#catflorist

Jugo stood. Once Sakura had taken up assignment as their medic, he started bringing her the wounded animals that crossed his path. In thanks for her service, he awarded small gifts—smooth stones, curved twigs. This time he presented her a speckled blue eggshell.

“It’s beautiful!” Sakura said. “Will you keep it for me until I go?”

Jugo bowed his head. A bird landed on his shoulder—Sakura’s most recent patient.

“How’s our favorite medic?” Suigetsu called, smiling wide.

Sakura nursed a secret curiosity for the people Sasuke had hand-picked as his teammates. There was Suigetsu, with his laidback speech and flirtatious smile. Jugo, the wild killer, the gentle giant who comforted injured animals. Karin, with her mess of red hair, whose tired eyes glazed over whenever someone mentioned Sasuke’s name.

Sasuke himself was a simple patient. They had exchanged few words since their reunion. Since his apology.

Jugo’s bird chirped, bringing Sakura back from her thoughts.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Sakura replied, bright and professional. “How are you all feeling?”

“I am well,” Jugo said. “As is my friend.”

“Suigetsu? How’s the sprain treating you?”

“Better every day.” He spun his chair around and straddled the seat backwards. His sprained ankle failed to diminish his level of swagger.

“Karin?” Sakura prompted.

Karin sighed and shifted in her cot. She had never said so, but it was clear she was less than enthusiastic about Sakura’s visits.

Today the red-haired kunoichi wore a cropped shirt, exposing the thick knot of scar tissue on her stomach. Sakura had not seen this injury since she had healed it herself.

Karin followed Sakura’s gaze and looked away.

Sakura had healed thousands of injuries in thousands of circumstances. She would never forget this one. The edges of Sakura’s vision blurred, and she slipped back to that day: a chidori aimed at her skull, electricity standing up the hair on her arms, the air red and thick with the scent of blood. Sasuke with the intent to kill in his eyes.

Sasuke had pierced clean through Karin’s body in his attack on Danzo. As if she were no more than a layer of clothing.

Sakura still had nightmares, but she did not wear Sasuke’s betrayal on her body as scar tissue.

“Everything is fine,” Karin reported, adjusting her glasses. “I don’t need you to look me over.”

Sakura pulled a chair next to Karin’s bedside. She rubbed the sleeve of her white coat. “How’s the old wound?” she asked softly.

Karin’s eyes widened, then she crossed her arms. “It’s fine.”

“If you like…” Sakura began, “I might be able to heal this scar away.”

To Sakura’s surprise, Karin’s lip trembled.

Jugo silenced a squeak from his bird. Even Suigetsu didn’t speak.

Two stubborn tears slipped down Karin’s cheeks. Sakura’s throat grew tight.

“No,” Karin said. “I don’t want to forget.”

Sakura understood Karin a little better then. “You’re strong,” she said.

Karin raised her head, not hiding her tears.

A pang of kinship struck Sakura’s heart. She squeezed Karin’s hand. Karin squeezed back.

“Has he apologized to you?” Sakura asked.

Karin sniffed. “I can tell he’s sorry. In his own way.”

Sakura could not hold back a scoff. “Idiot.”

The two kunoichi exchanged a look. They both knew him.

Karin mumbled, “Idiot.”

Smiles broke out on their faces. Karin wiped her eyes.

“You knew Sasuke. Before,” Suigetsu said. It was not a question.

Sakura thought, And you knew Sasuke. After.

Sasuke was the kind of person who split the landscape of time into before and after, leaving a deep chasm between. On one side, Sakura, before, stared at the members of Taka, after.

She sighed. “Yes. We were teammates.”

The faces in the room grew soft, contemplative. This was the first time they all acknowledged their mutual connection to Sasuke. Sakura felt a door open, a weight lift. They had slung a rope across the chasm.

“Well,” Suigetsu resolved, “you can heal my old scars.” Forgoing all modesty, he lifted his shirt over his head. A long white scar marred his stomach. “I got this a few years back. It messes with my look.”

Karin snapped, “You’re so fucking vain.”

“You’re jealous I’m prettier than you.” Suigetsu balled up his shirt and tossed it into her lap. Karin bristled like a cat.

Sakura could not fight her smile. She gestured for Suigetsu to approach. He sat on the edge of Karin’s cot.

“You’re both very pretty,” Sakura granted, and pooled healing chakra into her palms.

Both Suigetsu and Karin beamed at her.

“I like her,” Suigetsu said to Karin, bobbing his finger towards Sakura’s face.

“She’s out of your league,” Karin snorted.

Suigetsu sputtered, shifting under Sakura’s touch. Then he added, snide, “Sasuke’s really the one who needs a touch-up. He looks like a cat’s scratch-post.”

Karin smirked. “He would never want that.” She glanced at Sakura.

Sakura rolled her eyes. She confirmed, “Too much pride.”

“Can I call you Sakura-chan?” Suigetsu asked.

“Whatever helps you heal faster,” Sakura said.

Jugo chimed in from the corner. “Next time, I will bring you a bird’s nest.”

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Once it was all over, and Sasuke lay bleeding on the ground next to Naruto, he felt himself floating away. The sound of skittering rocks and urgent footsteps reached him through a thick haze. Then a gentle warmth spread throughout his body. The feeling returned to his limbs in a rush. He could not help gasping in pain, everything heavy and hurting.

He concentrated on the warmth. It was soft, precious, like the first glimmer of light on a cold morning.

Sasuke blinked his eyes open and understood why the sensation felt so familiar.

“Leave me,” Sasuke mumbled.

Sakura chewed her lower lip as she worked, eyebrows drawn. The green light of her healing chakra danced across her face. She gave no sign that she had heard.

Sasuke tried to roll away. His body obeyed with the slightest twitch. At this, Sakura glared at him. “Don’t distract me,” she ordered. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Sakura.” Breathing was easier now. “I’m sorry.”

Her mouth curled. “For what?”

Sasuke did not have the right words. There were too many things for which he was sorry. He muttered, “For everything until now.”

“Good,” she said. “I hope you’re sorry.”

Slow tears spilled down Sakura’s cheeks, tracing the same paths over and over.

“You fucking asshole,” she added.

The flow of chakra never wavered. Sakura did not hesitate to save him yet again.

To keep himself from drifting, Sasuke watched the green glow on her face.

Afterwards, Sasuke spent his days in the medic encampment. He relearned the balance of his body, feeling the air where his left arm once existed. He discovered new patches of scar tissue on his skin. At night, he could not sleep.

Sasuke’s visitors bombarded him with questions and urgent topics of discussion.

Naruto limped in on crutches, asking Sasuke, “Aren’t you excited to finally come home?”

Kakashi touched a thoughtful finger to his masked mouth and asked, “Let’s talk about what will happen next. It’s possible you’ll be branded a criminal.”

Tsunade charged into his tent demanding, “Tell me why I should convince the council not to brand you a criminal.”

Sasuke’s answers didn’t satisfy any of them.

Sakura was his other regular visitor. She came each day to check his injuries. Only Sakura didn’t ask anything of him, though Sasuke felt she deserved his answers the most.

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It started off small. Jugo fretted over an injured bird. The next day, the bird perched alert and unharmed on his shoulder.

“The medic healed him for me,” Jugo told Sasuke.

Sasuke hadn’t asked.

“The pink one,” he elaborated. Sasuke somehow already knew.

Then one day, Suigetsu could not stop smiling as he lounged in Sasuke’s tent.

“What are you so happy about?” Sasuke finally asked.

Suigetsu raised an eyebrow. “Sakura-chan is really something.”

Sakura-chan?

Sasuke’s stomach clenched.

“She’s cute,” Suigetsu said. “Tough. Nice smile. Interesting hair. And she healed up my old scar.”

With a flourish, Suigetsu pulled up his shirt to reveal his unmarred abdomen.

“What’s with the long face?” he protested. “She’d probably do the same for you if you asked.”

“I’m not interested,” Sasuke muttered.

Suigetsu’s smile transformed into a shit-eating grin. “You’re as predictable as they said,” he laughed.

Sasuke did not take the bait.

No fan of subtlety, Suigetsu elaborated on his own. “Karin and Sakura, I mean.”

Sasuke should not have been surprised, that with her warm smile and sweet disposition, Sakura had befriended his teammates.

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The next time Sakura appeared at his tent, Sasuke was in a bad mood.

She paused in changing a bandage. “Are you feeling more pain than normal?”

“What?”

She frowned. “You seem upset.”

“I’m not.”

Sakura held his stare.

“You’ve been talking to my teammates,” Sasuke said.

Sakura blinked. “Well, they’re my patients. Just like you.”

Sasuke regretted speaking. “Never mind.”

“What does it matter if I’m talking to them?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

A shadow fell across her face. Sakura checked his injuries without another word, a green thundercloud of healing chakra.

She stood up the instant she finished. “I don’t know what’s bothering you today. But I suggest that instead, you should think about how you still owe Karin an apology.” Her mouth opened again, then shut.

Sasuke stared at his lap, because she was right.

Her jaw set. She stormed away.

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Sasuke broke his bedrest early and apologized to Karin outside of the Taka tent. His throat was dry, and his words were too curt. He could not look her in the eye.

Karin nodded once. In a thick voice, she said, “Thank you.” After a while, she retreated inside. It was far more forgiveness than Sasuke deserved.

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For the first time, Sakura did not leave right away after her next visit. She shrugged off her white coat, smoothed back her hair, and took a seat by Sasuke’s bedside. She peeled and sliced two apples, then arranged the fruit on a plate.

“Antioxidants,” she explained, dropping the plate on Sasuke’s lap. The apple slices jostled on impact.

“Thank you.” His voice was quiet.

Sakura didn’t blink. “You apologized to Karin.”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she said.

Sasuke opened his mouth, his face hot, yet another imperfect apology burning on his lips.

“I already know you’re sorry,” Sakura interrupted. “Just finish your fruit.” She hummed her approval when he lifted a slice to his lips.

Sasuke offered the plate to her. She paused, then picked a slice. They took turns until the plate was empty.

It was the best apple Sasuke had ever eaten.

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Through messages relayed by Sakura, Naruto pestered Sasuke to stop by his tent. After a week of rest, Sasuke gave in one late afternoon and made his way through the lively encampment.

The encampment had grown in purpose beyond a location to house troops. Medics darted in and out of the infirmary tent, the tall landmark at the center of camp. Shinobi from each nation mixed and mingled together. They lined up for meals, called out to each other in greeting, or gathered to swap stories and spar. They transformed rows of tents into neighborhoods.

For its community of shinobi, the encampment served as a space to celebrate, mourn, and heal before returning home. For Sasuke, it was the unexpected reprieve of a clearing in the middle of a dark forest. But it only gave way to more uncharted forest.

Sasuke opened the flap to Naruto’s tent. Naruto dozed open-mouthed atop his futon. Next to him, Sakura lay coiled on her side, her loose hair strewn across a pillow, fingers curled up next to her cheek.

A gust of wind sent the entrance of the tent flapping. Sakura shot up at the noise, already reaching for her white coat.

When she saw Sasuke her shoulders dropped, and her sleepiness returned. “Naruto was supposed to wake me up,” Sakura murmured, rubbing her eyes.

Sasuke could not shake the image of their closeness. He said, “I’ll come back later.”

“You better stay. He’s been annoying me all day about you.”

Caught in her pleading gaze, Sasuke joined Sakura on the ground and crossed his legs. She gently shook Naruto’s shoulder. Naruto sat up and yawned with vigor.

“I love napping,” he announced, stretching, then grinned at Sasuke. “Look who finally showed up!”

“You’re keeping busy,” Sasuke said.

“Sleep is important, teme.”

“You were supposed to wake me up,” Sakura reminded him.

“Ah! Sorry Sakura!” Naruto offered a sheepish grin. “Do you need to run?”

Sakura waved a hand. “Shizune would have found me by now if they needed me.”

The three teammates regarded each other. They had not been alone together in a long time.

“Look at us. We’re old now.” Naruto beamed.

Sasuke scoffed under his breath.

“We aren’t old,” Sakura said. “But we are veterans.”

Her words weren’t bitter. But it was a candid acknowledgement of their reality. They were young, and already fighting so hard.

Sasuke examined the slight shock he felt at her introspection. For a long time, Sasuke had convinced himself that Sakura was nothing more than a weak and silly girl. She never had been, but Sasuke rewrote his memories of her until it became true. He did this to make leaving easier. To make being her enemy easier. It was time to let go of this falsehood.

“Only four arms between the three of us,” Naruto joked.

Sakura didn’t respond. Then she drew a shaky breath.

“You idiots,” she whispered. “You could’ve killed each other.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

Naruto’s face fell. He rubbed her back. “We’re sorry, Sakura-chan. We really are idiots.”

As Sakura cried, Sasuke froze. He did not know how to match the comfort Naruto so easily offered. He reached out, faltered, and withdrew his hand. After all this time, after all he had done, would his words, his touch, mean anything?

Naruto caught Sasuke’s hesitation. With the smallest movement of his chin, he gestured, get over here.

Sasuke touched a thumb to her knuckles. “Thank you, Sakura.”

He didn’t know what he was thanking her for. He only knew that he would never get to the bottom of everything he owed her.

“You saved us. Again,” Naruto said.

Sakura took a deep breath and threatened, “Next time, I’ll kill you both myself.”

She gripped Sasuke’s hand and squeezed.

“I don’t doubt it,” Naruto said with a nervous chuckle. “But it won’t happen again. Eh, Sasuke?”

“Never,” Sasuke promised, dazed by the sudden warmth of her small hand in his. Her hand was illogical to Sasuke. A rough, calloused palm met slender fingers and a graceful wrist. Her hands promised both to break bones and to mend flesh.

Sakura tilted her head back. She closed her eyes and smiled.

A thought entered Sasuke’s mind as he sat next to his old teammates, listening to Naruto coax a laugh out of Sakura.

So this is what I missed.

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Beside him, cursing over every splinter, Suigetsu fashioned the logs into low benches. Jugo and Sakura arranged them around the fire’s perimeter. Karin oversaw their affairs. They ate together that night.

Sakura became a familiar presence among the members of Taka. She joined them by the fire each night, and the five of them took turns cooking dinner.

There was no doubt Sakura had befriended his teammates.

Jugo gifted her treasures from the landscape each time Sakura healed broken wings and bruised paws.

Karin and Sakura discussed the intricacies of healing and chakra control. As Sakura’s duties shrank with the decreasing population of the camp, she began to train Karin in medical ninjutsu. Sasuke knew Karin to approach her own healing abilities with cynicism, but under Sakura’s wing Karin gained a new fervor for healing. They often lost themselves in their conversation unless Suigetsu interrupted them, pining for attention.

Suigetsu took it upon himself to recount stories about the group to Sakura.

“…so we put on the Akatsuki robes—” Suigetsu paused and held up a thoughtful palm. “Great design, by the way, love the clouds—then we took off to fight Killer Bee.”

As for Sasuke, he listened to the group’s conversations and scowled when appropriate.

“To put it briefly, Sasuke got his ass kicked. It was a real sorry sight,” Suigetsu laughed. Karin pursed her lips and nodded.

On cue, Sasuke scowled.

“The jinchuriki was strong,” Jugo confirmed with a solemn face.

Suigetsu winked at Sakura. “I bet you’ve had to save his ass before too, Sakura-chan, being his old teammate and all.”

Sakura smiled and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Don’t be nice to him, Sakura,” Karin advised.

Karin and the rest of Taka had become quite comfortable making jokes at Sasuke’s expense. Sasuke did not complain.

“Well, maybe a few times,” Sakura admitted, casting a glance at Sasuke. He allowed himself to roll his eyes.

The group broke out into laughter.

The solstice came and went.

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Sakura sometimes crossed paths with Sasuke as she visited patients or left the infirmary. He had taken to roaming the encampment on long walks. If she had a moment, she joined him.

On one of these walks, he asked her, “Will you train me?”

His request caught Sakura off-guard. Sasuke’s condition had improved in the past month and he had restarted his training regimen. He had adjusted quickly to one-armed fighting. Around the fire in the evenings, he often asked Sakura to heal scrapes and bruises.

“What makes you interested in medical ninjutsu?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, and Sakura didn’t push him. Sasuke hated explaining himself.

As they walked, Sakura launched into her speech. “The techniques of medical ninjutsu require perfect chakra control. Too little chakra, and you will have no effect. Too much, and you’ll actually worsen the damage on the area you’re trying to heal.” Sakura bent and plucked a leaf from the ground. “It’s a delicate balance. You’ll need enough chakra to suspend the leaf in the air, like this.”

She demonstrated for him. The leaf twirled in lazy circles within her bubble of green chakra.

“Too much, and it will burn,” she warned. “Give it a try.”

Sasuke took the leaf and conjured violet chakra to his palm. The leaf instantly caught aflame.

He frowned, his mouth settling in a petulant curve. “It’s difficult,” he admitted.

When they gathered by the fire, the group asked after Sasuke’s progress.

“How are your leaves?” Suigetsu called out. Sasuke pulled a leaf out from under his cloak.

“How many do you keep in here?” Karin asked.

Sasuke sighed. “Just one, Karin.” He paused. “I burned the rest.” He did not intend to be funny, so the group roared in laughter.

After a few seconds of tossing around in his turbulent chakra, the final leaf disintegrated with a puff of smoke.

The next night, Sakura asked, “Any progress?” and Sasuke demonstrated how to burn a leaf.

A week passed. One night, the group held their breaths as Sasuke maintained perfect chakra control for Sakura’s full count of ten.

When his leaf burst into flame, Karin cried out in dismay, and Suigetsu snapped his fingers. “Damn.”

“Better,” Jugo said.

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Karin and Sakura were preparing supplies for the next day’s work in the infirmary tent.

“You’re learning quickly, Karin,” Sakura said, wrapping up a roll of bandages.

“It’s nice to know I have an option beyond people chewing me.” Karin gestured to the bite marks on her arms.

Sakura laughed. They fell back into their work. After some time, she thought to say, “I haven’t seen Sasuke lately.”

Refilling their store of gauze, Karin smirked. “He’s busy burning leaves.” Then she mentioned, in the same tone of voice, “He used to say your name in his sleep. Back then.”

The bandage Sakura was rolling unraveled in her hands.

“Not that often, but it happened a few times.” Karin adjusted her glasses. “I just thought you should know.”

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Each day Sasuke waited for Sakura’s shift to end, and they strolled the grounds together. Sakura recounted her day, and Sasuke sometimes surprised her with the occasional question. Otherwise, they fell into a comfortable silence.

Sakura had not had the extra time nor energy to consider what might happen now that the war was over. There had been too many wounds to heal, too many lives on the line. Walking through the increasingly quiet and scattered tents, it was hard to forget the temporary nature of this community.

To Sakura’s mystery, Sasuke had not left.

One warm evening, they passed Sakura’s tent in the medic’s quarter of the encampment. Her tent was small and set apart from the others. A piece of driftwood, Jugo’s largest and heaviest gift, guarded the entryway.

Sakura gripped the strap of her medical shoulder bag. “I’m going to drop these supplies off. Do you want to come in?”

Sasuke followed her, past the whirled driftwood, into her cool tent. Sakura dropped the heavy bag and rubbed her shoulder. “How’s practicing going?”

Sasuke grimaced in response. Sakura beckoned for him to take a seat. She sorted through the collection of Jugo’s gifts by her bedside.

“Try now.” She presented him with a gnarled acorn.

“But this is yours.”

“I know. It’s from Jugo, and I really like it,” Sakura said. “But I don’t think you’ll burn it this time.”

Sasuke took the acorn from her and lit his hand in purple chakra. It spun slowly in the air, a small planet above his palm.

After some time passed, Sasuke closed his fingers over the acorn, and he returned it to her. He waited for her verdict.

“Do it again,” Sakura pressed.

Sasuke sorted through her collection and selected a long black feather.

He did it again. Sakura could tell from Sasuke’s relaxed shoulders, the splay of his fingers, that he had mastered the exercise.

Sasuke had struggled with the technique. It had taken him much longer to grasp than Sakura’s average student. Seeing the pride on his face, Sakura resisted the urge to clap or laugh in joy.

 “Well done.” She couldn’t hold back a smile.

Sasuke ran a thumb along the fringed edge of the feather. “You make it look easy.”

“I was trained by the best.”

“That’s not it,” he insisted. “You have a gift.”

Sakura was aware of her own abilities, but Sasuke’s words of praise sent heat prickling to her cheeks.

Before she could think about this too much, Sakura launched into the next lesson. “Now that you’ve got your chakra control, you can practice directing chakra into a wound. The human body naturally wants to heal, and chakra only helps it along.”

Sasuke nodded. His eyes did not leave her as she talked.

She continued, “It’s about intention. The chakra will do what you ask. But it’s also instinct, something you need to feel. Lucky for you, I nicked myself with a kunai earlier.” She turned over her hand, revealing a shallow cut in the flesh between her thumb and forefinger. “Try for yourself.”

Sasuke hesitated, but Sakura didn’t pull her hand away. Frowning, he called chakra into his palm. Without any fanfare, Sasuke healed her cut.

“You did it.” Sakura beamed.

Sasuke exhaled. He had been holding his breath.

 “How did it feel?” she asked.

“It was like what you said. The cut already wanted to heal. I only had to ask. I felt it close,” he emphasized.

Sakura examined her palm. “I’m glad I skipped you ahead in training.”

After a sharp glance from Sasuke, Sakura explained, “After the leaf exercise, the next step is typically to practice on live plants.”

Sasuke’s eyes darkened. “I could have hurt you,” he snapped, and Sakura understood then the reason for his hesitation.

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” Sakura said. “I know you learn better when you’re faced with the real thing—when it matters. I was right.”

“It was a risk,” Sasuke insisted.

“A small risk, for a small cut,” Sakura said. She touched his knee. “I trusted you.”

Sasuke’s arms twitched as if to fold across his chest, but he had forgotten this body language was no longer an option for him. His shoulders stiffened instead. Enough time passed in silence that Sakura wondered if he was angry with her.

Finally, he spoke. “Thank you,” he said. “For your trust.”

“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura said, with no particular reason beyond wanting to feel the shape of his name on her tongue.

His eyes widened.

In this light, while he wore that expression, it hurt Sakura to look at him.

Sakura’s mouth snapped shut, then opened again. She scrambled to add on to what she said.

“You can only heal at a basic level now. So don’t get too confident,” she warned.

Sasuke smirked. “I won’t,” he promised.

When the group heard of Sasuke’s success, Jugo gifted him a black feather to match her own.

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“Spar with me.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

Sasuke asked the next day. Again, Sakura said no.

He asked once again the next night by the fire.

“I just spent two months and a lot of chakra healing you.”

“I’ve regained my strength.”

“Well, I’m too busy.”

Sasuke sulked.

“Naruto will be upset that you didn’t spar him first,” she insisted.

Jugo, Suigetsu, and Karin watched this exchange with amusement.

The truth was that Sakura’s muscles were itching for action and movement after weeks of fulfilling her duties as a medic-nin. Yet she rejected all of Sasuke’s invitations.

An image of Karin’s scar flashed in her mind. Then Sakura remembered Sasuke’s face as he healed her, his eyes soft, his brow furrowed, uneasy at the prospect of hurting her.

 “Fine,” Sakura decided. “Let’s spar.”

There was a time when he had made her afraid. But now that fear was gone. She trusted him.

Sasuke’s eyes glinted in satisfaction.

The encampment had its own makeshift training ground. The thought of using that space did not cross their minds. The next day, Sakura and Sasuke trekked out to the old battlefield.

They stood apart on the cracked, rocky earth. Sasuke closed his eyes. Sakura inhaled deep to settle her nerves.

They listened. They were musicians, lost in their own private music, waiting for their cue to play.

Sakura’s ears rang. All at once, they sprang at each other.

It was no surprise that Sasuke was a formidable sparring partner. With each punch, block, and kick, he tested the limits of Sakura’s abilities. He did not hold back, nor did he underestimate her.

It was also no surprise that Sakura held her own. She could not match his speed, but she met each of Sasuke’s attacks with her earth-shattering strength. When her hits landed, Sasuke struggled to maintain his ground, his feet sliding backwards on the earth.

Sasuke claimed the first match. Then Sakura. Then Sakura for a second time. They faced each other again and again. Sometimes their matches lasted seconds, other times they dragged on in a burning chase.

They were both reluctant to seize victory outright. They watched each other carefully. With one sigh, sharp breath, or look from their partner, the other yielded, and the match ended. It was not about conquest or success. It was an exchange of skills, a mutual agreement.

Sakura’s legs burned, and her arms throbbed, but she deflected Sasuke’s next blow. She dipped below a second punch and swung a leg at his ankles, fluid in the movement of her kata. He jumped, springing off the ground with his hand, and landed in a crouch. A growl of frustration escaped Sasuke. Then he stilled, searching Sakura’s face for a sign to stop.

Sakura pounded the ground, and sent the earth shaking beneath Sasuke’s feet.

Sasuke lunged at her again.

The spar became less like a spar, and more like a dance. They predicted each other’s next steps, their next breaths. Sakura charged her fist with chakra, but Sasuke was already moving to block. When Sasuke moved to slip behind her, Sakura was already whirling to keep him in sight.

Sasuke punched. Sakura caught his fist in both hands. Spinning, she swung his body away with all her strength. He stumbled. Sakura swept his legs out from under him. His back hit the dirt. Panting, Sakura darted forward to end the match.

Fingers snaked around her calf, and Sasuke flipped Sakura to the ground with a movement too fast to register. He climbed on top of her, pinning down her chest with his forearm, in the most forceful display of dominance that day.

Gleaming red eyes bored into hers.

Sakura’s skull ached, and she spat hair out of her mouth, but her heart leapt in triumph.

Sasuke’s heavy body restricted her breathing. She did not move. Nor did Sasuke move, even after blinking away his Sharingan. His eyes were as dark and vast as the nighttime sky. He was close enough that his breath caressed her face. Sakura fought the urge to glance at his lips, which hovered around the edge of her vision.

The weight of his body disappeared. Sakura sat up and caught her breath.

Sasuke extended his hand.

Their fingers laced together. He pulled Sakura to her feet.

“You won that round,” he conceded. “Not me.”

Sakura had only employed taijutsu and chakra-powered punches throughout their spar. Yet her attacks had so threatened Sasuke, that out of pure instinct, he had activated his Sharingan.

She had pushed him to the brink, without a bloodline trait to her name. He had only pinned her down.

During Sasuke’s absence, Sakura had dreamed about what it would be like when they saw each other again. She had imagined how his face might change over the years. She wondered how their skills would match up. She wondered if their friendship would still matter to him. Now she knew the answers to all these questions.

Their hands were still clasped together.

Sakura brushed a streak of dirt from his cheek.

Sasuke disarmed her with a smile.

 “You’ll have to make it up to me,” Sakura said.

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They ate and drank together until laughs bubbled from Sakura’s mouth between every sentence. Suigetsu and Karin sat increasingly closer on their shared bench. Jugo pet Sakura’s hair, and she leaned against his solid weight. The shine increased in Sasuke’s eyes.

“You’re defacing our table,” Sasuke grumbled, after Suigetsu pulled out a kunai and carved an image upon their tabletop.

“But it’s a hawk! It’s us!” Suigetsu cried.   

When Sakura tilted her head, and covered part of the drawing with her thumb, it began to resemble a hawk. “I can see it, Suigetsu,” she reassured him.

Beside her, Sasuke squinted. “I can’t.”

Suigetsu scowled, defensive of his workmanship. Sasuke scowled harder, defensive of his table.

Jugo took the kunai. In his artful hand, he carved all five of their names into the soft wood.

Everyone, even Sasuke, nodded in approval.

Eventually their chatter died. Jugo wandered off into the night to convene with friends of the more nocturnal, winged variety. Suigetsu escorted a smirking Karin to his tent, not bothering to hide the hand at the small of her back.

When they were alone, Sasuke passed the bottle into Sakura’s waiting hand. She leaned back, eyes fixed on the dark sky.

“Do you know the constellations?” Sakura asked.

“I learned some as a child,” he said.

Sakura pointed, tracing a line between a trail of bright stars. “What’s that one?”

“They’re two separate constellations,” he informed her.

“What are they?”

“The swan and the dragon.”

Employing her intoxicated logic, Sakura deduced, “You’re the dragon. I’m the swan.”

“No,” he said. “You’re tougher than a swan.”

Sakura smiled wide. She countered, “You’re meaner than a dragon.”

She knew he was pleased by the puff of air he let out.

“Maybe we should make our own constellation,” she said.

Sasuke raised a curious eyebrow and waited.

Sakura waved a hand. “I’ve had too much to drink. I won’t come up with a good idea.” But she peered up at the sky. A boat? A shuriken?

“It’s a bird,” she decided. “A raven.”

 “It doesn’t look like that at all,” Sasuke scoffed.

“I see what I see.”

“Tch.”

“I told you I wouldn’t do a good job.”

Sasuke grunted his agreement.

Sakura aimed a friendly poke at his cheek. A gust of wind sent the fire flickering. Sakura rubbed her arms in the sudden chill. Sasuke pulled off his cloak and held it out to her.

Nestled in the cloak, still warm from his body, Sakura said, “I was so angry with you.”

“I hurt you,” he said plainly.

“Yes,” she agreed. She took a swig from the bottle, licked her lips, and passed it to Sasuke. He drank.

 “It broke my heart to see you in so much pain,” Sakura said. “I want you to find peace.”

Sasuke responded by passing back the bottle, and Sakura touched her lips to the place his mouth had been.

In the dark, under the stars, words came easily.

 “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” she asked. “When the tents pack up, you’re not coming home to Konoha.”

Sasuke didn’t ask how she knew. “It’s something I’m thinking about. But I haven’t decided.”

Sakura nodded once and wrapped his cloak tighter around herself. She thought back to a different night, a lifetime ago, when they had last discussed Sasuke’s imminent departure.

“If I were to go, Sakura, I would want your blessing.”

Despite Sasuke’s warm cloak, goosebumps rose on Sakura’s flesh.

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The memory of a moonlit night also weighed on Sasuke’s mind.

With no hesitation, Sakura responded to his request.

“If you need to go, then go.” She touched a gentle hand to his shoulder. “Whatever you choose, you have my blessing.”

A buzz filled Sasuke’s ears.

Sasuke didn’t know where he would go when the time came. He didn’t know whether he was ready to return to Konoha, or whether he needed distance and solitude.

More than anything, he did not want his decision to hurt Sakura. He wanted this time to be different. He wanted to be better.

Overcome with a sensation of lightness, he pressed his lips to the center of her forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

 “Always,” Sakura said.

She lay her head on his shoulder. They sat together in the silent night. Eventually her breathing grew even. Sasuke didn’t dare move, except to rest his head against hers.

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Sakura jerked awake as a cold raindrop landed upon her face. Too late, she realized the movement had caused Sasuke to lift his cheek from where it was pressing against her hair.

Thick clouds hid the stars. Thunder clapped, then a torrent of water fell from the sky. The fire hissed in complaint until it sizzled out. Within seconds they were drenched. Sasuke grasped Sakura’s wrist and they ran to his tent.

The air inside was warm, the sound of the rain muted. Sakura slipped off her borrowed cloak, heavy with water. Her teeth chattered.

Sasuke rummaged through his things and offered her a shirt and pants. She turned her back to him and removed her wet clothes and shoes, shivering, too cold to be shy. Sasuke’s clothes were soft, worn, and big on her. They also smelled like him.

When Sakura turned again, she faced Sasuke’s back. Sakura stared at his broad shoulders, the deep indent of his spine between wiry muscles. Scars criss-crossed his damp skin, which glowed under a sheen of rainwater. She had healed his uncovered body countless times and had never seen him as bare and intimate as this.

Sasuke’s stern eyes met hers. Strands of wet and tangled hair clung to his face.

 “I know you’re leaving, Sasuke,” Sakura said. Her throat was dry. “But I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me right now.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, like mist after a rainstorm.

Sasuke crossed the floor and gripped a fistful of Sakura’s shirt. Their lips met in a desperate, hungry kiss. Sakura gasped and threw her arms around his shoulders.

Even as she returned his kisses, Sakura’s head spun, trying to understand how they had reached this point. She was dry and warm, still asleep on Sasuke’s shoulder. She was awake, cold, running in the rain. She was Sasuke’s teammate, then enemy, then friend, and now—

Sasuke tilted her head up to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue between her lips. He tasted like alcohol, and sweetness—a melancholy, half-forgotten taste, like childhood candy. He sucked hard on her bottom lip. Sakura groaned, then pushed him away, panting.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” she breathed.

Sasuke’s fingers were still splayed across her cheek. “You told me to kiss you,” he protested.

“Not like that,” she said.

Eyes flashing, he gripped her chin. “Then how?”

With that movement, Sakura’s mind emptied, and her lips parted.

Sasuke leaned his forehead against hers. He touched gentle kisses to her mouth, again and again.

After he had stolen all her breath, he brushed his thumb over her lip. Even in the dim, she could count his eyelashes. The slightest smirk played on his face. “Better?”

This was worse.

With fingers tangled in his hair, cradling the back of his head, Sakura dragged his lips down to hers. It was no use pretending she wanted anything else. Even if it might hurt later.

> CONTINUE Reading on AO3

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Sasuke sat on the edge of his bed. As she dressed, he reached out to trace a long, thin scrape he had left on her thigh.

Sakura stirred at his touch, freeing her hair from the neck of his shirt. “It doesn’t hurt,” she said.

Sasuke’s palm lit in purple. He waited for Sakura to nod, then he mended the cut.

Like the first time, his chakra jumped to close up her broken skin, more eager to heal Sakura than to execute any ninjutsu.

Sakura touched a red scratch on his chest. “Oh—I left one, too.”

He caught her hand. “Leave it.”

Sasuke did not mind his collection of scars. But they were all acquired from fighting, training, and hurting. This mark was not.

They slept next to each other in Sasuke’s bed, limbs tangled.

The next day, Tsunade sent word. The encampment would disassemble in a week’s time.

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Note: Final chapter is next!

Up next: Sasuke has a choice to make.