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“... and that, Hokage-sama, advisors, is why the shinobi of Konoha would benefit greatly from an extension to the hospital. For now, and for future ninja as they continue to bring prosperity to the village.”
With a short bow, Sakura finished her proposal, a bead of sweat at her temple evidence of the months of hard work she’d put into the speech. It was hard to look Tsunade in the eye; one glance at her Shishou’s amber gaze and the medic would know the fate of her efforts.
“I, for one, approve of the suggestion.”
That was from Tsunade. A vote of confidence from the Hokage was usually enough to pass muster, but in this case, her status as legendary medic and Sakura’s sensei made her vote so certain as to be worth passing over. Still, it sent a shiver of pride down Sakura’s spine to hear confirmation of her approval before the best and brightest Konoha had to offer.
“Yes,” that was Kakashi’s familiar drawl, “I think there’s something to be said for preventing any more of the youth going, mah… rogue, so to speak.”
Blunt, but that was to be expected from the jounin. Risking a glance to the left, Sakura had to fight to keep her expression schooled when Kakashi winked at her from over the pages of his latest novel. She knew him well enough to know that he hadn’t truly been reading it; and at his words, the combat-active jounin in the room began to nod knowingly to one another.
With the majority of jounins in favour, support snowballed to the clan heads and the science division, and whether or not Koharu and Homura truly ,there was little chance of them shutting down her proposal once their financiers and fighters had agreed on it.
Just like that, Konoha Hospital got its mental health department, and Sakura felt her professional dreams come true.
It was surprisingly hard to write the letter informing Sasuke of her promotion. They’d been exchanging notes with increasing frequency ever since Naruto and Hinata’s wedding, but when it came to writing of herself, she still worried that he’d find it a pain to read. So her letters mostly discussed what was happening in the village, interspersed with the short poems she sometimes penned to pass the time when she was forced to take a day off.
Her hesitation was silly - Sakura knew this, even as she scrunched yet another sheet of paper into the bin - because Sasuke had explicitly told her to write about herself, too. As explicit as he got, anyway, his mismatched gaze peering at her over the green tea he’d ordered them both before she sat down.
“Sakura,” he’d said, weary from the travel. “Your letters never say anything about you.”
She’d been guilty, even as elation wormed its way into her heart. They had rendezvous’d in a nameless village in Tea Country, Tsunade’s sharp orders to “check up on the brat” a thinly veiled attempt at giving her favourite medic a break. And for once, the kunoichi had jumped at it, meeting Sasuke on a brisk summer’s day that would sustain her good spirits for months.
Sakura had tried, since then, to include a short line or two about what she had been doing, whether it was outlining the initial attempt to establish her clinic or regaling him about her exploits on the rare missions she had outwith Konoha’s grounds. But this… the culmination of almost two years of preparation, an accomplishment almost as dear to her heart as saving the lives of her friends over and over… it was hard to put into black ink on a page.
Still, she managed. It wasn’t her best work nor even a letter worthy of much discussion, but when Sasuke’s hawk came to collect it Sakura felt as though her work was done. The next missive could return to finding new ways to make Naruto the butt of some witty joke, and she could enjoy her newfound work safe in the knowledge that everyone she loved was informed of it.
Pleased with herself, Sakura didn’t expect the reply to come barely a day later; Sasuke must have prevailed upon the services of the great Garuda to reach her so fast. Opening the simply-folded paper with curious fingers, she put a hand to her mouth in surprise, and the letter fluttered innocuously to land on her desk.
Congratulations , it read, folded quickly enough that the ink had smudged on the letter. I will return to Konoha to deliver mine in person.
And there, Sakura thought, cheeks colouring even as her assistants tried to peer over her books to see what she’d read, was her reward.
He arrived, as always, under the cover of night. And it never failed to amuse him that Sakura had a preternatural sense of the timing; an uncanny knowledge of when he arrived and departed from the village of their birth. As in his darker days, he could never hope to enter or leave Konoha without her knowing: the difference being that now he would not want to.
“Sasuke-kun,” she greeted him softly, her hands clasped behind her back as she gave him her famous smile.
The Uchiha inclined his head in reply, falling into step beside her as they walked. Though he’d only been able to return three times since his journey of redemption had begun, they had fallen into a comfortable routine of it, taking a short walk to the pond where he’d taught her the flames of katon before heading to either the Hokage tower or her house, depending on the hour. As they walked, he coaxed her into retelling the story of her proposal meeting, careful to express he was listening with murmured exclamations and an encouraging nod when she trailed off.
It wasn’t that he didn’t find interest in her words - he did, most definitely - only that Sasuke found it hard to elaborate on, and a frank conversation with Naruto after the other man’s wedding had impressed upon him the importance of showing Sakura that he cared.
“She knows, ya know?” Naruto had exclaimed, sputtering shochu in his amusement. “But I think like anyone, Sakura wants to hear it, too.”
That led to them walking close enough to link hands, Sakura chattering animatedly about long nights and intrepid forays into the depths of the archives, searching for an argument that was both sane and sound. Her work had paid off, and now the village was going to have a department dedicated to the welfare of its young ninja, ensuring that there wouldn’t be another Kakashi, or Sasuke, or Itachi. Yes: Sasuke thought it was just about the most important thing anyone had ever done for the people who lived within its walls. The only problem was how to say that, how to push past his taciturnity and tell Sakura what it meant to him as a survivor of the ills of neglected mental wellness.
When she skipped ahead of him a few steps, it came to him all of a sudden, bubbling past his lips before the Uchiha was able to second guess himself.
“Sakura,” he uttered, watching as she turned around to fix him with a bright green gaze. The rising moonlight framed her hair in silver halo, making her look, to him, like the angel he knew her to be. A figure of hope for lost and abandoned children, survivors of a war that went right into the mind.
“I’m proud of you.”
Then she smiled, and Sasuke felt as though he’d done something praiseworthy, instead.
It was easier to show his approval without words. And show her he did, once they had retreated to the quiet darkness of her home and Sakura had led them through to her living room without turning on the light.
This, too, was part of their fragile routine, hesitant kisses traded without words until they parted to sleep, Sasuke on the couch and Sakura in her childhood bed, taken down and reassembled in her small house’s bedroom.
They spoke for only a moment before he leaned her back into the soft cushions of her armchair, showing her with his lips what he was unable to with words: that he thought her the best kunoichi of their generation, a shining example of what to aim for for future generations. Sakura gasped into his mouth, a needy whimper that turned his kisses deeper.
“Sasuke-kun,” she managed, head falling to the side as his mouth left hers, trailing a whisper of praise down her neck.
“Hmm?” he replied, not pausing in his path. Her shirt left much of her collarbone exposed; though they hadn’t gone much further than that, he felt it utterly necessary to explore the naked skin with his teeth while she shivered under his touch.
“Will you sleep next to me tonight?”
It was an offer that tasted as dangerously good as her salty skin. To feel her in his arms, hold her tight as they slept and wake next to her in the morning; Sasuke was not immune to what it posed. And if it weren’t for her promotion, he wouldn’t have been tempted, in case it led to something they weren’t ready for yet.
But Sakura was asking as something of a reward: even he could understand that, socially awkward as he was. And so he gave in to it, gladly, settling beside her as she spoke of her next steps in the quest to get her clinic built.
He fell asleep like that, Sasuke realised, waking some time later next as Sakura sat upright in the bed, a document in her hand lit only with the green glow of her chakra.
“Ah, did I wake you, Sasuke-kun?” she asked, contrite. He wondered if she realised the feat it was to control her chakra so precisely she could use it as a waypoint; even moreso that it hadn’t roused his cautious Sharingan’s gaze.
“No,” he lied, placing his hand on her bare leg. “What are you looking at?”
“Well…” she passed him it instead of explaining, trusting the purple glow of the Rinnegan to reveal the paper’s secrets.
It made not a lick of sense even to his intelligent assessment; he knew she read it in the way he exhaled and passed the paper back to her, taking it as a cue to put them aside and lie back down beside him, close enough that their knees touched.
“Sorry, I’m just so excited about this whole thing… I’m not sure where to stop.”
“Here, for the night,” Sasuke replied, and her answering laugh warmed him from the inside out. “I will listen to more in the morning.”
With that promise, her laughter turned softer, dimming into a quiet smile that touched the corners of his worn and weary heart. It was impossible to resist - though he often waited for Sakura to kiss him first, this time Sasuke closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers in a chaste kiss that was no less affectionate for its simplicity.
“I’m sure you’ll regret the offer soon enough,” she whispered with tired amusement once they parted, green eyes giving in to the tempting pull of slumber.
Whether it was to her achievements or to her chatter, Sasuke was fairly sure he couldn’t get tired of listening to it; but Sakura was already asleep, and so he shifted to be closer to her, keeping that confidence to himself for a while longer.
I’ll wait another year, then, he considered, hand reaching out to touch her cheek, before I ask her to join me.
It wasn’t a delay that pained him. As much as the Uchiha would enjoy her company on his travels, he was reluctant to prise her away from the first steps of her own journey into the future. Sakura’s victory today, he thought as he succumbed to sleep, was simply the first of the proposals due to come her way.
He would wait, patiently, proudly: they both had more growing to do.