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XXI
“Sakura is pregnant.”
Thunder clattered down, booming so loud in his ears that Sasuke was unsure if he’d heard Itachi correctly. His brother had always been a serious sort of person; emotions meticulously veiled, the picture of poise, propriety and power. Everything the Uchiha could ever want in an heir. Everything Sasuke had always fallen just short of achieving.
“Is it—?”
“Mine,” Itachi said shortly, keeping his eyes locked on the pond before them. Sasuke could remember, very keenly, standing here as a boy and learning to spit fireballs under his brother’s tutelage. He had so admired Itachi at that stage in life. Now, where fireballs once flew, rain poured. Endlessly, in waves, it poured, and Sasuke had never been one for poetry, but he thought that perhaps the gods were having a go at him.
Thunder boomed overhead, three short bursts of laughter from the heavens.
“Even if the child is yours,” Itachi said softly, “they will be mine. The clan will recognize them as my heir. The village will know them under my parentage.”
“And Sakura?” Sasuke argued.
Itachi faced him at last, his usually calm demeanour cracking under the weight of his frustration.
“Sakura is my wife,” he said plainly. “Sakura is my wife,” he said again, that calm mask sliding back into place. “I’m sorry, little brother, but you must leave.”
Sasuke let those words wash over him as the rain did. Itachi had known for some time now, he realized. Itachi had known since before he and Sakura were married, he supposed. His brother was always the genius between them.
“I understand,” Sasuke said at last.
He did understand. Sakura was not the docile, obedient wife the clan leaders wanted her to be, and with Sasuke around, her fire only burned hotter. He could only imagine her refusal to go along with this plan when faced with another choice. When faced with choosing Sasuke.
Itachi heaved a wearied sigh. “I am sorry, little brother,” he repeated, this time allowing his regret to colour his words. As quickly as the emotion came, it flitted away, and Itachi left Sasuke to stand alone in the rain.
If it were anyone else, Sasuke would have refused. But if there was one person he could trust to stay by Sakura’s side and cherish her as she deserved to be cherished, he could trust Itachi. Even if the envy swallowed him whole, he could know that Sakura was well cared for.
Sakura and her baby. Sakura and his baby.
He never did say goodbye.
XII
The worst genin team in the history of genin teams, to be sure. His big brother never had to deal with this sort of nonsense, and Sasuke could not understand why he did. He would just have to train harder, study more, and be the best. Then, everyone would see that he was just like Itachi—no; he was better than Itachi.
Until that happened, though…
It was bad enough that he was stuck with the Hokage’s son—everyone was always going on about “Musuko-sama” this, and “Musuko-sama” that, as if being the Hokage’s son was some great achievement—but then there was that civilian girl. She was a constant thorn in Sasuke’s side. He never did understand what possessed civilians to enter into the academy, but this girl was worse than most.
She spent more time preening than practicing, and she seemed to only come to class for the sole purpose of getting on his last nerve. And, of course, she was his teammate. At least she wasn’t as knuckleheaded as Naruto, but the crazed squealing and doting was just as bad, if not worse.
A civilian with low chakra reserves, no outstanding jutsu, a complete lack of self-discipline, and seemingly no interest whatsoever in improving herself as a shinobi. Naruto may have been useless, but at least he tried.
And then she’d saved his life.
He could remember the sharp look in her green eyes as she looked over her shoulder at him. Maybe, given the chance, he would have been able to fend for himself, but it was the fearlessness that took him by surprise. The fierce loyalty that he had taken for weakness had saved his life.
“I’ll take care of this,” she vowed. And so she had.
Sasuke blearily watched her; a blur of pink hair, red blood, and those fierce, green eyes as she took care of her teammates. He couldn’t put his finger on when she’d stopped being a simpering child and become a kunoichi of the Hidden Leaf, but he could see it now. He almost felt impressed.
As her teammate, he felt proud. As an Uchiha, he felt dismayed by his own failure. Itachi would never have needed a civilian to step in on his behalf. Itachi would have passed this exam with flying colours. Itachi had passed this exam with flying colours.
And then she’d rushed to his side, eyes wide with concern and lip trembling. “A-are you okay, Sasuke-kun?” she asked, her voice wavering around unshed tears.
“I’m fine,” he spat. “Next time, don’t get in my way.”
He threw Naruto over his shoulder and continued on, not checking to see if she was following behind.
XXI
Sasuke’s eyes opened wide to face two sharp yellow eyes staring back at him. He sighed and let his eyelids droop closed once more.
“What is it, Garuda?” he mumbled. It had been weeks since he’d last slept through the night. Garuda trilled, snapping his beak at Sasuke impatiently, but Sasuke remained laid in the dirt, eyes closed, and hoping that the universe would take pity on him at long last.
Garuda had other plans. Apparently, Sasuke had tried his patience for too long, and those impatient snaps escalated into a hard peck at Sasuke’s nose.
He jumped up into a seated position with a loud yelp. Garuda rustled his feathers in pride, perched atop Sasuke’s knees with a decidedly proud look on his sharp face. “If I had anyone else, I would dissolve this contract,” he grumbled. Garuda merely flapped his wings in what looked suspiciously like a shrug.
He allowed Sasuke a few human minutes, in which Sasuke sighed and quietly lamented the lonely existence he would have to endure for the rest of his life. Just him, his summons, and his unfortunately keen memories. He could almost smell blood hitting grass, and the sweet scent of Sakura’s shampoo as she fought tooth and nail for her teammates’ lives. It had been nine years ago, but in his dreams it felt like mere seconds had passed.
He was certain that he would never forget her. She was entwined so intricately into his life, he could hardly recall anything without her being there, warm and inviting, always happy to see him. Even when he annoyed or angered her—which was often—she always made him feel wanted. Appreciated. Loved.
As much as he wanted to sleep, it was almost more tortuous than being awake. At least in consciousness, he had a say. He could stop his mind from meandering into thoughts of her; stop himself from dwelling on what could have been, if only he had not been so proud. If only he had been born first.
In his dreams, every possibility became a reality. She was his, and he was hers, they had their life, their home, their child. But the dream always ended, and every time he opened his eyes, he could see the world for how it truly was. Every time he opened his eyes, he lost her all over again.
“I should have had you pluck these eyes out of my head before they ever saw her,” Sasuke sighed. Garuda cooed as softly as he could, bumping his head against Sasuke’s, and together they continued pushing on through the greenery of the Fire country, further and further away from the woman he loved.
XV
It didn’t take long for Team 7 to become one of the most revered teams in Konoha, despite their rough beginnings. Each trained under the tutelage of a Sannin, each excelling and nearly surpassing their masters. In Sasuke’s case, he had the heralded Sharingan on his side, and at fifteen, he was already popping up in the Bingo Books.
Naruto wasn’t far behind, but with his knuckleheaded reputation, he always seemed to fall under the radar of being truly dangerous. Sasuke supposed that was to his benefit and to the detriment of every enemy, because Naruto was truly fearsome. He was also a bonehead, but his strength could not be denied.
Along the way, between an Uchiha and a jinchuuriki, Sakura had been overshadowed. A shame, because when no one could hear him, Sasuke could quietly admit that she had improved more than either of them, and she was not finished just yet. She always had been the brightest, but that seemed to go unnoticed when compared to raw, natural talent, and inconceivable strength.
But behind the lines, there she was. She was forcing change within the village without even trying. Her presence was so imposing that people could not help but listen to her. Her brilliance was so dazzling that people could not help but believe every word she said. Medic-nin were plentiful and no longer a burden within a team. With Sakura and the legendary Tsunade at the helm, Konoha’s view of medics in the shinobi world was shifting drastically.
And then there were the whispers of her beauty. She had been an awkward thing to begin with, and Sasuke had never cared much for girls, or deciding whether or not he thought they were cute. He was mainly focused on surpassing Itachi. Still, even he could not tune out the ripples moving through the village about Haruno Sakura, medical expert, the apprentice of the great Senju Tsunade, and a rare beauty.
At fifteen, he was a little more susceptible to things like girls, and feminine wiles, and the like. Naruto was halfway in love with her—always had been—and now, Sasuke could sort of see why. There was something there, he supposed. It filled him with pride to be her teammate. He found himself smiling when people praised her, and scowling when they criticized.
Those days, criticism was rare. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it, but right before his eyes, she’d gone from a simpering little girl, to a mighty kunoichi. Not just any kunoichi but his kunoichi—Team 7’s kunoichi. More often than not, that was how Sakura was seen.
He was ashamed to admit that he kind of liked it that way.
XXII
Snakes, cats and hawks made for excellent spies. They did not, however, make for excellent messengers.
Garuda didn’t speak so much as ruffle his feathers condescendingly. His fleet of cats were loyal to the Uchiha, and seeing as Sasuke was an exiled Uchiha, they tended to lean more towards the main family’s interests—i.e. Itachi’s interests, so no good there. Aoda was useful, but too arrogant to give Sasuke a straight answer.
“Did you see her?” he asked the glowing pair of green eyes as they swayed gently on the opposite side of his modest campfire.
“Yessss,” Aoda answered lazily. “She looks like a blimp.”
Still pregnant, then. Sasuke knew in his heart that she would be horrifically offended by that comparison and it brought a smile to his face to think of the indignation and fury that would have welled up in her should she have heard it firsthand.
“Any other non-insulting things to note?” Sasuke asked pointedly.
“Such as?”
Sasuke glared at the snake. “Was she happy?”
“Humans are sssso fickle. She’s alive,” Aoda offered unhelpfully.
“Perhaps I should go see her for myself,” Sasuke mused with a sigh.
“Ah, ex-sss-ellent idea. Itachi would love the opportunity to snuff you out.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Sasuke dismissed, though he wasn’t sure that was the truth. Aoda didn’t look convinced either.
Itachi was many things, but proud wasn’t one of them. Nearly a year away from Konoha—away from Sakura—and Sasuke was beginning to reach his limit. Sleepless nights, fitful catnaps, and unpleasant daydreams plagued him constantly. His summons gave him no reason to believe Sakura was unwell, and his own logic assured him she was well cared for, but nothing would put his mind at ease.
Just one look. One more glance at the woman he loved, and the child she bore—his child, he was certain of it—and he would put this to rest. He would let her live her life out peacefully, without his dark presence, without a massive secret looming over her, threatening her way of life.
“He wouldn’t do that,” Sasuke whispered to himself once more before drifting off into unconsciousness, Aoda’s glowing green eyes shifting into the sparkling emerald eyes that had enraptured him so.
XVIII
The marrying of a clan heir was a funny thing, especially when it came to kekkei genkai. Generally, clan leaders were pretty snooty about who they deemed worthy enough for their precious clan head. They tended to prefer noble clan members with strong political ties and/or illustrious careers in the shinobi world. With, f course, no kekkei genkai to interfere with the Sharingan.
Sasuke wasn’t sure why he was so surprised that Sakura’s name came up in the mix for Itachi. Maybe because she was civilian-born. Maybe because, for his entire childhood, he’d seen her as little more than a nuisance. Maybe because it was absolutely inconceivable that his older brother would marry his teammate. His friend.
She was his friend. It was possessiveness over her friendship that had vicious envy twisting in his chest. At least, that’s what he told himself to sleep at night.
Why Sakura?
Nothing was set in stone. Anything but, really. It was all very up in the air, but just knowing she was a prospect—just knowing that the clan leaders had their beady eyes on her was enough to send him spiralling. Surely, Itachi would protest. She was only eighteen and Itachi was twenty-four. Of course, the courtship, proposal and wedding would take time to arrange…
Itachi would protest, Sasuke told himself again, more firmly.
Except, as time went on, the clan leaders seemed more and more keen on Haruno Sakura to wed the clan heir. Sasuke had to stop from literally kicking himself. He should have seen it coming. All the doujutsu in the world, and he couldn’t see that she was the blueprint of a clan head’s wife.
She wasn’t born into a noble clan, that was true; but she was a heralded war hero at sixteen, a beloved student and practical daughter to the Godaime Hokage, and a good friend to supposed future Hokages. Not to mention, she was beautiful.
At least, that’s what the people of Konoha thought. Sasuke didn’t care one way or another, and he would never see her that way, because they were friends, but sure, objectively, she was beautiful. Her hair was shiny and always smelled nice. Her skin blushed as pink as that hair, and her eyes were somehow the exact colour of springtime.
But that was neither here nor there.
“They want me to marry Sakura,” Itachi confided in him after a particularly long clan meeting. Sasuke knew they would.
“Good luck getting her to agree to that,” Sasuke said with a scoff and just a hint of desperation. At this rate, his only hope was Sakura’s penchant for being entirely uncooperative.
“She already has,” Itachi said softly. “I won’t go through with it, if that’s what you want.”
Sasuke felt his heart drop down into the depths of his stomach. She had agreed. He couldn’t understand why. Itachi’s gaze was fixed resolutely on the distant horizon, but Sasuke saw no trace of contempt or judgement in his profile. Only quiet understanding. Itachi seemed to always be quietly understanding of everything around him.
His brother was patient, brilliant, and good. Perhaps Sakura had seen that, too.
“I don’t care who she marries,” Sasuke said coolly, fixing his eyes on the horizon and telling himself that he had no reason to care, but finding that no amount of self-soothing thoughts could take the sting out of his chest.
XXII
It had been nearly a year since his expulsion from Konoha but the path home was still familiar. It was second nature, navigating the forests of Fire to the gates of the village that had once been his one and only home. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until it came into view.
He wasn’t foolish enough to walk through the main gates. Itachi would be made aware all too quickly, and he would never get the chance to steal a glimpse of Sakura.
His heart pounded with the thought of her. She was so close; he could taste her on the tip of his tongue. If he allowed himself to sink into one of his more indulgent fantasies, he could feel her dewy lips softly pressing against his. But there was no time for indulgent daydreams today.
He ran the village perimeter, around the western wall toward the Uchiha compound. Itachi and Sakura had moved into their own home, slightly off the beaten path, at the edge of the compound where they would be able to enjoy each other with some privacy. That privacy had been rather useful when it was Sasuke seeking her out, but the thought of Itachi and Sakura together never failed to turn his stomach.
He had no one to blame but himself, but it was too late to lament on opportunities missed. He had no way to change the past. All he could do now was watch from a distance, and hope her heart was not nearly as broken as his.
Her eyes were still dazzlingly green. Too green, too bright, too enchanting. She took his breath away.
She wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. He imagined it would have been impossible to, with the way she was waddling around the back porch, one hand gently cradling her round belly. She was beautiful. He had hoped seeing her pregnant and well into her life with Itachi would make staying away easier, but all it did was remind him that this was his life to have.
They wouldn’t have had this secluded house—that was reserved for the clan head—but that gold band on her left hand, and the sweet smile as she cooed softly to their unborn child; that was his. And he’d given it all up for pride.
His plan had been to see her discreetly, and take his leave. Instead, he sat far out on the boughs of some towering tree, and watched her until the sun began to set. Itachi returned home and pressed a kiss to her cheek in greeting, and Sasuke couldn’t help but notice that her cheeks were slightly less pink than they had been whenever he kissed her.
XX
“I love you,” he blurted out to Sakura’s absolute horror and mortification.
“Get out,” she hissed.
“I love you,” he repeated, slightly less frantic than the first time.
“Are you drunk? Get out,” she said again, her eyes darting to her bedroom door as she clutched her robe tightly and made her way to him, standing precariously on her windowsill.
“I’m not drunk,” he assured her.
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” she reminded him, her voice cracking and eyebrows knitting. “To your brother.”
“Don’t marry him,” Sasuke begged.
“It’s too late for that,” she sighed, shaking her head and walking away from him.
“It’s not. Marry me instead,” he proposed, stepping off the ledge and fully into her bedroom.
“Why are you doing this now?” she asked quietly. When she turned her face to him again, the moonlight glinted on her cheek. It was wet.
“I’ve been a fool,” he admitted. “I should never have let you get this far.”
“I gave Itachi my word. I can’t go back on that.”
She was right, and they both knew it. Even if she didn’t go through with the wedding, the Uchiha would be so disgraced, that they would never allow her to marry another cherished son.
“Please go, Sasuke-kun,” she said with a quiet sniffle.
He left, just as she asked, but he would return again. And again, and again, until what lay between them became undeniable and irresistible. Until she became his in whatever small way she could.
XXII
He had heard Sakura cry in so many different ways; the tears and snivels of the young girl who had grated his nerves so. The battle cry of a girl discovering her strength and inflicting it on the masses. The desperate, heart wrenching cry of a woman who feared the loss of her best friends, and then the relieved sob when she (brilliantly) saved their lives. The shouts of anger and annoyance, the slinging insults, the declarations of love. Soft cries into the night as they made love.
The loud, pained cry, followed by a shrill, screeching baby. His baby.
He caught one fleeting glimpse of a baby girl, black hair and a big mouth stretched around ear-shattering screams. He couldn’t stand to look any longer. It was too painful.
With his heart in his hands, he left Konoha once more, this time, certain that he would not return.
He always wondered, with all his strength, what would do him in. The truth was, he always doubted he would die fighting. How could anyone defeat Uchiha Sasuke in the field? They couldn’t. He hadn’t anticipated that he would meet his demise through his own pride.
When he lay beneath the stars after a week of wandering sleeplessly, he succumbed to his broken heart. He stared up at that bright moon, twinkling and radiant, staring until it turned springtime-green, until that green encompassed his vision and mind.
XXII
Sasuke opened his eyes to the sound of distant wailing. Then, much closer, a gravelly, unhappy grumble in his ear.
“I got it,” they rasped. Sasuke felt a chill go down his spine and turned his head quickly, blinking his eyes into the darkness until he could make sense of what he was hearing.
“Sakura,” he breathed out. She grunted in response.
“I guess it’s my fault she’s so loud,” Sakura said with a sigh-turned-yawn. “She definitely didn’t get that from you.”
She didn’t get that from you. Sasuke tuned back into the wailing, disbelief coursing through his veins. A baby.
“I’ll get her,” he choked out. Sakura paused, halfway out of the blankets, considering. She glanced over her shoulder at him before shrugging and tucking herself back into bed.
Sasuke couldn’t count the amount of times he stubbed his toes, blindly following the sound of a baby crying through a house he didn’t remember. When he stumbled upon her, screaming relentlessly in her crib, he could have sworn the floor disappeared beneath his feet.
He barely made it to her bedside, collapsing onto the edge of her crib as he leaned down to scoop her up.
“Sarada,” he whispered, the name somehow coming to him. Sarada—his daughter—hiccupped as her sobs subsided. She lifted a tiny dimpled hand to his face, giggling as she slapped his chin lightly. He watched as his own tear dropped heavily onto her forehead. It startled her, but she didn’t resume her crying.
Sasuke wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there, rocking Sarada gently until she fell asleep in his arms, but it was evidently enough time to alarm Sakura.
“Aren’t you coming to bed?” she whispered, wrapped herself around him in a tight hug from the back. “I missed you,” she said with a pout.
“I missed you, too,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
Her smile was sweet, but a little confused. Still, she helped him place Sarada back in her crib and led him back to their bedroom, where he could see two matching gold rings sat atop the wardrobe, just below a wedding photo he’d seen a thousand times. This time, though, it was his own face beside Sakura’s. This time, he’d made all the right decisions.
When he woke in the morning, it was to sunshine, a giggling baby and those sparkling, green eyes he loved so much.