#ssm17d2

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.

--x--

When a girl with wide, innocent eyes stepped in front of a deadly opponent with nothing but a poorly grasped kunai, Sasuke’s brain told him it was only a matter of time.

His feet apparently responded to different sort of logic, and he found himself acting as a human shield for his terrified female teammate before his brain had finished its smug, “I told you so.”

Luckily Kakashi had intervened, but later, when the threat of danger was no longer imminent, Sasuke had to wonder about his actions. Why was he so willing to throw his life away for a meaningless girl? He had goals to achieve. Threats to eliminate. Family to avenge. Offering himself up as a pincushion would bring about none of the things he strove for.

So why? Why?

Sasuke found sleep more elusive than it usually was for the duration of the mission. He wasted nights he should have been resting weighing the restless souls of his clan against the bright life of his teammate. Perhaps that--the fact that she still had a future ahead of her--was the reason he intervened. But was it forgivable to put the needs of an outsider above the needs of his family--even if they were dead?

When, no more than a few days later, Sasuke found himself protecting Naruto from sure death, he was annoyed, yes. Annoyed, but also a little relieved.

His apparent death wish wasn’t reserved only for Sakura but also for his teammates. Sasuke had been reporting to Kakashi for less than a month, and already his first lesson repeated like a mantra in his head: those who don’t take care of their comrades are lower than trash.

Not that, Sasuke told himself, he particularly cared what Kakashi thought. He needed the Jonin’s jutsu expertise--not his life advice. Still, the man was a legend. Not as legendary as the man he wanted to kill, but legendary enough that Sasuke could forgive himself for letting Kakashi’s words take root in his subconscious so quickly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sasuke observed Sakura as she walked in a subdued manner beside him. Although the tear tracks staining her cheeks were no longer, her eyes were bright red and puffy. That was because of him. When she had thought he was dead, she had cried for him. Not dainty, fake tears. Messy, snotty, heartbroken tears. For him.

And even though it wasn’t useful, even though it broke shinobi rule #25, and even though he normally found her attention grating to an extreme level, somewhere a lot less deep than he wanted it to be, Sasuke was touched. It felt..nice to have someone care about you. To know someone would have his back and care about his well-being.

Sasuke looked at Sakura for a second longer before glancing at Naruto. The barest of grins fell into place. If this was what teammates were, Kakashi’s rule might make sense. And, therefore, so did his actions.

She was a person worthy of his protection. A fellow nin. A comrade.

And nothing more.

--x--

When his female teammate stood in front of him covered in an alarming numbers of bruises and scratches and swollen bits, Sasuke Uchiha never meant to act with anything but indifference.

Injuries were a constant companion of every ninja that ever was and ever would be.

So why was he burning with rage instead? The last time Sasuke could remember being this furious was the day he swore to himself he would avenge his clan’s death with his brother’s head on a pike. He could barely look at her without wanting to burn the whole fucking forest down.

On Naruto the deep wounds decorating her arms would be battle scars. Although Sasuke personally felt walking away from a fight unscathed was a stronger testament to a ninja’s adroitness than a brocade of scars, there was no denying that they were evidence of survival. After all, no one picked a fight with Ibiki on a whim.

Sakura, though--Sakura’s skin was supposed to stay unstained. She had chosen to place herself on the front lines, true. Just like him, just like Naruto, and just like every other Leaf nin. She was Sasuke’s sister in arms, technically. A back to place against his when the kunai were dense and escape routes were few.

But Sasuke saw the soft in Sakura all too easily.

There was affection in her eyes as she groused at Naruto and a playful tilt on her lips as she scolded Kakashi for his choices in literature. He knew that she adored sunrises and sunsets and butterflies and fireflies. She would rather be curled up in a patch of sunlight reading a book on genjutsu than training with her weaponry, but Sasuke had noticed the calluses that slowly grew on her hands.

It seemed, slowly but surely, Sakura was evening out the number of hair products and weapons she owned. Her bravery was matched equally with her fear. Labeling her the ‘weak link’ of the team would be easy--Sasuke had thought the same thing at first--but the exact same characteristics that made her weak made her a crucial component of their team.

She was Sakura, and, somewhere along the way, she had snuck up in Sasuke’s ranks from ‘comrade’ to ‘precious person.’

Because Sasuke cared that Sakura felt confident and not dejected, and not just because her insecurities could be the downfall of their team. He knew it was naive to think so, but in the last couple of months he had convinced himself that he and Naruto could shield her from any harm. If they could just grow strong enough, move fast enough, learn enough jutsu, Sasuke would never have to hear her scream in fear again. Never.

Idiot.

It didn’t matter that she was just one person or that Sasuke was older; he could no better protect her than he could stop his brother from annihilating everyone he had loved.

She was a pink target. A fleeting ray of sunshine. A doomed precious person.

And nothing more.

--x--

When a worried friend placed herself between him and the path out of Konoha's smothering walls, Sasuke Uchiha had every intention of brushing her aside and never looking back.

Sakura was a weakness, but her liability didn’t stem from her overly-conditioned hair and practically empty repertoire of useful ninja techniques as he had initially assumed. Sakura was his weakness specifically. She was his siren’s call.

In retrospect, he should have figured it out sooner. Sasuke had tasted power, just the smallest nibble, before Sakura’s arms and voice drew him back too soon. Instead of begrudging the loss, though, he spent his time mourning the blemishes on his teammate’s once-porcelain skin. Weak, unfocused, pathetic.

The twine-like bonds she had laid on him as a teammate had already transformed into shackles, and Sasuke could bear nothing holding him back if he wanted to move forward.

He had it right in the first place; Sakura was a shiny bauble. A distraction. To hell with Kakashi and his lectures on teamwork. Throwing himself between Sakura and danger wasn’t admirable. It was folly. Pure and simple.

So when Sakura cried, unshielded and honest, loudly enough for any to overhear that she loved him, Sasuke told her how annoying he found her.

But he also told her thank you, because he hadn’t yet squashed the part of himself that responded to those pure eyes, hopeful lips, and honest heart. He laid her down because he couldn’t bear to throw her aside like nothing, and he did it gently because the thought of hurting her any more made his stomach turn.

“It’s because your heart is lacking...lacking in hatred.”

And it was. His actions of the past few months with Team 7, towards Sakura now, proved that. But no longer.

She was a temptation. A moment’s weakness. A comfort.

And nothing more.

--x--

When a furious femme fatale  stormed the walls of Orochimaru’s crumbling hideout, Sasuke Uchiha hadn’t meant to call to her.

Striking Sakura down before she realized the threat would have been the more disciplined approach. It had been two and a half years since they had laid eyes on each other, though, and Sasuke was curious to see what he would find in those eyes. Were they still as unshielded and innocent as when he had left her behind?

Immediately Sasuke cursed his own weakness. He thought he had squashed the softness from his soul years ago. Yet not even a minute had passed in Sakura’s presence, and he was already seeking out her attentions--longing to see her look up at him in awe. Wanting to see her recognize how powerful he’d become without her to drag him down.

As he drew his sword to strike Naruto down, he told himself it was only her strength that captivated him now. He had heard the rumours, of course. Shutting out news of old teammates was hard when each member had landed themselves an apprenticeship from one of the legendary Sannin. So, yes, Sasuke had heard about Sakura in their time apart. Stories of a young medic already stepping out of her mentor’s shadow flitted about most villages. Already whispers of a pink-haired kunoichi who downed Sasori of the Red Sand could be heard in the shadows.

Reconciling the image of the trendy and polished girl he had left behind with the practically dressed young woman before him was difficult, though. Once painted nails were chipped and full of grime. Then enchanting, calculating green eyes narrowed beneath long, full eyelashes, and Sakura charged.

At that moment, Sasuke became certain that his fascination with the temptress before him was...professional.

She was a kunoichi. A fellow apprentice of a Sannin. A force to be reckoned with.

And nothing more.

--x--

When a Leaf kunoichi held a poisoned kunai in her hands and lies on her lips, Sasuke Uchiha felt the last fraying cord of his sanity snap.

There was not one thing, he was certain, not one single thing about Konoha that was worth saving. They thought they were so good and noble. Playing at being samurais in shining armor while war, death, disease, and famine sprung forth in their wake. How dare they preach morality from pedestals forged from his clan’s bones?

And it was all of them.

Not just the leaders or the politicians. Not just the Anbu and the elites. The Jonins and Chunins. The blacksmiths and doctors and civilians, too. Until this very second, he had considered the Genin and children an unfortunate casualty. He had only considered them guilty by associated with a tainted system, but now he knew that they too would rot from the inside out as time passed.

Of all the terrible things he had thought of Sakura, Sasuke had never considered her a deceiver. They stood on opposite sides, but he had expected her to approach him as openly as she always had. Yet here she stood with falsehoods forged to suit her own goals.

She was an enemy. A backstabber. A liar.

And nothing more.

--x--

When a Konoha colluder broke the horn off of a Goddess’s head with only her fist, Sasuke found he wasn’t the least bit surprised.

The moment Sakura jumped up onto the rock overhang with Naruto and him was the moment she came into her full power, and she had been turning heads ever since. Even the dobe, the one teammate who had been around to see her grow the most, had been shocked by the monstrous strength she suddenly channeled. It wasn’t that Sakura’s display left him unfazed. Instead, reunited on the ultimate battlefield, Sasuke felt a surge of pride for the mountain-leveling hellion before him.

They had separated once more soon after, but Sasuke saw the miniature versions of Katsuya attached to the cannon fodder nin of the Alliance. Saw shinobi up and fighting that should have already taken their final breaths.

Later, when Sasuke had felt Sakura falter under Madara’s gaze, he was almost hopeful she would let his ancestor focus on Naruto and him and stay out of sight. It proved to only be a moment’s hesitation, however, because Sakura shot past the both of them with the order to use her as a diversion.

Then she went and got herself impaled.

His heart seized when he saw the chakra rod holding Sakura aloft poking through the back of her flak jacket. She didn’t cry out, though; she just gritted her teeth and raised her fist to deliver a devastating blow. Of course, one of Madara’s shadows acted as an invisible shield, but the fact of the matter was she had tried to face down Sasuke’s ancestor--she had surprised Madara, even. After all, not many people still throw earth-shattering punches when they’ve been impaled.

As far as he knew, Sakura hadn’t spoken with the Sage of Six Paths. She hadn’t received any insights or gifts from one of the first chakra wielders. So, when Sasuke told her there was nothing she could do anymore, it was just because he wanted her to understand that, just like that time in the Forest of Death, she was facing opponents far above her pay-grade.

Sakura refused to back down, though. Madara’s murderous gaze made her falter but didn’t make her flee. Kaguya’s overwhelming reservoir of chakra made her wary but didn’t make her retreat. Had Sasuke not placed a genjutsu on her, she probably would have tried to interfere with Naruto and his fight, too.

Because, power ups or no, Sakura Haruno was one of them.

She was an elite. A Neo-sannin. An equal.

And nothing more.

--x--

When Tsunade’s successor crouched over his prone form and focused on knitting his mortal wound closed, Sasuke Uchiha wasn’t overwhelmed with relief at his survival.

He was overwhelmed with guilt.

Kami, how had he gotten everything so wrong and twisted up? Labeling Sakura--who she was to him, what she had accomplished--had become something a habit. As if summing up her existence in a few tidy words would make his feelings for her easier to contain.

Of course, it didn’t. Demeaning her and idolizing her had failed in equal measures. It had been like using explosive tags to try and defy gravity. Sasuke wrought plenty of wreckage in his wake, his fevered attempts at escape, but sooner or later physics became an inevitability.

And Sasuke was left to face the fact that he had spent his life hurting the person he loved the most.

The fact was that he had understood so very little. It had been a long time--ten years, to be precise--since Sasuke had allowed himself to love. Not lust for or admire, but love unabashedly and unfiltered in the way that Sakura had her whole life. So, for the first time, Sasuke was beginning that Sasuke loved every facet of her--not just this label or that description or that characteristic.

Because, the truth was, she was all of that. Annoying. A comrade. A precious person. A comfort. A force to be reckoned with. A liar. An equal. Sakura Haruno was all of those things, every single one and sometimes none of them at all, but still--still, she was…well.

His soulmate. His future. His second chance.