stay?” that break within her voice is harmful and shows so much of her own insecurities and faults.

It shows to much of herself. It shows the way this hurts and it shows how weak she truly is against the tide of life. A strong and supportive wife she had wished to become, and all those efforts were for nothing. All those efforts were but wasted attempts to hide that she was not fit for him, and he not for her. She recognizes these things but that’s not stopping the build up of tears or the way she tightens her hold upon her arm, “If—if I don’t want to lose my family?”

My husband—my husband is a good man.

“Your family will not be harmed. I told you there will be no acts against you.” that exhaustion is back within his tone and she’s sure if she looked at him he would be shaking his head.

She can’t look at him, though, because if she does it’ll hurt more. It’ll break that small fragment of hope. He says this as if he isn’t her family. He speaks as though she only talks of her mother, and those locked away in Konoha. Had she truly allowed herself to believe they were family when he did not?

That is the deepest of wounds he could inflict, and he had done so. It’s deeper than his sword could have touched. Would him thrusting it within her being back on the battlefield have been better? That shake of her head comes and that crumbling before him is inescapable, “Were we never family? Was it so wrong of me to believe otherwise?”

She thinks she’s heard her name but she can’t even begin to process it as she sits here curling within herself for allowing herself to of been so naive—for hoping so much.

“I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. I don’t want to lose my home. I don’t want—” that selfishness from deep within her core just continues to pour out, and there’s no sense within her to hold her tongue and take this is stride.

She knew this was a possibility, and she knows she has no right to hurt in this way. She had committed treason on the battlefield and he was being so much kinder than he should have. Before this battle they may have been family and she’ll hold onto such disillusion because that is all she’ll have left. She wants to believe that more than anything.

He’s kind. He tries to do everything for our clan. Our family.

He could use her to make a public example. He could kill her here and now. He could go after her mother, and he could go after the rest of her family. He could do so many things right now and he is allowing her to leave without any of those consequences.

There was no hearing his footsteps and no way for her to prepare for him to wrap his arm around her as he presses her against him. It sends that panic rippling through her that he intends to remove her from his home here and now as she acts so shamefully before him. She won’t stop him. She cannot stop him. She deserves all of this.

It’s the softest of whispers within her ear. The gentlest of soothing sounds meant to comfort her as he presses his face against her own. Her heart, and her mind cannot make sense of it but it doesn’t lessen the ease it provides for her. Once again he’s showing that kindness the world neglects to accept and believe exists. He should be disgusted with her for her treason, and yet he is doing his best to comfort her.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” that question is filled with an ache she cannot understand.

She can barely understand the question, “I have no right to ask for such things—but what can I do when what I want is here?”

“I thought you would leave.” that press of his forehead to her shoulder comes with such admission and it stills her being and makes her cries lock within her throat.

He thought that she would leave his side. He thought if he gave her the option—gave her a choice—she would choose to leave his side. This man was not punishing her as he should have been. He was allowing her to freely choose where she wished to be, “Why would you think such a thing?”

“Why would you not leave?” he says something so simple, and yet there’s so much hidden behind that question.

Here in her act of treason he is acting as if he has wronged her. He is acting as if what had transpired had not been because she hadn’t been clear with her intent. He’s placed all the blame of what had happened upon his own shoulders instead of where it rightfully belongs.

“I have not been a prisoner of war in such a long time. You are my husband, and I am your wife, Sasuke-kun.” it’s the barest of whispers but it holds such fragility, and fear that what she thinks he’s admitting to may not be what it seems.

This could be just one of the many misunderstandings they’ve had. Just another moment in which they’re divided and clouded with uncertainty in what the other is saying, “I wouldn’t have given up.” Those five words have her turning to him to take him just as much into her as he has brought her to him, “I would done whatever it took to regain your hand—to make you my wife.”

It’s his face in hers hands, and god does it hurt to see him in such a state. Seeing him so battered and bruised. So broken, and worn. It had been about them, and not about this clan. It had been about trying to maintain their marriage even if she left his side. He had agonized over this as she slept and recovered. He had lived in such a world of unknown over what would transpire between them. Yet, here she sat wallowing in her insecurities and he had been awaiting for her to come to while bathing in his own.

Running her fingers within his hair is such a habitual action as the wind comes softly across their skin. He had been so scared of losing her. He had feared her leaving his side even after she had told him she loved him with all of her heart he thought she could disappear at a moments notice. All of those insecurities were just a reminder of what he has lost already. He feels such fear and he believes in such possibilities because they have been done before.

She will uproot them every time they bloom. This fear of loss just shows how much he feels. When he had first come within the room to find her on the engawa she had welcomed him home, and she will welcome him home once again, “Welcome home, Sasuke-kun.”