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12
A familiar face is waiting for him once he turns the curve, so he doesn’t.
“You don’t even have chemistry with Sasuke-kun,” whines the petulant voice he recognizes as Yamanaka’s. Sasuke looks around to see if he’s already in 23rd street that holds her family’s shop. He is.
“Of course we don’t have chemistry,” brags his female teammate who’s most likely sitting on the flower shop’s stools. She spits out the word chemistry like it’s a curse. Sasuke hangs his head at the inconvenience of having to hide from twelve year-old children. “We have something better.”
“What, pray tell, is that?” He can almost imagine Yamanaka leaning closer to her friend? Rival?
“We don’t need chemistry,” a scoff. “Because we have gravity.”
“Don’t make me laugh, nerd. What’s that supposed to do?”
“Gravity,” Sakura says in that know-it-all tone of hers, “is defined as two objects drawing each other in.”
Sakura’s too smart to be wasting her time on calculating the gravitational force of interpersonal relationships, in his opinion. “So naturally, he’s destined to go back to me. Or end up with me. However you want to phrase it, pig. We don’t need chemistry when we have that.”
He hides a snort and walks away from a potential headache. Sakura must have finished writing her part of the mission report, since she has time to brag about the scientific explanation behind their connection, or whatever it is she’s bragging about.
19
Sasuke always thought medics were supposed to be spit clean and uptight about their space. Sakura’s office is a mess of varying proportions. He doesn’t know if she’ll appreciate him tidying up the documents scattered in piles and piles, so he just props himself by her window and watches the blue sky outside. She’s humming when she opens the door. A nonsensical tune he’s heard play in the shops and streets. Her voice is low when she sings, unlike the high, melodic tune she talks with. She cringes once she sees him.
“Sorry.” She walks to the stack lumped carelessly on the seat by her desk. She removes it and dumps it on the floor. “Sit here.”
“I’m fine.” He likes the afternoon breeze, the time when it’s hottest out.
She shrugs and takes the seat herself. She smiles at him - pink lips painted red, frustratingly well-shaped - the way she always does: small, hopeful, gentle, patient. How she can portray all that with a slight pull of her lips on both sides is a mystery to him, but Sakura brings more comfort - constants - than she does confusion.
“I need you to sign this.” He hands her the slip with the usual regalia of the Rokudaime’s office.
She reaches to take it, her bangles dangling on her wrists and her undiscarded lab coat stretching across her back as she leans forward in her seat. “A clearance form,” she says, reading the words on the paper. “Traveling?”
He grunts in affirmation.
She nods. “Okay.”
He stares at her head-on, almost aggressive, as if challenging her to stop him, trying to ignore the shame bubbling up his chest. It’s not her place to say anything - her ready acceptance is proof enough of that - but he gauges her reaction anyway, pulls it close and tucks it away to reexamine for later. She fishes for her stamp on her table, slapping her hand down like a mindless octopus hoping to find it. She does, mysteriously, and she ‘aha’s in triumph.
“There you go.” She gives it back. “You be safe out there, okay?”
He hums shortly.
“Okay,” she whispers. Her eyes betray her. A shinobi of Sakura’s calibre, and he can still read exactly what’s running through her mind.
“Sakura.”
She perks up. “Yes?”
Sasuke shakes his head.
“You’ll come back, Sasuke-kun?”
Sasuke lets out a breath as he moves to leave. The smell of antiseptic clinging to the walls is awful. “Yes.”
“I -” she pauses. In his newfound state, he realizes he isn’t comfortable with her being this hesitant. It is misplaced in someone as esteemed as she is. Sakura in his genin cell was always forthright with her abilities, insightful to a fascinating degree, even if she was slightly obnoxious. It’s mostly his shortcoming, he knows. Their fumbling communication is a baby starting to walk on wobbly legs, both parties uncertain as to where they stand in each other’s lives.
He is resolute to correct his wrongs. “You said it before.”
“Said what before?”
Sasuke wants to end the entire conversation, head rushing in a way that makes him clench his fists hidden in the pockets of his pants. It’s stupid. The prodding look Sakura gives him is enough to make his mouth move. He feels his ears go hot. “There’s a pull. Gravity. You said it before.”
“So naturally, he’s destined to go back to me.”
He watches her puzzlement quickly turn to recognition and her recognition quickly turn to embarrassment as he closes the door.