#ssm17

But his brain is already racing, trying to figure out how he can let her achieve her own greatness without giving her up entirely. He barely notices her mutter something about dinner and leave, because he is on his computer, scouring Harvard’s website and making notes about the admission process on a nearby notepad.

It’s March now, and their graduation mere weeks away; the second round of applications is over. There is a third round in April, which means he would probably know for sure by May…which is not ideal, since third round applications mean fewer acceptances.

But it’s an option.

Within a matter of hours, he has prepared his own application and portfolio and then picks up his phone to text Sakura—only to decide that it’s better not to say anything until he knows.

She never said explicitly that she had decided on Harvard, and there’s an infinitesimal chance I don’t get in. Getting both our hopes up will help no one.

No, it’s better to wait and see. At least until he finds out exactly what her plans are. Until then, it’s better to act as if Keio is still their default. If anything, he can ask her about it tomorrow.

Except, he doesn’t see Sakura the next day.

Or the next.

With this puzzling fact compounded by Sakura not returning his texts or inquiring emails, Sasuke decides to head over to her house to see her. Not because he’s worried (even if he is), but because her birthday is next week and he wants to make arrangements with her. There’s an escape room that’s just opened near the downtown core, and it looks like something they’d both enjoy.

When he gets to Sakura’s home, he finds his way in barred by Kizashi.

“Sorry, Sasuke, Sakura’s not feeling great today,” he tells him, sympathy on his face but a strange firmness in his tone that leaves no room for argument. “She’ll catch up with you when she’s up to it.”

The door is already closing on him before he has entirely processed this; puzzled, he turns and walks away from the house. It’s almost unheard of, Sakura not wanting to see him, sick or not—he was even allowed to visit her the year she had mono. There are only two instances she ever refused to see him, both times when she had food poisoning.

Maybe that’s what it is, he decides, shrugging off his uneasy feeling. And if it’s not…well, girls are weird. However much he cares about Sakura, he’s the first to admit that she has some strange quirks. Maybe she’s doing one of those cleanse things he finds so ridiculous.

He’ll ask her about it when she’s back to normal.

サスケ

To his eternal shame, he doesn’t notice until it’s too late. By then, the damage is done.

It’s not as though he and Sakura live in each other’s pockets, so it takes him a few days before he realises that something is very wrong. By then, the new world order has been established and stretches into the final weeks of their school year.

She doesn’t answer the door when he comes by on Monday morning, which he supposes means she’s sick, until Mebuki tells him that she’s already left with Ino. When he arrives at school, Sakura is ensconced on the other side of class, surrounded by a bunch of rambunctious girls and she doesn’t even look at him.

He tries to speak to her between classes, but there is always a wall of chatting, laughing girls around, and when he gets close Shikamaru and Chōji are suddenly there to tell him the teacher needs to speak with him or Shino wants to go over their homework questions before handing them in for class.

It doesn’t end there.

When he does work up the courage to try to breech the wall of people, with the eyes of everyone on them, she always has excuses not to meet him for studying or one of their rambling walks in the park. When he asks her about it by text or email, all he receives in return are one-word texts and emoji assurances that everything is fine or she doesn’t have time.

Frustration mounts with every day that passes, and then there’s that baffling encounter at in the school hallway. The chill-inducing news that she’s moving to another country—that she has decided on Harvard after all—and her mystifying declaration that she intends to find “something more than…than this.”

And then Ino whisks her away again.

Once he’s recovered from the shock, Sasuke’s brain starts working again, zeroing in on the common factor in all of this.

Harvard.

Girl friends.

Avoiding him.

Ino.

The universe may be conspiring against him communicating with Sakura, but Ino is another matter entirely. They both take Economics this year, and so before she can pack up her books and head to her next class, he corners her.

“What did you do to Sakura?” he demands.

Ino gapes at him, first in shock, but this is quickly overtaken by anger. “Excuse me? What did I do to Sakura? You’re joking, right?”

“No,” he replies. “She’s avoiding me. And every time I try to ask her why, you and your cabal of nattering hens show up to keep me from getting near her.”

Ino sniffs. “Then maybe you should take the hint.”

“I want to know what’s going on.”

“She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”

“No, you’ll tell me, now.”

“Or what?” Ino snaps. “You’ll get your father to torpedo my family’s company or something? You don’t scare me, Sasuke­-kun. And even if you did, I still wouldn’t tell you anything because Sakura doesn’t want me to.”

“I have a right to know what’s going on.”

“Why?” Ino challenges.

“Because she’s…” he trails off, hesitating when it comes to finding the right word to describe what Sakura is to him.

Ino crosses her arms, frowning at him like she’s trying to decipher something. “Is this you trying to convince me you actually care about her?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands, because of all the stupid statements in the world, he never figured Ino to be the one to voice that particular one. 

“She’s my best friend, it’s my business. And you’re sort of my friend too, so let me give you some advice: if you care about Sakura even a little—more importantly, if you respect her, you need to back off. She’s working through something right now and needs space, and every time you get close to her, you mess her up.”

This brings him up short.

“Mess her up,” he repeats, uncomprehending.

“You two need to learn how to be apart without falling apart,” Ino goes on. “I won’t argue that there’s always been something between you two, but over the years it’s gotten unhealthy. So, back off a bit. And trust her to approach you when she’s ready to.”

She sweeps away then, leaving Sasuke pondering exactly what she means.

The suggestion that his behaviour is somehow hurting Sakura gives him pause, as it’s the last thing he wants. If what Ino says is true, Sakura will explain it all when the time is right. And it’s entirely possible that Ino could be right about the other thing—if Sakura goes to Harvard, and Sasuke doesn’t get in, then they will have to get used to being apart.

So, perhaps this is practice for the future. Looking at it in utilitarian terms like that, he can better accept it. He’s still a little annoyed Sakura couldn’t just tell him that to his face, and he intends to tell her so when he next speaks to her, but until then, he can give her what she wants.

Space.

He thinks.

Just in case, though, he accepts his father’s suggestion of working a part-time data-entry job at the company during his free time. Father thinks it shows initiative, wanting to get to know the company before starting work there, and Mother says he’ll learn how to network and make new friends.

“Better you than me,” Itachi snorts when Sasuke tells him the news, and then forces him into an apron to help him serve during the lunch rush.

The whole ploy is only semi-effective. While Sasuke carries out his duties with ease, his work hours and study hours taking up whatever time isn’t spent sleeping, he’s very conscious that there’s some element missing.

Some person.

The last weeks of school rush by, and then exams, and then he’s accepting his high school diploma. There’s barely time to speak to Sakura at graduation—as valedictorian and the winner of several prizes that year, she has a lot of hands to shake and people to thank. Mother somehow manages to snap a picture of the two of them together, but there’s about a foot of distance between them and the whole two minutes are sickeningly awkward. Sasuke is almost relieved when Itachi shows up to congratulate him, and suddenly the entire event is overshadowed by his father’s glowering disapproval and mother’s insistence that they should leave now.

This more than anything puts a dent into his decision to give Sakura space, because he has never felt awkward or uncomfortable in her presence before, and feels to him as if a physical constant has been grotesquely altered.  

At the end of May, Sasuke gets his acceptance from Harvard. His father isn’t exactly pleased about it, but grants that Harvard is a world-renowned school and it will look good for the future if he goes. And, even Itachi couldn’t get into Harvard.

(Sasuke doesn’t bother pointing out Itachi wasn’t interested enough to try.)

Sasuke decides that day that enough is enough and he will talk to Sakura today, even if he has to sit outside her home until she walks through the door. He pockets his acceptance letter, and also brings along an offering of dango from Itachi’s restaurant.

(Because she likes sweets, and not because he’s trying to endear himself to her.)

Kizashi answers the door, looking surprised to see him.

“I need to speak to Sakura,” Sasuke tells him. “It’s important and I’m not going anywhere until she comes out to speak to me.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time,” Sakura’s father says, bemused. “She left for Boston this morning.”

“She…left,” Sasuke repeats, uncomprehending.

Kizashi scratches his cheek. “I thought it strange you didn’t come see her off.”

“I didn’t,” a voice grumbles, and then Sakura’s mother is framed in the doorway as well. “I thought he was being sensible for once. Whatever you did to my daughter, you should leave her alone. It’s unkind to string someone along, young man, and I hope this is a lesson to you.”

“String…?”

“Now, hold on, Mebuki, you don’t know what happened,” Kizashi protests. “Sakura never said anything had happened—”

“I didn’t need her to say it, I sensed there was something. A mother always knows, after all.”

“Maybe, but you can’t just—whoa! Kid, are you alright? You look pale.”

Their voices seem to be coming from far away, and his knees appear to be rebelling against holding the rest of him but, but Sasuke simply turns away.

“I’m fine,” he answers, his throat feeling like knives with the effort needed to make that sound neutral.

Sakura’s parents might call after him, but he doesn’t hear them.

He doesn’t really notice anything after that, one moment bleeding into another, until he is abruptly back in his brother’s restaurant, breathing into a paper bag.

His lungs burn with every gasp for breath around the lump in his throat, heart racing so fast he expects it to just give out, and the world spinning in a sickening swirl of colour. His entire frame is shaking, and he hasn’t had a panic attack so bad since he was eight and a drunk driver nearly robbed him of his family.

While his parents and brother fought for their lives in surgery, he was left alone in a waiting room surrounded by relatives talking about what would happen to the company if Fugaku died. No one cared that he was sitting right there, and that his family weren’t dead yet. He had such a severe reaction that they needed to sedate him. After it was over, his relatives mocked him for his panic and even after he recovered, Father chided him for losing his composure.

He’s kept such weakness at bay for years, and even Sakura has never seen him in such a state. He had thought he’d conquered it by now, but judging by the letter clenched in his hand and the crushed package of dango on the floor, he hasn’t.

Eventually sounds permeate the rushing noise in his ears, and he makes out his brother’s voice.

“Sasuke, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“She didn’t say goodbye,” Sasuke replies dimly. It should explain everything, but apparently this concept is too beyond his supposedly genius brother, because over the next fifteen minutes Itachi keeps teasing small details out of him.

It’s annoying, but it forces Sasuke to focus.

While Shisui boils water for tea, Itachi slowly pries out the whole story, which takes a while because every time he opens his mouth, Sasuke expects he might throw up. The nausea that has been lurking behind his frustration the past few weeks appears to have exploded, and his chest aches like it’s been scraped out by a spoon, and he has the absurd, infantile impulse to burst into tears.

Eventually Itachi sits back, a confused expression on his face.

“I know Sakura, and it would have to be something pretty serious to happen for her to leave you without saying goodbye,” Itachi tells him quietly. “She’s been in love with you since you were little kids.” Sasuke nods jerkily at this, which makes Itachi raise an eyebrow. “You’re…not surprised by this.”

“It was understood,” Sasuke says, concentrating on enunciating every word. “She didn’t exactly hide it.”

“So, all this time, you two have been together?”

“Of course.”

Itachi shakes his head, frowning in something like disappointment. “Then what could make the kindest, most understanding girl in the world not tell her boyfriend she was leaving the country.” Sasuke scowls. “What?”

“That’s such an insipient word.”

“…Boyfriend?” This time it’s both of his eyebrows that raise heavenward, and then comprehension dawns. “Sasuke…can I ask you something?”

“You—”

“Don’t feel the need to point out that I just did.”

“Tch.”

“In all this time—all this planning of yours, encouraging Sakura to do her best and succeed and you keeping her nearby so you could have a future together—did you ever, even just one time, tell her how you feel about her?”

“She knows.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

“She has an IQ of 170, she’s not stupid.”

“I didn’t say she was,” Itachi replies slowly. “But sometimes people—women especially—require certain things to be stated in specific terms. So, I’ll ask you again: have you ever, in your entire relationship with Sakura, told her that you…have feelings for her?”

“…”

“…”

The world seems to crystalize around him and it’s as if something audible clicks into place.

“Oh.”

Itachi exhales tiredly and hands Sasuke the cup of tea. “Tell me everything that happened the last time you spoke to Sakura.”

Curious if there’s something he missed, Sasuke forces himself to concentrate, casting his mind back to the last few face-to-face interactions he’s had with Sakura. When he relates her question about dating, Itachi inhales sharply, and as he points out his argument about Sakura needing to go to Harvard because there was nothing here for her, Shisui’s hand slaps against his forehead.

“Sasuke…just…think about how all that sounded,” his brother suggests tightly.

“To a normal person that doesn’t have the emotional range of a teaspoon,” Shisui adds.

Sasuke is quiet, factoring in what he knows of Sakura’s temperament, and how, based on past experience, she may have interpreted what he said to her.

His eyes widen.

“Shit.”

“I think that’s an appropriate assessment,” Itachi agrees wearily.

“Face it, kid, you fucked up,” Shisui says with a whistle.

“I can fix this,” Sasuke says decisively, and stands up. “A simple explanation should clear this up. And if she won’t answer me by conventional means, the airport isn’t far. I’ll go to Boston and find her and tell her in person.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” his brother says.

This brings him up short. “What?”

“You mean aside from all the practical, logistical details?” Shisui deadpans, but goes quiet when Itachi sends him a warning look.

“For two reasons,” Itachi goes on. “First of all, Sakura obviously needs some space to recover. She did leave for a reason. If you thinking she’s just left you behind without warning effect you like this, chances are she’s going through her own difficulties. I imagine what you said to her broke her heart.”

Sasuke begins to protest, but Shisui interrupts. “Itachi’s right. And that’s something that will have to heal before she’s in the right mind to listen to you again. She might be angry, she might be sad, but she’s definitely going to be hurt. And people don’t like to be around the things that hurt them, much less listen to whatever groveling you intend to do.”

“The second reason is for your own sake,” Itachi continues.

“…My sake?”

“Sasuke, you just had a panic attack when you realised Sakura was gone,” his brother points out gently. “That’s only one example of an extreme reaction. We are a family that is run by our emotions and temperament. You wouldn’t want to do something to harm Sakura.”

“I would never harm Sakura,” Sasuke snaps, disgusted.

“Not intentionally. But I think before you pursue her, you should be very sure of what it is you want to pursue, and whether it’s even healthy for you. Both of you. Right now, from what I’ve seen, you are heavily dependant on her. It’s unhealthy. And I take some responsibility for that.”

This temporarily distracts him. “You?”

“I wasn’t around enough when you were younger,” Itachi explains, apologetic. “I didn’t encourage you to make other friends or teach you how to be alone in a healthy manner. You’ve never even had a friend before Sakura or outside of her. And even that’s a different case, because you’ve made clear that she is more than your friend.”

“The point he’s trying to make is, if you’re going to go halfway around the world, it shouldn’t just be to follow a girl,” Shisui interjects “Go for your own sake, and your own future.”

“Sakura is my future,” Sasuke replies without hesitation. This is as basic a fact to him as the concept of plants converting oxygen into carbon dioxide.

“She’s part of it,” Itachi shakes his head. “She’s not all of it.”

Sasuke clenches his fist in frustration, trying to hide the sudden wave of vulnerability and exhaustion that settles over him. “So what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Well, if you’re set on Harvard, term starts in August. I’d say you have three months to figure it all out,” Itachi says.

サクラ

Term might not start until August, but Sakura ends up glad she and Ino decided to spend the summer settling in to their new home.

The first few weeks are spent in a whirlwind of activity, as Ino’s parents help the two of them move into their dorm and learn to navigate the vast, sprawling campus that is Harvard. She is so busy learning where everything is located and which administrator she has to speak to for help with her courses and how the transit system here works, that she barely has time to call her parents, let alone other people.

Specific other people.

There are half a dozen unopened emails from Sasuke in her inbox, which hover reproachfully at the back of her mind even as Ino’s parents ferry them through city tours and furniture warehouses. She’s been meaning to contact him since landing in Boston, but every time she gets up the courage, anxiety over what he might say rears its ugly head.

At least she doesn’t have to worry about text messages anymore, since her phone doesn’t work here. She doesn’t have to ask Ino to screen them anymore, which she hated doing.

None of this assuages her guilt, but at least her eventful days can put it out of mind temporarily.

Just because term hasn’t started doesn’t mean she and Ino are left on an empty campus. As soon as they arrive, they are introduced by their dorm advisor to the other suitemates. There’s Tenten, a friendly and forthright girl from Hong Kong, who introduces herself right away.

“I’m going to be an Applied Engineer,” she tells them without needing to be prompted. “What’s the point of building stuff if you can’t actually use it?”

Then there’s Temari, an aloof young woman with an accent Sakura can’t quite place, who reveals noncommittally that she’s studying government.

“It’s what my family does,” she states, and will volunteer no more.

Finally, there’s Karui, a proud native of New York who intends to major in both Mathematics and Women’s Studies.

“I couldn’t decide which one I preferred, so I’ll just do both,” she says, when the other girls’ express amazement at her ambition (and minor horror at the course load she’ll likely face).

Then Sakura has to spend ridiculous amounts of time in government offices, going over last-minute student-visa information, finding out how she can legally get a job while she’s there (she may be on scholarship, but it’s never too late to start saving for her medical program!) and then actually looking for work. It boggles the mind how many people look at her in amazement because she can actually speak English.

Why would I be going to an American college if I couldn’t speak English?

Eventually she finds one of the big bookstores in the area is hiring, and it’s not the best job out there, but the hours are flexible and they tell her she can cut back or add depending on her schedule in the fall.

“Most of our employees are students,” the hiring manager tells her with a shrug, and a tone heavily implying a high turnover rate.

Another month goes by, and still Sakura can’t get used to how strange it is not to be communicating with Sasuke. Whenever something new happens in the dorm room or she sees something he would think is amusing or interesting, she reaches for her new phone to text him about it—but then forcibly stops herself. She knows if she does, it’s only a matter of time before she opens the floodgates to their unhealthy relationship once more.

サクラ

She’s heading home from work one summer evening, when she becomes aware that she is being followed. There’s a half-dozen guys hanging outside one of the student-frequented pubs, drinking beer and whistling at girls who walk past.

“Hey, she’s one of the pretty ones!”

 “Nee-HOW!” one of them calls at her, the sneer obviously meant to be endearing but making her want to hiss as she walks by.

The behaviour is juvenile, and makes Sakura roll her eyes, but she becomes a little wary when their inebriated jokes don’t fade away. Two of the raucous young men have followed her.

“Hey! Sweetheart! Come back with us, we’ll buy you a drink!”

“Yeah, we just wanna show you a good time!”

As she crosses one of the streets that short-cut to the campus, her gut sinks to find the road is empty.

“Hey, don’t be so stuck up,” someone says and she feels an unwelcome touch on her backside one moment, and then another someone is grabbing her bag. “Come on, take a break from studying!”

Sakura’s body moves on its own, one hand snapping out and dragging the guy closest to her backward, shoving him onto his back. A combination of natural clumsiness, surprise and alcohol result in him falling flat on his back, and before he can recover she aims a kick to his groin area, then his face. She’s just winding up for the third blow, when his friend tackles her from behind, arms going around her.

Her elbow juts into his solar plexus, and he doubles over, gasping for air, she reaches over her shoulder, grasps his arm and bends into his body, living him over her shoulder and flipping him onto his back as well. She stomps down on the second guy’s gut enough to hobble him, and takes off before any of their friends show up.

Her heart beats in wild panic as she half-walks, half runs away, adrenaline and dismay warring for supremacy. She’s alright—aside from a bruised fist when she hit against something that wasn’t bone, she’s uninjured—but the incident itself is shocking. Her entire frame shakes and she has the bizarre urge to cry, and her hands are already scrambling for her phone to call Sasuke.

She might even start dialling his phone number from memory, when she senses a presence behind her.

Whirling around, fist raised and knees bent to ward of any one else who might attack her, she instead finds herself face to face with a tall, blond guy her age.

“Hey—hey, relax, I’m not going to hurt you!” he cries, hands up where she can see them and maintaining several feet of distance between them. “I came to see if you’re alright. I saw the whole thing from down the bloack, but couldn’t get to you in time---not that I needed to, apparently. You did a great job on those dicks.”

Sakura’s eyes dart around, just in case, but he appears genuine. There are more people around now as well, so if he tried anything, all she’d have to do is scream.

“If you want to file a report, I’ll back you up,” he goes on. “Those guys are scum.”

“I…” she begins, and then swallows. “I don’t know. I have to…”

She has a sudden vision of her actions coming back to her, and having her scholarship revoked or something equally disturbing. Immediately after, a vision of those louts doing the same thing to another girl—one who doesn’t have the ability to fight them off.

Sakura squares her shoulders. “Yes. I have to report this.”

“I’ll come with you. It happened on campus, so we have to go to the campus police,” he offers. When she hesitates, he points in the direction of the campus, “That way. In full view of lights and security cameras and other people.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

“After what just happened, you’re not being rude, you’re being smart,” he shakes his head. “Especially considering it could have been a lot worse. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m…fine,” she says, though she feels anything but fine.

She’s still shaking from the adrenaline, and he seems to notice, because he starts to talk. About everything and anything, completely random complaints about traffic in Boston to his roommates obsession of hockey to the clam chowder he had for lunch that day.

As they wander, she slowly volunteers a few things about herself, her brain gearing down from its sudden burst of quick thinking earlier. At some point she mentions calling her parents and then worrying about the time difference, because his expression brightens then.

“You’re Japanese!” he declares, and then to her surprise, he switches to her native tongue. “So, are you actually a student here, or just walking through our overpriced campus for the bragging rights?”

He has a bit of a weird accent, and he ends his sentences with dattebayo, but it’s endearing somehow.

“I’m a student here,” Sakura confirms. “And you speak Japanese very well.”

“I should. My parents moved to California from Tokyo when I was a kid. They spoke it enough around me that I picked it up, but I’ve never had anyone but them to practice with,” he grins. “You’ll help out, won’t you…?” His eyes go comically wide. “Oh, crap. I just realised, I forgot to introduce myself—I’m Naruto Uzumaki.”

Sakura blinks. “That’s…quite a name.”

“Yeah, I’ve wondered about it for years. Either my parents were really stoned and hungry, or they chose the name out of the nearest book. What about you?”

“Haruno Sakura. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise!” Naruto beams. “I bet we’re going to get along great. Especially because, seeing what you can do, I promise I will never, ever mouth off to you, okay?”

This elicits a startled laugh from her, and a little of the weight from earlier lifts.

There ends up being no one in the office when they get there, meaning Sakura will have to wait until the next day to file her report, but Naruto promises to meet her there in the morning if she needs him.

“I might be half asleep when I get here, because I don’t really do mornings, but I’ll totally be there—believe it!”

She’s still not feeling entirely herself, though, and she lets him walk her to her dorm.

The minute she gets upstairs to her room, she has her phone in her hands and stares down at the screen, thumb hovering over the digits to try to decide who to call. Eventually, she decides there’s no point to worrying anyone, not until she’s filed the report. Her parents are too far away to do anything, and Sasuke…

Would he even care?

Immediately she feels a sick sense of guilt over that thought, because she knows that he would. Even if he doesn’t love her romantically, they were (are?) friends and protective of one another, at least in some situations.

No. Telling him what happened can’t be the first thing I say to him after not talking for so long. Ugh, why did this become so complicated?!

She throws herself back on her bed in frustration, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

At some point, Ino returns to their room, toweling off damp hair. “So, I noticed you didn’t come back here alone.”

The comment is far from innocent.

“Yeah, that’s Naruto,” Sakura replies easily, ignoring the implication.

“He’s cute. In a dopey, cinnamon roll puppy kind of way.”

“Don’t do that, Ino.”

“Do what?”

“Start with the matchmaking,” Sakura retorts, throwing a pillow at her friend. “I’m not in the mood. Really not in the mood. We only just met, and besides, I’m not ready for any kind of relationship.”

“Why not? The best way to get over a broken heart is a rebound boy.”

“Clearly you’ve never actually had your heart broken, or you wouldn’t say that,” Sakura retorts.

サクラ

As it turns out, though, friendship with Naruto is instant and easy. It’s almost seamless.

From the morning when he waits to meet her and helps file her report, providing a witness statement and grousing at the university employees for making them wait for results (which apparently they’ll be informed of by the dean’s office “at some point”), he’s another new fixture in her life.

They have a lot of things in common, from a guilty pleasure of watching WWE and the Princess Gale movie franchise, to spending entire afternoons at a fair and sampling as many different cuisines as possible. When she’s not hanging out with Ino or the girls in her dorm, she spends her free time with Naruto, either out on the campus or in his dorm’s common room. There always seems to be some kind of gathering or activity happening there, which she enjoys though she imagines it will make studying hard come fall.

Her new friend also has a tendency to get into scrapes—and drag her along with him.

He nearly burns down his dorm room with an illegal hot plate one day. Another evening they go for drinks at the local pub, and then drunk-challenge each other to see who can climb the largest tree on campus before security notices them. One night they chase someone’s illegally kept cat through the quad and return him to the owner.

She nurses him through a spring cold that has him moaning and complaining and utterly useless, and plays video games with him on his console, though she doesn’t let him win. They people watch, making up stories for strangers, and text memes to each other over Facebook. He shows up in the mornings with coffee and donuts for her, takes Ino’s attention off her when her friend’s overbearing and overprotective nature sometimes becomes more to bear and purposefully acts like a clown when he notices she’s sad.

Which still happens, more than she’d like.

Naruto is her rock, offering her support she didn’t even realise she was missing, even before losing Sasuke.

And yet…

There’s still a hole.

Some essential element is still missing.

There’s no chemistry between her and Naruto; no spark, no romance.

It frustrates her, because there should be. He’s funny and kind, a little rough around the edges, but it makes life interesting. At the end of the day when she returns to her dorm, she always has a smile on her face, shaking her head at his most recent antics. He is what any girl would want, and just based on their relationship, it should be possible for them to fall into something more than friendship. She suspects he wants that, and thinking on Ino’s words, doesn’t she deserve to try that?

I do, she tells herself. This is the something more I was looking for, right?

She resolves herself, deciding it’s all just a matter of effort. The age-old maxim “fake it until you make it” could apply here.

And so she dresses up a little more, taking care in her appearance before they go out. She lets Naruto link their arms when they ramble through the campus, and when he insists on feeding her his favourite ramen “because it’s amazing, Sakura, believe it!” she lets him. She invites him to join her and Ino at karaoke, and they croon horribly off-key 80s power-ballads at each other. One day he surprises her by taking her roller-skating, which she hasn’t done since before she met Sasuke. It’s cliché and cheesy, but she sort of loves it, in a different way than she loved geocaching or boat trips with Sasuke. She drags him to the museums in the area, trying to share her interests with him, and though she can tell it’s not his thing, he’s still enthusiastic for her sake. He offers her his hand as they stroll through the sculptures and oil paintings

And if his hand doesn’t fit hers the right way, the way Sasuke’s did, well that’s because he’s a different person. She’ll get used to the way this feels.

And if she doesn’t really miss Naruto when she doesn’t seem him for a few days, then that’s healthy, right? She goes an entire week without hearing from him beyond a few texts and images shared over Facebook, and she barely pauses in her plans with Ino.

But she still routinely checks her emails and texts for news from Sasuke and tries to ignore the scraping, clawing feeling in her chest and throat at the fact he doesn’t even reach out to her anymore.

This is what I wanted, she tells herself, even as it rings hollow in her thoughts.

One night, a week before term officially begins, she and Naruto meet up on their way back to campus. They grab ice cream on the way—even though Naruto is lactose intolerant and always pays for his little indulgences violently the next day—and wander through the courtyard. Eventually he steers them over to a bench where they finish their ice cream and then, there’s a sudden silence between them.

It’s uncharacteristic, because they’re never really quiet together, and Sakura shifts nervously, unsure what to expect. When Naruto leans in, like he’s going to kiss her, and she is conscious she’s supposed to lean in now, too.

That’s how it works. Your first kiss. You’ve dreamed about this.

But it feels wrong.

There’s a pit in her stomach that won’t go away and she feels like crying.

This isn’t who she’s supposed to be sharing it with.

It’s not that she doesn’t like Naruto, because she does. She cares deeply about him and he has quickly become one of her favourite people. He might even be as dear to her as Ino is.

However, the idea of kissing him doesn’t bring her a thrill. Now that she thinks it through, having him put his arms around her makes her feel safe and comfortable and cared for, but there’s no stimulus when they touch. No breathless feeling, no universe coming to a standstill, no electricity racing over her skin, and no sense of reaching out for a missing piece of herself.

And if that was meant to happen, shouldn’t it have already?

It’s been months of spending time together as friends and if it was meant to happen, shouldn’t it have already? Is it fair to Naruto to keep trying if she doesn’t feel for him?

Then again, I might not now, but maybe in the future?

But…what if in the future she doesn’t? And then they both have their hearts broken and she loses his friendship?

But what if I lose his friendship right now for rejecting him?

He’ll be gone and she’ll have that hole again.

Except…the hole never really got filled to begin with, did it?

The questions and anxiety flit around her brain in an endless circle, freezing her like a statue as she desperately tries to sort all this out.

Naruto notices her pause, and pulls back.

“It’s not meant to be, is it?” he asks her, sounding sad.

“I…”

“You’re still hung up on that guy.”

“Wait…what?”

“Ino told me about him. Sounds like a real bastard, honestly, but what can you do? I had hoped…but I get it.” He shrugs and smiles, and despite a tinge of sadness, it’s still his usual open, wonderful smile.

A smile that doesn’t belong to her.

Not in the way she expects. She sees that directed at everyone, because he is friendly with everyone and a good guy. He’s kind and open and always trying to be everyone’s friend, encourage them to do better, to call on him when they need someone. In a way, Naruto shares himself with everyone, and that’s a great quality.

But there’s a tiny, selfish part of Sakura that believes two people in love share something only amongst themselves.

When Sasuke used to smile at her, it was for her. When their eyes met, there was always a shared moment, just between the two of them, like they had a secret no one else could ever know. And that was with him spectacularly ignorant toward her feelings; her heart still flutters at the idea of him loving her like she loves him.

Oh.

‘Loves’.

I’m still in love with him, she realises. But…it’s been months. The more time passes, the less I should…

The urge to cry increased, but she doesn’t know if it’s more in sadness of frustration with the whole situation.

I’m a horrible person. Here we are, I’ve just rejected him, and all I can think about is Sasuke. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I understand if you don’t get it, or if you don’t want to be friends anymore,” she mumbles, looking down at her feet.

“Of course I still want to be friends,” Naruto says, puzzled. “It sucks, yeah, but it would have been worse if you didn’t say anything. Besides. I sort of get it.”

“R-really?”

“Well, not the being hung up on another guy thing. From what Ino said, he sounds like a clueless moron,” Naruto disdains, and Sakura snorts in bitter laughter because she can’t argue. “But feeling like you really connect to a person in a way you can’t with anyone else? I get that.”

Sakura cocks her head to one side, curious.

“I’ll tell you about it another time,” he tells her. “The point is, you can’t help who you have chemistry with. I just hope that, if you can’t find it with me, and if you didn’t find it with him, one day you find it with someone. Anyone.”

Sakura sighs. “I don’t think it’s that easy…”

つづく

If the progression of Naruto and Sakura’s relationship seems fast, it’s intentional. This happens over a period of months and remember, this story is based on Sakura and Sasuke’s relationship. This chapter is just to take a look at what they’re doing while they’re missing each other and unable to find that “other half” feeling with other people. We may just get to see a reunion next chapter, depending on where my editing muse chooses to take me…

栗

“We have a room with one double bed available,” the clerk shot out like it was a challenge, her concerns over providing quality customer service cast aside (one of the perks of working for the only inn in the vicinity, Sasuke figured. She could be as rude as she wanted and still get clientele).

He turned to look at his travelling companion who just shrugged without meeting his gaze.

By the way, just to make things clear, when I said that Sasuke liked his travelling companion, I meant that in the friendliest and most platonic of ways. He wasn’t pursuing her romantically or anything.

…Right?

Honestly, despite what he had told himself time and time again, Sasuke sure as hell didn’t know anymore.

He just asked Sakura to join him on his travels because he missed her, though he didn’t really know why. Maybe it was because she reminded him of happier times and was one of the few people in the world who cared for him unconditionally (and there was something undeniably heart-warming about that).

But then as their travelling stretched on for days and weeks and months, Sasuke remembered some of the other things he missed about Sakura: her intelligence, her ability to communicate clearly, her nurturing inclinations, her grand and inspiring ambitions, her emerald green eyes that could always tell exactly what he needed, her petite yet muscular physique that was both a weapon and a pleasant distraction, the way she touched his arms to remind him he would never be alone again, the way her smile made his heart stutter…

Okay, so maybe he loved her.

But he was determined not to admit it to himself (or, God forbid, to her) because he wasn’t good with emotions or words which was why poor Sakura was feeling confused and uncharacteristically reserved.

She knew she loved Sasuke – had always known– and was comfortable admitting it to herself, and even to him if the opportune moment arose. But with Sasuke being so silent and protective of his own feelings, she was trapped on the dreaded receiving end of his mixed signals. Thus, she kept her own feelings bottled up, lest she ruin this delicate yet comfortable companionship that had bloomed between them.

So, no, this wasn’t a planned sexual excursion by any stretch, but rather, an unintentional one that neither of them thought the other one wanted (but actually did).

The nerves hit the both of them at around the same time – when they dropped their bags and Sasuke went to take the first shower.

Generally, Sasuke had two pressing concerns: 1) he didn’t want to do something wrong. He was acutely aware of his ex-criminal status and the endless number of things Sakura suffered through because of it. As much as he felt secure in their relationship, or whatever exactly it was, he was secretly terrified of overstepping some invisible boundary and straining it. His ties to his home village were fragile, and she represented one of the few strings that hadn’t worn thin. And 2) he wasn’t entirely sure where Sakura’s head was at. Sure, she was treating him as fondly as ever, but she was also an exceptionally kind and smiley person, so he wasn’t sure if that was just her usual demeanor these days.

Plus, she hadn’t confessed her feelings to him since their journey began.

Well, not that it would have made sense for her to, but unfortunately for Sakura, unless she made her feelings explicit and clear, Sasuke was simply incapable of figuring them out.

And, perhaps above all, removing his clothes for his shower didn’t help Sasuke’s thoughts from running astray down even more confusing paths.

Does she want to…?

He did if she did, he realized and his face burned (a sensation he wasn’t terribly familiar with). But he also knew that it was only right that they held off on pursuing something physical until they sorted out what was going on between them emotionally. And Sasuke was utterly dreadful at talking about emotions.  

What a mess.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s concerns were a little more complicated.

Well, they stemmed from one overarching concern, namely, rejection, but there were plenty of sub-concerns, including: did Sasuke see her as just a friend? Did he even see her as a woman? Would he treat this like a mission (on which romantic advances were frowned upon)? Was he going to leave again? Was she attractive enough?

Sakura dug through her pack for a clean outfit to wear to bed and managed to find a red tank top and grey plaid shorts. Not exactly the most appealing outfit but at least it didn’t smell like dirt and campfire smoke (like she suspected she currently did).

Sasuke finished his shower sooner than Sakura thought he would. By the time she heard the water turn off she hadn’t even located her shampoo from her bag yet.

Moments later, when Sasuke emerged from the bathroom, Sakura took one apprehensive glance in his direction and promptly dropped her recently-located shampoo right back into her bag. Her stomach dropped too.

Her travelling partner was wearing a white t-shirt that clung to his wonderfully-sculpted chest and torso in all the right places, and dark pants hiked up his calves. All the while, his black, towel-dried hair was resuming a bit of its natural spike, and stray water droplets clung to the flawless skin of his…

Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip…

Sakura snatched up her shampoo along with her clothes and toiletries and bolted for the bathroom without a word to her traveling partner.

The door slammed shut behind her and Sasuke stared at it in utter disbelief that he already screwed something up, somehow.

He sighed and stalked over to the bed. Sakura was clearly uncomfortable with the arrangement. But if it was going to be such a big problem, why didn’t she say something sooner?

Maybe she felt too pressured to speak up, Sasuke realized with a pang of discomfort. No, he didn’t want that. Sasuke genuinely cared about Sakura and wanted her to feel safe, especially when she was around him.

He resolved to give no further indication that he was trying to force her into anything.

Sasuke claimed the side of the bed closer to the window and tucked himself into the (extremely comfortable, feather-light) white duvet cover and faced the star-sprinkled night sky through the parted curtains. He just needed to sleep, forget this unfortunate arrangement ever happened, and then they would resume their normal, mutually friendly and content routine again when they set out in the morning.

But Sasuke was just as wide awake by the time he heard Sakura turn off the hair dryer. Damn it.

Sakura, however, had a problem of a different nature to deal with.

She didn’t bring a bra with her into the bathroom. In fact, she didn’t have a single clean bra left to wear that wasn’t grimy and they weren’t visiting a laundromat until tomorrow.

Okay, so to be honest, Sakura’s real problem wasn’t her lack of bra. It was the chilly air. Or the thinness of her tank top. Or some combination of the three.

Well, whichever it was, Sasuke didn’t need a shred of imagination to learn precisely how his female, ex-teammate had grown up since they were kids.

Face flaming, Sakura ruffled the fabric of her shirt to no avail, gave up, creaked open the bathroom door, and sprinted to the bed as fast as her feet could carry her.

She landed on the mattress with such force that Sasuke’s body sprang into the air.

He spun around, alarmed (and a little annoyed that his plan of pretending to be asleep and ignoring his teammate for the rest of the night was spoiled), but found Sakura to be curled up with the duvet pulled up to her chin and facing away from him. “Good night!” she squeaked, her heart thudding against her chest like a rabbit’s in the face of a predator.

Sasuke’s own heart was beating profoundly quickly. “Night,” he mumbled, while fighting an uncharacteristic urge to stammer, and rolling back onto his side to face the window.

For the next hour, Sasuke and Sakura proceeded to lie awake and stare at opposite walls all while pretending to be asleep, limiting bodily movements, and becoming increasingly aware of the other person’s body heat.

It was strange how everything changed now that they were in a proper bed. Heck, they’d shared body heat countless times on cold nights in the woods, but out there it was a survival tactic.

In here, it was for leisure.

After what felt like an eternity of ruminating, Sasuke dozed off first, and like a chain-reaction, his steady breathing lulled Sakura into sleep.

But not for long.

After perhaps an hour of perusing through the first three stages of the sleep cycle, Sakura’s mind entered the worst of what the REM stage had to offer: twisted and blood-churning nightmares of the fourth shinobi war.

She woke with a start, just when Kaguya’s long, skeletal fingers wrapped around her nightmare self’s throat, and shot up into a sitting position, completely disorientated. Sakura blinked around through the darkness, trying to gauge her surroundings and willing her heartrate to resume normal patterns…

That was when something stirred beside her and Sakura, who clearly forgot about the bed-sharing arrangement in her moment of panic, yelped with surprise.

Sasuke bolted upright and flicked on the bedside light in one fluid motion.

His travelling partner and bedmate froze, like a deer in the headlights, and blinked at him until the puzzle pieces came together.

Not detecting any obvious threats, Sasuke asked, “What?” and his voice came out harsher than he intended it to (but if there was trouble, he wanted to cut to the chase).

“I-I,” Sakura stammered, her cheeks tinting red as she turned away from him. Embarrassment swam through her chest. “I had a nightmare,” she finally got out and beginning the mental countdown for Sasuke to toss one of his infamous unimpressed remarks (such as you’re annoying or tch).

But, to her surprise, he provided no such responses. “About what?” he asked and watching her out of the corner of his eye. And despite how much he hated the fear written in her features, he couldn’t help but notice her enticingly raw beauty in the dim lighting. Her pale, shoulder-length hair was gently mused from sleep, her wide, emerald eyes flitting shyly in his direction, her fair skin practically glowing, a strap of her red tank-top slipping from her shoulder…

Focus.

Sakura chuckled nervously and wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “The war. Kaguya. That kind of stuff.” She prayed to the Gods she was coming off as cool and collected because it sure as hell wasn’t how she was feeling, especially because she was certain that Sasuke was afraid of next to nothing.

But unbeknownst to Sakura, Sasuke himself had more nightmares than dreams. However, that didn’t mean he knew how to comfort another person from them.

“Okay,” he said, and easing back onto his pillow, except this time he lay on his back and he didn’t turn off the light.

Sakura bit her lip, taking Sasuke’s motion as dismissal. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled and staring determinedly at the white duvet cover.

Sasuke raised his eyebrows. “Fear isn’t a weakness,” he said, almost automatically. That was something his late brother would say to him. “It’s a survival instinct that can be channeled into strength.”

Sakura whirled around and met his gaze, her eyes wide with surprise.

Did I say something… wrong? he wondered and trying again.

“We kicked Kaguya’s ass, anyways,” he continued and closing his eyes. “And if a threat like her came back and put you in danger, I’d take care of them.” Sasuke nodded definitively and waited for Sakura to respond, or perhaps to ease back into bed, but she didn’t do either of those things.

After creaking an eye open, Sasuke found that his teammate hadn’t moved a muscle and that she was, in fact, gaping at him in awe.

Sasuke stared back, scanning every inch of her face intently because he still couldn’t tell if what he said upset her somehow.

But then there were tears collecting in Sakura’s tear ducts and a radiant smile blossoming on her lips. And Sasuke’s heart began thrumming like a galloping horse.

“Thank you,” Sakura said, her breath catching in her throat.

Sasuke opened his mouth and closed it again, experiencing the uncharacteristic sensation of wanting to say something but being at a loss for words.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s heart was fluttering and she couldn’t look away.

Sasuke’s inviting and (dare she say) gentle response to her disclosing her deep-seeded fears was certainly not the kind of response she was expecting.

It was also properly dawning on her that she was indeed sharing a bed with one of the most breathtakingly handsome men who she had ever laid eyes on and who she just so happened to have been in love with for all of her life.

And he was staring at her with a heavy and interested stare.

And Sakura was right that Sasuke was interested in her, but he felt there was a problem.

Sakura was beautiful. Sakura was pure. Sakura’s entire being radiated goodness.

And Sasuke, the ex-international criminal, sure as hell didn’t deserve to have someone like her by his side.

His mind proceeded to become trapped in a dark, downward spiral as it occurred to him that he himself had probably been one of the sources of his travelling companion’s nightmares.

I intended to hurt her at one terrible point in my life…

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice dripping with self-loathing, while sitting up against the headboard and directing his gaze at the duvet, “for what I did in the war.”

Sakura took one look at her bedmate’s troubled expression and her heart ached. And then she did one of the bravest things she’d ever done, save stabbing Madara on the war front.

She reached forward, cupped Sasuke’s face with her hand and forced him to look at her. Sasuke’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Hey,” she said, trying out a comforting yet commanding tone. “We’ve been over this. I forgave you.”

Sasuke’s mouth dried, his heart pounding like he was nearing a battlefield to face off against another god. He wasn’t used to being subjected in this way but for some reason, he didn’t have it in him to resist. “You didn’t have to,” he blabbed out, and why he was so persistent to get her to admit the last thing he wanted her to admit was beyond him.

But instead Sakura shook her head and smiled again, and the smile met her eyes, glistening in the dim light of the bedside lamp. “I don’t hate you. My feelings for you never changed.”

Her determined stare was piercing, and dizzying – so much so that Sasuke didn’t process exactly when he reached up to lace his fingers through hers. And neither of them consciously realized that they were moving closer to each other or that an entrancing electric current passed between them at that very moment.

Their eyes were wide and locked on each other.

Does this mean that she still…? After all this time?

Sasuke closed his mouth and ran his tongue over his dry lips as his eyes flickered to her mouth.

And from there, it was hard to say who actually made the first move, but from some combination of Sakura shifting her bodyweight forward (ever so slightly) and Sasuke straightening up against the bedframe (while giving her hand a light tug), their lips found each other.

The motion startled the both of them and Sakura even inhaled sharply through her nose. Their lips touched with a surprising softness, a deliberate carefulness, and it was just enough to send exhilarated chills through their chests and bellies. Sasuke sighed against the comforting pressure and wondered why he hadn’t tried doing this sooner.

And before either of them knew quite what was going on, Sasuke was pulling her on top of him and Sakura was willingly following through with the movement, and then she was on his lap and their arms were around each other and they were kissing with impatient fervor.

Sasuke sat as high as he could against the bedframe and bent his knees so that Sakura slid even closer to him, her body inadvertently rubbing along his and filling him with an eagerness like he had never felt before.

His hand roamed from her arms to the back of her neck to her hair, while Sakura’s hands found the sides of Sasuke’s face as she indulged in their frantic, abrupt throw of passion. Sakura was even the one (being the ever-brave soul she was) who took the first tentative suck on her bedmate’s lower lip and slid her tongue over it, past it, and into his mouth.

And when Sasuke’s raspy groan met her ears, Sakura swore it was the most beautiful, intoxicating thing she’d ever heard.

It encouraged her, and soon they were using their tongues to explore and massage each others’ and the insides of each others’ mouths. The sensation was warm and arousing and Sakura couldn’t help but feel surprised by how sure Sasuke was with every motion as his hands roamed a little lower, wandering from her shoulders to her collarbone…

I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe this is…

Sakura froze.

Sasuke pulled back in an instant, alarmed by her sudden pause. “What?” he asked.

Their eyes met and Sakura noticed the confusion and panic written in his features. She just stared at him, her mind going blank as she watched his eyes flit across her face, concerned, and his chest rise and fall with each breath.

“N-nevermind,” she said and leaning in again, but just milliseconds after their lips grazed, Sasuke took a firm grip of his former teammate’s shoulders and forced her upright.

“What’s wrong? he asked and this time his voice came out husky and strained.  

Sakura’s face darkened and she averted her gaze. Meanwhile, Sasuke was filled with dread. He could feel his own face flush, his heart drumming.

This must be too much for her. It was too fast, too soon. She must still be afraid of him and he jumped to the wrong, hopeful conclusion…

But when she said her feelings haven’t changed… that means she still loves me… right?

Then what’s the problem?

“Did you know this would happen when you brought me along?” Sakura asked in a very small voice.

The gears began turning slowly in Sasuke’s head. His bedmate being utterly breathtaking right now, with her ruffled hair, rosy skin and full, kissable lips, was not helping the matter.

“I didn’t know what would happen when I brought you,” he replied honestly.

“O-okay,” Sakura said, a miniscule quirk of a smile gracing her lips. She still wasn’t meeting his gaze. “I was just afraid that maybe… maybe this was the real reason…”

“The real reason?” Sasuke prompted and raising a questioning eyebrow at the girl in his lap.

“That… maybe the real reason is just this. Just physical,” she tried while daringly glancing up and motioning between the two of them with her finger.

Maybe the… oh.

Something in his mind clicked. “No,” he said firmly, his heartrate quelling slightly. “This isn’t just physical.”

Sakura’s heartrate, on the other hand, proceeded to skyrocket. What is it then? a part of her wondered but another part of her wanted this conversation to end. Because depending on where Sasuke’s train of thought was going, this conversation just might be ruining the manifestation of her lifelong fantasies.  

She bowed her head slightly and only noticed the hot tears collected in her tear ducts when one spilled out at the motion. How embarrassing…

But Sakura was pulled from her musings when Sasuke moved in to plant a soft, tentative kiss on her mouth, forcing her to tilt her head back up and face him. Her eyes widened.

Sasuke dipped his head and rested it on her shoulder while his arm snaked around her back. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing but his unease over Sakura’s visible unsettlement coaxed the words out of him. “Our feelings are connected,” he muttered, his breath tickling the side of Sakura’s neck.

Sakura startled. Does he mean…?

“You mean that… we feel the same way about each other,” she clarified, her stomach practically flipping.

“Yeah,” he whispered and kissing the tender pit of her neck. It sent pleasing tingles swimming through Sakura’s chest and legs.

But does he really know how I feel?

“How do you know that?” she breathed.

But instead of answering, Sasuke sat up, without removing his arm from its secure position around her, pressed his forehead against hers, and asked a question.

“Can I show you?”