#sakefics

Blinking hard, she tried to check if she was just dreaming.

But no dream could ever hope to match this.

“You're awake,” said Sasuke, voice thick with sleep. Her heart broke into frantic pace, overtaken by a restlessness she could not control.

A million questions coursed through her mind. She could not bring herself to voice even one of them, entirely lost in inarticulate surrender. Her body, now weightless, only resisted floating away due to the presence of his arm.

His arm, surrounding her hip; his lips, moving but inches from her neck. She could stay like this forever, and she would be content.

Sakura felt the vertigo spiralling from within. She wanted nothing more but to lose herself in it, to turn to him and tangle her limbs in his, to kiss him until she ran out of breath and succumbed to this dreadful, all consuming desire.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” He asked. The closeness of his voice still felt surreal, dreamlike.

Sakura isn't sure.

         «I want to sleep naked in your bed.»

 What if… ?

She closed her eyes, brought her hands to her chest, and she lied.

“No, I… I don't remember.”

“Ah. I see.”

He relieved his hold on her. She wished she had the courage to pull him back.

The spell was broken. Sakura trembled when he parted from her, but was still too numb to beg his return.

“How did I … end up here?” Here, in your bed; here, with you holding me as you did only seconds ago.

Sasuke sighed. Carefully, Sakura turned to look at him. There was something in his eyes she couldn't begin to understand.

“You had too much to drink,” he said, sitting up. “And I should have known better.”

“You drank, too.”

He chuckled, unamused. “Well, I'm glad I stopped when I did. Otherwise, we…” Sasuke paused, apparently troubled by his own thoughts. He seemed to be considering his next words carefully. “Could have done something we might regret.”

Standing to full height, he stretched the sleep away before disappearing into the bathroom. The door closed, and Sakura let out a long, winded breath.

She lay on the small mattress, still wrapped in those sheets that smelled like him, and played in her mind the bits of memories that had surfaced. She felt ashamed, foolish and utterly distraught that the words that resounded in her mind could have left her lips.

However, Sasuke's expression left her wondering – did he not regret sleeping with her?

-

-

The rest of the day carried on almost wordlessly. Sasuke wasn't much of a talker as per norm, although he spoke even less than usual. As for Sakura, well, the more she listened to the voice in her head – her own voice – the less she felt like talking.

To her own mortification, she was unable to pretend that she had not said the things she'd said. That she wanted to touch him. That she wanted him to touch her. That she wanted to lie naked with him, to kiss him endlessly, to make love.

It was nearly impossible to make eye contact, much less love, even when they did speak.

Their travels carried them far away from the last village, until they reached a tall, lumbering forest with dark trees and few flowers. She had always pitied such places,  forests with little to no blossoms to fill the senses.

It smelled of mud and rain, of rotting leaves and stale puddles. The sky retreated into the horizon and clouds gathered, dark and heavy, looming overhead. Before long, the timid drizzle had grown into a downpour and they were soaked to the bone.

“Fucking hate this weather,” Sasuke spat, clearly irritated. An unusual outburst, indication of a sour mood.

Just like me, then, Sakura mused, kicking at the small twigs and branches that littered the sopping ground.

They took shelter under a modest cave. It was tall enough that Sasuke didn't need to slouch, and long enough they could light a fire inside without worrying about it becoming a danger.

With one of her favorite devices – a metal box you could hook to the wall, containing a wire that stretched several feet in length – Sakura set out their clothes to dry. Fat drops of water dripped from their capes to the ground, even after she'd wrenched them.

With their backs turned, each of them rummaged through their travel bags in search of something dry to wear.

“Everything is soaking wet,” she grumbled, resentful. “At least the food was spared.”

“Don’t you have a plastic bag?” His voice floated behind her.

“Damn thing has a hole in it, that’s why… ugh!” Frustrated, she tossed the piece of plastic aside and tried to select something she could wear. Pretty much everything was somewhere between damp and drenched.

“Here,” she heard him. Something soft and dry landed on her shoulder. Sakura took the grey shirt in her hand, grateful. After the initial relief over having dry clothes to slip into, she found her cheeks warming up to his scent.

“You don’t mind if I wear it?”

“Of course I don’t. All I have is one pair of clean pants, though. You can – ”

“That’s fine. This’ll do. Thank you.” Wrestling off her qipao and bra as quickly as possible, Sakura shuddered as soft cotton came in contact with icy skin. Cold fingers lacking deftness, it took her a while to get all the buttons done up.

“I was gonna say we should have done laundry back in the village, but…” she shimmied out of her shorts and boots and collected her wet clothes. “Wouldn’t have done me much good now, to be honest.”

“We’ll do laundry at the next one. We should be there tomorrow night if we wake early.”

“Right.”

“We got lucky,” he said. “There’s some usable pieces of wood back here. I can start a fire, but it won’t last long.”

“Give me your clothes. I’ll hang them up while you do your thing.”

Nodding, Sasuke swiftly handed her the damp attire. He didn’t even look at her. It was only when she had her back to him, and the flare of orange flames lit up the dark cave walls, that she remembered how much better his eyesight was than hers, especially in the dark – and how, even if oversized on her, his grey shirt was no replacement for a pair of pants.

Again: the heat, and the cheeks, and the awfully inconvenient thudding of her discourteous heart.

They shared their food and mostly ate in silence. Luckily, Sasuke’s quilt had also avoided most of the rain, and they had somewhere nice to sit on rather than the cool earth.

However, the problem was precisely that she sat so close to him.

(she never, ever in her life would have imagined sitting next to Sasuke-kun could be labelled a problem)

Embarrassed, Sakura had sat on her knees. Her legs were getting cold and sore. She cursed the decision not to wear the damn underwear straight away. It’d be better to brave a cold bottom than to risk – her mind did a little somersault at the thought – flashing Sasuke.

After last night, this was the last thing she wanted to happen.

         « I want you… to kiss me until I can’t breathe… I want, I want… let’s be happy… I love you.»

 Shuddering, she willed the recollection away, along with the still-too-vivid impression of his warmth surrounding her. At least, wearing his shirt, she could still smell him.

The fire began to dwindle, as it didn’t have much more to burn on. Sakura kept watching the rain outside, trying to ignore the stinging emptiness in her chest. Anything to keep her eyes from wandering over to him, sitting so closely, so effortlessly handsome.

It was he who broke the silence.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Hm?” Distracted, she winced at the sound of his voice, velvety and warm.

“Your hangover.”

“Ah. Y-yeah, I’m… better.” Her voice felt small and weak, so she cleared her throat. “I’m better. Wouldn’t be much of a medic-nin if I couldn’t cure my own hangover, right?” She let out a nervous little chuckle, resisting the urge to peer at him.

“Right.” Sakura could have sworn she’d heard him sigh. Maybe it was just the wind blowing through, or leaves rustling outside.

Or did he?

“Sakura.” The way he called her name was enough to make her feel light-headed. Whatever he was going to say, he had a serious tone to it. “You said you don’t remember last night. If that’s the case, I should tell you. We should… talk about it. I think I owe you an explanation.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened and, finally, she looked at him. “Oh, oh – wait.”

His stare might as well burn through cloth and flesh alike. Sakura braved through a hurricane of butterflies trapped inside her chest, her stomach, and found out she was unable to hold his gaze once again.

Swalling the knot in her throat, she hesitated. “Well… it’s a little fuzzy, I’ll admit, although I… I guess I wasn’t entirely honest this morning. I mean, well, umm. It’s still in bits and pieces, but –”

“You remember.” Calm, he sounded calm. As always. Sasuke-kun always looked calm, always looked composed. It made her feel very gauche in contrast, but why should she equate them in the first place? She was Sakura, and he was Sasuke; she was light and pink and bouncy laughter, he was dark and black and perfect posture, even when he slouched. Nobody could pull that off like he did.

(he was not as calm as he seemed)

All Sakura could do was nod. Her legs were getting number and colder, no matter how much she pulled at the ends of his shirt.

“I see.”

“…you’re mad.”

“Did you mean it?”

This time she looked up, blinking. There was something soft and unexpected in his expression, something flighty and hopeful that caught her in a daze. It wasn’t always easy to read him, as he guarded his expressions carefully, but lately he seemed to be more open, more earnest.

More open to her, at least.

Or maybe she had just gotten better at it, as time went by.

“What you said last night,” as she didn’t respond Sasuke insisted, assertive, eyebrows pulled together, “about you. About us. Did you mean it?”

Cornered, she at least owed him honesty. “Yes.”

(that such a small word could weigh this much)

A sigh – of relief ? – escaped those faultless, regal lips.

“Then, no, I’m not mad.”

Sakura felt like she should say something, but nothing occurred outside of an apology.

“Don’t be sorry,” he replied. “I’m the one who took advantage.”

Took… advantage? Surely, he must be joking.

Sakura considered the word. Advantage. A benefit, a favourite position or circumstance. She considered what it meant; to him, to her.

Sucking in her breath, it was now or never. She owed him honesty about her feelings; she owed it to herself. Whether he wanted her or not, time spent with him was precious to her, and if he cared for nothing more than companionship – it would suffice.

It would have to suffice.

“Sasuke-kun, just being able to travel with you brings me so much happiness. Everything that we share, I’m glad for it. I’m thankful for every moment, I truly am.” She hugged herself, reminiscing. “Today, I woke up next to you. Your arm was on me, and you were so warm.”

She let out a sigh, unable to keep a small, timid smile from burgeoning. Hangover or not, that was the best morning she’d ever had.

“I felt… like I was someone dear to you.”

“You are. I –” He paused, diffident. Those words alone were warming, like sunshine in her veins.

“Listen, if what you said last night… if that’s how you feel, then…” It wasn’t like him to speak in fragments. Sasuke had always been a decided man, even as a boy, of few words that meant a lot. He always knew what to say, like he’d memorized a script and had his lines ready. He seldom vacillated. He was self-assured so when he spoke, he spoke with certainty. “Then it’s the same for me. Okay? I want something more, too.”

The world had stopped spinning, surely. Sakura forgot how to breathe.

“You said all those things. You said you wanted to make me happy.” Sasuke turned to her, yet his eyes kept getting lost on the way to meet hers. “So if there’s more of this, of any of this –” his warm, large hand took one of hers, small and light and tremulous, and the rush of heat that was born upon contact made every hair on her body stand on edge. “I just want to make sure it’s mutual. That I have your consent.”

Consent to what?

It was a little too much to take in at once. Sakura needed a moment, or maybe ten.

He leaned forward.

Oh.

Moments be damned. There wasn’t a minute to spare, not a breath to waste.

“It is. I mean, you do. That is, I –“

The rest of her words disappeared when his thumb stroked her cheek. Sakura leaned against his touch; her face fit perfectly into his palm.

This kiss felt new, she thought. It ran hotter from his lips through hers, took longer than any other had before. He broke apart to catch his breath, only to meet again, each kiss deeper, more tender and wild.

For the first time, his tongue ran across her lip. The tremor he evoked in her made the world burst into colour, illuminating even that dark, forgotten place with a shine of its own.

He was about to pull away, to drag a curtain over the light he shone, but she held on to his shoulders. Now that she had him – now that he allowed her to have him, only if for a heartbeat – she didn’t want to let go just yet.

“Please,” she beckoned. “Stay.”

Sasuke seemed to contemplate her request in quiet discomposure. He squinted, struggling against himself – holding back, when all she wanted was for him to give in – and he made her wait no longer.

The closer Sasuke drew to her, the harder it was for her to hold her legs in position. Sakura didn’t feel cold anymore, she didn’t feel the numbness from before. She felt a weakness but not in strength, worn out by a deluge of heat.

There was no telling who pushed or who pulled.

But by the time Sakura lay on her back and stretched her legs, he was already kissing her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. The weight of his body pressed down on her, and she could only gasp to his fervour.

Never could she have imagined he’d have this much to give; never did it cross her mind that Sasuke had this much passion, this much tenderness – this much longing in him. His movements were, like hers, tentative and hesitant. But what he lacked in experienced he made up for in intent.

Something hard pushed against her thigh just as she bit his lower lip. Sasuke broke his silence with a low, rumbling groan, and the sound was such novelty to her that the clamour in her chest grew tenfold, and the heat… by the Gods, the heat, it threatened to consume her from within and she had to do something, anything, whatever it took to dull the ache.

For a moment he seemed to be searching her features. Sakura ran her hand through his hair, damp and thick, and nodded.

Her legs now parted – unthinking, out of instinct, out of need – there was barely any time for cool air to bring reprieve. Sakura squealed when she felt Sasuke readjust himself to her position; that hard, heavy pressure now settled firmly against her bare, tender core.

She felt insanely high, overtaken with a rush that made her vision blur for an instant. The thrill of these new sensations was almost too much to bear, the intensity of Sasuke’s aphrodisia shaking her to the very bone. Sakura moaned, she mewled, frantically searched for air until her hips bucked against him, against the hardness of his want.

“I’m –” suddenly, Sasuke abandoned her swollen lips and pulled himself back.

Quick to react, she held him in place with a leg on either side. “Don’t go…!” Then, as if coming to her senses, she swiftly pulled her knees back.

Don’t go…

Some odd, un-Sasuke like sound escaped his throat, and at that moment Sakura remembered she’d left her underwear hanging on the wire.

It was a tangled mess, between bumping knees and hands fretting about with clothes obviously not long enough for modesty, and even he was fumbling with his words when only a moment ago he was so, so decided.

What had changed?

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed with unsteady breath, looking torn.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“With this,” he rolled his shoulders, his palm settling on the back of his neck. Sakura noted the rise in his pants and her breath hitched again. “I mean… how do… should we stop? Is this even the right place?”

“Wha… do you want to stop?” It was hurt, more than anything, that weighed on her voice now. To her, it didn’t matter where she was. She was with him, and for all she cared no palace in the world could hope to be as comfortable as his embrace.

“Do you?”

Sakura shook her head. “No.”

And then, fingers trembling, she undid the buttons of the shirt she wore and she took his hand in hers, bringing it to her chest.

“What I said… last night…” there was wonderment in his gaze, and it granted her courage. “You can have all of me.”

The light cast from the evanescent fire grew dimmer, the world reducing itself to their own little corner. Dark eyes flickered with something feral, something raw and untamed roiling under the surface, ready to claim her. His fingers touched her ribs, first; a fluttering breath came when he reached the underside of her breast. The largeness of his hand fully enveloped her softness with a gentle squeeze. Sakura gasped, enthralled as was he, captivated by this wordless intimacy.

She let him feel her heartbeat in his palm, let him hold her heart in his hand, allowed him access to the innocence she had to offer.

I just want to make you happy. But also, I’m… being selfish, aren’t I?

His thumb grazed her hardened nipple, flicked it ever so lightly, before drawing away with a satisfied, throaty hum. The way he licked his lips before pulling off his shirt was enough to send her reeling back into the same asphyxiating trance.

A tight shiver ran hotly down her spine, until the very tip of her fingers prickled with the urge to caress him, too.

Sakura reached out, hesitant. Unmoving, Sasuke watched her with riveted gaze. He tensed at her touch, as fingertips traced the defined lines of his body, charting the scars that spread, here and there, across otherwise faultless skin. Muscles rippled as she outlined his stomach, around his navel, the pelvic lines on each side – until her index and ring finger hooked behind the waistband of his pants.

He hissed. Something moved under the cotton slacks, barely brushing her hand, and Sakura’s eyes widened at the reaction.

“Not yet,” he snarled, taking her by the wrist and urging her to lie back down. She complied, cheeks burning deep red as he parted her knees – not just because he was looking at her like this, naked and exposed, but because his stare seared through her skin like hot steam. A rough, calloused hand ran down the length of her thigh with untamed urgency, and she fought the impulse to cover her face with her hands.

She couldn’t take it much longer. The tender ache between her legs, already slick with ardor, resonated with anticipation for the sweet, delicious pressure he had to offer.

This time, as he eased himself upon her once again, they were skin on skin. The sensitive peaks of her breasts, now laid bare against the soft, sinewy muscles of his chest, felt like metal rods ensnared by a thunderstorm.

He was being gentler with his kisses, now. Thoughtful, she considered. This much tenderness coming from him, of all people… Not for the first time today, her heart swelled with delight until it hurt. That they could have come this far, that Sasuke – once so broken, so torn, so cold – could ever be with her like this, brought her bliss beyond words.

Sasuke was saved. He was alive. He was living; and he was letting her love him. Truthfully, he was loving her, wasn’t he?

The bulk of him held her against the ground and made her his, holding her there as if he feared she may fade away. Never, she thought aimlessly, never will I fade from you. She trusted, as their skin glided together, as they danced to the same heartbeat, that he knew this.

The fire finally withered into nothingness, its flames reflected in the shimmer of a blood red eye.

“S-Sasuke-kun…” she panted his name, holding him closer, thighs clenching around his legs as he rolled into her in the muted darkness. His breathing grew louder, rougher, and Sakura began to writhe beneath him, to grind against his hips until her gasps grew frantic, sharper, rising into moans, her pulse in ecstatic turmoil.

“Sa…” he began, but buried her name along with his lips into the crook of her neck, now pushing harder, thrusting against her, and if not for his slacks he’d already be inside her, stirring her from within, blending with her.

And if she already felt this good, this hot and wet with every jerk of his hips and so, so close to the edge, she began to grow impatient with the need for more. Sakura parted her legs further, blindly feeling the length of his back until she finally reached his slacks, sensed his body quiver as she was about to slip her fingers between cloth and skin –

“Don’t – f… fuck!” His weight crushed her, depriving her lungs of air as he shuddered. The lack of oxygen, the friction on her bare sex, rendered Sakura a writhing mess. All she could do was brace herself against him, wrap her arms around his shaking form and ride out the roaring throb of his cock, swollen and impossibly hard, until the shaking had subsided and his breath came back in ragged, deep draws.

I think he… I think he’s…!

After that, Sasuke didn’t move for a while. His body was warm, as if feverish, damp with sweat. A moment passed, and he finally eased some of the weight off her, beginning to stand on his elbows and knees.

In what little moonlight still breached inside the cave, Sakura could finally see his expression: painful satisfaction, traces of guilt. Pleasure. She could see pleasure in his face, and knowing she was the cause of it allowed her some form of pride.

What little tremors still agitated within him in the aftermath of his frenzy, also carried into her; but, in Sakura, these were the prelude of a stolen orgasm, and not the remnants of one.

Still, in her heart, she was contented.

Sakura had been close enough – close enough with him, with Sasuke-kun, was better than anything she’d felt before.

Gently, he lifted himself off her and rolled, unceremoniously, to the ground by her side.

A moment passed, again, in languid silence.

Skin prickling, from the lack of his warmth on her and the murmur of cold air, Sakura began to button her shirt (his shirt, Sasuke’s shirt) back up.

“The fire’s out,” she mumbled, stating the obvious, not knowing what else to say.

“We’re out of dry wood,” he exhaled, still catching up on himself. Then, after a beat, “Sakura, did you…?”

She turned her face toward him, blinking. The question hung in the air until his struggled expression brought its meaning to light.

Goodness.

What was she supposed to answer? What he implied made her self-conscious, and she tittered somewhat nervously. It was kind that he cared enough to ask, but she didn’t just want to say no.

She wanted to say thank you, she wanted to tell him it felt good. He’d made her feel good. This was more than she’d ever hoped for, and if such a thing was at all possible, Sakura loved him even more. Overflowing with endearment that she could not place into words, Sakura but smiled.

Sasuke sighed. “You deserve better.”

“Love isn’t about deserving, Sasuke-kun,” she bristled. They’d had this conversation already, on the night of their first kiss. “I’m not above you. And –”

“Not that,” he smirked, bemused.

(deep down, he still felt her love was something undeserved to the likes of him. but he’d let her win that argument, if it made her happy)

“I meant, this place. It’s cold and damp, it’s uncomfortable. It’s not what I had in mind for…”

She couldn’t keep susprise off her voice. “What you had in mind?”

Sasuke’s face did something close to a grimace. “Forget it.”

Excitement flared at the pit of her stomach. She let it go, holding her tongue despite curiosity’s best efforts. Sasuke was a reserved creature still, and she knew they had to do this at his pace or not at all.

Sakura turned her back to him, allowing him enough privacy to clean himself up and slip back into his shirt. She sighed, content, and closed her eyes. Then, she sneezed.

“Tch.”

Another sneeze.

“You’re cold.”

“I’m fine,” she sniffled.

Sasuke moved closer – annoying, he mumbled – and pulled at the small of her hip. “Be quiet and come here.”

“I-is this okay?”

“Aa.”

“Humm…” With her head tucked against his chest, his arm around her back, legs pulled together, she never felt cozier.

“Tch.”

“Was is it?”

“These were my last clean clothes… Sakura. Stop laughing.”

“I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t.

Just before sleep took over, he kissed the crown of her head and gripped her shirt tightly, just between her shoulder blades; then, he drew a circle with his index before resting his palm against her spine.

She loves him.

.

.

“I finally told my parents,” Sakura sighed. Outside the window of her apartment, dawn trickled away as blue overtook the first hues of pink sunlight.

He looked up from the scroll Kakashi had given them – containing mission details, notes, itinerary, intel – and regarded Sakura patiently.

“About the mission?” He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, itching to be relieved of paperwork.

“It’s funny how I’ve been managing with delegating at the clinic and the hospital, but it took me a while to tell my folks.” Lithe fingers brushed soft pink locks away from iridescent green eyes, and he noticed all too well the way her eyelashes danced the sleep away.

“You’ve been overworking yourself,” he commented. “What time did your shift end last night?”

“I just haven’t had coffee yet. Do you want some?” She stood, ambling over to her small kitchen in little steps.

“Yeah.”

“And toast?”

“Sure. I’ll help.”

“Thanks.”

The domesticity that had settled between them after his return made him feel at ease. It had all started very simply; she’d ask him for dinner or lunch at her apartment, before or after he walked her over to the clinic or the hospital, and then one day he’d showed at her doorstep with a bag of groceries .

He caught her licking the butter off her fingers when she thought he wasn’t looking. Sakura smiled into her napkin, and he found the corner of his own lips curling. She never would have done this – not in front of him – before. But this is now, this is after, and a lot of things they never would have done seem to be getting done, somehow.

Whatever it was that they had, he cherished it.

He cherished her, and intended on doing it for as long as she would allow him.

“I told them it was just us. You and me, on the mission.” Her eyes flicked over at him.

“I see. What did they say?” Not that it made a difference, and not that her parents would have any say in the matter, but he felt he should ask.

(and, maybe, he was a little curious after all)

“They still treat me like a girl sometimes,” she admitted with a hint of exasperation. “But they’ve got to respect my choices. My job and role as a ninja. They know that.”

She took a last sip of her coffee and stretched under the small table. Her right leg bumped into his, but neither of them moved an inch.

“They’re concerned. It’s only normal.” He knew, without having to be said, that he was part of her parents’ reasons to be apprehensive about such an ordeal.

Sakura chucked to herself, briefly, and collected the coffee cups and the dishes in one swift move.

“They said I should ask you over for dinner before we go,” she said, shaking her head. And then she laughed, as if it were the most ludicrous thing in the world. “Well, I’ve got to be at the clinic in ten minutes, so we’d better leave now.”

.

.

“I must say, however… I’m surprised you’ve come here.” Haruno Kizashi sat across him, arms folded and eyebrows raised. To his side, his wife stirred her tea for longer than was necessary.

I am too, Sasuke thought. He’d never met her parents, and still could not quite put a finger on why he’d finally decided on this, whatever this was. He hadn’t expected to be invited in, but there was no stopping the awfully awkward barrage of standard pleasantries that the three of them had engaged in. It appeared that his upbringing within the Uchiha compound had left a shred of instinctual etiquette that he’d somehow been running on ever since he’d rung the doorbell.

Kizashi’s bad anecdotes had only lasted for as long as it had taken to prepare tea, which wasn’t long at all, given Sasuke’s innate inability to react to jokes.

He wanted to make this as quick as possible – again, whatever this was – and went straight to the point.

“I believe Sakura has already informed you that we’ve been given a mission away.”

Mebuki looked up. “She’s told us, yes. It’s just the two of you.” She went back to stirring her tea, but there was something accusatory in her tone.

“Obviously, she wouldn’t discuss the details of it. She said it might take months, and that it has several steps before it’s completed.” Kizashi shrugged, letting out a chuckle. “Of course, none of that concerns us. We know she’s a tough cookie and she’ll hold out on her own.”

Sasuke nodded. “She’s strong and capable, and her medical know-how is a vital key to the success of this particular mission.”

After a beat, Mebuki let out a tense sigh and looked out the window.

“She’s never been away for so long. But that’s… not really our biggest worry.”

“Mebuki…” Her husband looked like he was about to cut her off, but then changed his mind.

For whatever reason, Sasuke braced himself.

“I’m her mother,” the woman said, and the way her eyebrows were set in calm determination left no room for doubts. “And as a woman I’ve had my share of heartbreak, but she was so young…she still is.”

“What my wife means –”

“I understand.” Sasuke didn’t mean to be rude or interrupt, but there was no point in being explained something he already knew.

“We just don’t want to see her spend her days in emptiness. I know, we both know, that you’re a changed man and you’ve helped tremendously during the war.” Kizashi unfolded his arms, purposefully choosing not to touch the dark recesses of Sasuke’s past doings. “But we can’t be sure that you won’t take advantage of her, as a woman.”

Sasuke’s eyes widened at the implication. He managed to steel himself, more out of ire than discomfiture. But, really, he couldn’t blame them. They don’t know him. They don’t know he’d never be able to do such a thing to Sakura.

“I can assure you, Sakura has my utmost respect.”

“You know she’s in love with you, don’t you?” Mebuki held her gaze, as forthright and sharp as her words. “Ever since I can remember, it’s been you. Even after everything, it’s still you. She’s never moved on from her first love, and that’s why…!”

“Neither have I,” he said, before he could even catch his tongue.

Silence befell them. Suddenly, Sasuke became sharply aware of the loud intonation within his ribcage and the ringing it caused in his ears. Were he a coward, he’d use his Rinnegan to disappear from his seat.

“So that’s why you’ve come here, huh? Heh… I guess it can’t be helped…” Kizashi winked and offered Sasuke a thumb’s up. Not without a hearty amount of perplexity, Sasuke relaxed at the change in tone. “In that case, young man, you have my blessings.”

.

.

Sasuke can’t tell whether it’s always been this way or not; maybe it has been. Maybe, just as the stars have always lent their borrowed light to the night’s sky, so has she lent his heart a glimmer of light in the darkness.

Well, not always. There has not always been but darkness in him.

He had known joy. He had known love. Yet, for some time, he believed himself unable to accept either, ever again.

But, thanks to her, he’s learned once more: what it means to have a family. What it means to love unconditionally.

He can’t see himself loving someone else, not like this. Not in this way, no. He never has, and something sharp and decided within his heart tells him he never will. Not after knowing Sakura, and knowing what her love feels like, and receiving what her love gives him.

They do say first love leaves a mark; but what about your only love? It stays with you, becomes a part of you, until one day it outgrows both your bodies and, taking a piece of your hearts with it, steps out into the world. And, this way, you live on beyond your years.

.

.

When I’m older, and my daughter asks me,

“Papa, who was your first love?”

I won’t have to pull out an old photo album.

I will be able to point across the room, and say