Chapter Text
“Sasuke-san? Is this really the way to your apartment?” asked Sakura with a hesitant expression, gazing around the footpath lined by towering trees.
Sasuke, walking ahead of her, simply snorted without answering and continued forward. They were only 400 meters from a bridge and a tunnel beneath the railway—then the back gate of his apartment—but Sakura looked increasingly afraid. Who knew what was on her mind: maybe she thought Sasuke intended to kidnap or kill her. He didn’t care.
After ten more steps, the sound of her footsteps behind him suddenly stopped. Sasuke reluctantly paused and glanced back.
“Sakura?”
She stood frozen, stiff with fear. Sensing something was wrong, Sasuke hurried to her side.
“What’s wrong?”
He gently touched her shoulder, trying to snap her out of her panic. Instead, Sakura shrank further away, terror etched on her face. Her eyes were fixed upward—toward the leafy canopy overhead.
Sasuke frowned in annoyance at her retreating posture. He grasped her arm firmly, keeping her by his side, and followed her gaze.
“Sasuke-san, what is that?”
He narrowed his eyes and finally understood what was frightening her. A cluster of long-tailed lizards with tiny legs hung in the tree—shaped in such a way that they looked like snakes coiled among the branches. No wonder she was terrified.
“They’re lizards.”
He had been startled too when he first walked this path. But his curiosity—and quick thinking—led him to toss a stone at them; one fell to the ground. When he approached, he realized they were lizards, not snakes—unusual ones, at that.
“Really? Why do they look so much like snakes?”
Sasuke clicked his tongue in irritation. He glared at Sakura as she pointed at every single one of the creatures. There were many of them, and as far as he remembered, they always appeared each summer, clustering in the trees.
“Questioning me?” he asked sharply, his tone a warning to make her stop.
Sakura instantly fell silent. Sasuke grabbed her hand to pull her along. But after only five minutes of silence, she began chattering again.
“Why do you always come this way? What if there were real snakes? Oh my gosh. There’s a river here too! Shouldn’t that scare you even more? What if there are crocodiles?”
Sasuke groaned and tugged her hand harder to hurry them along.
“There are no crocodiles, Sakura.”
Sakura shrugged. “Who knows? Better safe than sorry, Sasuke‑san. Danger never announces itself.”
He sighed and glanced at her as she continued scanning their surroundings. Only 150 meters remained until the back gate. If they didn’t hurry, they’d likely get wet—the sky had darkened, and the air was growing humid.
“Sasuke‑san, did you bring a raincoat? It looks like it’s going to rain,” Sakura said, looking up.
Sasuke nearly groaned in frustration. Did she think he was stupid?
“I know!”
She fell silent for a moment.
“…”
Seeing her quietness, Sasuke suddenly felt guilty.
“What’s wrong with reminding? It’s nothing serious, Sasuke. But you always look so tense—like that old man who lived by Madam Chio’s house. You know? He died early because he was angry all the time.”
He narrowed his eyes, and the pang of guilt vanished. This Haruno girl seemed oblivious to social boundaries. On top of being overly friendly and familiar, she had to be overly philosophical too.
He stopped and turned to her, pinching her quiet lips shut. His life had always been filled with silence, and Sakura Haruno’s incessant chatter was like a bomb he constantly had to avoid—one that could detonate his stability or something inside him.
A barrier.
And he wouldn’t let that happen.
“Are you wishing I’d die early?”
Sakura looked panicked. “That’s not it.”
She appeared sad and quieted. Seeing her pause, Sasuke again took her hand and began pulling her forward more briskly—they shouldn’t delay. A light drizzle had begun to fall.
This Sakura was disastrous. Not only did she try to encroach on his space, she also disrupted his peace.
“You’ll only recognize the beauty around you if you take things a bit more calmly. Learn to enjoy life.”
Her soft voice came from behind—so faint he almost missed it. His ears were tuned to small sounds, like the rats near his apartment, so he heard her clearly. Her words stirred something angry inside him.
Tightly eyeing the path ahead, Sasuke whispered bitterly, “People like you, who’ve never had to beg for food, will never understand.”
No reply came from behind, and he snorted, choosing to stew in silence rather than further raise his blood pressure.
“Sasuke‑san. I’ve been through it all.”
His steps stopped instantly. Silence fell before he faced her.
He found Sakura wiping tears from her face with her sleeve. His first instinct was panic.
He released her hand and knelt to gently wipe away her tears.
He was never used to people crying. Sympathy was foreign to him. Everyone around him was hypocritical. Yet, in the presence of Sakura—overfriendly, overly compassionate—he couldn’t turn away.
“I’ve gone hungry with no money. I almost died living on breadcrumbs for a week. Madam Chio… she found me. She helped me. She gave me work. So don’t say I don’t know what that’s like. I told you that because I lived through it.”
Her voice trembled with emotion, perhaps touched by the memory, but what stood out were the honest eyes she looked at him with.
Sasuke cleared his throat, guilt softening his gaze. But to his surprise, Sakura didn’t look grateful—she looked angry.
“Don’t pity me. We don’t deserve pity. Our lives are tests from God. If we keep trying, we’ll find a way,” she said, gently stroking his arm.
He frowned deeply. This girl… what was she made of?
Wasn’t he the one who needed comfort? Why was she comforting him instead?
He sighed. “What’s gotten into you?”
Sakura sniffled; her tears had slowed.
“I know how it feels, Sasuke.”
He exhaled softly, stood, and finally shed his pride. He offered her a loose hug—careful not to get too close physically.
“Sasuke‑san?”
After a couple of minutes of their quiet embrace, Sakura’s voice broke through his reverie—and what she said next truly annoyed him.
“What are you doing?”
He withdrew, face clouded. With a sharp glare, he poked her gently on the forehead.
“Use your brain a little better,” he said coldly before turning and continuing toward the apartment.
Sakura, unfazed, followed along with her mouth once again silent.
He’d grown accustomed to her chatter, and now that it had fallen quiet for five minutes, it felt empty. He was too proud to admit it—even to himself.
“Why so quiet?”
He gave up resisting. Whether she chatted or was silent, head pain would persist.
“Because… I don’t want to make you angry,” Sakura replied after a thoughtful pause.
Sasuke clicked his tongue. “Use that mouth for something useful. Aren’t you thankful God gave you one?”
Sakura flushed, then reverted to her usual chatter—talking about Madam Chio’s flower shop celebrating its fiftieth anniversary next week and her plan for matching her white cat Amaterasu with Kitten.
Sasuke found himself listening to every word—though he hadn’t realized it at first.
He didn’t notice when her presence became comforting.
He didn’t see when her laughter stopped feeling like noise.
He didn’t realize that he had begun expecting her beside him as they made their way home.