Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Flattening the last cardboard box with a satisfying crunch, Sakura tossed it into the corner of her small kitchen, where a neat pile of recycling was starting to take shape. She paused, lifting the hem of her shirt to swipe the sweat beading on her forehead, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. For a moment, she just stood there, the faint scent of cardboard and dust lingering in the air, her eyes admiring her new home.

Golden afternoon light that filtered gently through the pale curtains cast a warm, honeyed glow across the room, catching tiny motes of dust in a lazy, swirling dance. The walls were painted in a soft, neutral shade, creating a soothing backdrop for the belongings Sakura had carefully unpacked and arranged the past few hours. 

Though Sakura hadn’t brought many belongings with her, the few items she’d placed thoughtfully on the shelves managed to transform the space. Each knick-knack added a quiet charm, a whisper of home that softened the unfamiliar walls. Her beloved slug-shaped night lamp sat cozily on the shelf, casting a small but familiar glow over the picture frame beside it. The photo within held her most cherished faces—her family and her best friend, all beaming back at her in a moment frozen in time.

Her new apartment wasn’t very big, but it had all the amenities she wanted. Just to the left of the entrance was a compact washing machine. Beside it, the toilet and bathroom were tucked away, smelling faintly of fresh tile cleaner she’d just used to wipe them down. 

Across the short hallway that led to the front door was the kitchen, petite but efficient. She only had two stove burners, and the sink was so small that her hands brushed its sides when she washed dishes. The counter barely had enough room for her tiny chopping board, but she’d bought a drying rack that balanced over the sink, giving her just a little extra space. Above her head, two small cupboards held her essentials, and beneath the counter hummed a mini-fridge, stocked with the basics she’d bought on her way in.

The main room was where she would undoubtedly spend most of her time. It was almost completely bare, with only a modest closet tucked in the corner for her clothes and futon, a small shelf holding her few treasured items, a solitary light fixture casting a soft glow overhead, and curtains framing the window. Opening the window would grant her access to a modest, protruding area that she affectionately referred to as a ‘barely’ balcony, where she would hang her clothes to dry.

Admittedly, the area around the apartment didn’t have the best reputation, but it was only a short walk from a convenient store and a train station that would whisk her away to other parts of the city. In truth, she felt as though she must have exhausted all her luck of the year to find such an affordable place. Or perhaps the cutthroat housing market her hard-to-please mother warned her about was simply an exaggeration.

As Sakura absorbed the reality of her new living arrangement, a whirlwind of fear and exhilaration surged through her. This was the first time she would be alone in the big city, and the thought sent a thrill down her spine. Finally, she would have the privacy and freedom she had yearned for after years of living under the watchful gaze of her overbearing mother. It was exhilarating, a chance to carve out her own identity in the bustling chaos of urban life.

Yet, just as the triumphant feeling of new beginnings began to settle in, it was abruptly clouded by confusion. Without warning, the front door swung open with a creak that shattered the quiet. Sakura jumped—she could have sworn she had locked it, just as her best friend had advised her to do. So how had this stranger managed to unlock it and waltz into her apartment as if it were his own?

The newcomer was striking, perhaps no more than a year older than her, with black hair that framed his sharp features and dark eyes that mirrored his locks. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face as he took in the scene before him, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously at her, gauging her presence in what he must have assumed was an empty space.

“Who are you?” He demanded, his voice low and edged with a hint of defensiveness.

Sakura’s pulse quickened; her initial excitement now tangled with apprehension and indignation. How could he have the gall to look offended after casually breaking into her apartment?

“That’s my question,” she shot back, her heart racing. “How did you get in?”

With a flick of his wrist, the boy raised a key, nonchalantly dangling it between his fingers as if it were a mere trinket. “It’s my apartment,” he replied.

Sakura’s eyes widened in shock as she caught sight of the number ‘7’ engraved on the key’s bow. A cold wave of realization washed over her. Did she move into the wrong apartment? Panic fluttered in her chest, and she glanced around, trying to make sense of the situation. If that was the case then how had she even opened the door in the first place?

Feeling a knot tighten in her stomach, she fished the key from her pocket that the landlord’s assistant had given her. As she pulled it out, the same number ‘7’ stared back at her, mocking her confusion.

“Wait,” she stammered, her gaze darting between the boy and her key. “How did you get that key?” 

“As I said, this is my apartment,” he replied curtly, his tone sharp and dismissive, igniting an ember of irritation in Sakura’s chest.

“That’s ridiculous; the landlord must have given you the wrong key!” She huffed, frustration boiling over as her cheeks flushed.

The boy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest, a challenge radiating from him. “Then why don’t you call and tell him that?”

Eager to prove him wrong, Sakura swiftly retrieved her phone from her pocket, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed the number the landlord’s assistant had given her. She pressed the phone to her ear, the familiar tone ringing in her head as her heart raced with anxiety. Despite never having met the landlord in person, she recognized his gruff voice immediately when he answered. 

“Hello?” His tone was curt, devoid of any hint of warmth.

She thought that the man would take her side; both of them separately did, actually. But even before she finished explaining the problem, the man’s mockery undertone quickly waned any optimism Sakura held before. 

It turned out that nowhere in the contract they had signed was it specified that the apartment was intended for a single occupant. The realization made her stomach churn. Both she and the boy had been so eager to secure a place of their own, swept away by the intoxicating thrill of newfound independence, that they had neglected to thoroughly read the fine print warning them of this very scenario.

The landlord made it clear that if they were dissatisfied with the arrangement, both of them were free to leave, fully recognizing that they would lose two months rent and the key money they had paid up front. If one of them chose to stay, they would have to accept the harsh reality that since they had agreed to pay only half of the actual rent for the apartment, they better be prepared to sign a different lease and pay double to live without a roommate. 

“This is a scam!” Sakura yelled into her phone, her voice trembling with frustration and disbelief. But the landlord merely scoffed at her protest, his laughter devoid of any compassion, before hanging up.

The abrupt silence that fell over the room felt oppressive, like a thick blanket suffocating her thoughts. She stood there, her phone still pressed to her ear, staring blankly at the wall as if it could somehow offer answers. Sakura’s mind raced, desperately trying to process the sudden turn of events, but the fight within her faltered as tears threatened to spill when a wave of disorientation and hopelessness washed over her. It felt as if someone had mercilessly pulled the rug from under her, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Her budget was already microscopic; she couldn’t afford to give up this place. The mere thought of searching for another apartment sent a fresh wave of anxiety coursing through her. Even in the unlikely event that she could find something else close to school in the next month, the rent would likely be astronomical, far beyond her limited means. Asking her parents for financial assistance was out of the question, especially her mother; doing so would undermine the entire purpose of her move to Tokyo, funded by her hard-earned savings.

Sakura braved a glance at the boy, the other unwilling participant in this unexpected debacle, and found that he looked just as bewildered and unsure as she felt. The defeated expression on his handsome face suggested he, too, might be struggling financially and didn’t have many options if this arrangement fell apart. They were both stuck, and that was when a thought came to her.

Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be so bad if they could figure out a way to keep out of each other’s space so that they can share the apartment and coexist, at least for the time being. It wasn't a great idea, but it was the most financially appealing one.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Sakura mustered the courage to extend her hand toward him. Her heart raced, uncertainty lacing her voice, but she infused her words with a genuine sincerity as she introduced herself. “I think it’s best that we start over,” she began. “I’m Haruno Sakura.”

The boy eyed her hand wearily, his guard still up after the earlier clash. She could see the tension in his shoulders and the flicker of skepticism in his dark eyes. But after a moment that felt stretched thin, punctuated by the silence of their shared confusion, he let out a deep sigh, one that resonated with resignation. Despite her slight annoyance at his reluctance, she held her ground, the warmth of her palm still extended.

Now that her earlier confusion had cleared, Sakura couldn’t help but notice how undeniably handsome he was—and even more striking up close. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze, something that stirred a faint flutter in her chest, though she’d never admit it. But just as quickly as she felt it, she pushed it down, frustrated by his aloof demeanor. If only he didn’t seem so unapproachable, so distant. It was as though he wore his coldness like armor, a silent warning for anyone who dared to get too close.

With a slow, hesitant movement, he finally shook her hand, but there was little enthusiasm in the gesture—a mere formality between two strangers thrown together by circumstance. “…Sasuke,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as if even saying his name felt like an admission of vulnerability.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your last name,” Sakura prompted. She couldn’t understand why the boy had chosen to omit it, especially since they certainly weren’t close enough to address each other by their first names.

Once again, the boy had the gall to look annoyed at her. There was still an underlying tension that hung between them like a taut string. After a brief pause, he finally relented, the word escaping his lips as if it were a chore. “…Uchiha,” he replied, his tone curt and guarded, as though every syllable was a barrier against further interaction.

“Nice to meet you, Uchiha-san,” Sakura said, forcing herself to maintain a hopeful smile, though it came off slightly lopsided due to her own nerves. “I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but let’s make the best of it!”

Despite her optimistic tone, her new roommate, Sasuke, simply stared blankly at her, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if he were searching for something hidden beneath the surface. His face was an impenetrable mask, revealing nothing of his true thoughts or feelings, leaving Sakura feeling exposed and uncertain.

“Hn.” His noncommittal grunt hung in the air, a sound that seemed to encapsulate his unwillingness to engage further. 

Not allowing herself to be discouraged by his stoic demeanor, however, Sakura pressed on, determined to find some common ground between them.

“I’m going to start my first year as a medical student at Tokyo University in a few days; are you a student as well?” She ventured, her voice bright with tentative optimism. It felt like a safe question formed from an educated guess based on his age and financial circumstances. Who else would be desperate enough to resort to the unconventional arrangement they now faced?

“Ah,” he affirmed, the word slipping from his lips with all the warmth of a winter chill, devoid of any elaboration or invitation to continue the conversation.

Despite Sasuke’s aloofness, Sakura felt her excitement bubbling up within her at something they had in common. “What are the chances that we would go to the same school?” she exclaimed, her voice brightening with enthusiasm. “What are you studying?”

“Law,” he responded, his voice flat and his demeanor as unyielding as a stone wall.

Sakura’s initial excitement immediately deflated at yet another one-word answer. She knew for damn sure this boy was capable of stringing together a whole complete sentence when he was arguing with her earlier.

His dry major certainly matched his personality so far . 

A faint sigh escaped her lips, but Sakura quickly masked her disappointment with a hopeful smile. As the silence settled around them like a heavy fog, her mind raced, desperately searching for another topic to resuscitate the dead conversation. Just as her thoughts scattered in all directions, she noticed Sasuke’s gaze scanning the room. His attention eventually settled on the collection of plushies and knick-knacks she had meticulously arranged on the shelves—each item a piece of her personality, a slice of her past.

Among them were several books, a hodgepodge that reflected her interests, ranging from medical texts to Shoujo manga and romantic novels.

“Cute, aren’t they?” Sakura ventured, her voice light and hopeful as she seized the opportunity to spark a connection. She watched him closely, eager for any sign of engagement.

Sasuke, however, suppressed a sneer, his expression tightening as he took in the pink, girly aesthetics that dominated the room. Sakura could almost feel the judgment radiating from him, but rather than vocalizing his objection, he opted to divert his attention back to the task at hand, bringing in boxes filled with his clothes and belongings.

Tentatively, Sakura hovered near her new roommate, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to fill the silence that was growing increasingly uncomfortable for her. The air felt charged with unspoken words, and she could sense that every moment of silence was a missed opportunity to break through the barriers between them.

"Do you need help with that, Uchiha-san?"

“No,” came his curt reply, the word clipped and dismissive, slicing through the air like a cold wind.

“It’ll be a lot faster if—”

“I don’t need your help,” Sasuke cut her off sharply, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. Not once did he spare his new roommate a glance, his focus solely on unpacking while a determined frown etched onto his features.

Stung by his harsh dismissal, Sakura felt the warmth of her earlier enthusiasm quickly dissipate, replaced by a cold glare that she directed at his back. The audacity of his arrogance was infuriating. “I’ll leave you to it then,” she retorted, the words escaping her lips with an edge sharper than she intended.

Feeling her temper flare, she turned on her heel and made a swift decision to retreat to the kitchen. The small space felt stifling, yet it was also a refuge where she could channel her emotions into something productive. With a determined huff, she opened the cupboard doors, rummaging through the limited supplies she had just unpacked, her movements quick and somewhat aggressive.

The clattering of dishes and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables provided a welcome distraction from her racing thoughts. She was keenly aware of her own hot-headed tendencies and knew that stepping away from Sasuke was the best course of action to avoid escalating the tension. Yet, as she stirred the ingredients together, a mix of annoyance and disappointment swirled within her. She had hoped for a smoother start to their new living arrangement, but it seemed they were both stubbornly clinging to their own perspectives, trapped in their respective corners.

For now, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was simply the independent type or overly possessive of his things. But if she had stayed there for a second longer, Sakura feared she might explode in frustration at her new roommate. After all, the least he could do was offer a full-sentence answer when she was genuinely trying to be helpful.

Just a few minutes ago, Sakura had envisioned that extending an olive branch wouldn’t be so difficult, that perhaps if she put in the effort, they could find a way to coexist peacefully. But now it seemed that being on friendly terms with her pretty-boy roommate would be a far greater challenge than she had initially anticipated.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sakura had spent the rest of the day tidying up the apartment, making mental notes of the things she needed to buy tomorrow, preparing dinner, and even completing her nightly routine. But it was only when she was lying beneath her blanket on the futon, fidgeting with the soft glow of her night lamp that she realized she was going to have to sleep in the same room as a boy.

Her gaze shifted to Sasuke, who was preparing his own futon on the opposite side of the room. The faint sound of rustling fabric filled the quiet space as he meticulously arranged his bedding.

It wasn’t that she had never shared a sleeping space before—she had done so countless times with her best friend during their childhood. But this was different. This was a boy she had only met a few hours ago. And here she was, lying in her most vulnerable state, with a complete stranger whose motives and demeanor she barely understood. The reality of the situation crashed over her like a wave of anxiety. 

Summoning her courage, Sakura decided it was time to voice her concerns, no matter how awkward it might feel.

“Uchiha-san, is it possible for you to… sleep in the kitchen?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the fragile peace in the room.

Expectedly, Sasuke shot her an irritated look, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. She knew he was probably not as interested in her as she was in him, but it was still better to be safe.

“You agreed to share the apartment,” he reminded her.

“I know, I know,” she replied quickly, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “It’s just that I feel safer if we don’t sleep in the same room.”

Sasuke scoffed dismissively as he continued to roll out his blanket. 

“How does the kitchen make any difference?” He challenged, his voice flat and unconvinced.

As his question hung in the air, a knot of uncertainty twisted in her stomach. He did have a point. While the main room and the kitchen were technically separate areas, there was no real physical barrier between them. Just a few feet of open space, and the only doors with locks were the front door, bathroom, and toilet. She couldn’t possibly ask him to sleep outside or squeeze himself into the tiny, claustrophobic toilet room.

“Then how about the bathroom?” Sakura proposed, her voice a mix of hope and desperation.

“You can sleep in the bathroom if you want the lock that badly.” Sasuke retorted, clearly unimpressed by her suggestion. 

This was the moment Sakura realized she actually preferred it when her roommate only uttered one-syllable words at a time. At least then, he didn’t make so much sense. Now, with his pragmatic reasoning, he was frustratingly right, and she found herself scrambling for a counterargument.

“But—”

Sasuke clicked his tongue, cutting her off with an irritated sound. “Why are you being so annoying? You should have known this was part of the deal when you took it.”

An icy surge of defensiveness rose within her, sparking an angry flush in her cheeks. “I just didn’t think that far ahead, okay?” she admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment. “But I can’t afford to just pick up my bag and live somewhere else!”

The tension in the room thickened like a storm cloud, the air electric as their glares met, each unwilling to back down. Sakura could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the rhythm quickening with each passing second as frustration and anxiety coursed through her veins.

Then, with an impatient sigh that seemed to reverberate in the stillness, Sasuke got up and made his way purposefully toward the front door, snatching his jacket off the hook with a swift motion. The sound of fabric rustling punctuated the silence, sharp and jarring.

“Where are you going?” Sakura asked, her voice rising in alarm as her eyes tracked his movements, desperate to understand his sudden decision.

“Out,” Sasuke replied with his back turned to her, the finality in his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without another word, he stepped out of the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him with a definitive thud. Sakura sat there, frozen for a moment. She opened her mouth as if to call after him, but no sound escaped. It wasn’t like she was going to convince him to stay anyway, but was this the outcome that she had hoped for?

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Despite his dramatic exit, Sasuke didn’t have a concrete plan for where to go. He found himself wandering aimlessly through the unfamiliar neighborhood, hoping he wouldn’t be mistaken for a suspicious figure. The evening air was cool against his skin, but it offered little comfort as each step echoed the frustration brewing inside him.

He considered heading to a convenience store, but the thought slipped away as he remembered he had stormed out without his wallet. Even if he had it, he wouldn’t be able to afford much. He had barely enough cash to live alone. Asking his parents for help was out of the question—especially his older brother, who was already footing half of his tuition. 

This whole situation—being scammed and now stuck sharing an apartment with a stranger—was never part of his plan, but Sasuke was stubbornly determined to see it through by himself. 

Sakura, in the meantime, was sitting in her futon. She replayed the events of the day in her mind, the sharp exchange with Sasuke echoing in her thoughts. She felt a tightness in her chest, torn between the desire to reach out and the stubborn pride that kept her silent. Yet, despite her reluctance to close her eyes, the moment her head hit the pillow, exhaustion washed over her like a tide, and she was out like a light. The whirlwind of emotions, combined with the stress of being scammed on her move-in day, had drained her more than she realized.

Unbeknownst to Sakura, an hour or two later, the apartment door creaked open slowly. Sasuke stood in the dim hallway, straining to hear any sign of life from within the room. The silence was thick, punctuated only by the faint sound of Sakura’s soft breathing. The complete stillness in the room wrapped around him like a comforting cloak, encouraging him to step inside. It was a relief for him to find that the annoying girl he had somehow ended up with as a roommate was finally fast asleep.

As he crossed the threshold, the wooden floor creaked softly under his weight, the sound barely disturbing the quiet atmosphere. The low light from the night lamp cast gentle shadows across the room, illuminating the contours of Sakura’s figure as she lay curled up in her futon. 

For a moment, he simply stood there, taking in the scene. Her peaceful expression contrasted sharply with the frustration she had displayed earlier, a reminder that beneath their clash of personalities, she was just another person trying to navigate a challenging situation.

But as quickly as the thought came, Sasuke shook his head, brushing aside the unwelcome surge of sympathy. He had no time for that.

Sasuke silently settled into his futon, the fabric rustling softly as he shifted beneath the blanket. But unlike Sakura, who lay peacefully in her slumber, he found himself tossing and turning, the unfamiliarity of the bedding gnawing at his restlessness. The texture felt foreign beneath him, and he missed the weight of his usual blankets.

The sight of Sakura’s tranquil face only deepened his irritation as he lay there. She looked blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside him, her cheeks slightly flushed in sleep. Each gentle sigh she released seemed to mock his own unease. Determined to reclaim some semblance of control, he resolved to be the first one awake the next morning. With a huff, he rolled onto his side, staring into the darkness as if it could somehow offer him an escape from his thoughts.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

As dawn broke, Sakura stirred from her sleep, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. She expected to find herself alone, cocooned in her new apartment’s quiet stillness, but to her surprise, she heard the sound of rattling at the front door. In walked a visibly fatigued Sasuke, the shadows under his eyes revealing the sleepless night he had endured. He held a bag from the convenience store, the crinkling sound cutting through the morning calm. Despite having freshened up that morning, he still looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, his dark hair slightly tousled and clothes fitting him just a bit too loose.

“Were you out the whole night?” Sakura asked, her voice raspy from sleep. The guilt she had managed to suppress while unconscious now clawed at her insides, twisting uncomfortably.

Sasuke glanced over at her, momentarily taken aback by the sight of Sakura in her futon, her hair a messy halo around her face, and her features softened by the early hour. The unguarded expression on her face, still drowsy from sleep, struck him in an unexpected way. Weirdly, the word “cute” flitted through his mind—a thought he quickly pushed aside, unwilling to linger on such sentiments.

Sasuke shook his head, not so much in response to Sakura’s question but more as a way to clear his thoughts. It was clear that neither of them were early risers, and he, specifically, was having a very rough morning, because honestly, what was that thought just now?

“If that makes you feel better about it,” he replied. His annoyance still lingered, but it didn’t carry the same sharp edge it had yesterday. Maybe the weariness was softening his defenses, or perhaps he was just too tired to keep the walls up.

Sakura furrowed her brows but chose not to push him, deciding to set aside their differences for the time being. It was certainly too early to fight about this now, and truth be told, Sasuke had a legitimate reason to be angry with her anyway. Besides, she had a busy schedule ahead of her, including a trip to the grocery store to pick up fresh produce and pantry staples for the week, followed by a visit to a secondhand store for some essential items that would make their apartment feel more like home. She was going to need all the energy she was going to muster.

With a determined huff, she folded up her futon and made her way to the bathroom, hoping a shower would wash away the remnants of sleepiness and the anxiety that clung to her from the previous night. Meanwhile, Sasuke tried to ignore his roommate's lingering attitude, shifting his attention to his breakfast instead. The silence in the room became the backdrop to their individual morning routines, each lost in their own thoughts as they prepared for the day ahead.

Chapter Text

Sasuke didn’t know exactly how his roommate’s day was going, but it had to be better than his. With the unconventional arrangement still weighing heavily on his mind like a secret that couldn’t wait to be uncovered, every little thing put him on edge. It didn’t help that Itachi, his older brother, was more interested in hearing about Sasuke’s new apartment than he was to talk about it. 

Even Itachi’s casual question of “How’s your new place, Sasuke?” had got him tensed up. 

“It’s fine,” he replied curtly, trying to maintain a composed demeanor.

“It’s quite far from home, isn’t it?” Itachi continued. “You know I can always give you some—“

“I don’t want your money,” Sasuke interrupted quickly, bitterness flooding his chest faster than he could stop it. 

His brother never said it outright, but Sasuke just knew that Itachi pitied him. It was there in the small glances, in the quiet pauses, in the way Itachi never seemed surprised by his failures.

Perhaps he should have just sucked it up and done what even their father’s “golden child” couldn’t bring himself to do. If he had, maybe he’d have finally proven himself—shown his worth in a way that no one, not even his father, could ignore. But as predicted, he acted like a spoiled coward and chose to run away. The memory of his last argument with their father still echoed in his mind, the harsh words and the look of bitter disappointment etched into his father’s face.

“You’re the one who wanted me to lay low,” Sasuke murmured, hoping for an argument, but Itachi only sighed—a quiet sound that held no hint of anger, just a calm acceptance that made Sasuke feel small.

“I want you to be comfortable, Sasuke.” Itachi’s tone softened, perhaps sensing the tension in Sasuke's response. “Can I come over for a visit?”

“No.” The word slipped out faster than he intended. The abruptness of his own voice surprised even himself. Sasuke took a slow, steady breath, forcing himself to ease the tension in his shoulders. “I’m still sorting things out; it’s a bit…messy.”

Fortunately, Itachi seemed to accept the excuse with a small nod. “You’re right,” he agreed, his voice measured and unassuming. “I guess it’s only been a day. You probably haven’t had time to fully unpack yet.”

Sasuke let himself relax a fraction, relieved that maybe Itachi would let the topic go. But his brother continued, undeterred. “Then… have you gone shopping for essentials? Utensils, dishes, that sort of thing?”

Sasuke hesitated, the memory of eating breakfast with flimsy plastic utensils flashing in his mind. “…Not really,” he admitted, picturing the crumpled remains of the bento package he’d tossed in the trash this morning. The apartment’s drawers and cabinets were still nearly empty, making the place feel more like a temporary stop than a home. 

It wasn’t that he hadn't thought about these little details; his mind was just a bit preoccupied yesterday. Besides, it felt silly admitting it, but he hadn’t quite grasped the reality of setting up a new life from scratch, especially with this being the first time living by himself.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” he muttered, the admission thick with reluctance.

“Then let me help you, baby brother,” Itachi responded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched his younger brother’s unamused expression. 

Sasuke scowled, either from the nickname or from the realization that, once again, Itachi had managed to insert himself right into his affairs. This was not what was supposed to continue happening after he moved out.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

As much as he appreciated Itachi’s help, Sasuke couldn't ignore the growing annoyance at his brother's persistent probing about his new living situation. By the time they’d finished shopping, he was itching to leave, eager to get back and put an end to the conversation.

When he finally stepped into his apartment, however, he froze. His new roommate sat at a low, wooden table that definitely wasn’t there before. Around the apartment were other items that caught him off guard—a small drawer, fresh towels, and various kitchen and bathroom essentials neatly arranged. Sasuke’s brow furrowed as he took it all in. The towels and kitchen supplies, he could understand; she must have gone shopping too. But that drawer? How had she bought it and managed to carry it back here on her own?

“Uchiha-san,” Sakura’s voice cut through his thoughts; her determined eyes beckoned him over. “Please have a seat.”

Sasuke glanced at her, then at the plate of onigiri neatly arranged in front of her. He placed the shopping bag he’d been carrying on the kitchen counter, lingering for a moment before finally taking a seat across from her.

“What is this?” he asked, unable to mask the mix of curiosity and cautious skepticism in his tone.

“A gesture of friendship,” she replied, sliding the plate closer to him. “And an apology for last night.”

Sasuke eyed the rice balls, glancing briefly up at Sakura’s expectant gaze before turning back to the simple yet neatly arranged offering. Finally, he reached out and picked one up, taking a careful bite. He chewed thoughtfully, and his eyes widened ever so slightly when he recognized the filling—salted salmon, his favorite.

Across from him, Sakura watched him closely, her fingers laced together, her anticipation almost palpable as she waited for a verdict. “How is it?” she ventured, her voice light but tinged with a hint of nervousness.

Sasuke took his time, letting the flavor settle as he kept his expression impassive. Finally, he gave a subtle nod of approval. The gesture was small, but it was enough to make Sakura’s shoulders relax as she let out a relieved sigh.

In her original plan, Sakura had intended to prepare a more elaborate meal to accompany the rice balls, something that would surprise Sasuke and show her thoughtfulness. But with the uncertainty of when he’d return, she’d opted for something simple and quick. Little did she know, in her haste, she had inadvertently served Sasuke his favorite—a stroke of luck she didn’t quite realize at the time.

As Sasuke continued to chew, Sakura picked up an onigiri of her own, one she had marked with a small drop of soy sauce to signify her favorite filling: umeboshi. She bit into it, and instantly, the tangy burst of plum flooded her senses. She let out a soft, satisfied hum, closing her eyes briefly as the flavor lingered on her tongue.

Her enjoyment didn’t go unnoticed by Sasuke. For a moment, his gaze flickered to her, a fleeting glimpse of curiosity crossing his face. But Sakura was too absorbed in the sharp contrast of flavors to pay him any mind.

The two ate in the first comfortable silence they had shared since moving in together, a rare, almost peaceful moment that felt like a small breath of fresh air in the otherwise tense atmosphere. The stuffy weight of their previous interactions—the awkward exchanges, the underlying friction—seemed to lift just slightly as they sat together at the low table

As the silence stretched on and the atmosphere gradually lightened, Sakura felt a growing sense of relief. It was nice, she thought, to just exist in the same space without the constant underlying tension. But the quiet was also a reminder that things couldn’t stay this way forever. There were still important matters to address, things that couldn’t be ignored if they were going to make this arrangement work in the long term.

Sakura shifted in her seat, setting down her onigiri with a small, deliberate motion. She gathered her thoughts before speaking, knowing the conversation was inevitable.

“Uchiha-san,” Sakura began, her voice steady but careful. She wasn’t sure how Sasuke would take it, but she knew it was important to establish some kind of understanding early on. “I think it’s best if we keep this arrangement between the two of us. It’s going to be a hassle to make excuses or even explain this to other people.”

Sasuke’s response was simple—just a nod, barely perceptible. It wasn’t much, but to Sakura, it felt like a small sign of agreement, a crack in the wall between them. For the first time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to make this work. Hopefully, this discussion would make her aloof roommate realize that they would both benefit from a bit more cooperation. 

She took a breath, mentally preparing for the next part of the conversation. “Since we’re sharing this place, let’s divide the chores, too.” She glanced at him, trying to read his reaction. “How do you want to do this?”

Sasuke’s mouth tightened into a slight frown at the mention of chores. Was she suggesting they take turns washing dishes and doing each other’s laundry?

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind until now, but with each passing moment, he felt more acutely aware of just how unprepared he was for all of this. 

“I don’t like people touching what’s mine,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, as if the matter were settled in his mind.

Sakura let out a weary sigh at his answer. She didn’t even know why she bothered asking when she had already predicted his answer. “Should that be another rule then?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral, even though part of her already felt deflated. “I guess it’s fine if we just clean up after ourselves.”

Sasuke responded by nodding again, his expression as impassive as ever. Sakura watched him for a moment, her heart sinking as she realized just how little they seemed to be communicating. She had been hoping for something more, some indication that they could work together.

But this—this was starting to feel like the same standoff, with no real effort from him to meet her halfway. His bare-minimum responses were already getting old, and she couldn’t help the frustration bubbling inside her.

So much for working together. 

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Just like the first night in the apartment, the second night proved to be far from the smooth experience that both Sasuke and Sakura had hoped for. Despite the small improvements in their interactions, the awkwardness still lingered, hanging in the air like an unspoken tension.

They had settled into their respective futons, each one carefully positioned as far apart as possible, near opposite walls of the main room. The table Sakura had brought home, now serving no purpose other than to remind them of the uneven start to their living arrangement, was neatly tucked away in the lower part of the closet, laid on its side as though it had never been there in the first place.

Sasuke lay down, pulling the blanket up to his chin as the cool air of the apartment brushed against his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to prepare himself for sleep, but before he could drift off, a faint glow of light seeped through the thin skin of his eyelids. The brightness was small, but it was enough to pull him from the edge of sleep; his mind immediately alert.

He exhaled slowly, the frustration of the day creeping back into his thoughts. For a moment, he thought it might be nothing—just some stray light from the street outside, or maybe even a passing car. But the glow didn’t fade, and the source was unmistakable. It was coming from across the room.

He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he saw the faint silhouette of Sakura lying in her futon, a small lamp in her hand, its light spilling across the room. The sight was almost peaceful—almost—but for some reason, the light felt intrusive, like an uninvited presence in the quiet space.

“Can you turn that off?” Sasuke grumbled, his brow furrowing as he turned to look at Sakura. 

The lamp beside her—a small, slug-shaped nightlight—glowed brightly, casting a sharp, almost harsh light across the otherwise dark room. Despite its mini size, it was surprisingly bright, like a spotlight in the middle of the night. He didn’t remember it being on when he returned the first night, which made him wonder if it was set on some kind of timer.

Sakura looked up from her futon, a little startled by the sharpness of his voice. She blinked before offering an apologetic smile, trying to diffuse the tension. “Sorry, I can’t really sleep without it,” she said, hoping her roommate would just let the matter rest.

But instead, Sasuke scoffed, unable to hide the disbelief in his tone. “You’re still afraid of ghosts at this age?”

Sakura’s temper flared, a surge of indignation jolting her upright in her futon. “It’s not about ghosts!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet with an edge that surprised even herself. “I just can’t sleep when I feel unsafe! That’s completely reasonable!”

Sasuke's retort came swiftly, fueled by annoyance. “Well, I can’t sleep when the sun is staring at me in the face.” 

Sakura sat rigid, her entire posture bristling as she fixed Sasuke with a sharp glare. Her first instinct was to argue, to snap back at Sasuke’s remark and defend herself. But something inside her made her hesitate. They had finally, after everything, managed to be on somewhat decent terms—albeit only for a few hours. That had to be something, right? If she lashed out now, wouldn’t she be undoing the fragile progress they’d made? If she couldn’t even tolerate these small, seemingly insignificant issues, how could she expect them to get along in the long run?

Taking a deep breath, Sakura steeled herself. She wasn’t going to let this ruin what little harmony they had.

“Fine!” She conceded exasperatedly. She reached out, pulling the slug-shaped lamp toward herself. Then, without further protest, she covered both herself and the lamp with the blanket, returning the room to complete darkness. The light, once so jarring, was now swallowed up entirely, leaving nothing but the quiet, still room.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Since they have only been in the apartment for a couple of days, there wasn't a lot of trash accumulated in the corner of their kitchen. But today was the designated day for recyclable waste, and Sakura figured she might as well take it out while she was heading out the door. Despite her roommate’s lack of cooperation in most matters, at least Sasuke had sorted the recyclables, making it easier for her.

The morning was beautiful, crisp, and clear, with the kind of quiet serenity that only a Saturday could bring. The streets were still mostly empty, with the neighborhood still slumbering, undisturbed by the day’s hustle and bustle. The only sound that broke the stillness was the soft rustling of Sakura’s footsteps.

As she approached the drop-off site, she noticed an elderly woman slowly making her way toward the collection bins with her own bag of recyclables. Her hair was a neat shade of gray, pulled back tightly into a bun at the top of her head. She wore a simple dark dress with a white shawl draped over her shoulders, the fabric swaying gently with each careful step she took.

After Sakura had deposited her own bags of recyclables atop the pile, she turned to the elderly woman, feeling the urge to be helpful. “Let me help you with that,” she offered kindly, stepping forward to take the bag from the woman’s hands.

But before she could touch it, the old woman yanked the bag away with surprising speed, her wrinkled face set in a stern expression.

“I can handle myself just fine, young lady!” She announced loudly, taking Sakura off guard by her explosive reaction. 

“O-of course, you’re right,” Sakura stammered, her cheeks warming with embarrassment. She gave a nervous laugh, unsure of how to handle the situation. “I’ll be taking my leave then.”

With that, Sakura backed away slowly, feeling the weight of the woman’s gaze lingering on her. She thought that would be the end of the conversation, but as she turned to leave, the old woman spoke up again, her voice sharp and clear.

“You’re the new tenant in 7, aren’t you?”

Sakura froze mid-step, surprised by the question. Sakura initially assumed the old woman was a fellow resident at her new apartment complex, but now she was certain it was the case. 

For a moment, Sakura hesitated. She could always feign ignorance, pretend she hadn’t heard the question, or make up a quick excuse to avoid further discussion. But she didn’t want to come off as rude, and something in the old woman’s voice made her second guess her instinct to evade the conversation.

Sighing softly, she turned back to face the woman, offering a polite smile. “Yes, I just moved in a few days ago.”

The old woman’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t your parents teach you anything?”

“Excuse me?” Sakura snapped, the words slipping out before she could stop them. As much as she fought with her mother, this kind of disrespect was one she couldn’t let slide.

The elderly woman didn’t seem bothered by Sakura’s shift in tone. Instead, she walked slowly over to Sakura’s bag of recyclables, picked it up with a slow, deliberate motion, and tossed it onto the ground.

“What are you doing?” Sakura’s voice was sharp, and her anger flared as she stomped over to the discarded bag, kneeling down to pick it up. The audacity of this woman was beyond infuriating.

The old woman, completely unperturbed by Sakura’s reaction, tapped the bag with the tip of her shoe. “Bottle caps and labels need to be separate from PET bottles, don’t you know that?” she chided.

Sakura felt a flash of irritation at the woman’s tone. Of course, I know that , she thought. She had done it thousands of times before, but it must have escaped her to check when she grabbed the trash bag earlier. She assumed that her roommate would have known to remove them, but it seemed she was already expecting too much from him. 

“Is that tall boy your boyfriend you’re living with?” The old woman’s voice cut through the air again.

Sakura’s heart lurched, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “W-we don’t have that kind of relationship!”

But immediately, she realized how defensive her tone was, and it only made her feel more exposed under the woman’s scrutinizing gaze. Wasn’t it strange that she was sharing an apartment with someone you barely knew? Wasn’t that exactly why the woman had asked?

Under the old woman’s judgemental glare, Sakura added, “It’s complicated.”

The old woman shook her head in disapproval, clearly not pleased with their ambiguous relationship. “I can already hear you two shouting at each other from next door all day yesterday,” she complained. Her high, shrill voice sounded like a nail on a chalkboard. “I will let it slide this time, but I expect you two to keep up with the trash regulation and be mindful of your neighbor.”

Sakura could feel the unspoken threat hanging there, thick and suffocating, as if the old woman’s words were a warning. Or else you’ll be reported to the landlord, Sakura could almost hear the end of the sentence, her stomach sinking at the thought. With the scam that the landlord had pulled on her and Sasuke, Sakura knew nothing mattered to that man more than money. If push comes to shove, Sakura knew the landlord will most likely take the stance with the old woman who can pay for the room herself, as opposed to two broke college students who couldn’t keep quiet. 

“Is that clear, young lady?”

Sakura gritted her teeth, the irritation rising in her chest, but she didn’t let it show. She bowed deeply, her movements stiff and begrudging. She had to focus. No matter how difficult or uncomfortable things were between her and Sasuke, they still had to make this apartment work. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Good, then get on with it.” The old woman turned on her heel, not sparing Sakura a second glance. 

As the old woman walked past, she scoffed at someone coming from the opposite direction, a cold look thrown over her shoulder. The person merely shot back a glare, but there was no exchange.

Once the old woman was gone, Sakura exhaled sharply, looking down at the recyclables she had to sort. She rolled her shoulders, trying to release some of the tension in her body before kneeling down and starting to separate the labels and bottle caps from the bottles. Luckily enough, the task was short-lived, with only two bottles to sort. But the simple act gave her just enough of a distraction to become too focused to notice the figure approaching.

She whipped around, startled, when she finally noticed the presence that loomed over her like a shadow.

“Kami, you scared me!” She exclaimed, but the moment she recognized the silhouette before her, she returned to the task at hand. “How long have you been standing there?” 

Sasuke’s piercing gaze remained on her, and for a moment, she felt a rush of unease flood her chest. His voice, when it came, was laced with a quiet, simmering anger. “Why did you apologize to that crone?”

Typing the bag back up, Sakura stood and dragged it over to the pile. “You always apologize when you make a mistake, Uchiha-san.”

Sasuke gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening as he recalled the way the old woman had reproached his roommate. The sharp sting of indignation simmered just below the surface.

He wasn’t denying that they had made a mistake, but the way the old woman had blown it out of proportion—insisting that it was some grand offense—was maddening. And what irked him even more was that Sakura had lowered her head, humbly apologizing for something that wasn’t even her fault. His chest was tightening with a mixture of frustration and something else at the thought, a feeling he couldn’t quite name. 

His roommate was letting this old woman walk all over her, and for what? His sake? They are practically strangers. 

“Those bottles aren’t yours,” he emphasized. They were his, as was his fault for not disposing of them properly. 

Sakura watched him, her gaze sharpening as she studied his tense form, trying to piece together the puzzle of his emotions. She couldn’t fathom why he was so worked up over this. To her, it was simple—an annoying, inconvenient moment, but nothing worth the tension Sasuke was radiating.

She understood that perhaps he hated people acting on his behalf without consulting him first. But what was she supposed to do? Scream at the old woman and get them both evicted? 

Sakura was doing her best to keep her composure. She had held her tongue when she received a scolding from the old woman, but she wasn’t prepared for the real blow that came from Sasuke. The accumulation of frustration only intensified when she heard her own roommate chastising her immediately afterward. She knew it wasn’t entirely her fault, but it was starting to feel like it was.

“But it doesn’t matter, Uchiha-san,” Sakura replied, a hint of exhaustion threading through her words. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, the dirt beneath her feet suddenly feeling heavier than it should have. She swallowed thickly, forcing back the lump that threatened to form in her throat. “As far as the tenant living here is aware, we are one unit.”

Sasuke could see it then—the way her eyes were glistening at the corners, the subtle tremble in her clenched fists at her sides. She was trying so hard to hold herself together, but the cracks were beginning to show, and he could feel the weight of her silence pressing down on him. It made something stir in his chest—a strange tightness he couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just guilt—it was something deeper, a frustration that mirrored her own.

“Besides,” she continued, her voice softening even more, almost as if she was speaking to herself, “it’s my fault for not checking before throwing them away anyway.” Her shoulders slumped slightly, the words coming out flat and defeated.

Sakura was right, of course, but Sasuke would only partly acknowledge that. He could understand the reason she apologized in his stead; what he didn't understand was why his roommate wasn’t mad at him. He knew that he would be furious if he was in her place, having to take the fall for something he didn’t do. Yet, this girl acted like her reaction was the most natural and logical response, despite being upset enough about the situation that she was actively holding back tears.

“Do you want the trash guide, Uchiha-san?” Her voice was stiff, forced.

And now she’s offering resources for him to avoid future mistakes. 

What is with this girl? Why couldn't she just be angry at him like a normal person, so he had a reason to be mad back at her? She was doing that just fine the last few days! 

Was this her new tactic? Distracting him with her tears? Because, as much as he hated to admit it, it was working. It was like a silent plea for understanding, and it left him grappling for something to say. His mind scrambled, searching for the appropriate response, but it all felt hollow. He couldn’t even tell if his anger had been genuine or just an automatic reaction.

“I can look it up myself,” Sasuke finally replied, his anger sizzling out quickly, replaced by a dull annoyance. 

His roommate nodded, her gaze briefly flickering to the floor before she turned away. “Alright,” she said quietly, her voice colder now, almost as if she were pulling away emotionally as well. “I’ll see you later then.”

Her words hit Sasuke like a splash of cold water, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Where are you going?” 

His tone was harsher than he intended, but there was an undercurrent of concern buried beneath it, one he didn’t want to acknowledge. Where could she be going, looking like she might break down at any moment? The thought of her walking away, alone in that fragile state, made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

Why did he even care? The question echoed in his mind, louder now, a strange knot of unease forming deep in his stomach. He was supposed to be angry at her, wasn’t he? She had every right to be mad at him, and yet… here he was, acting like the one who had been wronged.

From behind her, Sasuke caught the subtle movement of her hand as she hastily wiped away the trace of tears on her cheeks, the delicate gesture almost too quick to notice. When she glanced back at him, there was a brief flash of something fierce in her eyes—determined, as if her vulnerability had been swallowed up by something stronger. “To the grocery store,” she said, her voice steady despite the rawness that clung to it. “I’m going to try to win over that old lady with some homemade cookies.”

Sasuke’s brow furrowed in confusion, his gaze narrowing as he watched her turn around the corner. He blinked, a frown tugging at his lips. The grocery store was in the other direction. So why was she—

Sasuke’s thoughts tripped over themselves as he watched her fade further into the distance. He stood there for a moment, staring after her, before shaking his head in disbelief. 

Sasuke decided then that this girl must be stupid, directionally challenged, or maybe she liked to take the longest possible route for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom. Whatever the case, he really didn’t understand her at all. 

Chapter Text

Today was orientation day. 

They had both woken up at around the same time, but Sasuke had made the mistake of letting Sakura use the bathroom first. He had eaten breakfast and prepared his bag, but the water from the sink could still be heard running in the bathroom.

When his patience finally snapped, Sasuke stalked over to the bathroom door and raised his fist to knock. But, just as his knuckles touched the wood, the door swung open. 

Sakura stepped out casually, smoothing down her hair. “The bathroom’s free,” she announced with an air of nonchalance, as if she hadn’t kept him waiting for what felt like an eternity.

Sasuke could practically feel his pulse ticking in his temples, a slow burn of annoyance simmering. He wanted to complain; maybe throw out a snide remark about morning hogs or schedules. But one look at her carefree expression told him it was pointless—she was blissfully unfazed. 

Taking a deep breath, Sasuke reminded himself it was still early to start a fight. If he hurried now, he might still make it on time. A pointless argument would only seal his lateness, so without sparing her another glance, he strode past and shut the bathroom door behind him with more force than he intended. 

By the time Sasuke finally emerged from the bathroom, Sakura was already gone. He could hear the faint echo of her heels clicking down the hallway outside, growing softer with each step. At least they weren’t leaving together, which spared him the gossip that would surely come from anyone who guessed they were living under the same roof. Rule one of this inconvenient arrangement was simple: act like strangers in public, and the school campus was no exception.

Sasuke arrived on campus with a few minutes to spare to find a seat near the back. Around him, people were already initiating conversation, filling the room with laughter and chatter. The atmosphere was buzzing with the energy of introductions and first impressions. But while it seemed to invigorate everyone around him, Sasuke felt drained by it. 

When a few girls approached him, their voices bright with curiosity, Sasuke offered his name with a polite nod​​ and little more. Their questions lingered in the air, each one an invitation to engage, to connect, but he let each exchange trail off, watching as they eventually drifted back to their own circles. It was as though he had drawn an invisible line around himself, one that he fully intended to keep intact by keeping his gaze forward and his posture intentionally closed.

Soon, a hush fell over the crowd as everyone settled into their seats, their attention drawn to the stage as the ceremony began. Sasuke felt a sense of relief as the noise died down, replaced by the steady, formal rhythm of the opening address.

Given how his roommate had gotten such an early head start, Sasuke was thoroughly confused when he saw Sakura trying to slip in as discreetly as possible while the president’s welcome speech droned on in the background. His thoughts immediately drifted against his will, lingering on questions he knew he shouldn’t bother asking. 

She hadn’t exactly been in a hurry this morning, so why was she late? Did she make a detour? Take one of her odd, winding routes like she did when heading to the grocery store? Maybe she changed her mind about skipping the ceremony? He didn’t know and shouldn’t care. 

And I don’t, he affirmed silently, forcing his gaze to the stage. He knew the last thing he needed was to get distracted by his roommate’s impulsive choices, yet the question stayed, simmering in the back of his mind like a stubborn ember.

After the tedious ceremony and a cursory glance at all the student clubs and organizations that he didn’t sign up for, Sasuke unexpectedly caught sight of Sakura again as he was exiting the campus. 

He hadn’t been looking for her—definitely not—but Sakura’s bubblegum-colored hair was impossible to miss. It caught the afternoon light like a bright flag, a striking contrast to the endless sea of unfamiliar faces and neutral tones that had filled his day.

To his surprise, he felt an odd pang of comfort at the sight. For hours, he’d been brushing past strangers, tuning out their chatter, his senses dulled by the monotony of introductions and names he didn’t care to remember. But that bright pink, loud, and unmistakably hers drew him in. Without realizing it, he found himself weaving through the crowd, following her as if that splash of color were a beacon guiding him through the throng. A part of him resisted, scoffing inwardly at this sudden pull; yet another part leaned into the quiet familiarity she brought.

As they took the same route back to the station, Sasuke made sure to stay a careful distance from his roommate so as to not draw suspicion to either of them. 

This, however, quickly turned into a challenge when he realized only then that his roommate walked very slowly. With every step, it dawned on him that this might be the reason why she’d been late earlier. But if she was this slow, how had he not overtaken her on the way to campus?

Once they reached the train station, her pace dwindled even further. Her strides shortened, and her movements grew hesitant, almost timid. She would walk a few paces, then pause, casting an uncertain glance around before continuing. Her gaze flickered between signs and pathways, as if she were trying to piece together her bearings.

Is she…lost?

Because it certainly looked like it. 

Sasuke kept his gaze fixed on her as they reached the underground intersection, a frenetic hub teeming with people moving with purpose and precision. This was one of the busiest stations in the city, a place that thousands passed through daily, each stride and turn taken with the efficiency of a practiced routine. Amidst the rush, Sakura’s confusion was glaringly obvious. Her steps faltered, her eyes darting to signs overhead, her body leaning slightly as if she might veer left—toward the platform she needed—only to suddenly turn in the opposite direction.

Where did this clueless girl come from? What kind of person lives in Tokyo but doesn’t know how to navigate the train? Sasuke simply couldn’t comprehend it—this complete lack of awareness, as if she’d just arrived from a place untouched by bustling intersections and rush-hour protocols.

For a moment, Sasuke considered stepping forward, revealing himself, and pointing her in the right direction, but ultimately chose not to. She was a grown woman, perfectly capable of reading signs and figuring out the basics of a train station—or at least she should be. If she couldn’t manage that, maybe it was time she learned the hard way.

Fortunately, Sakura soon seemed to realize her mistake. She halted, glanced over her shoulder, and did a small pivot back toward the intersection. He watched as she hesitated once more, her gaze drifting toward yet another wrong path. She took a half step, then stopped, furrowing her brow as if recalling something, before finally shaking her head and heading toward the correct platform with a newfound resolve.

Sasuke let out a sigh and fell into step behind her. His face impassive, yet inwardly puzzled. His thoughts were half-anchored to the absurdity of why he even bothered to wait and make sure. 

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sakura didn’t have early morning class today. Most days, her courses started before noon and stretched into the afternoon, giving her plenty of time to linger in the warmth of her futon. However, the moment she heard her roommate stirring this morning, she also tried to drag herself from her comfortable futon and get ready. 

Sasuke left first, his movements brisk and methodical, slipping out the door without a backward glance. Sakura followed soon after, her steps lighter and quieter as she trailed him from a careful distance so that he would not notice her presence. This, she should have known, was not a difficult task given how fast her roommate walked compared to her. His long and unhurried stride came so naturally to him thanks to his height, while she struggled to match his pace without drawing attention. The challenge was keeping up and not losing sight of her roommate while still memorizing the landmarks on the way. 

After yesterday’s stressful trip to campus, Sakura had come up with the bright idea to follow Sasuke, who clearly knew the area well. She hoped that by following his steps, she might finally make sense of it all. So far, the path had been simple enough—they’d only taken one right turn to reach the nearby station that led into the city center. This part had been manageable, and she almost felt confident as she stayed a few paces behind him.

But she knew the real challenge lay ahead. Yesterday, the central station with its sprawling network of gates, exits, and countless intersecting lines had thrown her completely off. The crowd surged in every direction; each person weaved between platforms like they knew every inch by heart. For her, the chaos had been disorienting. The station’s sheer size and relentless flow of commuters had made it impossible to see where each passage led. Her modest height didn’t help—she could barely see over the shoulders of the people ahead, her view blocked by the endless sea of unfamiliar faces.

Sure enough, she had lost sight of her roommate exactly where she spent half an hour lost and circling yesterday morning. It didn’t help that his dark hair and neutral clothing blend effortlessly with everyone‘s minimal aesthetics. Each person seemed to move with practiced ease, streaming in and out of exits, while she stood on the outskirts, searching in vain.

Suddenly, it was as if all the insecurities she’d buried about moving alone to the big city—about being out of her depth—were bubbling up to the surface, magnified by the press of strangers moving past her without a glance. Each anonymous face only reminded her of how isolated she felt, and the feeling struck her like a wave, leaving her struggling to keep her composure amidst the crowd. Sakura’s chest tightened, her breaths becoming shallow as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. But she clenched her fists, determined to swallow down the urge to cry.

She couldn’t give in—she wouldn’t prove her mother right. Her mother had doubted her every step, believing she was incapable of managing on her own. Sakura had left home determined to prove otherwise, and she knew that only she could uphold that promise to herself.

With a deep, steady breath, she straightened her posture and forced herself to focus. She wove through the crowd, each step growing more purposeful as she pushed toward the direction she believed was right. The flow of commuters shifted around her, parting like river water around a rock. Each step forward felt like a small victory as she steeled herself against the uncertainty, moving onward with newfound resolve.

Just when she felt lost again, Sakura spotted the familiar figure leaning against a large column. Her roommate was swiping on his phone but seemed distracted by the crowd around him. His face was an impassive mask, but he appeared slightly vexed about something if the tiniest crease between his brows was anything to go by.

For a brief moment, Sakura wondered if Sasuke was waiting for someone when he would glance up every so often, as if expecting someone to approach. But before she could dwell on that possibility, Sasuke suddenly looked up, his gaze sweeping in her direction.

Her breath hitched when she thought their eyes might have met, but she couldn’t be sure. She quickly turned her head, hoping he hadn’t noticed her lingering. Sakura didn’t think she could handle the awkwardness if he found out she had been following him, especially after she told him yesterday that she didn’t have class this morning. This was not exactly the best way to build trust in someone who already seemed to be annoyed by her every action. 

Luckily, Sasuke didn’t seem to notice. He simply pocketed his phone and began walking toward the open platform. Only then did Sakura allow a small, relieved sigh to escape her lips.

Hastily, Sakura climbed the stairs to the platform, her heart racing as she squeezed into the train just in time. The tide of commuters behind her pushed forward relentlessly, forcing her deeper into the carriage until she was pressed so tightly against the opposite wall that she had to stand on her tiptoes just to catch a breath. The air grew thick and oppressive as the doors slid shut with a mechanical hiss, trapping her in a stifling, humid bubble.

Sakura strained her neck to catch a glimpse of Sasuke in the sea of passengers, to no avail. He had vanished again, swallowed up by the crowd like he had never been there. Outside the windows, the city blurred past her in a dizzying whirl of lights and colors. The scenery sped by at lightning pace, melting into unrecognizable streaks of urban chaos. Her stomach turned as she tried to focus, but the rapid movement left her feeling disoriented and small within the vastness of the train.

Overhead, the disembodied voice of a lady echoed over the intercom, announcing the incoming stops. Sakura tried to tune in to catch the name of her destination, but it was like trying to hold onto smoke. The words slipped through her mind—too fast, too unfamiliar.

The cramped conditions made it impossible to shift even slightly, the weight of the crowd pressing her into the wall, leaving her feeling pinned and helpless. Her breath came in shallow bursts, the air too thick and stifling, and anxiety began to gnaw at her.

Just as her worry began to boil over, she spotted a figure shouldering through the sea of commuters, his movements purposeful as he cut through the crowd with effort. Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized who it was—Sasuke. Was he actually coming her way? Did he notice her after all?

“Uchiha-san!” she blurted in disbelief before she could stop herself. A wave of relief washed over her, but it didn’t last long. The thought of him noticing her made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Sasuke looked down at his roommate, her arm awkwardly pinned at her side, barely able to move or wave at him. Despite his usual indifference, he couldn’t quite ignore it. He let out a resigned sigh, the sound barely audible over the hum of the train.

Without a word, he squeezed himself between a couple of strangers and Sakura. He braced both hands against the walls of the car, his palms flat on either side of her head, creating just enough space to keep her from being crushed further by the shifting crowd. Sakura blinked in surprise at the sudden proximity, the warmth of his body so close that she could feel the subtle tension in his posture.

Despite having a bit more space now thanks to her roommate, Sakura remained flattened against the wall. The proximity felt both suffocating and, oddly, electrifying. Her hands came up to curl defensively against her heart that was hammering wildly against her chest. She tried to avoid looking up at him, but it was impossible. 

They were always careful to keep their distance in their cramped apartment—no closer than an arm’s length. This was the closest they’d been physically yet, and it caught her off guard.

For a moment, she simply stared at him, unsure what to do with the way his nearness made her pulse quicken. 

“You don’t know how to ask for help?” Sasuke’s voice cut through the air, blunt and irritated. As for why he didn’t extend the help himself, Sasuke didn't delve into it. “You know there’s a women-only car,” he added, his gaze flicking to her face with an expression that bordered on disapproval.

That was when, for the first time, he registered just how much shorter she was compared to him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered it—no wonder it was so much easier to lose her in the carriage than in the station, especially when it was filled with mostly men. 

From this close proximity, something else caught his attention—something unexpected. The faint, delicate fragrance of her shampoo drifted through the space between them, subtle yet unmistakable. It lingered in the air like a soft, floral whisper—like cherry blossoms in full bloom. The scent seemed to wrap around him, cutting through the otherwise stale, humid atmosphere of the train. It was strange how the simple smell of her shampoo could stand out so starkly against the hustle and bustle of their surroundings. A quiet reminder of something calmer, softer—something at odds with the fast-paced world around them.

Without realizing it, Sasuke found himself distracted by the way the scent mingled with the oppressive air, and he wondered how such an innocuous thing could be so...grounding. 

“I didn't want to inconvenience you,” Sakura explained, her disheartened voice pulling Sasuke back from his thoughts. He looked at her then—really looked at her—and saw the way her shoulders slumped, the faint tinge of embarrassment coloring her features. The vulnerability in her voice surprised him, though he didn’t let it show.

Sakura didn’t even realize there was a specific car designated for women, let alone have time to get on one. She hadn’t had the time to learn the details when she was already struggling just to find her way through the crowded station. It never got as crowded so much that a women-only car was needed back in her hometown. 

Truthfully, she also didn’t know it was allowed to ask Sasuke for help given how he was so against accepting help from her before. As much as she would love to rely on him, she didn’t think the trust was quite there. Not yet, she repeated in her mind, the words a quiet promise she wasn’t entirely sure she could keep.

The irritation in Sasuke’s voice was obvious, and it caused a sting of guilt to settle in Sakura’s chest. She had been right all along—asking for help was probably an inconvenience for him. So why was he even here with her right now? 

Why would he care if she gets lost? The police could easily help her find the way if that ended up happening. It wasn’t like anyone would kidnap a poor college student for ransom. 

While Sakura pondered her roommate’s intention, Sasuke's own frustration grew as he struggled to come up with an explanation for his actions himself. The words left his mouth before he could stop them. “So you thought stalking me would be a better idea?”

“I wasn’t stalking you; I was following you,” Sakura quickly clarified, not wanting to spoil his impression of her more than she already has.

Sasuke couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her nitpicky choice of words. 

“You weren’t discreet about it either way,” he pointed out, his tone dry.

Sakura blinked at his words. “Oh,” she responded, her voice small and genuinely surprised. 

When her cheeks warmed at the awkwardness of the situation, her gaze dropped to her feet, and the sight of how close their shoes were—almost touching—only worsened her nervousness. 

She really thought she was being discreet. Unbeknownst to her, Sasuke had initially intended to fake obliviousness to her tailing, but that had proved impossible if he were to make sure she was not lost again.

“Thank you.”

Sakura's gratitude hung in the air as Sasuke scanned the crowded train, deliberately choosing to pretend he didn’t hear her. The real reason he didn’t thanked her at the trash collection site wasn’t because he didn’t appreciate her effort—it was because acknowledging it would mean acknowledging something he wasn’t ready to face. 

If he accepted her gratitude now, it would imply that he hadn’t just helped her out of some distant sense of duty as a good samaritan or out of a whim. It would mean that their meeting wasn’t some random happenstance. It would imply a level of involvement that he wasn't ready to admit.

After all, he barely knew this girl and he shouldn’t care.

And I don't, he reminded himself sharply.

“You’re not from the city,” Sasuke remarked matter-of-factly, his tone an easy diversion as he tried to steer the conversation away to distract himself.

His roommate nodded; her widened eyes reflect her shock at his attempt at a conversation. “I’m from Hino village, further south.”

That small detail explained so much to Sasuke. The way she spoke so openly, so casually, without the constant restraint that most people from the city carried—it was something he had noticed since the first day they met. Her loud, unapologetic way of talking, the unguarded nature of her presence, and the way she stood on the wrong side of the escalator. It made perfect sense now.

Sakura, oblivious to the layers of observation running through his mind, looked up at Sasuke curiously. “You’re from the city, right, Uchiha-san?”

Sasuke’s head tilted upward when the disembodied voice overhead announced the stop they were approaching.

“You need to get off here and take the opposite train back one stop,” Sasuke said, his voice clipped, cutting off the conversation as he often did. But for some reason, this time Sakura didn’t feel the irritation she had before. It was clear they had missed his stop; that much was obvious.

What intrigued her was the fact that Sasuke hadn’t simply gotten off at the correct stop and continued on his way. He was the one risking being late, not her. Yet he stayed, choosing to remain in this inconvenient position despite the extra hassle. 

The way he was acting now didn’t quite align with the cold, indifferent image he had been projecting, and the sudden surge of warmth from that realization caused Sakura to beam at him in response. Sasuke, however, seemed both confused and annoyed by her expression, as if her sudden shift in demeanor was something he couldn’t quite place or understand. His gaze flicked away from her, his brow furrowing for just a moment, before he returned to his usual posture—closed off and impassive. 

It would appear that her roommate was beginning to make an effort of his own.

Chapter Text

As the beautiful wisteria flowers began to bloom, Sasuke took the opportunity to...stay inside and not venture far from his apartment. His world was a quiet rhythm of class, home, and the occasional trip to the nearby convenience store. Lately, however, that convenience store had stock up on the specific brand of chocolate pudding that Itachi used to buy for him as a little kid. It was one of the only desserts that didn’t make Sasuke gagged with the excess amount of sugar.

He had stopped in his tracks the moment he spotted the familiar jar on the shelf—a brand he thought had vanished years ago. After a beat, Sasuke shook off the momentary daze and walked past the display, his attention returning to the bento boxes in his basket. Yet, as he neared the register, a small voice whispered persistently in the back of his mind, and his steps faltered. Before he realized it, he was back in front of the pudding shelf, his hand hovering hesitantly. Decisively, he grabbed a jar and placed it in his basket, his face impassive.

Despite never being a fan of sweets, he’d bought it out of nostalgia that day. Yesterday, he’d done the same, using it as a quiet way to mark the first day of Golden Week. He specifically remembered finishing it the day he bought it and placed the empty glass jar in the kitchen corner to await the nearing trash day. But the glass container wasn’t there anymore when he came back today. Even more perplexing was the presence of a single, untouched jar of pudding sitting innocently on the top shelf of the fridge. 

Had he misremember consuming it? Was he remembering the event from last week?

Sasuke picked up the pudding jar and turned it over in his hands, inspecting it closely. The cap was intact, but it was just a flimsy plastic cover, not sealed in a way that could confirm its freshness. He frowned slightly, his fingers brushing the smooth surface of the glass in thoughts. But then the faint aroma of chocolate swiftly filled his nose as he pried the lid off, shrugging.

A few minutes later, the sound of the front door opening signaled his roommate’s return. Sakura’s steps were light but purposeful as she moved toward the fridge. Unfortunately for her, the fridge was puddingless.

“Uchiha-san,” she called out. “Have you seen a tiny jar of pudding?”

Sasuke froze for a split second, the spoon pausing mid-air before he set it down silently. He didn’t need to answer.

Sakura’s gaze shifted to the main room, her eyes immediately locking onto the empty glass jar sitting on the table in front of him.

Recognition flickered across both their faces as their eyes met, then dropped down to the jar and back up again, finally connecting the dots.

“Oh,” Sakura murmured, her voice soft but pointed.

“Sorry,” Sasuke said immediately. 

They had agreed not to touch each other’s belongings. It was a simple rule, and Sasuke had been the one to insist on it, enforcing it with an almost obsessive precision. So with a pang of guilt tightening in his chest, Sasuke braced himself for the deserving reprimand. Except the pink-haired girl only stood there with an inscrutable stare. Her next words only confused him even more. 

“Was it good?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, genuine curiosity softening her tone.

Sasuke blinked, his lips parting in surprise. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. After a beat, he managed a hesitant “…Yes?”

To his utter confusion, Sakura’s face broke into a bright, beaming smile. “Good!” she chirped, her voice light and carefree, as though the conversation had resolved itself. Without another word, she turned on her heel and returned to whatever task had brought her back, leaving Sasuke sitting in stunned silence.

His gaze followed her retreating figure, his mind struggling to process her reaction. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t annoyed. She hadn’t even made a passing remark about fairness or boundaries—something he would’ve done in her position. Sakura didn’t seem to act any differently toward him either, passive-aggressive or otherwise, which made Sasuke feel even more of a hypocrite and guilty for breaking their simple rule. 

The next day, Sasuke found himself waiting in the main room, his nerves a quiet undercurrent to his usually stoic demeanor. The soft click of the front door once again signaled Sakura’s return, and he turned to see her strolling in, still wearing the faint glow of someone who had enjoyed their day out with friends.

Sensing that her roommate was silently beckoning her over with his stare, Sakura hesitantly came to settle down across from him. Before she could ask what he was doing there, Sasuke presented to her two newly bought jars of the same chocolate pudding. 

Sakura blinked, surprised. “What is this?”

Wordlessly, Sasuke held out a spoon that she was reluctant to accept.

“An apology for yesterday,” he said, feeling a strange sense of deja vu despite their reversing roles.  

Was she this nervous when she was offering him those onigiris?

“Oh.” Sakura stared at Sasuke’s serious face, her lips twitching upward despite herself. He looked so earnest, so weighed down by something she hadn’t even given much thought to. Truthfully, she had troubled Sasuke enough over the last few days that his small mistake hadn’t even crossed her mind as significant.

“I thought the pudding yesterday was the one I bought,” he explained, his posture straightening as he spoke. His stern expression never wavered, as though he were presenting a formal report. “I didn’t know you also bought them.”

Popping the plastic cap off, Sakura scooped up a spoonful of the pudding and brought it to her lips. As the rich flavor spread across her tongue, she nodded to Sasuke’s explanation.

“That’s because I didn’t,” she said. 

Sasuke’s brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. His usual composure cracked just enough to show his bewilderment, and Sakura had to fight back a laugh. The way his expression shifted so quickly was unexpectedly endearing.

“Is it not your pudding?” He asked, his tone tinged with genuine puzzlement.

“Yes and no,” she replied, her eyes glinting with amusement as she set the jar down. “I meant, I didn’t buy the pudding. I made it.”

Sasuke’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, his confusion giving way to surprise. “Made it?”

Sakura hastily swallowed a spoonful of pudding, her cheeks puffing slightly as she tried not to choke. She waved a hand in front of her mouth, buying a moment before continuing. “I accidentally bought sweetened milk instead of the regular kind the other day,” she explained. “So, I’ve been trying to use it up by making pudding.”

Sasuke’s gaze flicked to the jar in her hand, then back to her face, suspicion still clouding his expression. It was true that he often saw Sakura in the kitchen, but he’d never paid enough attention to know what she was making. “So the jar…”

“I saw you throw it away. But it’s so cute, I couldn’t let it go to waste,” Sakura admitted with a sheepish shrug, holding up the tiny glass jar between her fingers. “So, I washed it and reused it.” 

Sasuke’s brow twitched at her casual explanation. Of course, it was because the jar was cute. He should have known. It perfectly aligned with the aesthetic Sakura had cultivated in their shared apartment.

Sasuke couldn’t help but feel a swirl of conflicting emotions, a storm of irritation and reluctant understanding churning within him. He knew Sakura’s intentions weren’t malicious—she wasn’t trying to trick him. Yet a trace of annoyance stubbornly lingered. The cheeky smile she wore earlier certainly didn’t help.

“I was actually going to give you a taste,” she began, her voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment and regret. “But my friends all said that it was too bland, so I was planning to finish the last one myself.” 

She looked down at the pudding jar in her hands, her fingers tapping lightly against the glass, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. She had wanted to perfect the recipe, adding just the right amount of sweetness and flavor, before presenting it to Sasuke—to make the best impression. But it hadn’t turned out the way she had hoped.

Meanwhile, Sasuke finally understood why Sakura seemed so unaffected by his mistake yesterday. This girl knew what was going on but never bothered to explain her weird reaction until now, letting him stew in his guilt. If the pudding was the one she originally made for him, was he even in the wrong? Did he just spend money on two puddings for nothing? Not to mention, she just finished one of them as well. 

Lost in his thoughts, Sasuke's gaze shifted to the remaining pudding on the table. But before he could spiral further, Sakura, as if reading his thoughts, pushed the small glass jar closer to him with an encouraging smile. 

She got up, intending to retrieve a spoon for him, but before she could even take a step, Sasuke reached out and grabbed the spoon that had been nestled inside her empty pudding jar. Then without hesitation, Sasuke started stuffing his face with pudding, much to Sakura’s confusion. 

Sasuke didn’t know why he was consuming it with such vigor and spite. He kept pushing spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, but by the end of it, all he could taste was disappointment. 

It was only then, as the last spoonful vanished, that an unexpected realization hit him like a punch to the gut: he preferred the pudding from yesterday. The one she’d made for him, imperfect but sincere.

Sakura was still standing, her hands hovering in the air as she watched him, unsure of what to say. But Sasuke’s voice broke the silence, abrupt and almost hesitant.

“Can you make more?” His voice was quieter than usual, as if the request caught him off guard too.

Sakura blinked, tilting her head. “Of what?”

Sasuke hesitated, his eyes skimming across the table before he finally gestured vaguely to the empty jar. “These.” His gaze flicked away from hers, avoiding eye contact as the words tumbled out.

A mix of surprise and delight washed over Sakura, evident in the widening of her smile and the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. She purposefully didn’t add any extra sugar in her batch of pudding because she was trying to emulate the taste of the original pudding. She hadn’t thought it would be anything special—certainly not something Sasuke would go out of his way to ask for again.

The warmth in her chest was impossible to ignore as she looked at him, her heart skipping a beat.

“Of course!” Sakura replied as she beamed at him, feeling a strange rush of satisfaction. There was still a lot of sweetened milk in the fridge, after all.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Only a few weeks had passed since Sasuke and Sakura began living together as roommates, and to their surprise, things had been relatively smooth so far. While neither particularly fond of mornings, their schedules seemed to align effortlessly. Sasuke, with his packed morning classes, was usually gone by the time Sakura had to wake up, and when he returned, the apartment was his to himself until late afternoon, when Sakura reentered the space. Aside from a few minor disagreements, they quickly fell into a comfortable routine.

Today, like always, Sasuke had bought a bento from the nearby convenience store for lunch. Back when he still lived in his parent’s house, he would often eat more than what was packed in the box. But now, with a limited weekly allowance, he had to adjust and opted for just one box per meal.

“Welcome back, Uchiha-san!” Sakura greeted him cheerfully as he kicked off his shoes at the entrance.

The sound of her voice, so bright and familiar, had become a staple of their shared life. Sakura has started saying the phrase since the first few days that they decided to share the apartment. Even though he found no reason to do the same to her, he still responded with a small grunt of acknowledgment out of politeness. 

It was just too weird to him to go through the same motions he does with his family, now in this entirely new context. So he didn’t. If Sakura decided to keep doing it, he would respect that it was her choice to do so. 

“Do you still have space for some cutlets?” Sakura asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes, her voice soft and hopeful. “I definitely overdid it this time.”

Sasuke’s gaze drifted to the plate of golden-brown pork cutlets and the large bowl of steaming white rice beside them. It was undeniably more enticing than the repetitive bento of rice with egg he had been eating for the second time that week. As much as the convenience store offered variety in their selection of pre-made bentos, Sasuke had already tried them all at least once, not being impressed by any.

“Help me finish?” Sakura pushed one more time, knowing it was all it took to sway him. 

Within the first few weeks, Sakura had learned that her roommate had an independent streak and a sizable ego, which meant that he dislikes asking others for help and being told what to do. If she outright asked if she could cook for him, she was certain he’d decline, just like he had when she insisted on helping him unpack. 

However, from their conversations on the train the day she had followed him, Sakura had discovered something intriguing—her roommate didn’t mind when she asked him for help. That small detail had become her key to navigating his prideful nature. So instead of directly offering, she had been finding ways to make him feel like he was doing her a favor. She wasn’t entirely sure if he was just humoring her and playing along, but it had been working better than she had ever hoped.

Sasuke, in fact, did know exactly what she was doing. Those puppy eyes of hers were a dead give-away. Yet, begrudgingly, he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse.

So with a resigned sigh, he gave in. “If you insist.” 

His pride might be stubborn, but even he couldn’t deny how tiresome it was to eat the same convenient, bland food every day. 

As the weeks passed with Sakura as his roommate, Sasuke, too, had come to realize just how stubborn she could be. He’d seen her eat her leftovers before, which meant that if he declined her offer today, she would just try it another day. He could also predict what she would claim if he pointed this out, too—something about how the cutlets wouldn’t taste as fresh or crunchy the next day. Hell, the girl wasn’t even trying to hide her victorious smile as he put his dinner in the fridge and sat down across from her. 

Without missing a beat, Sakura eagerly handed him a pair of chopsticks, her smile practically beaming with satisfaction. What a coincidence that she already had an extra bowl of rice waiting for him on the table.

“Itadakimasu!” she exclaimed happily, her voice bright with enthusiasm. But instead of digging in herself, she simply waited, as if the phrase was a cue for him to start.

Sasuke sighed inwardly. He grabbed the chopsticks, spearing a piece of cutlet, and paired it with a mouthful of rice. The savory taste was immediate and satisfying, far superior to the tired bento he’d been relying on for too long. As he chewed, he could feel Sakura’s gaze on him, watching intently as if the success of her plan hung on his reaction.

“How is it?”

Sasuke chewed deliberately, prolonging the moment because he didn't want to admit how much he was enjoying the meal already. The meat was tender and juicy while still having a satisfying crunchy coat. The seasoning was notably salty but complemented the fragrant white rice and sweeter sauce exceptionally well. 

“It’s good,” he commented simply, his words barely doing justice to how much he appreciated it. Yet, that was all it took for Sakura to break into the widest, brightest smile he had seen on her face yet.

“I’m glad!” She beamed, and Sasuke found himself unable to meet her eyes. Instead, he focused on his meal, the sudden warmth in his chest a little harder to ignore.

As days passed, Sakura’s habit of cooking more than she could eat in one sitting began to worsen—coincidentally, Sasuke found himself visiting the convenience store less and less, drawn into the rhythm of home-cooked meals that he hadn’t realized he was starting to look forward to.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sakura was out at the grocery store right now. Sasuke knew this because, as usual, she had asked if he wanted anything. And, as usual, he had simply replied with a simple “no.” The tomatoes he always snacked on had become a staple—one of those things Sakura never forgot to buy.

Usually by this time, his roommate would already be cooking dinner. But it wasn’t until another hour that she burst in through the front door. 

“Sorry! I didn’t realize it was already so late!” Sakura exclaimed, her voice high with apology and a hint of sheepishness.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on the large bags of groceries dangling from her arms. They looked heavy—certainly too heavy for such a small girl like her to be carrying around. They even made an audible thud when she set them on the floor, yet she didn’t appear to be bothered in the slightest. 

“Give me a second; I’ll whip up something for dinner!”

“Don’t bother,” he cut in quickly, his voice firm and low, a hint of finality that made her pause. He gestured toward the plastic-wrapped bento on the table and beckoned her over.

Sakura stared unblinking at the pair of chopsticks and pre-made meal her roommate was pushing into her hands. The unexpected gesture left her momentarily speechless.

“You bought me one?” The question escaped before she could stop it, her voice a mixture of disbelief and a quiet warmth spreading in her chest.

Sasuke opened the plastic cover of his meal with a sharp crack. 

Of course he did; why would this girl think otherwise? 

“It’s too late to cook already,” Sasuke said, his words casual, but his eyes never leaving her, his expression unreadable. “Just eat this instead.” 

He was curt, as usual, but Sakura knew him well enough by now to not mistake that for dismissiveness. Beneath the nonchalance was the quiet understanding he rarely let show.

Smiling softly, Sakura settled onto the other side of the table with her bento while Sasuke dug into his. Her bento was barely warm—likely because he had bought it quite a while ago, and Sasuke’s portion seems to be in the same condition. The fact that he had gone out of his way to buy dinner for her didn’t surprise her as much as the state of the meals itself. 

Why didn’t he just eat his bento earlier while it was still hot?

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you know?” She said, her voice light, though there was a soft tinge of curiosity beneath it.

Sasuke spared her a brief glance before returning his attention to his lukewarm dinner once more. His voice was almost too casual as he answered. “I didn’t,” he lied. “I was busy.”

Lingering around the tiny convenience store longer than necessary, eyes darting toward the entrance to catch sight of her rushing home, couldn’t really be categorized as being ‘busy’. Perhaps if pushed, he might begrudgingly admit that he was waiting for her, but he would not acknowledge that he was worried she was out so late. 

Because it wasn’t worry, he told himself. Just impatience.

Noticing the tension in his posture and the way his fingers gripped his chopsticks just a little too tightly, Sakura let her lips curve into a soft smile. A private understanding settled over her as she let the silence stretch between them for a beat longer. She sensed the weight of his thoughts, but there was no need to bring them up—at least, not now.

“Sorry, I’m back so late,” Sakura said instead, the apology wrapped in a light tone. “I wanted to take advantage of the big sale today.”

Sasuke found himself constantly surprised by how often his roommate felt the need to explain herself, even when he hadn’t asked. It was a peculiar habit, one that seemed to spill out of her effortlessly, as natural to her as breathing. Her voice was never far from him, whether she was addressing him directly or not. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, sometimes stifling stillness he had grown up with in his family home. There, he was always the one expected to provide explanations.

Even when she wasn’t talking to him, she would be humming her favorite tune or voicing her thoughts out loud unconsciously. He doesn’t know what one of the songs was, but her voice, lilting and light, had wormed its way into his mind, echoing in the quiet moments long after she had stopped singing. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have bought too much tonight.” Sasuke heard her mused aloud, her gaze flicking toward the bag as though willing it to shrink. “I keep forgetting how small our fridge is.”

“We’ll manage,” the reply came before he could stop himself. 

We.

The word hung in the air for a moment, and Sakura’s gaze drifted to Sasuke, her mind momentarily pausing at the pronoun he used. We . It was simple, yet somehow, it carried a weight she hadn’t expected. A quiet acknowledgment that they were in this together, even in the small, mundane things. Her lips tugged upward into a grin, a knowing warmth spreading through her chest. She had known he would help, but she wanted to hear him say it aloud anyway. 

”Could you help me put the grocery away later, Uchiha-san?” Her voice was sweet, almost teasing, but there was a hint of genuine expectation beneath it. The corners of her mouth twitched as she awaited his response.

Sasuke shot her an unamused look, his eyes narrowing slightly, the usual indifference in his expression. He knew what she was doing—getting him to agree to another favor, just as she always did. That playful glint in her eyes was all too familiar. Yet, despite himself, he nodded.

“Eat,” he said. His words were almost an order, but there was no harshness in them.

Happily, Sakura complied.

Chapter Text

Although they had initially divided the household chores equally, Sasuke volunteered to take out the trash specifically because most of them were his wrappers and plastic containers from the convenience store. Recently, his designated task has shifted to doing the dishes as Sakura took over cooking for them both. But even that dynamic was beginning to evolve as Sasuke began preparing produce under Sakura’s guidance.

This used to be simple favors Sakura had asked of him during moments of overwhelm. But overtime, he started to take on these responsibilities of his own accord. She had thought nothing could surprise her more than his eagerness in all this, until he came to ask if she could teach him to cook one day. 

“What do you want to cook?” She asked, taken off guard but curious nonetheless. Her bright eyes were gleaming with absolute excitement as she leaned in ever so slightly, her enthusiasm radiating like the warmth of a flame.

Sasuke instinctively took half a step back, his pulse quickening as he realized she had closed the space between them again. It was becoming a pattern—this unconscious habit of hers to inch closer whenever she was excited. 

“S-something simple is fine,” he stammered, his voice stumbling over the words as his gaze flicked briefly to her before darting away. 

Why was this so nerve-wracking? It was just a casual, innocent request. And yet, her proximity, her energy, and the way she seemed to beam at him as if he were the most fascinating thing in the room—it all left him feeling strangely unsteady.

Sakura hummed softly, the melody almost absentminded as she sifted through a mental catalog of recipes. The easiest option would be his favorite rice balls, but that didn’t seem like the best use of their time to start with. 

“How about omurice?” She suggested, tilting her head.

It was a simple dish, forgiving if presentation wasn’t a priority, yet packed with techniques that could teach Sasuke fundamental cooking skills that he can apply to make any dishes by himself in the future. 

When Sasuke gave a small nod, offering no objections, Sakura turned on her heel and made her way to their compact kitchen to gather the ingredients to place on top of the tiny counter. 

Sasuke eyed the tomato and wondered if she knew. He had never explicitly mentioned it, yet Sakura seemed to have an uncanny ability to notice the small, unspoken things. She reminded him of Itachi in that way—quietly observant, always creating choices for him without imposing her will. Even when he was willing but too proud or embarrassed to accept or offer help, she would create an opportunity for him to do so. 

“Five eggs?” he asked, stepping closer to the counter. His voice was calm, yet tinged with a hint of uncertainty, as if testing the waters of this unfamiliar endeavor.

Sakura’s breath hitched as she became acutely aware of the sudden nearness. The faint scent of pine and something distinctly him teased her senses, sending warmth creeping up the back of her neck. She bit the inside of her cheek, willing her focus to stay on the task at hand.

“I know it seems like a lot with the chicken,” she replied, her voice steady despite the quickened beat of her heart. She motioned toward the eggs as if anchoring herself in practicality. “But you’ll need plenty to make the fried egg layer big enough to wrap everything.

Technically, a single portion of omurice only required two eggs. But Sakura always added an extra one when making his to ensure that he always had a fulfilling meal.

“Oh! And put this on!” 

Her voice chimed with excitement as she thrust her apron into his hands. It was a well-worn thing, the fabric soft from use, its pastel color scheme and frilly trim an unmistakable marker of Sakura’s taste.

Sasuke’s brow furrowed as he held it up, inspecting it like it might bite him. “It’s too small,” he grumbled, though what he really wanted to say was that the design made his dignity shrivel. The cheeky pastel pink and white stripes clashed violently with the stoic image he preferred to project.

Feigning innocence, Sakura’s lips curved into a sly smile, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You’re the main chef today, so it’s mandatory.”

Sasuke glanced between the apron and Sakura, his jaw tightening as he debated whether this was a battle worth fighting. In the end, he let out a long-suffering sigh and slipped the frilly garment over his head. 

If it looked perfectly cute and practical on Sakura, on him, it was a disaster. The hem barely reached his thighs. The fabric strained slightly across his broad shoulders, making it painfully obvious it wasn’t designed for someone of his build. Still, he tugged at the strings as if loosening them would salvage what remained of his dignity. This flimsy piece of fabric wasn’t going to protect him from spills; it couldn’t even protect him from his bruising pride. Kami forbid anyone ever see him in this. 

Next to him, Sakura stood frozen, her big, round eyes fixed on him with a look that betrayed her struggle. Her lips pressed into a tight line, twitching at the edges as though trying desperately to hold back a comment. He could practically hear the unspoken words—the ones she knew he’d hate to hear.

“Just spit it out,” Sasuke urged, his tone edged with exasperation. He should have known this would happen the moment he asked her for help.

She hesitated for only a second before her eyes lit up. “Can we take a picture to commemorate this?”

“No.” His answer was immediate, firm, and left no room for negotiation—at least, that was his intention.

Before he could turn away, Sakura had already pulled out her phone, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she struck a pose in front of him. Her bright grin was disarmingly genuine, and in that moment, Sasuke relented. He stayed perfectly still, arms crossed over the frilly apron, his stoic expression unwavering as she snapped the photo.

“That photo will never see the light of day,” he warned, his dark eyes narrowing as he watched her giggle, the sound soft and infectious.

Sakura ignored his warning, too busy marveling at the screen. The photo was perfect—her wide, carefree smile contrasting sharply with Sasuke’s trademark deadpan glare. Even in his stoicism, there was something defiant in his eyes, as if daring anyone to comment on the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Only for memories, Uchiha-san,” she assured him, her voice carrying a teasing lilt as she tucked her phone away.

Sasuke huffed softly, his expression unreadable, but something in her words lingered. He’d never cared for photos, finding them unnecessary and frivolous. But as he stood there, frills and all, he felt a faint warmth at the thought of their picture existing on Sakura’s phone. 

With the photo session finally out of her system, Sakura shifted her focus back to teaching. Sasuke quietly observed and took note of all the ingredients she put into marinating the chicken before setting it aside to soak up the flavors. 

His first task was straightforward—cutting up the vegetables and the tomato. This wasn’t new to him; he’d handled prep work for her countless times before. There wasn’t much left for Sakura to teach him here, yet he approached the task with the same focus he applied to everything.

“You’re really good at this, Uchiha-san.”

Hearing Sakura’s remark, Sasuke couldn’t help but let out a proud huff of breath. He had had experience with blades, after all. 

While Sasuke finished chopping, Sakura retrieved a large pan. She demonstrated how to operate the stove before stepping aside and letting him turn it on himself. As the flame flared to life, Sakura handed him a spatula—a playful-looking utensil that matched the whimsical set from which the frilly apron undoubtedly came. Sasuke leered at her, his eyes narrowing in a way that might have been intimidating if her infectious amusement hadn’t completely defused the moment. She was enjoying this far too much, and she wasn’t bothering to hide it.

The cooking process began smoothly as Sakura directed Sasuke to sauté the onions, their sweet, sharp scent quickly filling the kitchen. She watched him carefully as he added the marinated chicken before tossing in the leftover rice and vegetables.

The aroma that wafted up was immediately familiar to Sasuke—a comforting blend of spices, garlic, and something heartier beneath it all.

“Season it until you like how it tastes,” Sakura added, stepping back to beat the eggs with milk and a pinch of salt.

Meanwhile, Sasuke sampled a small portion of the seasoned rice. The flavors were decent, but they didn’t quite align with the familiar taste of Sakura’s omurice. There was a subtle complexity missing, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Frustration flickered within him, but it came with the realization that cooking was more than just following a recipe.

Satisfied that everything was thoroughly combined, Sakura gestured for him to set the pan aside. She retrieved a smaller pan, setting it on medium-high heat with a swirl of oil, and told him to pour in a portion of the beaten egg mixture. The egg sizzled as it hit the hot pan, spreading evenly into a delicate golden layer. When the underside of the egg was cooked, she lowered the heat.

Then came the most challenging part of the recipe. Sasuke watched intently as Sakura demonstrated the delicate art of folding the egg over the rice and flipping it onto the plate. The egg wrapped snugly around the rice, forming a tidy crescent shape. With a deft flick of her wrist, she flipped the omurice onto the plate, its golden surface smooth and unbroken.

Sasuke approached the task with measured focus, scooping the rice mixture into the center of the egg. That part went well enough, and for a moment, he thought the hardest part was behind him. But as he slid the spatula under the egg to fold the edge over the rice, the utensil snagged. The thin egg wrap tore, leaving a small, jagged hole that revealed the filling beneath.

“Shit,” Sasuke muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing in frustration.

Beside him, Sakura clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh at his slip-up before it could fully escape.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, the flip didn’t go very well either. As he attempted to slide the omurice onto the plate, the rice and chicken began to spill out of the hole in the egg, stretching the tear wider. The contents of the dish began to fall apart, tumbling out onto the plate in an unsightly mess.

“Fuck,” he cursed again. His hands hovered awkwardly, unsure of how to salvage the wreckage. The dish was clearly beyond repair at this point. With a resigned sigh, he stepped back, watching helplessly as his first attempt at cooking lay ruined in front of him. Still, his roommate appeared unfazed as she clapped enthusiastically in congratulations.

“And to top it off! Some ketchup!” 

Sakura grabbed the bottle from the fridge, shaking it energetically. But after the initial splat of ketchup, the bottle sputtered, expelling nothing but a few hollow pops of air. She scowled at the empty bottle before tossing it into the recycling bin. 

Sakura stretched toward the new bottle of ketchup on the top shelf of the cupboard, her fingers just grazing the edge as she stood on her tiptoes, but it remained stubbornly out of reach. 

Why was she even bothering with the top shelves? It was almost like she’d forgotten her own height or was simply too stubborn to accept it.

Sasuke watched, half-amused, half-concerned. The sight was both endearing and maddening at once. He still didn’t understand how she’d managed to get it up there in the first place. 

His silent question was promptly answered when Sakura, with a determined huff, lifted herself onto the kitchen counter, her knees slipping slightly on the slick surface. When she wobbled slightly on the counter, Sasuke decided he needed to step in.

Sakura froze in surprise as she felt a pair of large hands firmly grasp her waist, pulling her gently off the counter. The moment her feet touched the ground, Sakura was prepared to protest, to tell him she had it under control, but the words died in her throat.

As she turned, she found herself facing Sasuke, his presence so close that her back pressed lightly against the counter. The compact kitchen suddenly felt even smaller, the proximity between them was both abrupt and startling.

Sakura’s breath caught as the warmth radiating from his body enveloped her. She was acutely aware of the steady rhythm of his breath, each exhale mingling faintly with hers. Her pulse quickened, a quiet thrum against her ribcage, as if her body were reacting on its own.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other. His eyes were unreadable, but there was something in the stillness that made her heart beat a little faster. Then, just as quickly, his gaze flickered up toward the cupboard, as if remembering the task at hand.

Without another word, Sasuke reached over her head with ease, his arm brushing against the soft strands of her hair as he grabbed the ketchup bottle from the top shelf. The fleeting contact sent a subtle shiver through Sakura, though she quickly suppressed the instinctive flinch that followed. With a casual drop, Sasuke placed the bottle gently into her hand, his movements unhurried, and then stepped back, giving her space. 

“There,” he said, his voice low and simple, the tone betraying nothing of the quiet charge that hung between them. 

The absence of his proximity was almost as noticeable as his presence had been, leaving Sakura to exhale softly, her grip tightening on the bottle as she tried to steady the erratic flutter in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t quite find her breath. What had just happened? 

Is he doing this on purpose? Her mind immediately spun with the question, and she couldn’t stop the heat that rose to her cheeks. Had he intentionally pulled her close, or was it just her imagination running wild?

Perhaps he was simply teasing her, but she couldn’t make sense of it. Sasuke wasn’t the type to tease… was he?

“Thank you,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended, almost timid. Where had her earlier confidence gone? How could he seem so utterly unaffected by the closeness they had just shared when all she could feel was the lingering flutter of warmth in her chest, her heart still skipping erratically?

“We need to get you a stool,” Sasuke remarked, his tone dry but edged with just enough amusement to make her bristle.

There was a hint of mocking somewhere in that suggestion, and she considered snapping back, but instead, she let out a small huff, choosing to interpret his words as genuine concern. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt this time.

As they sat down at the table, Sakura bit back a chuckle at the sight of Sasuke still wearing her frilly apron. It hung awkwardly on him, but he didn’t seem to notice—perhaps with something on his mind. Either way, she wasn’t about to remind him and risk ruining her fun and revenge for earlier.

With the new bottle of ketchup in hand, Sakura carefully drew a simple bear face on her omurice, adding a touch of creativity to her dish. Once she was satisfied with the garnish, she passed the bottle over to Sasuke.

He took it reluctantly, glancing down at his plate with a frown. The torn egg wrap and scattered filling seemed like a mockery compared to Sakura’s neat and cheerful creation. The thought of decorating it felt pointless, a garnish on what he saw as evidence of failure.

One could argue that taste mattered more than presentation, but for Sasuke, the sight of his dish—a reminder of his failure—was enough to make him lose what little appetite he had left.

Sakura, ever perceptive, noticed the slump of his shoulders and the way his gaze lingered on her plate. Without a second thought, she swapped their dishes with a quick, decisive motion.

“What are you doing?” Sasuke questioned, his voice low with a hint of suspicion.

“I like this plate better,” Sakura replied smoothly, her casual smile radiating an air of innocence, as though her choice were the most natural thing in the world.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes slightly, his hand already moving to switch the plates back, but before he could act, she snatched the ketchup bottle from his hand and adorned his torn omlete with hearts of varying sizes, each one more exaggerated than the last. 

Sasuke’s hand froze in mid-air, hovering indecisively as he contemplated whether it was worth being stubborn about the switch.

Sakura flashed him a victorious smile and leaned forward to mix the contents of the plate she had claimed, stirring the rice and chicken together. She left one portion of the omurice untouched, preserving the intact egg wrap and the ketchup hearts she’d so carefully drawn.

With a deft motion, she scooped that pristine portion onto Sasuke’s plate. “You eat more than I do,” she said simply. Then, without giving him a chance to argue, she eagerly dug into her now-mixed omurice, savoring the first bite as though she’d been waiting all day for this moment. 

Not knowing what else to do, Sasuke’s gaze drifted back to his own plate, where the grumpy-looking bear Sakura had drawn with ketchup stared back at him. The hearts she had added to his imperfect omurice were clearly meant to dissuade him from switching plates, yet she had offered him the portion with a tiny heart anyway.

He sighed quietly, lifting his spoon. The mix of exasperation and warmth stirring in him was an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation. How annoying.

Sasuke took a hesitant bite, only to pause as the flavors bloomed across his tongue. He hadn’t expected it to be this good, though he supposed it wasn’t surprising—Sakura was the one who had marinated the chicken and patiently guided him through each step of the process. Following a recipe wasn’t the real challenge, as he realized; the true skill lay in the art of seasoning. It was a skill that required an instinct he didn’t yet have—a kind of attentiveness he had rarely practiced. As he ate, his thoughts strayed to Sakura.

How did she always manage to get it so right?

He wondered if she tailored her cooking to his tastes. The thought sent a ripple of warmth through him, equal parts gratitude and a strange, unfamiliar tenderness. He wasn’t sure when her meals had started to feel personal, but they did. It was a reminder that someone was paying attention to him in ways he didn’t often notice—or deserve. 

If that was true, he realized, then he needed to start paying more attention to her. The idea settled in his chest, soft but insistent, like the lingering taste of her perfectly seasoned chicken.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

“What?”

“Nothing!” Sakura blurted, her cheeks flushing as she tore her gaze away. She had been staring, and the realization only made the warmth in her face intensify. Fumbling to cover her embarrassment, she awkwardly brushed past Sasuke to drop her bag in the main room before returning to the kitchen.

Lately, Sasuke had taken on more cooking responsibilities, assisting her with meals and steadily gaining confidence in the kitchen. She expected that Sasuke would soon be able to make his own food, but she hadn’t expected to come home and find him hunched over their cramped kitchen counter with his sleeves rolled up. And wearing her apron, no less.

If this was going to become a regular thing, they should probably invest in an apron that actually fits him. Still, she couldn’t help but smile as she watched him. Seeing her aloof roommate like this, so domestic and quietly persistent, tugged at a part of her she tried to ignore.

“What are you cooking?” she asked, her curiosity evident as she peeked over his shoulder.

Sasuke, avoiding her gaze, turned away, his tone gruff. “You’ll see. Go sit down.”

Despite his brusque response, Sakura couldn’t keep the wide smile from spreading across her face. She had already noticed the table in the main room set for two, but she couldn’t resist asking. “Are you cooking for me, too?”

He shot her a quick glance, the faintest twitch of annoyance crossing his features. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He's a bit grumpy in his answer, she thought, but there was no malice in his tone. Somehow, that only made it more endearing. 

This was definitely either out of embarrassment or nervousness—perhaps both. Sakura knew the sensible thing to do was to sit down quietly at her seat and wait for dinner with her chin in her hands. Yet she couldn’t resist the urge to be a distraction, especially with the sight of her roommate’s tall figure practically towering over the tiny kitchen like a giant, his hands expertly navigating the small countertop space they have. 

Sakura giggled, pulling out her phone to capture the moment. The camera sound caused Sasuke’s head to snap in her direction. His glare was sharp enough to silence most people, but Sakura only grinned wider, unfazed. Sasuke didn’t say anything—perhaps deciding it wasn’t worth the argument—but the faint twitch of his brow suggested he wasn’t thrilled about being photographed in her apron again. 

Still, Sasuke took a mental note as he returned to his task—his roommate liked to take pictures. It was an observation he tucked away quietly, unsure if it would ever be useful, yet he couldn’t entirely dismiss the thought.

Soon enough, with Sakura’s help, he began bringing out the dishes. As they set the table, Sasuke finally sank into his seat, his gaze flickering to Sakura. The excitement in her eyes as she scanned over their dinner was contagious, and for a brief moment, he let himself feel a swell of pride. This was the first dinner he had prepared entirely on his own—a milestone he hadn’t realized would feel this satisfying.

“Uchiha-san, give me your phone!” Sakura suddenly demanded, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Why?” He asked, his tone wary as he instinctively narrowed his eyes, but he dug into his pocket and handed the phone over without protest.

She took it with a mischievous grin, aiming the camera at him. “Smile!” she exclaimed.

The loud ka-chik of the camera shutter echoed through the room as the picture was snapped—a perfect shot of Sasuke, looking completely unimpressed, seated behind a table full of carefully prepared food. He hadn’t even tried to mask his scowl. Satisfied, Sakura handed the phone back to him.

Sasuke glanced at the photo briefly, his expression unreadable, before slipping the phone into his pocket.

“That was stupid,” he muttered, his bluntness almost a reflex by now. The curt way he spoke, especially when it came to things like this, was something Sakura had grown used to over time.

“Don’t delete it, Uchiha-san,” Sakura insisted, her voice firm with a hint of affection. “It’s a good moment to save!” She grinned, leaning back in her seat. “I did the same when I cooked a meal all by myself the first time. You’ll want to look back on it someday.”

Sakura had told this story before, recounting how she had learned to cook by assisting her father in the kitchen. And now she had passed on that same method to Sasuke, guiding him through the steps while letting him find his own way.

“Eat,” Sasuke prompted, though his own utensil remained untouched. Instead, he watched intently from beneath the curtain of his bangs, his gaze following Sakura as she took a bite of the pork and rice, savoring the combination with quiet concentration.

She chewed thoroughly, unaware of the subtle shift in Sasuke’s posture—how he leaned forward slightly, sitting on his heels as if waiting for her reaction.

“How is it?” 

Sakura’s eyes lit up. “It’s really good!” she exclaimed, nodding vigorously to emphasize her delight. There was no hesitation in her words; it was exactly what she felt.

She had never felt so lucky to be stuck with someone like Sasuke. He was weird in some aspects if the tomato in his miso is of any indication (although hers did not have any thankfully), but her roommate had a surprising way of being considerate.  

Satisfied with Sakura’s reaction, Sasuke leaned back in his chair, finally digging into his own food. As he ate, he found himself quietly observing her, noting how she savored every bite with a contented smile. Watching her enjoy his cooking made him realize why Sakura loved cooking so much. He took another bite, letting the flavors settle on his tongue as a quiet sense of pride swelled within him. The moment felt perfect, like a small victory. 

“Are you sure you’re not secretly a professional chef or something?” She asked, picking up a piece of radish that her clumsy self couldn’t have cut as masterfully. “I mean, look at this.”

Sasuke’s gaze flickered to the radish, but it didn’t stay. Sasuke attributed his newfound culinary ability to Sakura's excellent teaching, although his knife skills came from a different source. From a young age, his traditional father had drilled him in the use of blades. The discipline had been as much mental as it was physical.

He hadn’t shared any of this information with Sakura, however. Sasuke didn’t think he had any reason to, much to Sakura’s unspoken disappointment. 

Sakura enjoyed talking and oversharing, and Sasuke had gotten used to it over the months. She was an open book, eager to share her thoughts even if he didn’t always ask. In fact, it was during one of their quiet evenings together that she revealed that although she loves her hometown, she has bigger dreams that can only be realized in the city. Her family gets by fine enough, but the price tag to live in the city was way higher. She was using all the money she saved to chase her dream in Tokyo, a risky decision her mother didn’t support. 

In contrast, Sasuke kept his reasons for staying in the apartment well hidden. The questions about his own past were always met with short answers, a slight change in posture, or a change of subject. All Sakura had managed to learn was that he had been born in the city and preferred not to talk about his family or personal life in general. She often found him frustratingly closed off, but over time, she’d learned to respect his silence.

There were just some things Sasuke didn’t think he could ever share with Sakura. The walls he had built around his past were too strong and carefully constructed to let anyone—especially her—see behind them. If only she knew that there was a very good reason for his silence, for the way he kept his personal life at a distance.

This daily routine with her had become the one constant, the one normal thing in his life. If he opened up and truly shared everything he kept hidden, it would shatter the fragile balance they had built together.

And Sasuke wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

Chapter Text

The first time, Sasuke dismissed it as an oversight, an anomaly in an otherwise orderly life. The second time, he rationalized it—perhaps she was simply overwhelmed with something urgent. But by the third evening in a row, as he stepped into the main room to find the tatami floor littered with open books, loose papers, and Sakura’s scattered belongings, irritation rippled through him. The faint scent of floral soap lingered in the air, tracing her recent movement, and he heard the soft slap of hurried footsteps as Sakura emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair sticking to her flushed cheeks.

“Uchiha-san, you’re back early!” She blurted, her voice rising a pitch higher, trying to divert his attention from the source of annoyance. 

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed, his tone colder than the November wind. “I always come back at this time.”

“Right, of course,” she stammered, darting toward the mess. “Sorry about this, let me just…” Her hands fumbled as she hastily gathered her scattered belongings, the soft rustle of paper and thud of books punctuating her nervous energy.

Sasuke’s sharp gaze flicked past her, catching sight of the bathroom she’d just vacated. The sink, barely visible beneath the clutter, was a chaotic mosaic of cosmetics, hair ties, and half-used bottles of skincare products.

Had he been too lenient in enforcing their rules? Was this growing disarray a sign that she had become so at ease in their shared space that she felt entitled to blur the lines they’d set?

Things had been going better than he’d anticipated when they first became roommates. For the most part, she was respectful, cheerful even—qualities he grudgingly appreciated. But moments like these reminded him of the inherent challenges of sharing a space with the opposite sex—especially one as messy and sometimes scatterbrained as Sakura. It wasn’t just the physical chaos that grated on him; it was the unpredictability, the way her carelessness could unravel the carefully maintained order of his life.

Letting out a low sigh of frustration, Sasuke turned toward the front door, his hand brushing through his hair as if to comb out his irritation. Staying there any longer would only stoke the fire simmering in his chest. He’d rather step out, clear his head, and let Sakura deal with the mess without his disapproving presence looming over her. A quick trip to buy some snacks would do; the breeze might even cool his mood.

The soft click of the door echoed in the quiet hallway as it closed behind him, but before he could take more than a few steps, a muffled thud came from within the apartment, followed by a sharp curse that was unmistakably Sakura’s. He paused briefly, his lips tightening as if debating whether to go back and check, but instead, he shook his head disapprovingly and headed down the stairs. 

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Living together in a small apartment meant Sasuke and Sakura had quickly developed unspoken strategies to avoid unnecessary conflicts and respect each other’s space. For the most part, they had been successful at maintaining a harmonious living arrangement over the past month—aside from Sakura’s tendency to leave her belongings scattered in the main room or cluttering the bathroom sink, that is. While Sasuke found this habit undeniably irritating, he couldn’t deny that she made an effort to clean up quickly whenever he was around, as if sensing his silent disapproval.

Sasuke would admit, if only to himself, that he could be rigid—strict with himself and, inevitably, with others. Sharing a space like this wasn’t easy, especially since it was the first time either of them had lived with a roommate, let alone in such a cramped apartment. His own habits of meticulous cleanliness stemmed from years of his father’s uncompromising discipline, where order wasn’t just expected—it was demanded.

Sakura’s carefree, almost haphazard approach to life, on the other hand, was something of a shock to his system. Her relaxed attitude, her apparent indifference to clutter, was so at odds with the environment he had grown up in. But then, perhaps it made sense. She had been raised in a small village, far from the rigid expectations he had always known. Her way of living, messy as it seemed to him, carried a kind of lightness he couldn’t quite understand—and maybe even envied, just a little.

Dealing with shedding wasn’t something Sasuke had anticipated when agreeing to a female roommate either. Her presence lingered in the form of pink strands of hair that turned up everywhere—on his clothes, tangled in the corners of the seats, or glinting on the apartment floor in the afternoon light. It was an odd reminder of how entwined their lives had become in this small space. No matter how much he tried to focus on his own life, Sasuke kept finding himself looking over at her direction, and that was how it only took him two days to notice something was off with her. 

He already found it weird that she was on her phone most of the night. The next morning, she would emerge looking pale and bleary-eyed, her movements sluggish as if weighed down by an invisible burden. For most college students, this might not seem unusual—burning the midnight oil wasn’t exactly groundbreaking. But Sakura wasn’t most college students. 

Despite the easygoing way she led, Sakura had always approached her studies with unwavering focus, powered by a healthy diet and a rigid sleep schedule that kept her sharp and on top of her game. This sudden shift—a night of restless distraction, followed by mornings where she dragged herself through the day like a ghost of her usual self—was entirely out of character.

When she greeted him after he returned from classes, her voice was flat, and her eyes weren’t even looking at him. 

For two days, she was like a zombie, her energy depleted, her vibrancy dulled. Sasuke tried to ignore it at first, telling himself it wasn’t his business, but the gnawing concern refused to let him be. By the third night, he finally figured out what was wrong.

Almost like it has become a habit, Sakura brought her phone to bed again that night, tucking it beneath the covers in an attempt to avoid disturbing him. Sasuke had seen her call and text her friends and family before, but this was different. Her thumbs were swiping upward like she was scrolling through something endless, although he couldn’t tell what she was so interested in that she couldn’t put the phone down at night. 

“Why are you doing that?” Sasuke asked, his voice cutting through the soft rustle of the covers.

Sakura froze for a moment, startled, before slowly popping her head out from under the blanket. Her wide eyes met his in the dim light. “Doing what, Uchiha-san?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper, a feigned innocence lacing her tone.

Sasuke pointed toward the general area where he guessed her phone was hidden. “Are you not planning to go to sleep?”

Sakura hesitated before admitting, “I’m trying.”

The furrow in Sasuke’s brow deepened. He knew something was off, but it hadn’t clicked until now. His eyes swept around the room, searching for the source of the unease, and then it hit him.

“Where’s your slug lamp?”

Sakura flashed him an embarrassed smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, directing his gaze toward the shelves where her broken lamp sat, deprived of its soft, golden glow.  

“I broke it while cleaning,” she confessed, the words tumbling out in a voice that sounded far younger than her years—like she was afraid of being scolded by her mother.

Sasuke’s mind flashed back to the crash he’d heard through the door the other day when he told her to clean up. 

“Can’t you just buy a new one?” he asked, though he immediately regretted the question as soon as the words left his mouth.

Sakura’s gaze shifted away, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket. “I don’t exactly have extra money lying around.”

Besides, unless she can pay to get it fixed, which seems unlikely given how damaged it was, Sakura didn’t want to buy another lamp to replace something that was brought by and reminded her of a cherished friend.  

Sakura’s answer gave Sasuke pause. For a brief second, he had been looking at the situation solely from his own perspective. When he broke something, he could afford to simply replace it without a second thought. But Sakura wasn’t in the same position. The disparity in their financial situations hadn’t fully registered with him before now.

Sasuke would hate it, but if he really wanted to, he could borrow money from Itachi to buy her a new lamp. Still, that won’t help solve the predicament right now. He needed to find another way.

“Do you always sleep with it?” Sasuke asked, his voice softening just slightly.

“Most of the time,” Sakura answered quietly.

“And the other times?”

She hesitated, her gaze drifting as she thought back. “I used to sleep right next to my brother, so it wasn’t as scary.”

The admission caught Sasuke off guard. For someone as open as Sakura, it struck him as odd that she’d never mentioned a brother before, but he didn’t push. Instead, Sasuke rolled his eyes, recalling their second night in the apartment when she’d stubbornly insisted that her need for the lamp had nothing to do with her fear of the dark or ghosts.

“How is that different from this?” Sasuke asked, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and annoyance. “We’re literally sleeping in the same room.”

Sakura shifted uncomfortably, her fingers nervously pulling at the edges of the blanket. “But with how dark it is, I can’t even tell you’re here if I can’t hear you.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, his patience thinning. “Meaning?”

There was a brief silence where Sakura struggled to voice her thoughts. Her usual ease with talking was nowhere to be found.

Finally, she whispered, so quietly that Sasuke almost thought he hadn’t heard her correctly. “You’re too far away…”

When Sakura didn’t say anything more, Sasuke took advantage of the silence settling between them again to make sense of her logic. “So… you can only sleep without the lamp if you… sleep close to someone?”

Sakura’s reaction was immediate. She shot up in her futon, eyes wide with panic. “No! I mean, yes, technically, but as I’ve said, I’ve only ever slept next to my brother,” she stammered, her face flushing with embarrassment. She could feel how childish and strange her explanation sounded.

Sasuke, still processing her words, couldn’t quite understand the logic behind her reasoning. If she was so afraid of ghosts or the dark, then surely having anyone beside her should be enough to ease her fears and help her sleep. Why did it matter if that person wasn’t her brother?

“How is it different with me?” Sasuke asked, his voice lower now.

“I-it’s not,” Sakura stammered, though her voice wavered, and she wasn’t sure if she was being entirely truthful. “But I’ve troubled you enough already… I’ll just stay on my phone until I can’t stay awake anymore.”

Sasuke couldn’t help but find the flaw in her logic—and the solution she’d come up with bizarre and stupid, but he figured that was what happened when your brain didn’t get enough sleep. He had thought he made it clear to Sakura that she could ask him for help, but it seemed like she hadn’t fully trusted him yet. Or maybe his earlier irritation at her messy habits was preventing her from feeling comfortable enough to ask. Either way, she would be tripping over her things and bumping into doors another day if she didn’t get a proper sleep tonight. The last thing he wanted was to deal with broken dishes or, worse, knives cutting her while she did her chores.

Making up his mind, Sasuke let out a quiet sigh. “You’re really going to do that?” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure if the question was directed at her or at himself.

Sakura’s eyes widened when she saw her roommate slowly getting up from his futon, dragging it across the floor toward her side of the room. “What are you doing?” she asked in alarm, her voice rising with confusion.

Sasuke glanced at her when he was done with his task, his expression unreadable. “Is this close enough?” His voice betrayed no emotion, though the words carried an undercurrent of something that Sakura couldn’t quite place.

The futons were now positioned so close that they were nearly touching, separated only by the sliver of light that managed to sneak through the curtained window. Sakura stared at the space between them, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. Her mind raced for a response, but all she could do was pull the blanket up to her nose and give a small, noncommittal nod.

Sasuke, interpreting her lack of explosive reaction as an acceptance, settled back under his own blanket, the silence hanging between them.

Sakura’s voice, softer than before, broke the quiet. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

Sasuke didn’t immediately respond. He turned his back to her, the soft rustling of the blanket the only sound in the room. “No. Go to sleep,” he replied, his voice calm but with a hint of finality.

Not wanting to disturb her roommate further, Sakura reluctantly tried to settle into sleep. Maybe Sasuke wasn’t lying when he said he was comfortable. The reason they were lying so far apart had been her doing, after all—she had made such a big deal about the proximity. Sakura never actually asked for his opinion, and she imagined Sasuke probably didn’t care about who he slept next to or how close they were, as much as she did. She’d been careful, cautious, living with a stranger. But in hindsight, she realized she hadn’t approached it with the kind of tact she should have.

Sasuke probably didn’t hold any interest in her to begin with. The thought struck her unexpectedly, a sharp, unwelcome pang tugging at her chest. She quickly pushed it aside, but the feeling lingered—a reminder of how little she truly knew about him, and perhaps, how little she meant to him.

Yet, as Sakura’s gaze drifted toward Sasuke’s visible back, bathed in the faint moonlight, another thought emerged. Maybe… She hesitated, her mind working through the uncertainty. Perhaps she could put a little more trust in him. Maybe he wasn’t as heartless and distant as he often made himself out to be. The idea felt almost foreign, but something about the quiet, still night gave her a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe…

That night, Sakura had some trouble controlling her heartbeat. The closeness of the futons, the stillness in the room, made her acutely aware of every small movement, every shift of air. But despite the racing of her pulse, she eventually managed to fall asleep. The new sleeping arrangement, though awkward at first, brought a sense of comfort she hadn’t expected, and Sakura found herself sleeping soundly in that small apartment for many nights after.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke, like his roommate, wasn’t a morning person. The only reason he forced himself to wake up early was because he couldn’t stand the thought of waiting for his turn in the bathroom—especially not after Sakura. Despite her best efforts to be more considerate, her messy habits still managed to grate on him. The clutter she left behind was impossible to ignore, and her tendency to ramble made it harder for him to find the quiet moments he so desperately needed every now and again.

As he gradually emerged from his slumber, Sasuke reminded himself of the brief respite he would find in the bathroom to gather his thoughts and prepare for the day ahead without constant chatter or distractions. The sleep from the night before hadn’t been terrible, he noted, as he slowly adjusted to the feel of the futon beneath him. But something felt… off.

It took Sasuke a moment to place it, but as his senses gradually sharpened in the stillness of the morning, he became aware of an unusual weight on his left arm. Assuming he had slept in an awkward position, Sasuke slowly cracked his eyes open, expecting to see the familiar sight of his surroundings. But instead, all he could see was a soft, delicate shade of pink.

A familiar fragrance filled his nostrils—a floral scent of cherry blossoms, the same one that lingered after Sakura’s showers. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, his senses quickly became more acute, and his muscles tensed as confusion gave way to sudden realization. His gaze dropped, and his eyes widened slightly as he stared at the crown of his roommate’s head, which rested softly against his arm, using it as a makeshift pillow.

For a moment, time seemed to slow as Sasuke tried to process the situation he had found himself in. The unexpected closeness, the quiet rhythm of her breathing—it all felt surreal. His mind raced to make sense of it all, but the only thing he could focus on was the strange, unexpected warmth of her presence.

As his heart raced in his chest, Sasuke tried to will himself to calm down. But the more he thought about how close they were—how she could very likely hear the rapid beating of his heart—the more his anxiety grew. 

Her hot breath fanned across his neck, and the soft, warm press of her body against his sent his thoughts into a dizzying spiral. His body tensed, every instinct screaming at him to move, to create some distance between them, but his muscles refused to obey. He tried to think clearly, but all he could do was freeze, his gaze fixed blankly on the ceiling, as Sakura nuzzled even closer to him.

How had they found themselves in this peculiar situation so early in the morning? He didn’t even want to imagine her reaction if she ever found out about this. 

Given the risks and uncertainties for a girl to be living with him, Sasuke understood why Sakura had been cautious of him in the beginning. He’d respected that wariness, kept his distance, and always made sure not to give her any reason to feel uncomfortable. He would never do anything she might consider… predatory. The very thought of taking advantage of her trust was repugnant to him, something he couldn’t even entertain. He had always respected her need for space, maintaining the distance she preferred.

So why, then, had he been so quick to offer to be her ‘emotional support lamp’ last night? What had possessed him to step beyond that invisible line they’d drawn? Especially when, deep down, he’d known there was a chance—no matter how slim—that they might end up like this? This—her warmth pressed against him, her breath tickling his skin—was a situation that felt too intimate, too fragile to handle.

Perhaps he felt bad for making her sleep with her head under the blanket for weeks. Maybe he felt partially responsible for the broken lamp—though deep down, he knew it was a stretch to blame himself for that. After all, all he had done was ask her to clean up. But then again, Sakura seemed particularly sensitive to his irritation, and that could have led her to be more careless in her haste. 

Of course, Sakura should be picking up after herself regardless, but she was improving slowly and his nagging certainly didn’t help. 

He had to be patient, especially in any situations that involved Sakura. His mind had to stay clear, his composure intact. 

Taking a deep breath, Sasuke forced himself to steady his thoughts. Slowly, cautiously, he freed his arm from beneath her head, every movement calculated to avoid disturbing her peaceful slumber. As he shifted, his roommate rolled onto her back but—thankfully—remained deeply asleep, except it created another issue. 

The movement caused her oversized shirt, the one she loved to wear with shorts as pajamas, to ride up slightly, exposing the smooth skin of her waist, unguarded in the soft morning light. The moment he realized where his gaze had wandered, his breath hitched, and he quickly turned his attention away, trying to ignore the sudden, unwanted surge of awareness. It was just an accident—nothing more. Yet, his mind couldn’t fully rid itself of the image.

Sakura, oblivious to the situation, continued to sleep soundly, but Sasuke couldn’t help but notice how this had become a recurring pattern in the mornings. He had no idea how she had been raised specifically, but from what he could tell, Sakura had grown up with a certain carefree nature, one that made her completely unguarded, judging at her unladylike sleeping position at the moment. Both her arms were flung carelessly above her head and one of her legs bent at an odd angle, as though she were in the middle of some awkward dance move.

It wasn’t an attractive pose per se—certainly not anything that would be considered graceful or poised. But Sasuke had never been in a situation like this with another girl, and he found himself at a loss. There was something disarming about how completely defenseless she seemed, vulnerable in a way that made him feel strangely unsettled. He’d always prided himself on keeping a level head, but this… this was different.

The first few times, Sasuke tried to ignore it, convincing himself it was just an innocent quirk of Sakura’s sleeping habits. But each morning, when he returned from the bathroom after freshening up, he would often find her sprawled out in the same awkward position, oblivious to how exposed she was. Despite his efforts to cover her up discreetly with the blanket every time, she would eventually kick it off in her sleep, leaving her bare to the room once more.

It was a futile gesture, but Sasuke unceremoniously threw the blanket back over her anyway. What he needed to focus on was ignoring the blush creeping up his neck as he made his way to the bathroom. The cold water would have to be enough to cool his flustered face.

Chapter Text

The last thing Sasuke expected to come home to that day was the sight of his roommate standing in the main room, wrapped in nothing but her bath towel. But here he was. 

Sakura had turned sharply at the creak of the opening door. Her eyes were wide, green pools reflecting a mix of embarrassment and frozen shock as they locked onto his, mirroring his atonishment. 

His pulse thundered in his ears, an unbidden heat rising in his chest as her presence consumed the space between them. Sakura’s fingers clenched the edge of her towel, knuckles whitening as if the thin fabric could somehow shield her from the weight of his gaze. But the small, almost imperceptible movement only seemed to draw his attention further, his eyes trailing—despite himself—to the subtle tremor of her hands and the way the towel molded to her frame.

The soft fabric clung to her damp skin, beads of water catching the light and tracing delicate paths down the curve of her shoulders and the gentle slope of her neck. Her scent, faintly floral and warm like freshly bloomed cherry blossom, drifted through the air. 

The old front door groaned ominously as it closed slowly behind him, sealing their awkward predicament that seemed almost theatrical.

For a brief, suspended moment, neither moved nor spoke. It was as if time had paused, holding them in a tableau of mutual disbelief. Then, with a sharp, decisive click, the door shut, dispelling the silence like a spell breaking. The abrupt sound jolted Sakura into action, her face flushing a deep crimson. In a flurry of movement, she bolted forward—straight toward him—her damp hair bouncing with each hurried step. Sasuke could only stand frozen, his eyes widened in startled confusion, until she veered sharply away, darting toward the bathroom.

Her towel billowed behind her like a fluttering banner, clinging to her form one moment and threatening to slip the next. The bathroom door was quickly slammed shut, leaving Sasuke alone in the sudden stillness. 

Left standing in the tiny entranceway, Sasuke remained frozen in place, his mind struggling to process the whirlwind that had just unfolded.

Finally exhaling the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Sasuke bent down to unlace his shoes, his fingers fumbling slightly as if the simple task required all his concentration. Each movement was deliberate, yet his mind remained miles away, fixated on the vivid image of Sakura in her towel. His heart continued to pound relentlessly, the echo of the moment reverberating through him.

Unbeknownst to him, Sakura was on the other side of the bathroom door, leaning against it with her own hand pressed to her racing heart. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—embarrassment at being caught off-guard, a tinge of nervousness at what Sasuke might be thinking, and a surprising rush of something deeper that she couldn't quite identify.

With quick, determined strides, Sasuke moved past the bathroom, each step filled with an urgency he couldn't quite shake, half-expected the bathroom door to swing open at any moment. His heart continued to pound in his chest, the adrenaline from the unexpected encounter coursing through him.

Entering the main room, Sasuke's eyes fell upon the spot on the tatami mat where Sakura had stood moments ago. A few drops of water glistened on its woven surface. Normally, such a sight would have elicited irritation, but now he found himself so distracted that he couldn't even muster the energy to be angry at the culprit.

Typically, their apartment hummed with the familiar sounds of daily life—the low murmur of voices, the occasional clatter of dishes, and the comforting background noise of shared space. The walls were thin enough that Sasuke could often discern the sound of water running in the bathroom or the faint clinking of bottles on the countertop. These everyday noises had become a backdrop to their cohabitation, a reassuring reminder of their presence in each other's lives.

But now, in the aftermath of their unexpected encounter, the apartment seemed unnaturally still. 

Just what was his roommate doing in there?

Sasuke's heart leapt into his throat when he heard the bathroom door creaking open, the sound cutting through the oppressive silence like a sharp blade. His hand grew clammy against his side as he straightened up, his mind racing with uncertainty. 

Against his better judgment, he turned towards the sound, bracing himself for what he expected to be an accusatory Sakura standing in the kitchen, ready to confront the awkwardness between them. Instead, his eyes widened in surprise as he saw Sakura's pleading face peering out from the partially open bathroom door.

“Uchiha-san, can you... grab me a shirt?”

Sakura's voice broke through the tense silence, her request hanging in the air like a fragile thread. Sasuke's eyes instinctively flicked towards the open closet where his roommate’s clothes lay neatly folded. In that moment, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It would appear that his roommate had simply forgotten to bring in a change of clothes to the bathroom, and he had unwittingly arrived home at the most unfortunate time.

“Sure,” he replied after what seemed like eternity, glad that his voice wasn't accurately reflecting how nervous he actually was. 

Suddenly, Sasuke found himself on autopilot as he moved toward the closet. He managed to grab a random shirt from the top of the pile, but in his distraction state, he was certain he couldn’t recall what color it was or even if it belonged to Sakura in the first place. 

Unable to bring himself to cross into the kitchen area where Sakura was, Sasuke positioned himself at the very end of the main room, his arm outstretched with the shirt in hand. He kept his gaze fixed on a point somewhere on the wall, intentionally avoiding looking in Sakura’s direction. His intention was to preserve her modesty by maintaining a respectful distance, but in doing so, he inadvertently made it difficult for Sakura to reach the shirt.

From across the room, Sakura hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as she realized Sasuke’s gesture required her to extend further than expected. She shifted uncomfortably, the awkwardness of the situation lingering between them like a tangible barrier. With a small sigh, she took a hesitant step forward, her fingers just grazing the fabric of the shirt before finally securing her hold on it.

“Thank you,” Sakura squeaked out shyly before retreating once more behind the closed bathroom door.

The apartment fell into a brief silence before Sasuke could hear faint rustling of clothes emanating from the bathroom, reintroducing a small sense of normality back into the apartment. It was only then that Sasuke plopped down at their table, finally allowing himself to release the tension that had coiled within him since he had walked through the door. His movements were now sluggish, as if energy had been drained from his body. His mind buzzed with thoughts that he struggled to untangle.

First it was her exposed waist; now it was forgotten clothes. Sasuke should've known he would encounter precarious situations like these when he agreed to live in such close proximity with the opposite gender. He was at least 90 percent sure his roommates weren't doing any of this on purpose, but the remaining 10 percent nag at him. 

Things would only be awkward if they allowed it to be. The smart thing to do was not dwell on it and pretend like it wasn’t a big deal. Yet despite his determination to move on, he found himself unable to shake the vivid image from his mind—the sight of Sakura’s damp, flushed face down to her bare collarbones—the memory lingering like an uninvited guest.

Sasuke leaned back in his chair, his gaze unfocused as it drifted to some invisible point in the distance. His fingers raked through his dark hair, lingering for a moment as if the pressure might somehow ease the chaotic storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. A slow, deliberate exhale escaped him. It was maddening—how a fleeting encounter could unravel him so completely.

How is this fair?

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke’s head snapped up abruptly in alarm as a piercing scream echoed from the bathroom,  spurring him to his feet in an instant. Without a second thought, he bolted toward the bathroom to investigate. The moment he rounded the corner, he collided with the source of the scream herself—Sakura.

The impact sent them both tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. In a flash of instinct, Sasuke’s hand shot out, his hand gripping Sakura’s arm firmly as he pulled her toward him. They hit the floor with a grunt, Sasuke taking the brunt of the fall. 

For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of their breathing. He couldn’t even get a word out before his roommate beat him to it.

“The bathroom! It’s in the bathroom!” Sakura’s voice trembled as she clutched the towel tighter, her green eyes wide with panic, tears brimming at the edges. Her words came out in a frantic rush: “I saw it on the wall, and it flew at me! It was disgusting! So disgusting! You have to get rid of it, Uchiha-san!” 

But Sasuke barely registered her plea. Instead, he quickly became acutely aware of the situation: the towel was the only thing protecting Sakura’s modesty, and from his vantage point, he had a startlingly clear view of the top of her damp chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Each droplet of water from her damp hair that landed on his shirt felt like a brand, soaking into the fabric and searing itself into his awareness. Her proximity was overwhelming, a vivid realization that seemed to magnify every detail—the warmth radiating from her skin, still flushed from the shower, and the soft smoothness of her skin beneath his fingertips.

He had always known she was short and petite, but never before had he given thought to how light she was until she was essentially lying on top of him like she belonged there. The thought sent a jolt through his chest that tightened his grip momentarily before he caught himself. His gaze darted upward, lingering unbidden on the fullness of her lips. Were they always so juicy and inviting?

A rush of heat flared in his cheeks, and he clenched his jaw, forcing his thoughts into submission.

“G-get off!” he stammered, his voice betraying his disarray as he hastily shifted, rolling her off him. The abrupt movement earned a startled yelp from Sakura as she tumbled to the floor, clutching her towel with both hands to keep it in place. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he barked, more harshly than intended as he sat up, refusing to meet her gaze. His heart was still pounding, and he silently cursed himself for losing his composure, for letting her get under his skin so easily.

“Cockroach, Uchiha-san! There’s a cockroach this big in the bathroom!” Sakura cried, her voice shrill with lingering panic as she stretched her hands apart to illustrate a size that could rival a small animal. The gesture was so exaggerated it bordered on comical, but her wide, tear-brimmed eyes made it clear she wasn’t joking.

Sasuke blinked, momentarily taken aback by the absurdity of her outburst. He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes in exasperation. But against his better judgment, he found it almost... endearing.

Despite his initial doubt, Sasuke pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the bathroom, if only to occupy his mind and dispel the adrenaline coursing through him. But before he could take more than a step, the sight of Sakura stopped him cold.

She sat at his feet, gazing up at him with wide, pleading eyes that shimmered with vulnerability. Her damp hair clung to her flushed cheeks, and the thin bath towel she clutched around herself barely extended past her mid-thigh, leaving far too much of her pale skin exposed. The curve of her shoulder, the delicate line of her collarbone—it all felt too much, too sudden.

Sasuke’s heart slammed against his ribcage, refusing to slow despite his attempts to force calm into his breathing. He swallowed hard, the motion almost audible, and quickly averted his gaze. Heat crept up his neck and into his face from the unexpected awareness stirring inside him—a sensation he neither welcomed nor knew how to control.

How did it go from her asking for a shirt from the bathroom to literally throwing herself at him in nothing but a bath towel?

He quickly strode into the bathroom, hoping the cool, enclosed space would help him regain some semblance of composure. His eyes swept the room, scanning for anything out of place. The cream-colored walls were clean, unmarred by any sign of the dark-colored, winged intruder, and all their hygiene items were neatly arranged on the counter.

His gaze drifted lower to the sink countertop, landing on a set of clothes Sakura had not forgotten to take with her this time. Her pajamas were folded neatly underneath her under—Sasuke looked away before he could even dare to finish that observation, wincing at his own carelessness.

“I don’t see anything,” Sasuke announced, though he wasn’t sure if he was referring to the pest anymore. 

“That can’t be! It was just here!” Sakura’s voice cracked with a mix of frustration and lingering fear, her words quick and sharp, as if trying to will the cockroach back into existence. 

Without hesitation, she rushed toward Sasuke. He promptly stepped back, his muscles taut with the need for a healthy distance between them, necessary for his own sanity if nothing else. The faint, floral scent of her shampoo reached him, mingling with the faint trace of panic in her scent, but the sight of her delicate nape—soft and pale, partially concealed by her pink hair—did little to soothe the uneasy flutter in his chest.

Sakura‘s eyes darted around the bathroom as if expecting the insect to leap out at any second. Her fingers gripped the towel so tightly, the edges threatening to tear under the strain, her face twisted in a mixture of anxiety and disbelief.

Just as Sasuke had reported, the sneaky cockroach had indeed fled the scene, leaving nothing but the suble traces of its unwelcome presence, much to Sakura’s horror. As the realization slowly sank in for Sakura, her wide eyes continued to scan every shadow with mounting dread.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, as she stood frozen. Finally, Sasuke cleared his throat, the sound startling in the stillness.

“You should... put on some clothes,” Sasuke reminded her gently, his tone careful. Though he was not expecting her answer to be a disbelief and definite: “I’m not changing in there.”

All Sasuke could do was offer a silent nod of acceptance and resignation, his eyes flicking toward the door of their apartment as he consciously turned his back to her, his posture rigid with restraint. He focused intently on the simple action of staying in place, as Sakura opted to change in the main room instead. The rustling sound of clothes, subtle at first, became an unwelcome whisper in the air, stirring his imagination and setting his pulse a little faster.

Once she was fully dressed, Sakura turned to him, her voice sharp with determination. “Uchiha-san, we need to go find it!”

Sasuke’s shoulders tensed at the urgency in her tone, but he tactfully sidestepped her as she approached him. Instead, he made his way to the closet, gathered his bedding, and unrolled his futon on the floor with a tired sigh.

"It's already late,” Sasuke replied firmly, determined to stick to his routine and move on from this whole situation.

“But how can you go to sleep knowing there’s a cockroach in the apartment?” Sakura persisted; the mere thought of it caused her to shudder visibly. “What if it crawls on you while you’re sleeping?” 

“Why would it crawl on me if it knows it can’t eat me?” Sasuke retorted logically.

“I don’t know! It crawled on me earlier!” Sakura exclaimed, her voice rising with anxiety.

“Did you use soap while you were in there?” Sasuke asked, knowing fully well she did. The floral scent was all he could smell when she was on top of him.

“Of course I did!” Sakura snapped, her frustration rising as she crossed her arms, but the sharpness of her outburst quickly faded. Her expression softened, and a moment of quiet hesitation passed between them.

Fearing that she would trouble him, Sakura usually refrained from asking Sasuke for help unless she was certain it was something he would normally do himself. Similarly, Sasuke didn’t mind doing her a favor if the request wasn’t too demanding or inconvenient, but he was too exhausted to even entertain the idea tonight. Besides, there was not much incentive for him when Sasuke couldn’t help but find her disappointed pout kind of cute.

Unable to find a convincing counterargument, Sakura sighed in exasperation. With a frustrated stomp of her foot, she crawled under her blanket. Sasuke, with one last glance at her, turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness.

As she lay there, unable to see in the darkness, or more likely refusing to look at him, Sasuke deliberately made some noises as he settled into his futon. The rustling of blankets was a subtle reminder that he was right next to her.

Sasuke couldn’t fathom why she was angry at him. From his perspective, there seemed to be no logical reason to search for a critter whose whereabouts were unknown. If the cockroach did manage to crawl on them while they slept, it wasn't like they’d notice.

If anything, Sasuke felt like he should be the one angry at her. How dare she catch him off guard like that and then leave her floral scent to linger all over his shirt? Now he couldn’t close his eyes without the vivid image of her on top of him replaying in his mind. 

It must have been some sort of curse, he thought bitterly. His heightened senses and near photographic memory, usually so reliable, only seemed to torment him as he struggled to find peace in the presence of this oblivious girl he shared his living space with.

Turning onto his side, Sasuke exhaled heavily, trying to push aside the thoughts that threatened to consume him. He clenched his jaw, feeling a mix of frustration and an unfamiliar sensation he couldn’t quite define.

As time dragged on, Sasuke lay there for what felt like an eternity, his brain refusing to let him find solace in sleep. The minutes ticked by relentlessly. Sakura, on the other hand, had gone completely still within the hour. The soft sound of her breathing filled the tiny apartment, calming in its simplicity. Sasuke found it maddening. She was completely unbothered, unaware of the storm raging inside him.

How could she be so… careless? So annoying?

For someone who had been so adamant about finding the cockroach, she sure seemed to have an easy time falling asleep compared to him. Sasuke couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration at the stark contrast between her peaceful slumber and his own restless state.

Agitated, Sasuke poked his roommate’s blanket with his foot, and Sakura predictably jolted from her futon, shrieking at the top of her lungs about the return of the elusive critter.

Sasuke sighed inwardly, his eyes flicking toward the wall, already anticipating the consequences of the chaos. He could almost hear the inevitable noise complaint that would come in the morning. But at least now, both of them were having trouble falling asleep.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke had tried to delay it for as long as he could, but the visit was inevitable. 

Despite his best efforts to remain hidden, he knew it was only a matter of time before Itachi uncovered the whereabouts of his apartment. In fact, if Itachi grew suspicious enough, he wouldn’t hesitate to show up unannounced, and Sasuke wasn’t sure if he was ready for that confrontation yet.

One way or another, if Itachi was coming, Sasuke decided he might as well be prepared when the moment arrived.

Fortunately, today seemed to offer a small window of respite. Sakura had made plans to meet her classmates at a café for a group study session, so she wouldn’t be home until after lunch. So, as soon as she left, Sasuke wasted no time and sprang into action.

Sasuke meticulously scanned the apartment, his sharp gaze moving from one corner to the next. Every inch of the space needed to be inspected. Items that could betray Sakura’s presence—personal belongings, clothing, anything that might scream ‘someone else lives here’—were swiftly stashed out of sight. Even the smallest oversight could expose him, and Sasuke knew better than anyone how keen Itachi’s eyes were. 

Methodically, Sasuke erased every trace of Sakura from the apartment. He tucked away her books, rearranged her shoes, and stored her toiletries out of sight. Every picture, every keepsake, and every sign of her existence in his life was hidden away. By the time he was finished, it would appear—at least at first glance—that no one else had ever stepped foot in this apartment but him. 

As Sasuke surveyed the space one final time, his chest tightened in an odd, uncomfortable way. The apartment felt emptier now, quieter than usual, stripped of the girllish, familiar touches that had given it warmth—that made it feel like home. The sight unsettled him more than he cared to admit, but he didn’t let himself linger on the thought. Taking a steady breath, Sasuke grabbed his coat and stepped out to join his brother for brunch.

Unfortunately, when Sasuke returned to the apartment with Itachi in tow, his stomach dropped at the sight that greeted him. Sakura was stomping around the room, muttering under her breath as she furiously attempted to restore her belongings to their “rightful” places after their sudden reorganization.

A cold dread washed over Sasuke as he instinctively glanced at Itachi, who stood silently beside him. His brother’s expression was as calm and unreadable as ever, but Sasuke didn’t miss the faint flicker of awareness in his sharp eyes. He knew Itachi was already piecing things together, his mind working with the same relentless precision that had always unnerved Sasuke.

The sound of the door closing behind them seemed to alert Sakura, and she whirled around. Her green eyes landed on Sasuke, narrowing in a mixture of irritation and determination.

“I thought we agreed not to touch other people's... belongings." Sakura’s voice faltered, the words hanging awkwardly in the air as her gaze shifted to the figure standing beside Sasuke.

Her annoyance was quickly replaced by uncertainty as she took in the man’s presence. He was older than both of them and stood almost half a head taller than Sasuke, but it wasn’t just his height that made him imposing. His demeanor was composed yet quietly commanding. His kind face, framed by long dark hair, was marked with faint creases beneath his sharp, perceptive eyes—lines that spoke of hidden burden. Yet there was no mistaking the resemblance. This man was unquestionably related to Sasuke.

“Um, good morning…?” Sakura greeted hesitantly, unsure of how to proceed as her stance shifted to something more reserved under the man’s quiet scrutiny.

Turning to her roommate, Sakura immediately noticed the tension in Sasuke’s posture. What  she couldn’t understand was why his widened, alarmed eyes were directed at her as if her very presence in her own apartment was an anomaly—an intrusion he hadn’t prepared for. 

Meanwhile, confusion was flooding Sasuke’s mind—had her study group canceled? Ended early?

Before he could think of a solution, Itachi’s calm yet pointed inquiry broke the silence.

“Who’s this, Sasuke?”

The question made Sakura instinctively straighten, but before she could introduce herself, Sasuke’s voice cut in.

“She’s a friend,” he answered swiftly, his tone clipped and defensive.

Sakura blinked in surprise, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. A friend? That was news to her. Last she was made aware, they were simply roommates.

It was indeed a valiant effort on Sasuke’s part to maintain the facade, but it hadn’t occurred to him yet that he had overlooked a crucial detail in his haste. 

“You give your friend your spare key?” Itachi pointed out, raising an elegant eyebrow. He was sure the door was secured when Sasuke unlocked it with his key earlier.

“That’s because she’s my…girlfriend,” Sasuke blurted, his voice faltering ever so slightly, like a stone skimming water before sinking.

The moment the words left his mouth, Sasuke winced, suddenly wishing the floor would swallow him whole. He recognized the feebleness of his attempt to lie, so he avoided meeting Sakura’s gaze, yet he hoped against all odds that she’d pick up on his desperate cue. 

“What are you talking about? We are no—” Sakura began, but the moment Sasuke’s intense gaze locked onto hers, her words faltered. Abruptly, she shifted her stance and changed her tone. She planted her hands on her hips and forced her voice to sound more confident as she took on the role. “—Not… official, yet! I thought we agreed on not telling others?”

Her words hung in the air, louder than she intended, but it was a desperate attempt to regain her balance. Though she was pretending to be annoyed, Sasuke could feel the tension radiating from her. There was an unmistakable flicker of genuine frustration and confusion in the way her shoulders stiffened, the subtle tightening of her jaw. She was upset, not just by the situation but by his carelessness in breaking a rule and catching her off guard.

The silence between them stretched on, thick and uncomfortable. No one moved, no one spoke. Sakura shifted on her feet, the awkwardness of the moment settling in her chest like a stone. Her face flushed slightly, and she coughed to break the tension, her voice suddenly soft and uncertain. 

“Nice to meet you…?” Sakura trailed off, her words dissolving into the thick air, waiting for Sasuke to introduce the stranger. But instead, he merely lifted a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose.

Itachi, on the other hand, simply smiled knowingly, his gaze a quiet mix of amusement and sharp observation as it lingered on Sasuke, as though he were waiting patiently for his younger brother to speak the truth—truths he already knew, perhaps far better than Sasuke himself.

“Let’s just take a seat,” Sasuke muttered, the words escaping with a heavy sigh. He gestured for his brother to enter, then closed the door with a soft thud behind him, sealing them into this uncomfortable new reality.

Unsure of what was going on, Sakura hesitated for a moment before moving to fetch another cushioned seat. When she returned and handed it to Itachi, the man accepted it with the same practiced grace he seemed to carry effortlessly. His fingers brushed against hers briefly, the touch light but charged with something unspoken, before he lowered himself into the seat, offering her a polite ‘thank you’. 

Sasuke, clearly eager to move past the awkwardness, quickly took his place at the opposite side of the table. His posture was rigid, his thoughts racing through his mind as he scrambled to find some way to salvage the situation. Meanwhile, Sakura remained standing awkwardly by the kitchen area, feeling out of place in her own home.

“I’m going to make some tea,” she offered, retreating to the kitchen and busying herself with the kettle. As the water began to heat, she found herself glancing back toward the table, where Sasuke and Itachi sat, seemingly locked in a silent conversation. The intensity between them was palpable, and it creeped Sakura out, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she focused on the task at hand; the steady rhythm of her movements felt like a fragile attempt to reclaim some control.

A few minutes later, Sakura returned, the faint aroma of freshly brewed tea filling the room as she placed a cup in front of Itachi, then one for Sasuke. She lingered for a moment, but as she turned to leave, Sasuke’s voice cut through the quiet, his tone unexpectedly firm.

“You should take a seat, too, Haruno-san.”

The unfamiliar sound of her name on his lips made Sakura pause. Even Sasuke felt weird saying her name like that, and Sakura could tell he was uncomfortable from the way his gaze quickly flicked away. 

Sakura couldn’t remember the last time he’d used her name—if he had at all since they had met—to the point that she was convinced he hardly remembered it. Hearing it now, so formal on his tongue, just seemed so off.

For a brief moment, Sakura considered simply leaving, slipping out of the apartment to escape the tension until Sasuke’s brother finally departed, but she didn’t have the heart to do so when she saw the silent plea in her roommate’s eyes.

With a quiet sigh, Sakura moved to sit between the two brothers. The tatami mat suddenly felt too rough and uncomfortable beneath her.

“Haruno-san,” Itachi greeted, his voice smooth as he gave a small bow. His presence was calm, almost serene, and it only seemed to highlight Sasuke’s restless energy. “I’m Sasuke’s older brother, Uchiha Itachi.”

Sakura returned the gesture, bowing slightly deeper than necessary, her body stiff and mechanical as though she were performing a well-rehearsed act. “I’m Haruno Sakura; nice to meet you,” she managed, her voice steady despite the knot twisting tighter in her stomach.

Not quite sure what the next appropriate move was, her eyes flickered to Sasuke for help. She realized, with growing unease, that she wasn’t even sure who they were pretending to be right now—what story they were supposed to be telling. It felt like being in a play with no script, stumbling through a role she hadn’t prepared for.

Sasuke, ever perceptive, seemed to sense her discomfort almost immediately. Without missing a beat, he stepped in. “As you can see, brother, Haruno-san and I are living together in this apartment.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped in disbelief. What is he doing?

“In other words, we are roommates,” Sasuke continued, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just obliterated their carefully constructed lie.

She shot Sasuke a glare, not expecting Sasuke to abandon their ruse so easily. She thought they were doing a good job convincing Itachi, and now Sasuke had thrown it all away with a few simple words.

Sasuke, however, remained completely unfazed. His gaze stayed locked on Itachi, unwavering and calculating. It was clear to Sakura that while Itachi had been suspicious, Sasuke’s declaration had also caught him off guard. Itachi’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, a flicker of realization crossing his expression, but he said nothing—at least, not yet.

Sakura watched the exchange with a mixture of fascination and quiet concern. Her curiosity was piqued by Sasuke’s decision to so easily and quickly let Itachi in on their secret. Brother or not, this person was either someone Sasuke trusted implicitly or someone who wielded some kind of power over Sasuke. 

“We have both decided to keep this a secret and I need you to do the same,” Sasuke said firmly, his gaze remained locked on Itachi.

Itachi’s expression shifted subtly, his brows knitted together in thought as though he had more to say but chose to hold it back, his sharp eyes flickering toward Sakura for just a moment. There was something calculating in the way he held his silence. Instead of pressing, he tactfully asked, “Isn’t it a bit small for two people?”

“That’s because it wasn’t supposed to be for two people,” Sakura interjected quickly, feeling the sudden need to clarify the situation. “There were some… misunderstandings with the landlord.”

Itachi nodded in response, mimicking the same slow, deliberate gesture she had often seen from Sasuke when he wanted to show he was listening carefully.

“If it’s a misunderstanding with the landlord, I’m sure Shisui can—”

“Absolutely not,” Sasuke interjected abruptly, his tone laced with annoyance. “I don’t want his stupid face all up in my business.”

Sakura blinked in surprise at Sasuke’s sharp response. It was the first time she’d heard him speak with such a bite.

Sensing the tension in Sasuke’s reaction, Itachi’s frown deepened. “Then I’m guessing Father is also off limits?”

At the mention of their father, Sasuke’s glare intensified, the muscles in his jaw tightening visibly. A storm seemed to pass over his features, and for a brief moment, the room felt colder, as though the very mention of their father had sparked something volatile in him.

Itachi, observing this, let out a soft sigh, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as his expression became more solemn. His arms crossed over his chest in a gesture of both resolve and resignation. “Very well, this will stay between us until ‘it’ is sorted out.”

With that, the conversation reached a standstill, and Itachi took it as a silence cue to leave. With a nod to both Sasuke and Sakura, he rose from his seat and headed towards the door. For some reason, Sakura had the feeling Itachi’s gaze was lingering on her. 

When the door clicked shut behind Itachi, the apartment seemed to exhale in relief, the tension hanging in the air dissipating in an instant. Yet, an odd stillness remained. 

Sasuke and Sakura quickly settled back to their routines afterward, their actions casual, as though nothing had happened—as if their number one rule had not been broken beyond prepare.

Chapter Text

Despite its modest size and location in a less-than-desirable neighborhood, their apartment possessed a certain luxury, the in-unit washing machine tucking neatly beside the small bathroom.

While they had agreed to divide household chores, laundry remained a task they preferred to handle individually. 

Sakura had stifled a laugh of amusement and disbelief when Sasuke admitted, with an almost embarrassed grumble, that he’d never done his own laundry before. Still, his determined approach to learning—a furrowed brow and sleeves rolled to his elbows—was endearing.

Fortunately, it was a skill that was surprisingly easy to pick up. The only hiccup Sasuke encountered so far was using Sakura’s detergent the first time he washed his clothes on his own, which ended up with him smelling like Sakura for the entire week. 

He did not mind this as much as the unwanted attention and puzzled stare he got from people on the street, clearly bemused by the incongruity between the stoic demeanor he often projected and the gentle, floral scents that enveloped him. The experience quickly prompted him to switch to a detergent with a more neutral scent for future washes. Apart from this adjustment, his main grievance with the chore was the tedious process of air drying and meticulously folding his clothes. 

Out of all his responsibilities, doing laundry was the most straightforward and trouble-free task Sasuke had to contend with—until one notable incident. On that particular day, Sakura had underestimated the amount of rain expected.

The weather forecast has warned her of showers in some places, but because it was only June, Sakura dismissed it with a shrug. The last few days had been bathed in golden sunlight, so she assumed it would be nothing more than a light drizzle. But as she hurried home from class, the heavy clouds loomed overhead. They were darker and larger than she had anticipated, rolling towards her apartment with ominous intent. 

The first raindrop struck her cheek like a cold warning, followed by a cascade that drenched her in seconds. She fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling as she texted her roommate. The relentless downpour hammering the streets in compensation for all the sunny days and an unapologetic announcement of the rainy season’s premature arrival.

Drenched from head to toe, Sakura stumbled through the front door, shivering as water dripped from her hair onto the wooden floor. Her eyes landed on her roommate, completely engrossed in his class assignments and seemingly unaware of her arrival.

It struck her as odd to see him sitting at the table with his back to the front door. Normally, he preferred the side facing the room, where he could glance up and track any movement. Something about his choice of seating today felt off, but she didn’t linger on the thought for long.

“Uchiha-san, did you get my text?” She asked, her voice a little shaky from the cold as she bent down to tug off her shoes, sending tiny droplets scattering across the floor.

“Over there,” he replied curtly. Sasuke didn’t bother turning around, merely lifting a hand to gesture toward the white basket on the floor.

As Sakura stepped cautiously into the main room, her gaze fell on the laundry basket, and she leaned over to inspect its contents. Inside, her clothes were neatly dried and organized by type—shirts folded perfectly, socks paired with precision. But as her eyes moved downward, they froze at the sight of her bras and panties, folded just as meticulously.

A wave of heat surged to her cheeks, burning away the residual cold from the rain. Her face turned a vivid shade of red, her breath hitching as mortification settled in. The dainty bows and playful patterns decorating her undergarments seemed to taunt her, every frilly detail feeling impossibly loud in the silence of the room.

In that instant, everything clicked. Sasuke’s unusual seating arrangement—his rigid posture with his back firmly turned toward her—and his refusal to meet her gaze suddenly made perfect sense. 

How could he? Especially after he had to spend an undisclosed amount of time searching up how to fold certain garments on his phone as he handled women's underwear for the first time? After he discovered Sakura’s undergarments adorned with little bows and cute patterns? 

He should have anticipated that Sakura hadn’t thought it through when she asked him for the favor. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t have ignored folding only her underwear or leaving all her clothes in disarray. He was not taught to not follow through with his promise or do tasks half-heartedly, no matter how awkward or uncomfortable.

With that said, how could he face her now?

Or more pressingly, how could she ever face him again?

All she wanted to do now was crawl into her futon and sleep this nightmare away.

Sakura stammered out a shaky “thank you” before snatching the entire basket into her arms and bolting for the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her, a barrier of thin wood that did little to muffle the awkward tension still hanging thick in the air. 

Inside, Sakura leaned against the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was still flushed, a soft pink creeping from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to calm the rapid fluttering in her chest.

“Next time,” she muttered under her breath, glaring at herself as she vowed to follow every single word of the weather forecast lady’s advice. “Every. Single. Word.”

Meanwhile, Sasuke was burying his face in his hands, cringing at the situation they had found themselves in. 

Unfortunately, the trouble didn’t end there for Sakura. When she emerged from the bathroom, shivering slightly from the cool, damp air, and discreetly tried to grab her futon, Sasuke had to break the awkward silence to inform her that he hadn't managed to save her futon in time. It turned out she had picked the worst possible moment to wash something that only needed occasional cleaning.

Sakura stared at him blankly, her face a strange blend of disbelief and amusement. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. The situation was so ridiculous that it left her torn between frustration and helpless amusement.

Without another word, she fetched her thankfully dry blanket and began to wrap herself in it. The futon had been her last hope for comfort, and now it was gone.

“What are you doing?” Sasuke asked, his voice filled with confusion as he watched her make herself at home on the floor.

“Making the best of the situation,” she replied, her voice dry, laced with a hint of resignation. She pulled the blanket tightly around her, sinking into its warmth as if trying to escape the sting of the day’s embarrassing events.

The narrowness of the blanket forced Sakura to wrap it tightly around herself, her movements stiff and awkward as she struggled to make it work. The fabric clung uncomfortably, cocooning her so tightly that her limbs felt pinned, leaving her unable to stretch or even flip onto her back.

Sasuke watched her struggle from his spot, his expression utterly unimpressed. The corner of his mouth quirked in a slight, almost imperceptible frown as he observed her comically tangled form. He realized that his roommate was probably working through her shock at the news, but he couldn’t help thinking that if her intention was to appear pitiful, she certainly succeeded.

He was half-tempted to just let her figure it out, to leave her to her own stubbornness and let her suffer the consequences. But Sasuke knew better. He’d seen her toss and turn enough nights to know that she wouldn’t stay still and the blanket she had wasn’t enough to cover her properly. 

If she insisted on using it as both cover and cushion, there was no way she’d be comfortable, particularly after she had come home drenched from the rain. He feared that she would end up sleeping directly on the tatami mat this way. What if she ended up sick?

Finally, with a long drawn-out sigh, Sasuke gave in to the growing sense of exasperation. 

“You can use my futon,” he offered, getting up and holding his rolled-up blanket in his arm. 

“It’s okay. It’s only for one night,” Sakura answered in a flat, emotionless tone. She didn’t even glance up at him as she curled deeper into the blanket, as if trying to shut out everything—including the discomfort she was clearly in. “Can you turn off the light?”

Sasuke didn’t think she looked okay at all. He knew it was her fault for neglecting the weather forecast and understood she was dealing with the consequences. But it still didn’t sit right with him for her to sleep like that while he lay comfortably in his futon.

“You’re not going to be able to sleep like that,” he warned, but his message seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Her reply came dismissively, as though she hadn’t even heard his concern. “Don’t worry, I’ve done it before.” 

Sakura shifted slightly beneath the blanket, adjusting it as if to emphasize her point. She wasn't a fan of it, but she had accidentally fallen asleep directly on the tatami mat quite a few times before. Sleeping on her blanket instead of a futon wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t unbearable either.

Sasuke couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration. She wasn’t exactly convincing him, but it was clear she wasn’t going to budge.

“Just get in the futon, Haruno,” Sasuke insisted with crossed arms and a determined stare. 

Sakura’s eyes met his, but they were distant, glazed with the shock of everything that had happened. She opened her mouth to respond, her voice quiet, and resigned. “This is divine punishment for my hubris, Uchiha-san.”

Sasuke's eyes twitched as he felt his patience thinning. Why was she refusing when he had so graciously offered her his futon? If he continued to push, it would begin to sound like he was begging her to sleep in his futon. 

Clicking his tongue in irritation, Sasuke walked over and began to use his feet to roll Sakura—still wrapped in her blanket—until she landed face-first on top of his futon. The blanket shifted awkwardly around her as she tried to adjust to the unexpected relocation.

“What’s the big deal?” Sakura exclaimed, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Sasuke sighed again, feeling a surge of frustration. He reached overhead and switched off the light, casting the room into a dim, quiet ambiance. With a deliberate calmness, he settled himself on the tatami mat next to Sakura.

“I told you, you can use it,” he reiterated, his tone softer now, hoping she would finally accept his offer, if not for her comfort’s sake then at least for his peace of mind.

With great effort, Sakura unraveled herself from the tightly wrapped blanket. The darkness seemed to disorient her, and she blinked a few times, struggling to adjust her eyes to the low light. It took her a moment to locate Sasuke in the dim room, his silhouette faint but unmistakable.

“But you’ll have to sleep on the mat!” she protested, concern creasing her brow.

Truthfully, the idea of sleeping directly on the tatami mat wasn’t exactly appealing to Sasuke since he had never done it before. Hell, he was still adjusting to sleeping on the futon after years of sleeping on a mattress. Despite this, he was fairly certain he’d sleep better this way than if he had not offered his futon at all.

“You said it yourself; it’s only going to be for one night,” Sasuke insisted calmly.

Sakura hesitated, her conflicted gaze lingering on him. “But this futon is yours,” she reasoned.

“Then I get to choose whether or not to use it,” he replied without missing a beat.

The finality in his words seemed to settle the matter, and Sakura, still slightly stunned, realized that she had no real argument against that. She found herself in this situation more often than she’d like when it came to Sasuke—his decisiveness always leaving her feeling a step behind. Yet despite that, a gnawing guilt continued to churn within her, reminding her that this mess was ultimately her fault. She hated that Sasuke was shouldering the burden—her burden—by himself.

Unable to suppress the impulse, she blurted out before she could stop herself, “Do you want to share the futon with me?”

In the dark, she could see Sasuke snap his head back toward her, but she couldn’t see his expression clearly. He froze for a brief moment, either incredulous or considering her offer; she wasn’t sure. However, whatever fleeting thoughts crossed Sasuke's mind, he ultimately opted to dismiss the proposal. In a gesture that conveyed both finality and resignation, he lay back down, resuming his previous position. 

“Go to sleep,” Sasuke said tersely. There was a gruffness to his tone that made Sakura feel like he was upset with her. She couldn't blame him if he was, given the circumstances and her own thoughtlessness. The room fell into a heavy silence after Sasuke’s curt command.

Sakura lay still, her thoughts swirling in the dark. She quietly reprimanded herself for even entertaining the idea of asking him to share the futon. What had possessed her to do that? She had been trying to keep her distance from her roommate after the underwear incident, so why did she have to go and blurt out those words?

Lying in his futon, Sakura knew she was right to refuse his offer initially. The thought of being surrounded by Sasuke’s lingering scent kept her too awake to fall asleep, the sensation both comforting and unsettling. Yet, in a fleeting moment of contemplation, she entertained the unexpected opportunity to feel closer to him, if only for a night. It wasn’t as if it would mean anything. Just one night, and once her futon dried, everything would return to normal.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans in store. The rain didn’t let up, and the days that followed were filled with the constant patter of droplets against the windows. Fortunately for Sasuke’s aching back, Sakura decided to simply dry her futon at the nearby coin laundry.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

After a week of relentless rain, the sun blazed back with an almost oppressive heat, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth as the dry season stubbornly lingered.

Sasuke stirred from his slumber, the golden morning light slipping through the gaps in the curtains and casting warm patterns across the tatami floor. A faint stillness hung in the room, and he quickly noticed Sakura’s absence. The low table by the wall caught his eye—bare now, though he could still picture it as it had been last night, her books and papers fanned out in meticulous disorder. The faint, bittersweet aroma of her coffee hung in the air, mingling with the faint woodsy scent of the room. 

Slowly rousing from his futon, Sasuke ran a hand through his tousled hair, the strands sticking to his forehead with the lingering heat of the morning. Although his exams were behind him, Sakura’s last test loomed today. 

Over the past week, her routine had become a relentless cycle—nights spent hunched over her textbooks and notes, the faint glow of her desk lamp cutting through the darkness, followed by early-morning departures before the first rays of sunlight. He knew this pace wasn’t sustainable, but he also recognized the immense pressure she was under. With her scholarship on the line and her dream to be a doctor, Sakura was determined to secure top grades.

Adding to their stress, the heat had been unbearable lately. The unforgiving temperatures seemed to cling to Sasuke, leaving his shirt drenched in sweat from the mere act of walking in the scorching sun or being cramped in the stuffy, suffocating train. Each step outside felt like a battle against the oppressive air, the relentless sun beating down on him mercilessly.

Thankfully, Sakura’s schedule often kept her occupied at school for most of the day, giving Sasuke the freedom to shed his shirt within the confines of their apartment. When she was at home, Sasuke opted for a thinner, more breathable shirt to adapt to the stifling heat. Since the day he changed his choice of clothes, however, he’d begun noticing something he couldn’t quite ignore: Sakura’s gaze seemed to wander in his direction more often than before.

At first, he dismissed it as a product of his imagination. But as the days passed, the glances grew more frequent and lingered a moment too long for it to be a coincidence. Every time he caught her in the act, his heart skipped an involuntary beat, a faint rush of heat blooming in his chest.

Sasuke had always been in good shape, a lifetime of discipline and training carving out a body built for strength and endurance, though he rarely paid much attention to his own appearance until now.

Now that his arms and chest were more exposed in sleeveless shirts, Sasuke couldn’t help but notice the subtle shifts in Sakura’s behavior. When they talked, her usual steady eye contact faltered, her gaze darting nervously away from his sculpted biceps or broad shoulders. The faint pink flush creeping across her cheeks betrayed her composure, and she’d often fidget with her hair or tug absently at the hem of her shirt as though searching for an anchor.

Even in quieter moments, her changes in demeanor were hard to miss. If he so much as called her name, she’d flinch, startled, her eyes widening before she quickly masked her surprise with a shaky laugh. The ease and calm she usually carried seemed to crumble in his presence, replaced by a flustered energy.

Sometimes, Sasuke would feign ignorance, pretending to be absorbed in his own tasks while covertly watching Sakura struggle to concentrate on her task with wandering eyes and a blushing face to see how long she would last. Though he would never openly admit it, Sasuke found quiet satisfaction in knowing that he could so effortlessly steal her attention, her focus unraveling under the weight of his proximity. It was a subtle power he didn’t know he wielded until now, and he couldn’t help but relish it.

Was it unfair of him to do so? Perhaps. But Sasuke believed it was justified—a payback for previous events, namely the forgotten shirt incident or the cockroach incident, hell, even the countless mornings he’d woken to find her blanket kicked off, leaving her sprawled in unceremonious disarray. If anything, it was balance restored. For someone who once refused to even share a room with him, Sakura wasn’t nearly as innocent as the image she so carefully portrayed to others, and he not only wanted to prove it but to make her admit it.

It was only fair to turn the tables on Sakura. She had teased him plenty, knowingly or not, and now it was his turn to give her a taste of her own medicine. After all, why must he always be the one who is left flustered by her? This was a matter of pride for him, a challenge he had resolved to embrace. He refused to be outdone by this dense and oblivious girl.

As his thoughts swirled with determination, Sasuke’s eyes caught a glimpse of Sakura’s unmistakable pink hair bouncing rhythmically as she made her way down the road. The sight of her, so familiar yet oddly thrilling, sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. Without a second thought, he pushed himself up, his steps swift and purposeful as he moved toward the front door.

Usually, by the time Sakura arrived home, Sasuke would have made the effort to throw on a shirt. but not today. Leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, he allowed the hallway lights to accentuate the subtle definition of his muscles. The faint sheen of heat still clung to his skin 

As the door swung open to reveal Sakura, Sasuke watched with quiet amusement as her gaze immediately snapped upward. Her steps faltered; the momentum of her entrance suddenly interrupted. The sound of her panting, surely a result of climbing the stairs under the brutal heat outside, ceased abruptly. Had she neglected herself so much that he would be so out of shape?

A smug smirk tugged at Sasuke’s lips as he watched her freeze. Sakura’s green eyes went wide, her breath hitching audibly in her throat as a vivid blush bloomed on her face. Sasuke could practically feel her gaze tracing its way downward from his face, moving slowly, almost reluctantly, past his neck before snapping back up to meet his eyes, as though she had just regained control of herself. Sasuke took it as a hint to lean in just a little, savoring the sight of her struggling to regain her usual composure.

“Welcome home.”

Sakura, visibly flustered, struggled to find her words as her face turned a shade darker. Her eyes darted nervously from Sasuke’s amused expression to the floor beneath her feet. Her voice wavered, a mix of surprise and confusion coloring her words. 

“U-Uchiha-san, what—? You—?” She paused, swallowing nervously to steady herself before attempting to continue. “Are you...waiting on the laundry?”

She cast a quick glance toward the unloaded washing machine, then shifted her focus to the empty drying rack outside, as though searching for any plausible excuse to shift attention away from Sasuke’s shirtless state. Though her reaction wasn’t as explosive as he expected, there was still something undeniably entertaining about seeing his roommate so thrown off, desperately attempting to redirect the conversation from the elephant in the room.

“It’s too hot for a shirt today,” he answered casually, seemingly unbothered by his unusual state of dressing.

“D-don’t you think it’s still better to wear one?” Sakura stammered. Her attempts to articulate a coherent thought were hindered by her uneven breathing, seemingly a sign of her growing unease. She shifted awkwardly, her gaze dropping to the floor, her eyes unfocused as she wrestled with her thoughts.

Sasuke took a deliberate step toward her, closing the space between them with purposeful intent. His eyes locked with hers, his voice low and teasing. “Why? Isn’t it easier for you to ogle without it in the way?”

If it was possible, Sakura’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as her embarrassment spread like wildfire, igniting every inch of her skin. Her features twisted in mortification as she instinctively took a step back, putting distance between herself and Sasuke. 

His unexpected proximity and teasing remark left her paralyzed, her throat dry, and her words tangled in her chest. Her mind raced, thoughts colliding in a frantic whirl, trying to process Sasuke’s unusual behavior and the sheer absurdity of the situation, which fried her mind in more ways than one. 

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she struggled to speak, her voice faltering and words slurred from her lips in a tangle of frustration. “I-I don’t—I didn’t mean...” 

Her eyes darted around, searching for something—anything—to ground her. Her breath came in shallow gasps, quick and erratic, as if she were struggling to catch her breath in the midst of a storm. Yet her movements felt sluggish, as though the world had slowed down, stretching the moment into an eternity where time itself seemed to mock her helplessness.

At that moment, concern flickered in Sasuke’s eyes as he observed Sakura’s unusually disoriented state. Being taken off guard was one thing, but the way Sakura was reacting, as if the very ground beneath her had shifted, was far more concerning than he had anticipated.

“Haruno?” Sasuke’s voice, usually steady and cold, now held a rare edge of worry as he took a cautious step toward her, his instincts urging him to be gentle, though his mind was racing with questions.

Before he could receive a response, however, Sakura took another step back, her body swaying precariously. The color drained from her face, and her breaths came in short, uneven gasps. But just before she toppled over, Sasuke’s instinct kicked in.

“Hey!” Sasuke exclaimed, his voice sharp with urgency, as his arms instinctively wrapped around Sakura’s waist to provide stability. His fingers grazed the fabric of her clothes, but he quickly realized that it wasn’t enough. Sakura’s body swayed unsteadily in his grip, as if her legs were no longer capable of supporting her.

Confusion and concern churned in Sasuke’s stomach, his chest tightening with a strange, unfamiliar anxiety. Gently but firmly, he guided Sakura to a nearby corner. Her body leaned heavily against him as he maneuvered her with his hands on her arms, the warmth of her skin seeming to pulse beneath his touch.

Once they reached the corner, Sakura sank down, her movements slow and uncoordinated, as if the world around her had blurred into an unrecognizable haze. She sat against the wall, her gaze vacant and unfocused, her eyes glassy and distant as she stared up at the ceiling with an unsettling blankness. Sasuke could hear the uneven rhythm of her breaths—shallow gasps that seemed to catch in her throat, her chest rising and falling erratically.

“Haruno?” Sasuke asked again, his voice thick with worry, the edge of panic he usually kept hidden now creeping into his tone. He crouched down in front of her, his hand moved to brush a damp strand of hair away from her flushed face, and he immediately noted the clamminess of her skin.

His pulse quickened as he placed a hand on her forehead, his fingertips tingling from the warmth that seeped through her skin, like fire simmering just beneath the surface. Only then did the full realization hit him—his roommate was burning up with a high fever. The playful atmosphere shattered in an instant as the weight of the situation crashed down on Sasuke.

Her panting, her dazed confusion, the slick sheen of sweat clinging to her skin—they weren’t just the result of the weather or his teasing, though they might have exacerbated things. He cursed inwardly, regretting his earlier lightheartedness in the face of her obvious distress.

Fueled by a mix of concern and frustration, Sasuke quickly sprang to his feet. His hands, usually so composed, now felt clumsy with the weight of his worry as he unrolled Sakura’s futon. Gently, yet with a force born of desperation, Sasuke lifted her into his arms and carried her over. Her body felt unnaturally warm against his chest, the heat of her fever seeping through his clothes like a burning reminder. 

Once there, he laid her down, his fingers lingering a moment too long against her skin as he tucked the blanket around her, though the feverish heat radiating from her body made it seem pointless.

Grabbing a small towel, Sasuke wetted it with cold water from the kitchen sink and wrung it out before placing it on Sakura’s forehead, hoping the coolness would provide some relief from the fever that had overtaken her.

Knowing that Sakura was studying medicine and likely kept medications close at hand, Sasuke began to search through her belongings. He recalled that she had even given him some supplements the other day. After rummaging through drawers and cabinets, his hand closed around a small box tucked away in a corner.

Opening it, Sasuke found several blister packs of pills, each one labeled with a series of medical terms that might as well have been in a foreign language. Frowning, he carefully read through the instructions and labels on each pack, trying to decipher which pill was meant for what condition and at what dosage.

His brow furrowed in concentration as he double-checked the instructions, ensuring that he would give Sakura the right medication.

Sasuke had never really had to take care of a sick person by himself before. While he knew the basics of fetching water, wetting a towel, and ensuring Sakura was comfortable, the finer details—like choosing the right medicine—were unfamiliar territory for him. He stared at the blister pack in his hand, its medical jargon an indecipherable maze of confusion. He just hoped that he was doing this right.

Leaving Sakura to rest, Sasuke carefully placed the medicine with a cup of water within her reach. He adjusted the towel on her forehead and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. 

The apartment was unnervingly quiet, the usual hum of everyday life replaced by a tense stillness that mirrored his own unease.

Throughout the remainder of the day, Sasuke carried the weight of worry with him. He paced silently through the apartment, checking on Sakura at regular intervals. Each time, he observed her breathing, felt her forehead for any change in temperature, and silently urged for her to wake up soon.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke was just about to turn in for the night when a soft groan reached his ears, faint but unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat, the sudden sound of her voice stirring a surge of concern that tightened his chest. Without hesitation, he hurried to Sakura’s side and retrieved the thermometer he had used earlier to place in her mouth.

The minutes stretched out painfully, each passing second heavy with anticipation as he watched Sakura closely. Finally, the thermometer beeped, breaking the silence with a sharp, mechanical sound. Carefully removing it from Sakura’s mouth to check the display, Sasuke felt relief wash over him as he saw her temperature beginning to decline. It wasn’t a dramatic drop, but it was enough—a sign that she was improving.

Sasuke, still unable to fully shake the worry that lingered in his chest, reached for the glass of water he had left nearby when Sakura stirred. Her eyes fluttering open, and for a moment, Sasuke thought she might drift back to sleep. But then, with effort, she managed to sit up just enough to take a few small sips from the glass he handed her. Her movements were slow and laborious, as though each motion required more energy than she had left to give.

“Do you want to eat?” Sasuke asked, his voice unusually tender.

Sakura shook her head slowly, her expression pained. 

“Should you be eating?” He asked hesitantly. Truthfully, he actually trusted Sakura’s knowledge in this matter more than his own, as he wasn’t sure what the protocol for sick individuals was. Was it better for a sick person to skip meals and rest or should he force feed them so they would have enough energy to recover quickly?

“I will vomit,” Sakura answered weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hand trembled as she gave the glass back to him before lying back down.

Although Sakura was getting better slowly, Sasuke could tell that her eyes were still unable to focus on him. Something about that observation caused all his frustration and worry that had been building up all day to bubble over.

“Why are you such an idiot?” Sasuke blurted out before he could stop himself. As soon as the words left his mouth, his heart sank as he realized how it must have sounded. He had meant to express his concern, but instead, his emotions had come out all wrong.

Sakura, her eyes still closed, let out a small hum that sounded like a question—a soft, almost uncertain sound that told him she was still aware of him, still present despite the haze of illness clouding her mind.

Sasuke sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but seeing Sakura like this stirred a complex mess of emotions in him—anger, helplessness, but overwhelming of all, concern.

His gaze softened as it returned to Sakura’s face, her features still pale and exhausted.

“You’re going to be a doctor, Haruno; you’re supposed to be smarter than this," Sasuke continued, his voice softer now but tinged with disappointment. “You’re supposed to know how to not get sick. You should have texted me the moment you felt unwell.” Before I stupidly tried to mess with you .

He paused, his eyes lingering on her face, then grabbed the now warm towel from Sakura’s forehead and dunked it into the small bucket of cold water he had placed nearby earlier. As he wrung it out, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of responsibility. 

She hadn’t been cooking or eating as much lately, he realized, and probably hadn’t been getting enough rest or drinking sufficient water in the hot and humid weather.

Was it his fault for not paying enough attention? Sakura had been under immense stress preparing for her exam, staying up late studying and neglecting her usual routines. The sudden, extreme shift in weather recently probably only made matters worse.

“But smart people often get sick,” Sakura murmured in a slow, breathy voice. It was a faint attempt at humor, a small spark of her usual wit flickering through the haze of illness.

Sasuke scoffed softly, the edge of worry in his voice lightening for just a moment. “You believe that superstition?”

Sakura let out another low hum, as if pondering his question. “You aren’t sick, Uchiha-san?” she asked, her voice soft and slurred with fatigue.

Sasuke could tell his roommate wasn’t fully aware of what she was implying. Yet, even in her delirious state, the teasing tone in her voice managed to irk him. 

He frowned, feeling a pang of annoyance rise within him. He gripped the wet towel, wringing it a little too aggressively before dropping it on her forehead with an unintended “splat” sound.

Sakura responded with a delayed, almost inaudible sound of discomfort from the sudden coldness of the towel pressing against her fevered skin.

“Go back to sleep,” Sasuke demanded tersely.

Sakura let out a tired giggle, a delicate, mirthful sound. Her fatigue seemed to momentarily lift as a small, genuine smile spread across her face. 

”I like you, Uchiha-san,” she murmured, her voice soft and sincere, carrying a warmth that made Sasuke’s heart skip a beat when her words registered.

Sasuke’s hand, which had been gently adjusting the towel on her forehead, froze mid-air in its retreat back to his side. His eyes searched for hers but they were already closed, her breathing steady and calm.

“You’re a really kind person,” Sakura continued in a whisper that quickly dissipated into the air like a wisp of smoke.

Sasuke remained quiet, allowing Sakura’s words to linger in the silence of the room, hoping that she would elaborate on her words. He was accustomed to receiving praise, but never with “kind.” It was a word rarely associated with him, and he found himself contemplating what he might have done to earn such a perception from Sakura. His mind lingered on it, turning it over like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“Will you stay with me?” Sakura’s soft voice broke the stillness of the room once more, almost tentative.

Sasuke considered her question carefully. It should have been a straightforward answer—a simple reassurance of his presence by her side, which he had done the entirety of the day. But Sakura’s earlier words—A confession?—made him pause. Was she aware of the weight her words carried or was he reading too much into it?

“Yes,” Sasuke finally replied, his voice steady and calm, though his heart was beating a little faster than usual. Despite the swirling, conflicting thoughts in his mind, the word felt right, as though it came from a place deeper than logic or reason. It felt like the only answer he could give her.

Sakura gave the tiniest nod; her expression relaxed as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “It’s dark out,” she murmured, her voice fragile and quiet. “I don’t like to be alone.” 

Sasuke’s gaze shifted to her face, noting how the line of her lashes glistened with moisture. For a moment, Sasuke thought she might be crying. But her even breathing soon reassured him that she had drifted to sleep; her vulnerability lay bare in the quiet of the room.

Sasuke stayed by her side for a while longer, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, making sure it covered her fully.

Given that this was the first time Sasuke had taken care of someone, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and frustration. He believed he was doing a rather good job of it, yet, beneath the surface, a nagging sense of inadequacy gnawed at him.

Since they had started living together, Sakura had naturally taken on the role of the dependable one. From teaching Sasuke how to cook simple meals to showing him the proper way to do laundry. She would anticipate his needs, bringing him a glass of tea when he was buried in his studies, even when he hadn’t asked for it. Her nurturing nature had created a comfortable routine that Sasuke had grown accustomed to relying on.

But now, their roles were reversed for the first time, and Sasuke found himself in unfamiliar territory. As he cared for Sakura in her time of need, Sasuke couldn’t help but compare his efforts to the seamless care she had always provided for him.

If Sakura were in his shoes right now, he was certain she wouldn’t be stumbling cluelessly around, unsure of what to do, or asking the sick person how she was supposed to help them. Living with Sakura had made him acutely aware that, despite his desire for independence, he was woefully unprepared to manage on his own.

Every nitpicking complaint and sharp remark he had directed at Sakura had been a way for him to deflect his frustrations rather than confront his own shortcomings. His pride had always been a barrier, and he hadn’t truly understood it until now. Despite that, instead of retaliating, Sakura had always responded with patience and understanding, guiding him gently through the challenges of everyday life, even when he’d been too proud or stubborn to admit he needed help.

He hadn’t even needed to ask, but yesterday morning she had made his favorite onigiri for breakfast and attached a lucky charm to the strap of his bag. It was only when he arrived on campus for his exam that Sasuke noticed these small gestures of kindness from her. Despite their relationship being nothing more than that of roommates, Sakura had always gone out of her way to consider Sasuke’s need, to make his day just a little bit easier without expecting anything in return.

Sasuke felt a pang of guilt as he thought about it. He had never truly acknowledged just how much she had done for him, how much effort she put into their daily routines, and how little he had reciprocated. He admitted to himself, in the quiet of the moment, that he hadn’t always been the best roommate. Deep down, he had been aware of it for a long time, but it had been easier to ignore or push those thoughts aside than to face them. 

Due to this, he often found himself jumping at every opportunity to help Sakura whenever an inconvenience arose, as if these small acts of assistance could somehow make up for everything she had done for him.

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t enough. What he wanted to do now wasn’t simply reciprocate favors. He wanted to become more considerate, more attuned to her needs. He wanted to think of her not just as someone he shared a living space with, but at the very least as a friend, as someone who deserved his attention and care just as much as she did him.

Sasuke sat quietly beside Sakura, watching her peaceful face unnaturally devoid of its usual smile. His fingers hovered over her soft cheeks, and he gently poked them, as if hoping his touch might somehow rouse her from her deep slumber. But Sakura remained blissfully unaware, her breathing steady and undisturbed.

Resting his chin on his hand, Sasuke poked her cheeks again, this time with a hint of exasperation. “You better get well soon,” he muttered softly, a silent plea for her to wake up and be the Sakura he knew once more.

Chapter Text

As June rolled around, so did the wet season, bringing with it days of relentless downpours. Sasuke, however, was woefully unprepared for today’s sudden and unyielding rain. One might think he’d have learned a lesson or two from Sakura’s mishap with her futon, but the morning’s rush had scattered his usual careful thoughts. The idea of grabbing an umbrella had completely slipped his mind. So there he stood, just outside the entrance of the lecture hall, under its shelter, his usually neat hair now damp and clinging to his forehead.

A few of his female classmates had approached him, offering to share their umbrellas with shy smiles and hopeful glances. But Sasuke had declined them all, his responses curt but polite. He simply couldn’t have the people at school figure out where he lived, or worse, that he didn’t live alone. Letting anyone from school catch even a glimpse of his personal life, especially Sakura, wasn’t an option. So he stayed put, shoulders stiff and jaw set, silently enduring the rain’s icy caress.

Across the street, through the hazy curtain of rain, Sasuke spotted a familiar figure taking refuge under the awning of a nearby building. Despite attending the same college, their paths rarely crossed on campus due to their vastly different schedules and majors. They also had a mutual agreement to act like strangers here, a rule Sakura only half-followed.

She had a habit of trying to catch his attention discreetly—a quick smile, a playful wink, or an exaggerated wave when she was certain no one else was looking. Why she went through the effort when they saw each other daily at home was a mystery to him. It was annoying, to say the least, yet he always found himself returning her gestures with a begrudging glance or a subtle nod.

Currently, Sakura was huddled close to the wall by herself, her back turned to him, seemingly unaware of his presence.

But on a closer look, Sasuke noticed that Sakura wasn’t alone. Standing beside her was a guy who, at a glance, could almost be mistaken for an Uchiha, with his dark hair and piercing eyes. But a second look dispelled any such notion—his facial features lacked the distinct sharpness of Sasuke’s clan. His most striking feature had to be his sickly pale skin and his emotionless expression. 

Sasuke had never spoken to this guy before, but he had seen him in passing, lingering on the outskirts of their shared campus life. Even from afar, Sasuke found it hard to gauge what the guy was thinking, which was rare—Sasuke prided himself on reading people.

His gaze shifted to Sakura, her vibrant hair unmistakable even in the gray haze of rain. It was a beacon of life and energy, much like her personality, and Sasuke knew it was bound to draw attention. Some of that attention, of course, was male, which didn’t surprise him. Unlike himself, Sakura was naturally social and friendly, quickly forming connections during their first weeks at college.

There was a group of friends she typically spent her time with. However, Sasuke had noticed that the only person she was ever alone with was a blonde girl who always wore her hair in a ponytail—Sakura had called her Ino. Hanging alone with this guy, though, was new. Something about their quiet interaction under the awning gnawed at him, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.

The steady pitter-patter of rain against the pavement muted the world around him as Sasuke observed them from a distance. Curiosity crept into his thoughts, mingling with a vague sense of unease. 

Was this the same guy Sakura spent time with during her so-called study sessions? She had never mentioned him, yet here they were, standing closer than casual acquaintances would, their hushed conversation cloaked in the rhythm of the rain.

Sasuke couldn’t make out their words, but his sharp eyes caught the subtle nuances of their interaction. There was a fleeting exchange—Sakura tilted her head slightly, her expression curious, almost questioning. The pale guy responded with a sudden smile, a gesture that seemed out of place on his otherwise stoic face. Without hesitation, he extended his umbrella to her, the motion deliberate and tinged with what might be mistaken for thoughtfulness.

To anyone else, it might have seemed like a simple act of kindness. But Sasuke’s eyes narrowed, wondering if Sakura was aware that most of the smiles that guy directed toward her were fake.

Sasuke’s eyes lingered on the pair, his irritation growing by the second. He hoped Sakura would catch on to the pale guy’s façade, but living with her had taught him that it was unlikely. Just the other day, he had to interfere before she was almost dragged off to join a religious cult. 

He recognized that Sakura was still adjusting to city life, unfamiliar with its endless scams and unspoken social cues. Her good nature often left her vulnerable, and while Sasuke tried to remain patient, it was becoming a full-time job keeping her out of trouble. By now, watching over her had become second nature, a habit he couldn’t seem to break, and there was just something about this two-faced guy that he didn’t like one bit. 

That guy might have given Sakura an umbrella to use, but who to say he didn’t do that without an ulterior motive? At least they weren’t sharing the umbrella and that pale, emotionless guy was stuck on campus for now unless he wanted to ride the train drench. 

Sasuke continued to watch in silence as Sakura carefully unfolded the umbrella, waved goodbye to her friend, and stepped into the downpour. The cool droplets splattered against her face, but instead of looking toward the gate, her gaze unexpectedly met his.

Though Sasuke’s face remained impassive, his pulse immediately stuttered. A sudden warmth flooded his chest even as he quickly averted his eyes. He had hoped she would stick to their unspoken agreement—to remain strangers. Yet, out of the corner of his eye, he caught her glancing around, her eyes scanning the empty courtyard as if searching for someone to witness the quiet rebellion.

Luckily for her, the campus was mostly empty, save for a few other students who, like them, had forgotten their umbrellas. They hurried across the courtyard, their footsteps splashing against the wet pavement as they sought shelter. Sasuke had assumed Sakura would continue on her way home, but to his surprise and confusion, he noticed from his peripheral vision that she was running toward him. His breath caught, eyes widening in disbelief as she closed the distance between them.

Without thinking, Sasuke instinctively stepped back to avoid the water she kicked up as she skidded to a stop in front of him. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps. The raindrops clung to her vibrant pink hair; the strands darkened with moisture.

Uchiha-san!” Sakura whispered loudly, her voice carrying a hint of urgency in the quiet surroundings.

Quickly composed himself, Sasuke’s mind grasped for something—anything—to regain control of the situation. “We agreed not to talk on campus,” he said, as if the words were a spell to keep her away from him.

Sakura’s lips curved into a contrite smile as she closed the umbrella with a quiet snap, shaking off the excess water in a series of gentle, rhythmic motions, causing droplets to scatter to the ground in shimmering arcs. 

“I know,” she replied, her voice a little breathless, as if the brief sprint had taken more of a toll on her than she let on. “I just came to give you this.” She pressed the umbrella into his hands with a quiet insistence.

Sasuke hesitated, glancing down at the umbrella now in his grasp.

“I don’t need it,” Sasuke murmured, his gaze meeting Sakura’s stubbornly.

“But you don’t have an umbrella,” Sakura countered gently, a slight tilt of her head showing that she understood his reluctance but wasn’t backing down.

Sasuke’s jaw tightened, and a hint of annoyance seeped into his tone, though he fought to keep his composure. “So will you if I take it from you,” he retorted, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if daring her to argue.

Sakura casually waved away the issue with a dismissive gesture, as if it were no more than a passing inconvenience. Sasuke had always looked out for her in ways she couldn’t always articulate, and letting him borrow the umbrella seemed like the least she could do to balance the scales. But even as she brushed off his concerns, a part of her couldn’t help but notice the quiet determination in his eyes, the way he held his ground, as if fighting for some sense of order in a world that often felt beyond his control.

“It’s fine; I have a jacket, see?” Sakura continued, flipping the hood onto her head in an attempt to make a point. She wanted him to stop worrying, but Sasuke wasn’t fooled. His sharp gaze flicked to the flimsy fabric of her jacket, the cotton darkening in patches from the rain that clung to it. Did she really plan to shield herself with that? Did this country girl not realize that cotton was practically useless against the relentless downpour?

But before Sasuke could voice his concerns, Sakura flashed him a bright smile. “I’ll see you at home!” She called over her shoulder as she turned, already walking away. 

Sakura was going to slip away before he had a chance to refuse her offer, just as she always did when she couldn’t turn the offer into a request for help. This time, Sasuke acted swiftly; his fingers reached out and caught hold of her wrist, closing around it with a quiet intensity that startled her.

Sakura’s body jerked backward in surprise; her back fell against Sasuke’s chest with a soft thud. The unexpected contact caused a muffled grunt to escape her lips as she instinctively tensed.

“Hey!” Sakura exclaimed just as Sasuke let go of her hand and opened the umbrella, positioning it to cover both of them.

“I know how to share, you know,” Sasuke replied, looking at her with a pointed look. 

Based on her experience living with him, Sakura couldn’t help but doubt his words. Her roommate might be aware of such a concept, but sharing was never Sasuke’s strong suit.

“It’s too small, though,” she protested weakly. 

The umbrella, designed to shelter just one person, seemed woefully inadequate for two. But it could technically still protect them both—if they stayed really close together, shoulder to shoulder.

Sasuke seemed to recognize this as well, because he subtly adjusted their positions as they walked into the rain, bringing them closer under the canopy. The small gesture wasn’t lost on Sakura, and she instinctively leaned away, risking getting her shoulder wet in an attempt to maintain a little distance between them. But before she could create much space, Sasuke’s arm slipped around her shoulders, pulling her gently into his side, keeping her there.

Sakura froze, her breath hitching at the unexpected contact. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers, the quiet strength of his arm as it held her close. The umbrella was now effectively shielding them both from the rain.  

“What if someone sees us?” She asked in a panic, her cheeks flushing a bright crimson as she glanced nervously around. The sensation of being so close to him—so exposed—set her on edge, her thoughts spinning with the weight of their unspoken rule.

Sasuke, despite being the one who had been enforcing that rule about avoiding each other in public, seemed entirely unfazed. He shrugged nonchalantly, his tone as indifferent as ever. “It’s raining; no one’s around,” he stated, as if it were the simplest, most logical explanation in the world.

Sakura’s eyes widened at his reply. For someone who usually insisted on keeping their relationship private, Sasuke seemed surprisingly unconcerned about being seen together like this. 

Even through the haze of the rain, Sasuke could feel the weight of a gaze upon them as if it were an invisible thread pulling at his awareness. He turned his head just slightly, catching sight of the pale guy in the distance, watching them. 

The enigmatic smile directed his way was disconcerting, and a subtle unease settled in the pit of his stomach. It was as if by allowing their closeness to be visible, Sasuke had unwittingly conceded something to the other man. But Sasuke couldn’t care less in that moment. His glare cut sharply in the pale man’s direction, daring him to look away.

Sakura nervously hid her face in embarrassment as they passed by. Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, the flush creeping down her neck as she avoided meeting the pale guy’s gaze directly. Yet his smile only widened, his hand lifting in a casual wave that made Sakura’s stomach sink. She could already imagine Ino bombarding her with questions the next day, each one more intrusive than the last. 

As they turned the corner toward the main street, the tension momentarily broke, and Sakura heaved a sigh of relief.

“Who was that?” Her roommate’s familiar voice cut through the sound of the rain.

“You mean Sai? He’s a friend,” Sakura replied, her tone carefully casual. But Sasuke caught the faint edge of annoyance in her voice. It wasn’t just the comment itself—it was the subtle way her shoulders stiffened, a tell he had come to recognize over time.

Sasuke registered the name, letting it settle in his mind like a puzzle piece yet to find its place as he observed Sakura closely. The puzzled expression flickering across her face didn’t escape him. It was as if she had caught herself, a silent acknowledgment of her tendency to overshare, something she had been consciously trying to rein in. 

In the early days of living together, Sakura had been a whirlwind of words, filling the air between them with a constant stream of chatter. She spoke about anything and everything—details about her day, idle musings, even questions that strayed dangerously close to being too personal. She had been all too aware of the way Sasuke’s subtle frowns or quiet sighs betrayed his annoyance, but she couldn’t help herself. The silence had felt heavy then, pressing down on her like a weight she was desperate to lift.

But lately, something has shifted between them. The once-awkward silences had evolved into moments of quiet understanding, where words were no longer necessary to bridge the gap.  The hush that settled over their shared spaces was no longer oppressive but peaceful, as if they had discovered an unspoken rhythm to their lives together. Sakura had also grown more attuned to Sasuke’s preferences, sharing only what she believed he would find relevant or important.

“You never mentioned him before,” Sasuke remarked.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in listening,” Sakura admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, as if gauging his reaction.

Sasuke’s frown deepened at her response, a subtle crease forming between his brows. “And why wouldn’t I be?” He asked.

Did she not want me to know about Sai?

The thought struck him unexpectedly, sparking a faint flicker of unease in the back of his mind.

Why?

What Sasuke failed to understand was that Sai—someone he’d never met and shared no similarities with—didn’t strike Sakura as someone Sasuke’d find remotely interesting. In her mind, bringing him up would have been pointless, like recounting a mundane anecdote to an indifferent audience. And yet, her roommate’s sudden interest in this particular friend now left her puzzled.

Sakura glanced down at the pavement, the rain leaving glistening trails against the uneven surface. “I just thought you’d be bored,” Sakura confessed quietly. “You don’t often say much when I talk about my friend and what they’re up to.”

Sasuke turned his head, his eyes falling on her profile. There was a self-consciousness in her expression that felt out of place, as if it didn’t belong on the Sakura he thought he knew. In his mind, she had always been the confident, cheerful girl who could brighten any room with her energy. But now, seeing her like this—hesitant, unsure—he couldn’t help but wonder if he was the reason she didn’t talk to him as much as before.  

“I often... don't know how to respond accordingly,” he admitted after a moment. Social interactions had never been his strong suit, and he knew it. Words that seemed unnecessary or obvious to him were often left unspoken, but he was beginning to realize how much those silences might have affected her.

“…But I don’t hate listening to you.”

Living with someone as talkative as Sakura had been a drastic change from the quiet solitude of his parents’ house. Back then, silence was the norm, a constant companion that framed his days in calm predictability. But Sakura had turned that world upside down with her relentless chatter, filling every empty space with words. At first, Sasuke had found it overwhelming, like stepping into a storm he hadn’t prepared for. The sheer energy she brought felt foreign, almost intrusive.

But gradually, Sasuke began to realize something unexpected—he didn’t really hate it. In fact, listening to Sakura’s animated and sometimes dramatic retellings of her days, punctuated by the occasional complaint or wild tangent, had quietly become a rhythm he looked forward to in the monotony of his otherwise routine life.

“You don’t?” She asked softly, tilting her head to peek up at him, her expression shy yet hopeful. The rain shimmered against her flushed cheeks, and her green eyes held a flicker of something fragile, as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe him.

Sasuke swallowed dryly, feeling a slight pang of consciousness under the weight of Sakura’s gaze. He grunted in confirmation, keeping his eyes focused ahead on the vibrant hydrangea flowers blooming along the roadside—white, blue, and pink hues blending beautifully under the overcast sky.

For so long, Sakura had misinterpreted Sasuke’s lack of reaction as disinterest, as if her words had simply bounced off him without leaving a mar. But now, in the quiet intimacy of their moment under the umbrella, she realized he was listening in his own quiet way.

The realization left a pang of regret twisting in her chest. How many times and stories had she held back from sharing because she thought they wouldn’t matter to him? 

Too many.

The distance she had unintentionally created between them now felt unnecessary, almost foolish in hindsight, and Sakura vowed silently to change that. From now on, she would make an effort to update Sasuke on her days, to share her thoughts and let him into her world without hesitation. Then perhaps, in time, he would feel comfortable enough to open up to her as well.

“I actually met Sai through Ino,” Sakura began, her voice lighter now as she turned her head to glance at Sasuke. “I’ve mentioned Ino before, right?”

He gave a small nod, his expression neutral but attentive, signaling for her to continue.

“They had the same psychology class, and they just hit it off from there,” Sakura explained, her tone laced with mild amusement. “She swears up and down that he’s some kind of sweet talker, but honestly?” She rolled her eyes for emphasis. “I think she’s just blinded by his looks and his stupid fake smile.”

Oh, so she is aware of Sai’s charm—or lack thereof. Sasuke hadn’t expected that. He might have underestimated her there. Weirdly, he felt a sense of relief that his roommate wasn’t easily swayed by this Sai guy. It was irrational, perhaps, but the thought eased a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.

“Sounded like you hate the guy,” Sasuke remarked quietly. His tone was neutral, yet there was an unmistakable curiosity threading through his words.

Sakura paused mid-rant, her expression softening as his observation settled over her. She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, especially with Sasuke’s undivided attention on her, and it made her second-guess how she’d come across.

“It’s not like I hate him,” she said finally, her voice quieter now. She shifted her gaze downward, watching the rainwater splash around her shoes. “He’s very good at getting on my nerves but..." Her words trailed off, a soft smile curving her lips. The kind of smile that hinted at fond memories tucked away, even if they were wrapped in exasperation. “He’s a good person and a good boyfriend.”

Sakura’s words landed with an invisible weight, like a blow Sasuke hadn’t anticipated. His grip on the umbrella handle tightened just a fraction—a subtle reaction he didn’t even notice himself. Despite his best efforts to maintain a neutral facade, a sharp pang of jealousy clawed at his chest, unsettling him in a way he couldn’t ignore.

He had grown accustomed to Sakura’s presence. Their moments together—quiet or chaotic—had become a part of his world, and the idea of someone else occupying her thoughts, sharing her time in a way he couldn't—didn’t... it twisted something deep inside him.

His jaw tightened, the tension coiling through his body like a spring wound too tight. The rain continued its soft, rhythmic patter against the umbrella, but Sasuke’s mind was anything but calm. 

Was this really a surprise? He had suspected there was something between Sakura and Sai ever since he first noticed them spending time alone together. And now, her words—simple, unassuming—confirmed what he hadn’t wanted to admit.

But in the end, Sasuke knew the real asshole in this situation was him. He had been selfish and childish. He’d allowed himself to stew over Sakura’s relationship with someone he had never even bothered to get to know. What right did he have to feel jealous or resentful? 

So what if his roommate was dating this Sai guy? Sasuke couldn’t dictate who Sakura chose to be with, nor could he deny her the right to pursue her own happiness. Who was he to her to stand in the way?

His grip on the umbrella eased, his shoulders loosening as he let out a quiet breath, yet the heavy rock still settled in his stomach. He’d been unfair, even if only in his thoughts. She deserved better than that from him—someone who had taken her presence for granted more times than he cared to admit.

“I just hope Sai knows being Ino’s boyfriend is going to be a full-time job with unpaid overtime,” Sakura quipped, a wry grin on her face.

Wait a minute.

“That Sai guy is dating your friend?” Sasuke asked, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. A wave of surprise and confusion rippled through him, crashing over his carefully maintained composure.

Sakura blinked, startled by his sudden question, then tilted her head with a curious smile. “Yeah,” Sakura confirmed with a nod, her expression lightening up as she talked about them. “It’s still all pretty new, but they can be kind of adorable sometimes.” She paused, then added with a hint of playful exaggeration, “And vomit-inducing with their PDA.”

The realization hit Sasuke so suddenly he felt like he might get whiplash. The pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place—Sai’s connection to Sakura through Ino, the subtle hints he had missed, and the underlying tension he had felt. It explained why Sakura had been spending more time with Sai lately.

“He gave you an umbrella.” The question slipped out before he could stop it, occupied with processing the new information about Sai. Luckily, Sakura didn’t seem to notice his strange tone.

“Oh, this?” Sakura laughed lightly, a soft, airy sound that didn’t quite match the irritation flickering in her eyes. “I made him give it to me. There was no way he would voluntarily do it otherwise.”

Sakura recalled the exchange with Sai vividly—the fake friendly smile, the reluctant compliance, and the “thinly veiled” insults disguised as questions about why he had to give his umbrella to someone ugly like her. The memories stirred a flicker of frustration in Sakura, and she closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to quell her rising temper. Sakura tried to reason that it was worth putting her patience and sanity on the line for her dear, blonde friend. 

“Ino’s class ended around now, so those two lovebirds are probably sharing her umbrella right as we speak,” Sakura remarked casually, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Knowing Sai’s pragmatic nature, Sakura knew he wouldn’t see the point in sharing Ino’s umbrella if he still had his own. So, she had taken it upon herself to remove that barrier.

Sasuke’s lips pressed into a thin line, trying to make sense of her reasoning. “Why did you have to do all that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Because it’s romantic, of course!” Sakura replied with a playful smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Ino had been talking about her failed attempts nonstop since the start of the rainy season.”

Oh. 

That was the moment Sasuke became acutely aware of their current situation.

It was easy to see how sharing an umbrella could be romantic between two people in a relationship. But they were simply roommates—two people who had learned to live together out of convenience, not affection. Could a simple gesture of closeness carry a romantic undertone, even if neither had ever considered it before?

Sasuke couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in his stomach. Despite their comfortable closeness as roommates and friends, he found himself suddenly hyper-aware of the way they were together. 

His arm remained around Sakura, a gesture that was almost second nature a few minutes ago, but now it felt laden with unspoken questions and a strange tension. He wanted to let go with how clammy his hand was getting from his nervousness, but wouldn’t that just make it weird? Especially after Sakura’s comment about romance? Or should he continue as if nothing had changed, ignoring the newfound awareness between them? Was he thinking too much about this? Was she aware of any of this, too?

Sasuke tensed when Sakura suddenly grabbed his hand that was holding the umbrella, the unexpected contact jolting through him. He almost flinched, his fingers tightening instinctively around the handle as he glanced down at their intertwined hands, startled by her sudden proximity. What—?

“Uchiha-san, your shoulder is getting wet,” Sakura pointed out, her voice soft as she guided his hand to his side.

Sasuke’s initial confusion melted into concern as he watched Sakura adjust their position under the umbrella. In her effort to shield him from the rain, Sakura’s own shoulder became exposed to the droplets falling from above.

Recovered quickly, Sasuke moved the umbrella back closer to Sakura’s side, a subtle urgency in his actions. “You’re going to get sick,” he countered firmly, almost protective. The memory of Sakura collapsing from fever just a few days ago still haunted him, and he was determined not to let that happen again, especially so soon.

“I’ve recovered, which means I’m unlikely to get sick again, but the same can’t be said for you,” Sakura argued, gently pushing the umbrella towards his side, the rain now soaking her sleeves.

“I’m not going to get sick, and that’s not how it works,” Sasuke insisted, his hand gripping the umbrella’s handle firmly as he moved it back towards her side. His voice was steady, but his eyes flickered with a hint of frustration.

“I’m the medical student here,” Sakura retorted, her tone growing more insistent, nudging the umbrella back towards him once more.

Sasuke clicked his tongue in irritation. He had no argument left, but he moved the umbrella back anyway. “Don’t be stubborn, Haruno.”

Sakura’s tone turned indignant, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of annoyance. “I’m not being stubborn; you are!” The words left her lips quicker than she intended, her heartbeat quickening with the rush of emotion then—

CRACK!

A sharp sound broke through the tension, loud and jarring. Both of them froze, their eyes widening in disbelief as their gazes locked on the broken umbrella lying discarded on the ground. Sasuke still gripped the handle tightly, but the umbrella had snapped in half, leaving them both exposed to the pouring rain.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, as if the shock had stolen the very words from their tongues. The only sound that filled the heavy silence was the relentless patter of raindrops, splattering against the ground around them and soaking their clothes and hair as they stood under the fractured umbrella.

As if the broken umbrella wasn’t enough to make the situation feel surreal, a black car sped past them out of nowhere, sending a wave of puddle water splashing in their direction, drenching them from head to toe. The unexpected deluge left them staring at each other in utter bewilderment, their clothes clinging uncomfortably to their bodies.

Their earlier argument over the umbrella now seemed utterly futile as they stood there, rain-soaked and stunned. Without a word, Sasuke and Sakura exchanged a glance. Both quietly abandoned the idea of salvaging their soaked clothes and instead made a mad dash toward a nearby convenience store.

Sakura felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she stepped into the store, water squelching in her shoes with every step, the cold squish making her cringe. The warmth of the store’s interior did little to soothe the discomfort of her clinging clothes. The staff behind the counter glanced up, their expressions a mix of surprise and bemusement as they took in her soaked appearance. It was as if all the attention in the tiny, empty store had suddenly zeroed in on her.

Sakura couldn’t bear to meet their eyes, her embarrassment almost tangible in the air around her as she hurriedly made her way to the umbrellas. She grabbed the closest ones she could find, not caring much about the color or style, desperate to shield herself from any further humiliation.

The store remained eerily silent except for the soft hum of the refrigerators and the occasional  faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead. 

Trying to ignore the sensation of water steadily dripping down her neck and back, Sakura forced herself to take quick, purposeful steps toward the counter. The staff members exchanged a glance but said nothing, silently scanning the umbrellas and swiftly accepting Sakura’s payment with minimal words, as though they had seen countless awkward, rain-soaked customers before her. 

After the seemingly never-ending three minutes in the store, Sakura finally emerged with two, cheaply made umbrellas in hand. She handed one to Sasuke, who had been waiting outside, looking somehow worse than she was.

Without a word, they began the walk home under their separate umbrellas, their steps synchronized despite the distance that lingered between them, an invisible wall built from shared embarrassment and the oddity of their situation. Passersby glanced at them curiously, their expressions a mix of puzzlement and amusement, as if they couldn’t quite figure out whether the scene was humorous or sad, seeing two drenched individuals attempting to shield themselves from the rain with flimsy umbrellas.

Halfway through their journey, as rain continued to patter down around them, both Sasuke and Sakura found themselves silently questioning if it might have been better to simply brave the rain together, without the flimsy umbrellas at all.

Sasuke glanced sideways at Sakura, his eyes briefly tracing the wet strands of her hair that clung to her face, the raindrops mixing with the flush of embarrassment still coloring her cheeks. He noticed the slight shiver that ran through her. Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. There was something oddly comforting about the moment.

Sasuke didn’t know if it was romantic earlier when they were sharing an umbrella, but it was for sure anything but that right now. Nevertheless, despite the awkwardness and the mishaps of the day, Sasuke knew deep down that he wouldn’t trade these moments with Sakura for anything else. 

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

“I told you so!” Her voice rang out, cutting through the haze of his fever. Sasuke glanced up at her from his futon, his dark eyes dull and unfocused.

She was right—she did tell him he would get sick instead of her, and now here he was, bedridden and utterly miserable. The sharp sting of her words wasn’t lost on him, though it was hard to feel anything clearly through the thick fog of sickness.

Previously, he didn’t care if he got sick—he welcomed it, even. A part of him wanted her to experience the same mix of anxiety and frustration he felt while watching over her like this, helpless, vulnerable, and uncertain. But now he couldn’t help but regret those fleeting thoughts. Even for the sake of revenge, it wasn’t worth it.

“Don’t be ridiculous; I’m fine." Sasuke rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, each word a struggle against the tightness in his throat. Even as he said it, he knew how hollow the words sounded, more for his pride than anything else.

He was not fine. His body ached as though he’d been trampled underfoot, his limbs too heavy to move. Every breath felt like dragging air through a sieve, and his head throbbed with a dull, relentless rhythm. His vision blurred when he tried to focus on her, and the concern etched on her face wavered like a mirage. The room seemed too bright, the edges of reality blurring with the heat radiating off his fevered skin.

Through the haze of his fever, Sasuke caught the faint movement of his roommate shaking her head, her expression a mix of disapproval and reluctant concern. Her features were softening and sharpening in turn as his fevered vision fought to keep her in focus.

“Honestly, you’re so stubborn sometimes,” she muttered, exhaling in frustration.

He wanted to roll his eyes, but even that felt like too much effort. If he had the strength, he’d say the same thing to her.

“Sweating is good, but it’s going to get uncomfortable in a damp shirt,” she continued, her tone brisk but edged with care. She kneeled beside him, holding up a neatly folded shirt. “You need to change your shirt so you can sleep properly.” 

Sasuke turned his head, fixing his gaze on the far wall. The pale light of the late afternoon streamed through the window, too harsh against his pounding head. Shame prickled beneath his fevered skin. He hated this—he hated feeling so weak, so dependent, especially with her watching.

“Go away, Haruno,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and barely audible as he turned to face the wall and shut her out.

A heavy sigh left her lips, but she didn’t move away. Instead, Sasuke felt the light touch of her dainty fingers wrapping around his wrist. Her skin was cool, a stark contrast to the heat burning through his veins, and he flinched instinctively.

“Stop being difficult,” she said, her voice gentler now, though still firm. She tried to pull him into a sitting position, her determination evident in the way she dug her heels into the floor for leverage. But he was too heavy, his body limp and uncooperative.

“Can’t you see I’m sick?” Sasuke shot back, his tone sharper than he intended, a rough edge born of irritation and exhaustion.

“So you’re admitting it?” She challenged, her voice carrying a triumphant lilt.

He responded only with a weak click of his tongue, the sound barely audible over his shallow breaths. How annoying…

She was sick not long ago, and now it was his turn. This must prove that neither of them are idiots, so why does he feel like one right now?

With a grudging sigh, Sasuke began to move. Every inch of his body protested, joints stiff and muscles aching as if weighed down by lead. Slowly, painstakingly, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The effort left him winded, and he glanced at her through half-lidded eyes, silently asking, Are you happy now?

She didn’t react to his silent protest; her attention was already focused on the task at hand.

“Alright, raise your arms,” she instructed as she kneeled back down next to him, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Sasuke, however, didn’t move a muscle. His arms remained firmly at his sides, his defiance clear. If she wanted stubborn, he’d show her stubborn.

As if sensing his silent rebellion, Sakura exhaled forcefully through her nose. Without a word, she leaned in, her hands darting toward him. Her fingers brushed against his fevered skin as she reached for the hem of his shirt.

The sudden coolness of her touch sent an unexpected shiver racing up his spine, cutting through the oppressive heat radiating from his body. His breath hitched, but he quickly masked the reaction, turning his gaze away from her.

She didn’t pause, her movements swift but not rough as she pulled the shirt up and over his head. The faint floral scent of her hair wafted closer, mingling with the damp, stale smell of sweat clinging to him. It was a quiet reminder of how disheveled he must have looked and smelled, and it only heightened his self-consciousness. The cool air against his bare skin felt sharp as he avoided meeting her gaze.

“Here you go,” Sakura said, handing him the shirt. However, her eyes didn’t manage to stay on him for long as she tried to suppress a blush. 

Sasuke’s dark eyes flickered to the garment in her outstretched hands, and regret instantly pooled in his chest. Sitting up had already drained what little energy he had left, and the idea of actually putting the shirt on felt insurmountable. Just the thought of raising his arms made his shoulders ache.

Before Sakura could say anything else, Sasuke began to lean back toward the futon, eager to escape the unbearable effort of sitting upright.

“Wait, not yet!” Sakura exclaimed; her voice panicked as she noticed his intent.

She immediately grabbed his wrists, tugging him upright with a surprising burst of determination. But the sudden momentum sent his weakened body toppling forward. His head landed squarely on her shoulder, the weight of him heavy and undeniable.

“U-Uchiha-san!” Sakura stammered, her voice rising an octave in shock. “W-what are you—?”

Sasuke didn’t move. The coolness of her skin against his fevered cheek was too soothing to give up. His breathing slowed, the subtle rise and fall of his chest brushing against her, steady but faint.

His dark lashes fluttered against her collarbone, the delicate, featherlight movement barely perceptible yet impossibly intimate. His warm breath fanned across her neck, the gentle exhale sending an unexpected tickling sensation skittering across her skin. Sakura’s entire body tensed, her breath catching in her throat as an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. Goosebumps prickled along her arms, the sudden rush of awareness rooting her in place, leaving her heart pounding in her chest.

“You’re burning up, Haruno,” Sasuke mumbled, his voice low and muffled against the crook of her neck. “You‘re sure you’re not sick?”

The quiet rasp of his voice, so close and warm against her skin, unraveled her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. His words lingered in the charged space between them, wrapping around her like a tether she wasn’t sure how to—or if she even wanted to—break.

From the proximity, Sasuke could hear the rapid pounding of her heart in his ear, feel it vibrating against his chest. Each beat was drumming louder and faster, as though it might escape her ribcage.

A brief, charged silence passed before she finally regained her composure. With a huff of determination and embarrassment, Sakura shoved him back onto the futon with far less care than before.

“Y-you—!” She exclaimed accusingly, her voice high and flustered. Suddenly, she scrambled to her feet and darted outside. “I'll be back!”

The sound of the front door being open echoed through the small room, leaving Sasuke alone once more.

He landed unceremoniously on the futon, the impact barely registering through the haze of exhaustion. But despite the rough handling, a smug smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

His gaze drifted to the forgotten shirt lying next to him, but he made no move to touch it. Instead, he closed his eyes, replaying the way her heartbeat had quickened in his ears, relishing it.

Being a caring person, Sasuke knew Sakura would be back to give him his medicine, or maybe she’d even try her luck at making him change his pants. Either way, he wondered how he would mess with her then. 

Maybe being sick wasn’t too bad.

Chapter Text

Sakura was in a predicament. 

Despite promising herself to place more of her trust in Sasuke, this particular issue was one she couldn’t bring herself to share with him if she wanted to handle it correctly.

Sakura let out a sigh as if the gesture could lessen some of the stress she was carrying, but all it did was make her blonde companion glance over. Ino arched a perfectly shaped brow and scoffed lightly at how dramatic Sakura’s reaction was. Choosing not to pry, she continued chatting as their footsteps mingled with the hum of life on the bustling campus. 

As they rounded the corner, however, the chatter of students melted into the background when a familiar figure caught Sakura’s eye, causing her to freeze mid-step.

Uchiha Itachi.

His calm, commanding demeanor made his presence seem almost unreal. Seeing him here felt out of place and Sakura couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing here on campus until a memory resurfaced: Sasuke did mention something about dinner with his brother a day ago.

The man was leaning against a wall as he waited for Sasuke, his posture deceptively relaxed. But even in his casual attire, Itachi stood out amidst the noisy throng of students weaving across the campus. From the poised way he stood, arms crossed loosely but with purpose, to the steady, contemplative gaze that softened his sharp features, he radiated an understated regality that commanded attention without effort. 

Although caught off guard at first, a spark of excitement flickered in Sakura’s chest. This was actually perfect. Sakura needed to talk to him anyway.

But before she could gather her thoughts, a familiar sing-song voice cut through her mental haze. “Ooooh, who’s that?” Ino teased, her tone laced with mischief as she nudged Sakura’s side with an elbow, snapping Sakura out of her trance. Heat crept up her neck to her cheeks, and Sakura instinctively glanced away. Of course, Ino wouldn’t let this slide.

“It’s no one,” Sakura replied a beat too quickly, brushing off Ino’s curiosity with a wave of her hand. “We’ve only met once.”

Sakura stole another glance at him, her heartbeat quickening. Itachi stood calm and composed, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to the attention he drew.

“Hm?” Ino hummed, a sly grin spread across her face. “Then why are you looking at him like that?”

“Like what?!” Sakura snapped, her voice rising an octave as her heart skipped a beat.

“Like you want to go ask for his number, what else?” Ino teased, her eyes sparkling with unrestrained amusement. Before Sakura could protest, Ino gave her a playful shove forward, her laughter bubbling up like a melody meant to provoke.

Sakura stumbled slightly, then whirled around and slapped Ino lightly on the arm. “Stop it!” she exclaimed, her face burning.

Ino’s laughter only grew louder. But even as they continued walking, Sakura’s thoughts spiraled, caught on the thread of an idea that had taken root in the moments before.

“Maybe I should ask for his number instead,” Ino mused, her tone breezy. She gave Sakura another nudge, her grin turning impish. “I could always use a bit more pocket money.”

Sakura shot her a half-hearted scowl. “Lay off the side jobs, Ino. Not everyone’s into papa-katsu for you to wring money out of.”

“Well, not with that attitude!” Ino flashed a wide, unapologetic grin, but when Sakura didn’t even crack a smile, she raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’m kidding!”

Sakura rolled her eyes.

“But seriously,” Ino added, tilting her head toward the man in question, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He does look like he has money.”

Sakura shook her head, exhaling a long, resigned sigh. How Sai managed to put up with Ino’s often unconventional sense of humor—especially when it veered into her infamous side business—was beyond her.

Sensing the tension in her friend, Ino decided it was time to make her exit. Besides, Sai was probably waiting for her anyway.

“I’m expecting a full report on this soon, okay?” Ino declared, her tone teasing but underlined with genuine encouragement. “Preferably tomorrow, but I guess that depends on today’s developments.”

“Ino!” Sakura protested, her voice laced with embarrassment as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. Her mortification only fueled Ino’s laughter, which rang out brightly as she waved over her shoulder and walked away, her blonde hair swaying.

Left alone, Sakura turned her attention back toward Itachi. She drew in a steadying breath and gathered every ounce of courage she could muster. With determination in her steps, she approached him, her heartbeat quickening with each one. Though his posture was relaxed, there was a quiet vigilance in the way he held himself, as though nothing escaped his notice.

Sure enough, as she closed the distance, she caught the faintest flicker in his dark eyes. Sakura was sure he had been aware of her and Ino’s presence all along, though he had chosen not to acknowledge it.

Feeling a twinge of disappointment at Itachi’s seemingly cold demeanor, Sakura reminded herself that Itachi was likely following the protocol they had asked of him—to uphold the number one rule.

Suppressing her nerves, Sakura stopped a respectful distance away from him. She cleared her throat softly; the sound almost drowned out by the surrounding campus noise.

“Good afternoon, Uchiha-san,” she said, her voice just a touch hesitant as she raised a hand in a small, polite wave.

Itachi’s gaze softened slightly at her approach, and though it was clear he found it unusual for his brother’s roommate to approach him directly, he greeted her with a quiet warmth that caught Sakura off guard. If this was a fake smile, Sakura couldn’t tell, unlike the one Sai usually wore.

“How are you, Haruno-san?”

Sakura’s response was quick but faltered on her lips. “I’m… well,” she said, her words lacking the usual confidence. She couldn’t quite shake the flutter of nerves in her stomach, but she forced herself to maintain composure. Itachi’s perceptive eyes, however, didn’t miss the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her hands fidgeted at her sides.

He could tell something was weighing on her mind. There was an unease in her gaze, a hesitation he couldn’t ignore. In that case, perhaps he could lend a hand of assistance.

With a calm and reassuring tone, Itachi continued, "Is everything okay?"

Sakura’s gaze darted away, avoiding his eyes as her words tumbled out. “Yes, everything is fine,” she replied, though she could feel his steady gaze on her, noticing every little shift.

Itachi noted her half-hearted answer. But he remained silent and waited patiently as Sakura gathered her thoughts. 

After a long pause, as though afraid of wasting any more of his time, Sakura finally found her voice, her words sharp with sudden determination. “I’m sorry in advance if this is too sudden, but... can I have your number?”

The question lingered in the air, almost tangible in its quiet intensity. Sakura held her breath, her heart pounding in her ears as she anxiously awaited his response, hoping the silence wouldn’t stretch on too long.

Now, this is an interesting development, Itachi thought. His sharp, calculating gaze rested on Sakura as his mind raced to piece together the puzzle before him. This girl was just one surprise after another

They had all agreed to keep the nature of her arrangement with Sasuke a secret to avoid any indication of familiarity on campus. So, why was she now asking for his contact information? 

Surely, she must be doing this behind his brother’s back, because otherwise, she could have just asked Sasuke for it directly. The logical course of action was to politely refuse her request.

Yet, despite the caution whispering at the back of his mind, Itachi found himself answering with an unexpected calm.

“Of course, Haruno-san.” 

After all, he could get a lot of information just from a phone number. Given his brother’s arrangement, perhaps it was prudent to conduct a little background check.

Sakura’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. It was clear she hadn’t expected him to agree so readily, and the joy that lit up her face was almost disarming. “Really?” she asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and excitement. She took a half-step closer, too eager to express her gratitude. “Thank you, Uchiha-san! There’s actually something I need to talk to you about.”

Itachi nodded subtly, his expression a practiced mask of unreadability as he handed her his phone to exchange numbers. As they did, he listened attentively to Sakura’s words.

He didn’t really get much of a first impression of her during their first meeting, assuming she was merely Sasuke’s roommate without considering the extent of her influence or closeness to his brother. But he was slowly realizing he might have underestimated her. 

Sasuke’s minimal mention of her only made Itachi further reconsider, and the more he considered it, the more he found himself rethinking the nature of their relationship. Maybe she played a bigger role in Sasuke’s life than Itachi had initially thought, and that made her far more intriguing than he’d given her credit for.

“Is that okay with you?” Sakura asked tentatively, the nervousness creeping back into her voice. Her gaze searched his face for any sign of judgment or reluctance.

“It’s fine by me,” Itachi replied with a casual shrug.

The moment his confirmation left his lips, Sakura practically vibrated with anticipation, her eyes bright with relief. In that moment, she seemed on the verge of jumping up to hug him in gratitude, but she quickly restrained the impulse to not embarrass him in public. 

“Thank you for your number, Uchiha-san. I will text you the details later.”

“For what?” 

Sakura whipped around in surprise as the sharp voice cut through the air. There stood Sasuke, his brow furrowed in a mix of suspicion and irritation, his piercing gaze shifting between her and Itachi. His posture was stiff, and his expression carried the kind of intensity that made it clear he wasn’t fond of this interaction.

“Uchiha-san!” Sakura greeted, her voice catching slightly as her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected interruption. She hadn’t anticipated him showing up now, and the sudden shift in the atmosphere left her momentarily off-balance.

“We agreed not to talk to each other on campus!” Sakura said quickly, her words tumbling out in an attempt to deflect Sasuke’s sharp gaze and turn his attention away from the situation with Itachi.

Sasuke’s expression darkened as he folded his arms across his chest, his body language radiating suspicion. He had half a mind to remind her that she was the one breaking the rule first. “Then why were you talking to my brother?” he challenged, his tone tinged with accusation.

Sakura’s lips parted, but she couldn’t find the right words. Her mind scrambled as a flurry of excuses raced through her head, but none of them sounded convincing. “I-I just thought it was rude to not at least say hi, that’s all,” she stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush. She clung to the hope that her explanation would suffice, but deep down, she could feel the weight of Sasuke’s scrutiny growing heavier.

Itachi chuckled quietly. He appreciated Sakura’s quick thinking under pressure, even if the lie was far from convincing.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes at her response. His tone turned colder now as he pressed for a more honest explanation. “You can already do that in person. Why do you need his number to text later?”

Sakura swallowed nervously, her mind racing for another excuse to stave off Sasuke’s suspicion, but before she could speak, another voice cut through the tension like a cool breeze.

“That’s because I asked for her number,” Itachi chimed in smoothly, coming to Sakura’s rescue just as she struggled to come up with more lies.

Sasuke’s gaze snapped to his older brother, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief and a flicker of betrayal flashing across his face. “You did?” he questioned skeptically.

Sakura, equally taken aback by Itachi’s unexpected declaration, blinked at him in surprise. She hadn’t anticipated that Itachi would take the initiative to deflect Sasuke’s questions on her behalf, but she found herself nodding sheepishly in agreement, unsure whether to be grateful or embarrassed by the sudden shift in their dynamic.

“Emergency contact,” Itachi explained calmly. “You barely answer my texts, Sasuke. This is just in case something ever happens.”

Sakura stared at Itachi in awe, silently impressed by his ability to improvise and cover for her in such a convincing manner. If left to her own devices, she doubted she could have concocted such a plausible lie.

Sasuke, however, wasn’t so easily disarmed. His expression softened only slightly at Itachi’s explanation, but the trace of suspicion still lingered in his eyes. He observed Sakura and Itachi closely, his gaze flickering back and forth between them. There was something in the way they exchanged glances, something unspoken that seemed to exclude him, and the feeling left him unsettled.

“You seem awfully happy to be an emergency contact,” Sasuke remarked, his voice laced with a subtle edge.

“Not really,” Sakura replied quickly, her earlier excitement replaced by a rush of anxiety as she felt the weight of Sasuke’s scrutiny, aware that her behavior might be raising more questions than answers.

The moment Itachi’s gaze locked with hers, Sakura understood the unspoken message. It was time to leave before Sasuke’s suspicions deepened any further.

“I actually have to get going now, but I’ll see you later, Uchiha-san,” Sakura said, forcing a smile that barely masked the flutter of nerves twisting in her stomach. She tried to sound casual, but the hurried way she turned on her heel and bolted away at full speed made it clear she was doing everything in her power to avoid drawing more attention. Sasuke’s penetrating gaze lingered on her, but she didn’t dare slow down, not wanting to give him any more of a chance to question her.

Logic told him she was addressing him, but Sasuke couldn’t shake the small chance that Sakura’s farewell was directed at his brother instead.

He shook the thought away as his attention snapped back to his brother’s calm, collected voice. “Ready to go, Sasuke?”

Sasuke didn’t answer immediately. Only when he was sure Sakura was out of earshot did he turn back to Itachi, his brow furrowed in quiet frustration.

“What was she going to text you about?” Sasuke asked, his voice tight with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

Itachi glanced over at his brother, a faint smile playing on his lips. He found it somewhat endearing how concerned Sasuke was about the whole situation. Sasuke never seems to care a lot about his dear older brother’s affair, but he would become visibly bothered when Sakura was involved.

Suppressing the urge to laugh, Itachi responded in his usual calm, collected tone. “Details for our date.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Sasuke’s expression shifted dramatically. His brow furrowed in disbelief, and annoyance quickly replaced the curiosity that had been there moments before. Sasuke’s eyes darkened as he scowled at his older brother, clearly irritated by the implication.

Itachi couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Sasuke’s reaction, the edges of his calm facade slipping for just a moment. He found it endlessly amusing how transparent Sasuke could be when it came to matters involving Sakura, despite all his efforts to maintain that stoic, unflappable exterior.

“Don’t joke,” Sasuke retorted, his tone serious yet tinged with a hint of defensiveness.

Itachi, however, wasn’t fazed. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smile. “How do you know I’m not telling the truth?” he countered smoothly.

“Because she’s not that type of girl,” Sasuke replied firmly.

“And what type of girl is that, Sasuke?” Itachi prodded, genuinely curious about his brother’s perceptions of Sakura and their dynamic.

Sasuke clicked his tongue in disapproval at Itachi’s jovial tone. “She has a boyfriend already; this isn’t right,” he insisted, his expression serious now, as if the matter had suddenly become more personal.

Itachi hummed thoughtfully, the gears in his mind turning as he processed this new piece of information. This didn’t quite align with the assumptions he had made about Sakura’s personal life.

“Did she tell you that?” Itachi inquired calmly.

There was a stubborn silence as Sasuke weighed his words, contemplating how much he should reveal to his older brother. Irritation flashed through his features as he seemed to recall the moment he made the discovery. He could still picture the image of Sakura, her phone pressed to her ear, her eyes crinkling with warmth. Her laugh was different, unguarded, one that wasn’t for him.

Sasuke exhaled sharply through his nose, as if releasing the tension that had been building in him.

“No, but I’ve seen her talking on the phone with this guy all the time,” Sasuke admitted at last, his voice carrying a thread of unease he couldn’t entirely mask. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the idea of Sakura being involved with someone else—someone faceless and unfamiliar—or the sense of helplessness from the realization that there were parts of her life he wasn’t privy to.

Itachi, however, was unbothered by the revelation. He laughed softly, the sound low and affectionate. “She’s allowed to have friends, Sasuke,” he reassured. 

Itachi understood Sasuke’s protective instincts all too well. More than that, he understood his brother's need to have some sense of control, a fragile anchor in a life their family’s rigid expectations had never truly allowed him to steer. But he also knew that jumping to conclusions, as his younger brother often did, could complicate matters unnecessarily.

Meanwhile, Sasuke struggled to understand his brother’s lighthearted tone. Was it selfish of him to feel bothered by the fact that Sakura had a close connection outside of him? Possibly. But this wasn’t like her casual friendship with Sai. This felt different. More personal. More significant.

“She always ends the phone call with a ‘love you,’ Itachi,” Sasuke stated, his voice tinged with concern and frustration. “I think that’s pretty self-explanatory.” 

Itachi raised an eyebrow, his calm demeanor unwavering. “Could be a family member.”

Sasuke fell silent once more, contemplating Itachi’s words. She did briefly mention she had a brother, though he just realized he hadn’t bothered to ask her about that.

“Is there a reason you don’t like this ‘family member’ of hers, Sasuke?” Itachi asked, his tone light but pointed, as if peeling back a layer of his brother’s guarded thoughts.

Sasuke’s glare intensified, a flicker of frustration crossing his face at how quickly Itachi had assumed the identity of the mysterious person on Sakura’s phone. The conversations he’d overheard had been intimate yet casual and maddeningly ambiguous. It could have been the brother Sakura mentioned, or perhaps a random boy he had never met. At the end of the day, it was all speculation. There wasn’t a shred of solid evidence to anchor his assumptions, and that only made the unease burrow deeper.

“I’m just looking out for her,” Sasuke said tersely, his tone sharp and dismissive as though shutting down the conversation would quiet the doubts in his mind.

Itachi hummed softly. “You’ve never done that for anyone else before,” he observed.

Sasuke shot Itachi another glare as he picked up on the unspoken implication.

“She moved here by herself,” Sasuke retorted, his voice firm, as if trying to justify the depth of his concern. “From Hino village, no less. If I don’t help her, she’s not going to make it in the city.”

Itachi recognized Sasuke’s concern wrapped in layers of frustration and confusion, all directed toward his roommate’s well-being. At the same time, he couldn’t help but think that his little brother was severely underestimating Sakura. But he didn’t press the matter, not yet, especially with a new piece of information that had potential to complicate things further. 

“Hino village?” Itachi repeated, his brow furrowing slightly in thought.

“Yeah,” Sasuke confirmed with a nod.

Itachi paused, turning the new detail over in his mind carefully before responding, as if talking out loud to himself. “How likely is it that this isn’t a coincidence?” 

Sasuke shook of his head. “She didn’t even react when I told her my name the first time we met.”

Itachi hummed thoughtfully as his mind worked through the fragments of information he had gathered. It was no wonder Sakura’s name sounded familiar. If he was not mistaken, it was that kid who often spoke highly of her.

“What are you thinking about, Itachi?” Sasuke asked, his voice tinged with suspicion. He didn’t like the way his brother’s gaze seemed to be scrutinizing some invisible puzzle.

“It’s nothing,” Itachi replied smoothly, his tone a picture of calm indifference. But Sasuke’s sharp instincts picked up the faintest hint of evasion.

Sasuke studied Itachi intently, searching for any sign of deception. He was adept at recognizing lies, a skill honed over years of navigating complex relationships and hidden agendas. But it was always harder to do that with his brother, who could lie so convincingly, as though truth and deception were mere shades of the same thing to him.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

When Sasuke arrived home that night, the familiar sound of dishes being washed drifted from the kitchen. Sakura was there, her movements methodical and precise as she cleaned up after her own dinner, having honored his earlier request not to cook for him. 

“Welcome back, Uchiha-san.”

“I’m back,” Sasuke replied automatically.

“How was dinner with your brother?” Sakura asked casually, but there was a slight tremor in her voice as she mentioned Itachi. It was clear she had just realized the slip-up she had made—the faint flush on her cheeks betraying her attempt to cover it up.

“It was fine,” Sasuke replied tersely, his gaze fixed on Sakura, his eyes narrowing with quiet scrutiny. He was mildly surprised she had brought up his brother herself, which only served to heighten his suspicion.

"Did you guys get to accustom yourselves over text?" Sasuke asked, attempting to sound casual despite the bitterness that laced his voice. 

Inwardly, he grimaced at the sharpness of his own tone. But can anyone blame him? Not long ago, Sakura had seemingly confessed her feelings for him (albeit in a delirious, feverish haze), but now she seemed to be exchanging messages with Itachi, and worse still, having her mysterious, intimate conversations with a boy Sasuke hadn’t even met.

But this wasn’t about Sakura, Sasuke told himself firmly. It was about protecting his brilliant brother from being taken advantage of. At least, that was what he told himself to justify the discomfort stirring in his chest. After all, Sakura was supposed to just be a friend, nothing more. And yet, the unease continued to gnaw at him, threatening to unravel his carefully constructed defense.

“Uh, yeah,” Sakura replied, her voice steady, but Sasuke could hear the slight tension in her words—the smallest slip before the lie came out smoothly. “I sent him the address for that really cute cafe in the neighborhood.”

"I thought you guys only said hi?" Sasuke questioned, unwilling to let the matter slide so easily.

Sakura hesitated for a fraction of a second, then clicked her tongue in mild annoyance at his nitpicking. "I can't just say 'hello' and leave, Uchiha-san. There have to be some pleasantries in there," she retorted, trying to deflect his probing questions.

Sasuke regarded her silently for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing slightly in thought. Then, with a quiet sigh, he decided to cut to the chase. If he didn’t steer it to the point quickly, this could drag on, and he wasn’t in the mood for more ambiguity. "Just so you know, Itachi is already taken," he stated bluntly.

Sakura blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift in topic. “O-okay?” she replied hesitantly, her tone cautious as she tried to gauge where Sasuke was heading with this. She waited for him to elaborate, but when it became clear that he felt his point had been sufficiently made, Sasuke offered no further explanation. Instead, he left it at that, turning his attention elsewhere as if the conversation had already served its purpose.

Sakura watched him go, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion. The abruptness of the exchange left her with more questions than answers, but she decided against pressing the matter. It was safer not to discuss Itachi or his involvement. Until everything was sorted out, she resolved to tread carefully, choosing silence over stirring up another round of Sasuke’s cryptic moods.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke’s birthday was this Friday. 

Normally, Sakura would have been more prepared for her friend’s birthday, especially a surprise one. But she’d only discovered that July was Sasuke’s birth month by chance. Now she found herself scrambling with barely enough time to plan something special, and she felt a mix of excitement and anxiety at the prospect of making his day memorable.

The best idea she could come up with was baking a small cake for him—something homemade and personal. But that presented its own challenges. Despite the fact that they both had some alone time in the apartment each day, it was never long enough to bake a cake from start to finish without interruption. The constant risk of Sasuke coming home early or having a class canceled loomed over her, like an unspoken timer ticking down.

Even if she managed to bake the cake undetected, hiding it in their tiny fridge would be impossible. There simply wasn’t enough space to store it without Sasuke noticing, and she didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

Luckily, Itachi’s apartment was just a short train ride away from theirs. And compared to their own modest living space, Itachi’s building was far nicer, with well-maintained stairs and polished numbers on doors. Everything seemed more refined, from the sleek modern design of the lobby to the soft lighting in the hallways.

When Itachi opened the door to let her in, Sakura was even more impressed. The interior of his apartment was immaculate. Off-white walls gave the space a bright and airy feel. Inviting light spilled across the polished wooden floors that added warmth and sophistication to the otherwise minimalist décor. Everything seemed to have its place, from the neatly arranged furniture to the subtle accents that created an effortlessly elegant atmosphere. It was a far cry from the cramped, dimly lit hallway that doubled as their kitchen, with its mismatched counters and disorganized clutter. 

As she took in her surroundings, Sakura realized this was just another feature the Uchiha brothers shared—a preference for simplicity and order. On the other hand, hers and Sasuke’s shared apartment was a blend of her things, with scattered mementos and decorations that spoke more of her personality than Sasuke’s. Itachi’s apartment felt like a reflection of him—precise, calm, and undeniably refined.

Itachi’s kitchen, in particular, was a marvel—equipped with state-of-the-art appliances that looked as though they had never been used. The countertops gleamed under the soft lighting, their sleek surfaces free of any clutter.

With how convenient and spacious the apartment was, Sakura found herself hesitant to ask about the rent. It must be astronomical, she thought, her eyes lingering on the high-end fixtures and elegant finishes. She could only imagine the price tag that came with a place like this. Ino really wasn’t lying when she said she could sniff out men with money.

What Sakura didn’t understand, though, was why Sasuke had never mentioned how affluent his family was. It felt like a betrayal, almost, to discover this side of his life that he had kept hidden from her. But as she thought about it more, she realized her roommate did act like someone who had never had to do most of his chores or worry about his finances before. The signs were there, but she had brushed them off, thinking he was just another typical college student.

But could she really judge him based on Itachi’s lifestyle? Especially since she didn’t know the full story?

“So, what kind of cake did you decide on?” Itachi’s voice broke through her thoughts; his curiosity piqued as he watched Sakura unpack the ingredients and baking utensils she had brought with her in a large bag.

Sakura placed a green container in front of Itachi. “A matcha-flavored cake,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think Sasuke will really like it if I let the bitterness of the tea come through a little bit.” 

She smiled at the thought, but when Itachi’s expression shifted into one of quiet contemplation, a flicker of worry crept through Sakura. “Is it a bad idea?” she asked, suddenly uncertain.

“No, no,” Itachi reassured her, his tone calm as he reached for a small box from a kitchen cabinet. The lid of the box bore a carved elegant ‘tea’ character, hinting at its contents.

“It’s Sasuke’s favorite brand of green tea,” Itachi explained.

Sakura moved closer as Itachi opened the box. The rich, earthy scent of green tea immediately wafted into the air, and she leaned in, admiring the dark, fragrant powder inside. The quality was unmistakable—it was clearly a high-grade green tea, the kind one wouldn’t typically find at the average grocery store. “He usually makes his tea from loose leaves, but I believe you use the powdered version for baking.”

A wave of self-doubt washed over her as Sakura glanced over at the ingredients she had brought with her, all from the cheapest brand available at the supermarket. Her gaze lingered on the green tea powder she had originally planned to use; its modest packaging seemed so out of place now, especially next to the high-quality tea Itachi had just provided.

“What’s wrong?” 

Sakura blinked, momentarily startled to find that Itachi had closed the distance between them ever so slightly. “Sorry, Uchiha-san,” she replied, her voice betraying the uncertainty swirling in her chest. “I’m just reconsidering if I should bake him a cake after all.”

Would Sasuke even want her cheap, homemade cake? Especially now that she knew Sasuke came from a well-off family?

Itachi raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, clearly not expecting such uncertainty after Sakura’s initial excitement at the idea of baking the cake. He studied her for a moment, the quiet weight of his gaze making her feel like he could see right through her.

“If I may, Haruno-san, why do you want to bake him a cake?” Itachi asked casually, though his gaze was penetrating, as if searching for something deeper.

Sakura hesitated briefly before meeting Itachi’s gaze. 

“There’s this brand of pudding at the convenience store that he likes,” she began, her answer feeling almost off-topic but completely sincere. “It’s really plain, so it’s always fully stocked. But he seemed to prefer the one I made at home with less sugar.” She paused, a little self-conscious about how much she was revealing. “I don’t think I can find a cake with that little sugar in stores, so I thought I’d make one for him myself, but..." Her voice trailed off, a hint of doubt creeping in.

It was also more expensive than what she could afford to buy a decent cake from the store, but Sakura didn’t voice this. She had already made enough of a fool of herself bringing her cheap ingredients here, and the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to that.

“Are you worried that Sasuke won’t appreciate your cake?” Itachi gently probed, observing the subtle shift in Sakura’s expression as he accurately assessed her feelings.

Tentatively, Sakura nodded, her thoughts swirling in a mix of frustration and confusion. She felt misled about Sasuke’s financial situation. If he had the means, why hadn’t he moved out? Itachi’s apartment was clearly spacious enough for both brothers. So why was Sasuke still living in that cramped apartment with her? 

“I’m sorry, I wasted your time, Uchiha-san,” Sakura murmured, her voice small, as if apologizing for something much larger than baking a cake.

Itachi shook his head, his expression softening. “You didn’t waste my time,” he said calmly, his voice carrying a reassuring smile. “I should be the one to apologize.”

Sakura blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion as she searched Itachi’s face for clarity.

“I’m partially responsible for Sasuke’s decision to move out and live on his own savings,” Itachi explained, his tone regretful yet sincere. “However, the choice to continue living with you is entirely his own.”

Sakura’s heart skipped a beat as realization washed over her.

“What are you trying to say, Uchiha-san?” Sakura asked, as if searching for confirmation of what she hoped was true. Her heart raced as she awaited his response.

Itachi’s mouth spread into a smile, and Sakura found herself momentarily disarmed by its warmth. He knew Sasuke could be very asocial when it came to people. Despite this, Sasuke wasn’t afraid to try new things, but he was also very particular about his preferences and rarely let others sway his decisions. The fact that he chose to stay in that tiny apartment with Sakura and how concerned he was about them exchanging numbers said a lot about what he thought of her.

“That I know for a fact my brother will appreciate your cake no matter what kind of ingredient you use,” Itachi concluded with a reassuring tone, his gaze soft but confident.

Sakura looked up, hope flickering in her eyes as a small smile tugged at her lips. “You think so?”

Itachi nodded, his expression unwavering in its certainty. “So how can I help bake this cake?”

Sakura’s smile widened, touched by Itachi’s words and the support he offered. Getting rid of her hesitation, she pulled out the recipe and began explaining each step to him.

As Itachi measured the dry ingredients meticulously, Sakura expertly beat the eggs. Amidst the clinking of utensils and the soft hum of the oven preheating, Sakura couldn’t help but feel grateful for Itachi’s presence and assistance.

It had been a surprise to discover that Sasuke had a brother, considering Sasuke rarely disclosed anything about his family. Sakura had never understood Sasuke’s reticence, especially now that she saw firsthand how kind and helpful Itachi was. She had often worried that Sasuke might be lonely, with his cool, aloof demeanor driving people away, but Itachi’s warmth and ease in conversation put those fears to rest.

“Am I doing it wrong, Haruno-san?” Itachi’s voice brought her back to reality and Sakura’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment at having been lost in thought.

“No, it’s nothing!” She stammered, her hands faltering in the motion of folding the batter as Itachi chuckled softly.

Sakura gave herself a moment to compose herself, then, as if trying to change the subject and ease her discomfort, she ventured, “I was just confused about why Sasuke never mentioned he has a brother.” 

Finding out about Sakura had been a complete surprise for him, too. What truly baffled him was the fact that Sasuke had endured a roommate for so long, and even more so that this roommate was a girl like Sakura.

“I assume he doesn’t talk about his personal life a lot?” Itachi ventured.

Sakura knew she might appear somewhat meddling. Who was she to ask about Sasuke’s family and demand that his roommate share such personal details? Yet, the gnawing frustration of knowing so little about the person who occupied so much of her thoughts left her feeling strangely restless. Itachi’s surprise visit not long ago only magnified this feeling, as though Sasuke considered her no more than a stranger despite her efforts.

She sighed, a soft, almost inaudible exhale. “I know he values his privacy,” she said, her voice tinged with both understanding and an edge of frustration. “But I wish he would at least tell me about you.”

Itachi studied her for a moment, his sharp eyes noticing the flicker of emotion she couldn’t entirely hide. He had noticed it the first time they met, but he found himself constantly surprised by how little effort it took to decipher her mood. It wasn’t just her frustration that was apparent, but the subtle vulnerability beneath it. Secrecy was so important in his line of work that his interaction with Sakura felt refreshingly open and relaxed. 

There were no hidden agendas, no webs of deceit to untangle. Her raw emotions, her every thought, were laid bare before him, so transparent that it caught Itachi off guard. He found himself drawn to the simplicity of it—the way she allowed her feelings to be known without pretense. It was a vulnerability he wasn’t used to seeing, and strangely, he found it endearing. It was unusual for him to feel this way about someone. He was guarded with everyone, even with his brother sometimes, but with Sakura, he felt an inexplicable desire to share more.

“Sasuke didn’t have a lot of friends growing up,” Itachi began, his tone soft, as though speaking more to himself than to her. Curiosity piqued, Sakura leaned in ever so slightly, her full attention now on him, waiting for the next words to fall.

“We spent our mornings at school,” he continued. “And our evenings were filled with tutoring sessions at home. I was essentially the person Sasuke spent the most time with throughout his entire childhood. Maybe that’s why he finds it difficult to share the details of his life with anyone outside our family.”

Sakura let out a thoughtful hum, nodding pensively as she processed his words. She wasn’t sure why Itachi had chosen to share this with her, but she appreciated a glimpse into Sasuke’s past and upbringing. It felt like she was getting closer to the edges of the person Sasuke had been—and perhaps still was—in ways she hadn’t fully realized.

Sakura wasn’t entirely sure why Sasuke refused to speak of his brother specifically, but the pieces of his behavior she had observed seemed to offer a few clues. He was fiercely protective of things he considered his—his space, his possessions, and perhaps, in a more subtle way, the people he held dear. Sasuke had been the one to insist on the rule about not touching each other’s things in the apartment, a boundary that spoke volumes about his desire for control and privacy. It made Sakura wonder if a similar, unspoken rule applied to the people in his life. Perhaps Sasuke’s reluctance to discuss Itachi was rooted in this need to keep his relationships private and untouched.

Sakura toyed with the idea for a moment before deciding to inject a bit of lightness into the conversation. “One would think he would get used to sharing you with someone else by now,” she remarked playfully.

Itachi raised an eyebrow, a rare expression of confusion flickering across his face. “Pardon?”

Sakura’s cheeks flushed slightly, realizing her remark might have been misinterpreted. “Sorry,” she said quickly, offering him an apologetic smile. “I meant with your girlfriend. She must have to put up with Sasuke a lot, huh?”

Itachi’s confusion deepened, his thoughts briefly scattered. Girlfriend? It was a concept so foreign to him, especially given his demanding life. Between his responsibilities and the weight of his own secrecy, there was no room for anything as frivolous as a relationship. This meant that Sasuke had apparently lied about Itachi having a girlfriend, and the realization left him delightfully taken aback.

How sly of him, he thought with a trace of amusement. Itachi imagined Sasuke’s warning would have worked if his brother had truly grasped the nuances of the situation instead of resorting to a knee-jerk reaction.  

Sakura, sensing the shift in Itachi’s demeanor, quickly covered her mouth, her eyes widening with sudden realization. “Oh no, is it a secret?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern, as if she had crossed an invisible line.

Not wanting to undermine his own brother in front of Sakura, Itachi decided to play along, at least for the moment. Yet he couldn’t quite suppress a laugh as he shook his head. “No, not really. I’m just... caught off guard.”

Sakura immediately apologized, her hand dropping from her mouth as she gave him a sheepish look. “I’m really sorry,” she said quickly, her voice tinged with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to meddle.”

“It’s quite alright,” Itachi reassured her with a smile, though there was a knowing glint in his eyes. “I think you’re absolutely right that Sasuke hasn’t improved one bit when it comes to sharing.”

“Right! Not even one bit!” Sakura exclaimed with a hint of exasperation, recounting the recent culinary dispute. “The other day, I had to fight him over the last bite of fish. I mean, sure, he’s the one who cooked it, but it was his turn to cook anyway!”

Itachi couldn’t hide his surprise, his brow raising slightly. “Sasuke cooks?” he asked, as if trying to reconcile the image of his little brother in a kitchen, chopping ingredients and stirring pots. This was yet another unexpected facet of his brother’s life he chose not to share.

“Yes,” Sakura continued, her voice softening with a fondness that was hard to miss. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “He’s actually a natural and has a lot of potential. But he has this weird tendency to either make dishes filled with tomatoes or just bonito flakes on rice.”

Itachi couldn’t help but laugh, the sound rich and unexpected. “Do tell me more,” Itachi said, his voice taking on a playful edge as he leaned in, clearly intrigued by this new side of his brother.

Very much like how Sakura hadn’t been informed about him, Itachi hadn’t been privy to much of Sasuke’s new life either. Itachi was always kept at arm’s length, even when his brother was in need of assistance. Take the incident with the landlord, for instance—Sasuke had struggled in silence, never once reaching out to him for help. Itachi understood Sasuke’s stubborn determination to assert his independence, but it never ceased to frustrate him. Itachi wished his younger brother could see that accepting help wasn’t a sign of weakness.

Having a roommate as talkative and observant as Sakura to keep him informed about his brother’s well-being had proven to be an unexpected convenience. Each conversation with her peeled back another layer of Sasuke’s life, offering a small glimpse into the person he had become. 

The more Itachi spoke with Sakura, the more it became clear why Sasuke had chosen to continue living with her. There was a quiet warmth in the way she spoke of him, an unspoken tenderness that hinted at a deep bond between them. It was evident that Sakura genuinely cared for his brother. The tragedy, however, was that Itachi suspected his dense brother might not even be aware of her feelings, let alone his own.

Chapter Text

Sasuke’s birthday dawned on a dreary Friday morning, with rain drumming steadily against the windowpane. The air inside was cool and damp, the scent of wet earth lingering in the room. 

As Sasuke stirred awake, he felt a gentle tug on his forehead. Blinking groggily, he reached up and peeled away the small, sticky note that clung to him with surprising persistence. He held it up to the morning light, and the note’s soft pink Sakura flower pattern came into focus. The faint scent of his roommate’s favorite lavender pen ink still lingered on the note, a subtle whisper of her presence in his otherwise quiet morning. Her handwriting spelled out a cheerful message: “Have a nice day today! I’ll see you tonight!” 

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he folded the note carefully, the crisp paper crinkling softly under his fingers. He slid it into the pocket of his pants with the same care one might use for a fragile keepsake.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sakura had thought she had everything meticulously planned. She had dashed back home after class, her arms weighed down with bags brimming with decorations and supplies. Her heart raced—not just from the hurried trip but from the excitement of surprising him. For the next hours, she threw herself into cooking and transforming their living space. Cheerful banners swayed gently as she adjusted them just so, while the plates and bowls were arranged with care. 

However, luck was not on her side, as it never seemed to be. 

Just as she finished tying the last ribbon, the faint but unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed outside the door. Her pulse quickened, and her stomach twisted with panic. Sasuke had returned far earlier than she anticipated. Before she could scramble to hide the evidence of her surprise, the door creaked open, revealing him standing in the entranceway.

“Uchiha-san, you’re home early!” Sakura’s voice rang out, carrying her usual chipper tone, though the slight quiver betrayed her anxiety. She hesitated, her fingers twitching toward the spool of ribbon still resting on the table, as if debating whether to make a last-ditch effort to hide her handiwork. But the mess of colorful banners and balloons left no point in pretense. So instead, Sakura quickly stepped in front of Sasuke as he began moving toward the kitchen.

“You can’t come in here just yet,” she said firmly, gesturing to the main room. 

Despite his hurried walk home from school—his breath still coming in faint, uneven pants—Sasuke tried to keep his expression as neutral as ever. His sharp eyes flickered to the colorful chaos behind her before settling on Sakura in her dress—a rare sight that sent an unexpected quickening to his pulse. Her arms were spread out as if to physically block his path, though her small frame provided no real barrier.

The memory of the curious note she had left him that morning rose to the forefront of his mind, stirring his anticipation. Whatever this was, he needed to get ready quickly.

“I need to shower,” Sasuke said flatly, his tone betraying none of the excitement simmering beneath the surface.

He kicked off his wet shoes by the door and dropped his schoolbag with a thud, a small puddle forming beneath it. Rainwater dripped from his disheveled hair, leaving uneven spots on the hardwood floor. Fumbling with the buttons of his damp shirt, he pulled it over his head in haste, exposing his rain-slicked skin to the dim glow of the apartment. 

Sakura’s breath hitched in surprise. Her hands instinctively came up to cover her eyes with her fingers, though they did a poor job of blocking her view.

“And I’m the perv,” Sasuke scoffed, his voice tinged with dry amusement as he caught her in the act.

Flustered, she patted her cheeks with her hands as if trying to jolt herself out of her embarrassment, but the flush refused to fade. “I wasn’t—! I—You—!” she stammered, the words tumbling out in a chaotic rush. Unable to finish, she clamped her mouth shut and spun back toward the main room. Sasuke watched her leave before quietly closing the bathroom door behind him. 

Sakura dove back into her work, fussing over banners that didn’t need adjusting and repositioning plates that were already perfectly placed. The task helped distract her from the awkward moment, though the heat of her embarrassment lingered. Every so often, her gaze flickered toward the hallway, only to snap back to her decorations when she remembered herself.

After a few moments of silence, Sakura thought she might’ve finally regained her composure. But then she heard her roommate’s voice ring out from behind her.

“Hey!”

Startled, Sakura spun around so quickly that the sudden motion nearly made her lose her balance. Her eyes widened in shock as Sasuke’s dripping upper torso appeared behind the bathroom door. His wet hair clung to his face, droplets of water trailing down his skin and glistening in the soft light.

A surprised shriek escaped her lips, and she instinctively turned back around, pressing her hands to her face in an attempt to block out the image.

“Wh-what is it?” she stammered, her voice cracking with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. Her heart pounded in her chest as she faced the wall, doing everything she could to avoid looking back at him.

From the bathroom, Sasuke couldn’t help but notice Sakura’s nervous fidgeting and the unmistakable flush creeping up to her ears. A smirk tugged at his lips as he stepped out of the bathroom, his bare feet leaving faint wet prints on the floor with each deliberate step.

Meanwhile, all Sakura could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat, a chaotic drumbeat that drowned out everything else. Her skin prickled with heat, and she could feel every muscle in her body tense with anticipation. The sound of footsteps grew closer, and she instinctively took a step away from the closet, assuming Sasuke was coming to retrieve his change of clothes. Her voice was trembling as she spoke.

“T-there, please just get your clothes and go back to the bathroom.”

But before she could retreat further, she felt a presence close behind her. The shadow eclipsing the light overhead. Her breath hitched when an arm planted itself firmly against the wall, a hair breadth from her ear, trapping her between the cool surface and his body. The sight of his forearm, taut with defined muscles, sent a jolt of warmth rushing to Sakura’s cheeks. Her mind went blank for a moment, the image of his body seared into her senses, each detail more vivid than the last.

Her head felt as if it were overheating, her heart racing from the proximity. The subtle scent of soap and rain clung to him, an intoxicating combination that seemed to make everything around her spin. 

She knew he was messing with her, and she knew what a male body looked like from her classes, but Kami was really playing with her for his body to have this much of an effect on her. The cool, damp droplets of water falling from his hair onto her shoulder only added to the sensation. The feeling of them tracing the curve of her collarbone intensified the already overwhelming image forming in her mind.

Sakura swallowed dryly. “Uchiha-san?” She managed to murmur, her voice barely audible as it wavered between a plea for space and the struggle to maintain any semblance of composure. Her cheeks burned with an intensity she had never experienced before, and despite her efforts to keep her gaze averted, she could feel the heat of his body right behind her, making it almost impossible to think clearly.

Sasuke’s face was mere inches from her reddened ear, his breath warm and intoxicating as it fanned her skin, sending a shiver rippling down her spine. He could sense her discomfort—and her unwillingness to confront it.

“What if I don’t want any clothes?” He asked, his voice low and rich with mischief. The amusement in his tone was unmistakable, though there was an undercurrent of something else, something just as dangerous and unpredictable as the way he was leaning in slowly.

Sakura felt goosebumps prickling across her arms, her body tensing involuntarily at his words. She swallowed nervously again, trying to muster a retort, but her mind felt as jumbled as her emotions. When she felt a sudden warmth trickle down her nose, she instinctively reached up to wipe it away with the back of her hand, only to realize what he had done to her—her nose was bleeding, a physical manifestation of her overheated and flustered state.

Sakura’s face burned even deeper with humiliation, her heart pounding in her ears as the blood continued to drip. Something in her snapped. “You perverted, idiot asshole!” she screamed, the words tumbling out before she could even think to stop them.

Her hand moved quickly to block the blood from running further down her face, but her other hand shot out reflexively, swinging at Sasuke’s side in a desperate attempt to create space between them. The punch landed lightly, but it was enough to make him stagger back. 

Unfortunately for Sakura, that slight movement only gave her an even clearer view of Sasuke—fresh from the shower and casually clad in nothing but a towel at his waist. The sight of him, so effortlessly composed despite the chaos she felt, sent another wave of heat rushing to her already burning face.

Although Sasuke winced and clutched his side from Sakura’s strike, his lips curled into a satisfied smirk, pleased by the intensity of her explosive reaction—it was far more satisfying than his previous disastrous attempt. Meanwhile, Sakura was just thankful that Sasuke still had the decency to keep his nether regions covered by the towel, which, while it didn’t alleviate all of it, at least spared her from a further, more catastrophic level of embarrassment.

But before any of them could even process the situation, the doorbell rang, startling both of them out of their respective discomforts. They exchanged a quick glance before their attention turned to the front door. Sasuke looked puzzled, silently wondering who could be visiting at this hour. Sakura, however, sprang into action. She grabbed a handful of tissues from the nearby table to staunch the flow from her nose and hurried to open the door. Before leaving, she hissed over her shoulder at Sasuke to get dressed quickly.

“Not so innocent, huh?” Sasuke’s smug voice floated from behind her as he watched her rush to the door. 

Sakura’s heart was still racing from their earlier encounter, but she didn’t have the luxury to dwell on it any longer. Ignoring his teasing remark, she opened the door to predictably find Itachi standing there, right on time. He held a folded umbrella in one hand and a cake box in the other.

“Sakura-san, are you... okay?” Itachi’s concerned voice interrupted as he noticed the tissue pressed against her nose. 

Itachi leaned forward, his hand extending toward her face to better assess the bleeding, but Sakura instinctively stepped back, subtly evading his touch. Her fingers found the tissue and gently removed it, a sense of relief washing over her as she realized the bleeding had stopped.

“Don’t worry about it, Itachi-san; it’s just the heat getting to me.” Sakura forced a nervous laugh, her attempt to brush off the situation coming out more awkwardly than she intended. Though Itachi’s expression remained unreadable, Sakura could tell he wasn’t convinced by her excuse. In fact, there seemed to be a trace of disappointment that she would lie to him. 

Despite that, Sakura stepped aside and usher him inside, hoping the tension would dissipate with his calm presence. But the moment the two brothers finally caught sight of each other, the tension only seemed to intensify. Itachi’s expression flickered, his usual calm briefly cracking as his features hardened, while his posture straightened imperceptibly as if making up his mind.

“Why are you here?” Sasuke asked bluntly, his irritation evident in his tone and expression as he spotted his brother standing in the hallway. 

“Why are you still not fully dressed?” Sakura hissed in response, her tone sharp as she gestured pointedly at Sasuke, who was only in his pants. Her roommate rolled his eyes and begrudgingly pulled on his shirt as if it were an unreasonable request.

The sound of Itachi clearing his throat abruptly brought their attention back to him. He stood there, still holding the cake box, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked, his tone light but observant.

Sakura felt her cheeks burning again, flustered by Itachi’s question. “No, of course not!” she exclaimed quickly, her voice a little too high-pitched as she tried to dismiss the discomfort lingering in the air. She waved her hand dismissively; her eyes darted to Sasuke for support, but her roommate was busy muttering under his breath. “It’s just a bit of a disagreement,” she added, her voice faltering slightly as she spoke.

Sakura glanced over at Sasuke again, but he responded with a nonchalant shrug, adding to the awkwardness that he didn’t seem particularly bothered by. In fact, he appeared to be subtly hinting for Itachi to take this as a sign to drop off the cake and leave.

Although catching onto Sasuke’s intention, Itachi didn’t seem to take offense. Instead, he simply smiled, as though he had anticipated the awkwardness and resistance before coming. With a slight shift in his posture, he lifted the box containing the cake and held it out to Sasuke.

“Happy Birthday, little brother!”

Sensing a chance to move past the uncomfortable atmosphere, Sakura seized the opportunity and followed Itachi’s lead. 

“Surprise!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms out in a half-hearted gesture. Her voice carried a note of enthusiasm, but it was tinged with the fatigue and awkwardness that still lingered from the earlier chaos. This was turning out to be less of a surprise party than she had hoped for.

Taking a deep breath to gather herself, Sakura then gestured enthusiastically toward the table. “Sit! Sit!” she urged, eager to steer the moment toward something more celebratory.

Not wanting to make a scene, Sasuke settled into his usual spot at the table with reluctant acceptance. After handing the cake box to Sakura, Itachi followed suit, taking a seat opposite Sasuke, his calm presence a stark contrast to his brother’s guarded demeanor. While waiting, Itachi looked around the room, taking in the decorations with genuine appreciation. 

Colorful streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, adding bursts of blue and gold against the plain white walls. Balloons of assorted colors bobbed gently in the corners, their shiny surfaces catching the soft glow of fairy lights strung along the walls. In one corner, a handmade birthday banner stretched across the wall, decorated with glitter and stars, proudly displaying the words “Happy Birthday” in bold, playful letters.

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Sakura-san,” he remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “The room looks amazing.”

Sakura’s cheeks flushed subtly at the compliment, her hands fidgeting slightly as she met his gaze. “Thank you, Itachi-san,” she replied from the kitchen.

On the side, Sasuke couldn’t help but scoff discreetly to himself. They were on a last name basis the last time he checked. When did that change? 

Glancing over at Sakura, Sasuke couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this change in familiarity between her and his older brother.

When his gaze shifted back to Itachi, he found that his brother looked as inscrutable as ever. But despite his outward calm, there was something almost conspiratorial in his expression, as if he were enjoying a private joke Sasuke wasn’t in on.

“Did you two plan this together?” Sasuke asked, his voice flat, though a sharp edge of curiosity cut through his usual stoicism.

Itachi tilted his head slightly, meeting his brother’s gaze with a small, knowing smile. “I only helped a little,” he said, his tone as effortless as always, with just a trace of amusement. “Sakura-san is the mastermind behind everything.”

Sasuke’s eyebrow quirked, his dark eyes narrowing as his suspicion began to simmer. “Are you two dating?” he asked bluntly. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable undertone of something more—annoyance, perhaps, or a reluctant vulnerability he hadn’t intended to reveal.

Itachi blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “We—”

His words were cut off when Sakura returned to the table. Balanced in her hands was a giant plate piled high with golden, crispy chicken karaage, the steam rising in delicate tendrils and carrying a mouthwatering aroma. The savory scent of soy sauce and garlic mingled with the warm, rich scent of fried batter.

“And because this is a special occasion,” Sakura said brightly, her smile wide and proud as she raised a large carton of beer that looked too heavy for her. “Ta-da!”

Even Itachi’s composure wavered for a moment when he noticed Sakura with the bulky carton. He offered politely, moving to take it from her.

Though she was managing just fine on her own, Sakura smiled gratefully at Itachi and relinquished the carton to him. “I’ll go grab the cups,” she added quickly, turning and making her way back to the kitchen with a lightness in her step now that her hands were free.

As the sound of clinking glassware and cupboard doors opening carried from the kitchen, Sasuke shifted his attention to his brother. He watched silently as Itachi smoothly opened the carton and extracted three cans of beer. The faint hiss of a tab being pulled echoed in the quiet room, followed by the soft clink of aluminum as Itachi set the drinks on the table, one for each of them.

“You don’t drink,” Sasuke remarked, his voice pointed as he raised a skeptical eyebrow at his older brother.

“Oh, I didn’t know that!” Sakura exclaimed, stepping back into the room just in time to catch the tail end of their exchange. Her arms were full of cups she’d just retrieved from the kitchen, and she quickly set them down on the table. Her eyes darting toward Itachi with concern. “I can get you something else,” she offered. “What would you like?”

Just as Sakura started to rise, Itachi’s hand moved swiftly to grab her wrist, halting her in place. Sasuke’s own arm twitched, as though prepared to intervene. But then he stopped himself, his jaw tightening as he forced his hand to stay at his side.

“That won’t be necessary,” Itachi said softly, releasing Sakura’s wrist as smoothly as he’d grabbed it. The brief contact left her skin tingling, her heart still racing from the suddenness of it all. 

“What’s a little beer on a special occasion?” He replied, offering her a reassuring smile. “Right, little brother?” He added, turning to Sasuke with a playful lilt in his tone. His silent smile spoke a thousand words.  

Sasuke, still tense, continued to study Itachi with a guarded expression. After a moment of silent scrutiny, he grabbed his own can of beer, his fingers curling around it a bit more forcefully than necessary, but he said nothing.

“In that case, please let me,” Sakura offered graciously, reaching for the can before Itachi could protest. With practiced ease, she expertly poured the beer into the cup, then repeated the process for her own cup.

“Why is he getting special treatment?” Sasuke complained, his voice laced with a hint of petulance as he leaned forward, his chin resting in his palm.

“Because he’s a guest, Uchiha-san,” Sakura replied patiently.

“And it’s my birthday,” Sasuke countered.

Sakura, despite herself, couldn’t help but soften at Sasuke’s pout. It was rare for him to ask for anything so directly, and it tugged at her in a way that made her want to comply without hesitation. Neither of them noticed the slight smile that graced Itachi’s face as he observed their interaction.

“Hai, hai, here you go,” she said, handing him a cup filled to the brim with the frothy beer.

When all three cups were filled, Sakura rose to her knees, her fingers tingling with anticipation as she held her cup high, the smooth glass cooling against her skin. “Kanpai!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing against the cozy walls of the small apartment. The sound of their cups clinking together rang out—a sharp, satisfying chime that filled the room with an almost tangible sense of celebration.

Sakura took a long swig from her cup, the cold liquid sending a refreshing chill that spread warmth through her chest. She sighed contentedly, savoring the crisp, slightly bitter taste. Her gaze shifted to Itachi, who mirrored her motion, his face softening in quiet enjoyment as the drink settled into his system. When Sakura turned to Sasuke, however, she found that he had already chugged more than half of his beer, his determined expression betraying no hesitation.

A small surprise laugh left her at the sight, but she didn’t press. Instead, she picked up a pair of tongs and began placing a few pieces of crispy chicken karaage on each plate. “Let’s not forget the main dish here.”

As Sakura carefully distributed the food, Sasuke shot a competitive glare at his brother.

“Not enjoying the beer, nii-san?” Sasuke asked.

“It’s quite refreshing.” Itachi replied smoothly, gesturing towards the plate of fried chicken. “You should try some of the karaage, too, Sasuke.” 

Despite sensing a subtle tension between the brothers, Sakura couldn’t quite pinpoint its origin. So she shrugged it off, attributing it to some inside joke or sibling banter that she wasn’t privy to. What mattered most to her was that everyone, especially Sasuke, seemed to be enjoying the small birthday gathering.

With the plates of karaage distributed and the beer flowing freely, the atmosphere in the small apartment room grew steadily warmer and more relaxed. Their conversation was only  punctuated by occasional sips of beer and bites of food. 

As the evening progressed, Sakura noticed that Sasuke was keeping pace with the beer more enthusiastically than she had expected. The next time she called out another “kanpai,” she found herself pouring Sasuke his third can of beer while everyone else was just finishing their first.

Sakura’s stomach fluttered with a hint of unease. She hadn’t planned for the party to stretch too long, and with only six cans of beer in total, she realized that half of them had already disappeared into Sasuke’s competitive drinking. When the last can was emptied and only crumbs remained on the plate, Sakura knew it was time to bring out the cake.

As Sakura rose to prepare the cake, Itachi instinctively followed her into the kitchen, offering his help. Sasuke, now feeling a little tipsy and flush from the beer, attempted to rise as well, but Sakura’s gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Don’t you dare move a muscle, birthday boy.” Her voice was warm and teasing, the sound like a soft melody that tugged at Sasuke’s resolve. He hesitated for a moment, mouth opening as if to protest, but the sight of her pleading gaze and soft smile stopped him cold.

With a petuland pout tugging at the corners of his lips, he reluctantly complied, finishing the rest of his beer in one go. 

Once in the kitchen, Sakura’s eyes flickered over to Sasuke for a moment, the smile fading from her lips as a small knot of concern formed in her stomach.

“Something wrong, Sakura-san?” The familiar warmth of Itachi’s voice drew her out of her thoughts.

“This might just be my imagination,” Sakura murmured, pulling the cake carefully out of its box. “But I feel like Sasuke is in a bad mood.” She sighed, the unease creeping up her spine as she glanced over at Itachi. “Do you think he hates the party?” 

Sakura knew Sasuke wasn’t fond of crowds, so she thought a small, intimate gathering with his brother would be more his speed—but his reaction, the quiet scowl that lingered on his face and the curt answer from their conversations, was far from what she’d hoped for. It felt discouraging, like she’d missed some subtle cue.

Itachi’s gaze drifted back to Sasuke, who was still sitting there, his posture tense, his eyes locked in an almost territorial glare in his brother’s direction. A quiet chuckle, almost imperceptible, escaped Itachi’s lips as he watched Sasuke’s stormy expression. 

“Not at all,” Itachi replied smoothly, his tone holding a hint of amusement that Sakura couldn’t quite place.

Convinced that Itachi was only saying that to comfort her, Sakura let out a soft sigh, the weight of her doubts settling heavily in her chest. But the quiet gesture didn’t escape Itachi’s notice.

“Sakura-san.”

Startled, Sakura looked up at him, her eyes meeting his calm, steady gaze.

“I told you before, didn’t I?” Itachi continued, his tone soft yet certain. His hand moved toward her, and for a moment, her breath caught as he plucked a stray fluff from her hair. The simple, almost absentminded gesture unexpectedly made her heart skip in an unfamiliar rhythm. “That he will appreciate it no matter what.”

Sakura, taken off guard by both his kindness and the casual way he closed the distance between them, felt her cheeks flush with warmth. She managed a small, shy smile, the corners of her lips trembling slightly. “You always know what to say, Itachi-san,” she murmured, the pink on her cheeks deepening.

“That’s because I’m always right,” he replied with a faint smile, the quiet confidence in his words underscored by the gentle humor in his eyes.

For a moment, the tension in her chest eased, and Sakura couldn’t help but feel lighter, as if his words had cast away her worries like the fluff he had so effortlessly removed from her hair.

Meanwhile, Sasuke shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of the table. His mood soured as his gaze flickered toward the cramped kitchen, where his brother and his roommate stood far too close together. They spoke in a hush tone under the soft, warm glow of the overhead light. In that moment, it felt like a distance was growing between him and the two people who he considered a part of his world.

Sasuke’s legs tensed beneath the table, an almost instinctive urge to rise and join them surging through him, but a moment of hesitation stopped him. The kitchen suddenly felt impossibly small, and the idea of stepping into that shared space made him feel like he was intruding. He hated that this was the thought that crossed his mind.

Taking a deep breath, Sasuke leaned back, his fingers curling into loose fists as he tried to shake off the strange unease that had settled over him like a heavy fog. Logic reminded him that Sakura and Itachi couldn’t possibly be more than acquaintances—friends at most. After all, they’d barely known each other aside from a few interactions. And yet, despite knowing this, a small, insistent voice in the back of his mind stirred up unwelcome doubts, whispering possibilities that tightened his chest and set his teeth on edge.

How could these two have grown so close in such a short amount of time? Had they been spending time together behind his back? How long had this been going on? The questions buzzed in his mind like an irritating swarm of flies, refusing to be swatted away.

Before he could spiral further, Itachi emerged from the kitchen carrying the cake. Sakura moved to turn off the overhead light, plunging the small apartment into cozy darkness punctuated only by the soft, flickering light of the candle on the cake. The warm glow illuminated their faces as Itachi and Sakura started to sing the birthday song, clapping along to the rhythm. Sasuke sat stiffly in his chair, his posture rigid, caught somewhere between embarrassment and a strange, unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest.

When the song finally ended, Sakura stood up to switch the light back on. The sudden brightness filled the room once more, momentarily dazzling them after the warm dimness. Sasuke blinked, his eyes adjusting as the intimate warmth of the candlelight gave way to the sharper edges of reality. He looked at the cake, now fully illuminated, and at the two people sitting before him, their expressions lit with an earnestness he couldn’t bring himself to resent—even if his heart still felt a little too heavy for comfort.

“Make a wish, little brother.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, as if to protest that he was far too old for such childish traditions. But despite his initial reluctance, Sasuke closed his eyes. He searched the guarded corners of his heart, looking for a wish he hadn’t dared to voice before.

After a few moments, Sasuke opened his eyes and blew out the candle. The soft cheer and applause that followed from Itachi and Sakura made him feel unexpectedly touched, as if he were five again.

Taking advantage of the moment, Sakura quickly grabbed Sasuke’s phone from the table, her fingers tapping at the screen as she lined up a shot. “Hold still,” she said, snapping pictures of Sasuke in front of his cake. Despite the faint grumble of protest he muttered, he didn’t stop her.

Satisfied with the photos, Sakura gestured toward Itachi. “You should join him,” she urged, her smile wide and encouraging.

Itachi hesitated for a brief moment, the faint crease of reluctance in his brow betraying his distaste for being in photos. Still, he complied, stepping to sit beside Sasuke with a composed air. Sakura couldn’t help but find it amusing how alike the brothers were in that moment—the same subtle tension in their postures, the shared flicker of discomfort in their expressions. Yet, where Sasuke’s reluctance leaned toward stubborn resistance, Itachi’s demeanor was far more cordial, exuding a quiet grace that softened his aversion.

“You should come take one, too, Sakura-san,” Itachi said suddenly.

Sakura blinked in surprise and glanced toward Sasuke. Her roommate looked oddly expectant, as though waiting for her to move. The weight of his gaze sent a flutter through her chest, and she felt a sudden rush of self-consciousness. “Oh no, it’s okay,” she said quickly, waving her hand dismissively.

But before she could retreat, Sasuke’s hand had caught her wrist. With a firm but gentle tug, he pulled her down to sit beside him. The sudden movement left her off balance, and when she looked up, their faces were mere inches apart. Sakura’s breath faltered as she took in the sharp lines of his expression up close, her gaze flickering between his intense eyes and the slight crease of frustration in his brow. They were close enough that she could see the faint flecks of amber in his dark eyes and feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Is there a reason you don’t want to take one with me?” Sasuke asked, his tone serious with a faint edge of annoyance, clearly unaware of the proximity that was leaving her heart pounding in a wild, uneven rhythm. 

“That’s not what I mean,” Sakura stammered, her cheeks flushing. She avoided his eyes, the memory of their earlier closeness rushing back to her. The warmth of his hand still lingered on her wrist, grounding her in a moment that felt both too long and too short all at once.

“Smile,” Itachi’s voice rang out, pulling them from the moment. Sakura barely had time to compose herself as he snapped the photo.

This was the moment that Sasuke felt like the world had righted itself. The small chaos of the evening, the nagging doubts and quiet tension—they all faded. Sitting there, his hand over hers, he couldn’t help but think that this was how things were meant to be.

The flash of the camera jolted Sakura out of the moment, the bright burst severing the invisible thread that had tethered her to Sasuke’s closeness. Flustered, she scooted back to her original seat, her cheeks warm, and her gaze fixed firmly on the table. Sasuke watched her retreat with an unreadable expression, his hand falling away as if suddenly aware of its emptiness.

He opened his mouth, clearly ready to make another remark, but Itachi’s calm voice cut through before he could speak.

“What did you wish for, little brother?” 

Sasuke shot his brother a glare, the kind that could sear through stone.

For you to leave.

“You’re not supposed to ask,” he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with irritation.

Sensing the sudden shift in his tone, Sakura glanced uncertainly at Itachi, her eyes silently asking what had sparked the tension. Itachi, however, only responded with a slight shrug, his expression calm and unbothered. Yet the subtle glint in his eyes—a knowing, almost mischievous gleam—suggested he understood far more than he was letting on.

Shaking off the uncomfortable atmosphere that had crept over them again, Sakura busied herself by carefully slicing the cake and handing out utensils.

Sasuke eyed the dessert with visible disinterest, his expression flat. “I don’t like sweets,” he announced, his tone as blunt as ever. Especially not one brought by him.

Meanwhile, Itachi, already halfway through his slice, glanced at Sasuke with an amused smile. “Then you’re in luck, little brother,” he said lightly, savoring the sweetness with obvious enjoyment.

Sakura took her first bite, a soft hum of approval escaping her lips as she relished the fluffy texture and subtle sweetness. She looked at Sasuke. Her eyes, wide and earnest, seemed to silently plead with him as she tilted her head toward his untouched plate.

For a moment, Sasuke hesitated. There was a quiet rebellion against indulging in something he claimed to dislike. But as his eyes flicked to Itachi and then to Sakura, both engrossed in their slices, he finally relented.

“Fine,” he muttered with an air of resignation, taking a small bite of the cake.

To Sasuke’s surprise, the cake turned out to be far better than he’d expected. It was cotton-soft and moist, with a subtle bitterness that lingered at the edges of his tongue, perfectly balanced by the faintest hint of sweetness. He took another bite, then another, finding that the flavors didn’t overwhelm him as he had feared. Instead, they lingered in a way that was surprisingly pleasant, almost soothing.

Sakura, who had been sitting on the edge of her heels, watched him with quiet anticipation. Her heart gave a small flutter as she noticed Sasuke’s reluctant enjoyment. It was a small victory, but to her, it felt like a triumph.

Itachi, ever perceptive, couldn’t resist seizing the opportunity. “How’s the cake?” he asked, his voice light, though there was a knowing gleam in his eye as he watched his younger brother.

Sasuke paused, swallowing the last bite, his eyes narrowing as he thought over the taste. After a brief moment, he gave a small nod, grudgingly impressed. “Good,” he admitted, the word coming out slower than usual, like it cost him more than he was willing to admit.

Beside him, Sakura let out an audible breath of relief, the weight of her own anticipation lifting as a smile spread across her face. She couldn’t help but feel her heart swelling with a quiet satisfaction at Sasuke’s approval.

Sasuke, his spoon hovering over his plate, blinked in surprise as the full realization hit him. His gaze shifted from the cake to Sakura, and a small, sheepish flush crept onto his cheeks. “Did you make this?” he asked, his voice betraying a slight guilt for having judged it too early and too harshly.

Sakura immediately brightened, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she nodded enthusiastically. “I even used the matcha brand that your brother said you love!” she exclaimed, her pride radiating from her like a glow.

Sasuke looked at the two people in front of him as Sakura’s word settled in, a wave of unexpected appreciation washing over him. He cleared his throat, his tone more earnest than usual. “Thank you,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on both Sakura and Itachi before he quickly focused on finishing his cake, deliberately avoiding their eyes. He wasn’t sure if the warmth in his face was from the alcohol or the slight embarrassment he felt from his own rare display of gratitude.

But just as quickly as that moment passed, Sasuke’s mood darkened when his eyes landed on his brother again. Itachi, with his signature calm and composed demeanor, was reaching for another piece of the cake. His movements were slow and deliberate, lifting a spoonful up to Sakura’s mouth with an unsettling ease. The act was almost too natural, as if such an intimate gesture was nothing out of the ordinary, something they’d shared before.

“Oh, I think I have enough cake for today,” Sakura said, her voice light but laced with uncertainty. Her polite refusal came with a nervous laugh, unsure of how to act.

“One more bite won’t hurt,” Itachi said, a teasing glint in his eyes. “It’s your cake, after all.”

Caught off guard by his insistence and unsure how to decline without sounding rude, Sakura relented. She opened her mouth, ready to accept the offered bite. But before she could taste the sweetness, Sasuke deftly directed Itachi’s spoonful to his mouth instead. The familiar taste of cake filled Sasuke’s mouth, but all he could focus on was its bitterness.

“How rude, Sasuke,” Itachi remarked, though with mock displeasure. 

“She made it for my birthday,” Sasuke shot back between chews, the words coming out sharper than he intended. “It’s my cake.”

Sakura glanced back and forth between the two brothers, trying to make sense of the quiet tension between them, but the fog of alcohol clouded her thoughts, and she couldn’t hold onto it for long. 

Itachi’s attention, however, was already elsewhere when he noticed a small dab of cream at the corner of Sakura’s mouth. With an unhurried, almost hypnotic movement, he reached out without a word. His thumb brushed against her skin with a featherlight touch, wiping the cream away.

Before anyone could react, he brought his thumb to his own lips, tasting the sweetness. His eyes flicked briefly to Sakura, the faintest trace of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth, while the tension in the room seemed to thicken like a tangible force. 

“You should really learn to share, little brother,” Itachi remarked, his voice light and teasing, but with an edge that made the words linger.

The movement was so unexpected and fluid that both Sasuke and Sakura froze for a moment, their eyes wide in shared surprise.

Sasuke’s heart stuttered for a moment; a strange knot formed in his chest. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the nonchalance with which Itachi had made the gesture, the closeness of it, or the sudden wave of discomfort that seemed to rise within him.

“T-thank you,” Sakura’s flustered voice sliced through the heavy silence, breaking Sasuke from his spiraling thoughts. She covered her mouth with both hands, her cheeks glowing a soft pink, clearly embarrassed by the moment, but there was something else in her eyes, a flicker of confusion or perhaps even a spark of something deeper that Sasuke couldn’t name.

His glare was palpable, but Itachi, ever the master of feigned ignorance, remained unbothered. In fact, there was an almost imperceptible glint of satisfaction in his eyes, as if the exchange had unfolded precisely as he had anticipated. It was his voice that broke through the stillness, smooth and almost detached, as if he had been waiting for the right moment.

“It’s quite late already, isn’t it?” Itachi asked with a quiet, almost rehearsed finality. “I guess it’s about time I leave.”

The words hung in the air, a soft but clear cue that the night was drawing to a close. Itachi, as always, moved with unhurried precision, rising from his seat with a calm that seemed to slow time around him. As Sasuke stared at his brother in disbelief, Sakura finally snapped out of her haze. She stood up, her legs feeling a bit unsteady, but she followed Itachi like a good host, the room spinning ever so slightly. She paused in the kitchen, carefully storing the leftover cake in the fridge, before she returned to the door. Her gaze was scanning to make sure Itachi hadn’t left anything behind.

“Thank you for everything, Itachi-san,” Sakura said gratefully, her voice soft and sincere as she bowed her head in respect, a delicate flush still coloring her cheeks.

When Sakura straightened back up, she felt a soft pressure on top of her head. Itachi’s hand was resting gently on her hair, his touch warm and reassuring in a way that made her pulse quicken.

“It was my pleasure, Sakura-san.” His words were low and calm, causing a wave of warmth to spread through her chest.

“I enjoyed the party thanks to you and I’m sure Sasuke did as well.” Itachi’s smile was slight, but it held a certain knowing glint as his gaze flickered to his little brother, who had silently approached behind Sakura. Sasuke’s glare was as sharp as ever, his presence cutting through the air with a simmering intensity. His eyes narrowed in silent protest, though he didn’t speak. “Let me know if you need anything in the future.” 

Sasuke watched the exchange with a flicker of annoyance until his irritation beneath the surface broke free.

“Don’t patronize her,” Sasuke grumbled, his voice low and sharp as he stepped forward, swatting Itachi’s hand away from Sakura’s head in a quick and almost reflexive movement. 

Horrified by her roommate’s rudeness, Sakura quickly chimed in, her voice a little flustered but firm. “I’m not offended, Itachi-san,” she said, glancing between the two brothers, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly thickened the air once again.

Itachi simply laughed, a soft, amused sound that carried a warmth that didn’t quite match the awkwardness in the room. “It’s something I used to do when Sasuke was still only up to my hip,” he explained with a smile, his tone light and playful. “I assure you it’s of fondness.”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened at the mention of the past. It was a gesture Sasuke had actively avoided as he grew taller and matured in his own way. Over time, Itachi had respected Sasuke’s desire to be treated more like an adult, letting go of those gestures. So why did it bother him now to see Itachi treating Sakura with that same gentleness?

“Don’t get jealous now, Sasuke." Itachi’s words sliced through Sasuke’s spiraling thoughts, his voice smooth and teasing, but the underlying bite was clear.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sasuke muttered, trying to brush off his brother’s comment with a sharp edge to his voice. But when he noticed Sakura’s gaze on him, a flicker of confusion and curiosity in her eyes, he quickly averted his. Grunting a terse goodbye, he decided to attribute his brusqueness to the lingering effects of alcohol. His brother, however, responded with a smile that was equal parts amusement and resignation, as if he’d seen through Sasuke’s thin facade.

“Be careful on your way home!” Sakura chimed in, her tone warm as she watched Itachi depart. 

The pink on her cheeks didn’t escape Sasuke’s notice, and he wondered if it was from the alcohol or something else entirely, the way she seemed so taken with his older brother.

“I’ll let you know when I arrive home,” Itachi called back. 

“Don’t bother,” Sasuke replied curtly, his words sharp and dismissive, a thin veneer of irritation coating them.

The response drew a quiet laugh from Itachi, his amusement barely masked as he turned to glance back at his younger brother.

“Uchiha-san, that was rude!” Sakura chided, her voice carrying the slight edge of concern mixed with disapproval.

Sasuke scoffed, clearly unconcerned. “He’ll be fine,” he muttered, his eyes already distant, a nonchalant shrug in his posture as if it didn’t matter. Still, Sakura’s eyes lingered on the spot where Itachi had been, watching him disappear around the corner. Sasuke couldn’t help but notice the softness in her expression, the subtle warmth that hadn’t been there when she first met him.

Sakura took a deep breath and let out a long sigh of relief. The soft hum of the room seemed to echo her exhale, the energy of the party dissipating into the quiet. Despite the awkward moments and the strange, heavy tension that had lingered in the air, she considered the party a success.

All that remained were a multitude of dishes waiting to be washed, their presence looming over the quiet room like an unspoken challenge. Technically, it was Sasuke’s turn to tackle the dishes that night, but Sakura adamantly refused to let him, insisting it was his birthday and he deserved a break. Sasuke, however, remained unmoved.

“Don’t be so stubborn, Uchiha-san. You have plenty of days ahead to do the dishes,” Sakura argued as she nudged him aside.

Sasuke scoffed in response. “You’re the stubborn one,” he muttered under his breath, though the frustration wasn’t entirely serious.

With neither willing to concede, they found themselves standing side by side at the sink, the soft sound of water filling the space between them. The dishes clinked quietly as they worked, their movements almost in sync, though neither spoke a word. The air between them was oddly peaceful, but there was still a certain tension that lingered just beneath the surface.

“You seem to be getting quite close to my brother,” Sasuke remarked casually, his tone light but his words carefully chosen, though he wasn’t fully aware of how close he and Sakura were standing at the cramped sink, the space between them feeling suddenly smaller.

Sakura chuckled softly at the comment, a laugh that held a touch of pride as she focused on scrubbing a stubborn stain from a plate. “I wouldn’t say we’re that close,” she replied, her tone amused but modest, as if the closeness wasn’t something she fully recognized herself.

Sasuke let out a long, tired breath, his shoulders stiffening slightly as the question slipped from his mouth without thinking. “Do you like him?” His voice was quiet but sharp, the question hanging in the air with an unfamiliar edge, something raw and vulnerable.

Her answer came without hesitation. “Of course I do; he’s such a warm and considerate person,” she admitted. “He had been so supportive and dependable while we were planning the party for you.”

Sasuke’s gaze dropped to the sink, noticing the food scraps and remnants of the evening’s festivities. As his mind drifted to his previous misunderstanding about Sakura’s relationship with Sai and what Itachi said about the mysterious boy Sakura often spoke on the phone with, Sasuke felt a pang of selfishness and insecurity.

Who was he to judge? He wasn’t her guardian, nor was he in any position to dictate whom she should or shouldn’t spend time with. Sasuke clenched his jaw, unable to meet her gaze. 

“I wouldn’t oppose... if it’s you two,” Sasuke finally ventured. His voice was quieter than usual, the words awkward as they tumbled out, as though he were still wrestling with his feelings

“Opposed to what?” Sakura turned to him, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she tried to make sense of his words.

“You two dating,” Sasuke clarified, his tone uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure why he was even saying it aloud.

Sakura was momentarily taken aback, her surprise evident in the way her eyes widened. Then she burst into laughter, the sound light and bright. “Uchiha-san, I think you’ve had one too many beers. Didn’t you mention your brother was taken?”

Sasuke sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I lied,” he admitted, his voice low. “I actually don’t know if he’s in a relationship or not.”

Sakura blinked in surprise, the hint of confusion crossing her face as she processed his words. “Oh,” she said slowly, her tone softening as she tried to understand. “Why did you?”

Sasuke shrugged, though it felt heavier than usual, as if the simple motion was too much for his tired frame. “I don’t know,” he muttered, the words coming out more as an admission of confusion than anything else.

Sakura, still processing Sasuke’s admission, found herself puzzled not only by his response but also Itachi. She had spent a good amount of time talking to Itachi, yet he hadn’t bothered to clarify the rumor either.

“Thanks for letting me know,” she said thoughtfully. “But I don’t think that really changes the dynamic of our relationship.”

Sasuke glanced over at her, struck by the simplicity of her words and the genuine sincerity in her eyes. There was no awkwardness in her tone, no hesitation, just an honest acknowledgment of the situation. For all his internal conflict, she had spoken as if it was no big deal, which, in a strange way, only made him feel more guilty.

“Sorry,” he muttered quietly, the apology slipping out almost automatically, though it felt heavier than he anticipated.

“For what?” Sakura asked, drying her hands on the towel, her tone light and unbothered. She wasn’t sure what else he was apologizing for after already admitting to lying.

“For messing with you earlier.” Sasuke’s voice softened at the memory, and he glanced away, his usual defensive demeanor faltering slightly. “It won’t happen again.”

Sakura paused for a moment before giving him a small smile, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she remembered the earlier incident. “Apology accepted,” she said. “But I’d appreciate it if you don’t forget your clothes next time.”

Sasuke chuckled, the sound low and rare, as he noticed the faint blush creeping onto Sakura’s cheeks. She seemed to struggle with maintaining eye contact, her usual composure faltering just a bit.

She’s one to talk. 

“Noted.”

“And happy birthday, Uchiha-san,” Sakura said, her voice genuine, laced with a faint tremor of affection that she hoped wasn’t too obvious.

Sasuke’s eyes flickered, the steely veneer cracking just enough to reveal a softer light beneath his usual guarded demeanor. Vulnerability danced there for a fleeting moment. “It’s Sasuke,” he corrected, his tone more earnest than before.

Sakura’s cheeks warmed even further as she processed his words. Her heartbeat quickened in the silence that followed, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “What?” she asked, her voice a little shaky, a blush creeping down to her neck. 

She hadn’t thought twice when Itachi had suggested they use each other’s first names—it had felt natural, casual, even. But with Sasuke, the same gesture carried an unexplainable weight, one that wrapped around her chest and made it hard to breathe. It felt more intimate, more significant somehow, as if his simple correction was a thread pulling them closer, tying them into something delicate and unspoken.

Mistaking Sakura’s hesitation for resistance, however, Sasuke’s expression faltered ever so slightly. The shyness that rarely made an appearance crept into Sasuke’s voice as he added, “…my birthday present.”

Sakura’s face grew even warmer. She knew she couldn’t find it in herself to deny him, not when he asked so sincerely—especially with that barely there pout tugging at his lips that disarmed her so completely. “Oh, s-sure,” she stammered, her voice soft. “Then you can call me Sakura as well... Sasuke-kun.”

Sakura’s gaze flicked nervously to his as if searching for his approval. His name felt both foreign and exhilarating on her tongue, a thrill that sent her heart racing despite her best efforts to stay composed.

It might have been the lingering haze of alcohol softening his inhibitions or the quiet satisfaction at the shift in their relationship, but Sasuke found himself acting with a boldness that surprised even him. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reached out. His hand hovered for a moment before he let it rest carefully over Sakura’s, his touch warm and deliberate yet featherlight—almost as if afraid she might pull away. “Thank you for today, Sakura.”

Sakura’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name on his lips. He only said it once, but already she found herself growing fond of the way it felt coming from him. The warmth spreading from his touch made her feel both grounded and lightheaded at once.

“You’re very welcome, Sasuke-kun,” she replied, unable to hide the tremble in her voice. Her throat felt tight, constricted with an unexpected wave of nervousness.

When Sasuke withdrew his hand, it felt like a small shift—like something important had just passed between them, and it left Sakura feeling a bit dazed. She quickly turned away, leaving Sasuke to finish washing the last plate as she made her way to the bathroom, hoping the distance would give her time to collect herself. 

Once she was alone, she leaned against the cool bathroom wall, her breath coming out in a sharp exhale. Her heart was racing, her palms still slightly clammy from the brief touch they’d shared. Sasuke had always been a mystery to her, but now it was as though he held a secret key to her heart. She tried to calm herself, but every time she thought of his words and his touch, the effect it had on her only seemed to grow stronger.

It didn’t seem fair at all to her, the way Sasuke had such a hold on her without even realizing it.

Chapter Text

It was finally the end of July, the oppressive weight of exams lifting like a storm cloud breaking apart to reveal clear skies and the long-awaited beginning of summer vacation. Outside, the city pulsed with the vibrant energy of the season. Children’s laughter rang out from a nearby park, their shrieks blending with the rhythmic creak of swings and the cheerful hum of cicadas. Families lounged on worn picnic blankets beneath the sprawling shade of giant trees, the sunlight filtering through the leaves in golden patches.

Inside the cramped apartment, however, Sasuke and Sakura found themselves spending their summer afternoons in silence. Sasuke lounged on the floor near the table, absently flipping through the pages of a novel he wasn’t really reading. His dark eyes flicked occasionally to the window, where sunlight leaked through the thin curtains, casting faint shadows across his sharp features. As always, he seemed perfectly content in the stillness, his aversion to crowds and noise keeping him tethered to the apartment.

In the small adjoining kitchen, Sakura stood by the counter, the soft thunk of her knife against the cutting board breaking the silence at regular intervals. The sweet, sticky aroma of ripe fruit filled the warm air as she worked, her fingers brushing against the cool skin of a peach before slicing it into even segments. Yet her focus wavered; her emerald eyes flickered repeatedly toward the door.

“You’ve been looking at that door for the past hour,” Sasuke remarked dryly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. Finally closing the novel he’d been pretending to read, Sasuke rose from the floor. He stretched lazily, his movements unhurried, before making his way toward the fridge for a drink to fight off the heat that seemed to press against the apartment walls.

Sakura stepped aside as he approached, the cramped kitchen forcing their proximity. Her shoulder brushed against his briefly, the casual contact sending a faint warmth to her cheeks. She glanced away, focusing on the fruit on the counter. 

“It’ll be here soon,” she said, more to herself than to him. She was waiting for something special today—a package from her childhood friend. The thought of its arrival filled her with an almost childlike excitement. “I can feel it.”

Just as Sasuke was about to return to his spot by the table, the shrill chime of the doorbell broke through the apartment’s quiet. Being closer, it made sense for Sasuke to answer, so with a resigned sigh, he turned toward the door. Behind him, Sakura perked up at the sound, but she quickly tempered her excitement to not be disappointed. 

Unlike Itachi’s place, their old apartment lacked the convenience of a camera linked to the doorbell. There was no way to check who waited on the other side, leaving them to rely solely on guesswork. It wasn’t a huge concern, given their almost nonexistent visitor count. Usually, the unexpected ring of the doorbell meant one thing: an NHK worker coming to collect overdue fees. Although those visits have become rare lately after they had firmly insisted that they couldn’t even afford a television.

Still, Sasuke braced himself for the possibility as he reached for the door handle, his expression bordering on bored. He opened the door, fully expecting to see a delivery person holding Sakura’s much-anticipated package. Instead, the breath was knocked out of him as a blur of movement tackled him.

“Surprise, Sakura-ch–ARGH!”

Caught entirely off guard, Sasuke barely had time to process the words before the force of the impact sent him crashing onto the floor, a boy roughly his size landing squarely on top of him. 

The collision was a blur of tangled limbs, rustling fabric, and an unfortunate smack! A sharp jolt of shock ran through Sasuke as he registered the unmistakable sensation of the boy’s lips pressing against his.

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Time stretched agonizingly long in the suspended silence, broken only by the faint creak of the door swinging shut behind them. Sasuke and the boy froze, wide-eyed, their faces mere inches apart as the accidental kiss lingered in the air like an uninvited guest.

Across the hall, Sakura stood rooted in place, momentarily stunned by the surreal scene unfolding before her.

“Yuck! Who the hell are you?!” The boy exclaimed, his voice cracking with outrage as he flailed backward, scrambling off Sasuke like he’d just touched a live wire. His movements were frantic, almost comical, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression twisting into one of pure horror. He jabbed an accusing finger at him, his hand trembling slightly, as if demanding an explanation for the offense.

Sasuke propped himself up on his elbows, his expression contorting into a mirror of disgust. “That’s my question!” He shot back, his voice sharp and biting. He wiped his mouth furiously with the back of his hand, as if trying to erase the memory of what had just happened.

“Naruto?!” Sakura’s voice cut through the tension, high-pitched and filled with shock. 

The blonde boy snapped to attention at the sound of his name, his head whipping toward her. “Sakura-chan! There you are!” He exclaimed, his earlier indignation melting into a sunny grin. 

His blue eyes lit up with recognition and excitement as he jumped to his feet in one fluid motion, brushing off his rumpled clothes with a nonchalance that belied the chaos he’d just caused. “What’s going on? Who’s this guy?” He asked, his gaze shifting to Sasuke with a puzzled frown, his tone teetering between suspicion and genuine curiosity.

“Again, that’s my question!” Sasuke interjected, his frustration bubbling over. His dark eyes darted between Naruto and Sakura, his voice sharp with irritation at being excluded from whatever reunion this was. But no one seemed the least bit interested in answering him.

Sakura, the only one with the answer to both of the boys' questions, found herself utterly overwhelmed and momentarily unable to provide any answers. Her heart pounded in her chest, emotions crashing over her in waves—disbelief, joy, and a touch of lingering shock from Naruto’s dramatic entrance. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, she bolted across the room and threw her arms around Naruto, wrapping him in a fierce embrace. 

The momentum of her movement startled him, but only for a moment. Naruto quickly steadied himself and returned the embrace just as warmly, their laughter echoing through the small apartment like a burst of sunlight.

Meanwhile, Sasuke stood off to the side, brushing invisible dust from his clothes. Straightening his rumpled shirt, he cast a sidelong glance at the pair, his dark eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. A flicker of irritation crossed his face—not only because of their enthusiasm but also because of the uncomfortable tug of realization that came with it.

It was painfully clear to Sasuke that, whoever this Naruto guy was, he occupied a special place in Sakura’s heart. It wasn’t just the way she clung to him, her face glowing with an unguarded joy he’d rarely seen, but the ease between them, the way they fit together so effortlessly. 

Sasuke frowned. He had never seen Sakura react like this to anyone else—not to Itachi, whom he’d once assumed she harbored feelings for, nor to the pale boy she often spent time with alongside Ino. 

Pulling back from the hug, Sakura took a step back, her hands still lightly resting on Naruto’s arms. It was the first chance she’d had to truly take him in. Gone was the short, scrawny kid she remembered from junior high, the one who always seemed to be covered in bandages from his reckless antics. In his place stood a man—taller, broader, and unmistakably stronger. His well-built frame was a far cry from the wiry boy she used to tease, and she now found herself instinctively tilting her head up just to meet his gaze. But despite being struck by how much he had physically changed, she could see that his whisker-like markings and the charm of his bright smile were still there. 

“I haven’t seen you in years, Naruto,” she said, her voice soft with amazement, as though she still couldn’t quite believe he was standing in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

Naruto tittered at the obvious amazement in Sakura’s voice. “Well, I—”

“Wait a minute, how and what are you doing here?” Sakura cut in before Naruto could get another word out, her tone accusatory as her brow furrowed in thought. “I specifically told you to not come to my apartment!” 

Naruto’s wide grin faltered immediately, the usual confidence in his eyes slipping away as a flicker of panic crossed his features. He opened his mouth to explain himself, but Sakura’s sharp rang through the room again, her eyes widening as the truth dawned on her. “I can’t believe you!” She hissed, her voice tight with disbelief and betrayal. “I sent you my address because I thought you were sending me a care package!”

Sakura’s temper erupted in an instant. Without a second thought, she grabbed Naruto by his collar, yanking him upward. Even though his feet continue to stay planted on the ground, the fierceness in her eyes and the force of her grip had him feeling like he was teetering on the edge of losing his balance. Naruto was instantly reminded of her unchanged temper—the same anger he’d seen years ago, the same fire that always made him feel both intimidated and oddly awed by her.

Naruto’s sheepish grin returned, though it was laced with nervous energy. He raised both hands in a placating gesture, his fingers splayed out, as if trying to push back the storm of her fury with an apologetic smile. “I know, I know!” He said quickly, his voice higher than usual. “I just really wanted to surprise you in person! Did I mention I missed you a lot?”

In an attempt to mollify Sakura’s explosive reaction, Naruto swept her into a tight, enthusiastic hug, his long arms wrapping around her with the exuberance of a puppy unaware of its own strength. The force of the hug lifted Sakura clean off her feet, her feet dangling above the ground.

Sakura, seething with irritation, found herself tightening her grip on his collar in a clear display of her fraying patience. Naruto continued to grin like a fool, his wide smile practically glowing with misplaced confidence. From an outsider’s perspective, it was difficult to determine who was actually threatening who. It was almost comical if Sasuke wasn’t already in such a sour mood.

Sasuke wasn’t here to witness a reunion; he was here to understand what the hell was going on. His patience was rapidly thinning, and so, with a sharp exhale, he cleared his throat loudly. The sound sliced through the room, forcing both Naruto and Sakura to pause mid-moment.

Sakura, catching the hint of frustration in Sasuke’s voice, sighed deeply in defeat. She released Naruto’s collar with a decisive tug, smoothing out the wrinkles caused by her fist, like she was offering a peace offering. 

“Let me down, idiot,” she said, tapping Naruto’s shoulders firmly to get his attention. Her tone was tinged with an exasperated patience that only Naruto could inspire.

Naruto happily complied. He had learned long ago that restraining Sakura when she was angry wasn’t just risky—it was a ticking time bomb. But this time, he was just relieved that his strategy hadn’t backfired entirely.

The three of them made their way to the table in silence. Sakura sat with her back to the kitchen, positioned between the two boys who, despite their shared history with her, continued to send sharp glares at each other after their less-than-pleasant introduction. The space between them was still charged with the remnants of the awkwardness and confusion.

With everyone seated, Sakura took a deep breath, deciding it was best to start with some proper introductions. She turned toward Sasuke first, her expression softening as she prepared to bridge the gap between the two.

“Sasuke-kun, this is Uzumaki Naruto,” she said, gesturing toward her right with an open hand. “He’s my brother.”

Sasuke repeated the last name under his breath, his tone betraying a flicker of recognition. His sharp gaze didn’t waver from Naruto, scrutinizing him from head to toe. 

Meanwhile, catching herself in time, Sakura added, “Sorry, we’ve known each other for so long that it’s just an old habit by now. He’s actually my friend.”

“Boyfriend,” Naruto piped up with a smug grin.

“Boy. Friend,” Sakura corrected again, emphasizing the space between the words as she glared at him. “From childhood.”

Knowing he was testing her patience, Naruto wisely decided not to argue. Instead, when Sakura wasn’t looking, Naruto subtly shook his head at an unamused Sasuke. Sasuke returned the gesture with a scowl, clearly unimpressed by the blonde’s antics.

Sasuke’s mind was elsewhere now, sifting through the fragments of conversation. He recalled the passing mention Sakura had made of having a brother. The unease began to simmer in his chest as the pieces clicked into place. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the fact that Sakura still called the blonde her “brother” out of habit or the unsettling realization that this was the same boy she used to sleep next to without her slug lamp.

Continuing their introductions, Sakura gestured to her left at Sasuke. “Naruto, this is—”

“None of his business,” Sasuke cut in abruptly, leaving both Sakura and Naruto in shock at his rude response. Sakura wasn’t sure why her roommate was acting so cold, but she reasoned that, like her, he was probably taken off guard by the unexpected appearance of Naruto. She could still remember how uneasy she had felt the first time Itachi had shown up unannounced in her apartment. Maybe Sasuke just needed time to adjust to this new intrusion into their space.

Naruto, however, wasn’t one to back down. His face flushed with irritation, his hand slamming down on the table with a force that made the cups rattle. The action was so sudden that Sakura flinched, but Naruto was already leaning in, his face dangerously close to Sasuke’s. “You being in Sakura-chan’s apartment is all of my business, you bastard!” he growled. 

Sasuke, however, remained stoic, his eyes narrowing slightly but otherwise showing no reaction to Naruto’s aggression. 

“It’s my apartment,” he stated simply, as if the explanation required no further elaboration.

“What?!” Naruto exploded.

“Naruto, calm down!” Sakura shushed her childhood friend, her voice urgent and stern as she reached out to place a hand on his arm. “Sasuke-kun’s my roommate due to a misunderstanding with the landlord.”

Naruto’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief, the weight of the scandalous implications crashing into him like a freight train. His mouth fell open, but no words came out at first, just an inarticulate sputter of outrage. His gaze darted around the room, taking in its modest size as if that somehow made the situation even more outrageous.

“You’re telling me you guys are living together?” He finally managed, his voice rising several octaves as his arms flailed wildly. He gestured around the room in exaggerated sweeps, his fingers pointing at the shared space like it was some kind of crime scene. “Before marriage?!”

Sakura’s patience snapped like a frayed wire, her face flushing with the sudden surge of anger.

“Did you even listen to what I just said, Naruto?” She seethed, slamming her hands on the table. Sasuke winced inwardly, already anticipating the dreaded noise complaint from the neighbors. “It was a misunderstanding and we have no other choice! That’s why I didn’t want you to come to my apartment in the first place!”

Facing the full force of Sakura’s explosive fury, Naruto instantly raised both hands in surrender. “Ok, ok! I get it, Sakura-chan,” he said quickly, his tone softening as his earlier bravado disappeared. “I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t think it was so serious!”

Sakura huffed in annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest as her frustration simmered beneath the surface. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone, especially my mother, or you’re dead to me,” she warned.

“And you call me dramatic,” Naruto mumbled, leering at his friend but doing as he was told. “Here.” With a dramatic sigh, he presented his pinky finger toward her, a silent acknowledgment that he knew exactly how serious she was about this.

Sakura didn’t hesitate. Her own pinky hooked around his, the grip tight enough to communicate the gravity of the promise. “A thousand needles, Naruto,” she muttered, her face stone-cold serious

“Ok, ok!” Naruto replied with a wince, prying Sakura’s pinky off with his other hand. He had gotten taller, more muscular, but her grip hadn’t softened over the years. It was still as fierce and uncompromising as ever.

“But you know, Sakura-chan,” Naruto began. “What if you just move in with me?”

Sasuke stiffened at the suggestion, the subtle shift in his posture betraying his otherwise calm facade. His dark eyes darted toward Naruto, sharp and narrow, silently questioning the audacity of the offer. He instinctively opened his mouth to protest, but a rare flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, and he quickly shut his mouth again. It wasn’t his place to object.

Instead, Sasuke turned his gaze toward Sakura, his expression unreadable yet intense. Though he said nothing, the silent plea in his eyes was unmistakable.

“My place isn’t much bigger, but at least the area’s safer. And you wouldn’t be living with a stranger,” Naruto continued. His blue eyes gleamed with defiance as he shot a pointed leer at Sasuke.

Sasuke met Naruto’s glare with one of his own. Though his expression remained composed, there was an unmistakable tension in the set of his jaw and the way his shoulders squared, as if preparing for an unseen battle.

“That’s really nice of you, Naruto,” Sakura said, her voice warm but noncommittal, and Sasuke’s stomach twisted. A quiet panic began rising in his chest, coiling tighter with every word exchanged.

This was her childhood friend, the one who had always been by her side, through thick and thin. How could he possibly compete with that? It didn’t matter how close he thought he and Sakura had become in the past few months. Those few months felt insignificant when compared to the years of shared memories and unwavering loyalty Naruto had with her.

And yet, despite the logical part of his mind telling him otherwise, Sasuke selfishly hoped—hoped Sakura would choose to stay with him.

“But I like living here,” Sakura said, her voice clear and decisive. 

Sasuke’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding his breath until that very moment. His chest loosened, though his expression remained calm, composed—he wouldn’t let it slip. But in his eyes, just for a moment, there was a flicker of relief, so subtle it might have been imagined.

Sakura glanced over at him, just for a second, but when their gazes met, she quickly averted her eyes, her cheeks faintly pink. “And let’s be honest here, Naruto,” she added, her tone turning light and teasing, “you’re not exactly the cleanest person to live with.”

“What? My room wasn’t that bad!” Naruto exclaimed, his voice rising in defensive indignation. 

Sakura ignored him, however, as she continued, “Besides, last time I checked, you don’t live here.”

Naruto beamed, the bright grin returning as he leaned back in his chair, exuding an almost childlike pride. “Well, I do now, in Tokyo,” he said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Sakura’s eyes widened, her shock palpable as she leaned forward. “Wait, why?” Her voice was tinged with disbelief. Last she’d heard, he’d left Hino Village more than three years ago for Kobe.

Naruto’s grin only grew wider, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “And I got a job at a ramen shop!” He announced, as if it were the most impressive achievement of his life.

“Wait! Really?!” Sakura’s hands slammed onto the table again, as if the realization that Naruto had become responsible enough to have a job was too much for her to process all at once.

Naruto crossed his arms, a pout forming on his lips as he squinted at her. His blue eyes were clouded with confusion and a touch of suspicion. “Why do both of those questions sound so negative?” He asked with offense in his voice. Was it that hard to believe he’d actually managed to get his life together?

Catching herself, Sakura laughed lightly. Her eyes softened, a fondness creeping into her gaze as she looked at him. “Sorry, Naruto, it’s just... It’s been so long, and it’s almost unbelievable how much you’ve changed since the last time I saw you.”

Naruto sat just a little straighter at the compliment, a proud smile spreading across his face. He pushed his chest out, soaking in the praise.

Sakura couldn’t suppress the warmth that spread through her at his reaction. Without thinking, her hand moved to ruffle his spiky hair—just like she used to when they were kids. The familiar gesture brought a wave of nostalgia over her.

“Now that you’re all grown, are you going to be the one treating me this time around?” Sakura teased, her voice light and playful as she flashed a wide grin.

“Well, I’m not working right now since I asked for a few days off for the summer,” he replied with an almost mischievous smile, his shoulders relaxed as he leaned forward, eager to share his plans.

“Are you going somewhere?” Sakura asked curiously.

“To the beach, of course! And you’re coming with me!” Naruto declared, pointing a finger dramatically at Sakura, his energy bubbling over. The enthusiasm in his voice was so contagious that even Sasuke found himself momentarily distracted by the unrestrained joy in Naruto’s tone.

“Oh–”

“And I know what you’re going to say,” Naruto continued, clapping his hands together with an exaggerated flourish. He lifted his voice, mimicking Sakura’s tone to perfection. “Oh no, Naruto, I’m so busy! Sorry, Naruto, but I have schoolwork to do!”

Sasuke thought Naruto’s impression was weirdly spot-on, but judging by the narrowing of Sakura’s eyes and the twitch of her lips, he wisely chose not to mention it.

“So I have prepared this list of 50 reasons why you’re coming with me. One, not going to the beach for summer is lame. Two, you need to stop being such a ner—”

Sakura swiftly pinched Naruto’s lips shut. She knew this was the start of another of his idiotic antics, given the fact that there was no way he could remember more than three things in a row, let alone fifty.

“I’m going to stop you right there before I change my mind,” Sakura gritted out. Naruto, sensing her irritation, wisely stayed quiet, his expression one of exaggerated innocence. 

“Before you rudely interrupted and wrongly insulted me again, I was actually going to say ‘ok.’” Sakura continued, her voice softening a little but still carrying a touch of annoyance. It felt like one of those days where she’d have to drag him through every single detail just to get him to stay on track.

“Mm-mm?” Naruto’s eyes lit up, the excitement practically radiating off him, his hopeful smile only widening.

Sakura couldn’t help but snort at the exaggerated ventriloquist-like performance he was attempting. “Yeah,” she nodded, unable to fully conceal the fondness in her tone. 

“Hell yeah!” Naruto shouted at the top of his lungs, hands shooting upward in celebration.

“Are you unable to stop yelling for one minute, idiot?” Sasuke complained, his sharp tone cutting through the air as he grimaced, using a finger to block his ear from the sudden burst of noise.

“Oh! Do you want to come too, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura asked, her voice softening with a hint of guilt as she realized she’d been so caught up in her own excitement that she’d completely forgotten he was even in the room. She felt a tug of discomfort in her chest at the thought that Sasuke might feel left out.

Sensing the slight pity in Sakura’s voice, Sasuke replied flatly, “I’ll pass.” The words were as cold as ice, and Sakura’s hope quickly fizzled away, replaced by a quiet sense of disappointment she couldn’t quite shake off.

“Are you sure?” Sakura persisted, trying to convince him with a hopeful expression. “It’s going to be fun.”

Taking offense at Sasuke’s seemingly dismissive demeanor toward Sakura, Naruto frowned as he waved his hands dismissively. “Forget the loser, Sakura-chan,” he said. His voice was louder than usual, the words sharp, like a challenge. “I bet he doesn’t even know how to swim; let’s just go with the two of us.”

Naruto’s words were like a slap in the face for Sasuke. He did, in fact, know how to swim. As a child, his parents had ensured he took swimming lessons. But in truth, Sasuke rarely had the chance to go to the beach. As a child, his family’s outings had always been formal affairs, surrounded by the expectations of the clan. Fun wasn’t a word that fit into those structured, pressure-filled moments. This trip was a perfect opportunity to experience the beach in a more relaxed setting, away from the pressures of his upbringing. Naruto’s taunting was just the final push Sasuke needed.

Not only that, it just dawned on him that there was no way in hell he was letting Sakura go to the beach with another boy, best friend or not. He needed to make sure she didn’t get swept up in Naruto’s endless energy alone.

“Count me in,” Sasuke gritted out as he glared at Naruto, who was leaning over the table at Sasuke, trying to invade his personal space again.

“Are you sure you’re making the right choice there, jerk?” Naruto shot back, a challenging gleam in his eyes.

Sasuke folded his arms tightly across his chest. His chin lifted in a subtle yet unmistakable display of defiance, his gaze dropping down to meet Naruto’s from under the sharp angle of his nose. “I don’t see how it isn’t.”

“You know, any closer and you guys might be reenacting the scene at the front door,” Sakura interjected with a light chuckle that cut through the thick tension between the two boys. 

Sasuke and Naruto whipped their heads away simultaneously, as if they’d been burned, and let out exaggerated ‘hmphs!’ in unison. The sound of it echoed between them, an almost comical display of defiance as they both avoided looking at each other’s stupid mug, their faces flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation. Naruto’s gaze flickered briefly toward Sasuke, only to snap away almost instantly, his jaw tightening in silent protest. Sasuke, too, shifted uncomfortably, his posture stiff as he crossed his arms.

Sakura crackled, her laughter bubbling out effortlessly as she watched them, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement. Seeing the two of them act like this filled her with an odd sense of warmth and joy. If not a relaxing trip to the beach, at least she knew for sure the strange dynamic between them would make for one hell of an interesting and memorable day.

Chapter Text

Sakura had woken up early to pack, her excitement bubbling over as she prepared for the day ahead. The thought of the trip had filled her with anticipation, and for once, she felt a lightness that seemed to chase away her usual worries. However, it wasn’t until the two of them were walking together outside on the street that the realization struck her: this was the first time they had purposefully gone out in public together.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought, and she quickly glanced over at her roommate. Sasuke walked beside her with his usual cool confidence, his sharp features illuminated by the soft morning light. She caught a fleeting glimpse of his profile—calm, composed, and so effortlessly striking—and her chest tightened, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling inside her.

“Sasuke-kun, is it okay to be... out together like this?” She asked tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to gauge his mood.

Sasuke turned his head slightly to look at her, his dark eyes narrowing just a fraction. The questioning look on his face quickly turned to mild annoyance, though his tone remained measured. “What’s wrong with it?”

His bluntness threw her off, and she could feel her cheeks grow warm under his gaze. Had he simply chosen to make an exception for this trip? Or had he forgotten about the rule they usually follow on campus? If he had forgotten, would mentioning it make him think she didn’t want to be seen with him when, in reality, the opposite was true? The thought of being at his side, walking openly like this, filled her with a quiet joy she didn’t quite know how to express. 

Making up her mind, Sakura bit her lip and decided against saying anything. She shook her head, offering him a small smile, one meant to dismiss the conversation and hide her own conflicted feelings. “It’s nothing,” she said softly, her tone light. 

But even as the words left her mouth, Sakura couldn’t stop the thought from creeping in—unbidden but undeniably enticing. For just a moment, she wanted to indulge in the idea that they were something more, that they were a couple embarking on a trip together, free from rules or the unspoken boundaries that seemed to define them.

It was a beautiful sunny day. The way the sky stretched endlessly in a brilliant shade of blue and the warmth of the sun deceptively led Sakura to believe that this would be a peaceful beach trip.

As planned, the two roommates met Naruto at the bustling train station. The moment Naruto and Sasuke saw each other, the atmosphere immediately shifted as they exchanged a series of pointed glares. Already, Sakura had to step in and force the two boys to exchange civilized greetings that were not ‘jerk’ or ‘idiot’. 

Before the trip, Sakura had vowed to refrain from using violence, especially with Naruto, who had the knack to pull it out of her. In fact, it seemed Naruto had a similar effect on Sasuke, whose usually composed demeanor cracked like glass, swiftly replaced by a wave of childish irritation and restless agitation.

Taking a deep breath, Sakura reminded herself that this was supposed to be a relaxing vacation. She wanted everyone to get along and enjoy their time together. But as she watched Naruto’s signature grin morph into a smug smirk at Sasuke’s annoyed glare, a sinking feeling told her this promise might not last long.

In fact, Sakura’s vow only lasted half an hour into the train ride. The train’s gentle rocking and muted hum were meant to be soothing, but Naruto’s constant fidgeting shredded any chance of serenity. Despite being the one who insisted on going to the beach, Naruto’s complaints about the “endlessly long” one-hour ride began almost immediately, his words tumbling out in an unrelenting stream. His voice carried the high-pitched edge of a child denied a treat, earning them a few curious glances from nearby passengers. 

Naruto’s restlessness was contagious. Soon, he leaned over, his large blue eyes wide with a blend of innocence and mischief. “Can I take a nap on your shoulder?” he asked, already scooting closer without waiting for a reply.

Sakura glanced over at Naruto, the familiar weight of his antics already tugging at her patience like a stubborn itch she couldn’t ignore. She hesitated, her green eyes narrowing slightly as she mentally debated if it was worth giving in to his request to avoid further chaos. Her brow furrowed for a moment, but eventually she sighed, the sound laden with resignation. Promptly, she adjusted her posture to accommodate him. 

Excitedly, Naruto flopped down against her, his body heat radiating into her side. His messy blond hair brushed against her neck, the light tickle of it sending a faint shiver down her spine. She stiffened slightly, trying to ignore the closeness. "Just...don’t drool,” she muttered.

She had deliberately chosen to sit between the two boys, hoping her presence as a buffer zone might keep their endless bickering at bay. But peace was short-lived.

From her other side, Sasuke’s sharp gaze had been locked on Naruto, his dark eyes narrowing further with every exaggerated complaint and theatrical shift of the blonde’s head. It was as if every sound, every movement, was a personal affront. Finally, with a swift and wordless reaction, he reached behind Sakura and over her shoulders. His hand snatched a fistful of Naruto’s unruly hair and yank backward.

Naruto shrieked, jerking upright. “Bastard! You did that on purpose!” He barked, his blue eyes blazing as he straightened to glare at the dark-haired boy.

“How’d you guess?” Sasuke replied smoothly, his voice laced with dry sarcasm. Though his expression remained calm, the faintest flicker of irritation betrayed his thin patience.

Sakura groaned inwardly, her fingers pressing against the bridge of her nose as frustration bubbled to the surface. 

Why did I think this would be a good idea?  

She glanced between the two boys, now locked in their usual standoff. What had started as a hopeful attempt at a fun group outing was spiraling into chaos far quicker than she anticipated.

Realizing that the situation was escalating—and that the entire car was starting to notice their antics—Sakura knew she had to act fast. If she didn’t intervene, they’d be kicked off the train before even reaching their destination, so she decided to ignore her earlier vow and delivered a swift, precise punch to each boy’s arm. Her controlled strength was enough to jolt them both into stunned silence without drawing too much attention.

“Can we act our age in public, please?” Sakura gritted out.

Naruto and Sasuke, still rubbing their arms and muttering under their breaths, exchanged a fleeting look—a silent truce forged. They both knew better than to test Sakura any further when she was perched so precariously on the edge of her temper.

Sakura let out a deep, frustrated sigh, her earlier hopes for a peaceful outing dissolving as quickly as morning mist under the sun. The boys’ relentless bickering was like a never-ending storm, and she doubted her ability to keep the skies clear for much longer.

But then, the train pulled into the station, and as they stepped off and walked toward the beach, everything shifted.

The moment Sakura caught sight of the ocean, her frustration dissolved like salt in the sea. The endless stretch of azure water sparkled under the sun, waves rolling in with a rhythmic crash that seemed to sync perfectly with her heartbeat. A cool breeze carried the faint, briny scent of the sea, brushing against her skin and loosening the tight coil of tension in her chest.

Sakura took a deep breath, savoring the salty tang of the sea breeze as it played with her hair. The soft sand shifted beneath her feet like warm silk, its texture grounding her, pulling her away from the chaos of the train ride. She let out a sigh of relief, savoring the serene atmosphere as she staked out a spot under a rented parasol. 

Sitting down, she began to braid her hair into two neat sections, the motion slow and meditative, her fingers working with practiced ease. Then she reached for her sunscreen and began to rub it on her skin, finally able to enjoy a moment of peace and relaxation. 

Sasuke settled beside her, his expression impassive as always, though the slight furrow of his brow betrayed that he wasn’t as composed as he wanted to appear. His fingers absentmindedly twisted the cap off his own bottle of sunscreen. He stole a subtle glance at Sakura out of the corner of his eye, his gaze momentarily lingering on the long, toned lines of her legs, the way the sunlight kissed her skin, highlighting the delicate curves and the soft, natural grace of her posture.

His fingers twitched involuntarily, as if he could almost feel the sensation of her skin under his touch—soft, smooth, and warm. The brief, unexpected surge of emotion was enough to make his chest tighten and Sasuke quickly forced himself to look away.

His dark eyes flicked around the area, catching the subtle yet shameless stares of a few strangers. Sakura still didn’t seem to notice the attention she was getting, and part of Sasuke envied her ease, her obliviousness to the way she drew people in. 

He had half a mind to shrug off his jacket and toss it to her. He reasoned that it would save her the hassle of applying more sunscreen. But the thought of her covered, shielded from the wandering eyes of the men nearby, stirred something possessive within him. 

Sakura was only wearing a simple bikini yet, yet somehow the simplicity of the design made her look even more striking. Since they’d arrived and she had shed her outer layers, Sasuke had made a commendable effort to act unaffected, keeping his eyes trained on anything but her—be it the waves, the horizon, or even Naruto’s antics. Yet his resolve was starting to slip, and his stoic mask felt heavier with each passing second.

What irked him more, however, was that Sakura had also been looking anywhere but in his direction altogether. Ever since Naruto had shown up, his loud energy and constant antics had monopolized her attention, drawing her laughter and occasional exasperated reprimands. It was clear that Naruto’s presence was a distraction, one that Sasuke found increasingly irritating.

As Sakura continued to apply sunscreen, Sasuke’s eyes flicked toward her once more, a mix of frustration and determination settling in his gaze. He won’t admit defeat. If she was going to keep acting like he was invisible, then he would just have to make her notice him.

Making up his mind, Sasuke shifted slightly, edging closer to her under the shade of the parasol. “Lend me a hand?” he asked, his voice low and calm as he extended the bottle of sunscreen toward her. “I can’t quite reach my back.”

Sakura froze mid-motion. Her green eyes flicked to the bottle in his hand, her brow furrowing slightly in surprise. It wasn’t like Sasuke to ask for help, especially for something so trivial. For a moment, she wondered if she’d misheard him, but the faint quirk of his brow told her otherwise.

The effort it took to maintain her composure became so much harder in that instant. But the easy, relaxed beach atmosphere seemed to loosen her usual inhibitions. With so many people around, laughing and lounging in swimsuits, it felt like the usual boundaries had softened. 

Maybe it was that—or maybe it was the way Sasuke sat so close, his presence effortlessly magnetic, pulling her attention without even trying. Despite deciding to make an exception to their usual rule for this trip, Sakura had instinctively reverted to the habit of acting like strangers in public. It felt safer that way, as if clinging to their old dynamic gave her some semblance of control over the unfamiliar shift between them.

It also made it easier to ignore him—or at least, to pretend to—when he sat there in his swim trunks, his defined abs and muscular arms teasingly visible beneath the loose drape of his jacket. She tried to focus on anything else, but her gaze kept drifting back to him, drawn in by the quiet allure of his presence.

From the elegant curve of his collarbone to the subtle shift of his muscles beneath his jacket, everything about him seemed to exude strength and poise—an intensity that had always been there, quietly simmering, but felt even more pronounced now. It was an intensity that had drawn her in before she even fully realized it.

Now, realizing her gaze was lingering longer than it should have, her mind immediately scrambled to conjure a good excuse for her hesitation. But, with a deep breath, she managed to swallow her nervousness, forcing it down like a knot in her throat.

“Sure,” she said, her voice steady, though a small tremor ran through her as she reached out to take the bottle from his hand. There was a quiet but unmistakable shift inside her, like the first surge of a wave rising within her chest. For once, she felt confident—bold. 

She needed to prove it to herself that Sasuke’s presence didn’t have as much of an effect on her as it sometimes felt. But more than that, she needed to show him that she was always there to help, even with something as small as this. Perhaps then it would encourage him to rely on her more in the future.

Sasuke, on the other hand, felt his composure slip the moment she moved behind him, her shadow blending with his under the parasol. He had initiated this, yet now, as he waited in the charged silence, he felt an unfamiliar pang of nervousness. The anticipation of her touch set his pulse racing in a way that caught him completely off guard.

As Sakura’s dainty, light touch danced across his shoulder blade and down his spine, Sasuke stiffened instinctively, his body betraying him despite his best efforts to stay composed. The sensation sent shivers rippling through him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up in response. He clenched his jaw, silently praying that Sakura hadn’t noticed the way his body reacted to her touch.

The sensation of her hands moving across his skin was both soothing and electrifying, a contrast that left him unsure whether to focus on the physical sensation or the strange fluttering in his chest. 

Was she doing this intentionally? For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Sakura was aware of the effect she was having on him.

She shifted slightly, adjusting her position to ensure she covered every spot, and the movement brought her even closer. Sasuke’s breath hitched, but he managed to keep his composure. Just stay calm. It’s nothing, he told himself. Just sunscreen.

Somehow, his plan had unexpectedly backfired on him within its first few seconds, throwing him into disarray.

Meanwhile, Sakura was too preoccupied with her own rising nerves to notice Sasuke’s subtle unease. As her hands glided along his skin, mapping out the firm muscle of his back beneath her fingertips, her breath caught slightly at the unexpected warmth. The contact, though seemingly innocent, felt charged in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Each stroke of her hands seemed to linger a little longer than necessary, making her heart race faster.

Over the past three months of living together, they had certainly grown closer—comfortable in silence, used to the proximity that came with their shared space. They had both (mostly accidentally) seen each other in far less clothing than most people ever would, but this felt weirdly intimate.

She was acutely aware of every detail—the firmness of his muscles under her touch and the slight shivers that occasionally ran through him, almost imperceptible but not enough to escape her notice. The subtle reactions in his body only seemed to amplify her own nervousness, making her hands feel a little too warm and unsteady. She was just glad Sasuke couldn’t see her face from where he sat, because she could feel her cheeks burning as her heart pounded in her chest

Finishing the task, Sakura stepped back, exhaling a shaky breath as she tried to collect herself. She gave a quick glance at Sasuke, not quite meeting his gaze as she tried to mask the flustered emotions she was certain were evident on her face.

“There, you’re covered,” she said, tapping Sasuke lightly on his shoulder, her voice a bit more breathless than she intended. She hoped she sounded more composed than she actually felt, but the lingering tension in the air made it difficult to focus on anything other than the way her heart raced.

Fortunate for Sasuke, his roommate was too distracted with her own thoughts to notice how his whole body tensed up from her touch. The light, casual pat sent an unexpected jolt through him, and he clenched his jaw, fighting to keep his reaction hidden.

This is unfair, Sasuke thought, frustration brewing

He had planned to offer to help, to reciprocate the act in an attempt to regain some sense of control over the situation and draw her attention back to him. He had rehearsed the words in his mind, but before he could even turn around, he found that Sakura had already taken off after Naruto, eager to get rid of this charged, nervous energy within her.

The blonde, up until a few seconds ago, had been patiently standing in line to rent a ring floaty. But now he was charging toward the ocean, unprotected and oblivious to the consequences of his sun-baked skin, according to Sakura.

“Come back here! I told you to put on sunscreen!” Sakura shouted, her voice filled with a mixture of exasperation and concern. 

Lurching, Sakura tackled Naruto into the soft sand, squirting lotion into his reluctant palms and forcing him to apply sunscreen on himself. Sasuke observed from a distance, his gaze flicking to Sakura as she moved behind Naruto, helping him reach the harder-to-get spots on his back.

Sasuke couldn’t help but scowl when he noticed Sakura’s hand hesitate slightly, similar to how it had when she was rubbing lotion on his back moments ago. The brief, subtle pause in her movements caused a pang of frustration and disappointment to surge through him, unbidden and unwelcome.

“You pervert,” Sasuke muttered to himself under his breath, annoyed at his own reaction.

While he remained out of earshot, the sound of the two childhood friends’ voices muffled by the distance between them, the scene unfolding in front of Sasuke was unmistakable. Sakura, with a resigned sigh, handed Naruto the bottle of sunscreen, and in a move that felt all too familiar, she allowed him to step behind her.

Sasuke clenched his jaw and crossed his arms tighter, his gaze narrowing on them. This is really unfair.

His earlier attempts to get her attention and offer help felt like they had been brushed aside by Naruto’s sheer presence. Every time Naruto acted up or needed something, Sakura was there, quick to respond, quick to take care of him. And here she was again, allowing Naruto to return the favor, tending to her with that same, effortless closeness. 

He could have been the one to help her if Naruto hadn’t ruined everything. 

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sitting in front of Naruto, Sakura didn’t have the time to gather her thoughts before another train of them barreled through her mind, intrusive and unexpected.

She was struggling to reconcile the idea of Naruto as a man, especially since she had long viewed him as her scrawny little brother, the mischievous boy who always seemed to be one step behind in everything except trouble. In junior high, he had been noticeably shorter than her, but now the boy who used to look up at her was now almost an entire head taller. She barely reached his nose.

Sakura couldn’t help but feel a pang of disbelief when she looked at him sometimes. She was well aware that she couldn’t underestimate him, not anymore.

Their reunion, for instance, had been a moment of realization for her. Naruto had effortlessly held her up against him without breaking a sweat. It was a feat that, just a few years ago, would have been impossible for him. She was sure her strength wouldn’t measure up to Naruto’s if he decided to get serious.

The realization that Naruto had become more than she had ever imagined made something shift inside her. She found herself questioning what it meant for their relationship and whether she had truly been ready for this shift in their dynamic. As embarrassing as it was to admit, she hadn’t expected to start noticing things about him that made her heart do funny little dances. The warmth of his proximity, the deep, steady rhythm of his breathing, the feeling of his presence enveloping her—it was all so much more than she had bargained for.

Now, his large hand was tracing each ridge of her spine down to the dip of her lower back, his touch gentle as he caressed the curve from her slender neck to her smooth shoulder. Then, as if the universe had decided to remind her of the delicate balance between them, one of his fingers accidentally hooked under the string of her bikini, snapping it with an audible flick.

Her body stiffened instinctively, and she flinched, her face flushing. “Naruto!” she chastised, but even as the words escaped her lips, she didn’t pull away.

“Sorry!” Naruto laughed nervously, his voice shaky. A blush crept up his neck, staining his cheeks as his hand quickly retracted. He hadn’t meant to be so clumsy.

It had always been hard for Naruto to see Sakura the way she saw him. The moment he laid eyes on her in that bikini, it all became so much more complicated, and he had tried to keep his distance until she ran after him. His heart skipped in a way he wasn’t ready for—the way she carried herself, the curves of her body now more defined, the confidence she exuded. She had always been pretty, but over the past four years, she had transformed into someone far more breathtaking. 

And it wasn’t just the transformation that unsettled him—it was the way others now looked at her. The men around them, their eyes lingering too long, their gazes sliding over her like she was something to be admired and claimed. But it was that Sasuke, the guy she lived with, who seemed to get under his skin the most. The idea of Sasuke being so close to her, living in her space, made Naruto’s blood boil in a way he couldn’t quite control.

Sakura used to be one of his only friends, someone he had always felt fiercely protective of. But now, in the face of her roommate, it felt more personal. He couldn’t know what went on between them behind closed doors, and part of him didn’t want to learn the details. 

The more he observed, the clearer it became that the person Sakura always went to, the one she confided in, was no longer him. The growing closeness between his childhood friend and this untrustworthy boy made him feel as though he was being left behind, pushed to the edges of her world, and he wasn’t sure how to communicate that thought to her.

As he finished up the task, Naruto glanced over to find Sakura lost in thought, her eyes distant. 

The change in her appearance was so striking, so sudden that Naruto wasn’t sure she was the same Sakura he had once known anymore. The thought made his heart sink, a deep, unfamiliar ache spreading through his chest. There was something about her now that left him uncertain, as if the connection they once shared was shifting, and he couldn’t quite keep up with it. 

Unable to resist the impulsive urge, Naruto seized the opportunity before him and literally swept Sakura off her feet, holding her against him. The suddenness of the action was almost instinctual, driven by a mix of emotions he wasn’t ready to confront.

Sakura shrieked in alarm, the sound high-pitched and full of surprise as her arms instinctively wrapped around Naruto’s neck for support, her body stiffening in his grip. “Naruto! Put me down! What the hell are you doing?” Her voice was a mix of disbelief and annoyance, the warmth of her breath brushing against his skin as she struggled to gain some semblance of control.

Instead of answering her, a mischievous grin spread across Naruto’s face. He carried her effortlessly as he took long strides toward the crashing waves. The salty sea breeze whipped past them, making Sakura’s hair fly wildly.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Sakura snapped, her voice a mix of irritation and anxiety. She could feel the cool, damp air against her exposed skin, the sensation of the ground slipping away beneath her feet as he moved closer to the ocean.

Naruto paused, having the decency to wait just long enough for Sakura to finish her sentence before, with a laugh full of reckless abandon, he tossed her unceremoniously into the water. The cold shock of the ocean hit her instantly, sending a violent jolt of icy shock through her body

With a splash, Sakura disappeared beneath the surface, momentarily swallowed by the ocean’s vastness. But the water level wasn’t very high, and she quickly resurfaced with a desperate gasp. Water dripped from her hair, cascading down her face and shoulders in the aftermath of the unexpected plunge.

Naruto waded toward her, his laughter bubbling out uncontrollably, rich with the sound of carefree mischief. She glared up at him, her face flushed with a mix of annoyance and the lingering shock of the cold, her eyes flashing with fiery indignation.

This felt more familiar , Naruto thought as he watched Sakura fumed at him, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing in that familiar way he remembered so well. She may look a bit different now—her beauty undeniable, her presence more commanding—but Naruto still wanted to believe that she was still the same stubborn, fiery childhood friend he had known all these years. The sharp edge of her determination, the way she never let him off the hook, was still there. Nothing had changed between them, and he intended to keep it that way.

“You are so dead, Naruto!” Sakura shouted, her voice full of mock fury. Before he could react, she lunged at him, tackling him with surprising force. Sakura quickly scrambled onto his back, attempting to shove his head under water in retaliation.

Instead of resisting Sakura’s push and trying to resurface, Naruto dove downward, his body pulling hers along with him into the cool, inviting depths of the ocean. The water rushed over them, its salty tang flooding Sakura’s senses as they descended together, leaving the warmth of the sun and the beach behind. Sakura let out a surprised laugh, her breath escaping in bubbly spurts as they submerged fully.

Sakura resurfaced quickly, gasping for air as she scanned the water around her, searching for Naruto’s familiar blonde head. They had drifted further from the shore during their playful tussle, and now the water was deep enough that she had to stand on her tiptoes just to keep her chin above the surface. She could feel the soft pull of the current beneath her feet, tugging her away from the shore with a steady, almost teasing force.

Spotting Naruto still submerged underwater, swimming toward her with surprising speed, Sakura couldn’t react fast enough when he suddenly lifted her out of the water on his shoulders. She shrieked again, caught between surprise and laughter. Instinctively, she threw her arms around Naruto’s head to regain balance. Naruto steadied her further by firmly gripping her thighs with both hands.

“Naruto, you idiot!” She huffed, a mix of amusement and embarrassment in her voice.

Underneath her, Naruto attempted to shake the salty water from his eyes, his head shaking comically as he resembled a drenched dog trying to rid itself of excess water. The motion sent droplets flying in all directions, but it did little to help his stinging eyes. Still half-blind from the saltwater, he groaned in frustration and instinctively brought his face closer to his right hand, searching for any relief. In doing so, his cheek inadvertently brushed against Sakura’s thigh.

“Hey!” Sakura exclaimed in panic, her voice an octave higher than usual as a flush of pink spread across her cheeks. Embarrassment surged through her; she reflexively grabbed Naruto’s head, yanking it away from her inner thigh to restore some semblance of personal space.

“Hold still,” she said, leaning down slightly. Her fingers moved gently to his face, brushing away the water clinging to his lashes.

“Oh, thanks, Sakura-chan!” Naruto said sheepishly, blinking rapidly as his vision finally cleared. He gave her an innocent grin, the picture of gratitude—if not for the unmistakable mischief gleaming in his eyes.

“Can you put me down now?” Sakura asked, her tone flat and unimpressed, though the water dripping from her bangs and the pink tinge on her cheeks betrayed her lingering embarrassment.

“But you always tell me you want to be tall,” Naruto teased, his grin widening as he tilted his head back to look up at her. His playful tone made it clear he wasn’t about to take her demand seriously anytime soon.

That remark earned him another playful slap on the side of his head. “I’m not going to repeat myself!”

“Are you sure you want to take that tone with me?” Naruto countered, his grin widening.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sakura shot back, folding her arms across her chest in a defiant gesture. 

Naruto’s grin turned downright wicked. “Because I can do this,” he declared, a twinkle in his eye as he suddenly bent his knees.

Before Sakura could fully register what was happening, Naruto sprang upward with all his strength, launching her clean off his shoulders. Sakura barely had time to shriek his name before she was sent tumbling into the ocean. She hit the water with an audible splash, the cool waves rushing over her once again as she flailed to regain her balance.

Naruto stood with hands on his hips, laughing so hard his shoulders shook.

When Sakura’s head broke the surface for the last time, Naruto was greeted by the unmistakable sound of her voice, spewing a familiar string of curses and creative threats.

“That’s enough,” a voice interjected suddenly, startling both Naruto and Sakura. Neither had noticed Sasuke entering the ocean, let alone approaching them. “You’re being too rough, idiot,” he added, his tone laced with a tinge of irritation.

Promptly, Sasuke tossed Sakura the ring floaty Naruto had abandoned on the shore earlier. It landed with a splash beside her, and she quickly swung her body over it, sighing in relief as its buoyancy held her above the restless waves. She clung to its edges, her legs dangling in the water. The cool ocean felt good against her skin, but the exhaustion in her limbs reminded her that she wasn’t as unshakable as she used to be. Both physically and mentally, she was growing tired of being tossed around.

“That’s just how we’ve always played at the beach!” Naruto shot back defensively, crossing his arms. “What would a stranger like you know?” His blue eyes glinted with stubbornness as he glared at Sasuke.

“Read the room, idiot,” Sasuke countered, his voice calm but cutting as his dark eyes narrowed in quiet disdain.

Naruto threw his arms out dramatically, water droplets flying from his fingertips as he scoffed. “We’re outside!” He retorted, his voice rising in exasperation, as though that single fact rendered Sasuke’s statement completely invalid.

While Naruto and Sasuke continued to argue, Sakura took advantage of the distraction to adjust her bikini top. Naruto wasn’t wrong—they had wrestled and tackled each other in the ocean countless times when they were younger. But if she had known she would be engaging in Naruto’s chaotic antics today, she would have skipped the newly purchased bikini altogether. Her trusty one-piece swimsuit, though far less cute, would’ve saved her from the awkwardness of adjusting straps and worrying about wandering eyes.

Beside her, the argument had escalated into a full-blown competition of holding breath and swimming prowess. Sakura rested her chin on the edge of the floaty, watching the display with an unimpressed expression as the boys engaged in what seemed like a needless display of bravado. Water lapped gently around her, the rhythmic motion soothing, though it did little to distract her from the sheer absurdity of the situation.

With each passing moment, Sakura’s boredom grew, accompanied by a small pang of hunger that made her stomach gurgle softly in protest. The salty air only reminded her of snacks waiting back on the shore. Deciding she’d had enough of their antics, she straightened up on the floaty and called out, “Hey, I’m going back first to get something to eat.”

She expected little more than a dismissive wave or a vague grunt of acknowledgment. Instead, both boys froze mid-sentence, his head snapping toward her with wide, competitive eyes. Before Sakura could even process the shift in tone, the boys locked eyes. What had begun as a simple announcement on her part had somehow morphed into an unspoken challenge, the boys now racing to see who could reach the shore first. 

Sakura didn’t even attempt to kick herself back into shore, letting the wave do the heavy lifting as her body remained comfortably propped up on the ring floaty. Sakura closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the peacefulness of it all. The waves made by Naruto and Sasuke’s frantic swimming only served to slow her drift back to shore, but it didn’t bother.

She was in no rush to get involved in their silly race, though part of her still felt a little left behind as she watched the two of them push toward the shore with full force. With a small sigh, she tilted her head back and gazed at the clear sky above her, watching a seagull circle lazily overhead.

Her peaceful moment was soon interrupted by a familiar, eager voice. “Sakura-chan, it was me, right? I touched the sand first, right?” Naruto’s voice rang out, nearly drowning out the sound of the waves crashing around her.

Before Naruto could answer, Sasuke’s voice broke in, dry and matter-of-fact. “You’re blinded by childhood sentiment if you think I didn’t win,” Sasuke retorted, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Sakura rolled her eyes as she waded through the shallow water, her feet sinking slightly into the soft sand beneath. She didn’t even make it to the shore before she was bombarded by questions she didn’t care to answer. In fact, she’d been drifting so far behind on her floaty, perfectly content in her little bubble of calm, that she hadn’t even seen the race.

“I declare the winner…” Sakura paused, letting the anticipation build before she finally let her smirk slip into place. “None of you,” she declared as she took a few more steps, her feet now firmly planted on the sand. “Because you both are idiots.”

Sakura could see the looks of frustration and confusion flicker across their faces, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly at the situation.

“Can we just go get something to eat now?” She added. The hunger that had been gnawing at her for what felt like ages now hit her full force.

Sakura thought asking them to get food would be a harmless request, a way to halt their ridiculous competition for the time being. But she couldn’t be more wrong. Almost immediately, both boys sprang into action. They dashed off in a blur of motion, eager to reach the food stands and be the first to find the shortest line. 

Sakura stood there for a moment, watching them go, a sigh escaping her lips. The rush of their competitive energy felt exhausting just to witness. She shook her head in disbelief, realizing how futile her attempt had been to end their antics.

Resigned to her fate, Sakura decided it was probably best not to fight the chaos. Instead, she took charge of something she could control: the beverages. With every food booth packed with people—the inevitable crush of summer break at the beach—Sakura opted for the vending machine. She climbed the steps, bought two sports drinks and a juice, before she descended and found a shady spot on the steps. There, she sat down, sipping her refreshing drink. Carefully, she undid her braid, letting her damp hair fall in loose waves around her shoulders.

The salty residue drying on her skin helped keep the heat at bay as she observed Naruto and Sasuke in the distance, shaking fists and exchanging vulgar gestures at each other in line. Somehow, the most static competition between them was the most entertaining one to watch. Despite their bickering, Sakura couldn’t help but smile at their dynamic—it was moments like this that made her appreciate the strange bond they’d formed.

She leaned back against the cool steps, enjoying the moment of peace amidst the bustling beach atmosphere. Mentally, Sakura was busy commenting on the boys’ competition when two figures suddenly appeared in her peripheral vision, blocking out the sun.

“What’s a beautiful lady like you sitting here all alone?” One of the men asked, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. Sakura could hear the underlying arrogance, and she stiffened slightly.

The second man, his voice dripping with a casual smirk, added, “You waiting on your friends?”

Sakura glanced up at the two strangers, her eyes scanning them coolly. They weren’t the type of men who came to the beach for a dip in the ocean—no, they were the kind who strutted around in perfectly styled hair, sunglasses, and outfits that seemed more suited for impressing others than for enjoying the sun and water. Their attention wasn’t on the ocean or the sand—it was on girls like her. And while part of her was flattered, she was certain she wasn’t interested in anything they had to offer.

“Sorry, I have a boyfriend,” Sakura said, offering a polite smile, though it felt a little strained as she gestured vaguely in the direction she thought Naruto and Sasuke might be. She glanced around, but the once-clear view of the beach was now obscured by the crowd of people making their way toward the beach houses for lunch and refreshments. It was suddenly harder to locate the boys, and she felt the moment slip further from her control.

“Oh? I don’t mind if you have a boyfriend,” the first man said with a mocking laugh. “I’m actually quite good at sharing.”

Sakura’s stomach turned slightly at the way he said it, his words leaving an uncomfortable, slimy feeling that lingered longer than she wanted. She could feel his gaze on her, and though she tried to ignore it, a sharp tension prickled down her spine.

The second man’s tone shifted, becoming more insistent. “Is he a good boyfriend if he leaves you here like this?” His eyes scanned her, his words laced with judgment. “You should come hang with us instead of waiting on that loser.”

Sakura’s grip on her bottle tightened, her fingers digging into the plastic as she struggled to rein in her rising anger. The heat didn’t help, and she had come here to escape the crowd, not to be suffocated by these two men and their unwanted advances. The urge to deck them in their stupid, pretty-boy faces was strong, but she had already broken her self-imposed “no-violence” vow on the train ride here, and she had been on such a good streak (if she didn’t count trying to drown Naruto earlier, but that was justified).

Don’t make a scene, she reminded herself.

She decided to ignore them, to just pull away and give them nothing. Without a word, she scooted farther along the steps, hoping they would take the hint and leave her alone. But instead, the two men saw her movement as an invitation, and to her growing frustration, they both slid closer. 

“Oh, come on, are you really going to play hard to get?” One of them purred, his voice thick with false charm that only made her skin crawl. “Loosen up a bit!” He chuckled like it was a joke, but Sakura could feel the condescension in every word.

The other leaned in further, his breath too close for comfort, almost smelling of cheap cologne and alcohol. “We know a really good place where all three of us can get to know each other a whole lot better.” His words oozed with a predatory tone, his eyes never leaving her.

Sakura’s patience was rapidly wearing thin. Every muscle in her body was on high alert, her stomach tight with anger. She clenched her jaw so hard she thought her teeth might crack. 

Just stand up and walk away, she told herself. But before she could make a move, she felt one of the men’s hands land on her knee, fingers digging into her skin with an unmistakable intent.

“Leave me alone!” She snapped, grabbing the hand stroking her in a vice grip. Her fingers tightening around his hand with strength she didn’t even know she had. The man howled in pain, his face contorting in shock.

“What the fuck, bitch?! Let go!” He yelled, his voice willed with pain and anger.

She released his hand, thinking that should be enough to scare him off, her heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and frustration. However, he didn’t retreat. Instead, he rubbed his painful hand with a sneer, his face darkening as he glared at her. “I don’t hit girls, but you’re a damn gorilla!” He spat.

Sakura’s pulse quickened as he stepped closer, the weight of his threat hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. Her stance shifted automatically, ready to defend herself. 

The man pulled his arm back, his muscles tensing as he wound up his fist. But just as the force of his punch seemed inevitable, something stopped it mid-air.

Sakura blinked in surprise, her eyes flicking upwards. There, in the space between them, was Sasuke—his hand gripping the man’s raised fist with an unnerving calm. His fingers tightened around the man’s knuckles, forcing him to lower his arm without a word.

“You have three seconds to leave.” Sasuke’s voice was low, laced with icy menace, and it cut through the tension like a blade, clean and unforgiving. The words hung in the air, their sharpness making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. There was no playfulness, no room for argument in his tone—just a chilling finality that seemed to freeze the very air around them.

The coolness of his voice, the quiet authority in it, was something Sakura had never truly heard from him before. It was a coldness she hadn’t known he possessed—a side of Sasuke that, for the briefest of moments, made her stomach twist in apprehension.

The second man hesitated, his eyes darting between Sasuke’s unwavering gaze and the scene around them. But before he could make a move, Naruto appeared, quick as a flash. He swiftly tripped the man, sending him sprawling to the ground with a sharp grunt of surprise.

“Yeah, ‘gorilla-chan’ made herself pretty clear!” Naruto’s voice rang out, his mischievous grin wide and confident as he stood over the fallen man.

“Hey!” Sakura snapped, stomping her foot in irritation, but Naruto only grinned wider, enjoying the moment far too much.

The men scrambled to their feet, eyes wild with confusion and a touch of fear. Their earlier bravado quickly dissolved, and they exchanged tense, wary glances, realizing they were facing more than they had bargained for. Although muscular in their own right, they decided it wasn’t worth it to go up against two equally well-built boys and an unexpectedly strong girl.

Sakura let out a quiet sigh of relief, her body still trembling from the rush of adrenaline. Her heart, thudding hard in her chest, began to slow, but lingering unease settled in her stomach. As the men stormed off, her eyes drifted to the onlookers around her. They now stood frozen, staring—some out of curiosity, others with open judgment. Sakura felt her cheeks flush, heat creeping across her face as their gazes prickled her skin like invisible needles. Although she had escaped the uncomfortable situation, the stares made her want to shrink away, wishing the ground would swallow her up.

The only one who actually enjoyed the attention was Naruto, because out of nowhere, he pointed to himself and loudly announced, “I’m her boyfriend and she’s off limits!”

“Kami, shut the fuck up, Naruto!” Sakura reprimanded. She yanked on his arm roughly, pulling him up the stairs before he could let out another word. Her other hand instinctively shot up to cover her face, shielding her from the world as if hiding her flustered expression could somehow make it go away. Behind them, Sasuke trailed quietly, scowling.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

A few minutes later, Sakura stepped out of the changing room, smoothing the fabric of her sundress as it fluttered lightly in the breeze. She scanned her surroundings, looking for her friends, when her eyes immediately landed on Sasuke standing nearby. 

Two girls in swimsuits were standing next to him, their laughter ringing softly in the air. Both were undeniably pretty, their flawless skin glowing under the sunlight and their toned figures accentuated by their swimwear. They leaned in as they spoke, their postures open and inviting, clearly vying for his attention.

An uncomfortable pit immediately settled in Sakura’s stomach at the sight. She knew Sasuke was popular—his quiet confidence and good looks made him a magnet for attention. On campus, girls were always finding excuses to talk to him, and while he rarely encouraged them, it didn’t make it any easier for her to witness moments like this. 

Perhaps that was why she always seized the chance to covertly greet him on campus. It was childish, even a little annoying; she knew that, but she couldn’t shake the desire to draw his attention back to her—to remind him that she was still there in the periphery of his life. No, perhaps it was about reminding herself that she was still a part of his life despite having to act like strangers in public. Each time he acknowledged her—no matter how casually—it was like a small reassurance, a thread that tied them together, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Now, just as her chest tightened with the familiar sting of doubt, Sasuke’s dark eyes flicked toward her. That was all it took to make her heart skip a beat. His expression shifted ever so slightly, and he straightened, subtly distancing himself from the two girls. Without so much as a word to them, he walked toward Sakura.

The two girls faltered, their smiles dimming as they glanced between him and Sakura. After a few seconds, they exchanged quiet murmurs, their disappointment evident in the way their shoulders slumped.

As Sasuke approached her, Sakura’s first instinct was to ask him what he had been talking about with the two girls, but as her eyes flicked toward where they had stood moments before, she realized they were gone.

“Sorry, Sasuke-kun, did you wait long?” Sakura asked, her voice steady, though she couldn’t quite mask the faint disappointment that lingered from the sight of him with the two girls.

Sasuke’s dark eyes studied her for a moment, his gaze intense but unreadable. “Are you okay?” He asked. The straightforwardness of his question caught Sakura off guard and it took her a brief, disorienting moment to realize he was probably talking about the incident earlier with the two insistent men.

“Yeah,” she replied, though she forced the words out with more conviction than she felt. Despite her confidence in her ability to handle herself with those men, the memory left a trace of fear curling in her chest.

Sasuke’s gaze didn’t waver. His face remained calm, but she could see the slight furrow in his brow, the way his eyes narrowed just enough to betray his doubt. He didn’t believe her, but he chose not to press further.

Sakura glanced around, hoping to spot Naruto and distract herself from the awkward tension, but Sasuke’s next word stopped her in her tracks.

“Sorry.”

Her eyes snapped back to him, wide with surprise at the unexpected apology.

She tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze. “It wasn’t your fault, Sasuke-kun,” she said. “I should be thanking you.”

Her voice was soft, reassuring, and though her words were true—technically, he wasn’t at fault—Sasuke couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling of responsibility. It was all because he’d been so caught up in his silent rivalry with Naruto. His focus had shifted entirely, and in that moment, he’d forgotten about her. But more than that, he regretted looking control of his temper, regretted letting her see that side of him—the cold, threatening edge that he never wanted her to witness, the side that reminded him how dangerous he could be when provoked, how quickly he could shift into someone he barely recognized. Even if he had decided to keep her in the dark, he would never want her to be scared of him.

“I shouldn’t have left you like that. I promise I’ll be better,” he said, his voice laced with quiet resolve. 

The sincerity in his words struck Sakura unexpectedly. Her chest tightened, and she felt a sudden warmth rising to her cheeks. There was something about the way he said it—earnest, almost vulnerable—that left her feeling flustered. It reminded her of how someone might act when owning up to a mistake in a relationship, like the characters in those romantic movies and novels she often buried herself in, like the idea her silly mind often indulged in. Are they…?

“Sakura.”

His voice snapped her out of her daze, and she flinched, her mind struggling to catch up. She hadn’t even realized she had gone momentarily speechless, lost in her own thoughts. Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red in embarrassment, and she quickly glanced away, trying to hide the rush of emotion.

“It’s nothing! I was just being ridiculous,” she stammered, trying to brush off the strange fluttering in her chest. But as Sasuke subtly leaned in, his gaze intent and curious, as if wanting to ask what was wrong, Sakura felt a sudden pressure to explain herself before he could pull it out of her. The warmth in her cheeks only intensified as she blurted out, “I just thought you sounded like... a boyfriend just now.”

Sasuke’s eyes widened ever so slightly, the subtle shift barely perceptible but enough for Sakura to notice. In the depths of his dark irises, there was a flicker of surprise and recognition, as if her words had struck a chord he hadn’t expected. And then there was something else—something unspoken, raw, and vulnerable, like a fragile thread waiting to be pulled.

Despite her uncertainty about where this was leading, Sakura couldn’t stop the rush of anticipation building in her chest. Her heart pounded wildly, each beat loud and insistent as if urging her to hang on to this moment.

Sasuke hesitated, his lips parting slightly as though weighing his next words carefully. Sakura held her breath, her eyes fixed on him, as if she could will him to say something—anything—that would make sense of the emotions swirling between them.

When he finally opened his mouth to speak, her pulse quickened, every fiber of her being bracing for whatever he was about to say.

“Would you want—”

“There you are!” Naruto called out, cutting through the moment like a bolt of lightning as he jogged up to them. “What are we still doing here? I thought we were leaving!”

Sakura blinked, startled out of the moment, as she turned to Naruto, her thoughts still lingering on the tension that had just passed between her and Sasuke. She quickly glanced at him, hoping for some sign—anything—that their conversation might continue, but Sasuke was already looking away. His expression was as unreadable as ever, and his posture had shifted, hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze distant. He seemed entirely focused on something far off, as if the conversation they had just shared hadn’t even happened.

The sight of him pulling away so effortlessly left a strange emptiness in her chest, a sharp contrast to the warmth she’d felt just moments before. Reiging in her disappointment, Sakura decided to let it go as well, even though a small, persistent ache still settled in her chest.

“Sorry,” she said, forcing a smile and turning toward Naruto. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

As they walked away from the beach, the afternoon sun beat down on them, casting harsh shadows across the sandy path. 

Despite the tension from the earlier incident down at the beach, the air around them gradually lightened as they neared the station. The bustle of the streets grew louder as they walked, but a part of Sakura felt herself begin to breathe a little easier with each step, the unease that had gripped her starting to fade. They found a shaded spot along the way, tucked under a small canopy that provided a welcome relief from the afternoon heat. The coolness of the shade wrapped around her like a soft exhale, and Sakura allowed herself a moment to relax as they decided to eat the food they had waited for earlier at the beach. 

They settled onto a bench, the faint creak of the wooden slats under their weight. The scent of grilled takoyaki—rich, savory, with a slight smokiness in the air—tickled her nose, making her stomach rumble with hunger.

Sakura let out a sigh. “I guess today could have been worse,” Sakura commented, her tone dry, though a hint of amusement flickered in her eyes as she blew gently on a piece of takoyaki before bringing it to her lips. The crisp outer coating of the takoyaki gave way to the warm, tender filling, and she savored the bite.

“Sorry we left you alone, Sakura-chan,” Naruto mumbled between loud, sloppy bites of yakisoba, the noodles hanging from his mouth in a messy tangle. His voice was muffled by food, but there was an unmistakable sincerity in the way he looked at her; the usual boisterous energy softened for once.

“Swallow your food, then talk, Naruto,” Sakura muttered, her brows furrowing as she tried to ignore the way his sloppy chewing made her stomach churn.

Sasuke let out a forceful exhale, his expression barely changing as he chewed his own yakisoba. 

“Those guys couldn’t take a hint if it slapped them in the face,” Naruto remarked, still between chews.

“Oh, I should have slapped them in their stupid mugs,” Sakura said, her voice rising slightly as a flash of regret sparked across her features. But then she shook her head, exhaling sharply to dispel the lingering frustration. As her gaze shifted to Naruto, her expression softened, her voice losing its edge. Despite the years that had passed, despite the distance that had grown between them, her childhood friend remained so dependable, so Naruto.

“Thanks for being there, Naruto,” she said, her tone laced with warmth and gratitude.

Without thinking, she reached out and hooked her arm through his, drawing him closer. Naruto’s cheeks flushed subbtly, and he grinned shyly, the usual boundless energy in his demeanor tempered by a quiet sincerity. With his free hand, he gave her arm a gentle squeeze, his fingers warm and firm. There was something so familiar, so safe in the gesture, as if no time had passed at all.

Glancing to her other side, Sakura hesitated. Her confidence wavered as her gaze flickered toward Sasuke, the awkwardness of their earlier conversation still fresh in her mind. She debated whether she should say anything at all, but her hand moved tentatively toward him before she could second-guess herself. Her fingers lightly brushed his arm, and she felt a flutter of nerves rise in her chest.

To her relief, Sasuke shifted slightly, his hand moving to tap hers once. The touch was brief, light but deliberate—a silent acknowledgment. His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and there was something unspoken there, like a promise. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked away, trying to calm the sudden rush of emotion that left her chest feeling tight.

Chapter Text

Naruto and Sakura had spent every one of their special occasions together for as long as they could remember. It was an unspoken tradition, a constant in their ever-changing lives. But for Naruto’s birthday this year, their increasingly hectic schedules clashed so often that finding time to celebrate felt like trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. No matter how hard they tried, something always seemed to get in the way. Nearly three weeks of constant rescheduling and countless exchanged messages later, they finally managed to synchronize their plans to hang out on Halloween night. 

Back in their hometown, Halloween wasn’t exactly celebrated because it wasn’t a traditional holiday. But Naruto and Sakura had always wanted to experience Halloween in Tokyo. Given that it was also Naruto’s birthday, however, Sakura didn’t want them to just wander around Shibuya in their costumes like everyone else. 

Determined to make it special, Sakura spent hours poring over online event listings, her fingers scrolling through endless possibilities until one, in particular, caught her eye—a Halloween-themed night at the theme park. It was perfect. 

The place boasted exhilarating rides she knew Naruto would love, and the park’s elaborate decorations promised the perfect backdrop for their photos. Last year’s promotional images showed staff and guests alike dressed in impressively eerie costumes—perhaps a little too eerie for her liking—but this wasn’t about her. This was about making Naruto’s birthday unforgettable.

The price for both of their tickets made her wince, but she didn’t hesitate. Every yen was worth it if it meant seeing that wide, sun-bright grin on his face. And besides—she wouldn’t be alone in the horror.

Despite her packed schedule, Sakura had meticulously crafted her witch costume from cheap fabrics she had scavenged at the local dollar store, each stitch sewn with care. Meanwhile, after receiving his ticket from Sakura, Naruto—just as enthusiastic about the holiday—had eagerly scoured store after store in search of the perfect costume, determined to match her excitement. He could already picture the two of them posing for countless photos, capturing every laugh and ridiculous moment to make up for all the time they’d missed together.

Eventually, he managed to snag a werewolf ensemble on sale. The costume itself was a bit rough around the edges—some of the faux fur patches were uneven, and the claws looked more comical than menacing—but Naruto’s excitement overshadowed any imperfections.

The city buzzed with excitement on Halloween, the streets alive with a sea of costumed figures. Sakura barely managed to squeeze into the packed train, jostled from all sides with fellow passengers, dressed as everything from comical mascots that made her giggle to horrifying ghouls that made her skin crawl. Twisted masks, hollowed-out eyes, grotesque makeup—some people took the spooky theme way too seriously. By the time she arrived at the park, she was breathless, barely on time.

Naruto, however, was nowhere to be found at the gate.

Sakura let out a sharp sigh, already knowing the answer before the question even formed in her mind. When has her childhood friend ever been on time? She fished her phone out of her pocket, her fingers swiping at the screen to check the time—

“GRARR!”

Sakura yelped, pure instinct kicking in as she spun around, swinging her arm wildly at the threat. The figure barely dodged in time, hopping back with a cackle.

“Damn it, Naruto!” She snapped, pressing a hand to her racing heart as if that would somehow steady its frantic rhythm. Her breath came out uneven, the initial terror giving way to seething irritation. The lingering tension from being packed in with costumed monsters on her way over hadn’t helped her nerves—if anything, it had left her on edge, primed for exactly this kind of scare.

Naruto, however, looked far too pleased with himself. Sakura shot him a glare. He knew how much she despised scary things—though, truth be told, he was only slightly better.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Naruto said with a sheepish chuckle, though the wide grin on his face betrayed any real remorse. “But you look great, Sakura-chan!” His voice brimmed with genuine admiration, his blue eyes bright with appreciation.

Sakura, momentarily forgetting her irritation, twirled in her witchy outfit, the fabric flaring elegantly around her. The lace trim shimmered faintly under the glow of the streetlights, and the pointed hat she had carefully adjusted earlier now sat at a charmingly crooked angle.

Sakura beamed at him in return, taking in the sight of his werewolf costume. “And you look...” she trailed off, stifling a laugh as she examined the oversized paws and exaggerated snout. “Ferocious?”

Naruto grinned, flashing his plastic fangs with dramatic flair. “Damn right! Scary, aren’t I?” He boasted, striking what he imagined was an intimidating pose.

A scoff cut through the night air.

Naruto’s grin faltered as he turned toward the unexpected presence beside them, his brows knitting together in confusion.

There, standing with his usual air of detached coolness, was Sasuke. Dressed in his signature black—black pants and a crisp button-up—his brooding aura remained intact. But one glaring addition set him apart tonight: a black and red cape draped over his shoulders.

Naruto should have known. Of course the nuisance would be here today.

He shot a glance at Sakura, as if seeking confirmation of the betrayal. She, however, looked completely unfazed, as if Sasuke’s presence had never been in question. And maybe it hadn’t been—after all, Sasuke had paid for his own ticket the moment Sakura extended the invitation. 

Though their last trip to the beach had reassured Naruto somewhat that his childhood friend hadn’t changed as much as her outward appearance suggested, a seed of doubt still lingered in his mind. And the unexpected appearance of her roommate today only served to water that doubt, making it harder to ignore.

Naruto squinted at the other boy, arms crossing over his chest. “And what are you supposed to be? The devil?” His voice dripped with irritation, as if Sasuke’s mere existence in their plans had already soured his mood.

“He’s a vampire,” Sakura clarified with a chuckle, warmth curling in her chest as she cast a playful glance at Sasuke. The thrill bubbling beneath her skin was impossible to ignore—this was only the second time they were out together in public, and he had actually let her dress him. Her fingers still tingled from earlier when she had adjusted the collar of his dark coat, the fabric smooth beneath her touch. 

“He didn’t like the fake teeth, so we left them at home,” she added, grinning. 

The memory of Sasuke’s deeply unamused scowl at the cheap plastic fangs played in her mind, sending another ripple of laughter through her, though she tried to stifle it. He had looked downright offended when she had handed them to him, muttering something about how ridiculous they were before promptly setting them aside.

Sasuke, ever composed, merely sighed, his crimson-lined gaze flickering toward her with something unreadable—exasperation, perhaps, or maybe something softer she dared not entertain.

So he’s just a dude with a cape? Naruto deadpanned silently. 

As if he could hear Naruto’s internal complaints, Sasuke met his judgmental stare with a cool, disinterested glance, the barest flicker of annoyance in his dark eyes.

Naruto huffed, resisting the urge to roll his own. He couldn’t quite fathom why Sasuke bothered to show up if he was going to look so plain. Here Naruto was, decked out in a full-fledged werewolf costume, practically radiating Halloween spirit, while Sasuke had barely lifted a finger.

Not only that, but he resentted that Sasuke didn’t seem to appreciate the effort Sakura had put into organizing the outing. The least he could do was try to match her enthusiasm. And yet, that, apparently, was more than enough for everyone else.

As they strolled through the Halloween-themed venue, girls kept approaching Sasuke, giggling behind their hands and shyly asking for pictures. Some even blushed as they complimented his “vampire aesthetic,” gushing about his mysterious presence like he had just stepped out of a gothic romance novel.

Before he could stew in his frustration any longer, Sakura suddenly chirped, “You should do it, Sasuke-kun!”

Both boys turned to her with matching perplexed expressions.

“Why?” Sasuke asked, his voice flat, laced with quiet confusion.

Sakura grinned. “Because you look good, why else?” she said, giving him a playful push toward the waiting group of admirers.

Naruto folded his arms tightly across his chest, biting back an exasperated groan. Great. As if the bastard needed any more encouragement.

“Should’ve just worn my damn jacket and called it a night,” he mumbled under his breath.

Sasuke, normally reserved and preferring solitude, hesitated for a moment, his expression flickering with something close to discomfort. His shoulders were stiff, and for a second, Sakura could almost feel the cool distance between them. 

As his roommate, she knew this side of him all too well—his tendency to shy away from social interactions, especially with people outside of his usual circle. He was rarely one for group activities, and even less so for the spontaneous camaraderie that came with occasions like this.

However, being in costume and taking pictures with others was one of the best icebreakers and a great opportunity for Sasuke to socialize and open up to those around him. Besides, she couldn’t help but want to show off how handsome he looked in the outfit she had chosen for him—the sleek black fabric hugging his form just right, the sharp angles of his face perfectly complementing the style. Sakura’s heart fluttered with pride as she observed him.

But despite the friendly atmosphere and the girls’ open admiration, Sasuke remained aloof. His gaze was distant, his posture rigid, and not a single smile cracked his expression. Even as the girls posed for photos, Sasuke didn’t engage, standing motionless like a statue. But the girls weren’t deterred by his indifference. If anything, they found his stoic demeanor almost magnetic. They whispered and giggled among themselves, their eyes flickering with intrigue as they posed beside him, clearly drawn to his quiet intensity. 

But as Sakura watched the girls fawn over her roommate, the memories of the two girls who had approached him on the beach resurfaced involuntarily, and a sharp, uncomfortable twist curled in her chest. Despite being the one who encouraged Sasuke to socialize, Sakura couldn’t help but felt an unexpected rush of emotions—a sense of possessiveness, maybe, or jealousy. It made her feel selfish to admit it, even to herself. 

As Sakura forced herself to focus on something else, her eyes caught sight of Naruto’s barely concealed vexation. Sakura’s gaze softened as she noticed the slight slump of his shoulders. With a deep breath, she banished her lingering self-doubt and pulled gently on Naruto’s arm, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Selfies?” She suggested.

The invitation, simple as it was, worked like a charm. Naruto’s face immediately brightened, his signature grin spreading across his face as the annoyance melting away in an instant. 

Together, they struck exaggerated, ridiculous poses—goofy peace signs, fake growls, and odd faces that made them both burst into laughter while they waited for Sasuke to join them. 

Meanwhile, despite being surrounded by a group of giggling girls, Sasuke looked on at Naruto and Sakura with thinly veiled annoyance, a quiet disapproval hanging in the air.

When Sasuke was finally released from the group of girls, all three of them started toward the first ride. But they barely made it a few steps before Sasuke was, once again, halted by the eager attention of another group of girls. Their excitement was almost tangible as they clamored for photos, their voices rising with excitement as they jostled for a spot beside him.

Naruto and Sakura, now accustomed to this routine, stepped back with a quiet laugh, watching Sasuke’s ever-present reluctance. 

Sakura was about to suggest to Naruto that they take another round of selfies to pass the time when she suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder. 

“Is it okay if we take a photo together?” A voice asked, soft but clear.

Standing in front of her was a boy no older than herself, wearing a simple but endearing wizard costume. His eyes were wide with polite excitement, and the way he asked made it clear he was nervous, unsure if he was interrupting something.

Sakura blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but the question was enough to send a warm rush of excitement and validation flooding through her. The fact that someone finally appreciated her costume made her heart flutter with satisfaction.

Just as Sakura had encouraged Sasuke to engage with others, Naruto gave her a push, urging her to accept the photo request. He knew how much she loved taking photos and had hoped for some recognition of her costume effort. He figured this was a chance for her to feel that little bit of appreciation she deserved if her roommate wasn’t going to give her any.

What Naruto didn’t anticipate was how one person quickly turned into a small crowd, each wanting their own picture. Quickly, Naruto felt his patience wearing thin. A couple of guys, now standing too close, casually put their arms around Sakura’s shoulders, pulling her in for a pose that felt just a little too familiar. Naruto’s eyes narrowed as he watched them. But it wasn’t until one of the guys posed as though he was about to kiss Sakura on the cheek that Naruto’s temper finally snapped. 

“Hey, not even I get to do that yet!” Naruto’s voice rang out, sharp and loud. 

He began stomping over to the group, his gaze locking onto the guy who had gotten too close. But it was Sasuke, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, who intervened. His hand gently but firmly pulled Sakura away from the group of disappointed fans. The shift was so smooth and quick that Naruto didn’t even realize where Sasuke had come from, but he couldn’t deny the relief that washed over him as he saw Sakura being guided out of the situation. 

Sakura, disappointed by the abrupt end to her photo session, glanced up at Sasuke, confusion clouding her features. “Why are we in such a rush?” She asked, her voice tinged with the sting of missed fun. She had loved getting her photo taken, especially after the effort she’d put into dressing up for the occasion.

Naruto cast a glance at Sasuke, who looked like he had something to say but held back, not wanting to ruin the moment. So it was up to him to salvage the situation and lighten the mood.

“I just don’t like their vibe, Sakura-chan,” Naruto said, his tone still trying to sound cheerful, though there was a lingering frustration beneath the surface. “They seem sketchy.”

Beside him, Sasuke offered a curt nod of agreement.

Sakura watched the two boys with curiosity. It was rare to see them in agreement, and she couldn’t help but hope that, with time, they might realize how much they had in common—if only they could look past their egos. It was one of the reasons she had invited Sasuke along in the first place. She wanted them to better understand each other and maybe—just maybe—her two favorite boys would finally find a way to get along.

Truthfully, Sakura couldn’t deny that Naruto and Sasuke were right. The group of guys in question were getting a bit handsy, but it wasn’t as though she couldn’t handle herself if things escalated—she had done so before on the beach, after all. The amusement park was a public space, and there was always the security team nearby, ready to step in if anything went wrong. Still, she could understand why Naruto and Sasuke had reacted the way they did.

She had enjoyed the attention, but as the purpose of this trip was to celebrate Naruto’s birthday, she knew the spotlight should rightfully be on him. So, shaking off the lingering thrill, Sakura shifted gears. 

“I know I already said happy birthday over the phone, but I haven’t congratulated you on officially being recognized as the clan heir, have I?” She nudged his elbow lightly, hoping the familiar touch would ground him and distract him from whatever had been gnawing at him moments before. 

The Uzumaki clan was the biggest, most important clan in their hometown, and Sakura could still remember how excited Naruto had been each year, eagerly counting down the days to his eighteenth birthday. He had always long been ready for this moment, a milestone that held so much meaning for him. Now that it had come, it felt like the perfect moment for Sakura to acknowledge it.

“I’m honestly so proud of you, Naruto!”

The blonde scratched the back of his head, the familiar grin slowly spreading across his face. “Well, I guess I’m also stuck with a lot more... responsibility now,” he admitted, his tone light but with a hint of pride. On the side, Sasuke cast a glance at Naruto, his expression unreadable.

Sakura chuckled. “Any other news I should congratulate you on?” She asked, not expecting much.

But then, with a sudden burst of excitement, Naruto’s eyes lit up. “Oh! I also just got accepted into Keio University recently!”

Sakura stopped on her track, her eyes widened in surprise, and a wave of pride rushed through her chest. “That’s amazing, Naruto! I knew you had it in you!” She exclaimed.

When Naruto left their hometown for Kobe, he intended to obtain a degree before finding a job but eventually dropped out. He had never been considered academically gifted by any means, but Sakura’s support and effort had inspired him to give it another try. 

Embarrassed by the high praise, Naruto’s grin softened into something more humble. Heat crept up his neck, and for once, he found himself at a loss for words. He had spent so much time vying for Sakura’s attention, yet now that he had it—completely, unwaveringly—he suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself.

“What are you going to do about your job at Ichiraku?” Sakura asked, her curiosity piqued.

Naruto sighed thoughtfully. “I think I’ll have to reduce my working hours if I’m going to study seriously,” he admitted, a small frown tugging at his lips. “But I’m worried old man Teuchi will have a hard time running the shop by himself.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow, thinking back to their previous conversations. “Didn’t you mention that you work with his daughter?”

“Yeah, but Ayame-nee has been busy with her new job recently, so she hasn’t been in the shop much,” Naruto said sadly, his expression briefly clouded with disappointment. But before Sakura could offer any advice, Naruto’s face suddenly brightened, his eyes sparkling with an idea.

“Sakura-chan, you should come work with me! It’s going to be so fun!” He exclaimed, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm as he looked at her with a hopeful grin.

Sakura blinked, taken aback by his suggestion. “I don’t know, Naruto,” she replied, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “I already don’t have a lot of time with everything else going on.”

“Old man Teuchi is really nice,” Naruto persisted. “I’m sure your work hours can be very flexible if you want them to be.”

Despite Naruto’s initial childish reasoning, Sakura could see the potential benefits. She had been living off her savings for the past few months, and today’s trip had been a bit of a splurge. The thought of finding a part-time job had always lingered in the back of her mind, but her schoolwork had always taken priority. Still, she knew she would eventually need to get a job to support herself. A job with flexible hours was a dream come true, and the idea of working alongside her best friend made it even more appealing.

“You should come to the shop sometimes, Sakura-chan,” Naruto suggested, his eyes lighting up at the thought of showing her around. “I’ll introduce you to old man Teuchi and Ayame-nee.”

She tilted her head and asked with a curious smile, “Where is Ichiraku again?”

Naruto quickly pulled out his phone, tapping through the apps and pulled up a map to show Sakura. He pointed at the screen, his finger tracing the small street marked in bold. “It’s right about here, just a few minutes from Kabukicho station.”

Sakura nodded, copying down the address into her phone as Naruto spoke, but as she looked up, she noticed Sasuke’s expression. He was frowning disapprovingly at the mention of the station. 

“Why can’t you just work at the nearby convenience store?” He suggested, his voice lacking any enthusiasm.

Naruto shot him a glare, his eyes narrowing at Sasuke’s interruption. It was clear to him that Sasuke’s suggestions were always meant to disrupt his plans with Sakura—first, it was the beach trip, and now he had to be here to ruin his belated birthday as well. Instead of engaging in another argument, however, Naruto chose to ignore Sasuke’s comment and continue explaining the directions to Sakura.

“Take the West exit and turn right about here,” Naruto said, pointing to the map again with a little more urgency, knowing how unfamiliar Sakura was with this part of Tokyo. “Oh, and if anyone approaches you, just ignore them and keep walking, especially if they’re men.”

Sakura looked up from her phone, her brow furrowing with curiosity. “Are they scammers?” She asked, her voice a mix of confusion and concern.

Naruto hesitated for a moment. He scratched his head, trying to figure out how to explain without alarming her too much. He knew he had to be careful with his words. He didn’t want to make Sakura nervous, but it was important that she understood the area’s potential risks.

“Not exactly,” Naruto said, his voice faltering for a moment as he searched for the right words. “Well, not all of them. It’s more about being cautious. Kabukicho can be safe if you know what and who to avoid.”

Unfortunately for Naruto, Sakura was already piecing it together. Her brows knitted together in realization before she shot him a sharp look.

“Wait a minute, are they the yakuzas?” Sakura asked, her voice trembling slightly with a mix of fear and curiosity.

She had heard rumors about the yakuza back in her small hometown, but it was something far removed from her day-to-day life. Now in Tokyo, it felt like the shadow of something she had always feared but never fully understood. Her mother had also done a tremendous job of fear-mongering her about the crime organizations, warning her of their presence and influence in the city.

Naruto and Sasuke flinched subtly at Sakura’s blunt question. They both had separately hoped to avoid the topic altogether, but now that it was out in the open, neither of them could hide the unease that lingered between them.

“Naruto, I don’t think I can come if those people—”

“Those people won’t harm you if they have no reason to,” Sasuke interjected suddenly. “And they generally don’t have any business with normal people like you.”

Sakura blinked, momentarily caught off guard by how quickly Sasuke had spoken up. His tone was firm, as if he knew this from experience

Naruto, equally surprised by Sasuke’s sudden helpfulness, decided to brush it off. Flashing Sakura a grin, he attempted to shift the conversation to a lighter tone. “They’re not like the ones you see in those old-timey movies, Sakura-chan. They’re more like salarymen nowadays,” he said with a wave of his hand, clearly downplaying the situation. “I mean, you should still steer clear of them, but I bet you won’t even see them on the street when we get there.”

Naruto’s words held some truth. The yakuza were indeed present in Kabukicho, but they weren’t always easily recognizable in their stereotypical guise. Many operated discreetly, blending into the bustling urban landscape rather than standing out.

Sakura nodded slowly, trying to take comfort in their reassurances, but she couldn’t fully shake the feeling that Kabukicho was a world she wasn’t quite prepared to navigate. The thought of wandering through the neon-lit streets, unfamiliar and crowded, made her skin prickle with unease.

“Are you sure?” Sakura asked hesitantly, her voice betraying her lingering doubts. As much as she trusted Naruto, she couldn’t shake the images of yakuza from the movies that had colored her childhood perceptions.

Naruto slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close with an easy warmth that smelled of sun and ramen broth. “Sakura-chan, I swear, if any yakuza guy even looks at you funny, I’ll beat them to a pulp!” His voice was bright, laced with playful bravado, but when his gaze flickered—just for a second—to Sasuke, there was something sharper beneath the jest. A warning.

The dark-haired boy simply returned a scowl.

Sakura let out a small, breathy laugh despite the nerves still thrumming beneath her skin. “Thanks, Naruto.”

“Then you’ll come?” Naruto asked eagerly, his grip on her shoulder tightening just a fraction, as if anchoring her to something solid in the midst of her swirling uncertainty.

Sasuke glanced over at Sakura, quietly hoping she would just turn down the request. A part of him—the more rational one—knew it was counterintuitive for him to defend the yakuza earlier, but he really didn’t want to see Sakura so fearful of them. 

I’ll have to check my schedule first,’ Sakura replied, her tone deliberately noncommittal.

Her mind was already drifting from the conversation as they arrived at the first ride. The towering structure of the roller coaster loomed before them, the clanking of the tracks and the distant screams of riders filling the air. In just a few moments, she would be soaring through the sky, the rush of wind drowning out everything else

Beside her, Sasuke exhaled quietly. He knew this was no different from buying time, but he was just relieved that the conversation had finally shifted.

Amusement parks weren’t his thing—least of all roller coasters. The idea of being strapped in, stomach twisting with every sharp drop, held no appeal. He preferred solid ground, where he could observe, rather than be thrown into the chaos.

So he made the logical choice. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he stepped aside, prepared to wait at the exit while they indulged in their thrill-seeking adventure without him

But logic didn’t stand a chance against Naruto’s relentless teasing.

“What’s wrong, bastard? You scared?” Naruto’s grin was pure mischief, his eyes alight with challenge. “I didn’t think you were such a scaredy-cat.”

Sasuke scoffed, rolling his eyes, refusing to take the bait. But before he could shut the conversation down, Sakura turned to him, clasping her hands together in an almost pleading gesture.

“Just one ride since we’re already here?” She coaxed, her voice gentle yet insistent, a hint of worry threading through her tone. She just wanted to make sure that Sasuke had a good time. “It won’t be fun if you don’t try at least one.”

Her gaze was earnest and expectant, and something about the way she looked at him made it impossible to refuse. With a deep sigh, Sasuke resigned himself to his fate and let himself be dragged toward the line.

“Fine.”

Minutes later, he found himself buckled into the seat, gripping the safety bar a little tighter than he cared to admit, as the coaster slowly climbed its first daunting peak.

Ahead of them, Sakura had been paired with a stranger, following the ride attendant’s instructions. Sasuke could just make out the back of her head, her excitement practically radiating off her in waves.

Naruto, on the other hand, was right beside him, practically vibrating with glee.

“Too late to back out now, bastard!” Naruto whooped smugly, unable to contain his laughter.

Sasuke barely had a chance to glare at him before the car reached the peak.

For a brief moment, everything was still—the world stretched wide beneath them, the wind whispering against their skin.

Then, with a stomach-churning lurch, they plummeted.

The wind roared in his ears, the force of the drop pressing him into his seat as his stomach flipped violently. His heart slammed against his ribs, a rapid, uncontrollable rhythm. Before he could even process what had just happened, the ride screeched to a halt, and the lap bar released with a metallic click.

Dazed, Sasuke stepped off the platform, his legs unsteady beneath him. But there was no time to dwell on it, because Naruto and Sakura were already dashing toward the next ride, their laughter trailing in the air like an electric current.

As they stood in line for the next ride, Sakura turned to him, her expression tinged with concern. “Are you okay, Sasuke-kun?” 

Unlike before, she didn’t try to coax him into going on this one. If he really hated rides, she wasn’t going to push.

Naruto, standing beside her with a lazy grin, draped an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe we should let him wait at the exit while we ride this one ourselves, Sakura-chan,” he said, his voice dripping with exaggerated sympathy.

Sasuke’s eyes snapped to Naruto, immediately catching the smug curve of his lips and the silent taunt gleaming in his gaze.

His jaw clenched, and without thinking, he shot back, his voice low and biting. “And missed all the fun?” 

Naruto’s smile faltered, the spark of his usual confidence dimming.

No more words were needed. The stakes had been set—whoever endured the most rides without faltering would claim victory. And Sasuke wasn’t about to lose.

On the side, Sakura couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of déjà vu.

Yet after a few more rides, the competition came to a reluctant pause when reality caught up with them—both boys staggered off a particularly brutal ride, their faces pale, stomachs rebelling against their pride. Without a word, they veered toward the bathroom nearby. 

Sakura, feeling queasy herself, sank onto a bench just outside, pressing a hand to her stomach as she fought to keep her dinner where it belonged. The cool night air did little to settle the nausea twisting inside her. Despite her love for roller coasters, pushing herself to ride as many as possible in one evening had been a mistake. She had wanted to make the most of her money’s worth, determined to squeeze every thrill out of the night—but now, the only thing she felt was regret and a distinct lack of equilibrium.

To make matters worse, the eerie figures drifting through the park weren’t helping her nerves. People in monster costumes—both staff and overenthusiastic parkgoers—lurched and stalked through the dimly lit pathways, their grotesque masks and lumbering movements far too convincing in the flickering glow of the street lamps. She knew, logically, that she was also in costume, just another participant in the night’s festivities. But in the low, shifting light, the cheap fabric and plastic fangs of the others seemed disturbingly real, their hollow eyes following her just a little too closely.

A shiver ran down her spine as she tore her gaze away, forcing herself to take slow, measured breaths. It was just the ambiance—just her overstimulated mind playing tricks on her. And yet, no matter how many times she reminded herself of this, she couldn’t quite get used to it.

As they wandered deeper into the park, Sakura had strategically positioned herself between Naruto and Sasuke, using them as a buffer against the lurking figures that prowled the pathways. She kept her arms close to her body, hyperaware of every flicker of movement in the shadows. Despite her efforts, an occasional glimpse of a grotesque mask from the corner of her eye or a sudden, bloodcurdling shriek from a nearby haunted house sent fresh waves of unease rippling through her.

Earlier, when a towering figure in a particularly menacing monster costume had suddenly loomed in front of her, instincts had taken over before logic could catch up. Without thinking, she had all but dove behind Naruto, gripping the back of his jacket as she braced for the inevitable scare.

If she hadn’t had her eyes squeezed shut in that moment, she would have caught the gleam of amusement in Naruto’s eyes—the way his lips curled into a smug, triumphant grin. And just behind him, Sasuke had merely exhaled in exasperation, his eyes rolling skyward at Naruto’s antics.

To Naruto, Sakura instinctively seeking his protection was a clear sign of trust, a small victory in his eyes. However, Sasuke reasoned that this was clear evidence that Sakura would rather sacrifice Naruto instead of him. Despite that, a small part couldn’t shake a twinge of envy at the closeness between Naruto and Sakura, even in such trivial moments. 

In the end, there was no real victor in their unspoken competition. Both Sasuke and Naruto had to deal with the dizzying aftermath of their roller coaster marathon by rushing to rid their mouths of the acidic taste of their digested dinner. Their bickering persisted, however, fueled by the day’s events rather than settled by them. 

“Can you splash water on your face instead of splashing at me, idiot?” Sasuke complained as he took a step back.

Naruto jerked his face away from the sink, water dripping from his wet hair, his expression morphing into one of annoyance. “Why are you always such an asshole, asshole?”

“That should be my line,” Sasuke replied without missing a beat.

“I’m the asshole?” Naruto shot back, incredulity pouring from his tone as his lips curled into a half-snarl. “You’re the one who always tags along and ruins everything, even though you already physically live with Sakura-chan!”

Sasuke’s expression hardened further. The sharp flicker of his anger made his features seem colder, more distant. “Is that what this is? You force her to work at Kabukicho all because you want to spend more time with her?” His words were low, the undertone of bitterness and resentment clinging to every syllable.

“I’m not forcing anyone, you bastard!” Naruto retorted, wiping the excess water from his face with his sleeves. “And she’s not working in Kabukicho; she’s working in Ichiraku!”

“What’s the difference?” Sasuke countered sharply. “You know fully well the kind of people that hang around that part.”

Naruto let out a derisive scoff, his nostrils flaring with disdain. “I guess you would know it best, wouldn’t you, Uchiha?”

Sasuke’s scowl deepened at the mention of his last name. He hadn’t explicitly mentioned it, but Naruto’s knack for recognizing people from his clan wasn’t surprising. If living with Sakura had already strained their relationship, this new revelation threatened to worsen things further. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Sasuke shot back, his tone cold and clipped, an attempt to brush the topic aside but failing to hide the tightness in his voice.

“Don’t play dumb, bastard,” Naruto retorted, his frustration rising like a tide.

Sasuke’s jaw tightened, a surge of irritation coursing through him. “You’re no better, Uzumaki.”

“What’s your intention with her?” Naruto’s voice was sharper now, the question an accusation, one laced with protectiveness and suspicion.

Sasuke’s gaze bore into him, unflinching. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Naruto bristled at the question thrown back at him, his thoughts racing. His old self would have argued and pushed back, but now, as the heir to his clan, he knew better than to get caught in that endless back-and-forth.

As much as Sasuke’s presence grated on him, Naruto couldn’t ignore what he saw in his demeanor—the barely restrained anger at the accusation. But beneath that was a real, undeniable concern for Sakura’s safety that mirrored his own.

For all the times Naruto despised Sasuke, he couldn’t shake the truth: cold as he was, Sasuke wasn’t someone who meant her harm.

That was Naruto’s assessment, at least for now. He would give Sasuke the benefit of the doubt, but only to a point.

Silently, he made a decision—if Sasuke so much as hinted at crossing a line, Naruto wouldn’t hesitate to step in and wield the weight of his newfound responsibility.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

The atmosphere was tense between them as Naruto and Sasuke exited the bathroom. Their earlier argument remained hanging in the air, unresolved. But the moment they stepped back into the crowded park, a different tension took hold.

“What the hell?” Naruto muttered, the confusion in his words clear as he scanned the area around the bench where they had left Sakura. She had been right there just minutes ago, yet now she was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she?” Sasuke’s voice was laced with urgency as he joined Naruto in searching the immediate vicinity.

Both of them simultaneously pulled out their phones, fingers moving with urgency as they hit the call button.

‘Don’t take up the line; I’m calling her,’ Naruto griped, shooting Sasuke a glare.

But before either of them could hear the first ring, the call was abruptly cut off—met with nothing but a cold, jarring beep.

Their eyes met in a shared moment of silent understanding, a flicker of unspoken worry flashing between them. The usual tension that existed between them was momentarily drowned out by something far more pressing. 

Immediately, Naruto and Sasuke split off in opposite directions. As Sasuke dashed through the dense crowds, scanning for any glimpse of pink hair, he fumbled out his phone and dialed again. But once more, the call cut off abruptly.

Clicking his tongue in frustration, Sasuke continued to maneuver through the throngs of people, his sharp gaze scanning every face that passed. Sakura could be so infuriatingly unpredictable at times. 

He knew the amusement park was one of the safer places she could be. Security was stationed at every corner and parkgoers filled the space. Real danger seemed a distant threat here, and he wasn’t too worried about her being harmed in such a place.

If anything, he was frustrated about why she had wandered off without a word, especially in a crowded park like this.

For someone he considered the smartest in her class, shouldn't she have the basic common sense to realize how difficult it would be to find her in this chaos? 

Notably, this wasn’t the first time he’d lost track of Sakura—she had a maddening knack for slipping away unnoticed. He recalled a similar incident on a train once, a memory that only added to his frustration now. 

Maybe he should start tying a balloon to her wrist for easier identification in crowds. The thought was ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny its practicality

They hadn’t spent that long in the bathroom—five, maybe ten minutes at most. Compared to Sakura’s meticulous morning routines, their brief absence should have been insignificant. Yet somehow, in that short span of time, she had vanished.

Sasuke was fuming—his patience worn razor-thin, his thoughts a tangled mess of anger and worry—when, at last, he caught sight of a familiar shade of pink among the shifting sea of people. Her wide-brimmed hat bobbed slightly as she moved, her unmistakable hair peeking out from underneath.

Relief surged through him—a sudden, overwhelming rush that made his shoulders loosen—but it was quickly obliterated by anger. What the hell had she been thinking? Without hesitation, he pushed forward, fully prepared to give her an earful about wandering off without a word.

But the reprimand died on his tongue the moment she turned around. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears and his heart tightened at the sight, all traces of anger dissipating instantly. 

She looked disoriented, clutching her phone tightly in one hand as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. That shaken expression—it wasn’t unfamiliar. He had seen it before. Back when they barely knew anything about each other, when she had executed her brilliant to follow him to campus.

Sakura, standing in the middle of a crowded train station, eyes wide and desperate as she scanned the sea of faceless strangers after momentarily losing sight of him. The frustration, the helplessness, the way her breath had hitched in panic before she finally found him—it was the same look she wore now.

Then her gaze locked onto his. Confusion melted into recognition, and in the next instant, relief crashed over her like a breaking wave.

“What’s wrong?” His voice came out quieter than expected—gentle yet urgent.

“Sasuke-kun!”

Before he could react, Sakura moved.

In a blur of motion, she threw her arms around his neck, her warmth colliding with his own. The force of it caught him off guard, knocking him slightly off balance, but before he could steady himself, her full weight crashed into him.

Sasuke staggered back—then the ground disappeared from beneath him.

With a startled grunt, he landed hard on his back, the cool grass pressing against him as the world momentarily spun. And then—Sakura curled against him, her breath warm against his collar, her fingers clutching onto him as if afraid he’d vanish.

“You’re heavy!” Sasuke grumbled, trying—and failing—to mask his concern with irritation. But Sakura, too overwhelmed by relief to care, didn’t even acknowledge his words. Instead, she let out a heavy sigh, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. The tension in her body slowly eased, as if his presence alone was enough to steady her.

Sasuke felt it—the way her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, the way her breath came uneven against his shoulder. He knew that whatever had shaken her, she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

With a sigh, he gave up on prying for now. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her back, his touch firm yet careful, and helped her to her feet.

Silently, they walked toward the gate, the noises of the amusement park fading into a distant hum. Sakura sniffled softly beside him, keeping her gaze fixed on the ground. Her grip on Sasuke’s hand was tight, a lifeline she clung to.

Sasuke didn’t say anything. He simply let her hold on, matching her pace, letting her cling to him for as long as she needed.

Sakura knew Sasuke wanted answers. She could feel it in the way he occasionally glanced at her, in the way his grip on her hand never wavered, steady yet expectant. But she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze—not when humiliation burned so hot in her chest.

How could she even begin to explain? That she had been reduced to this mess simply because she got lost in the crowd, swallowed by darkness and surrounded by people in terrifying costumes? It sounded so childish, so pathetic.

She was too old to be afraid of the dark. Too old to panic just because she got lost in a crowd. It was ridiculous. Embarrassing.

The fear of appearing weak gnawed at her, making her shrink further into herself. Would Sasuke see her differently now? Annoying? Less capable?

Overhead, a voice cut through her thoughts. Sakura’s entire body stiffened as the announcement echoed through the amusement park speakers.

“If you are Haruno Sakura, Haruno Sakura…”

Oh no.

“College student, short, pretty, pink-haired, in a witch outfit…”

No, no, no.

“…Please come to the information desk near the entrance; your boyfriend is looking for you.”

Sakura turned a shade of red so vivid it rivaled the fiery glow of the lanterns around them. Heat surged up her neck and into her ears, mortification crashing over her like a tidal wave. She let out a strangled noise, barely managing to stifle her groan as she buried her face in her hands, wishing a hole would just appear and swallow her whole.

Sasuke, noticing her distress, reached over and tugged her witchy hat further down, the brim dipping low enough to shield her flaming cheeks and, more importantly, her unmistakable pink hair.

The two of them didn’t even reach the information desk before Sasuke spotted an angry Naruto stomping his way toward him. Even from a distance, he had noticed Sakura’s watery eyes, his concerned gaze flicking to Sasuke with suspicion.

“Bastard, what did you do?”

Naruto’s voice rang sharp with accusation, threaded with both anger and worry as he seized Sasuke’s collar in a tight fist. His knuckles whitened, muscles tensed as though he were moments from shaking the answer out of him.

Sasuke remained impassive, his dark eyes cool and unreadable, but his shoulders stiffened ever so slightly under Naruto’s grip.

Before the situation could escalate, Sakura wedged herself between them, her hands prying Naruto’s grip off Sasuke’s shirt.

“Naruto, stop it!” She exclaimed, her voice both firm and flustered, urgency weaving through her words.

Naruto’s eyes softened the moment he turned his attention to Sakura; his anger at Sasuke was quickly forgotten. “Sakura-chan, are you ok?”

Sakura wished she could disappear. The heat that had just begun to fade from her face surged back in full force. She could feel the weight of her own mortification pressing down on her like a lead blanket. “Did you have to make an announcement?” She hissed in a small voice.

“What was I supposed to do, Sakura-chan?” Naruto’s voice cracked, frustration barely contained. “You didn’t pick up your phone!”

Sakura’s fingers fumbled with her dead phone in her pocket, the sharp sting of guilt gnawing at her chest. The battery had died at the most inopportune moment, leaving her helpless. She swallowed hard, the heavy knot of shame tightening in her throat. “Sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her gaze dropping to the ground as her heart thudded in her chest.

Naruto let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. “Don’t be,” he said, his tone softening with concern. “What happened?”

Sakura’s stomach churned as she tried to avoid his eyes, the warmth of embarrassment flooding her cheeks. She could feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on her, and it made her want to shrink into herself again. She hesitated, words feeling thick in her mouth, but there was no escape from the truth.

“I was going to buy some drinks for you guys, but I got lost,” Sakura muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. The heat in her cheeks deepened as embarrassment crept up her neck. Her gaze darted away, avoiding Naruto’s concerned look, as if the ground could somehow shield her from the weight of her own perceived foolishness.

Naruto followed her averted gaze. His eyes landed on a staff in a tattered zombie costume, stumbling through the crowd with exaggerated, jerky movements. The eerie groan of the costume echoed in the crisp air. 

His childhood friend, who always tried to maintain a tough exterior, had never been one for these kinds of things. She was brave in so many ways, but when it came to horror-themed crowds and creepy costumes, she was more than a little jumpy. The idea of being lost among these “monsters,” with no way to reach her friends, must have been enough to make her heart race and her mind spiral into panic. Naruto could almost feel the wave of unease that must have hit her as she wandered alone, amidst the unsettling characters.

Naruto’s expression softened, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He couldn’t help but remember how Sakura had always struggled during Setsubun festivals, though she managed those celebrations better than she did now. At least during Setsubun, she had beans to defend herself against the “ogres.” Here, she found herself constrained by societal norms, which discouraged her from openly displaying her distress or making a scene, even when surrounded by things that frightened her.

Naruto, not meaning to, let out a laugh—a short, unexpected burst that surprised even himself. It was a sound full of warmth, the kind that escaped when he found something undeniably endearing despite his best efforts to stay serious. Then he sighed, the sound a mix of affection and mild amusement, a soft release of tension. His arms slipped around her, pulling her into a warm, tight hug. His arms were a familiar, safe place, and he felt her relax just a little against him. 

“You haven’t changed at all, Sakura-chan,” he murmured, his voice gentle, though there was a playful edge to it.

Naruto could recall another time, back in their home town during a summer festival. Sakura had insisted on dragging him into a haunted house to prove her courage, a challenge neither of them was truly prepared for. They had both ended up so terrified that they had clung to each other, wide-eyed and frozen. They were so frightened the worker in their ghostly attire had to guide them out through the exit because they refused to move otherwise.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him. Sakura was safe and that was all that mattered. But more than that, it was the reassuring realization that she hadn’t changed as much as he’d feared. Despite how different she looked now, the core of her, with her mix of bravery and vulnerability, remained reassuringly familiar to him.

Sakura, feeling indignant but unable to come up with a retort, allowed Naruto to embrace her. She had mistakenly, yet predictably, believed that Naruto was teasing her for being scared of monsters despite her age with his remark.

“Don’t be an asshole, Naruto,” she muttered under her breath, half grumbling and half flustered. She couldn’t get away with being embarrassed without him noticing.

“There are goosebumps on your arms,” Naruto pointed out, prompting Sakura to punch his side in retaliation. Fortunately for Naruto, Sakura didn’t have much power behind her punch with her arms restrained in his bear hug.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

After the incident, the three of them unanimously decided it was time to leave the park, but not before Sakura convinced them to stop by one of the shops near the entrance.

Despite Sakura’s insistence, Naruto declined her offer to buy him any gifts. To him, the joy of simply spending time with her at the park was already the best gift she could give him. He meant it. The laughter, the shared moments, the warmth of being together—nothing else mattered. He would trade anything, any material gift, if it meant he and Sakura could continue to celebrate their birthdays side by side for many years after.

As Sakura flitted between shelves, her fingers brushing over plush toys and trinkets, Naruto and Sasuke trailed a few steps behind. The shop smelled faintly of polished wood and sweet confections, the warm lighting casting a golden glow over the neatly arranged displays. It was a stark contrast to the cool night outside, where the echoes of laughter from lingering parkgoers still drifted through the entrance.

Looking at Sakura now, darting around the store like a kid in a candy shop, Sasuke couldn’t believe she had been on the verge of tears just moments ago. The only lingering evidence was the redness around her eyes from where she had rubbed them.

Seeing Sakura in that state had been a shock for Sasuke. In his mind, his roommate was stubborn and strong-willed, always meeting the world with an almost carefree determination. Even when she was afraid to sleep in the dark, she found ways to cope on her own. She rarely asked for help and never let her issues be anyone else’s burden, and maybe that was the problem. Maybe he had been too focused on himself to notice how much she endured just to keep the peace in their apartment.

“Does she do that often?” Sasuke asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Naruto, who had been absently fiddling with a rack of souvenirs, turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “What? Cry?”

Sasuke gave a small nod, his gaze drifting back to Sakura as she stood by a nearby display, running her fingers over a row of delicate figurines. The store’s warm lighting softened her features, but the slight puffiness around her eyes remained.

“All the time,” Naruto replied with an easy shrug. “Ghosts, monsters, cliche romantic movies, emotional commercials—all the classics.”

Sasuke absorbed that, watching as Sakura smiled faintly at a trinket in her hand.

“What about the dark?” He asked after a pause.

Naruto hummed in acknowledgment, his fingers idly toying with a small keychain shaped like a pink flower. He turned it over, watching how the light reflected off the glossy surface before responding. “Oh yeah, that’s probably her main fear.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sasuke probed further.

Naruto exhaled through his nose. His voice softened slightly, the usual carefree edge giving way to something more thoughtful. “When she was seven, her parents had to leave town for an emergency, and she spent the night alone in the house. The power went out that same night—pitch black, dead silent. She was stuck there for hours, completely alone.”

Naruto paused, his fingers tightening slightly around the keychain. When he spoke again, a hint of guilt and quiet frustration crept into his voice. “And the worst part? She never thought to ask for help. My house was only a few doors down, and she just... endured it. Didn’t say a word, didn’t come knocking, nothing.” His jaw tensed for a moment. “I had to force her to tell me what was wrong afterward. She acted like it was nothing, like I couldn’t have helped. But she’s been scared of the dark since then.”

Sasuke nodded as he listened. It was a reasonable enough reason to develop a fear, but something about it still didn’t quite make sense to him. “She sleeps with a slug lamp,” he pointed out, his tone more of an observation than a question.

Naruto shot him a sideways glance, brows twitching in mild irritation. He could never tell what Sasuke was getting at with his half-formed questions, and it was frustrating—like trying to decode a language with half the letters missing. Why couldn’t he just ask what he actually wanted to know, like a normal person?

Sighing, Naruto set the keychain down with a small clink. “Yeah?” He prompted, exasperation in his voice.

Sasuke looked equally vexed at having to explain himself. His brows furrowed as he pressed further. “If she’s scared of the dark, then how come she can only sleep without it when she’s next to someone else?”

Naruto froze, his body going rigid as he registered Sasuke’s words. Slowly, he turned his head, his blue eyes now sharp and unreadable. “How did you know about that?”

“Because when she broke her lamp—” Sasuke cut himself off as Naruto turned to him fully. The blonde’s eyes were dark with something dangerously close to murder. But instead of stopping, Sasuke met Naruto’s glare head-on, his own gaze steady and unwavering. “Nothing happened; you can ask her yourself.”

Naruto’s jaw remained clenched, but his gaze flickered toward his childhood friend, who was practically skipping from one display to another, her earlier distress now completely masked by the childlike excitement in her movements. He knew Sakura better than anyone—she never hid things from him, never kept secrets that truly mattered. If something had happened, she would have told him. And as much as he distrusted Sasuke, he could tell the bastard wasn’t lying.

Naruto exhaled sharply through his nose before speaking, his frustration barely contained. “Sakura-chan only ever falls asleep next to someone she truly trusts.” He spared Sasuke a sharp, lingering glance before turning away, his tone both a warning and a plea. “Don’t you take advantage of that.”

With Naruto out of sight, Sasuke shifted his attention to Sakura. He watched in silence as she plucked a teddy bear from the shelf, cradling it for a moment before making her way toward the cashier.

Without a word, Sasuke stepped up beside her and offered to pay. Money was tight for him, but he suspected it was for her too, considering she had already covered the cost of hers and Naruto’s tickets. Sakura immediately refused, shaking her head with a polite but firm insistence. Yet, after a brief exchange—Sasuke’s quiet persistence against her reluctant protests—she finally relented, allowing him to place the bills on the counter.

When it was time to part ways, Naruto pulled Sakura into a long, tight hug, murmuring something against her hair that Sasuke couldn’t hear. She smiled, squeezing him back just as tightly. Then, as Naruto turned to Sasuke, whatever warmth had been in his expression evaporated. Without hesitation, he raised his middle finger high and proud before strolling off into the night.

Sasuke sighed but didn’t react, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he and Sakura made their way home.

It wasn’t until much later—when the night had settled around them, their cramped apartment steeped in darkness, and they lay side by side on their futons—that Sakura made a discovery. And the moment she realized what it was, her breath hitched softly in the dark. 

“Oh my Kami!”

Sasuke jolted upright, heart lurching at the sudden exclamation. His eyes, still adjusting to the dark, flickered toward Sakura’s silhouette. “What? What happened?”

Instead of answering right away, Sakura held up the teddy bear he had bought her earlier. Even in the dim room, Sasuke could make out the faint glow of mismatched blue patches sewn across its fabric of the bear’s Frankenstein-like appearance.

Sakura gasped in delight, her expression nothing short of pure amazement. She turned the bear in her hands, watching as the glow-in-the-dark patterns pulsed faintly like tiny constellations.

For a brief moment, Sasuke just stared, processing the unexpected turn of events. He had only paid for the damn thing because she wouldn’t let him do anything else for her. He hadn’t given it much thought beyond that. But now, seeing the way she lit up—how she beamed as though he had handed her something infinitely more precious—he realized something that left himself at a loss.

Then, before he could think of something to say, Sakura grinned widely and hugged the bear close.

“Goodnight, Sasuke-kun!” She chirped, her voice light and soft, almost like a quiet thank you. She laid back down, the rustling of her blanket filling the brief silence, and then turned onto her side, her back facing him.

Lying back down on his futon, Sasuke exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the ceiling above. The weight of the day pressed down on him from his conversation with Naruto and the revelations about Sakura’s fear. He had spent the entire walk home turning over each detail, every word, trying to make sense of it all.

But now, with the knowledge of what the bear could do, a new unease settled into him. In that moment, he felt no different than the slug lamp sitting on her desk. It would seem that he had unknowingly paid to be replaced. And he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad that Sakura would surely now always bring the teddy to bed with her.

Chapter Text

With his hand gripping his phone tightly, Naruto took a deep breath, his pulse quickening as anticipation coiled in his chest. Swallowing hard, he finally tapped it.

The dial tone barely had time to echo before a familiar voice slipped through the speaker, warm and welcoming.

“Yes, Naruto?”

His heart kicked against his ribs.

“Shhh, Sakura-chan, keep your voice down!” He hissed, his words sharp with urgency.

A snort crackled through the receiver, followed by Sakura’s amused, but only half-heartedly hushed, response.

“Sure, what is it?”

Naruto’s frustration flickered like a spark in his gut. He could practically see the smirk tugging at Sakura’s lips. How could she not see the gravity of the situation?

Still, he pushed forward. “Is the bastard there?”

A pause. Then, Sakura’s voice lifted slightly in confusion. “The bastard? Do you mean Sasuke-kun?”

Naruto tensed. “Shh, Sakura-chan!” He scolded again, though his own voice betrayed him, rising despite his best efforts. He exhaled sharply, then muttered through clenched teeth, “Yes, that bastard.”

There was a brief silence, the one where he imagined Sakura glancing around, eyes narrowed in suspicion, like some undercover agent trying to avoid detection. Then came the faint rustling of fabric likely from her moving to a more private spot.

Then, her voice returned, way too casual for Naruto’s liking. “Yeah. He’s right next to me.”

At that moment, Naruto could feel it—Sasuke’s presence, dark and brooding, like some kind of vengeful ghost haunting the call. He didn’t even need to say anything. Somehow, even through the phone, Naruto could picture him standing there, arms crossed, an intense gaze fixed on him just for the drama.

Naruto’s grip on his phone tightened as deeply ingrained annoyance settled into his bones. He should just hang up right then and there—pretend it was the wrong number, fake a signal loss, or claim amnesia. But he knew if he called back later, Sasuke would still be there, still being an absolute menace to Naruto’s peace of mind. There was no escaping it.

Trapped, Naruto let out a silent groan and begrudgingly informed Sakura (and the bastard) of the reason he was calling her in the first place.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

After nearly two whole months of barely seeing each other, the trio found themselves on yet another trip—this time, thanks to Naruto’s dumb luck at the market lottery. Upon discovering he had won a fully paid trip to any hot spring of his choice for two people, he saw it as the perfect opportunity to spend some much-needed quality time with his childhood friend. Quietly, he had hoped that maybe—just maybe—this third trip would be the charm.

But, as always, fate had other plans.

Because somehow, Sasuke—who, according to Sakura, had apparently developed a sudden and very convenient fondness for hot springs—insisted on tagging along by paying his own way, as if that somehow made this intrusion any less annoying.

Naruto could already feel the impending headache forming.

The train ride to the hot spring town was predictably eventful—because, of course, Naruto couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes, and Sasuke had the patience of a man forced to endure Naruto’s existence for years. Yet somehow, without a single word exchanged, the two of them silently agreed on one thing: they were not bringing up the argument from the theme park—neither dared to reopen that particular can of worms in front of Sakura. Instead, they found entirely new reasons to be annoyed and offended by each other.

Naruto huffed loudly every time Sasuke so much as shifted in his seat. Meanwhile, Sasuke pretended Naruto wasn’t there at all—until Naruto started humming off-key on purpose just to test his limits.

Naruto’s knee bounced incessantly, rattling the small table between them. Sasuke, without even looking up from his book, calmly placed a hand on the table to still it, only for Naruto to start tapping his fingers instead. And that, somehow, was how chaos happened.

Miraculously, they managed to arrive before six to check in, but that was when they hit their first obstacle.

Peak season meant limited availability, and despite their best efforts, they couldn’t secure two separate rooms. Instead, they were graciously offered one large room to share. The news was met with a mix of reactions: mild indifference from Sakura and barely concealed horror from both Naruto and Sasuke.

For Sakura—who had previously shared rooms with both of them separately—it wasn’t a big deal. She would have preferred her own space to unwind, but compared to what she’d had to deal with, this seems to be on theme.

Naruto, on the other hand, reacted as if he had just been sentenced to life in prison.

“No. No way. Absolutely not. There has to be a mistake!” He blurted out, gripping the edge of the reception desk like the very foundation of his peace depended on it. His blue eyes darted desperately between the receptionist and Sakura, hoping one of them would miraculously produce another key. “One room? With him?” He jabbed an accusatory finger at Sasuke, who, predictably, remained unfazed.

Sasuke, arms crossed, simply exhaled through his nose, which in Sasuke language roughly translated to: I hate this, but I refuse to be as loud about it as you.

Still, he wasn’t pleased. His sharp gaze flicked to the receptionist, then to the room key, then back to Naruto, as if silently calculating whether it was worth the effort to fight this battle.

Sakura, who had just about reached her limit, threw up her hands. “Will you two just give it a rest for one minute?! This was supposed to be a relaxing trip!”

Before either of them could get another word in, Sakura’s attention flicked toward the entrance as two other guests arrived, their polite conversation a stark contrast to the ridiculous scene unfolding at the reception desk.

Sensing an opportunity to put an end to the nonsense before it got even more embarrassing, the receptionist—who had clearly witnessed far stranger disputes in her line of work—cleared her throat. "So... will you be taking the room?”

“Yes, we are!” Sakura confirmed immediately, her tone brooking no argument. There was no way she endured an almost three-hour train ride just to be turned away at the ryokan because of these two children disguised as grown men.

A long, painful silence stretched between Naruto and Sasuke after Sakura’s decisive move. They exchanged a glance. There was no point in arguing now. Sakura had made the call, and they both knew better than to push their luck with her. The only saving grace for them both was the fact that they could easily keep an eye on each other. Because there was no way either of them was letting the other get away with anything.

A hearty dinner turned out to be exactly what they needed to improve their hangry mood. The satisfying, warm meal temporarily calmed the tension—though Naruto, of course, had taken full advantage of the free sake and, unsurprisingly, passed out after one too many shots.

Sakura and Sasuke, both feeling tipsy themselves, decided it was time to head to the hot spring. The alcohol was still swirling in their systems, and both of them were in desperate need of fresh air and a way to sweat out the effects. More than that, they were both keen to escape the chaos that had been Naruto for the past few hours.

Luckily enough for them, it seemed that all the other guests had utilized the hot springs earlier in the day, which allowed them to have the hot spring all to themselves.

Sakura, ever the one to savor her moments of solitude, took her time in the shower. The soothing, hot water washed away the remnants of the evening’s tension. She let the steam wrap around her, a perfect contrast to the wild energy of the dinner and the chaotic presence of her two companions. For a few minutes, she was in her own world—quiet, peaceful, alone.

After finishing, Sakura carefully gathered her damp hair into a neat bun, making sure no strands escaped to annoy her during her time in the spring. She wrapped herself in a towel and padded her way to the hot spring. The air was crisp but warm enough to make her skin tingle as she stepped outside.

The steam was rising in gentle waves from the slightly opaque water. Without a second thought, she eased herself into the water, letting the heat envelop her body. She submerged herself fully, sighing deeply as the warmth worked its magic, loosening the tightness in her muscles.

She couldn’t help but release a long, quiet moan of relief—one that would be forever her secret, hidden away in the stillness of the night. It was the kind of relief that came after a long, exhausting day. The kind that made her feel like she could finally breathe. Her eyes closed, and for the first time in hours, she allowed herself to just be, forgetting for a while about everything else that was waiting for her back at the room.

“Sakura.”

The sound of her name made her jump, her body stiffening as she whipped her head around. There sat Sasuke in the steaming water like some kind of unbothered, stoic guardian of the spring. His black hair was damp, the steam rising around him making him look even more like he’d stepped out of one of her more ridiculous daydreams.

Her heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, she yelled, “What are you doing here?” Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest as though it could shield her from the fact that he was now in the same bath.

Sasuke, unfazed as ever, raised an eyebrow. “That should be my line, you pervert.”

Sakura’s face flushed a deep shade of crimson. “What are you talking about? This is the women’s bath,” she exclaimed, her voice defensive.

“It’s a co-ed bath, Sakura,” Sasuke calmly pointed out. 

Sakura blinked, her eyes narrowing as she processed the words. “Co-ed bath?” Her voice was a mix of disbelief and mild horror as she tried to think back on what Naruto had told her about the place.

“Yes, co-ed. You waltzed right in even when I was here first.” Sasuke crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of the spring. There was a teasing glint in his eyes, though he was making no effort to look at her directly.

Sakura’s face flushed a brilliant red, a stark contrast against her delicate features, which Sasuke found oddly endearing. And for a fleeting second, Sasuke found himself noticing it far more than he usually would.

Sakura sputtered, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape, but there was none. “That’s because I didn’t even know you were here!” She protested, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving her face, a small smirk on his lips. “Sure, I believe you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have made that sound earlier.” He let the words linger in the air, as though savoring the discomfort he was causing.

Sakura’s heart rate spiked as she felt her entire body grow impossibly hot. She hated that little smirk he wore, the one that said he knew exactly how flustered she was and was enjoying every second of it.

Her fingers clenched against the edge of the bath as she fought to keep her composure, trying to push aside the heat of embarrassment flooding her body. “Okay, but what about you?” Sakura retorted. “You called me a pervert, but you didn’t give me a warning that you were here in the first place!”

“You didn’t exactly ask before barging in,” he shot back, his voice calm and a little too collected for Sakura’s liking.

Her stomach dropped as she suddenly realized just how bad this might actually be. Her eyes widened in horror as a thought hit her.

“Did you see… when I walked in?” Sakura asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Her heart pounded in her chest as she instinctively tightened her arms around her chest, as though trying to shield herself from the invisible accusation.

Sasuke, uncharacteristically, looked away, his eyes shifting toward the water with a barely noticeable shift in his posture. There was a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and Sakura wasn’t sure if it was from the heat of the spring or something else entirely.

Sasuke didn’t immediately respond. What could he even say? The truth was, even now, the sight of his roommate—her hair neatly tied up in a bun, leaving the soft curve of her neck and creamy skin visible—was distracting in more ways than one. And that realization made everything feel even more awkward.

“I will neither deny nor confirm that.”

“You pig!” Sakura shot up in a sudden outburst, her finger jabbing accusingly at Sasuke. Her movement was so quick and forceful that it made him flinch, eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected aggression. The water splashed around her, and for a brief, unfortunate second, her arms unconsciously left her chest unguarded.

As soon as she realized her mistake, her hands shot back to cover herself, and she dropped back down into the water with the same swift panic. Her face burned with an intensity that could rival the heat of the spring. “You did see something!” she squeaked, mortified.

Sasuke, looking away but still trying to keep his composure, cleared his throat. A faint flush lingered on his cheeks, though he was doing his best to hide it. “That wasn’t my fault,” he said defensively, his voice strangely tight. He shifted slightly in the water, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s hard to see nothing if you do that.”

“I was talking about when I walked in here!” She shot back, her frustration rising. “You know, when I accidentally barged in! That’s what I meant!”

“You can accuse me all you want. I’m not denying or confirming anything,” Sasuke replied calmly, though his gaze remained guarded.

Sakura spluttered, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and her thoughts jumbled. “But if an honest person really didn’t see anything, they would just say no!” She glared at him, but it lacked its usual venom, as she was too flustered to be as sharp as she usually was.

“Then would you have believed me if I said I didn’t see anything?”

Sakura stammered in response, her mind short-circuiting from the absurdity of the situation. “No! I mean… yes? I mean…” Her words came out in a tangled mess, each one contradicting the last as she tried to form a coherent response. She wanted to be mad, but she was too mortified to hold onto any anger.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure there are plenty of times when you’ve ogled at my body,” Sasuke said, his voice low and daring, but there was an edge of indignation and a hint of embarrassment that made Sakura’s pulse spike. “Wouldn’t this just make it fair?”

Sakura’s eyes widened in horror. “T-that’s because you choose to walk around the apartment without a shirt on!” She snapped, a little too quickly, hoping her defense would make sense.

Sasuke, however, didn’t back down. “I had an undershirt on, and you have the choice to not look, but you did,” he fired back, his tone cutting through her attempt at defense. Gaining back some confidence, Sasuke crossed his arms, clearly enjoying her discomfort a little too much. “You might as well have just taken a photo.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped, her brain short-circuiting as the weight of Sasuke’s words hit her. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? She had no comeback, no argument to present—just pure, unadulterated embarrassment flooding her entire body. 

Sensing herself losing the argument, Sakura switched gears. She straightened her back, summoning the bravado she so often relied on. “But after all that time, you never voice your concern,” she challenged, though she hated the tremor in her voice. She could feel the tightness in her chest, but she refused to back down. “So does that mean you were enjoying my attention, Sasuke-kun?”

Sasuke straightened up in the water, his broad chest rising just above the waterline. The movement made Sakura’s heart skip a beat as her mind momentarily lost focus. The muscles in his torso were more defined than she remembered, and the way the water cascaded around his body only seemed to highlight his physical presence. Sakura struggled to pull her gaze away, though the intense eye contact between them made it difficult to look anywhere else.

She suddenly became hyper-aware of just how close they were in the small space of the bath. There was no denying it—they were now much nearer than when she had first stepped into the water. Sasuke was right there, and the proximity made her skin feel like it was burning. Her breath quickened as she fought to keep her composure.

Sasuke seemed to hesitate, his brow furrowing slightly as he gathered his thoughts. For a split second, Sakura thought she had won, that maybe he was finally caught off guard or at least unsure of how to respond. But then Sasuke’s demeanor shifted. His gaze sharpened, locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a jolt through her chest. The casual, teasing air that had surrounded him earlier vanished, replaced by something more serious.

“What if I say I do?” He asked, his voice steady but carrying an edge that made the words feel heavier than they had any right to.

Sakura’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding against her ribs as his words hit her like a wave. She could barely process what he’d just said, each syllable hanging in the air between them, thick with implication. For a long moment, she couldn’t look away. She was trapped in his gaze, her pulse quickening, her mind racing to catch up with what was happening.

Instinctively, her body reacted before her brain could catch up. She took a step backward, as if putting distance between them could somehow give her control of the situation again. The warmth of the water lapped gently against her skin; its heat was no match for the rising warmth flooding her face. But despite her retreat, Sasuke took a step forward, closing the space between them.

Her back soon found the side of the bath, the cool stone of the bath’s edge pressing against her spine. The contrast between the heat of the water and the chill of the stone sent a shiver down her body.

The steam swirling around them seemed thicker, more oppressive now, as if it too was holding its breath. The spacious bathhouse now felt suffocatingly small, its walls closing in on them with every passing second.

I’m so fucked.

Sakura had expected Sasuke to deny her accusation, to back off like he usually did when she pushed him too far, but instead, the exact opposite happened. Was this still the alcohol talking? Could she have misread the situation so completely?

Her heart hammered in her chest as her thoughts scrambled. What was she supposed to say to that?

Sasuke’s eyes darkened, and she swore she saw something flicker in them—something sharp, almost predatory. 

“What do you think you’re doing, you pervert?” She asked, trying to muster some semblance of bravado, but her words felt weak under the weight of his gaze.

Sasuke was always so calm, so composed, but this time, something in him seemed to snap. 

This girl in front of him—always pushing his buttons, keeping him on edge—was just as infuriating as she was effortlessly alluring. There was something coquettish about the way she teased him, though she seemed completely unaware of it, her flirtations unintentional yet maddeningly effective. He was growing tired of this game, of being toyed with like a fool. If there was something between them—something more than just innocent banter—he refused to be the first to admit it.

No, he’d make her say it. He’d drag a confession out of her, one way or another.

“Admit it, Sakura,” Sasuke drawled, his voice smooth yet edged with challenge. The words struck her like a jolt, her breath catching as an involuntary shiver ran through her. She swallowed hard, pulse quickening. He wasn’t backing off.

There was an inexplicable pull in the way he said her name, each syllable curling off his tongue like a secret meant only for her. Since when had her own name sounded so captivating—so dangerously intimate—when spoken by him?

“Either you’re the pervert you’re accusing me of being.” Sasuke’s voice was a low, husky whisper and it rattled her more than she was willing to admit. 

He braced both arms on either side of her, his presence overwhelming, inescapable. He leaned in, slow and deliberate, the space between them shrinking to something almost suffocating—or maybe intoxicating. Sakura couldn’t decide which. His face hovered dangerously close, his breath a tantalizing brush against her cheek, warm enough to make her skin prickle. The steam swirled around them like a veil, enclosing them in an intimacy she wasn’t sure she was ready to acknowledge.

“…Or you’re secretly into me.”

Sasuke was certain he no longer had control over his own body as his hands itched to feel her skin. His face slowly dipped down toward Sakura’s, drawn by an undeniable magnetic pull. His eyes fixated on her plump lips, subtly bitten between her teeth, a gesture that seemed to invite him closer. Was it a conscious act on her part, tempting him? How could she provoke him like this and not expect him to react?

Sasuke realized he was teetering on the edge, about to cross a line he couldn’t fully understand. Yet, despite his uncertainty, he found himself allowed to continue. In the haze of alcohol, all his mind craved was to hear his name on her lips, to feel her presence against his skin. It was a selfish desire, but he needed to know that he, not her blonde childhood friend, not his older brother, or any other man, held this special, significant place in her life.

Sasuke could see her gulping down the lump in her throat; his eyes were drawn in explicitly to the way her throat subtly moved. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he struggled to think straight, and Sasuke had the feeling Sakura was having the same struggle as well. 

“I—”

The door to the bath swung open with an almighty bang, and Sasuke flinched as if struck. The sudden sound shattered the fragile bubble they had been cocooned in, breaking the silence with the force of a tidal wave. Both Sasuke and Sakura whipped their heads toward the entrance. Naruto stood there, his hair wild and unkempt, his arms thrown out in an exaggerated pose as if he owned the room, completely nude. His scowl was unmistakable, the sheer annoyance radiating from him enough to instantly diffuse the electric atmosphere.

“What’s going on here?” Naruto’s voice boomed, louder than it had any right to be, like a cannon shot aimed directly at their fragile state.

Sakura buried her face in her hands just in time to prevent her curious eyes from wandering again. 

“Oh Kami, save me…” She muttered under her breath, barely able to breathe through the mortification.

The sound of Naruto’s loud, uncoordinated footsteps slapping against the wet stone floor snapped her out of her spiral. She felt the water ripple as he splashed into the bath with all the grace of a walrus, his unrestrained presence booming through the serene, steaming air like a storm.

“Why do you have to be here right now of all places?’ Sasuke’s irritation was palpable as he stepped away from Sakura. It was a rhetorical question, but Naruto answered anyway.

“I was initially here just to take a bath but apparently, you two need a chaperone,” he declared, completely oblivious to the burning tension in the air. Sasuke’s eyes rolled so hard they might as well have left his head. “Nothing short of wholesome is going to happen while I’m here, especially while we’re on this family-friendly trip!”

Sakura squeezed her eyes shut tighter, willing the intense heat in her face to subside, but it only seemed to burn hotter. She could feel the weight of Naruto’s confused stare drilling into her, and it only made her more uncomfortable.

When Naruto didn’t hear any response, he turned to her with that typical cluelessness, his voice breaking through the silence. “Sakura-chan, is something wrong with your eyes?” He was inching closer, oblivious to her very real, very justified distress.

“Stay away, you idiot!” She barked, her voice muffled behind her hands as she heard Naruto approaching her. She felt trapped in the water, the steam pressing in around her like a heavy weight.

Naruto stopped in his tracks, swaying slightly from the effects of alcohol. “What? Why?” His voice had a casual tone, but there was a hint of real confusion, his drunken brain struggling to piece things together.

“Because you’re naked, Naruto!” Sakura snapped, the words tumbling out in a rush, her frustration bursting through her embarrassment. “Why else?” Her arms tightened around herself defensively, unwilling to look in his direction.

Naruto raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Why are you so shy all of a sudden, Sakura-chan? We used to take baths together all the time.”

A faint, disbelieving scoff left Sakura’s lips. “That’s like decades ago, Naruto; get with the times!”

Meanwhile, Sasuke, who had been silently enduring this circus, shot Naruto a death glare that could’ve melted stone. But Naruto, predictably, didn’t even seem to notice. He just stood there, his arms crossed, his face twisted in confusion as he tried to process why Sakura was acting so weird.

“Then why is it that when you’re in here with the bastard, you’re all over each other, but the moment I get in, you avoid me like the plague?” Naruto huffed, the hurt in his voice somehow mixing with his usual bluntness.

Naruto glanced over at Sasuke, seeking an explanation, but Sasuke just shrugged coolly. “I will neither confirm nor deny anything that happened in here.”

Naruto’s face scrunched up in exasperation. “What does that even mean, bastard?”

Sakura couldn’t help herself and jumped in. “We were not all over each other! He’s the only one who came toward me!”

Feeling the pressure on him, Sasuke steered the conversation back to his roommate. “If you want to talk about that, then why don’t you tell him how you sneak into the bath when I’m already here, pervert?”

Sakura’s eyes widened, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as she whipped her head toward Sasuke. “I can’t believe you! l—”

“Sneak?” Naruto interjected, looking utterly confused. “Sakura-chan, you’re supposed to peek from behind the door, not join us in the bath.”

“There is no ‘us,’ idiot,” Sasuke argued. “You came in after Sakura did. If she’s peeking at anyone, it would have only been me.”

Sakura bristled at the insinuation. “I was not peek—!”

“Are you implying Sakura wouldn’t peek at me?” Naruto said, crossing his arms over his chest like he was some kind of expert in this matter. He turned his nose up in dramatic defiance. “I’ll have you know, I look just like those naked models she stares at in her magazines!”

Sakura nearly choked on the water in her mouth.

“Oh?” Sasuke’s voice was smooth, his gaze shifting to Sakura with an almost teasing intensity. She froze, eyes snapping up from where she had been hiding her face, her cheeks a bright crimson. He knew she had a bookshelf of romantic novels and manga. In fact, he had given one a try. He didn’t realize that amidst the cliché romantic moment, his roommate would also indulge in other guilty pleasures.

Sakura’s heart thumped painfully in her chest. She had never been this embarrassed in her life. “Those are human anatomy diagrams from my medical book, you idiot!” She exclaimed, her voice shaky as she tried to recover some of her usual confidence. Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, as if somehow protecting herself from their judgment.

Naruto, always the instigator, grinned in smug satisfaction. “Then why were you blushing when you looked at them?” He asked, a mischievous spark in his eyes, clearly enjoying the chaos he was causing.

Sakura backed up against the bath wall again, as if trying to distance herself from the two boys, but she couldn’t escape their attention. The way their eyes were locked on her made her feel like she was being scrutinized under a magnifying glass. “I did not, you filthy liar!”

“You are blushing right now, Sakura-chan.” Naruto’s grin grew even wider as he leaned slightly closer to her, his playful flexing of his arms only fueling the fire of his teasing. “Just admit you think my muscles are sexy.” 

Heat flared across Sakura’s face, spreading down her neck. She wished desperately that she could just vanish into the thick steam, away from the two boys who had somehow united in their shared mission to torment her.

The dizziness from the alcohol blurred the edges of reality, making everything feel surreal, like a fever dream she couldn’t escape. Naruto’s obnoxious laughter was already ringing in her head, even if he hadn’t said a word yet, and Sasuke—of course—was just as insufferable in his silent, knowing way.

Her thoughts felt tangled, slipping away like water through her fingers. The alcohol dulled her senses, but the crushing weight of embarrassment sharpened everything else, making it impossible to breathe. They were ganging up on her, their teasing pressing in from both sides, until it felt like the world itself was closing in.

Suddenly, Sakura pushed herself away from the bath’s edge. “You idiots need to close your eyes right now! I’m getting out of this stupid bath!” She shouted, her voice louder than she intended

When both boys continued to stare at her with teasing smirks, as if daring her to react, Sakura felt irritation rising within her. Without a second thought, Sakura scooped up a handful of warm water and splashed it in their faces. The water hit Naruto and Sasuke with a satisfying splatter, causing them to sputter and wipe the droplets from their eyes.

Promptly, Sakura rose from the bath. Quickly and carefully, she made her way back to the changing room on her wet feet, her steps echoing in the silence that followed.

As the boys shook water from their faces, the bath door closed shut behind Sakura, leaving Naruto and Sasuke alone, staring at each other in the steam-filled silence. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, Sasuke couldn’t contain his curiosity.

“Was it really just medical textbooks?”

Naruto shot back without hesitation. “You think I know how to read at seven?” 

Sasuke nodded his silent acceptance. He should have known better than to trust Naruto.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

When Sakura returned from the bath, the faint scent of tatami and freshly laundered sheets greeted her. The innkeeper had tidied up, clearing away the remnants of their meal, and laid out three futons in the middle of the softly lit room. 

Exhaustion pulled at her limbs, heavier than the warm yukata wrapped around her, and she wasted no time crawling under the rightmost futon. The thick, cotton-filled blanket enveloped her in a cocoon of warmth, muffling the day’s events. With a quiet sigh, she turned on her side and went to sleep.

Half an hour later, the sliding door creaked open, and a gust of cool night air slipped inside as Naruto and Sasuke finally returned. Their footsteps were hushed but uneven, a mix of careful restraint and lingering energy. Both boys instinctively glanced toward Sakura’s still form, her soft, rhythmic breathing confirming she was already asleep.

Their eyes met. A silent understanding passed between them. And, as quietly as they could (which wasn’t very), they bolted toward the coveted futon in the center, filling the air with the rustle of fabric and the muted thuds of hurried movement.

Naruto lunged forward, almost stumbling over his own feet, while Sasuke darted in from the side with surprising agility. Unfortunately for Naruto, Sasuke was just a bit faster. 

“Hey, that’s my spot!” Naruto whispered loudly, his voice a harsh hush in the quiet room. He cast a wary glance at Sakura, who remained undisturbed, her breathing slow and even beneath the layers of her futon.

“Go sleep in the other one, idiot,” Sasuke muttered, his tone low but edged with finality. He had already claimed his spot and had no intention of moving.

Naruto scowled. “No way I’m letting you sleep next to her, bastard,” he shot back in a hushed voice.

“We’ve slept together for months now, so shut up.” 

Naruto bristled. His hands curled into the fabric of his pants, but with a final grumble, he plopped himself down—right between Sasuke and Sakura.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes. “Are you that much of an idiot?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not even lying on a futon.”

“Who said I have to?” Naruto huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m going to sleep right here.” The tatami floor was cool against his back, but he stubbornly ignored the discomfort.

“You’re still drunk; who knows what you’re going to do?” Sasuke countered

Naruto turned his head slightly, giving Sasuke a glare before mumbling, “I am her brother, and I’ve slept with her way longer than you have.” His tone was matter-of-fact, completely unaware of the unfortunate phrasing.

Sakura, already teetering on the edge of exhaustion, stirred as a muffled thud jolted her from her slumber. A groggy frown tugged at her lips as she slowly cracked open one eye at the commotion. She groaned softly and looked over her shoulder to find Naruto and Sasuke wrestling each other out of the futon next to her.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Sakura grabbed her pillow and started to shuffle out of the room. It wasn’t until she reached the doorway that the boys froze mid-scuffle, eyes darting toward her.

“Sakura-chan, where are you going?”

“I’m going to sleep somewhere else,” she slurred, wiping at her bleary eyes with the back of her hand. Her patience was utterly drained.

Sasuke, still half-pinned under Naruto’s arm, frowned. “There’s no other place to sleep,” he stated. “This is the last room available.”

Sakura just shrugged, her exhaustion overriding any concern for logistics. “You guys are too loud,” she mumbled, her shoulders drooping.

The two boys exchanged a look. They both understood that if they didn’t find a solution, it would be a lose-lose situation.

Promptly, Sasuke scooted over to the futon Sakura had abandoned, gesturing to the now-empty middle futon. “Sakura, come sleep over here.”

Naruto followed suit, hastily moving to the furthest futon on the left. His blankets crinkled as he settled in. “We’ll be quiet, Sakura-chan, we promise,” he said, his blue eyes wide with earnestness.

Sakura blinked sleepily at them, considering their offers. She rubbed at her eyes, stifling a yawn. Their sudden willingness to compromise was surprising, but their pleading expressions made it clear they were serious.

She hesitated, her fingers resting lightly on the wooden doorframe. The idea of leaving still lingered—of finding a quieter, undisturbed space where she could finally drift into unbroken sleep. But the warmth of the futon, its inviting softness, called to her. The thought of wandering the chilly hallways in search of an alternative seemed far less appealing.

With a sigh, she closed the door gently behind her and crawled into the middle futon where the boys had made space for her.

Silence once again filled the room as promised, but only for a few minutes until Naruto inevitably broke it by whispering.

“Sakura—”

“Don’t talk to me. I’m mad at you,” Sakura interrupted firmly, her voice edged with exhaustion and unmistakable annoyance.

Naruto flinched at the sharpness in her tone. “Wait, why? Because of what I said in the bath?”

Reminded of the embarrassing moment she was trying to forget, Sakura clicked her tongue in frustration but decided to address one issue at a time. “Because you lied to me about the co-ed bath.”

Naruto scratched his head, looking genuinely puzzled. “Wait, did you like or not like the co-ed bath?”

Sakura sighed heavily, feeling too drained to muster up another wave of anger. “Take a wild guess, Naruto.”

Naruto winced at the chill in Sakura’s tone. She definitely didn’t.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Sakura-chan, but it really wasn’t a secret!”

Sakura cracked open one eye, peering over at him. He had propped himself up on his elbow, his expression a mix of guilt and confusion, blue eyes wide with earnest regret.

“It was supposed to be… a surprise,” he finished lamely, his grin weak, his tone unsure.

Sakura furrowed her brow, lips pressing into a thin line. “And why, exactly, was it a surprise, Naruto?”

“Because I want to take a bath with you,” Naruto blurted out, his tone hopeful yet clumsy.

Sakura turned on her side and raised her fist, a gesture of both exasperation and readiness to enforce her point. Even Sasuke, who had been quietly listening, turned to glance in Naruto’s direction with open disgust. Yet, despite his judgmental stare, Sasuke didn’t consider himself a hypocrite. His own unfortunate encounter with Sakura in the bath had been an honest mistake—one beyond his control. That, he reasoned, was far more justifiable than Naruto’s outright intention.

Naruto instinctively used his free hand to shield his face as he attempted to explain himself. 

“Like a family does, Sakura-chan! Like we used to!” He pleaded. “Remember how we used to wash each other’s backs?”

Sasuke remained skeptical, but Sakura lowered her fist and let out a tired sigh. 

“Naruto,” she said, her tone gentler now, but firm. “We aren’t kids anymore. These kinds of things are a bit inappropriate at our age.”

Naruto’s shoulders slumped, his expression crestfallen as he looked down at the ground. 

“I thought you’d say that,” he mumbled, disappointed.

“I have , Naruto,” Sakura reminded him, her voice tinged with gentle exasperation. “Every single time you ask me to take a bath with you.”

Naruto fidgeted, frustration evident in his voice. “It’s just… I feel like we aren’t as close as we used to be, you know?”

“We hang out like every other week, Naruto,” she countered, trying to keep her voice even.

“Yeah, but you’ve been blowing me off recently, Sakura-chan,” Naruto insisted, his voice rising just a fraction. “We’re drifting apart!”

“First of all,” Sakura emphasized, forming a quotation mark in the air with her hand, “I blew you off twice, and you showed up on campus, thinking I was kidnapped.”

Naruto grumbled but didn’t deny it.

Sakura continued, undeterred. “Second of all, I have exams , Naruto. How many times do I have to remind you?”

Naruto squinted at her, suspicion creeping into his expression. “So you really do have exams? It wasn’t another one of your ‘I need to study’ excuses?”

Sakura’s lips twitched. Unbelievable.

It seemed that her initial, immediate acceptance of their previous beach trip had given Naruto the completely wrong idea that she would be free all the time, that she’d say yes to every single one of his spontaneous outings. He really was hopeless.

Instead of snapping at him, she reached over, her fingers deftly finding his cheek, and pinched it—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her point.

“Yes, Naruto. That’s why I agreed to this trip in the first place—to have a relaxing weekend before diving into serious studying.”

Sakura had expected Naruto to react to her pinch, but he only frowned. “That’s just it, though,” he began, his voice tinged with disappointment. “When we were kids, we were always together. But now, you have schoolwork, and I’m going to work and to school. It’s just not the same…”

Sakura’s heart softened at the sight of his dejected face. Naruto was always so bright and cheerful. Seeing him wear such a serious expression was rare and upsetting.

Attempting to soothe him, Sakura gently flattened her palm and cupped his cheek in her hand.

“That’s the thing about growing up, Naruto,” Sakura murmured softly. “Everyone is on different paths now, so it’s going to be hard to have things the way they used to be.”

His gaze flickered up to meet hers, blue eyes clouded with a mix of understanding and sorrow. He placed his hand over hers, fingers tracing gentle circles on one of her knuckles. “I know,” he sighed.

“But I don’t think you have to worry too much about that,” Sakura continued, a hint of reassurance threading through her voice. “Because I think I’m going to take your offer to work at Ichiraku.”

“Wait, really?” Naruto’s eyes widened in surprise, sparkling with excitement. The shift in his mood was palpable, like a cloud lifting to reveal the sun after a long storm.

Sakura smiled warmly, her heart swelling at his reaction, and nodded. She spread her arms wide, inviting him for a hug, which Naruto eagerly accepted, leaning over to wrap his arms around her. The sudden movement caused Sakura to roll onto her back, laughter bubbling up as she found herself unexpectedly sprawled on the futon.

“If you’re still complaining after this, though, I think it’s time you get a girlfriend,” Sakura teased, her tone playful as she gently ran her fingers through Naruto’s messy hair, feeling the soft strands slip through her fingers.

Naruto snorted softly, his laughter warm and infectious. “Thanks, Sakura-chan,” he replied, a hint of a grin on his face that lit up his features.

“You’re welcome.” Sakura patted Naruto’s back, signaling the end of the hug and suggesting he get off. But Naruto remained unmoved, his weight pressing down on her in a comforting, albeit awkward, embrace.

“Naruto, get off of me; you’re heavy.”

“It’s comfortable here,” Naruto replied with a contented sigh, his warmth radiating against her as he nestled in closer, oblivious to her protests.

Sakura attempted to pry his hand off her, but he remained stubbornly in place, a defiant grin on his face. With a huff, she grabbed his head and pushed it toward his futon, exerting just enough force to coax him back. To her relief, his body rolled over, shifting back into his own space.

“Go to sleep, Naruto. I’m tired,” Sakura said firmly, her voice softening as fatigue washed over her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Naruto replied obediently, a teasing lilt in his tone.

Sakura turned away after that, signaling the end of their conversation. Despite this, Naruto scooted part of his body onto her futon and wrapped an arm around her stomach. Sakura felt a mix of irritation and warmth as she accepted his presence, the weight of his arm settling over her like a cozy blanket.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke didn’t know when he had drifted off while listening to Sakura and Naruto’s late-night conversation. The next morning, he awoke to the absence of sunlight and a soft weight resting on his arm. Cracking open an eye, Sasuke found strands of pink hair scattered over him, tickling his face and clinging to his upper arm like a delicate veil. A sense of déjà vu washed over him.

On the other side of the room, Sasuke noticed Naruto’s pillows lying askew near the door. It appeared that at some point during the night, Naruto had taken Sakura’s pillow to replace his own missing one. In her sleep, Sakura must have sought something to prop her head up, and Sasuke’s arm seemed to have been the closest available option.

He had always wondered, but now he knew for certain that her hair was as soft as it looked, each strand fragrant with her familiar, comforting scent. The way the gentle morning light seemed to highlight her features made his heart flutter unexpectedly.

Tenderly, Sasuke’s gaze traced the soft arch of Sakura’s brow, noting the faintest freckle just above it, the delicate curve of her little button nose, and the subtle upturn of her lips at the corners. In that serene moment, Sasuke closed his eyes, wishing silently that he could wake up to this image every morning.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

It was Sakura who woke up a few hours later, feeling completely invigorated. As she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw that morning was Sasuke’s chiseled face up close, his features relaxed and unguarded. Sakura nearly held her breath when she realized the sleeping position the three of them had been in all night.

Pressing her lips together to stifle any noise, Sakura carefully slid out from under the blanket and extricated herself from Naruto’s arm. She was relieved to have woken up before either of them. Dealing with the boys’ teasing was something she could do without today.

Gathering her things quietly, Sakura tiptoed out of the room and decided to treat herself to a dip in the hot bath, her relaxing plan from yesterday having been rudely interrupted. The warm water easily eased her muscles, and she returned with a cold drink in hand, feeling refreshed and renewed.

Upon reentering the room, Sakura noticed Naruto had taken her place, now sleeping with his arms wrapped around Sasuke. Silently, she pulled out her phone and pressed the camera button. This would be the picture she cherished and fiercely defended in her phone album. 

Already, it felt like a promising start to the new year for Sakura.

Chapter Text

The crowd surged around them like a restless tide. The air was filled with a cacophony of voices and the distant rumble of departing trains. Shisui felt the warmth of bodies brushing against him, an almost suffocating closeness that heightened his senses.

He rarely took on this task himself, as it was typically the job of his lackey to attract customers with flashy smiles and practiced charm. In fact, he wasn’t even on duty at the moment. It was purely by coincidence that he found himself walking in the same direction as her as they navigated their way out of the labyrinthine station.

She was quite pretty in her own right—not someone he would describe as drop-dead gorgeous, but her pink hair certainly made her stand out in a way that was hard to ignore. The vivid color easily caught the light, creating a striking contrast against the duller hues of the bustling station and the sea of monochrome outfits that surrounded them. The way her hair danced with every slight movement drew his gaze, pulling him in like a moth to a flame.

She wore a blue oversized jacket that draped casually over her frame, its soft fabric swallowing her figure and concealing most of her outfit. But beneath it, he caught glimpses of a crisp white t-shirt neatly tucked into a pair of shorts that peeked out from above black tights

What captivated him further was the way she ambled along, her eyes flitting between her surroundings and the glowing screen of her phone. There was an air of vulnerability in her furrowed brow as she scrolled, clearly lost and in need of assistance.

Tokyo was a sprawling metropolis, its streets a dizzying maze that could overwhelm even the most seasoned traveler. From the look on her face, he could tell she wasn’t familiar with this part of the city—if she was even a local at all. The city was notorious for chewing up the unprepared, and she definitely appeared to be a prime candidate for its chaos. 

If he had gained anything from his jobs, it was the uncanny ability to recognize a good target when he saw one. Her demeanor—the way she glanced around, her brow furrowed in concentration—made her an easy mark for someone looking to offer assistance, and even something more. When he spotted an opening in the throng of people, he seized it without hesitation.

Quickening his pace, Shisui closed the distance between them in just a few strides, his heart racing with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He stepped into her line of sight, a friendly smile breaking across his face as he spoke, “Hey there, do you need help? You seem a bit lost.” The words came out smoothly, almost instinctively, as he gauged her reaction, eager to see if she would respond to his overture with relief or skepticism.

The girl jumped slightly at the unexpected voice, her eyes widening as she looked up from her phone. For a fleeting moment, their gazes locked, and Shisui noticed the way her big, round eyes lingered on his, a flicker of recognition sparking within them, as if she were trying to place him in a context that was just out of reach. But then, almost as quickly as it appeared, that look vanished, replaced by a fleeting expression of uncertainty that caused her to avert her gaze.

“Oh, um…no, thank you,” she replied, her voice soft yet polite, accompanied by a slight bow of her head in apology. She quickly turned back to her phone, her fingers hovering hesitantly above the screen.

This reaction was a good sign; it confirmed his assumption was correct. After all, any woman who frequented this station—or even this area—was likely accustomed to being approached. They typically brushed off unwanted advances with practiced ease, often quickening their pace to distance themselves from the source of their discomfort. But she didn’t do that. The uncertainty in her posture, the slight tremble in her voice, all pointed to the possibility that he could crack her. 

With a gentle smile, he leaned a little closer, lowering his voice slightly, inviting her to engage. “Are you sure? I’ve lived here a long time, and I know the area pretty well. Maybe I can help you find your way.” His tone was casual, laced with a hint of charm, hoping to draw her out of her shell.

This time, however, there was no answer. He watched her closely, assessing the situation anew.

Perhaps she does have some experience with being approached after all. 

But he decided to press on, his instincts urging him not to give up just yet. “If you have some free time, let’s go have some tea,” he tried again, his voice warm and inviting, but still, no answer came.

Despite her silence, his persistence seemed to have some effect. She paused, looking around at her surroundings as if searching for the path to her exit. Her body language shifted slightly, an internal struggle flickering across her features. Then she glanced down at her phone again, her eyes darting between the station signs and the map on her screen, brows furrowing deeper in confusion.

Shisui, of course, noticed the blatant fact that she was uninterested in him. Yet the stubbornness and growing frustration that flickered across her face were so comical to him that he felt compelled to keep this up just a bit longer just to see what she would do.

“You’re going to the street near Kabukicho, right?” Shisui asked after a quick glance at her phone screen. “I actually work nearby; let me accompany you.”

Meanwhile, Sakura had dressed warmly today due to the chilly weather, but now, surrounded by this bustling crowd and constantly pestered by this insistent pretty boy, she was feeling suffocated in her own clothes. The heat from the throng of commuters and her growing irritation was making it hard to think. She adjusted her jacket and tried to focus on her phone, desperately hoping to find her way out quickly.

What is his deal? 

Sakura didn’t get approached much since she had moved to Tokyo, but that was partly because she consciously avoided the city center, preferring quieter streets where she could navigate the chaos with less anxiety. Most of her previous encounters with persistent strangers had ended quickly after she had given them the silent treatment, but this one was proving to be particularly relentless. She had hoped that by ignoring him, he would take the hint and move on, but this man seemed undeterred by her lack of response, his unwavering charm only intensifying her frustration.

She shouldn’t have replied to him in the first place, but she was still getting used to the unspoken rules of city life, especially when it came to ignoring people she didn’t want to engage with. She had been taught all her life that ignoring others was rude, and old habits die hard. It also didn’t help that she was genuinely caught off guard when he first approached her.

That was when Sakura thought about the trick Naruto had taught her. She really didn’t like lying, but if she didn’t do something now, she would probably get dragged away by the police for punching a man in about a few minutes if this guy decided to keep this up. 

Shisui watched with interest as her demeanor shifted. She stood a bit straighter, her expression hardening as if she had made up her mind about something. Then, to his surprise, she spoke in what he could discern was Cantonese, her tone assertive.

Shisui furrowed his brow in confusion, the unexpected language throwing him off balance. He had been expecting her to resort to a more common response, but instead, she smiled cheekily, hands on her hips, clearly feeling victorious in this newfound strategy. Her confidence was amusing, but that quickly transformed into genuine laughter from him, catching her off guard.

“(Are you trying to order chicken and rice? This is not a restaurant, you know?)” Shisui answered her in her chosen language. 

Even though Sakura didn’t know Cantonese, she had heard her mother speak it enough times to recognize that this man standing in front of her was positively fluent in the language. She had thought she could confuse him enough to make him give up; after all, many people were wary of communicating with foreigners who didn’t speak their language. But her plan had somehow backfired spectacularly.

Meanwhile, Shisui couldn’t help chuckling as he watched her green eyes widen and a blush crept up her cheeks. He half-expected the girl to lash out in embarrassment, but instead, she quickly scanned her surroundings, desperation flickering in her eyes as she sought the nearest exit. In a burst of instinct, she turned on her heel and made a run for it.

“Take the West exit to your left!” Shisui yelled after her. He doubted she heard him over the noisy crowd, but there was something amusing about the whole encounter that made him grin.

To his surprise, just before she stepped out of the wrong exit, she halted abruptly. After backtracking a few steps, she turned left toward the west exit, exactly as he had instructed.

As she disappeared into the throng, Shisui couldn’t help but shake his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. 

Shisui never had a girl run away from him so scared and flustered before. How cute.

It was rare to find someone who could catch him off guard like that. Though she had evaded him for now, he felt an unexpected thrill of excitement at the prospect of their paths crossing again—especially if the curious jacket she wore was of any indication.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

It had been several hours since her embarrassing encounter at the station, but Sakura’s face still burned every time she thought about it. No matter how hard she tried to push it from her mind, the memory of that smirking, insufferably persistent man kept creeping back in. 

Naruto had even mistaken her lingering fluster for a fever when he saw her, fussing over her with exaggerated concern. But she had been too shocked—and frankly, too mortified—to explain the real reason for her flushed face. After all, it was Naruto’s idiotic strategies that had led to that humiliating moment in the first place.

Finally home, she let out a deep sigh as she unlocked the door to her apartment, ready to collapse and put the entire ordeal behind her. But the moment she stepped inside, she almost bumped into a solid figure blocking the doorway.

Her roommate stood there like an immovable wall, arms crossed, a deep scowl etched onto his face. His sharp eyes locked onto her, scrutinizing her in a way that made her pause.

“Where have you been?” His voice was low and edged with irritation, as if she had committed some kind of crime.

Sakura blinked, thrown off by the unexpected interrogation. Instead of answering immediately, she glanced around the room, half-expecting to find a hidden camera or some kind of prank waiting to unfold. This was the second time today she had been completely blindsided by someone’s reaction. Admittedly, twice wasn’t a lot, but it was odd that it had happened all in the same day.

“At Ichiraku?” Sakura stretched out her words, uncertainty lacing her voice as she tried to gauge Sasuke’s reaction. “Ayame had an emergency and needed someone to cover her shift.”

Sasuke’s scowl deepened, his arms tightening across his chest. “Do you even know what time it is? It’s already dark out.”

He wasn’t wrong. She had been out late a few times before, but this was the latest she had ever been. Still, it wasn’t like she had been doing anything reckless.

It was strange watching Sasuke like this, standing in her doorway, looking as if he had been waiting just to scold her. There was something oddly nostalgic about it, something that reminded her of the stern talks her mother used to give her when she stayed out past curfew. 

Sakura could sense Sasuke trying to maintain his composure, yet his frustration seeped through his voice. Sakura swallowed, feeling an odd weight settle in her chest. She wasn’t sure what she had done wrong, but there was a sinking feeling in her stomach telling her she wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed.

It was true that their neighborhood could be a bit seedy, but Sakura had always been cautious. She knew which streets to avoid, which shortcuts were the safest, and she never walked alone with her earphones in or her guard down. Despite the occasional disturbances—like the noisy bike gangs that tore through the streets late at night—the area was more of a nuisance than a real danger.

“Are you angry? Didn’t I reply to your text already?” She asked, slipping off her shoes as she furrowed her brow and scrolled through their text exchanges.

Sure enough, Sasuke had messaged her just before she headed to Ichiraku, and she had responded, informing him that she probably wouldn’t be back for dinner.

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. “That was hours ago, Sakura, you didn’t pick up any of my calls.”

Sasuke followed her into the main room, his arms still tightly crossed, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. She could feel his gaze on her as she set her bag down with a sigh.

“It’s rude to answer calls on the train, Sasuke-kun. You taught me that.”

Sasuke’s scowl deepened, bewildered by his roommate’s nonchalant behavior, but he had no immediate retort. He had told her that before, but that wasn’t the point right now.

Deep down, he knew he couldn’t blame her. After all, he had chosen not to share what he knew with her, just as Naruto had decided to keep it under wraps.

He recognized that his unease stemmed from the paranoia associated with that knowledge, a burden she blissfully remained unaware of, as she should. Sakura was the only normality in his life, and he was determined not to let his fucked-up family corrupt her. Getting irrationally angry with her wouldn’t protect her. It would only drive her away.

Sasuke let out a deep breath, forcing himself to release the last of his frustration. His arms dropped to his sides, and the tension in his shoulders eased, though the concern still lingered in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice quieter this time. “It wasn’t really my place to raise my voice at you like that.”

I was just worried, he thought, but didn’t voice it out loud. 

Sakura raised a brow at Sasuke’s sudden change in demeanor. It was already unlike him to snap over something so trivial, but it was even more perplexing that he had apologized so quickly. When a minute passed and he didn’t offer up any explanation—something she didn’t really expect, given his reserved nature—Sakura sighed softly, realizing her own part in the situation.

“I’m sorry, too, for making you worry,” she murmured, her voice gentler now, tinged with quiet remorse. “I’ll make sure to answer all your calls from now on.”

Sakura gave Sasuke a reassuring smile, and he seemed visibly relieved by her response. Sensing that the tension had eased, Sakura thought this was as good a time as any to break the news to him.

“But I also want to let you know that I’ll be coming home later in the future after my shift at Ichiraku,” Sakura said, her voice steady but laced with a hint of nervousness. She braced herself for his reaction.

As expected, Sasuke’s expression hardened, a familiar tension knotting his jaw. He pressed his lips into a thin line, the muscle in his cheek twitching slightly as he battled his frustration.

“How late is ‘later’?” He asked, his tone more controlled than before, but she could still feel the undercurrent of concern.

“Probably around this time,” Sakura replied, her heart racing as she watched him carefully for any signs of anger.

“Where is this place again?” He asked, his voice flat as if he were trying to maintain a sense of detachment.

“Ten minutes from the Shinjuku West exit.”

Sasuke sucked in a long breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. He closed his eyes, a heavy sigh escaping his lips—one that echoed with the weight of resignation. The gesture reminded Sakura of her mother contemplating whether to give in to one of her whims, a mix of frustration and reluctant acceptance, only to regret it immediately. Sasuke then walked across the main room and pulled out a small can from the closet. Returning to her, he pushed it into her hands.

“Carry this with you,” he said firmly, his voice brokering no argument.

Sakura studied the can in her hand, her brow furrowing as she processed what he had just offered to her. “I can’t carry around pepper spray, Sasuke-kun, that’s illegal!” She quickly returned it to him, the cold metal slipping from her fingers as if it were a live wire.

“This is just in case of an emergency,” he insisted.

“No way! How did you even get this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sasuke replied curtly, avoiding her gaze.

Sakura wanted to pry deeper into the mystery of how he had come to possess pepper spray, but she knew her roommate wouldn’t divulge anything. She could see the tension coiling in his shoulders, the way he strained to mask his worry behind a stern expression, his brows knitted together in determination.

“I’m not carrying it with me, Sasuke-kun, and that’s final!” She declared, refusing to budge on the issue.

Sasuke looked like he still wanted to argue, the fire of contention flickering in his dark gaze as he stared her down. But eventually, he relented, a heavy sigh escaping him as he turned away to put the canister back in the closet. He knew better than to challenge her when that resolute look was set in her eyes.

“Fine,” he gritted out, his voice taut with suppressed frustration.

Sakura softened at his concession. “I appreciate you worrying about me, Sasuke-kun,” she said gently, hoping to ease the tension that still lingered in the air. “But I’ll be fine. In fact, I’ve been fine.”

“You’re tiny,” he muttered, a hint of exasperation threading through his voice.

It was only two words, but they struck a nerve. Sakura hated that she was suddenly acutely aware of her stature, a flush creeping into her cheeks. She was not particularly short for a girl her age, yet being around towering figures like Naruto and Sasuke always made her feel small and delicate.

Straightening her posture, Sakura planted both hands on her hips and pushed out her chest. “But I’m tougher than I look, and you know that,” she declared, eyes gleaming with conviction.

Sasuke did know that, but knowing and accepting were two different things, and he couldn’t help but be worried. He had witnessed her tears before, seen the fear in her eyes when she was lost in the dark, stranded without a way to contact him. Logically, he knew she wasn’t helpless. He had seen her wield strength more than a tiny girl could handle and possess a determination that knew no bounds. But that was precisely the reason why he feared she might get herself into trouble, especially with certain type of people. The kind who wouldn’t be deterred by a girl who thought she could handle herself. 

Even when his gaze swept over her now, taking in the sight of her confident stance—chin lifted, shoulders squared, a determined fire in her expression—it just didn’t scream threatening to him. In fact, to his utter frustration, his first thought wasn’t about how tough she looked but how adorable she was trying to appear. If this is his reaction, then what the hell was running through other men’s heads when they looked at her? 

The realization made something dark coil in his chest, something possessive and protective that he had no idea how to suppress. He hated it. Hated that he even had to think this way. But the world was cruel, and men like that existed—ones who wouldn’t be swayed by her strength, only emboldened by it. He would know. Had known them all his life. They might even view her more as a challenge to conquer. 

How could he stop this?

Sasuke exhaled through his nose, pushing down the frustration curling in his chest. He knew he couldn’t fight every battle for her, but that didn’t mean he would stand by and do nothing.

“You can keep that,” he said abruptly, motioning his chin toward her.

Sakura raised a questioning eyebrow. “Keep what?”

“My jacket,” Sasuke replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

Confused, she glanced down at herself, finally registering the familiar weight draped over her shoulders. The material was oversized on her frame, the sleeves hanging past her wrists. She had been in such a hurry to leave earlier that she must have grabbed his jacket off the hook near the door instead of hers. She hadn’t even noticed until now.

“I’m so sorry, Sasuke-kun, I really didn’t mean to steal it,” Sakura blurted out, feeling a bit flustered as she hurriedly slipped her arms out of the oversized jacket. “I was late, and I didn’t notice, and I was going to tell you, honestly—”

Her words tumbled out in a rush, her fingers working quickly to fold the jacket, smoothing out the creases before holding it out for him to take. But Sasuke barely spared it a glance before shaking his head and pushing it back toward her.

“I mean what I said; take it.”

Sakura paused, glancing down at the bundle in her hands. The fabric was still warm, still carried his scent—a scent she hadn’t even realized she associated with comfort until now.

Looking up, she searched his expression, hoping for some explanation, some indication of why he was so readily giving her this jacket that he wore almost every day. But Sasuke, as always, was unreadable.

Slowly, Sakura hugged the folded jacket to her chest, fingers curling around the fabric. “Are you sure?” She asked again, needing reassurance.

Sasuke exhaled through his nose, as if her question was unnecessary, and nodded.

“Wear it to your part-time job.”

Sasuke observed as Sakura’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, holding his jacket a little tighter. The sight stirred a quiet, knowing triumph that he didn’t bother to name.

“Okay,” she replied softly, her gaze flickering toward their shared closet. A contemplative look crossed her face before she turned back to him, determination replacing her initial shyness. “Then you can have this.”

Sasuke stepped aside as Sakura rummaged through her side of the closet, eventually tugging out an oversized, painfully bright orange jacket that clearly dwarfed her frame.

“This used to be Naruto’s jac—”

“I don’t want the dope’s secondhand,” Sasuke cut in, his voice sharp as a blade. His face darkened into a scowl, shadows pooling under his furrowed brow. Then, with a flicker of disdain, he reached out, fingers flexing. “Actually, give it to me so I can burn it.”

Sakura huffed, pouting as she shoved the jacket back into the closet before Sasuke could make good on his threat. A flicker of disappointment settled in her chest—she had hoped, perhaps naively, that he might consider it if he knew it was from the men’s section. But, of course, she had underestimated the sheer depth of his aversion to anything even remotely connected to Naruto.

“Alright then,” she sighed, glancing around for another option. “I don’t have anything else that might fit you, except maybe this…”

She pulled a familiar red t-shirt from a folded pile, shaking it out so it caught the dim light. A small white circle was embroidered on the right breast, simple yet distinct. Sasuke’s sharp gaze landed on it instantly; recognition flickered in his dark eyes.

It was one of Sakura’s summer pajama tops—the kind she wore on warm nights, paired with soft cotton shorts. The fabric was thin, well-worn, carrying the faintest trace of her floral scent.

“Is this another one of the dope’s?” Sasuke asked skeptically, eyeing the fabric as if it might offend him by mere proximity.

Sakura huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t just steal people’s clothes, you know. I’ve had this one since—”

Sakura’s sentence was cut short when Sasuke snatched the shirt from her grip in one swift motion. The suddenness of it stole her breath, and before she could react, he was already pulling his own shirt over his head.

Sakura froze.

Her brain barely processed what was happening—one moment, he was standing there in his usual cold indifference, and the next, his toned torso was on full display. Muscles shifted and flexed beneath skin, the defined lines of his shoulders rolling as he tugged the soft fabric down over his frame. His movements were quick and entirely unbothered. Sakura, on the other hand, was anything but.

Her breath hitched, eyes betraying her as they followed the way the shirt settled against his form, how it clung just a little too well.

Realizing herself at last, she tore her gaze away, glaring up at him with a face flushed in mortified indignation. Her lips formed a pout, as if daring him to call her out for staring when he had been the one stripping in front of her like it was nothing. Sasuke met her gaze, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His dark eyes gleamed with feigned innocence, but the amusement lingering there told her he had noticed everything.

“It’s mine now. No take-backs,” Sasuke declared, his tone final.

Sakura let out an exaggerated exhale, whipping her head away as if looking at him any longer would only fuel her frustration. “You are unbelievable,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Sasuke’s smirk widened into a full grin, rare and fleeting, as he watched her retreat into the bathroom—his jacket still clutched tightly in her arms. He didn’t need to say it aloud; he already knew she’d wear it every day now.

What he didn’t disclose to her was that his mother had given him that jacket, and it was one of the few pieces of clan-related clothing he possessed. Despite its unassuming design, it bore the Uchiha clan crest, discreetly embroidered on the back of the right sleeve—a subtle mark of lineage.

To most, it was just a jacket, a simple, dark layer that wouldn’t warrant a second glance. But for those who were in the same world he was, it should be able to deter unwanted attention.

Obviously, it was not an ideal solution, as Sasuke would rather Sakura not be out so late working in the first place, especially in Kabukicho. But knowing she was wrapped in his jacket, shielded by something that belonged to him, granted him a small, fleeting sense of peace. Perhaps the familiar, comforting scent from his newly obtained shirt might have played a part in placating him. 

Without thinking, Sasuke’s fingers curled around the neckline. He brought it closer, inhaling deeply, letting her scent settle into his senses. It was grounding in a way he couldn’t quite explain. That was when he made his decision. He would wash this shirt along with the rest of Sakura’s laundry. Unbeknownst to him, Sakura was having similar thoughts about his jacket.

The next morning, Sakura left the apartment wearing her newly obtained jacket. She wore it just yesterday but somehow it felt a bit different on her shoulder today. It wasn’t until she was standing in line at the crowded station, waiting for the train, that her fingers brushed against something in the right pocket. Curiosity piqued, she fished it out. 

Sakura wasn’t sure what she expected it to be, but she sure as hell wasn’t prepared to pull out a pocket knife, an item that was very much as illegal, if not more so, than pepper sprays. She quickly stuffed the knife back into her pocket, a mix of irritation and disbelief coursing through her as she silently cursed her roommate. She had a strong suspicion that the first person she might use that knife on would likely be its rightful owner.

Meanwhile, Sasuke was having a very restful and worry-free day, but only until that evening.

Chapter Text

Sakura wasn’t used to going on dates. Throughout senior high, she had only been on two, both forgettable, neither leading to anything meaningful. Her fleeting relationship dissolved into nothing before it even had the chance to bloom.

Pausing on her task, she stole a glance at Sasuke, still deep in slumber on his side of the room. His arm rested over his eyes, shielding them from the golden slants of sunlight creeping through the curtains.

Does he have a date to go to today?

Despite their growing closeness and the trust between them, Sasuke remained intensely private. He seldom spoke about his family. Even mentions of his brother were always fleeting when asked, as if the topic itself was a door he refused to open. So, it wouldn’t surprise Sakura if he harbored a secret girlfriend all this time.

Especially at school, Sasuke was frequently surrounded by girls from his class. Sakura often felt the urge to approach him, to make their relationship more overt, but she always restrained herself. After all, they both adhered strictly to their number one rule: not to complicate their living arrangements. A single fleeting moment of public acknowledgment could jeopardize everything.

In that moment, as if sensing her gaze, Sasuke stirred, prompting Sakura to quickly retreat behind the bathroom wall. She pushed thoughts of Sasuke aside; right now, she needed to focus on herself.

She had begun her preparations early, anticipating challenges with her makeup and knowing she would need every spare minute to steady her nerves.

This was her own fault, Sakura admitted. A bad habit of being too agreeable, too easily persuaded, especially when money was involved. But with medical school on the horizon, she couldn’t afford to be picky about opportunities to pad her savings. According to Ino, all she had to do was sit through a harmless coffee date—two hours at most. The pay was generous, the task simple. The only catch? She would need to impersonate Ino. After all, the profile displayed on the papakatsu agency website was of Ino. 

Sakura had quickly become familiar with her classmate’s mannerisms after just six months together. She had honed her impression of Ino so well from annoying her friends that she felt confident she could pull it off when Ino asked for a favor. But now, standing before the mirror, she hesitated with the blonde wig in her hand. Even so, the people-pleasing tendency in her was insisted that backing out now would be worse than the discomfort twisting inside her chest. 

Time was slipping away, and she had already lost an entire night to anxious overthinking. This morning had been dedicated to meticulous preparation, down to the smallest details—including stuffing her bra to compensate for the fact that Ino was, annoyingly, a size larger than her.

Sakura closed her eyes, her nerves fluttering like trapped butterflies in her chest. She inhaled deeply, letting the cool air fill her lungs, then exhaled slowly, trying to quiet the tremor in her hands and the rapid beat of her heart.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was met with a stranger’s gaze.

Or rather, Ino’s.

The blonde wig framed her face just right. The reflection staring back at her felt both familiar and foreign. Ino’s makeup—bold liner, sculpted cheekbones, lips painted a shade too daring for Sakura’s usual taste—was flawless. Yet, as she scrutinized herself, a whisper of doubt crept in.

Would her date notice the slight differences? The way her posture wasn’t quite as effortless, the way her expressions weren’t as naturally flirtatious? Would he catch the telltale hesitations, the tiny cracks in the illusion? She hoped fervently that he hadn’t studied Ino’s profile picture too closely.

Glancing at the clock, Sakura realized she needed to leave soon if she wanted to arrive at the meeting spot before her date. Hastily, she tidied up her makeup station, grabbed the elegant handbag Ino had lent her, and slipped into the heels borrowed from her friend. She barely took a step before a voice cut through the quiet.

“What are you doing?”

Her breath hitched as she turned, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Sasuke usually slept in on Saturdays—a habit she had been counting on. Yet here he was, awake, sitting up in his futon still, watching her. 

Panic coiled in her stomach. Explaining her current disguise to Naruto would be challenging enough; he could be reasoned with, albeit with some effort. But Sasuke was another matter entirely. His skepticism and piercing scrutiny made convincing him a daunting prospect, one Sakura dreaded more than anything.

In fact, she had made up her mind that neither of them needed to know, but when had her plan ever gone as intended?

"I'm... cosplaying,” she said, forcing the words out with as much confidence as she could muster—which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

Sasuke’s eyebrow arched, his disbelief palpable.

“Cosplaying?”

His sharp gaze swept over her, from the blonde wig to the dark heels she was still adjusting to. She stood before him in a loose, dark purple dress, a light cream cardigan draped over her shoulders, a cinched belt accentuating her waist. A matching purple handbag dangled from her fingers, completing the look. It was a stark departure from Sakura’s usual attire of practical tops, well-worn jeans, and sneakers built for long hours of studying and walking. 

Sasuke’s frown deepened, and Sakura swallowed hard.

He wasn’t buying it. But Sakura didn’t linger long enough for Sasuke to pick apart her flimsy excuse or, worse, notice the real reason behind her transformation. Before he could press further, she was already moving toward the door.

“I’m bringing the pocketknife,” she announced, flashing the small blade just long enough to prove her point before tucking it securely into her purse. “I’ll be back by noon!”

With that, she turned on her heel and hurried out, the door clicking shut behind her with a decisive click. Sasuke remained seated on his futon, staring after her, utterly bewildered.

At least she’s bringing the knife, Sasuke reassured himself and tried not to dwell too much on why she suddenly changed her stance when she’d been so adamantly against carrying it before.

True to his high-profile status, her date—or rather, Ino’s date—had chosen an imposing location for their meeting: a towering, glass-clad office building in the heart of Omotesandō. Its sleek, modern design loomed over her. Only then did it hit her—aside from the time and location, she knew nothing about the man she was supposed to meet.

Between perfecting Ino’s mannerisms and obsessing over her disguise, she had completely forgotten to check his profile, let alone Ino’s. Idiot! A wave of unease crept up her spine as she reached for her phone, fingers fumbling with the clasp of her purse. But before she could retrieve it, a tall figure emerged from the crowd.

There was no hesitation in his movements—just an easy confidence, the kind that turned heads without effort. His suit, sharp and immaculately tailored, spoke of wealth and refinement, making him look like he belonged here in this affluent district, while she…

She barely had time to think before a deep voice cut through the noise around her.

“Excuse me.”

Sakura turned—and immediately found herself looking up.

The man towered over her, easily a head taller. His long, unruly hair cascaded past his broad shoulders, framing a sharp, defined jawline. Deep lines etched his face—not unkind, but unmistakably shaped by experience, marking him as someone well into his thirties. But it was his eyes that rooted her in place. Dark and unreadable, they studied her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. Then he spoke.

“You must be Yamanaka-san.”

Sakura stiffened.

Was this her date? She had no way of knowing. She had no clue who she was supposed to meet without reading his profile. But then again, how many other sugar babies were meeting their sugar daddies at this exact time and place?

“H-hi, yes, I am, nice to meet you Mr….”

The man gave her a quizzical look, his dark eyes narrowing for a moment before he answered, as if deciding whether to let her off the hook. “Uchiha Madara.”

Uchiha? Was that a coincidence, or was this surname far more common than she had realized?

“Are you okay, Yamanaka-san?” His tone wasn’t unkind, but there wasn’t a hint of real concern either—just quiet observation, as though he were more curious than worried.

Sakura quickly regained her composure, forcing a smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. I’m not good with names,” she replied, hoping her response sounded more convincing than it felt.

Madara’s gaze lingered on her, inscrutable and sharp, as though he were taking in every detail. It wasn’t overtly rude, but the thoroughness of his scrutiny made her feel like she was being examined—like some object to be assessed rather than a person to be met.

Her skin prickled slightly under his gaze, but just as quickly, he turned, gesturing toward the tall office building behind them. His long hair swayed slightly as he moved, and Sakura noticed faint scars along his jawline—thin, well-worn marks that gave his otherwise composed demeanor an unexpected, rugged edge.

Sakura nodded, managing a smile that she hoped didn’t come across as too forced. Her confidence in impersonating Ino was shrinking with each passing second and she silently prayed that this initial meeting would be brief.

Although the exterior of the building appeared to be just another sleek office structure, its interior was something entirely different—something that took her by surprise. The moment she stepped through the entrance, Sakura felt a wave of awe wash over her, forcing her to stifle a gasp.

The marble floors shimmered under the soft, warm glow of crystal chandeliers that hung from impossibly high ceilings. The opulence of the space was breathtaking—plush velvet curtains framed tall windows that let in just enough light to give the room an ethereal glow. The air itself seemed to carry a subtle fragrance of jasmine, a scent so delicate it was almost intoxicating.

Sakura followed Madara as he led her to a lounge, the soft red carpet beneath their feet muting the sound of their steps. Elegantly framed sofas and tables accented with gold trimmings completed the lavish setting.

Sakura wasn’t used to places like this. The only frame of reference she had was what she’d seen in movies—lounges like this were where powerful men met to discuss high-stakes business with their most trusted partners. Yet, this lounge was far larger than anything she’d imagined, its spaciousness almost overwhelming. It struck her as odd that they were the only ones present, though she didn’t mind. Being alone in such a luxurious environment felt like stepping into a realm far beyond her own.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a place like this before,” Sakura remarked, her voice betraying a mix of awe and uncertainty as she glanced around at the opulent surroundings.

Madara chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his throat that bordered on a scoff. There was an almost mocking amusement in his gaze, as if he found it entertaining how easily she was impressed.

“Your profile said you’d enjoy places like these,” he said smoothly. “And I like to give my baby only the best.”

“Right, my profile... that’s definitely what I put on my profile,” Sakura replied, inwardly cringing at her own nervous rambling. 

Ino is confident in herself and what she wants. Play the part, Sakura.

Madara guided her toward the bar, his large hand warm and steady as it gently helped her into a stool. It was then that she became acutely aware of their size difference.

Oh no, Sasuke was right—I am tiny.

A wave of self-consciousness washed over her, but she quickly pushed it aside. She had to focus.

Once seated, Madara ordered a strong liquor on ice. When the bartender turned to her, Sakura felt pangs of panic. So much for a coffee date. If she couldn’t keep her composure while sober, this entire charade would unravel the moment she loosened her lips.

Her mind scrambled for a drink she could confidently name. She wasn’t familiar with the fancy cocktails Madara might expect, but then a memory flickered from a movie she’d seen.

“I’ll have a Cosmopolitan, virgin, please. Thank you.”

The bartender quickly poured Madara’s drink, a smooth, amber-colored liquor that swirled over ice with a satisfying clink. With a flick of his wrist, Madara stirred the glass with practiced ease, the ice shifting gently as he studied her. Meanwhile, Sakura focused on her own drink, wrapping her fingers around the cool glass as if anchoring herself. She lifted it slowly, letting the condensation dampen her fingertips—anything to distract from the intensity of the man watching her.

“Are you going to have me drink by myself today, Yamanaka-san?” Madara asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Sakura hesitated, feeling the weight of her lie. Summoning a sheepish smile, she replied, “I’m really sorry; I can’t hold my liquor very well.”

Madara took a leisurely sip, his dark eyes not leaving her as he studied her over the rim of his glass. His expression was unreadable, and the silence stretched just long enough to make her skin prickle.

“Weird,” he said, his tone casual yet sharp. “That’s not what your profile said.”

The fucking profile! 

“I... don’t feel well today,” she offered, her voice strained with nerves as she attempted to deflect his suspicions.

Madara’s gaze didn’t waver. He nodded slowly, the chill in his expression cutting through the air. “Weird. That’s not what your profile said either.”

Sakura’s smile faltered, the words sinking into her chest like stones. Did she hear him right? “Sorry, I don’t quite understand what you mean by that.”

Madara’s eyes darkened, his expression turning colder by the second. He leaned in slightly, his posture stiffening with quiet authority. “Do you take me for a fool?” His tone was like ice, every syllable cutting sharper than the last.

Sakura froze as Madara straightened up, his tall figure now looming over her like a shadow that stretched far beyond its source—dark, omnipresent, and inescapable.

“Uchiha-san?” Sakura’s voice quivered, her heart pounding in her chest as a mixture of fear and confusion churned inside her. Every instinct screamed at her to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of his gaze. Yet, inexplicably, she couldn’t look away from his dark eyes. They seemed to know something—everything—and she felt a chilling sense of being seen, stripped bare by their depth.

A shiver crawled down Sakura’s spine when Madara, with deliberate grace, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed lightly against her skin, sending an electric jolt through her, but it wasn’t the warmth she felt—it was the coolness of his touch. As his fingers trailed down her neck with unhurried precision, she felt the eerie weight of his touch deepen.

Sakura’s breath caught in her throat when his hand wrapped around her slender neck, a subtle yet unmistakable pressure building there. 

Her gaze flickered to the only other person in the lounge—the bartender—but he made no move to intervene. Instead, he turned his back, calmly polishing glasses as though they weren’t even there. Her heart sank as a knot of unease twisted in her stomach, tightening with each passing second.

“What did you come here for, Yamanaka-san?” Madara’s voice, smooth and low, recaptured her attention, pulling her back into the moment.

Madara was no stranger to danger—assassinations, espionage, and covert attempts to extract information were all part of his world. His eyes, trained to detect the slightest hint of threat, scrutinized the girl before him. If her objective was indeed nefarious, she was either hopelessly inept or entirely too inexperienced to pull off whatever plan she had in mind.

Given her performance so far, he expected her to crack—perhaps to cry, to beg, or to show some sign of fear that would confirm his suspicions. But instead, her eyes locked onto his without flinching, unblinking in a way that was both unsettling and strangely captivating.

Despite the tension radiating from her, despite the fear and anger clearly simmering just beneath the surface, there was an unexpected strength in her gaze. It was bold, defiant, yet not entirely reckless. It possessed a striking, almost mesmerizing quality that fascinated him more than he was willing to admit.

Unconsciously, Madara’s thumb moved subtly against the smooth skin of her neck, an almost imperceptible gesture that conveyed both reassurance and a silent assertion of control. He noted the slight tremor in her throat as she swallowed, the delicate movement betraying the nervousness she was trying so hard to mask. Her voice, though low and steady, was laced with an undercurrent of wavering tension. She was putting on a brave front, but it was fragile—like glass, ready to crack under pressure.

“Uchiha-san, please let go,” she said, her voice tight with restraint yet laced with a sharp edge of determination.

Madara’s lips curled ever so slightly, an involuntary twist of amusement and admiration flashing in his eyes. He couldn’t help but feel a certain respect for her bravery, if not stupidity.

Without warning, her hand shot up, fingers digging into the back of his elbow with a force that belied her petite frame. She yanked downward, using precise leverage to break his hold—but his grip on her neck refused to budge. Then Madara stilled. A sharp pressure bit into his chest—small but unmistakable. 

A blade.

Madara’s eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. He hadn’t anticipated the boldness of her actions, and the cold steel against his chest sent a ripple of something dangerous through him. He scoffed, the sound escaping him with a low, almost dismissive chuckle.

“This suit is worth more than your entire life, Yamanaka-san,” he grumbled, his voice dark and heavy, though he couldn’t quite discern if it was due to rage or excitement anymore. His gaze narrowed as he leveled his eyes with hers. “I suggest you don’t anger me more than you already have.”

Sakura’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she processed his words. She believed him. Everything about him—the cold authority in his voice, the luxurious surroundings, the calculated intensity in his gaze—spoke to a power and wealth she could neither deny nor afford to cross.

If she somehow survived this bizarre encounter, Sakura certainly didn’t want to spend the rest of her life drowning in debt, especially not for ruining a suit that likely cost more than everything she owned combined. 

With a mixture of reluctance and caution, Sakura slowly withdrew the pocketknife from his chest but kept it pointed towards Madara. Her fingers trembled slightly, betraying the adrenaline coursing through her veins, yet her grip remained steady and resolute.

Her reaction almost elicited a laugh from Madara. He hadn’t expected his threat to have such an immediate effect. 

Would a seasoned assassin—if that was indeed her role—be so concerned about damaging his suit that she would willingly retract her weapon? The absurdity of it all struck him. Not to mention her weapon of choice was so far removed from the lethal precision he was used to.

Madara’s lips curled into a barely contained smirk, his tone carrying a mix of genuine curiosity and a touch of disdain as he spoke.

“Is the one who sent you so cheap they couldn’t afford you a proper gun?” 

Madara leaned in, his movements deliberate and controlled, using a single finger to nudge the edge of the blade away from his chest as though it were nothing more than a toy in her hand. 

Sakura furrowed her brow in confusion, caught off guard by the unexpected question. 

“What are you talking about? You mean the papakatsu agency?” Sakura’s voice trembled slightly with uncertainty as she sought clarification, her gaze locked with Madara’s probing stare.

Madara didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he continued to scrutinize her face, his dark eyes boring into hers as if searching for any hint of deception. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he seemed to find what he was looking for—or rather, what wasn’t there. He relaxed his grip on her neck just the slightest bit, but his hands remained firmly in place, still exerting pressure on her throat. The shift in his demeanor wasn’t enough to grant her any real freedom, and her attempt once more to tug his hand away from her neck was met with an unyielding resistance.

“Why are you here today, Yamanaka-san?” Madara’s voice dropped to a low, insistent murmur. His piercing gaze held her captive, never wavering, as he leaned in closer, the heat of his presence pressing down on her. The faint scent of his expensive cologne mingled with the subtle remnants of alcohol on his breath, both scents adding to the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded her. 

It was clear that he wasn’t going to let her off easily, but he was giving her a chance—an opportunity to explain herself, an opportunity she knew she had to seize firmly. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but she refused to let her nerves dictate her actions. With a mix of apprehension and resolve, she summoned the courage to speak. 

“Alright, I’m not Yamanaka Ino,” she began. Her heart hammered against her chest. “I’m Ino’s friend, Haruno Sakura.”

Her voice trembled slightly as she recounted the details. Ino, her ever-bold and unpredictable friend, had signed up for the papakatsu service a few months ago—a choice born from a mix of singledom and a desire for financial independence. But recently, Ino started dating Sai, who not only accepted but actually supported her unconventional side job, though without certain boundaries. As Valentine’s Day loomed closer, Ino found herself at a crossroads. Her relationship had become a priority, and the morally complex arrangement she had with her clients no longer seemed worth the strain it put on her budding romance.

Before considering canceling on the high-paying customer, however, Ino decided to recruit her single best friend, who she knew would appreciate some extra cash, to help carry out this not-very-thought-out plan. Sakura, despite knowing better, was just desperate enough to agree to this favor.

Madara’s brow furrowed ever so slightly as he processed the torrent of information, but his gaze remained fixed on her—dark, unreadable, like the still surface of a lake concealing its depths. There was no immediate anger or irritation in his demeanor, just an inscrutable curiosity, as if he were trying to understand a piece of the puzzle slowly clicking into place.

As the silence between them stretched into an uncomfortable stillness, the sound of the clock’s faint ticking amplified, each second scraping against her nerves like a blade drawn slowly over bare skin.

Then something in the atmosphere shifted. The certainty Madara had clung to—the initial assumptions he had made about her intentions—began to unravel. Her words shouldn't have made sense, and yet given her performance thus far, it strangely did more than any hypothesis he had crafted.

His fingers loosened, retreating from her throat, but they lingered just a fraction of a second too long, as if testing something—her resolve, her reaction, or perhaps his own. Heat ghosted over her skin where his touch had been.

Released from his grip, Sakura swallowed, the motion tight and dry, and forced herself to move. Her fingers trembled as she slid the pocketknife back into her pocket, her pulse drumming against her ribs.

“I apologize for tricking you like this, Uchiha-san,” Sakura forced the words out, her voice steady despite the unspoken judgment in his gaze. “I take full responsibility for my actions, and I’ll make sure my friend works with the agency to compensate you.”

Embarrassment burned beneath her skin. All Sakura wanted was to be anywhere but here—to put as much distance as possible between herself, this suffocating encounter, and the mess she and Ino had landed in. She just hoped Madara took it easy on them both. 

With that, Sakura stood up from her high chair. She dipped into a deep bow, hoping it conveyed the sincerity she couldn’t quite voice, then turned swiftly on her heel, ready to make a break for the exit. She could feel the weight of his gaze tracking her every movement, clinging to her like a shadow.

Just as she turned to make her escape, a strong hand shot out, fingers locking around her wrist in a firm grip. A sharp pulse of panic flickered through her, but she forced herself to look back over her shoulder to meet Madara’s gaze. His eyes, dark and penetrating, traced over her features as if cataloging every nuance, every hint of emotion etched upon her face.

“I would like to be compensated right now,” Madara’s voice cut through the stillness, pulling Sakura back to the uncomfortable reality of her situation.

She froze at his unexpected demand. His grip on her wrist tightened imperceptibly, holding her in place. Sakura gave another bow, trying to convey her utmost respect. She didn’t realize that she had any assets that she could pay with. 

“Uchiha-san, my friend and I are college students,” she explained. “We don’t have a lot of money.”

Though he had anticipated her rejection, Madara wasn’t prepared for the sheer innocence of her answer. For a moment, he simply regarded her, then shook his head, amusement flickering across his sharp features. A faint smile ghosted at the corners of his lips. Money was the last thing he needed.

“I’m not asking for money, Haruno-san,” he clarified, his voice dipping into something almost gentle yet laced with unmistakable intent.

Sakura barely had time to process his words before he stepped closer, closing the space between them with an effortless grace. “ I’ll be providing the money,” he continued smoothly, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “I’m asking for your company.”

Sakura’s brows knitted together as she lifted her head, meeting his gaze with wary confusion as she tried to recall what little Ino had told her about papakatsu. “You mean like... another date?”

Of all the possible reactions, Madara hadn’t expected such a harmless response. Despite his usual composed demeanor, a laugh slipped past his lips before he could suppress it. The sound echoed faintly in the stillness of the room, brushing up against Sakura’s uncertain silence.

Was this girl fucking with him, or was she really this naïve? Madara wanted to believe it was the former, but the round, genuinely confused look in her eyes told him otherwise.

He studied her carefully as she hesitated, uncertainty written in the way her gaze flickered to the empty lobby. He had sensed her discomfort from the very start, but now, seeing her so visibly out of her element, he decided to reconsider his approach. Perhaps he should try taking things slower. 

“Sure, Haruno-san,” Madara said, his tone unexpectedly softer now, almost coaxing. “But would you like to finish our date here first?”

Given a choice, Sakura inhaled deeply as she took a moment to collect herself. Her gaze flickered to the bar stool where she had anxiously perched just moments ago, then to the door leading outside—freedom just within reach. 

For a fleeting moment, indecision rooted her in place. Running would be easy—instinctive, even. But it wouldn’t erase what had already happened. Maybe if she could smooth over the awkwardness that had marred their interaction, she could avoid facing the consequences of her deception. 

Exhaling slowly, she let the tension bleed out of her and turned back. Quiet resolve settled over her, like a shield, and she walked toward the bar. The soft surface of the stool grounded her as she perched atop it once more, her posture carefully composed.  

Madara nodded, a flicker of understanding in his eyes as he addressed Sakura directly. “Before we start, however, I would like to speak to Haruno Sakura, not Yamanaka Ino,” he requested, his tone firm as his arms crossed across his chest.

Sakura felt a sigh slip past her lips, though she kept it quiet, the weight of both resignation and unexpected relief flooding her all at once. With a practiced motion, she reached up and slowly tugged at the wig that had kept her identity hidden, allowing her natural hair to cascade freely around her shoulders. 

Madara had noticed the wig when they first met, but he wasn’t prepared for how striking the contrast was between her shoulder-length, bubblegum-colored hair and the blonde, high ponytail she had worn as a disguise. A curious impulse tugged at him, prompting him to reach out and gently grasp a strand of her natural hair between his fingers.

Sakura flinched subtly at the unexpected touch, her body tensing as the reflex of caution and surprise kicked in. Yet, to his intrigue, she made no move to pull away, her stillness reluctant but oddly accepting.

Madara observed her carefully, noting that this wasn’t something she typically allowed, not from strangers she had just met. And yet, here she was—sitting still under his touch, her gaze neither alarmed nor defensive. 

Her hair was unexpectedly soft, like rose petals brushing against his skin. The vibrant color seemed to radiate with life. It framed her heart-shaped face perfectly, drawing attention to the warmth in her green eyes and enhancing her natural beauty in a way that the wig had disguised.

Madara nodded subtly, as though pleased by the unmasking of the woman before him. His hand withdrew, but his gaze remained steady. “Is there anything else you’ve lied to me about today?” He asked, his tone calm yet carrying an unmistakable edge of expectation.

Sakura took a deep breath, then reached for a tissue, dabbing at the bold color on her lips, revealing a softer, more natural shade. Her eyes then flickered down to her outfit as she straightened, lifting one leg to point at her high heels. “I haven’t read Ino’s profile,” she admitted, “but she’s a bit taller than me, hence these.”

Madara nodded again, his gaze never leaving hers. “Is that all?” He asked.

Sakura pressed her lips together, contemplating whether to reveal everything. There really was no reason left to keep up any tiny part of the lie, was there? 

Madara watched in confusion as her eyes flickered around the room, searching for signs of anyone else who might be watching. To her relief, the only other person in the vicinity was the indifferent bartender, who was still focusing on polishing wine glasses with his back turned.

With a quiet exhale, she hunched over slightly, her body instinctively shielding herself. One hand moved to cover her chest while the other retrieved the tissue paper she had stuffed into her bra. The motion was awkward, but it felt strangely liberating as she shed yet another layer of pretense.

When she looked back up at Madara, her cheeks burned with the heat of embarrassment from a sense of exposure she hadn’t anticipated. To her surprise, Madara was smiling, a satisfied curve to his lips as though he were pleased with her honesty.

“Nice to meet you, Haruno Sakura-san,” he said, his voice warmer now as he extended a hand toward her.

Sakura, expecting a simple handshake, was caught off guard when instead, he gently took her hand and brought it to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it. The gesture was so unexpectedly elegant, so reminiscent of something straight out of a romance movie, that Sakura felt the heat rise to her cheeks, a blush spreading across her face. She was used to dealing with people her own age, not someone like Madara—whose manners, poise, and quiet confidence seemed to belong to another era.

“Likewise, Uchiha-san,” she stuttered, her voice betraying the rush of emotion she hadn’t quite processed.

When Madara released her hand, Sakura quickly reached for the red mocktail that had been forgotten in the midst of everything. She took a sip, the cool, tart liquid sliding smoothly over her tongue, calming her nerves just slightly.

Setting the glass back down, she felt the pressure mount. This was her chance to redeem herself, to steer the conversation into safer waters. But the weight of his gaze and the lingering warmth of his touch made it harder to find her footing.

“So, what do you do for a living, Uchiha-san?” Sakura asked, her voice a touch more confident now, though her nerves still clung to her words.

Madara halted halfway through bringing his drink to his lips, his gaze shifting toward her. “Do you really not know who I am, Haruno-san?”

The question hit her like a cold wave, and Sakura felt a pang of worry twist in her stomach. Had she already messed up? How was that possible with such a common question about one’s occupation?

Was I supposed to already know what he does? Was it in his profile? Or is he just testing if I had been listening?

“You’re Uchiha Madara,” she answered, although it sounded more like a question. 

Madara stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge her sincerity. His hand hung in the air, the drink forgotten as he processed her response. Not recognizing his face was one thing—he wasn’t particularly fond of photos—but not knowing the name Uchiha Madara or even the legacy of the Uchiha clan was almost unheard of in the greater area of Tokyo.

Her entire demeanor and reaction to him now made so much more sense. Despite the confusion, Madara found himself strangely entertained by her guileless manner and unadorned appearance. It had been such a long time since he had talked with someone who wasn’t trying to ride his coattails or take advantage of him. Her presence, like the subtle floral scent that seemed to linger around her, was a welcome breath of fresh air.

Madara chuckled and shook his head as if she had just said something hilarious. Sakura, still confused and not entirely sure what had just transpired, decided to move forward with another question. 

“How about your family, Uchiha-san? Do you have any siblings?” She asked, hoping to learn more about the man behind the name.

Madara’s expression didn’t change, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I have an empire,” he replied curtly. 

His answer wasn’t what Sakura had been expecting, but it made clear to her that this aspect of his life was likely a sensitive topic.

Shit, did I just make another mistake? What the hell am I supposed to talk about with this man? The weather? 

The realization hit her with an uncomfortable clarity. From the age difference to the vastly different worlds they inhabited, there didn’t seem to be a single common ground between them. They were from entirely different lives, operating on different wavelengths.

Ino had told her that her papakatsu dates usually did most of the talking, while she simply listened, chiming in every now and then when it felt right. But for some unknown reason, this man seemed to prefer hearing her talk instead.

One of the main reasons Sakura had agreed to do this in the first place was the anonymity of it. She was only supposed to play a character and leave, not get paid for sharing any more information about herself. But the realization that she was no longer sticking to that script made her feel vulnerable. Yet, strangely, she found herself compelled to continue.

What she needed was to find a topic that could keep him talking—something engaging enough to hold his attention. The challenge was to strike the delicate balance between making conversation and not prying too deeply into his life. Perhaps starting with a bit of disclosure might be a wise move to lower his guard.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward,” she apologized. The words felt clumsy as they left her mouth. “I guess you can see why I’m not an official baby.”

Madara’s response came effortlessly, his voice smooth and reassuring. “You’re doing just fine, love.” His hand reached out and patted hers, the gesture unexpected and surprisingly warm.

The touch caught her off guard, and for a split second, she felt an overwhelming rush of self-consciousness. Hesitantly, she pulled her hand back, gripping her glass a little too tightly as she laughed nervously, her cheeks flushing with an awkward mix of emotions.

The way Madara’s large hand completely overlapped hers sent a sharp reminder to Sakura of how easily he could have ended her life earlier. The bartender’s indifferent attitude as a silent witness only heightened her unease; she didn’t believe shouting for help would do her any good in this place. It felt like the entire atmosphere of the room, the very air she breathed, was under this man’s whim. 

“Sorry, I’m a bit nervous,” she admitted, forcing the words out despite the tightness in her chest.

It was a slight exaggeration—a lie, really. She was very nervous, more than she cared to admit. It had just occurred to her that she never asked Ino about the boundaries of this transactional arrangement. Perhaps his previous request for company might not be referring to this date that she was somehow still on.

Luckily, Madara didn’t seem to mind her defensive attitude. His patient silence, almost like an invitation, made her feel as though he wasn’t expecting perfection from her—just something. Speaking of which, the fact that they were both sitting here meant they did share at least one thing in common: this strange, mutual arrangement. She had already revealed her side of the story; maybe she could coax him into sharing his.

Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Sakura shifted in her seat, determined to steer the conversation towards something that might pique Madara’s interest—something that wouldn’t leave her feeling as exposed.

“So how did you come to learn about the papakatsu agency, Uchiha-san?” She asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Madara’s lips curled into a knowing grin, and Sakura instantly knew he saw through her. He could sense what she was trying to do, and he immediately knew how much she would dislike his answer the moment her question left her lips.

“I’m a shareholder of the agency.”

Oh, for fuck’s sak—

Sakura quickly took a sip of her fruity drink, buying herself some time to think of another question. Somehow, all her questions seemed either too personal or too easily brush off with a quick, nonchalant response. 

Meanwhile, Madara seemed to be enjoying himself, as if toying with her every attempt to engage him in conversation. His casual amusement at her expense only deepened her discomfort. Perhaps he would be kind enough to offer a bit of assistance this time around.

“Have you considered signing up for the agency after this, love?” Madara asked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Sakura nearly choked on her drink. For a moment, her mind short-circuited, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

“Definitely not,” Sakura affirmed without missing a beat. The moment those words left her lips, her eyes searched his expression anxiously, fearing she might have just overstepped a line with her tone. 

However, he simply nodded, as if her response didn’t surprise him in the slightest, prompting Sakura to breathe a sigh of relief. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he spoke again.

“You said it yourself that you don’t have a lot of money. Don’t you think having someone to provide for you would be beneficial?”

Sakura frowned, feeling a knot of discomfort tightening in her stomach.

Someone like him?

The words rang in her mind, and she couldn’t help but feel a chill creep up her spine. What kind of arrangement was he suggesting, really? Her eyes briefly flickered toward the door, but she quickly dismissed the thought. It was too late for escape.

Sakura had no issues with other people who chose to engage in such arrangements, but this wasn’t what she had signed up for. All she wanted was a straightforward transaction—a quick favor for Ino, and then she’d be gone. The simplicity of it had seemed so clear at first.

But now, Sakura couldn’t help but bristle at the way Madara, a shareholder, was actively trying to recruit her for his agency. That wasn’t what she was here for. She wasn’t interested in a job or in any discussion about her future prospects with someone who had been nothing but uncooperative and condescending from the start. She was only here to keep her end of a bargain she now regretted making.

Fuck being polite.

Sakura’s smile tightened as she looked at Madara, her eyes flashing with the frustration that had been building inside her. 

“Do you often go after college students, Uchiha-san?” She gritted out, her words sharp and deliberate.

Madara raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the sudden shift in her tone. But before Sakura could make sense of it, a mischievous smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

“Only the hot ones,” he replied, his voice a low, teasing drawl, and the glint in his eyes made it clear he was both amused and excited by her boldness.

Sakura rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t deny the truth in his jest. The idea of someone like Madara—wealthy, powerful, and used to getting what he wanted—being attracted to young women like Ino didn’t seem entirely far-fetched.

“And what do you consider ‘hot’?” Sakura asked, a slight edge creeping into her voice as she challenged him, hoping to get under his skin.

Madara grinned, leaning back in his chair with that irritatingly confident air of his. “What do you think?” He countered, his smile widening in a way that made Sakura want to wipe it right off his face.

She didn’t want to answer his question, but she realized she’d rather use her words than hear what he really thought about Ino.

“Tall, blonde, hourglass, fierce, flirtatious yet coy,” she replied, raising an eyebrow, her tone cool and controlled.

Madara nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “She sounds hot,” he said, the admission unapologetic and almost casual, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sakura couldn’t suppress a shake of her head at his straightforwardness. Of course he’d think that. Did she really expect anything less from someone like him ? His lack of pretense was almost infuriating, as if he assumed everyone would fall in line with his view of the world.

“Has it never occurred to you that someone like you shouldn’t be interacting with someone like her ?” She shot back, her words sharp and laced with frustration.

Madara chuckled at the scowl that now marred Sakura’s face. She had been so careful, so demure, after he discovered her secret. But now she was actively glowering at him, and Madara found a strange satisfaction in the fact that she hadn’t even realized it.

“Are you jealous, love?” He teased, his voice laced with amusement.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head again, trying to mask the wave of irritation sweeping over her. Is this his tactic for charming women?  

“Do you call every girl that, Uchiha-san?” She retorted, meeting his gaze with a defiant tilt of her chin, unwilling to back down.

Madara seemed to latch onto the next thing that irritated her. He leaned back in his chair, studying her with that unnerving, thoughtful expression. It made Sakura feel exposed, like he was dissecting her every move. She wasn’t sure what she was still doing here, drinking with him, caught in this strange conversation.

“Only the one I really like, love ,” Madara emphasized the endearment, his voice lingering on it just a bit too long, causing her to bristle involuntarily. The smugness in his voice made her teeth clench. “Maybe you’d prefer I call you Sakura instead?”

Sakura crossed her arms tightly, her expression hardening into a guarded mask. “That’s very bold of you, Uchiha-san,” she replied coldly, placing extra emphasis on the honorifics she still held firmly to, reminding him of the distance he seemed so eager to close and of making sure he knew exactly where she stood.

Madara shrugged nonchalantly, his posture relaxed, as if they were discussing something trivial. “I don’t see the need for formality if I will be seeing you again soon.”

Sakura felt a knot of unease tighten in her stomach. What was with the speed of this development? Was he already planning for future dates?

“With all due respect, Uchiha-san, we barely know each other,” Sakura pointed out, her voice firm, though the words felt inadequate in the face of his intense scrutiny.

Madara’s lips curled into a knowing smile, his tone smooth, almost coaxing. “That can easily be changed,” he said, the words laced with an unsettling calmness. “And so are feelings,” he added, his gaze unwavering, as if challenging her to deny the truth in his words. 

Feelings? The casual way he spoke about them sent a shiver down her spine. 

She knew she agreed to compensate, but did he really want another date after how this one turns out? She doubted any future date could possibly change how she viewed him. 

“People are complex, Uchiha-san,” Sakura countered, her voice tinged with skepticism. “You can’t make people do what they don’t want to do.”

“Oh, but they’re really more simple than you think,” Madara replied, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. His voice held an edge of superiority, like he had already solved the puzzle of human nature. “Do you want to know everyone’s weaknesses?”

Sakura frowned, the unease in her chest growing heavier. She wasn’t sure whether to take his words seriously or dismiss them as just another attempt to charm her with his unrelenting confidence. Yet, despite herself, she found herself leaning in slightly, curiosity sparking against her better judgment.

Madara’s grin widened at her reaction. Little did she know that she was demonstrating exactly his point.

“Everyone’s weakness, including yours, is their predictability,” Madara stated, the hint of amusement in his voice barely masking the calculating coldness beneath. His words slid out like a knife, but his tone made them sound almost like a game.

Sakura’s unease deepened, a mixture of intrigue and wariness stirring within her. “But everyone is unique; no one acts the same as the next person,” she countered, frowning in confusion as she mulled over his words. 

“Not if you understand them, Sakura,” Madara replied calmly, his voice laced with an unsettling confidence. “In this world of rules and societal norms, people often don’t deviate.”

Sakura’s mind wandered back to the moment they first met, her stomach tightening as she recalled how Madara had casually brought up Ino’s profile again and again. It was as though he had already formed a preconceived image of who Ino was—an image so clear in his mind that he could spot her disguise without hesitation. 

She couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing the same thing now, quietly constructing a mental picture of who she was as she sat before him. The thought made her shift in her seat, suddenly self-conscious of every little movement. It couldn’t be a flattering picture, she reasoned, given the questionable decisions that had led her to this bizarre, uncomfortable situation.

Her heart picked up its pace as she took a deep breath, deciding to challenge him. “Won’t you be blinded by your own biases that way?” She asked, her voice quieter but edged with both caution and the faintest hint of defiance.

Madara’s eyes twinkled with amusement before he threw his head back, letting out a deep, genuine laugh that resonated through the space between them.

“I didn’t get where I am now by being wrong, Sakura,” he said, the underlying arrogance unmistakable.

Sakura could see how Madara’s logic made sense to someone like him—someone who appeared to possess an almost uncanny ability to extract data and meaning from even the briefest interactions or profiles. The realization made her feel small, like an open book that he was expertly flipping through without a second thought. But did he really know her? She couldn’t help but feel it was unfair that this brief moment in her life could define her in his eyes.

Sensing her hesitance, Madara raised an eyebrow. A subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “You don’t seem convinced,” he observed.

Sakura shook her head lightly. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him. In fact, he believed it so fully that his words almost felt true. From the way that he ascribed predictability as a weakness, Sakura could tell Madara wielded his knowledge of people's patterns of behavior as a manipulative tool. 

“I just don’t think you can apply that to everything in life,” she said, her tone firmer now, though a flutter of unease still danced beneath her resolve.

Madara smiled, recognizing the challenge underlined in her reply. He leaned in slightly, his gaze narrowing just enough to feel intimate yet still distant.

“And what is it that you think I can’t make people do?” He asked, his voice soft yet brimming with curiosity, like a predator testing the waters before making a move.

As Sakura thought about his question, her mind drifted momentarily to her roommate. A warmth spread through her as his face flashed in her mind, bolstering her confidence.

“Love,” she answered with newfound resolve, sitting a little straighter in her seat, her gaze meeting his directly. “Genuine love is irrational and illogical; you can’t force people to love someone they don’t.”

For a moment, Madara’s expression flickered, as if the idea had sparked something deep within him. His eyes gleamed with something like excitement, and he leaned back, relaxing into his seat. Despite the casualness of his posture, the intensity in his gaze remained unbroken.

“Ah, but love is simply an illusion of your mind,” he mused, his index finger lifting to gently tap the side of her temple. “Love, as unpredictable as it is, can also be influenced, guided, shaped.”

Sakura’s mind raced, torn between the conflicting urges that tugged at her. One part of her wanted to pull away, to escape the magnetic pull of his presence and the tension building between them. But another part was inexplicably drawn to the challenge he presented. She had always believed in the purity and unpredictability of love, the raw emotion that defied logic, but here sat Madara, suggesting that love could be bent, manipulated to fit a desired outcome.

His words were so confident, so assured, yet they carried a darkness that unsettled her. “That sounds like manipulation, not love.”

Madara’s lips spread into a small, knowing smile. He didn’t flinch or show any sign of being bothered by her words. “Perhaps,” he conceded, his voice smooth and unyielding like the calm before a storm. “But the line between the two is thinner than you think. People are creatures of habit and influence, Sakura. Understand their patterns, and you can predict their responses.”

“Are you saying you can force someone to fall in love with you?” She asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

“There are many ways to ‘create’ it without ‘forcing’ it,” he mused. “All we need is the right environment for it to happen naturally.”

He let the word linger, watching her reaction with quiet satisfaction. Then, with a slow, calculated ease, he added, “Proximity, for example.”

Sakura’s pulse quickened, a challenge rising in her chest as she lifted her chin, defiant, almost as if daring him to push further. “And what if it doesn’t work?” She shot back, her breath quickening just slightly despite her bravado.

Madara’s grin widened. The faint scent of his cologne—a warm, earthy blend of cedarwood with a touch of something darker, richer, more intoxicating—wrapped around her like an unseen force. 

“That’s the beauty of it, Love,” he purred, his voice a smooth, dangerous melody. “You won’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late. Given the right circumstances, it’s inevitable. And if there are exceptions... well, that only proves the rule.”

Sakura’s breath hitched as Madara’s hand gently tilted her chin, guiding her face closer to his. His words seemed to coil around her, a soft, insistent spell that tangled with her thoughts.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?” His voice, low and inviting, slid over her like silk against bare skin. Yet there was something more beneath the smoothness—an unspoken challenge, laced with a promise that lingered in the air like a heavy mist.

His touch was paradoxically firm and gentle, his fingers warm as they pressed lightly against her skin. The heat radiated through her, sending a shiver down her spine, a confusing mix of discomfort and an undeniable, electric fascination. For a heartbeat, she was lost in the depths of his gaze, dark and infinite, like the midnight sky itself. It was as if he could see straight through her, reading her thoughts before she even had them.

She could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers, carrying a faint scent of whiskey and something else she couldn’t quite place. The intensity of his presence overwhelmed her senses.

It would be a lie if she said this man’s devilishly good looks didn’t pull at something deep inside her. The sharp, chiseled lines of his face, the way he exuded an effortless confidence—he was undeniably attractive, a dangerous blend of beauty and power. Add to that the undeniable fact that he was well-off, and there was a certain sinfully charming arrogance in the way he could flirt so shamelessly with any woman who caught his interest. His charm was intoxicating, and yet she knew better than to get caught in its snare.

The proximity between them only made her more acutely aware of the raw strength radiating from him, the controlled power that seemed to saturate every inch of his being. The magnetic aura surrounding him was a force unto itself, a quiet dominance that was both thrilling and unsettling. 

She really needed to get out of here.

But before she could pull away, the tension was shattered by the sharp, insistent ringing of her phone. The sudden noise sliced through the heavy air, pulling Sakura from her dazed state. She blinked, the clarity of the moment rushing back to her as she gently removed Madara’s hand from her chin. She averted her gaze, focusing on the screen of her phone with a feigned look of surprise at the caller ID.

“I have to take this,” Sakura murmured apologetically, her heart still hammering from the intensity of their conversation. Every inch of her was alive with the lingering heat of his presence.

Sakura didn’t know why she even bothered to wait for Madara’s permission, but she only excused herself to a quieter corner of the bar when he gave her a nod. She answered the call, her voice steady despite the residual tremor of nerves she couldn’t quite shake.

“Hello, I’m calling from a plumbing company to tell you that your place is flooded!”

Sakura let out a sigh of relief when she heard her childhood friend’s familiar tone, a lifeline in the midst of her unexpected encounter with Madara. Earlier, in a split-second decision, she’d dialed Naruto’s number and hung up after just a single ring. She had weaved it into the flow of her conversation with Madara, slipping the call in between his sentences without him noticing, a practiced move born out of necessity.

“It’s okay, Naruto, my speaker’s not on,” Sakura whispered, casting a quick, cautious glance at Madara to make sure he wasn’t listening. “I’m just going to pretend I have an emergency at home.”

“Is everything alright, Sakura-chan?” Naruto’s voice crackled with concern.

“Yeah, it’s nothing I can’t handle,” she murmured.

“If you say so,” Naruto replied, his voice casual now. “Oh, can you pick me up a bento when you come to work tomorrow?”

Sakura raised her voice just enough to carry through the air, making sure Madara could hear her playing along. “Oh no, that’s terrible!” She exaggerated the distress in her voice, hoping it would seem convincing enough.

“You can do better than that, Sakura-chan, give me a real sense of urgency!” Naruto insisted, his voice teasingly loud.

Sakura clicked her tongue in quiet frustration at his unhelpful criticism. “I’ll be there right away!” She shot back, ramping up the drama just a touch.

A hint of a smile played on Madara’s lips as he observed Sakura’s attempt at the emergency call, a subtle amusement dancing in his eyes. He couldn’t help but find it rather transparent. If this wasn’t the oldest trick in the book. 

“I’m sorry to cut our date short, Uchiha-san,” Sakura said, her voice slightly rushed as she hurried back to the bar. “But I need to get home immediately.”

Madara remained seated, watching her with that ever-present smirk, his amusement barely concealed. “It sure sounded urgent, Sakura. Would you like a ride home?” He asked. 

The only thing Sakura would like to do at that moment was wipe that arrogant grin off of Madara’s face, but she relented. 

“That won’t be necessary, Uchiha-san,” she replied curtly, her voice laced with forced politeness that barely concealed the irritation simmering beneath. “I’ll take the train.”

With quick, clipped motions, Sakura grabbed her things. But just as she turned to leave, Sakura paused for a moment, gathering herself before offering Madara one last bow, a feeble attempt to salvage what little dignity she had left. “Again, I’m really sorry for deceiving you today. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Well, I suppose I enjoyed our first date at least,” Madara mused.

Sakura’s breath escaped her in a quiet sigh of relief, though she was unsure why he seemed satisfied.

“Thank you, Uchiha-san,” she said politely, her voice more composed now, though her grip on her purse remained tense. Without waiting for a response, she turned away, desperate to escape the awkward encounter and retreat into the safety of the outside world.

But just as she took her first step, Madara’s voice cut through the air behind her.

“Sakura.”

Her body went rigid, the unexpected sound of her name halting her in her tracks.

“Yes?” She responded cautiously.

“You are to call me ’Madara-sama’ from now on,” he declared, his tone surprisingly firm, his expression expectant.

Sakura almost choked on her saliva in disbelief.

You’ve got to be kidding me! Sakura’s mind screamed, her blood boiling at the audacity of his request.

They’d known each other for barely an hour and they spent half of that time trying to kill each other. She certainly does not have enough respect for this man to refer to him as such. 

With a tight, forced smile, she barely managed to bite out the words. “Very well… Madara-sama ,” she said, the honorific tasting like ash on her tongue, every syllable an unwelcome weight. Yet, to her frustration, he seemed to take a quiet pleasure in her struggle, his smirk widening as if savoring her discomfort. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

Never, she finished the sentence in her head as she made her way out of the building. Even though she refused to look back, she could feel his gaze like a weight on her back, following her every step, scrutinizing her movements. It was as if he could reach through the air and pull her right back into his grasp, but she refused to give him that power.

The first breath of outside air hit her lungs with a rush, cool and crisp against her skin, offering a stark contrast to the warmth of the bar and the pressure of Madara’s presence. It was as if she had finally returned to her own world—one that was no longer tainted by the strange, dangerous magnetism of the man she had just left behind. 

Maybe he’d forget about the whole thing, she thought, though she wasn’t sure if she believed it. If not, perhaps Ino would be able to smooth things out with him through the agency. Either way, she hoped she'd never see him again.

Inside the bar, Madara remained unmoved, a quiet chuckle escaped him as he swirled the last dregs of his drink, savoring the warmth that lingered in his throat. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out his phone, dialing a number he knew well.

“Yes, Oyabun?” The voice of his right-hand man crackled through the line.

“I need you to pull some information on a ‘Haruno Sakura’,” he instructed.

“Consider it done.”

Madara hung up the phone, the smirk on his face widening slightly. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

Chapter Text

True to her words, Sasuke found Sakura back home at noon. As she stepped through the front door, the familiar hum of her voice filled the air. She was mid-conversation with her phone wedged between her shoulder and ear, her tone brisk yet tinged with fatigue. He immediately recognized the voice on the other end.

“Yeah, I’m fine; don’t ask. I’m home,” Sakura muttered as she bent down, struggling to pry off her heels. With a soft huff, she kicked them off and carefully placed them back into the box Ino had given her. “I know, I remember. I’ll give it to you tomorrow. Yes, with your surprise. Yeah, ok, love you, bye!”

“Welcome back,” Sasuke greeted, drawing her attention to him.

Although Sakura had expected to find him at home, the sight of him sitting so casually at the table in the main room still surprised.

Sasuke was never the type to enjoy social outings, but she had assumed he would at least do something for Valentine’s Day if he was indeed in a relationship. Yet, there he was—seated comfortably at the table, one arm draped lazily over the wooden surface. His clothes were casual and his dark hair was slightly disheveled, as if he hadn’t even bothered to run a hand through it.

“I’m back,” Sakura replied.

She quickly crossed the room to grab a comfortable outfit to change into after her uncomfortable date. Emerging from the bathroom, she made a beeline for the fridge, reaching deep into its recesses to retrieve three small, clear bags she had meticulously tied with delicate bows. Relief washed over her as she pulled it out.

“Oh, good, he hasn’t found it,” she murmured under her breath. Sakura glanced over at her roommate, gauging his attention before making her move.

Across the apartment, Sasuke was engrossed in a book, pretending not to be aware of her gaze as he scanned the page. Sakura sucked in a long breath, working up her courage before approaching him.

“Hey, Sasuke-kun?” She called, her voice quieter than she intended.

“Hn?” He responded, his attention briefly shifting to her.

Sakura hesitated for a fraction of a second before kneeling down beside him, tucking the small bag behind her back. Her palms felt oddly clammy despite the cool air drifting from the window.

"Um... since today is Valentine’s Day, here.” 

Slowly, she brought the bag forward, offering it to him with both hands. The delicate bow atop the clear wrapping suddenly felt like a bold confession, too fragile yet too telling all at once.

Sasuke’s gaze dropped to the bag as she placed it in his hand. His sharp eyes took in the details—the ribbon, neatly tied into a small bow, the smooth plastic, and the careful lettering of his name in Sakura’s unmistakable handwriting. Inside were several cubes of chocolate molded into the shape of hearts.

Sasuke had expected to receive something from Sakura today, but now that he was holding it in his hand, he felt a sudden, rare moment of shyness. For a moment, he merely stared at the chocolates, as if searching for the right words.

“Thank you… Sakura,” he finally managed to say, his voice quieter than usual.

Mistaking his slow reaction for reluctance, Sakura hurriedly added, “They’re tomo choco, by the way, so don’t feel pressured by it.”

Friendship chocolate, huh? Why was he expecting something more?

“Is the idiot getting one?” Sasuke asked abruptly.

“You mean Naruto?” Sakura replied, arching a brow before setting down the other bag she had been keeping hidden. “I’m going to give it to him tomorrow at work.”

The packaging was nearly identical—carefully wrapped, tied with the same delicate ribbon. But as Sasuke’s gaze flicked between the two, he immediately noticed the difference. While his chocolates were marked with a neat blue ‘S’, Naruto’s bore an orange ‘N’.

And then something else caught his eye. His bag had one more chocolate cube than Naruto’s.

The difference was small, likely accidental. Sakura probably hadn’t even realized it. But Sasuke was quick to count it as a small victory. A win was a win, after all.

“Did you make these?” Sasuke asked, his voice low as he turned the bag in his hands, studying the chocolates through the thin plastic. The faint scent of cocoa and sugar drifted up, warm and inviting.

“Yeah, I made them over at Itachi’s,” Sakura said, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear.

Sasuke’s expression darkened ever so slightly at the mention of his brother’s name. It sat heavy in the air between them like an uninvited guest.

“Did he also get some?” He asked, his voice deceptively neutral.

Sakura tilted her head, considering. “He had some from my test batch,” she admitted, an edge of curiosity in her tone. “So he insisted he didn’t want any today.”

That sly bastard.

Sasuke exhaled slowly, his fingers loosening just a fraction. They were all tomo choco, he reminded himself, a fact that should have been enough to settle his nerves. He had no right to forbid her from giving them to those two. And yet the thought lingered.

He looked down at his chocolates, a strange weight settling in his chest. It wasn’t as if he expected exclusivity, but there was a flicker of disappointment. Still, he refused to let jealousy taint the gift in his hands. After all, these were hand-made by Sakura—pressed, molded, and wrapped with her own hands. Their imperfections only made them more precious. That was enough.

Sensing Sasuke’s attention shifting to the chocolates, Sakura quickly added, a mix of pride and nervousness threading through her voice, “I make sure to make yours dark, so they’re really not sweet at all.”

Sasuke silently undid the knot on the bag with meticulous care, as if unwrapping something fragile—something that mattered. He slipped one of the chocolates past his lips, letting it rest on his tongue. The dark chocolate melted instantly, velvety and rich, its deep bitterness blooming with a faint undertone of warmth.

Sakura leaned in slightly, watching him intently. “How is it?” She asked, her voice tinged with anticipation, her emerald eyes alight.

He chewed thoughtfully, then gave a small nod. “Really good.”

Sakura’s face lit up, her beaming smile so radiant it made something soft shift in his chest. It was that smile, the one he found himself loving far more than he was ever allowed to admit out loud. 

“That’s good to hear,” she said, her voice warm with relief.

Feeling his face heat up, Sasuke quickly turned away, his gaze drifting to the third bag of chocolates—a bag that stood apart from the rest, unadorned, lacking the careful touches that marked the others.

“What about that one?” Sasuke asked, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity, though it couldn’t completely mask the unease gnawing at him.

There was no way she didn’t make any, right? So, who were they for?

“Are those honmei chocolates?" He added, trying—and failing—to keep his tone casual.

Sakura glanced down at the third bag in her hand, her fingers absently smoothing the edges of the crinkled plastic as she considered his questions. Then, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Yeah, I guess they are.”

Her answer fell between them like a stone, sinking into the air, and Sasuke’s heart dropped. He’d known it was a possibility, but hearing her confirm it still hit him harder than he expected. But then he watched in confusion as Sakura reached for one of the chocolates from the plain bag, slipping a cube into her mouth. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the taste, before letting out a soft, satisfied sigh.

“These are ones I messed up,” she explained, her voice light. “They’re honmei choco to myself.” She chuckled softly as she popped another cube in her mouth. This time, however, her expression faltered. She grimaced slightly, her lips twisting. The second one was probably a little bit burned.

Sakura’s scrunched-up face nearly elicited a laugh from Sasuke, and for a brief moment, a wave of relief washed over him. He hadn’t seriously thought she had a boyfriend he didn’t know about, but he also couldn’t deny a twinge of worry when she had woken up unusually early this morning. As much as she left her cosmetics strewn across the bathroom sink, she rarely wore that much makeup or dressed that elaborately. He was almost convinced she was preparing for a date. Speaking of which...

“How was... cosplaying?” Sasuke asked, trying to keep his tone casual, though a slight tension lingered in his voice.

“Cosplaying?” Sakura blinked at him, her expression one of pure confusion, as if he’d just sprouted a second head. Then, after a beat, her eyes widened slightly as realization dawned. “Oh! You’re talking about this morning.”

Sasuke nodded, waiting for her explanation.

Sakura groaned tiredly, her expression crumpling as if the mere thought of recalling the morning was enough to drain her energy. The way she slumped against the table only served to deepen Sasuke’s curiosity. 

She rested her chin in her palm, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. “It was... something, I guess? I don’t know if you even want to know,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have gone in the first place. The whole thing was so stupid.”

“Try me,” Sasuke said, leaning in slightly.

Sakura stared at him for a moment, her gaze skeptical, unsure whether he was truly interested or just humoring her. But after a beat, she let out a soft sigh and decided to indulge him. It had been a bizarre experience, one that still felt a little surreal to her, but at least it would make for a good story they could laugh about later. After all, what else could she do about something that had already happened?

“Papakatsu, Sakura? Really?” Sasuke exclaimed, his tone a mixture of anger and disbelief, his arms folding tightly across his chest. His expression was a mirror of disapproval, so intense it almost seemed like a reflection of her mother’s.

Oops, he’s not laughing. 

A flicker of panic crossed her features as she tried to salvage the situation. “I know, but hear me out!” Sakura hurriedly interjected before Sasuke could tear into her for her naivety. “First of all, it was just a first meeting, supposed to last no more than an hour. And second, I went disguised as Ino, meeting in a public place—it was as safe and anonymous as it gets.”

Sasuke didn’t flinch. The disbelief in his eyes was palpable. “He literally figured you out in the first few minutes, threatened you, and put his hand on you! In public!”

Okay, so it does sound really bad when he laid it out like that.

“But I had your pocketknife with me!” Sakura shot back, her voice rising with a hint of defiance. Sakura wasn’t even sure if Sasuke meant to place blame on her, but it felt like he was, and that thought fueled her responses. The words were tumbling out before she could stop herself. 

Meanwhile, Sasuke fought the overwhelming urge to claw his eyes out. 

“You mean the knife you were too afraid to use because he told you the price of his suit?” Sasuke retorted, his voice a mixture of incredulity and frustration, each word coming out clipped and harsh.

Sakura froze for a moment. She admitted she sounded really dumb, too, when he put it like that. Still, she couldn’t help but feel annoyed that Sasuke couldn’t understand her thought process at the time.

“But I came out alive and debt-free, so I’d say that was a success,” Sakura said, her voice carrying a mix of defensiveness and reluctant pride.

“I—”

Sasuke cut himself off, letting out an exasperated huff. He raked a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the tense line of his shoulders. He wanted to yell, to argue, to make her see how reckless and stupid agreeing to that date had been. But a small part of him had to admit, with great reluctance, that given the bizarre and dangerous situation, this outcome might have been one of the better ones.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura reassured him, sensing his tension. “It was a stupid one-time thing for some extra cash; it’s not like I signed up for the service.”

Sasuke didn’t want to escalate things, but he couldn’t forgive the man for what he did to her, no matter how much she brushed it off. Perhaps he needed to ask Itachi about this particular agency and the type of clients they are providing services to.

“Who was it?” Sasuke asked, his voice tight.

“Who? You mean the guy I went on a date with?” Sakura asked, her voice light, though she immediately noticed the way Sasuke’s brow furrowed in disapproval. He was clearly uncomfortable with her still referring to it as a date, but he nodded anyway, urging her to continue.

Sakura paused, glancing upward as she tried to remember the details of the conversation before she had left the building. “I think his name was Madara—Uchiha Madara.”

As soon as the name left her lips, Sasuke’s usually composed expression shifted drastically. His face momentarily went blank before his eyes widened, his posture rigid. She could almost feel the air around him grow colder and more charged. The change in his demeanor was so sharp and sudden. She didn’t think she had ever seen him so shocked.

“You’re kidding,” Sasuke said, his voice low, his brow furrowing in disbelief. A sharp tension laced his words, like he was hoping—praying—that he had misheard her. “You’re telling me you met with Uchiha Madara?”

Sakura perked up at the way Sasuke repeated the name, his reaction sparking a flicker of curiosity. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes searching his face. “You know who he is? Is he famous or something?”

“Sakura—” Sasuke exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if trying to steady himself, to rein in the sudden wave of frustration boiling inside him. He needed to process this—needed to believe that she was actually saying this. He opened his eyes again, his gaze sharp and disbelieving. “You’re telling me you don’t even know who he is?”

“I don’t, okay?!” Sakura snapped. The frustration of being out of the loop was gnawing at her. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? “Can’t you just tell me?”

Sasuke took a deep breath, forcing himself to steady the turmoil in his mind. He had hoped he would never have to talk about Madara with Sakura. But the dirty old man had shattered that illusion, forcing his way into their peaceful life like an unwanted specter. 

His fingers curled into fists before he flexed them out again, the tension coiling in his muscles. Sasuke wasn’t even sure how much he should reveal to Sakura about that man.

“Uchiha Madara is one of the richest and most influential men in Tokyo,” Sasuke finally said, his voice measured, but beneath the even tone, there was an unmistakable weight—one that carried both reluctance and something dangerously close to warning. He met her eyes, gauging her reaction as he continued. “He has his hands in everything—real estate, finance, tech industries, even entertainment. On the surface, he’s a powerful businessman, the kind whose name carries weight in political circles and boardrooms alike. But beneath that…” Sasuke exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “He’s rumored to have deep ties to the city’s underground.”

Sakura’s jaw went slack, her breath catching in her throat. One of the most influential? She had known the man was wealthy—his tailored suit, his effortless arrogance, the way people seemed to move around him like shadows avoiding the sun had all made that clear. But this?

Is this some kind of joke?

She shook her head, trying to piece together the implications. “Wait a minute,” she said, her voice edged with disbelief. “What kind of underground ties are we talking about?”

The kind that could make people disappear without a trace. The kind that involved drugs, weapons, laundering—there was hardly a corner of Tokyo’s underbelly that he doesn’t have a hand in.

But Sasuke didn’t say any of that. He simply stared at her, the tension in his posture making it clear that there were things he wasn’t ready to voice.

Sakura could push—demand answers. But she had known Sasuke long enough to recognize the walls when they went up, and right now, he was fortifying them. So she decided to drop the subject before he shut down the conversation entirely. She knew she’d have to revisit that question another time.

Sasuke’s reaction toward Madara was starting to make more sense, but something still didn’t sit right. There was a weight to his words, a sharpness to his disdain that felt too personal. 

And then there was the name.

Sakura’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table as she studied him, her heart beating a little faster.

“Do you know him, Sasuke-kun?” She ventured cautiously, her voice soft but steady. “You two have the same last name.”

Sasuke stilled. For just a fraction of a second, something flickered across his face—something raw and unguarded. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, buried beneath the steely mask he always wore when he didn’t want to talk.

“He’s an arrogant and vile man who spends his money to be accompanied by younger women.” His voice was sharp, edged with something more than disgust. “Promise me you won’t see him again.”

The request almost made her laugh out loud. Did he really think she needed to be told? As if, given a choice, she would ever willingly cross paths with that man again. Did Sasuke truly believe she’d be reckless enough to entertain another meeting with Uchiha Madara?

She rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply in indignation. “Sasuke-kun, it wasn’t even supposed to be me on that date. I doubt he’d ever contact me again—or even know how to reach me.”

Sasuke wanted to tear into her again—wanted to drill into her head just how naïve she was being. People can be found so much easier in the city than in the countryside. A name, a connection, the right amount of money—none of it was hard. But he didn’t have the energy for that argument right now. He just needed her to understand the one thing that mattered.

“But if he does, you’ll tell me,” Sasuke insisted firmly.

Sakura let out a groan, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Sure, Sasuke-kun. If the man I literally threatened with a knife decides he wants a second round of that disaster, you’ll be the first to know.”

She let out a short, amused laugh, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. But when she glanced back at Sasuke, his face remained rigid, his jaw tight. His dark eyes held none of the humor she expected.

“Oh, come on, Sasuke-kun. It was just a fluke that I even came into contact with him in the first place,” Sakura reassured him, her voice soft but tinged with frustration. She shifted her weight uncomfortably, trying to ease the tightness in the air. “I doubt we’ll ever see him again.”

Sasuke bit his lip in thought, his brow furrowing. His gaze remained distant, unfocused, the weight of the situation clearly still gnawing at him.

“Given how you handled the meeting, let’s hope so,” Sasuke said curtly, rising to make a call outside the apartment.

Sakura watched him go, biting back the impulse to make a remark. Instead, she crossed her arms defensively over her chest.

“Rude,” she muttered indignantly. Her words were almost drowned out by the soft click of the door closing behind Sasuke. It wasn’t like he was wrong—she had suggested the same thing earlier, but her stubbornness refused to let her take responsibility for the disastrous date. “That man ruined it first.”

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke rarely reached out to his older brother. So when Itachi’s phone lit up with Sasuke’s name, Itachi couldn’t help but feel a bit excited.

“How are you, little brother?” Itachi greeted, his voice warm, though he was cut off before he could finish the sentence.

“Nii-san, Madara saw Sakura.” Sasuke’s words came through fast and sharp. Itachi could almost feel Sasuke’s anxiety bleeding through the line.

He chuckled softly, amused by Sasuke’s directness and complete disregard for pleasantries. 

“I’m fine, too; thanks for asking, Sasuke,” Itachi teased, his voice light and playful, though he could easily imagine his brother’s furrowed brow and clenched jaw on the other end of the line.

Sasuke’s impatience came through in a tight burst of words. “Did you not hear what I just said?” The urgency in his tone made Itachi’s smile fade slightly. It was a rare thing to hear Sasuke this rattled.

Itachi let out a defeated sigh. “I did; were you with Sakura-san?” He asked, his mind already running through the possibilities.

“No,” Sasuke replied quickly. “I didn’t even know they were meeting.”

Itachi kept his tone calm, measured. “Did she mention you to Madara?”

“I don’t think so,” Sasuke answered, his words clipped. “Not from what she told me.”

Itachi exhaled slowly, trying to ease the tension creeping into his own chest. “Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” He reassured Sasuke. “I’m sure Madara is none the wiser about our situation.”

“This is not about us, nii-san! They went on a date!”

Itachi’s brow furrowed in surprise at Sasuke’s revelation. The thought of Sakura going on a date with a man more than twice her age, Madara no less, was a scenario he had never imagined nor prepared for. The idea irked him, causing a strange knot of protectiveness tightening in his chest. But he forced himself to push those feelings aside when he knew his brother couldn’t.

“She’s an adult, is she not?” Itachi’s voice remained measured, though beneath the calm, there was a hint of concern that he fought to hide. “I’m sure she knows what she is doing.”

But Sasuke’s response was sharp, laced with a raw edge of frustration and a flicker of fear. “She didn’t even know who Madara was. I have to explain how stupid her decision was.”

Itachi could understand the frustration. It made a lot more sense if it was a blind date. Still, the harshness in Sasuke’s judgment made him uneasy. He’d hoped his brother would take a more measured approach, but the intensity in his voice made it clear that wasn’t happening.

“I hope you know that was really uncalled for, little brother,” Itachi remarked calmly, though his voice tinged with disapproval.

“He fucking choked and threatened her!” Sasuke retorted, his voice cracking with anger. “I don’t think it’s uncalled for to warn her about that psycho!”

Itachi’s eyes widened in alarm as he processed the seriousness of Sasuke’s accusation. Though given that the first thing Sasuke did after calling him was to inform him about the meeting and not Sakura’s condition, she was likely fine. Sakura was resilient and capable—he knew that for certain. She could take care of herself, even if she faced someone like Madara. 

Itachi also couldn’t ignore the fact that key details were missing. Madara, ruthless and manipulative as he was, was not the type to act without a reason. And while Itachi had no doubt that Madara could be dangerous, he also knew that Sasuke’s account was likely colored by his protective instincts—instincts that often clouded his judgment when it came to Sakura. Faced with the situation as it stood currently, there wasn’t much Itachi could do to change what had already happened.

“Are they planning to meet again?” Itachi asked.

“Are you crazy?” Sasuke’s voice flared with panic, a sharp edge to it. “I’m not letting that happen!”

“Alright then, little brother,” Itachi relented, his voice softer, a touch of resignation creeping into his tone. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know; can’t you somehow keep him away from her?” Sasuke replied, his frustration palpable in his voice.

Itachi rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. The request was simple enough, but the reality of it was far more complex. “All I have are connections, Sasuke,” he said, his voice low, carrying a quiet frustration that was rare for him. “I’m not a miracle worker. I can’t force anyone to do anything.”

Even if he somehow managed to keep Madara away, what would he do if Sakura was the one who sought the man out instead?

The truth was, Madara was also not someone who could be easily controlled—not even by someone as calculating as Itachi. That fact alone had made orchestrating his plan for Madara and the future of Kobu an immense undertaking, one that had and was still consuming the better part of his life. Every step had required precision; every decision weighed against countless possibilities.

In the grand scheme of things, this situation was a mere distraction. Yet he also knew it was a distraction he couldn’t ignore, not with the risk involved. But trying to intervene without a clear strategy would only escalate the situation, potentially making it worse. Itachi knew that much.

“What have you said to her so far?” Itachi asked, his voice calm but probing, trying to gather the facts.

Sasuke’s reply was immediate, brimming with impatience. “That she should never see him again and let me know the second he makes any contact.”

Itachi let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. His brother really had no tact. Itachi doubted Sasuke even realized the full extent of his actions. By laying down such firm rules, Sasuke hadn’t just interfered in Sakura’s personal life—he’d essentially tried to control it. Had Sasuke learned nothing from their father? No, perhaps that was exactly why Sasuke was acting the way he did.

He understood Sasuke’s protective reasoning, but such a strong reaction might not be the best way to approach this delicate situation. Sasuke, of all people, should know that banning someone from doing something would only make them want to do it more. Not to mention the fact that Sakura didn’t even know who Madara was nor his relation to them.

“Have you told her about our clan’s connection, Sasuke?” Itachi asked, needing to know where things stood.

“What?” Sasuke’s voice came back incredulous. “Nii-san, don’t you also like her?”

Itachi already knew where this conversation was heading, but he answered his brother anyway, choosing his words carefully. “I am very fond of Sakura-san, yes.”

“Then don’t tell her what she doesn’t need to know unless you want that to be the last you see of her,” Sasuke asserted.

Itachi leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed in contemplation of Sasuke’s words. The depth of Sasuke’s anger and his protective stance toward Sakura was clear, but Itachi could see the danger in his brother’s black-and-white approach.

“If you want to help Sakura,” Itachi said slowly, his voice firm yet patient, “then I suggest you at least let her know who she is dealing with. Let her see the full picture. Then, and only then, can she make her own decision.”

Sasuke knew Itachi was right—that he was stepping way outside of his lane. But with Madara involved in any way, Sasuke couldn’t afford to take chances. The thought of Sakura being potentially entangled with someone as dangerous as Madara unsettled him deeply. If there was even the slightest chance that Sakura wouldn’t be deterred from seeing Madara after learning about him, Sasuke felt compelled to intervene. 

Keeping his family’s business hidden from Sakura until now had been a delicate balancing act. He’d managed to keep her out of his and Itachi’s world to prevent her from uncovering the complicated history that had shaped them both. But now, with Madara looming in the picture, Sasuke feared that maintaining this secrecy would become even more challenging. Yet, despite the rising tide of uncertainty, he wasn’t about to give up.

“That’s just fucking stupid, nii-san,” Sasuke remarked sharply. “Just don’t tell her. I’ll figure something out.”

The finality in his voice was unmistakable. Itachi had always been the reasonable one, the one who saw the bigger picture, but Sasuke didn’t have the luxury of waiting and hoping for the perfect solution from Itachi now. With a harsh exhale, Sasuke ended the call abruptly. He couldn’t bear to hear any more of Itachi’s calm reasoning.

Itachi sighed softly, holding the phone for a moment after the line was cut off. Sasuke was getting more attached to Sakura than he had initially thought, though he could understand why. He just worried that if Sasuke continued to keep Sakura in the dark about important matters, it could strain their relationship over time. He just hoped Sasuke would find a way to navigate this challenge without jeopardizing what they had with Sakura before it was too late.

Then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated again, cutting through his thoughts. The name on the screen caused his heart to flutter unexpectedly. 

“How are you, Sakura-san?” Itachi greeted, his tone gentle, carrying the sincerity he always felt when speaking to her.

“Good afternoon, Itachi-san,” Sakura replied with that warm, considerate tone of hers. “I hope you are well.”

See? That wasn’t so hard , Itachi thought with a small chuckle. It was amusing to him how the two roommates couldn’t be more different in terms of personality and etiquette.

“What can I do for you?” Itachi asked, a bit of curiosity seeping through.

“If you’re not busy right now, could we meet somewhere?” Sakura asked tentatively, her voice dropping as though she were trying to keep their phone call confidential. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced down, only to see a message from Sasuke.

<If she contacts you, don’t tell her anything.>

With a quiet sigh, Itachi shifted his attention back to Sakura. His voice was light and casual, despite the thoughts swirling in his mind. “Well, I am craving something sweet. How about that dessert cafe near your place in half an hour?”

There was a brief pause on the other end before Sakura’s soft voice came through, full of warmth and gratitude. “Thank you so much, Itachi-san. I’ll see you there.”

The moment the line went silent as she hung up, Itachi’s phone buzzed again with Sasuke’s follow-up message.

<I’m serious. 😡>

Itachi couldn’t help but snort at the angry emoji that accompanied it. The juxtaposition of Sasuke’s stern warning and the comical emoji made Itachi smile inwardly. He knew Sasuke meant to emphasize his seriousness, but the emoji only made him appear more endearing to Itachi.

Putting his phone down, Itachi leaned back in his chair as he pondered how he would approach the situation. On one hand, Itachi understood Sasuke’s concerns, especially regarding someone like Madara, whose reputation wasn’t exactly spotless.

But on the other hand, keeping her in the dark wasn’t fair. Especially considering how close she was to Sasuke, she would likely find out eventually, and when that happened, it would likely cause even more friction. 

After a long moment of contemplation, Itachi made up his mind. He let out a heavy sigh and picked up his phone to send one more text message for the day. 

Despite his genius ability to foresee outcomes and plan ahead, Itachi hadn’t anticipated becoming his brother’s couple therapist. 

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke already had a bad feeling the moment he received Itachi’s message. The request was simple—meet him at a café near his apartment—but a knot of unease twisted in his gut.

As he strode toward the quaint little shop, the rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air, but it did nothing to soothe his growing anxiety. Then, through the large glass window, he saw them. His brother sat in the far corner, exuding his usual unreadable calm, across from her. Sakura.

Sasuke’s pulse spiked, a slow-burning irritation flaring into something sharper. His worst suspicions weren’t just confirmed—they were staring him in the face.

Was Itachi deliberately trying to piss him off? Had he called him here just to make him witness them on a date on Valentine’s Day?

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. His brother looked so damn calm, as if the weight of their last conversation—the things he had just told him about Madara—meant nothing. How could he be so indifferent?

Was this some kind of twisted test? Or was Itachi really that cruel?

Sasuke hesitated at the entrance, fingers twitching at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to turn around, to walk away before he saw something he couldn’t ignore—before the truth carved itself into him like a blade.

And yet, his feet refused to move back. Instead, something deep within him urged him forward, compelling him to approach them despite his reservations.

As he crossed the café, the warm hum of conversation and the clinking of porcelain barely registered in his ears. His focus narrowed on them. The easy familiarity between Itachi and Sakura made his stomach churn. She laughed at something he said, her expression soft and open. His brother’s calm demeanor contrasted sharply with his growing anxiety.

Then, Itachi’s gaze lifted. His dark eyes met Sasuke’s. He gestured him over with an inviting ease that only made Sasuke’s own emotions churn beneath his skin.

Sakura followed his gaze, her laughter dying in her throat the instant she saw him. Her eyes widened, her face turning a shade paler before blooming into something close to mortified confusion.

She hadn’t expected him. Sasuke could see it in the way she shifted as if caught in the middle of something she didn’t understand. Had she intended to hide this from him?

“What is the meaning of this?” Sasuke demanded, his voice low but laced with barely restrained frustration. His sharp gaze flicked between them, searching for answers.

Sakura, too, turned to Itachi, her brows furrowed, confusion and something close to betrayal flickering in her eyes.

“Have a seat, Sasuke,” Itachi said evenly, his tone infuriatingly calm.

The knot in his stomach tightened, a deep, sinking feeling settling in. He hated this—the way his control over the situation was slipping through his fingers like sand.

Yet Itachi remained unshaken, meeting his gaze with a steady, unyielding stare.

Sakura shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting between the two brothers. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, a silent battle playing out in their locked stares. 

After what felt like an eternity of tense, suffocating silence, Sasuke exhaled sharply through his nose. He yanked out the remaining chair and sat down, the scrape of wood against tile louder than it should have been. His every movement was stiff, reluctant, as if conceding even this much was a battle lost. 

For the second time that day, Sakura just wanted to exit the uncomfortable meeting she somehow found herself in.

“Now then,” Itachi turned to Sakura but clearly spoke with the purpose of informing Sasuke. “I want to thank you for telling me about what transpired between you and Madara on your date.”

Sasuke’s eye twitched. That damn word again.

“About what I asked you,” Sakura interjected nervously. “We can talk about it another time if you and Sasuke-kun need to talk right now.” 

She made a move to stand, eager to escape the suffocating tension, but Itachi raised a hand. The gesture alone was enough to pin her in place. His calm expression didn’t change, but his presence was a quiet force, pressing her back down before she could take another step.

“Sakura-san,” he said, his voice firm, laced with what Sakura could only make out as an order. “The purpose of this meeting was to tell you about our connection to Madara. Now that my brother is here, we can finally begin.”

Sasuke stiffened, the realization settling over him like ice cracking beneath his feet.

“I asked you to do one thing, nii-san,” Sasuke growled, his voice tight with frustration. The feeling of betrayal burned through his eyes, making them blaze with intensity. “Barely an hour ago, through two forms of media! What part of it did you not understand?”

Itachi’s expression was a mask of calm indifference, unfazed by Sasuke’s outburst. “I understand just fine, Sasuke,” Itachi replied, his tone slow and measured, almost clinical. “I’m doing exactly what you asked me to do... because you are going to tell Sakura-san what she wants to know.”

Sasuke stared at Itachi in disbelief.

“The hell I am,” he bit out, his frustration boiling over. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, his posture stiff with irritation. His gaze shifted momentarily to Sakura, and an uneasy knot tightened in his stomach.

He shouldn’t have stepped foot in this café in the first place after seeing her, but he didn’t trust his brother enough to leave Sakura alone with him either. Now that he was here, Sasuke was unsure of the best move to make.

From the time he had known her, Sakura had always been stubborn and persistent in pursuing what she wanted. He’d seen it in the way she threw herself into her studies, often with such intensity it seemed as if nothing else existed. He’d seen it in how she’d managed to break through the crusty exterior of their grumpy old neighbor, winning her over with determination that had left even Sasuke in awe.

If he walked out now, even though Itachi might not divulge, Sasuke couldn’t shake the fear that Sakura would unknowingly entangle with other members of their unsavory family if this situation was any indication. 

Sasuke knew Itachi was right. Sasuke knew his brother had likely predicted this. But that didn’t make the sting of his brother’s betrayal any less sharp. Informing Itachi in the first place had been a mistake, but walking away now would have been far worse. This conversation, however awkward and nerve-wracking, was still far safer than leaving her to uncover the truth on her own. And that was a catastrophe he wasn’t willing to risk.

“Fine,” Sasuke grumbled, his voice low and edged with irritation. His glare never left Itachi, whose smile only seemed to widen. He hated when his brother was right, which was far too often. “What do you want to know?”

Sakura glanced at Itachi in surprise. She hadn’t expected Sasuke to give in so easily—or at all. He was stubborn, fiercely so, especially when it came to things he wanted to keep hidden. But now that he had given her permission, a strange mix of anticipation and unease settled in her chest.

She straightened her posture, her back stiffening as if bracing herself. Her hands pressed firmly into her knees, the pressure grounding her, yet it did little to steady the uncertainty lingering in her voice.

“I want to know who Uchiha Madara is.”

Sasuke’s frown deepened. “I already told you who he is; he’s one of the ri—”

“You already told me that,” Sakura cut in, her voice laced with an undercurrent of anxiety. “I want to know who Uchiha Madara is to you.”

Sasuke’s glare shifted, now aimed squarely at Itachi, a silent accusation burning in his gaze. Itachi, however, only held that infuriating, encouraging smile—a smile that seemed to promise nothing but more frustration. Feeling exhausted, Sasuke sighed—a weariness that Sakura found more suited to Itachi’s demeanor than his own.

“He’s our uncle,” Sasuke finally muttered, the words escaping him reluctantly, as if saying them aloud cemented a truth he’d rather leave unspoken. “Our father’s half-brother.”

I knew the same last name meant something!

Sakura nodded, the revelation not entirely unexpected given what she knew about Madara. What puzzled her more was why this information seemed difficult for Sasuke to disclose. Was their relationship a secret? What else were they hiding from her?

“And about his underground ties that you mentioned before?” She pressed, her voice careful, tinged with both curiosity and apprehension.

Sasuke clicked his tongue irritably, shooting another sharp glare at Itachi, whose ever-composed expression remained unchanged. A small, almost imperceptible nod from his older brother urged him to continue.

Sasuke exhaled sharply, tension stiffening his shoulders. His voice dropped, low and strained.

“He’s the yakuza boss of the Kobu.”

Sakura did a double take, her mind scrambling to process the words. Did she hear that right? She shook her head as if trying to clear it of some absurd misunderstanding. “I’m sorry, did you just say he’s a yakuza boss?”

Sasuke let out a slow breath, his jaw tightening. “Not a yakuza boss. The yakuza boss,” Sasuke clarified. His tone carried the weight of reluctant acceptance, as if he had long since given up fighting this truth. “He runs Kobu, the biggest and most powerful gang in Tokyo.” 

Sakura stared at the two brothers, her mouth slightly parted, her thoughts racing too fast to form a coherent response.

She thought back to the first time she had laid eyes on Madara. He had been nothing like what she expected of someone associated with the yakuza. Her only exposure to that world had been through gritty, old films—scenes of shirtless men covered in intricate tattoos, their expressions hardened by violence, machetes gleaming in their hands as they prowled through dimly lit alleyways.

Madara, in contrast, was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that spoke of sophistication and authority. There had been no need for ink-stained skin or ostentatious displays of brutality—his power was woven into the very air around him. It was the way he carried himself, the effortless command in his gaze, the way people seemed to instinctively step aside in his presence.

Yet, beneath his composed exterior, there had been an aura of intimidation, sharp and ever-present, like a coiled serpent lying in wait. His presence had been imposing, exuding a sense of power that he not only possessed but knew how to wield. At the time, she had naively assumed he was a high-ranking businessman or perhaps even an incumbent politician. Now, his violent reaction to being deceived made far more sense.

“It’s highly likely he believed you were there to either assassinate him or spy on him, using a disguise as your cover,” Itachi provided, almost as if he could read her thoughts.

Sakura’s breath hitched as a phantom sensation ghosted over her skin. Instinctively, her hand lifted halfway to her neck, where the memory of Madara’s iron grip still lingered. But before she could spiral too far into the memory, a chilling realization settled in the pit of her stomach.

“Wait a minute, is this common knowledge? Does everyone know this except me?” Sakura demanded, her voice an uneven mix of disbelief and something dangerously close to fear.

Itachi shook his head. “To the public, he’s the leader of the Uchiha Enterprise, a powerful businessman with deep connections. There are whispers about his involvement in illicit activities, but nothing concrete links him to Kobu. Madara is very skilled at keeping it that way.”

A shudder ran through Sakura before she could stop it, her mind racing with questions and concerns. “If he doesn’t want people to know, then why are you telling me this?” She whispered anxiously. “Am I allowed to know this?” 

Her fear was expected. Sasuke had predicted this reaction, which was precisely the reason why this situation was so infuriating and disheartening. Did she not trust him enough? Why couldn’t she just listen to him and let the matter rest? If she did, they would never have to have this conversation—never have to shatter the fragile peace that existed between them. She could remain blissfully unaware of his family, his past, and the dark legacy that had shaped him.

Sensing Sakura’s mounting panic, Itachi chuckled softly, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. “Don’t worry about slipping up, Sakura-san,” he said, his voice almost teasing. “Most people would simply dismiss it as a conspiracy theory.”

There is no proof after all; Sakura could almost hear Itachi’s unspoken words. Perhaps that was why they could speak so openly, their conversation hidden in plain sight amidst the hum of laughter and clinking coffee cups. Had Itachi chosen this place to make exactly that point?

Her throat felt dry, but Sakura forced herself to speak. “But if he’s the yakuza boss... and he’s your uncle, does that mean…?” Her voice faltered. She looked between the two brothers, searching their faces for an answer she wasn’t sure she wanted.

She watched as Itachi’s faint frown deepened, and Sasuke refused to meet her gaze.

Sensing Sasuke’s reluctance despite his earlier agreement, Itachi spoke up to confirm her suspicion with a solemn nod.

“Yes,” he admitted. “We are technically part of Kobu, though our branch of the family is less involved.”

Sasuke scoffed at that, the bitter sound cutting through the air like a blade. Less involved—but not uninvolved.

Ignoring his brother’s silent disapproval, Itachi continued. 

The Uchiha Enterprise, founded and controlled by their lineage, had cemented itself as a dominant force in the real estate and entertainment sectors. Its reach, however, extended far beyond that, with stakes in industries as diverse as finance, infrastructure, and, more recently, the rapidly expanding realms of technology and cybersecurity.

Yet, the true extent of their power was not confined to boardrooms or corporate acquisitions. Their influence stretched into the highest echelons of politics, shaping decisions from the shadows.

Kobu, a name rarely spoken outside hushed circles, operated in that darkness, ensuring the Uchiha Enterprise’s continued dominance. Where legal methods fell short, the Kobu stepped in—securing deals, enforcing control, and maintaining order in ways that could never be traced back to the company. 

Nowhere was their presence more deeply embedded than in Kabukicho, Tokyo’s neon-lit underworld, where nightlife and entertainment flourished beneath a thin veneer of glitz and glamor. Behind the flashing lights and lavish excess, Kobu ensured that everything ultimately served their interests.

Officially, the Uchiha clan, the enterprise, and Kobu were distinct entities, each existing in separate spheres. But in reality, all three moved in unison, bound by a single force.

And at the heart of it all, pulling every string from the shadows, was one man.

“Uchiha Madara,” Sakura breathed, her voice barely audible, as her mind struggled to grasp the enormity of the network Itachi had described. The pieces were finally falling into place, but the image was so vast, so intricate, that it left her dizzy. It was no wonder Madara’s reaction to any perceived threat was so extreme; no wonder the brothers had been so cautious about revealing even a fraction of this.

The elder Uchiha nodded; his gaze softened ever so slightly. “I hope you understand why we haven’t told you about any of this until now, Sakura-san.”

Sakura shook her head slowly, her eyes lowered to her hands. The image of the yakuza—the violence, the secrecy—clashed violently with everything she thought she knew about the brothers. It was as though her mind refused to reconcile the two. 

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, the words tasting foreign, like they didn’t belong to her. She looked between Itachi and Sasuke, searching their faces, as if seeking some thread of familiarity, some reassurance. “You two are nothing like them... right?”

Her question hung in the air, thick with doubt, yet clinging to a fragile hope that she didn’t want to let go of.

Sasuke’s expression softened, though a flicker of hurt flashed in his eyes before he masked it. His voice, usually so steady, was quieter now—almost vulnerable. “I’m not a gangster, Sakura.”

Itachi’s sharp mind caught the subtle way Sasuke had spoken only for himself. “Like how, specifically, Sakura-san?” He inquired, his tone gentle yet probing.

Sakura hesitated, the stereotypical image of a yakuza still lingering in her mind despite having met Madara, who had so thoroughly shattered those worn-out clichés. Yet, whether they fit that image or not, she didn’t want to risk offending either of them, especially since she knew so little about the world they came from.

“Like in the movies?” Sakura asked, wincing internally at how naive she sounded, the words falling from her lips like a slip of the tongue. She could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but before she could withdraw, Itachi’s gaze flicked briefly to Sasuke, who gave him a look that said, “I told you so.”

She was just thankful for how patient Itachi had been with her. He hadn’t snapped or scolded her, even when her ignorance must have been painfully obvious.

“I think you are mistaking us for hooligans, Sakura-san,” Itachi said. His voice was still calm, but there was a hint of disdain threading through his words—a flicker of irritation that crept into his usually composed demeanor.

Sasuke’s gaze flickered over to Itachi, his brow furrowing in confusion. He had always known his brother didn’t approve of their father’s handling of the Kobu side branch, but he had never heard Itachi’s true thoughts on the matter before now, especially ones so critical.

“Kobu is as much a business as the Uchiha Enterprise,” Itachi continued, his voice measured, each word carefully chosen, as if he were speaking not just to Sakura but to himself as well. “They simply operate in two different worlds, using different methods.”

The silence that followed hung heavy. Sakura’s face betrayed her dissatisfaction. She looked as though she wanted to ask more—so many more questions—but something held her back. She bit her lip, her hands tightly clasped together on the table, the urge to probe deeper battling with the sense that some things were better left unspoken.

Her mind was already struggling to process it all, each new detail adding to the confusion. The faces before her were the same—Sasuke’s with its familiar sharpness, Itachi’s with its cool composure—but they felt more like strangers than ever.

The cafe around them buzzed with the sounds of clinking cups and murmured conversations, but Sakura felt an odd detachment from it all, as if she were encased in a bubble with the two brothers, the rest of the world fading into the background. The comforting, mundane noises of the cafe felt surreal, almost mocking in their normalcy compared to the secrets being unveiled.

As Sakura sat deep in thought, digesting all the information she had learned today, Sasuke began to worry. The lines of his face were tight, his gaze never leaving her as he read the conflicted emotions playing out on her face. He could see it—the confusion, the unease, the way her brow furrowed with each passing second. Regret began to gnaw at him, biting at the edges of his thoughts like a persistent, unwelcome guest.

This was a bad idea.

“Is there anything else you would like to know, Sakura-san?” Itachi’s voice sliced through the fog of her thoughts, pulling her back to the present.

Sakura blinked, struggling to piece together the scattered fragments of information swirling in her mind like leaves caught in the wind. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words tangled in her throat. “Yes, no, I meant no, Itachi-san. This has been... a lot.” Her voice trembled, a fragile mix of confusion and exhaustion coloring her tone, as if the weight of everything she had learned was finally starting to settle in.

Itachi nodded, the rare vulnerability in his expression a fleeting, almost imperceptible crack in his usually composed demeanor. “I know this had been a lot to take in. I just…” He trailed off, his words suddenly hesitant, an unusual gesture that Sakura didn’t think was possible from him. She glanced at Sasuke, noticing his brow furrowing as he watched his brother with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. “All I ask is that you continue to keep your living arrangement with my brother a secret. And know that I’m always here when you need me.”

With that, Itachi slowly pushed back his chair and stood up. The scrape of the chair against the floor seemed unnaturally loud in the almost painfully ordinary environment of the café.

“I will take my leave here,” Itachi said, his voice calm, but there was a subtle undercurrent of something—regret, perhaps, or a quiet hope—that Sakura couldn’t quite place. “I hope to see you again, Sakura-san.”

His eyes lingered on her for a long moment, his gaze softening in a way that was almost imperceptible, but enough for Sakura to catch. It was a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness.

Sakura, too, stood up from her chair, the motion feeling heavy and deliberate. She bowed, a gesture of respect and gratitude, even as her mind struggled to process everything she had learned. “Thank you for today, Itachi-san.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sakura saw Sasuke suddenly rise from his seat. His movement was sharp, almost agitated, and he glanced over at her; his expression caught somewhere between conflict and hesitation. It was as if he wanted to say something, but the words were tangled, trapped in the space between them.

Instead, he spoke quietly, almost too softly for the noise of the café to carry his words. “I need to talk to my brother.”

Her heart was pounding with a mix of concern and curiosity. She watched as Sasuke turned and began walking toward the door, his steps purposeful but still weighed down. Itachi had already started making his way toward the exit, his back straight, his movements calm but carrying an unmistakable tension.

Through the window, she observed the two brothers standing together. Itachi, as always, remained calm and composed, his posture unwavering despite the weight of their recent conversation. Sasuke, on the other hand, was visibly upset, his gestures animated and his expression tense with emotion. 

Sakura shifted in her seat, uncertain of whether she should approach them or give them space. As she waited, the ambient noise of the cafe seemed to fade away, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the lingering echoes of their revelations.

Have I done something I shouldn’t have?

Chapter Text

Sakura emerged from the cafe only after Itachi had departed, leaving her to walk home with Sasuke in a heavy silence of unspoken emotions.

Now that Itachi was no longer present, Sakura could notice an immediate shift in Sasuke’s demeanor. The tense lines around his eyes eased, and he seemed less on edge, more like his usual self around her. Yet his shoulders were hunched, a visible sign of the exhaustion that came from maintaining his emotional walls. The burden of secrecy seemed to have drained him, leaving him caught in the space between relief and unease.

Upon reaching home, they moved around each other carefully, avoiding eye contact. The routines of their home, once comforting and familiar, now seemed distant and hollow, as if belonging to someone else’s life. 

Sasuke remained in the common area; his usual place felt strangely unfamiliar. He sat in silence, his gaze unfocused, staring at nothing yet seeing too much. His thoughts were consumed by the revelations of the day that had shattered their previous understanding of each other.

Meanwhile, Sakura found refuge in the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click. The cool tiles under her feet grounded her, but the chill did little to quiet the chaos in her mind. It felt as if an invisible barrier had been erected between them, and she struggled to comprehend how to breach it, or if it was even possible.

That night, they set up their sleeping arrangements as they had every night for the past five months. Their futons were closer than ever, but the space between them was no longer measured in distances but in silence, in the hesitation that had never existed before. There was no shuffling of blankets, no soft sighs of sleep.

Underneath the same roof they had called home, Sasuke lay in the deafening darkness of their shared room. Regret, uncertainty, and desperation churned within him.

Beside him, Sakura lay awake, her mind racing like a stormy sky. She was acutely aware of Sasuke’s presence right next to her, yet the emotional distance felt insurmountable. 

What was once a comforting silence between them had curdled into something suffocating—worse than the distant quiet that had filled their earliest days of living together. Back then, she had filled the space with nervous chatter. But now she didn’t know how to salvage what they had. 

She had ruined everything. And she hated herself for it.

Finally, with a voice that felt foreign and brittle in the stillness, she broke the silence. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words scraping against her dry throat, as if it were the first time she had spoken all day.

In the darkness, Sasuke shifted slightly, his body angling just enough toward Sakura’s direction, though he kept his back to her. The silence stretched taut between them until he finally replied.

“Why are you apologizing?” His tone was low, carrying a hint of anger that Sakura couldn’t tell if it was meant for her or himself.

Her stomach twisted, a slow, sinking weight of guilt. She had pried into something he wasn’t ready to share, cracked open the carefully built walls he relied on.

“Because I went behind your back,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I forced you to tell me about your family.”

A beat of silence. Then Sasuke shook his head—a small, almost imperceptible movement, but enough for Sakura to notice.

“Itachi was right,” Sasuke murmured, his voice softer now, the sharp edges of his earlier tone dulled by something closer to resignation. 

“You would have found out eventually,” he continued. “I’d rather you heard it from me than from someone else.”

Now that he had time to think back on it, he really was foolish to believe he could keep it from her forever. She would find out about Madara eventually, especially if she continued to live in Tokyo. Making the connection back to him was only a matter of time. It was his fault to begin with to think he could keep this peaceful, ignorant life with her continue forever and keep it untouched by the past.

Sakura listened, her heart tightening with guilt. She had unwittingly shattered the fragile peace they had cultivated in their shared home, exposing Sasuke to a reality he had fought to shield her from. She had pushed him into a confrontation he wasn’t ready for and involved Itachi on top of that.

“I guess I just didn’t think that your brother would go behind both of our backs like that,” Sakura admitted softly, disappointment threading through her voice.

Sasuke scoffed, the sound filled with bitterness. “Don’t let his gentle act fool you. He can be as ruthless and cunning as any member of Kobu.” 

It’s in our blood , Sasuke wanted to say, but voicing it felt like acknowledging a reality he struggled to accept, a familial trait he wished to disown. He didn’t want to be defined by his family’s legacy.

Sakura nodded slowly. She hated that she could hear the biting self-loathing in his voice.

“I don’t think you’re any of those things, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura said earnestly. She needed him to hear it—to believe it, even if only for a second.

For a long moment, Sasuke remained silent, and Sakura thought he had decided to turn in, but then he spoke, his voice breaking the silence like a fragile thread unraveling.

“No, I don’t want to be, but father was strict on both of us,” Sasuke admitted. It was the first time since they had met that he had broached the topic of his parents.

“Your father, Madara‘s half-brother?”

Sasuke’s response was quiet, almost distant, his tone tinged with an unmistakable bitterness. “Uchiha Fugaku, the Kobu branch's head.”

Sakura’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. She had gathered fragments of information about the Uchiha brothers and their ties to the Kobu during her conversation with Itachi, but the revelation that Sasuke and Itachi were sons of one of the bosses hit her like a cold wave.

Sasuke’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and bitter. “He grew up in the time when the Kobu were… what you saw in those movies.”

Sakura suppressed a cringe of embarrassment at her own naivity, thankful that Sasuke couldn’t see her reaction. Her outdated assumptions about the yakuza world now seemed painfully inadequate.

“He saw every neighborhood as a conquest, every fight as a way to gain power and honor,” Sasuke continued. “He taught us to fight and sent us to school with weapons in our bags so that when we’re old enough, we will fight for him as he did for the Kobu, not realizing that those days are far gone.”

As Sakura reflected on Sasuke’s words, her mind flashed back to earlier days when Sasuke had handled a knife so effortlessly, almost instinctively, a skill that was unnervingly reminiscent of a different kind of proficiency.

Sasuke, she realized, had a quickness to resort to violence, a trait surely born out of survival in a world where strength and loyalty were valued above all else. Yet in contrast, Itachi’s calm demeanor and strategic thinking were traits that seemed at odds with their shared upbringing under the shadow of their father’s ambitions.

“Is your brother going to be the next boss?” Sakura ventured, her voice filled with curiosity.

Sasuke’s response was clipped, terse. “That was my father’s original plan.”

“Original?” Sakura pressed.

“My brother is the only one who not only met but exceeded my father’s impossible expectations,” Sasuke admitted, and there was self-loathing in his voice again. “But my father realized quickly that his eldest son was too smart and too cunning. And worst, he is working closely with my father’s rival.”

“Rival?” Sakura’s voice was a soft question, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Sasuke nodded solemnly. “Uchiha Madara,” he began, finally turning to face Sakura fully. “My father believes he should have been the head of the main house, being the elder. But to become the next Oyabun, one needs the endorsement of both the current Oyabun and the elders, who had no objections, but the Oyabun at the time disagreed. He saw my father as stuck in the past, trying to revive the old dominance of Kobu in Tokyo.”

Sakura absorbed the information, her thoughts racing back to their earlier conversation at the café with Itachi about the dual nature of Kobu and the Uchiha enterprise—two sides of the same coin. 

“So instead, your brother and Madara are planning to run the Kobu like an underground business?” Sakura ventured, trying to piece together the puzzle.

Sasuke confirmed with a nod, a gesture barely visible in the darkness of their shared room. “Or at least that’s what Itachi wanted Madara to believe anyway.”

Sakura furrowed her brow, confusion creeping in despite her efforts to understand Itachi’s intentions. “What does that mean?”

Sasuke sighed softly. He couldn’t help but wonder why he was opening up about these family intricacies to Sakura, yet he felt a strange pull to share. 

“I don’t know,” he continued, his voice dropping into a low, contemplative murmur. 

Sasuke didn’t have any proof about what he was saying, and Itachi was very good at keeping information from him, just as Madara was good at ensuring that no one could ever draw a straight line between Kobu, the Uchiha enterprise, and their clan in extension. 

But if there was one thing he knew about his brother, it was that Itachi never acted without purpose. Every move was calculated, every choice deliberate. If he was entangled with Madara, it wasn’t out of desire—it was out of necessity.

“Itachi is sly, but he has a strong sense of morality. Working with Madara to run an underground business just doesn’t sound like him. I only know that he’s planning something big, which means he’s unlikely to be working alone.” And if his brother had set his sights on Madara, then it couldn’t bode well for Kobu and its leaders. In fact, this could lead to the end of Kobu itself.

Sakura shuddered. Everything Sasuke revealed about his brother seemed so far removed from the calm, gentle image she had built in her mind.

“Your brother is scary,” she remarked bluntly, the words slipping out before she could soften them.

Sasuke couldn’t help but snort at the comment, a brief flicker of amusement amidst the seriousness of their discussion.

“Tell me about it,” he replied dryly. 

But the levity was fleeting, a single crack in the heavy atmosphere before the silence swallowed them once more. This time, it lingered, thick and unmoving. And then, after what felt like an eternity, Sasuke was the one to break it.

“I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Sasuke’s words lingered in the quiet. The apology caught Sakura off guard, threading its way through the tangle of emotions stirring inside her. 

Sakura’s grip tightened on the blanket, pulling it closer until the fabric brushed against her chin, seeking comfort in its fabric. She wanted to respond, to say something that would ease the tension pressing in around them, but the right words refused to come. So she stayed silent, waiting, giving him space to say more.

The dim light of the room cast shifting shadows across Sasuke’s face, accentuating the lines of worry and guilt that etched his features. Sakura studied him quietly, searching for the Sasuke she had come to know beneath the layers of secrecy.

“I didn’t want you to see me differently,” Sasuke finally admitted, his voice tinged with regret and vulnerability. 

I didn’t want you to be scared of me. 

When he told her his last name for the first time, he thought that he was finally able to have a life separate from the curse of his clan. But illusions never lasted. He should have known that no matter how much he ran, he couldn’t escape from where he came from. There was no outrunning who he was.

Sakura hesitated; the words tangled somewhere between her mind and her throat. All she ever wanted was to understand him. She just never imagined that the truth was so heavy.

“I don’t know if that’s possib—”

“Do you want me to move out?”

Sakura jolted upright in her futon, her heart lurching at the sudden question. “What? No!” The intensity in her voice startled even her—an unfiltered mix of surprise and earnestness. Sasuke blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then, ever so slightly, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders losing just a fraction of their tension.

“I can’t pay for the rent by myself!”

Sasuke glanced at her, feeling an unexpected wave of deflation. For a moment, he had let himself hope—hope that maybe she wanted him to stay for reasons beyond convenience. He had been ready to offer to cover half the rent until the end of the lease if he was going to crawl back to his father anyway, but Sakura had beaten him to it.

“Also, I’m already used to having you around and I..." Sakura trailed off, nervously playing with the end of her hair. In the dimly lit room, they were both grateful for the cover of darkness. “I trust you... a lot.” The words landed softly, but their weight was anything but light.

Sakura winced almost immediately, as if regretting the confession, as if afraid she had said too much. Had she revealed something selfish? Had she made him feel pressured by her feelings?

Sasuke paused, her words echoing in his mind. A young woman, alone in a vast city, living with a man she barely knew—a man tied to the yakuza, no less. And yet, she trusted him implicitly. Yet she still wanted to stay with him. Does she not have any common sense? 

He had been trying, in his own way, to teach her how to survive here—to sharpen her instincts, to help her navigate a world that wasn’t always kind. But if this was the result of his lessons, he had clearly failed. Why was she putting her faith in someone even his own father doubted?

She is still too trusting and naïve for her own good. 

“Aren’t you scared of the yakuza?” Sasuke asked suddenly, pulling her attention to him.

Sakura didn’t hesitate. “I am, but I’m not scared of you!” Her words were laced with conviction, but then her voice softened, wavering into something almost fragile. “I know you’re a good person, and I... I feel safe with you.”

Sasuke stilled. A feeling—unfamiliar yet warm—swelled in his chest. He didn’t realize how much those words mean to him until now, even after everything that had been revealed. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—an expression so rare, so vulnerable that he quickly masked it in the shadows. The dim light of the room cloaked his features, and he was silently thankful for that. But he couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through him at her simple declaration.

Maybe Itachi had been right all along. Maybe Sasuke had been so afraid of losing Sakura that he had underestimated the strength of their bond. He had told her all about his fucked-up family, yet she chose to remain by his side. Her opinion of him may have shifted, but she still trusted him, and that was all he could ask of her. Now, he just has to work harder to prove to her that his last name does not define who he is. 

“Are you upset that I keep you in the dark?” Sasuke asked quietly. It was a question that had been eating at him for a while.

Sakura paused, her gaze softening as she took in his words. “I don’t blame you,” she admitted, her tone gentle, honest. There was no accusation in her voice, just a quiet understanding. “I don’t know if I wouldn’t have done the same if I were in your shoes.”

Sasuke exhaled, a quiet sigh escaping him. Her words, though forgiving, left him feeling both relieved and burdened—relieved that she wasn’t angry yet burdened by the weight of all the things he had kept from her. She was the only normal thing in his life, even though their future together might not stay that way.

“I just don’t want to lose you...” His voice softened, the vulnerability in his words more honest than he’d ever allowed it to be before. But then, as if a shield of fear suddenly went up, he quickly added, “...a close friend.”

It would be a lie if Sakura said she didn’t feel a pang of disappointment—an ache deep in her chest—that Sasuke saw her only as a friend. But despite the small sting, she still cherished the growing closeness between them each day. 

She couldn’t imagine what it was like to grow up in such an environment, where choices were limited and trust was a luxury. The freedoms she took for granted back in the countryside, where people were generally trustworthy and a simple kindness wasn’t seen as a vulnerability, must have felt like a distant dream to him. It was no wonder Sasuke was so resistant to the things she considered normal. To him, it was all foreign, even dangerous.

But now, if what Sasuke needed was a friend, she would be that for him. Now that she understood a bit more of his world, she wanted Sasuke to know that, here, with her, he always had a choice.

“I’m sorry, too,” Sakura said softly, feeling a surge of honesty rise up in her chest, compelling her to confess. “For keeping that date with Madara a secret.”

Sasuke let out a tired sigh. This wasn’t the conversation he had ever imagined having with his roommate, especially not right now after everything that had happened this morning.

“I’m not mad at you for meeting with him,” Sasuke murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might break the fragile thread of calm between them. “I just don’t trust my family. Especially Madara. Especially when it involves you.”

Sakura’s cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and understanding. His reserved nature had only driven her to try harder to befriend him, understand him better, and gain his approval. Yet she realized he didn’t fully understand just how significant she had become to him until now.

“Can I ask you something, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura’s voice broke the quiet of the room.

“Hn?”

“Why did you choose to stay here?” Sakura asked, her tone gentle but laced with a deeper, unspoken question. Why didn’t you just move somewhere else, given your means?

Sasuke hesitated, contemplating his response. “My father cut me off,” he finally admitted. “And I didn’t want to rely on Itachi more than I already did.”

Sakura’s brow furrowed with concern. “What did you do to get cut off?”

His reply came quickly, almost without thought, like a wound he was used to reopening. “I ran away from home.”

Without thinking, Sakura sprang from her futon, her fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of her cover. “You did? So you’re hiding from your father?”

Sasuke nodded. He had long thought about it, but it was the acceptance letter from Tokyo University that had sealed his decision. “Itachi suggests we keep a low profile. This apartment is the safest place I could find.”

Sakura could still remember how vehemently opposed to the idea Sasuke was when Itachi suggested asking their father for help after the mixup that led to them sharing an apartment.

This place, nestled in the outskirts of the Uchiha main house’s territory, effectively shielded Sasuke from his father’s influential grasp while keeping him off the main house’s radar. Its modest rent was just another unexpected benefit.

Sakura fell quiet for a few heartbeats, her gaze fixed on him. “Why did you… run away?”

Sasuke shrugged, but the motion felt heavy, as if it carried more than just his shoulders. “I didn’t want to be my father’s puppet anymore,” he admitted, his tone sharp with defiance but softened by a thread of relief.

He was fortunate, in a way, to have Itachi on his side, even though he knew it would bring them both trouble. That was why he had honored Itachi’s request to keep his situation concealed. To the outside world and within their clan, they were still the esteemed Uchiha branch family—respected, untouchable, unshaken by the whispers. ​​Sasuke knew that Itachi’s plan and reputation, as well as their father’s standing, depended on that illusion.

“Were your parents overbearing, too?” Sakura asked softly.

Sasuke’s expression darkened, the bitterness in his voice rising. “My father hadn’t told Itachi, but he was preparing me to succeed him,” he explained, his words edged with resentment.

Sakura’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, you were going to be the next yakuza boss?”

“Unfortunately,” Sasuke nodded, confirming her question. After realizing he couldn’t control his eldest child, their father had shifted his attention to Sasuke instead. “It wasn’t exactly by choice.”

“Right… Sorry,” Sakura murmured, a hint of awkwardness in her tone. “But if it’s you, I don’t think I’d be as scared. Actually, I think you’d look... cool.” She gave a nervous laugh, slowly sinking back down onto her futon, her mind processing the image she’d just created.

Looking up at the ceiling, Sakura smiled to herself. In her mind, she pictured a different side of Sasuke—his usually stoic expression replaced by the intensity of someone who commanded attention. In her vision, he stood tall and confident, shirtless, with intricate tattoos winding across his arms and chest, his eyes sharp as they scanned the room of underlings who dared not look him in the eye.

Sasuke chuckled softly as he caught Sakura’s quiet giggle. He knew she was envisioning him as a classic yakuza figure from the olden days, with the tough exterior and dangerous allure.

“What about you?” Sasuke asked, his tone shifting slightly, curiosity pulling at him as he sought to understand her side of things. “Why did you leave home?”

Sakura’s smile faded slightly, her gaze growing distant. “I was trying to get away from my mother,” she began, recalling her mother’s disapproving expression when she had told her the news. “She has no confidence in me. She doesn’t believe I can do things on my own. So, when I got a free ride to Tokyo University, I moved out to live by myself and prove her wrong.”

“I guess you’ve only succeeded in doing one of those,” Sasuke remarked with a wry smile, the hint of amusement in his voice.

Sakura giggled softly, her laughter tinkling like windchimes in the night. “How would I have known that I would end up with an aloof, unfriendly roommate?”

“Is that what you think of me?” Sasuke’s voice softened slightly, a hint of disappointment slipping into his tone, though he knew he couldn’t really blame her. 

Sakura shrugged casually, though there was a teasing sparkle in her eyes. “That was my first impression of you, anyway.”

Sasuke snorted, shaking his head. “You didn’t fare much better. I thought you were just a clueless country girl who knew nothing about the city.”

“Hey! Who was it that taught you to cook and use the washing machine?” Sakura retorted with a grin.

Sasuke laughed, a sound so rare and pure that it never failed to make Sakura feel butterflies in her stomach. Pride swelled within her, knowing that she was the one who made him laugh. The only regret she had was that she couldn’t see the expression he was making. 

“But thanks to your cluelessness, I know you wouldn’t judge me based on my last name,” Sasuke added, his voice tinged with sadness. Sakura’s smile faltered as she recalled their earlier conversation about his family. She wasn’t as clueless about him as she was before anymore. 

“I… see you in a different light now, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura said gently, her voice a reassurance to his unease. “But you’re still you. If anything, I think I understand you a lot better today.” 

Sasuke’s lips curled upward into a small, grateful smile. He didn’t realize how liberating it could feel to have someone accept him with all his flaws and baggage until now. The weight he had been carrying seemed to lighten, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of peace.

“Thank you, Sakura.”

Sakura stiffened in her futon, caught off guard by the simplicity of Sasuke’s words. Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink as her heart skipped a beat. “Y-You’re welcome, Sasuke-kun.”

She couldn’t quite explain why those three words affected her so deeply. They lingered in her mind, causing a whirlwind of emotions she hadn’t anticipated. Her heart raced, and the warmth that spread through her chest left her exhilarating. 

It took her another hour to finally fall asleep, the racing of her heart still echoing in her ears as she replayed the moment over and over, searching for a meaning she couldn’t quite grasp.

Meanwhile, Sasuke dozed off peacefully, a serene smile gracing his face as the soft moonlight cast gentle shadows in the room.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

For the next few days, things felt like they had gone back to normal, but Sakura could still feel a tension beneath the rhythm of their daily lives like the humming of a ghost. Then, on a day as ordinary as any could be after everything they had endured, something unexpected happened. Sasuke, with his usual unreadable expression, turned to her and asked for Naruto’s number.

Sakura’s heart leaped at the request. She couldn’t help but think that this was surely a sign that her boys were finally closing the chasm between them. Without hesitation, she handed over the number, not even thinking to ask why. She watched him from afar. Hope bloomed in her chest at the thought of them connecting.

At first, Sasuke’s interactions with his phone were mild—occasional typing, short replies, a faint furrow of his brow. But soon, his muttered curses darkened into something sharper. His fingers stabbed at the screen, the tension in his shoulders coiling tighter with every passing second. Then, without warning, he shoved the device into his pocket and stormed toward the door.

Sakura’s excitement twisted into resignation as the door slammed shut behind him. Whatever had been said between them, it hadn’t been the reconciliation she had hoped for.

The moment Sasuke exited the apartment, he had hopped on the next train toward Kabukicho. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels barely registered in his mind, drowned out by his frustration. The neon lights and bustling streets of Kabukicho blurred as he made his way to Ichiraku, his anger propelling him forward.

Since it was still pretty early, the place was nearly empty, with only a couple of customers quietly slurping their ramen. The scent of simmering broth and freshly chopped scallions hit him the moment he stepped inside, but Sasuke’s senses were focused on one thing.

Behind the counter, Naruto looked up from wiping a bowl. The moment his blue eyes landed on Sasuke, his expression twisted in a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

“You bastard, why are you here?” Naruto groaned, tossing the rag onto the counter. His voice carried that familiar, exasperated lilt—half complaint, half challenge.

Just minutes earlier, Naruto had called Sakura, irritation lacing his tone as he demanded she make Sasuke unblock his number so he could have the last word in their argument. But instead of compliance, he got a dry chuckle and an unbothered response. Sakura then informed him that her roommate had stormed out. 

It didn’t take a genius to see that this was another dumb fight between the two boys and Sakura didn’t want to be a part of it. The thought of intervening in their endless squabbles had made her sigh, a mix of exasperation and fondness.

Now, as Sasuke stood in the dimly lit ramen shop, his dark eyes locked onto Naruto with the intensity of a brewing storm. This fight, whatever it was about, was theirs to settle.

Naruto’s blue eyes narrowed, and Sasuke’s jaw tightened. Neither moved, neither blinked. They were caught in the familiar dance of stubbornness, where pride mattered more than reason. The smell of rich broth and freshly cooked noodles seemed out of place in the midst of their confrontation.

Finally, Sasuke broke the silence. “I’m here to apply for the part-time position,” he stated, his voice cold, clipped.

Naruto scoffed, his lips curling into a mocking smile, one that infuriated Sasuke more than words ever could. “Is that the tone you use to ask for one?” Naruto asked, leaning casually against the counter. “I already told you what it will take.”

Sasuke’s fingers twitched at his side. His patience, already frayed, snapped. “I’m not going to move out, idiot,” he bit out, his voice sharp with defiance. There was no way he was giving up that place next to Sakura, especially not after she made it clear that she accepted him for who he was. 

Naruto exhaled sharply. “And why not?” Naruto retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “You clearly have the means to if you’d just accept Itachi’s help. Sakura has some income now, and I can cover the rest.”

Sasuke’s scowl deepened. “How do you know about Itachi?” He asked, his voice laced with suspicion. He had never spoken of his brother to Naruto.

Naruto’s smirk widened, an irritating glint of triumph in his blue eyes. “He used to visit my parents with your father,” Naruto explained. “I knew he had a younger brother—I just didn’t realize it was you until recently.”

Naruto watched as realization dawned on Sasuke, the sharp lines of his expression shifting ever so slightly. He could practically see the gears turning in the other boy’s mind, fitting long-forgotten fragments of memory into place.

Sasuke’s thoughts reeled back to his childhood—the faint murmur of his father’s voice, the measured weight of his footsteps as he prepared for another one of those cryptic visits. He remembered the way Itachi, still young but already burdened with expectations to succeed, would stand tall at their father’s side, absorbing every lesson, every unspoken command.

Their father would bring gifts and make promises to allies, showcasing Itachi’s capabilities and potential as the future Oyabun. Now, Sasuke understood where and who they were visiting. It was just like his father to seek support from even the Uzumaki.

Naruto, still just a kid at the time, had never been allowed to stay for the entirety of those meetings, always shooed away before the real discussions began. But he had picked up enough. Even as a child, he had understood that these weren’t casual visits; they were dealings, negotiations wrapped in formality.

Fugaku almost never spoke of Sasuke. His focus remained on Itachi, the prodigy, the heir. The younger Uchiha’s name only surfaced when someone else brought it up, and even then, the mentions were brief, dismissive. It wasn’t hard for Naruto to piece together their sibling relationship.

“I… have my reasons for not moving out,” Sasuke said at last, giving Naruto a pointed look. “You need to trust me that I do not have any bad intentions with Sakura.”

Naruto glared at Sasuke, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit. But Sasuke, as always, remained an enigma—frustratingly guarded, yet somehow, in this moment, unmistakably sincere. After what felt like an eternity, Naruto exhaled heavily, the fight draining from his shoulders as he ran a frustrated hand through his blonde hair.

He hated to admit it, but he did trust Sasuke—if only a little. As much as he wanted to argue, to push Sasuke into leaving, he knew it was pointless. The decision didn’t belong to him nor Sasuke; the only one who truly had a say in the matter was Sakura herself.

“I know,” Naruto admitted, “Itachi already told me.”

Sasuke’s eyes flickered with surprise, a single brow lifting. “How much did he tell you?”

Naruto shrugged, the rigid tension in his posture loosening just slightly. “About his plan? Enough,” he said.

Sasuke fought to keep his expression neutral. It made sense that Itachi had confided in the Uzumaki’s clan heir—after all, their father had laid the foundation long before Sasuke could even understand what was happening. Itachi was simply continuing the work, quietly sowing the seeds that had been planted years ago. Yet Sasuke knew his brother well enough to understand that the full details of the plan were kept tightly under wraps. Only a select few—if anyone at all—were privy to the intricacies. 

Sasuke didn’t like the thought that someone so close to Sakura was entangled with Itachi’s plan, but he was also aware that both of them were united in their desire to keep her safe and out of this mess. However, his close relationship with Itachi was working against him in earning Naruto’s trust. The blonde’s gaze was full of suspicion and caution, a reminder of the precariousness of their alliance.

And then there was Madara. Who knew what that man would do if he ever found out about the existence of ‘a plan’? Madara’s ruthlessness and the extent to which he would go to get back at Itachi were terrifying unknowns. 

Sasuke knew the only reason Naruto put up with him was due to how much Sakura placed her trust in him. And that trust was the only thing keeping this fragile truce alive. Still, the truce existed, and he needed to make use of it—before it completely unraveled.

“Then you should know that Sakura is aware of the plan’s existence.” Sasuke’s sudden statement hung in the air like a thunderclap, causing Naruto to snap his head around, eyes blazing with confusion and anger.

“What? And whose great idea is that?!” Naruto’s voice rose, each word laced with a mix of betrayal and disbelief. “Itachi told me that she would not be involved in any part of it!”

Sasuke remained unshaken, even as the storm of anger and hurt rolled off Naruto in waves. There was a strange satisfaction in knowing that Sakura had unwittingly complicated things for Itachi far more than she could ever realize. She had no idea how deeply she had stirred the pot, and Sasuke couldn’t help but feel a bitter sense of vindication.

His brother, ever the composed, righteous man, was a coward that day at the café. His brother had acted in what he believed was Sakura’s best interest, but Itachi had also left him to clean up the fallout of the secret he was forced to reveal—forced to pick up the shattered pieces of his fractured relationship with Sakura. 

Sasuke knew Itachi had resigned himself to never seeing Sakura again in that moment. In fact, his brother liked to portray himself as a cold, calculated man when necessary, but Sasuke knew it was because Itachi had been too much of a coward to sever ties with her himself. If Sakura had chosen to walk away from them for good, then Itachi would have someone else to blame besides himself.

So now, if Itachi didn’t have the courage to tell Sakura how tangled his involvement with Madara was, then he would. In fact, he could throw a wrench in Itachi’s plan right now by losing Naruto’s trust and support, but Sasuke knew it would serve no one but his wounded ego. He would do anything to keep Sakura safe, even if it was working with Naruto, even if it meant following through on what Itachi had told him to do that day at the café.

“She’s not,” Sasuke said. Though his voice was calm, there was a hint of annoyance. “But she needed to be made aware when she had involved herself with both my brother and Madara.”

“Madara?” Naruto’s voice cracked, a tremor of disbelief threading through it. His confusion morphed into a fierce, protective anger. “She has no reason to have any contact with that man, so why the hell would she, you filthy liar?”

“You are losing focus on the main point, you idiot!” Sasuke snapped, his anger finally seeping through the cracks of his composed demeanor. “Why do you think I was against her working here in Kabukicho in the first place?”

“So you want me to fire her?” Naruto retorted, his voice biting and sharp, mirroring Sasuke’s frustration.

“No! Don’t you get it?” Sasuke dragged his hand down his tired face. Was this the frustration  Itachi experienced when they were on the phone talking about Sakura being seen with Madara? If so, then why hadn’t he told Naruto what he had told him?

Naruto, despite his seething anger, still couldn’t fully grasp the situation. Sasuke saw it in his eyes—the confusion, the frustration. It wasn’t entirely his fault—he didn’t know about the events of the past few days. He didn’t know about it when he recruited Sakura for Ichiraku either, though Sasuke still believed that was a selfish and reckless decision, even if it was made with good intentions.

“We can’t undo the past,” Sasuke said, his voice tinged with regret as he recalled what Itachi had told him over the phone. “You laid out all the benefits to convince her, but ultimately, it was her choice to come work with you. It was never my choice to drag her into this mess, but at least she was given all the information to make her own decision.”

Sasuke paused, feeling the weight of his words press down on him. He was raised up in a condition where his life was never his, a life where choice was a luxury he never could afford.  Sakura had understood this and she had made it her mission to always ensure he had a say. Yet, in his desperation, he had overstepped. He had tried to restrict her choices, tried to protect her by taking away her autonomy. And now, looking back, he regretted it deeply. 

“I’ll support her now, no matter what she decides, and I suggest you consider doing the same,” Sasuke continued, his voice softening, a quiet resolve settling in.

Naruto was momentarily quiet as he processed Sasuke’s words, but just as he opened his mouth to reply, a voice interrupted. 

“What’s with all the yelling?”

A brunette woman, her dark hair pulled back and a white apron tied loosely around her waist, stepped out from the kitchen. The glare the two both shoot at each other communicates the end of the argument. 

“Ayame-nee!” Naruto greeted, forcing a casual tone into his voice, though it was clear he was struggling to mask the tension that still hung thick in the air. His eyes flickered briefly toward Sasuke before darting back to Ayame, trying to avoid any awkwardness.

Ayame’s eyes widened as she stepped forward, noticing Sasuke for the first time. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and she seemed momentarily flustered by his presence. “Who is this handsome boy? Is he your friend, Naruto-kun?” Her tone was filled with the warmth and friendliness she always carried with her.

Naruto’s scowl deepened, a flash of irritation flickering in his eyes. “No, he’s just here to ask for a part-time job,” he muttered.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Ayame exclaimed, her enthusiasm completely at odds with the charged atmosphere. “What’s your name?”

“Sasuke,” he replied, his voice carefully measured as he intentionally left out his last name. If Ayame found his guarded response suspicious, she didn’t show it. Instead, she studied his face thoughtfully, as if contemplating something that was just out of reach.

“You’re not single, are you, Sasuke-kun?” Ayame asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Then, as if a thought had suddenly struck her, her expression shifted to one of realization. “Oh, I know! You’re Sakura-chan’s boy—”

“No, he’s not!” Naruto interjected sharply, as if the mere suggestion had set him on edge. 

“—Sorry about that,” Ayame continued with a soft chuckle, completely unfazed by the fuming blonde beside her. She waved off Naruto’s reaction like it was nothing more than a passing breeze.

As for Sasuke, he couldn’t help but wonder how Ayame had arrived at that conclusion with just a single glance, but he decided it wasn’t the right moment to inquire. Instead, he let an unexpected flicker of pride settle within him, a quiet satisfaction that Ayame had mistaken him for someone who was important in Sakura’s life. It was a strange, almost comforting thought.

“Have you worked in environments similar to our shop before?” Ayame continued, her tone now businesslike as she shifted gears. Her eyes narrowing slightly as if measuring him against an invisible standard.

Sasuke shook his head, memories of his father’s strict schedule flashing through his mind. He had never had the time, nor the need, to work before.

Ayame hummed thoughtfully at his response. “Then do you have any skills that might be transferable?”

“I can cook,” Sasuke replied evenly.

Naruto scoffed derisively at Sasuke’s claim. He had been against hiring Sasuke from the start, a feeling that had only deepened with each word that came from the dark-haired boy’s mouth. If Sasuke was going to land the job, Naruto was determined he wouldn’t be serving customers with that arrogant, asocial attitude of his. Given Sasuke’s affluent background, Naruto doubted he even knew how to fry an egg.

“So you’ve cooked ramen before?” Ayame pressed, her brow furrowing in mild curiosity.

Sasuke shook his head again. “I’m a fast learner.”

Naruto’s second scoff was louder this time, practically dripping with contempt. “Prove it,” he muttered.

Little did Naruto know, he would soon eat his words. Sasuke, despite his lack of experience with making ramen, moved with a natural precision as he followed Ayame’s verbal instructions. The rhythm of his movements was smooth, almost hypnotic, as if he’d been doing this for years instead of mere minutes.

By the time Ayame stepped back, watching in quiet approval, Sasuke had crafted a bowl of ramen that was nearly perfect. 

“Look how thinly sliced it is, Naruto-kun,” Ayame remarked, her voice light with genuine admiration as she held up a piece of leftover green onion, its edges perfectly uniform. She had devoured the entire bowl Sasuke had prepared in mere minutes, a satisfied hum escaping her as she wiped her mouth. Though it didn’t quite meet her father’s exacting standards, the fact that Sasuke had come so close on his first attempt was nothing short of remarkable.

“I’m impressed, Sasuke-kun,” Ayame added warmly, her smile soft and approving.

Sasuke nodded in acknowledgment, his expression calm and collected, as always. Naruto, on the other hand, was befuddled, struggling to make sense of it all. The whirlwind of questions inside his mind was overwhelming, but he remained silent, watching in disbelief as Sasuke’s unexpected culinary prowess unfolded before him.

Ayame smiled warmly at Sasuke, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Did your girlfriend teach you how to cook?” 

He nodded. “She d—“

“They are not dating!” Naruto cut in again. 

Ayame tilted her head slightly, amused by the back-and-forth between the two, but she didn’t let it derail her. Instead, she leaned forward, her gaze focused on Sasuke. “One last question, Sasuke-kun,” she said, her voice now serious, almost probing. “Why do you want to work here?”

Sasuke shrugged nonchalantly, his tone casual, almost detached. “I need money.”

A tense silence filled the room as Ayame studied the boy intently. Naruto, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, braced himself. He expected Ayame to reject Sasuke’s application, to dismiss his straightforwardness as too cold, too detached for the warmth of their little shop. However, to his surprise, Ayame burst into laughter at Sasuke’s honest response.

“I can’t believe you said that with a straight face, Sasuke-kun,” she said, her laughter still bubbling. “You get the job!” She announced.

“What?!” Naruto exclaimed loudly, disbelief evident in his voice. His eyes widened as he looked from Ayame to Sasuke, and then back to Ayame again. “Ayame-nee, I gave the exact same answer and you said I lacked passion! Are you just blinded by his looks?” 

Ayame, unfazed, leaned back slightly. “Well, you also got the job, didn’t you?” She teased. “Besides, don’t be upset with me for something you lack, Naruto-kun.”

Naruto opened his mouth to argue, but then a thought flashed by that Ayame might not be referring to his passion for ramen. He placed his hands on his hips, his irritation growing, but there was an undercurrent of uncertainty in his posture. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ayame’s gaze softened for a brief moment, her expression casual as she shrugged, as if she were sharing a simple observation. “I just think Sasuke can help attract more younger customers.” 

“I’ve been doing that just fine by myself!” Naruto protested, his voice rising in defense, a little louder than before. 

“I’m not talking about attracting the male population,” Ayame added cryptically.

Naruto blinked, processing her words slowly. “Ok, now what is that supposed to mean?” He demanded, his arms crossing in an unmistakable sign of frustration. 

Seeing Naruto’s indignant pout, Ayame couldn’t resist ruffling his hair affectionately. “Stop being jealous, Naruto-kun,” she said warmly, the affection clear in her tone. “You just need to worry about that shy girl who keeps coming in here during your shift.” Her smile was mischievous now, her eyes twinkling with the knowledge of something Naruto was yet to realize.

“I told you she’s just a friend!” Naruto protested, his voice rising as his cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. 

“I never said otherwise, did I?” Ayame chuckled, clearly enjoying the sight of Naruto’s flustered reaction. Then, as if something had just occurred to her, she glanced at her watch, her expression shifting to one of mild urgency. “Oh no, I gotta run; that means you’re in charge, Naruto-kun. Can you help our newest staff figure out his shift?”

“Fine,” Naruto grumbled reluctantly as Ayame grabbed her bags and waved goodbye at the entrance. He watched her leave, feeling a mix of annoyance and resignation. This wasn’t his restaurant, and he wasn’t the boss. As much as he hated it, he couldn’t change the situation. Just as Sasuke had insinuated earlier, he could only play the hand he was dealt.

The silence in the room stretched for a few moments before Naruto snapped his gaze back to Sasuke. “When are you free?” He gritted out the words reluctantly, as though the very act of speaking felt like a chore.

Sasuke, unmoved, gave his usual cool reply. “Whenever Sakura’s shift is.”

A vein throbbed visibly on Naruto’s temple. Either Sakura’s short temper was contagious, or Sasuke had an uncanny ability to get under his skin. His voice came out sharp, more clipped than usual. “This is not the place for you two to date, okay? This is a ramen restaurant, an actual business!” 

“As if you didn’t see this as a chance to spend time with her yourself,” Sasuke retorted.

Naruto growled in frustration, his teeth gritting as the words lodged themselves in his throat. Sasuke wasn’t entirely wrong. Deep down, Naruto had hoped that working together would bring him and Sakura closer again, that it would somehow bridge the distance that had grown between them. But instead, Sasuke was once again meddling in matters that didn’t concern him.

“What’s so wrong with that?” Naruto argued. His breath came in uneven bursts. “You two already live together and go to the same school; you don’t get to complain!” 

“You already know that’s a secret, idiot,” Sasuke replied with a condescending sigh. The detached way he spoke grated on Naruto’s nerves. “We’re basically strangers in public.”

“So?” Naruto shot back defiantly. He could feel his jaw tighten in irritation. “At least you still have a chance!” 

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, genuinely puzzled by Naruto’s statement. “What are you talking about?” He asked. He wasn’t sure what to make of Naruto’s outburst.

Was Naruto referring to a chance with Sakura? Naruto’s feelings had been evident through his actions, even if Sakura hadn’t shown mutual interest. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t in the future, especially given their history. 

“She literally sees me as her brother, stupid. What do you think?” Naruto’s voice cracked, the frustration in it raw and biting. His chest felt tight, like his heart was stuck in his throat, every word a painful release. “I lost my chance a long time ago.”

Sasuke blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in Naruto’s tone. It was an emotion Sasuke hadn’t expected from his usually boisterous and carefree rival.

Since Naruto had shown up in their lives, Sasuke had always felt intimidated in the presence of Naruto and Sakura’s bond. It was evident from their interactions that despite their time apart, they still understood each other deeply and were comfortable in each other’s presence. Sasuke had never seen Sakura freely touch, hug, and express affection for anyone more than she did with Naruto. 

In contrast, Sasuke and Sakura had only known each other for less than a year, and their relationship hadn’t exactly started on the best foot. With everything that had happened recently, Sasuke couldn’t help but feel like they had been thrown back to square one.

What Sasuke only fully realized now was that the decade Sakura and Naruto had spent together had solidified their bond into something more familial than romantic. Logically, this should have reassured him. If Sakura didn’t view Naruto as a potential partner, then surely there was no rivalry to worry about. But instead of feeling relief, Sasuke felt a sharp pang of unease and inadequacy.

If someone like Naruto, who had grown up with Sakura, who shared such an intimate, comfortable connection with her, wasn’t seen as a romantic prospect in her eyes, then what chance did he have? 

“Can I really trust you?” Naruto asked, his voice rough and demanding. His piercing blue gaze drilled deep into Sasuke’s soul.

Sasuke met his gaze evenly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” He replied, shaking his head slightly, trying to mask the flicker of uncertainty in his own heart. “But we’re on the same side. I don’t work for Itachi, but if his plan is what I think it is, then I do believe it could benefit all of us.”

A serious expression, so rare on Naruto’s typically cheerful face, now adorned the young heir of the Uzumaki clan. He leaned forward, his demeanor demanding honesty. “Before I make a decision, I need to know about Sakura’s connection to Madara.”

Sasuke nodded. He had expected this. After all, Naruto’s protective instincts and his fierce loyalty to Sakura only made this inevitable. “Only if you tell me what you know about Itachi’s plan.”

It was a fair trade, Sasuke thought. But he knew Sakura would be furious if she ever found out he had gone behind her back like this. Yet involving Naruto in this was a necessary risk. That was why he’d made Naruto promise to keep his mouth shut. 

He should have known that was an impossible task.

Chapter Text

A few quiet weeks slipped by without a single word from Madara or Itachi. During this time, Sasuke wasted no time in teaching Sakura the basics of handling the pocketknife she had hesitantly accepted.

They had gone through several lessons, yet her fingers still fumbled, her grip too rigid. The weight of the blade sat awkwardly in her grasp, as if it didn’t belong to her.

Sasuke frowned, his sharp gaze tracking her movements. Without a second thought, he stepped in closer.

“Relax your hand,” he instructed, his voice almost absentminded as he reached around to adjust her fingers on the handle.

Sakura’s breath hitched when his fingers ghosted over hers, his chest nearly pressing against her back.

He was too close—so close that she could catch the faint, clean scent of his soap, the warmth of his presence pressing in around her.

“Like this,” Sasuke said, adjusting her hand with careful precision. He was too focused on the lesson to notice the way her pulse spiked or the way she swallowed hard before nodding.

“I-I got it,” she said quickly, but her voice wavered.

Sasuke glanced at her, his dark eyes assessing. 

“Are you okay?” 

His tone held no teasing, only a quiet hint of concern. He wasn’t convinced she was actually absorbing what he was showing her.

Sakura nodded a little too quickly, too eager to escape. She had to get a grip—literally and figuratively. But it didn’t matter how good Sasuke was at teaching; he couldn’t expect her to focus like this.

“I think that’s enough for today,” she announced, forcing a lightness into her voice. With a sharp exhale, she stepped back, widening the space between them. “I need to go to the grocery store before it gets too crowded.”

Sasuke hesitated. She still wasn’t handling the knife properly, and the past few weeks hadn’t shown much progress. He wanted her to practice more, to at least get the basics right. But he also didn’t want to push her. His frown deepened for a fraction of a second before he finally sighed, relenting.

“…Fine,” he said simply, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Remember what we talked about when you’re out and about.”

Conversations about Sasuke’s family had become more frequent, and while Sakura eagerly seized every opportunity to understand him better, she wasn’t about to swallow everything he said without question. 

“About that… Are you sure that’s an Uchiha trait, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura chuckled skeptically. “I mean, I’m pretty sure the majority of people in Tokyo have black hair and black eyes.”

“The majority have dark brown eyes, Sakura,” Sasuke insisted. “Only Uchiha have black eyes.” 

Curiosity flared in her chest as an undeniable pull had Sakura leaning in before she even realized it. The space between them shrank again, her breath mingling with his as she peered intently into his eyes, searching.

Not expecting Sakura to get so close, Sasuke stiffened. A faint heat crept up his neck, settling on his cheeks, but he refused to look away.

Sakura examined his eyes carefully, her brow furrowing as she tried to see what Sasuke meant. His eyes were indeed the darkest shade she had ever seen, almost absorbing the light around them. Yet, when the sunlight caught them just right, tiny flecks of crimson seemed to flicker beneath the surface—flecks so subtle they were nearly invisible, like red embers in a shadowed night. 

But it wasn’t just his eyes that held her attention. It was his lashes. They were unfairly long, dark, and framed his gaze with such an effortless elegance it made her jealous. How could someone be so beautiful without even trying?

Lost in thought, Sakura remained blissfully unaware of just how close they had become. The warmth of his breath, the quiet tension humming in the air—none of it registered until the moment stretched just a little too long.

Then, as if suddenly jolted back to reality, Sakura straightened up, the faint blush lingering on her cheeks. She cleared her throat; her response came out sarcastic. 

“If you say so,” Sakura quipped with a cheeky smile.

Sasuke let out a huff and rolled his eyes at her playful attitude. She had been the one to ask, yet all he seemed to be getting was sass.

“Is there anything else you want me to get?” Sakura asked, her tone softening as she made her way toward the front door. She glanced at him but Sasuke simply shook his head.

Throughout the week, they had been jotting down items that ran out on a post-it note stuck to the fridge. If it wasn’t on the list, Sasuke didn’t particularly care for it. He was a creature of habits and familiarity, preferring what he knew and liked over venturing into new tastes. That was why living in his own apartment, doing his own chores, and cooking his own food was such a big step for him. 

“Alright, text me if you think of anything!” Sakura called over her shoulder as she slipped on her shoes, slung her bag over her shoulder, and breezed out of the apartment. “I’m off!”

Despite her suggestion, Sakura knew Sasuke rarely texted her for such a thing. As she descended the stairs, Sakura thought of new products she could introduce to him. Technically, her roommate would eat anything she put in front of him, but Sakura always wanted to be sure he genuinely enjoyed it, not just because it was there. Buying items on sale was one of Sakura’s strategies to gradually expand Sasuke’s palate, a tactic that usually proved successful.

There was a convenience store conveniently close to their apartment. It was where Sasuke used to buy his dependable lunch bento, but it lacked variety, particularly in fresh produce. 

The grocery store they typically frequented was a train station away, but Sakura preferred walking there to save money. It also gave her a chance to clear her head and stretch her legs after long study sessions. March’s arrival also brought with it the cherry blossoms that she adored seeing along her route.

Though Sakura had walked this route countless times before, today a strange, unsettling feeling of being watched clung to her. Not even the vibrant flowers that lined the path could reduce her unease. 

She glanced around subtly, her eyes darting over the empty street. The houses, all identical in their quiet stillness, had no signs of life—no movement behind the windows, no shifting curtains. The morning air hung heavy, unnaturally still, as if holding its breath. Each step Sakura took seemed to echo louder in the silence.

With her hands buried in the pocket of her oversized blue jacket, Sakura pulled the ends closer together to shield herself from the sudden chill, unsure if it was from the wind or her own nerves.

As she scanned the street ahead, Sakura couldn’t help but note the cliché presence of a black car parked along her route. Its tinted windows and striking design contrasted sharply with the typical boxy vehicles of Tokyo. This obviously imported car exuded sleek modernity, standing out conspicuously.

Despite chiding herself for growing paranoid akin to her roommate, Sakura couldn’t shake the instinctive need to distance herself from the sleek black car as much as possible. But as she passed, her curiosity got the best of her, and she stole a quick glance at the car. To her surprise, the window rolled down with a soft, mechanical hum, and a face emerged from within—one she vaguely recognized.

“Pss, Princess,” a voice called out, smooth and mocking. “You want some candy?”

“Excuse me?” Sakura responded, her confusion mingling with a touch of irritation.

The man in the car leaned forward slightly. A disarming smile curled across his lips, so effortless, so confident, it caught her off guard. Despite her better judgment, she found herself pausing just for a moment to engage with him, not realizing that she had taken the bait. There was something about his short, wavy black hair and his smug expression that triggered a sense of familiarity.

“Do I know you?” Sakura asked cautiously, her heart beginning to race as she tried to place the stranger’s face.

The man slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, revealing mischievous black eyes that seemed to lock onto hers with unsettling intensity, as if daring her to look away. “You don’t remember me, (Princess)?”

Sakura raised an eyebrow at his use of a foreign term, her mind briefly caught by the unfamiliarity of it. But then, a sudden jolt of recognition hit her and she stumbled backward. 

“You’re that playboy from the station!” She accused, jabbing a finger toward him in a burst of disbelief.

The man leaned casually on the top of the car window, a faux frown tugging at his lips as he regarded her. “That ‘playboy’ has a name, you know?” His amused smile spread wide enough to reveal his canine teeth, as though he were thoroughly entertained by her surprise. “Although, I’m glad I at least made an impression on you, Haruno-san.”

The casual mention of her surname sent an uncomfortable wave through Sakura. Her grip on the fabric of her jacket tightened instinctively, pulling it closer around her as though the gesture might shield her from this unexpected, unsettling encounter. The familiarity in his voice, the way he so easily addressed her as if he knew her far more intimately than he should, made her skin prickle with unease.

“How do you know my name?” she demanded, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts to sound firm.

But before she even got a reply, the man effortlessly slid out of the car with measured ease. Sakura flinched, her instincts kicking in as she took a step back. Yet he advanced with quiet confidence, closing the distance between them as if he had all the time in the world.

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” He suggested casually, his voice low and inviting. One of his hand was tucked into his pocket, while the other held the back door open for her.

Alarms blared in Sakura’s mind as she frantically planned her escape, but a big problem loomed.

How the hell do I outrun a car?

As if sensing her thoughts, the man’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with a knowing amusement. “Don’t try it, Princess,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “He just wants to talk.”

Fuck it, she thought, her mind racing as she pivoted, preparing to make a run for it. But before she could even take a single step, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground with terrifying ease, as though she weighed nothing at all.

She twisted in his arms, her hands desperately clawing at his, but his hold only tightened, pulling her flush against his solid chest. Sakura opened her mouth to scream, but before the sound could escape, his other hand shot up, clamping over her mouth

“Careful,” he chuckled, his voice a smooth, lazy tease that slid under her skin like silk. The sound of his laughter was dangerously close, his breath ghosting against her ear, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. “You don’t want me to be rough with you.”

Sakura froze, her face flushing despite the situation. Something hard pressed against her hip, and for the first time in her life, she hoped it was a weapon.

Without much effort, he shoved her into the back seat, the cold leather slamming into her back. Sakura’s breath caught, trapped in her throat, as panic surged through her veins like wildfire. Her heart pounded, each frantic beat slamming against her ribs.

She scrambled to a sitting position, her breath shallow, her thoughts scattered. But before she could even regain her bearings, the sharp click of the door locking rang in her ears.

Her eyes blazed with fury as she glared at her kidnapper through the rearview mirror, her hands clenched into fists. The man’s laughter only fueled her anger, his cavalier attitude mocking her predicament.

“Don’t be mad at me, Princess,” he taunted, his voice laced with amusement. “This is just typical kidnapping protocol.”

The audacity of his words ignited a fierce determination within Sakura. There was no way she would surrender without a fight. She scanned the car for any means of escape, her mind racing through possibilities even as her body remained trapped.

Swiftly, Sakura pulled out her pocketknife, her fingers trembling slightly as she pressed the cold steel firmly against the driver’s neck. Despite her tense grip, the driver remained unnervingly composed, his eyes locked forward, unfazed. Beside him, the other man smirked, clearly underestimating her resolve, his arrogance radiating from every inch of his posture.

“Put it down, Princess,” the man ordered calmly, his voice edged with a warning as he slowly opened his jacket to reveal a concealed gun.

Sakura’s grip tightened, her hand still holding the pocketknife firmly against the driver’s neck. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, fueling her desperation.

The man in the passenger seat watched her closely, sensing her focus turning toward the weapon he’d just revealed. 

Then without warning, she lunged towards the passenger, her fingers outstretched toward the gun. 

“Woah, hey!” He exclaimed in surprise, caught off guard by her audacity.

Her fingers barely grazed the cold metal before he reacted. The man’s reflexes, unfortunately, proved quicker and he easily wrestled the firearm out of her reach. 

Unexpectedly, his laughter rang out. It wasn’t mockery nor malice but something disturbingly close to admiration. He turned to the driver with an expression of delighted disbelief, as if she had just performed a party trick. “That was close!” He exclaimed, almost impressed by her daring move.

The man then returned his attention to her, his eyes glinting with intrigue. “You can’t be doing that, Princess!” He chided, his tone caught between amusement and warning. “Don’t make me come back there!”

Suddenly, the car lurched forward. The sudden motion knocked Sakura off balance, and she tumbled backward onto the cold, slick leather seat. A startled gasp escaped her lips as her back hit the cushions, her fingers scrambling against the seat’s upholstery for stability. The sharp scent of gasoline filled her nostrils, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of fear coating her tongue. The cold weight of the knife in her grip now felt like a false sense of power in a situation spiraling beyond her control. The fact that they hadn’t bothered to restrain her should have been enough of a warning that they didn’t see her as a threat at all.

Her gaze flicked toward the passenger seat, where the wavy-haired playboy lounged without a care in the world. His sunglasses obscured his eyes, but she didn’t need to see them to know he was watching her. Her anger flared as his perpetual grin mocked her silent panic. 

The driver was a new face. His posture was rigid and controlled, his short black hair neatly kept. His single visible eye, a deep and chilling black, remained fixed on the road. When it flickered toward her in the mirror; it was devoid of curiosity, as if he had seen this kind of struggle before and found it unimpressive. 

The rest of his face was obscured by a thick swath of cloth that wrapped over his right eye, disappearing beneath the sharp line of his jaw. Sakura wasn’t sure if she should feel reassured or alarmed that he was the one in control of the vehicle.

The realization hit her hard: staying on the offensive was not an option. She wasn’t fast enough to take down the passenger, and if she tried to harm the driver, she risked sending them all careening into a crash—one that she wasn’t sure she’d walk away from.

With a measured breath, she slid the knife back into her pocket, forcing herself to think beyond instinct. The car’s doors were locked, trapping her in a speeding metal cage with two men, one of whom had a gun. 

If she couldn’t fight her way out, she needed information—anything that could give her an edge. Her mind raced as her eyes flicked between her captors, noting the similar features they shared—the dark hair, the dark eyes, the air of confidence. She decided to start there.

“Are you guys the Kobu?” She asked, her voice surprisingly steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides.

The man in the passenger seat let out an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

“Oh no, what gave us away?” He teased, his grin stretching wider. His tone was light, almost playful, but it only deepened her frown. 

She had expected denial. Deflection. A refusal to answer. But he didn’t even try to hide it. So what did it mean if they didn’t care to keep their identity a secret? 

Then, as if he had just remembered something, the man covered his mouth and laughed. “Oops, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, was I?”

Next to him, the driver let out what sounded like a long, irritated sigh.

“What do you want with me?” She demanded, trying to mask the tremor in her voice. 

“I already told you,” he drawled, his grin unwavering. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Who?” She pressed. Her gaze briefly flicked to the driver, searching for any hint of emotion or reaction but his expression remained unreadable.

“Not him, Princess,” the man pointed his thumb at the driver. “Obito doesn’t even like to talk to himself.”

“Shut your trap, Shisui,” the driver, Obito, snapped, his voice a low growl that made Sakura flinch involuntarily. His eyes flickered momentarily in the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road.

The man in the passenger seat, Shisui, only chuckled, clearly unfazed by the warning. He gestured carelessly at his companion with raised eyebrows as if to say, see what I mean?

Obito’s patience, however, was wearing thin. His glare darkened, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he finally spoke.

“You’re meeting with Izuna,” he said flatly, his words devoid of any discernible emotion. It was the kind of indifference that made her feel as if she were a mere inconvenience. “Don’t ask why. I don’t care to know.”

Shisui’s smirk faltered, his amusement snatched away the moment Obito ruined his little game. The gleam in his eyes dulled as he shot Obito a sharp, sidelong glare.

Unfortunately for Sakura, his answer only deepened her confusion. The name “Izuna” meant nothing to her. But Sakura wasn’t about to waste the distraction. Her pulse hammered as she slipped a trembling hand into her pocket, fingers fumbling over the cool surface of her phone. She barely dared to breathe as she blindly drafted a text to Sasuke.

But Shisui, having found her sudden silence suspicious, had caught on quickly. With a swift, effortless motion, he plucked the device from her grasp.

“Hey!” Sakura snapped. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she lunged for the phone, but Shisui merely leaned away, holding it just out of reach.

“I’m confiscating this,” he said, a smug smirk curling at his lips as he waved the phone teasingly in front of her.

Sakura seethed, frustration boiling over into barely contained rage. Her nails dug into her palms as she glared at him, heat rising in her chest. “If he wanted to talk, why can’t he just come talk to me like a normal person?” She demanded.

“Do we seem like a bunch of ‘normal’ people to you?” Shisui replied, his grin widening even more infuriatingly than before.

Touché.

Sakura swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral. “Am I free to go after the talk?” She asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the anxiety churning in her stomach.

Shisui tilted his head, pretending to consider it, but the amusement dancing in his eyes told her he already knew the answer. He leaned back, lips curling into something far too playful for her liking.

“I guess we’ll find out,” he said lightly.

Next to him, Obito let out another heavy sigh, rolling his eyes, clearly unimpressed—whether with the banter or with his partner’s antics, Sakura couldn’t tell. Either way, his irritation did little to ease the dread creeping through her veins.

It didn’t take long for the car to reach a familiar area. As the streets blurred past, Sakura’s heart sank when she recognized Omotesando. The sleek, modern buildings loomed like silent sentinels, and when the car dipped into the underground parking garage not far from where she had first encountered Madara, her stomach twisted. 

This surely must be one of Kobu’s business establishments and she was in deep trouble now. But on the bright side, at least she wasn’t meeting with Uchiha Madara again. 

As the car came to a halt, Sakura took a deep breath, the cold, metallic scent of the underground mingling with the lingering aroma of leather and sweat from the car. She sat and waited patiently as the two men got out of the car, listening to the muted echoes of their footsteps on the concrete. 

She steeled herself, trying to push down the rising tide of fear and focus on the fact that she needed to be prepared for whatever happened next. Finally, the car doors clicked open, and the cool, damp air of the underground parking lot rushed in, prickling her skin and sharpening her senses.

She slid across the seat reluctantly only when Shisui prompted her to get out. The moment her feet touched the cold concrete, the underground garage swallowed her in dim, flickering light. Shadows stretched long and jagged across the floor. Sakura tightened her grip on the strap of her bag, her pulse quickening as she turned toward Shisui—only to find him standing in front of her, holding out a piece of cloth.

“Ok, Princess, I’m going to put this on you,” he said, the cloth dangling ominously from his hand.

Sakura backed away immediately, her hand instinctively reaching into her jacket pocket. 

“No way.” 

The thought of losing her sight in this already dangerous situation was unbearable. She was already in treacherous territory; there was no way she was going to give up one of her most useful senses.

“Sorry, Princess, this is just standard kidnapping protocol.” Shisui merely shrugged, utterly unfazed by her resistance. Sakura had to wonder if the man enjoyed seeing her scared and panicked.

Sakura flinched at the sudden pressure on her shoulder blade, a large, firm palm pressing against her back. Looking over her shoulder, she realized it belonged to Obito. But it was only then did she truly register his sheer size. He towered over her, his frame casting a long shadow in the dim parking garage. She barely reached his shoulders.

“Stop fucking with her, idiot,” Obito snapped, his voice firm with irritation. Shisui merely rolled his eyes.

Without waiting for further protest, Obito urged her forward with a measured push. “Come on,” he muttered.

While Obito guided her toward an elevator, Sakura’s eyes darted around, desperately searching the floor for an exit. Her hopes were dashed when she spotted more black-haired, black-eyed men standing around the lot, their expressions stern and watchful. She was surrounded and outnumbered, and the faint hum of the elevator only added to her growing sense of dread.

Finally, the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding. Without a word, Sakura was ushered inside. The cold, metallic walls of the elevator reflected her pale, anxious face back at her.

“See you, Princess!” Shisui waved as the elevator doors closed, sealing her fate as the elevator began its ascent. The muted sounds of the parking lot faded away, leaving her alone with the taciturn man.

In the closed space, she instinctively tried to put as much distance between herself and the towering figure beside her. Her body tensed, but there was nowhere to go. His presence loomed in the tight, confined space. The silence between them was thick and heavy, only broken by the faint clicking of the floor numbers as they ascended.

“What is happening now?” Sakura demanded, her voice sharp with frustration, though it trembled with underlying fear.

Obito’s expression was impenetrable and cold; his gaze remained fixed on the flickering numbers above them. “I’m escorting you to Izuna,” he replied, his tone clipped, devoid of any explanation.

The elevator hummed steadily, the only sound breaking the heavy stillness as the numbers continued to climb, one after another. Sakura’s gaze flickered toward Obito, his imposing figure standing rigid and unmoving. It contrasted sharply with the frantic pounding of her heart, the cold sweat collecting on the back of her neck, and the rising panic swirling in her chest.

Her eyes scanned him quickly, searching for the glint of something dangerous, but there was nothing. Her thoughts raced as she considered her options. She needed information, anything that could give her an edge.

“Do you have a gun?” She asked, her voice barely masking her anxiety.

Obito’s dark eyes flicked over to her with the barest hint of curiosity, as if he were weighing whether she was truly serious or simply grasping at straws. His gaze hardened as he registered her determined expression—she wasn’t joking. 

For a split second, he almost snorted at the absurdity of her question, the idea that she might be thinking of somehow taking him on in the confined space of this elevator. The thought amused him more than it concerned him. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to tell her, but it was already kind of late, especially since that loose-lipped Shisui had already revealed who they were to her.

“Two,” he replied flatly.

Sakura cursed under her breath. Could she have been able to take him on if he didn’t have his guns? Probably not, given how easily and quickly Shisui was able to maneuver her into the car in the first place. But she liked to think that she would have put up quite a fight. The realization of her vulnerability stung, but she pushed the thought aside, focusing on the immediate situation.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator creaked to a stop with a faint ding. The doors slid open with a soft hiss, and Obito stepped out into the hallway beyond, his presence swallowing the air. He held the door open with one hand, patiently waiting for her.

Sakura, however, remained flattened against the far side of the elevator. The stale air of the elevator shaft hung heavy around her as her heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of how little control she had in this moment.

But she had no choice.

Reluctantly, she came to the painful realization that it would be less agonizing to just get this over with. So, with a deep breath, she pushed herself off the wall and cautiously stepped out. She could feel Obito’s disapproving gaze on her—his silent judgment on her stubbornly yet futilely defiant attitude.

The floor beneath her was cool, polished cream marble, so smooth it almost felt foreign under her shoes. Her eyes flicked up to the floor-to-ceiling windows as she moved forward. The sprawling cityscape below should have taken her breath away—towering skyscrapers stretching out in every direction—but instead, it only served to remind her of how far she was from freedom.

Obito was a steady presence beside her as he guided her down the hallway; the sound of their footsteps was the only thing that filled the hollow space between them. At the end of the hallway, they stopped at a set of large, imposing double doors made of dark, polished wood. Sakura’s pulse quickened as Obito knocked twice on the door.

The doors creaked open slowly, revealing a room beyond filled with natural light streaming through tall windows. Obito motioned for Sakura to enter, his gesture businesslike and impassive, but didn’t follow her inside. His stoic demeanor remained unchanged, his dark eyes watching her intently as Sakura took another deep breath, steeling herself as she stepped across the threshold.

“She’s here,” Obito announced as Sakura entered.

A man seated behind a large, ornate mahogany desk looked up, his posture straight and composed, the kind of person who exuded power simply by being. He nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze briefly flicking over Sakura before returning to Obito.

“Thank you, Obito,” the man said smoothly, his voice cool and polite like a practiced formality. 

Obito gave a wordless nod in response, his gaze briefly flickering over to Sakura for the slightest moment before he turned to leave. The door closed softly behind him, leaving Sakura standing alone in the middle of the room.

As Sakura’s eyes adjusted to the light, she stepped forward, her movements tentative. Her gaze landed on the familiar face sitting behind the large, imposing desk.

“Sasuke-kun?” The name slipped from her lips before she could stop it, trembling with disbelief. “What’s going—”

But her words faltered and died in her throat as she took in the man’s features more clearly.  The man seated before her was undeniably familiar, but she could still notice the subtle difference. 

He had the same strong jawline, the same onyx eyes—but the intensity in his gaze was softer, more enigmatic. The curve of his lips was fuller, more relaxed than Sasuke’s tight-lipped stoicism. His hair, though the same deep black, was longer, pulled back into a low ponytail that was far too long for Sasuke’s usual preference. The faint lines around his eyes were more mature than she remembered, as if he were an older version of Sasuke.  

No, this was not her roommate. He was most likely still sitting at home waiting for her, wondering what kind of sale had held her at the store for so long. 

“Nice to meet you, Haruno-san,” the man said with a courteous nod, gesturing to the seat in front of the polished wooden desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Sakura remained glued to the door that kept her from freedom. Her fingers slid behind her back to pry the door open. Not even the slightest movement.

“It’s electronically powered,” he answered her unasked question, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.

Sakura turned back at him and glared at his familiar yet unfamiliar face. Sasuke’s features were unmistakable, but there was a softness in this man’s expression, a warmth that contradicted the coldness of the situation.

Of all the Uchiha men she had encountered, he seemed the least likely to be involved in the Kobu, let alone to hold such a high position given the opulence of his office.

He wore an air of unassuming confidence, exuding an aura of approachability that clashed with the seriousness of her predicament. His smile, genuine and kind, was a stark contrast to Sasuke’s usual guarded expression.

Despite her reservations, curiosity and a sense of resignation compelled Sakura to comply with the man’s request. With a deep, reluctant breath, she took a seat, setting down her grocery bag beside her. His eyes never left her, his gaze steady and calm—curious, but not threatening, as though he were trying to read her just as much as she was trying to make sense of him.

“You are Uchiha Izuna-san?” Sakura asked.

“That is my name,” Izuna replied with a nod, his smile almost childlike in its simplicity. “I have been told that Sasuke looks a lot like me.”

Sakura couldn’t help but think that was an understatement.

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the situation at hand. “What’s so important that I was kidnapped from my day just to have a talk with you?” Her words were sharp, frustration seeping through her tightly controlled tone.

Unexpectedly, Izuna blinked in genuine surprise, his brow furrowing in confusion. He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze fixed on her, as if trying to process what she had just said. “They did what now?” His voice was laced with disbelief, and for a moment, he looked every bit as confused as she felt. 

Izuna’s hand moved to his face, fingers rubbing his temple as if he were trying to ward off a headache. He let out a heavy sigh, one that echoed with frustration. 

“Was it Shisui?” He muttered under his breath. It wasn’t a question so much as a resigned statement, as if he were already anticipating her answer.

His reaction only deepened Sakura’s confusion. “Yes,” Sakura confirmed, her voice sounding more uncertain than she intended. The entire time, Obito had driven the car with an indifferent silence, seemingly just wanting to get the job over with. Shisui was the only one meticulously following what he called the ‘kidnapping protocol’ after all. Was he just fucking with her—scaring her for the fun of it?

“I apologize for the manner in which you were escorted here, Haruno-san,” he said, though a trace of irritation still edged his voice. He picked up his phone, fingers moving swiftly over the screen. “I will address this matter with them later.”

Sakura, unwilling to get tangled in yet another drawn-out conversation—especially when all she wanted was to escape this one—decided to bypass the pleasantries. Her patience had already worn thin.

“Uchiha-san, why am I here?” She demanded, her voice sharp with restrained frustration.

Izuna’s fingers stilled over his phone. He looked up, studying her for a moment before placing the device down. A flicker of surprise crossed his face at her bluntness, but he straightened in his seat. He clasped his hands together on the desk, his demeanor shifting as if settling into something more serious.

“I want to talk about your relationship with my brother, Haruno-san,” Izuna stated, his voice measured.

Sakura waited patiently for clarification. However, Izuna remained silent, his gaze fixed on her, as if expecting a reaction she had yet to give, not realizing he had to spell it out for her.

“Your brother being…?” She prompted, causing Izuna to lift a brow in confusion.

“Uchiha Madara.”

Sakura suddenly wanted to fling herself out of the nearest window. She should have known. How is it that everything keeps leading back to him?

Although now that he mentioned it, she could see his resemblance to Madara. His features were softer, his frame leaner, more refined, yet the Uchiha features were unmistakable.

“I was informed that you two have a…,” Izuna cleared his throat and said the next words like he was reading it for the first time. “Sugar baby and daddy relationship, is that correct?”

His expression was an awkward mix of forced professionalism and secondhand embarrassment, as if he couldn’t quite believe he had to say those words out loud.

A nervous knot tightened in Sakura’s stomach. Not this again. She had already explained this ridiculous situation twice before, and the thought of reliving that embarrassing conversation made her want to sink into the floor. For a moment, she simply stared at him, grasping for the right words.

“I think ‘not really’ is my best answer here,” Sakura muttered, her voice tinged with discomfort.

Izuna raised a curious brow. “What does that mean, Haruno-san?”

With a resigned sigh, Sakura rubbed the bridge of her nose, frustration creeping into her tone. “The short version is that I filled in for my friend—who is a sugar baby—for one date with your brother. That’s it.”

Izuna leaned forward slightly, his hands steepled in front of him as he listened intently, nodding along. His expression was a careful balance of curiosity and seriousness, as if he were dissecting every word she said.

“So you have no romantic interest in him?”

“No!” Sakura blurted out, her voice rising with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “And for the record, I’m not even an official baby!” 

Izuna nodded again, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed her words. Sakura could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

Surely, this explanation was satisfying for him. Can I leave now?

Sakura’s eyes darted nervously toward the door, but Izuna’s next question cut through her thoughts.

“Then do you want to be?”

Sakura’s head snapped back at him, her eyes locking onto his with sheer bewilderment. “To be what?” She asked.

“His sugar baby—” Izuna waved his hand around casually as he continued, “—his girlfriend, however you want to put it.”

Sakura’s mouth fell open. She felt like she had stumbled into a maze with no clear path out.

Did he not hear what she just said? Her mind raced, trying to grasp the situation. 

“I thought this was about you not wanting me to date your brother?” Sakura finally managed, confusion swirling within her.

What is even going on?

Chapter Text

Izuna’s expression remained unreadable as he cleared his throat, the soft sound strangely formal. “Quite the opposite, Haruno-san,” he began. “You see, my brother is very...dedicated to his work.”

Sakura barely suppressed an incredulous scoff. That’s a very diplomatic way of saying power-hungry.

“And I want my brother to have more of a...balance in life,” Izuna said earnestly, but Sakura could almost hear the unspoken layers of calculation beneath that calm exterior.

“And you think that hiring a girl half his age to date him is the solution to that?” Sakura countered, her disbelief palpable.

Izuna’s gaze remained unshaken. “I see nothing wrong in a relationship between two adults.” 

The words were delivered with such sincerity that Sakura felt momentarily blindsided. Was this man genuinely serious or was he just that good at lying? She couldn’t fathom how anyone could look at this situation with such blind acceptance.

“Did Madara-sama ask you to do this?” She asked skeptically. 

Izuna’s brow furrowed slightly at the familiarity with which the girl addressed his brother but decided not to dwell on it. There was no way she would refer to his brother so casually without permission first. But if that was the case, then his brother’s affection for her might even be deeper than he had thought.

“No,” Izuna answered, his voice a little more thoughtful now. “But from what I can gather, my brother seems very interested in a relationship with you.”

Sakura snorted. “And where did you gather”—Sakura made quotation marks with her hands—“this information, Uchiha-san?”

Izuna didn’t flinch. “From my brother.”

That was the moment Sakura could no longer contain herself. A laugh, loud and unrestrained, burst from her lips. The absurd idea that Uchiha Madara, of all people, could be interested in her, after their first meeting had been so downright hostile, struck her like a punchline to the cruelest joke. 

Izuna waited, his own patience wearing thin with every second, for the girl in front of him to quiet down. But when she only laughed louder, her shoulders shaking with the force of it, the professionalism he’d so carefully maintained slipped ever so slightly.

The gall of this girl.

His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms, a flash of offense crossing his face. 

Sakura, still gasping for breath between fits of laughter, managed to steal a glance at him. That was when she noticed how much Izuna resembled Sasuke—that same indignant pout, as if the smallest slight had pierced some deep pride of his. The sight was familiar and almost endearing, but she quickly pushed that thought away.

“Uchiha-san, you can’t possibly want me to believe that the Kobu boss wanted to go on another date with me?” Sakura said, her tone dripping with mocking disbelief. Her eyebrows arched, challenging Izuna to counter her statement. “Not that we can even call the first one a date.”

Unexpectedly, Izuna seemed to freeze at her words. His brow furrowed, and his gaze sharpened. “What did you say?” He asked, his voice tight with surprise.

Sakura’s laughter faltered, the sound abruptly dying in her throat. Her amusement turned to confusion as she processed the shift in Izuna’s demeanor. 

“What? That the Kobu—”

As the uncomfortable realization hit her, Sakura covered her mouth instinctively, as if that could somehow undo what she had just revealed. Itachi’s cautionary words echoed in her mind.

To the public, he’s the leader of the Uchiha Enterprise… nothing concrete links him to Kobu. Madara is very skilled at keeping it that way.  

Sakura cursed inwardly. This is all that damn Shisui’s fault. 

Izuna’s earlier genuine surprise at the violent way she had been escorted here should have been her first clue. If Shisui hadn’t been the one to bring her here, if it had only been Obito, she might have gotten the impression that this was simply a very shady business transaction—a high-profile businessman meeting with someone who had no place being here.

But the moment she’d asked, Shisui had confirmed her suspicions of their identity without a second thought. Nothing was going to convince her that a seasoned yakuza like Shisui would have let something like that slip accidentally. His words and his actions had to be intentional. He’d meant for her to know exactly who she was dealing with. But why? Was it some kind of test, a setup, just to make her slip up and reveal something she wasn’t supposed to know? If that was the case, how did he know that she was aware of Madara being the Kobu boss in the first place?

“Just kidding!” Sakura said quickly, trying to laugh it off with an awkward smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s just a conspiracy theory anyway,” she added, hoping the words would sound casual, but the suddenness of her response only seemed to highlight her discomfort.

Unfortunately for her. Izuna’s narrowed eyes and the subtle shift in his posture told her that he was not convinced. 

“Sasuke told you, didn't he?” Izuna asked. “I’m not surprised he’d let slip while living with another.” His tone was probing yet oddly calm—a stark contrast to the tight knot of unease forming in Sakura’s chest.

The realization that someone close to Madara knew about her and Sasuke’s arrangement struck her like a sudden jolt of electricity. Sakura’s eyes widened before she quickly shook her head, denying Sasuke’s involvement.

“How did you know about that?” Sakura asked.

Izuna, despite not buying Sakura’s attempt to deflect, acknowledged that it was quite unlikely Sasuke had willingly disclosed the secret. From what he had gathered through Itachi, Sasuke barely acknowledged his Uchiha lineage, let alone discuss family matters like Madara’s affiliations, especially to his roommate of only a few months. This was likely not something Sasuke had done voluntarily, which meant someone else had pushed the pieces into place.

But before he could unravel that thread, he had to address the particularly curious topic the girl in front of him had taken a sudden interest in.

“About what?”

“That I and Sasuke shared an apartment,” Sakura clarified, her voice betraying a hint of concern.

Izuna leaned back slightly, his voice as smooth and even as ever. “You’re living within the Kobu territory, Haruno-san,” Izuna replied calmly, his gaze studying Sakura intently as she nervously bit her bottom lip. Something about that gesture momentarily captured his attention. “We even know he used a fake name to sign up for the apartment.”

“Does Madara-sama know about this?” Sakura pressed.

Izuna’s brow arched, confusion flickering across his otherwise composed features. “What does it matter to you, Haruno-san?”

Shit, would he tell Madara now that she had asked him that?  

Sakura wasn’t even sure what it would mean for Sasuke if Madara found out, all she knew was that she wouldn’t risk it. Sasuke and Itachi had asked her to keep their arrangement a secret. If she couldn’t erase what Izuna already knew, then the least she could do was contain it.

Remembering what Sasuke had told her about the yakuza, Sakura steeled herself. “Ninkyō,” she said. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, but she refused to let it show.

Izuna’s eyes flickered with surprise, though he quickly masked it beneath his usual composure. He hadn’t expected her to know that term, much less invoke it now. He knew exactly what she was doing—reminding him of the strict code of honor all Kobu members lived by. Keep your word. Honor your promises. To break them was to risk not only one’s reputation but one’s standing within the organization itself.

He had to admit, he admired her attempt at negotiation. But all it really did was confirm one thing—she knew more about the Kobu than she had let on. Izuna had an idea of why that would be the case. But before he could confirm his suspicion, she pressed on.

“If I told you who revealed the Kobu boss’s identity to me, then you must keep our living situation a secret from your brother,” she continued, her eyes locking onto Izuna’s with a pleading intensity. 

Izuna furrowed his brow, momentarily thrown by her insistence. According to his informants, Fugaku’s youngest son had run away and ended up sharing an apartment with her, another college student. It made sense that Fugaku would want to keep this under wraps. After all, he was still eyeing the Oyabun position. His pride would never allow him to tarnish his reputation or the Uchiha branch’s standing, especially if his son was already doing that for him.

This secrecy played into Izuna’s hands, yet he couldn’t fathom why this girl cared so deeply. 

“I need you to give me your word,” she demanded, raising her pinky. “If you break it, you have to perform yubitsume!”

Izuna wanted to laugh. This girl was surprising him at every turn. Yubitsume? That tradition had been long abandoned. After all, Madara saw no reason to trust anyone who had once broken that trust—fingerless or not. There were far more effective, and often far more discreet, ways to deal with betrayal anyway.

It was almost endearing how determined she was to invoke it, though. Izuna was certain this was something she’d either overheard or seen in a film, because there was no way the person feeding her information about the Kobu would tell her this particular detail. Despite all that, Izuna had no intention of breaking his word over something as trivial as this.

“Of course, Haruno-san,” Izuna replied.

Sakura eyed the small smile tugging at Izuna’s lips, unease coiling in her stomach. Making a deal with a yakuza was never a good idea. Ninkyō or not, she had no real guarantee that Izuna would keep his promise. If Madara found out and decided to retaliate, she doubted there was much Izuna could do to sway him. On the other hand, if she lied and Izuna discovered the deceit, which wouldn’t be difficult given how he uncovered this secret in the first place, the deal would be worthless. This was an exchange of information, a balance of power, and she had to tread carefully.

Finally, she nodded, swallowing against the dryness in her throat. “I was told by Itachi-san.”

Izuna’s eyebrows lifted slightly before furrowing in suspicion. She wasn’t lying, but she wasn’t telling the whole truth either. He could see it, clear as day, in the way her fingers curled ever so slightly, as if grasping at words she wasn’t saying; In the faint hesitation that flickered across her voice, like a skipped heartbeat; In the way her eyes danced just past his, never quite meeting his gaze for too long.

“You’re going to let Itachi take all the credit for something your roommate was also involved in?” Izuna pressed, watching her closely. However, Sakura remained silent. The way she was keeping her expression carefully guarded was bothering Izuna. Why was she even lying about something that he could so easily see through? 

“And why would they do that?” Izuna asked.

The fact that Sasuke confided in her was astonishing enough, but Itachi, too?  

What was he planning? Was this girl somehow a part of Itachi’s plan?

Sakura exhaled slowly, resignation softening the set of her shoulders. She should have known there was no point in deception—not with a Kobu member. They read people like open books, and she was no exception.

“They were trying to convince me to stay away from your brother,” she admitted at last, her voice quieter now. “Well, Sasuke-kun was, at least. I think Itachi-san just pitied my naivety.”

Izuna leaned back, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest, the gears turning in his mind. “And that managed to convince you, I assume?”

Sakura nodded, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and apprehension. “Well, yeah,” she admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “I haven’t even dated anyone my own age since senior high, let alone a middle-aged yakuza boss.”

Izuna exhaled slowly through his nose, frustration simmering just beneath his composed facade. His mind raced as he tried to grasp for another angle, another approach. But for the first time in a long while, he came up empty. This wasn’t going to plan.

By all logic, she should have been eager. The report on her background had painted a clear enough picture—small-town girl, modest upbringing, clawing her way into Tokyo University on sheer determination and a scholarship. She had dreams, ambitions, and plans for medical school. Izuna had assumed all of this would make her practical, that she would see the appeal in aligning herself with wealth and power. And yet, time and time again, she pointed to their age gap as if it were an insurmountable wall.

Izuna silently cursed Madara for being so impossibly selective, showing interest in barely any woman. If wealth wasn’t enough to sway Sakura, what could he say to convince her? His brother’s rotten personality? Izuna nearly rolled his eyes.

“Was it the middle-aged part or the yakuza boss part that bothers you the most?” 

Sakura blinked at him, her expression shifting from skepticism to outright incredulity. “Do you even need to ask?” She shot back. “Both!”

Izuna let out another sigh, heavier this time. The report had been meticulous, detailing everything from her background to her sparse public interactions with her roommate—but words on a page couldn’t capture the intricacies of her relationships with Sasuke and, more importantly, Itachi. The fact that Itachi had told her anything at all was enough to pique Izuna’s interest. Itachi was calculated and careful, never one to waste words unless they served a purpose. So why her?

Izuna leaned forward slightly, his dark gaze searching. “Did Itachi-kun tell you anything else?”

Sakura hesitated as she contemplated her answer. Itachi had told her many things, as had Sasuke, but she couldn’t discern exactly what Izuna was probing for. Even so, she intended to use this ambiguity to her advantage to protect Sasuke and Itachi. 

“That might cost you a favor, Uchiha-san,” Sakura demanded, her eyes locked onto his with a newfound boldness as she raised her pinky once more.

Despite himself, Izuna’s lips twitched into a smile. She might be naive, but she was a smart one. He was beginning to understand why his brother seemed enthralled with her, though her attachment to Sasuke and Itachi posed a problem for his own plan.

“So be it,” Izuna agreed, nodding slowly.

Sakura sat straighter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then you have to be more specific.”

“Did he mention anything about his plan for my brother?” Izuna asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

Sakura immediately caught his particular choice of words. Izuna wasn’t hinting at Itachi’s plan with Madara to modernize the Kobu but rather about what Sasuke had said. 

Working with Madara to run an underground business just doesn’t sound like him. I only know that he’s planning something big, which means he’s unlikely to be working alone.

Sakura felt a prickle of unease at his scrutiny, but she managed to keep her expression neutral. “All I know is that he is working with someone on some kind of plan,” Sakura replied, her voice calm but guarded.

Izuna’s eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and curiosity. She wasn’t telling the whole truth again, but he had assumed correctly; she did have some knowledge about the plan after all. 

A quiet chuckle escaped his lips, low and unhurried, while Sakura watched him warily, trying to decipher what lay behind his mirth

“You know, Haruno-san,” Izuna mused. “When an outsider knows this much about the politics of the Kobu, they are usually taken care of.”

Sakura swallowed dryly, her mouth suddenly parched. Oh no, what did he mean by that? Where is he going with this?

Izuna leaned back slightly, relishing the brief flicker of panic in her otherwise defiant gaze. A quiet satisfaction curled in his chest at the sight of it. 

There were many ways the Kobu dealt with disturbances, and while Izuna acknowledged that his choice of words could easily be misconstrued, the truth was no less upsetting. Even if Sakura fully understood what taken care of truly meant, he was certain she wouldn’t like the answer either way.

She was strong, yes, but not unshakable. She was still human, still susceptible to pressure, to persuasion, and to him.

“Though with some time to gather my thoughts, I think you could help with our cause—” 

Sakura suddenly shot up from her chair in a decisive move. The chair legs scraped against the floor with a sharp screech.

“I’m sorry, Uchiha-san, but I’m going to stop you right there before I learn more things that might get me killed,” she declared. “I have no intention of being a pawn in this power struggle of the Kobu.”

Izuna blinked, momentarily thrown. He hadn’t expected her to reject him so swiftly and resolutely, especially after observing the fire in her earlier defiance. Had he pushed too far?

The sharp edge of panic cut through his composure as he leaned forward. “Please, at least hear me out,” he urged. 

Even though all she wanted to do was bolt right out of there, Sakura forced herself to pause, considering her options. Izuna had made it painfully clear that he believed she knew too much about the Kobu now, and the towering doors behind her remained locked. A reckless escape would get her nowhere. So if she wanted out, it might take listening to what he had to say.

Finally, Sakura exhaled sharply, steadying herself. “If I hear you out and still don’t want to be involved, am I free to walk out of here?”

Izuna inclined his head, his amusement growing. He could see the calculation in her eyes, the way she carefully covered her ground and ensured her safety. She was grasping for control in an interaction where she had little. 

“Of course.”

Sakura’s gaze sharpened, gauging his sincerity. “And my decision won’t have any effect on Sasuke-kun or Itachi-san?” 

“Neither you nor they will be harmed by the result of your decision,” Izuna confirmed. He watched as her gaze swept over him, searching for any flicker of deceit.

“Is there anything else you’re worried about?” He prompted, studying her with quiet amusement.

Sakura thought about it for a few seconds. It wasn’t the smartest thing to make a deal with the yakuza by word of mouth again, but they live by their code of honor, did they not? Besides, she wasn’t exactly in a position to make demands. Still, if she was already at a disadvantage, she might as well see how far she could push when given the option.

Sakura nodded. “How long will this take?”

Izuna raised an eyebrow, not expecting such a practical question. It was a legitimate concern, nonetheless, given that Shisui had essentially kidnapped her off the street during her routine errands. 

“Do you have to be somewhere?” He inquired.

“I was on my way to the supermarket before I was rudely interrupted,” Sakura replied, sneaking glances at Izuna to gauge his reaction. 

Izuna rubbed his temple, feeling the dull throb of an impending headache. This meeting was supposed to be handled discreetly—something easily forgotten, as if it had never happened at all. But that wouldn’t be possible if someone noticed Sakura’s absence and started asking questions.

“I’ll have someone get your groceries and deliver them to your door,” he offered, his tone more resigned than generous.

Sakura blinked, caught off guard. She had been prepared to negotiate for a quicker exit, not to have her errands taken care of for her. This deal might not be so bad after all. 

Without hesitation, she pulled out the grocery list she had written earlier and handed it over. Izuna barely glanced at it before snapping a quick photo and sending a text. When he put his phone down and returned the sticky note to Sakura, she reluctantly sat back down.

“Now then,” Izuna cleared his throat. 

Sakura groaned inwardly. She just knew this would take a while, judging by the way he squared his shoulders, and decided to start from the very beginning. 

“As the biggest yakuza group in the ever-changing Tokyo, it’s imperative that Kobu is evolving and adapting constantly to the rigorous laws,” Izuna began. “As you’ve likely already been informed, this effort is being spearheaded by my brother and Itachi-kun.”

Sakura nodded, but Izuna noticed the flicker of impatience in her eyes. She was growing weary of the reiteration of information she already knew. This was simply more evidence that she knew more than she let on.

“They’ve overseen several positive changes, including the abolition of the traditional penalty for defecting and yubitsume.” Izuna paused briefly, watching as Sakura stiffened with embarrassment. Suppressing a smirk, Izuna continued. “However, the Kobu in its current state is little more than a hollow shell of what it once was.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Now, we stand at a crossroads. My brother believed he could reform the Kobu, rebuild it from the ground up… but we believe it’s time the Kobu disbanded for good.”

Sakura’s eyes widened involuntarily as a surge of confusion and alarm rippled through her chest. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the fabric of her clothing rustling softly in the otherwise still room.

Disbanding? She could barely wrap her mind around the idea.

What is the Oyabun’s brother even talking about? How would this affect Sasuke and Itachi? 

Thousands of questions swirled in her mind, each one more urgent than the last. Yet, amidst the chaos, one question stood out.

“Who do you mean by ‘we’?” Sakura asked while Sasuke’s words echoed in the back of her mind: He is not working alone.

Izuna nodded, his expression calm, almost rehearsed, as if he had already expected her to ask. “That would be me and Itachi-kun.”

Sakura was sure her eyes were as wide as saucers. It was unfathomable that the ones who were working toward disbanding Kobu would be the close relatives of its very boss and branch boss.

From what she could gather, it was true that the Kobu didn’t hold as much influence and induce as much fear as it had back in its glory days when Sasuke’s father thrived. But it was still the biggest and most powerful yakuza group in Tokyo to date, with thousands of members not including those from the Uchiha clan themselves.

Sensing her struggle to make sense of his words, Izuna decided to elaborate.

“My brother doesn’t like to admit it, but the Kobu is slowly losing members, and there are many reasons for this,” he began. “It could range from young teens growing out of their rebellious phase to the older generation wanting to rejoin mainstream society. However, once you join Kobu, you’re branded by that label for the rest of your life.”

Much like a tattoo that the yakuza favored, Sakura realized. Even though fewer and fewer yakuza members were getting tattoos, the public still associated this form of art with its membership. The sight of even the faintest ink could bring exclusion—bathhouses, restaurants, public spaces—anywhere society demanded conformity. It didn’t matter if the tattoo was small, faded, or carefully concealed.

“As such, those who departed from Kobu and wished to live as law-abiding citizens faced immense obstacles,” Izuna continued, his voice measured yet impassioned. “At present, there is still no official government-funded program to help these people. That’s why we also have future plans to provide aid for our ex-member to properly reintegrate into society.”

Sakura listened intensely; every sentence seemed to ground her deeper into the complexity of the situation. She had heard that not many ex-yakuza members were able to secure and keep legitimate employment. There was also a law that limited their social rights for five years, making it difficult for them to open a bank account or rent an apartment under their names. She had seen it firsthand in her small hometown as well, where former yakuza members lived on the fringes, isolated from the rest of society.

“The tightening of the law has not only disrupted the coexistence of Kobu and the police department, but it has also pushed some defectors even further underground, which has created another problem,” Izuna said. “Because the police are no longer dealing with an organized, identifiable group, they’re dealing with shadows and whispers, isolated and scattered.”

“At the moment, they might have nothing but unpalatable rumors about the Uchiha enterprise and our ties to the Kobu,” Izuna continued. “But I believe they won’t hesitate to make a scapegoat out of the company and, in turn, the Uchiha clan itself.”

Sakura’s heart pounded in her chest as the full weight of his words settled. The scale of the societal problem was far more extensive than she had initially realized. While she understood that Izuna and Itachi’s cause was noble, the gravity of it all left her feeling like she was standing at the edge of an abyss. Even after Izuna’s detailed explanation, she was overwhelmed and felt more uncertain than ever about where she fit into all of this.

“Then what is it that you are asking me to do, Uchiha-san?” Sakura asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

As much as she wanted to help address this growing systematic problem, Sakura couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of her depth. What kind of power did he think she possessed to contribute to this monumental cause?

Izuna took a sip from the mug on his desk, his gaze steady on Sakura. He didn’t particularly seem to mind the silence hanging in the air between them. “After what I’ve told you today, I hope you understand my reasons for doing this,” he said. “And why you’re essential to my plan.”

Sakura sat straighter in her chair at his words. Despite herself, she was both terrified and intrigued by the idea of being a part of something so far-reaching.

“What I need you to do,” Izuna paused for dramatic effect. “Is to keep going on dates with my brother.”

Sakura shot to her feet. “Are you kidding me?!” She snapped, fury crackling in her voice as she made a move to flip his desk over.

The sudden movement startled Izuna, causing him to jerk back in alarm, his chair scraping loudly across the floor as he instinctively put distance between them.

“Why has it come back to this again?” She demanded, frustration and disbelief radiating off her in waves.

“What the hell are you doing, you violent girl?!” Izuna shouted. His professional mask shattered as he stood abruptly, slamming his palms down on the desk with a sharp thud that echoed between them. “I said, hear me out!” 

Before he knew it, he was now standing eye to eye with her; their faces were only a short distance apart. They were so close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheeks. Her eyes, bright and unflinching, locked onto his with a kind of wild intensity that made his pulse stutter. But his anger and pride refused to let him back down. 

Izuna didn’t know if she was actually capable of flipping his very heavy and very expensive desk, but the conviction in her eyes told him that she would try until it was done. He had read about it in her report, but to physically be on the receiving end of her explosive tendency was unexpectedly intimidating, despite her small frame. 

Sakura glared at Izuna, her fingers white-knuckled on the edge of the table. This was the second ‘hear me out’ she had heard, and her patience was stretched dangerously thin. 

“Your brother is one of the richest and most influential men in Tokyo,” Sakura shot back, her voice laced with sharp defiance. “I don’t see why you can’t just pay someone else to entertain him.”

Izuna’s face tightened, his jaw clenched as his voice rose to meet her challenge. “I have tried!” He snapped. “Why do you think he resorted to using the sugar baby service when he was so skeptical about it in the first place?”

Sakura blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by such an explosive reaction from a man who had been so composed this whole time, so in control of the situation up until now.

“I just…” Izuna’s word faltered, the discomfort in his voice palpable. “I’ve never seen him so pleased after his date with you.”

Sakura scoffed at the reminder of the disastrous date. “Did you even know what went down during the date?” Sakura challenged, her voice tinged with frustration. “He choked me while I tried to stab him with a pocketknife!”

Feeling the slow burn of embarrassment creep up his neck, Izuna cleared his throat as and straightened up. His fingers instinctively tugged at his shirt in a futile attempt to regain some semblance of professionalism. 

This is what Madara had described as ‘a perfect date?’ 

“I did not need to know that and will not comment on the activities you two engage in private.”

Sakura, already teetering on the edge of her patience, threw up her hands in exasperation. A low, guttural grunt escaped her throat as she struggled to keep her temper in check. 

“And what will this even achieve?” Her voice was thick with disbelief. “Or is this just another of Madara-sama’s tactic to trick me into dating him?”

“My brother can have tunnel vision,” Izuna replied evenly, his voice regaining its composed edge as he finally managed to steady himself. “And I want him to focus on other aspects of his life. I need him to step back from his work so that Itachi-kun can have more influence over Kobu.”

There was actually another reason. His brother was a man of tradition, bound tightly to the old ways, and so were the elders who whispered in his ear. Recently, both Madara and the council had voiced their disapproval of a particular wedding—one that was not only deeply personal to one of the elders but was also crucial to their plan. The groom-to-be was a controversial match, a relationship that clashed with the rigid expectations of their world. 

If Izuna could prove to Madara that these traditions were outdated, he could more easily sway both his brother and the elders into accepting broader, more progressive changes within Kobu. And what better way to force his brother into a corner than by making him confront his own contradictions?

Madara dating an outsider, someone not from the Uchiha branch nor a high-profile family, would put him in a bind. It would leave him with only two choices: either soften his stance on the wedding specifically and traditions in general or risk being labeled a hypocrite by upholding rules he, the leader, was unwilling to follow. And if Madara’s relationship with Sakura grew strong enough, it might even push him to put pressure on the elders, forcing them to approve of the marriage and the more progressive changes.

Although what he had told Sakura until now wasn’t a lie, he also didn’t tell her any of this after witnessing her outward distaste for his brother. So he watched as she crossed her arms, posture stiff with guarded skepticism. He caught the flicker of insult in her eyes, the way they hardened just slightly. She likely thought he saw her as nothing more than a convenient distraction for his brother. 

“And this is yours and Itachi-san’s brilliant idea of distracting your brother?” She asked. Though Sakura understood why Itachi hadn’t told her these things, she couldn’t help but feel betrayed by him. Once again, she felt like an outsider in a game she had never agreed to play.

Izuna shook his head, a hint of hesitation flickering across his features. “This opportunity came up recently, and I took it. Itachi-san is not aware of it yet.”

“Then shouldn’t you guys at least talk this through before dragging me into it?” Sakura countered, her voice edged with irritation.

Izuna paused for just a fraction too long. It was subtle, but Sakura caught it. And that was all the confirmation she needed. This was something Izuna knew Itachi wouldn’t agree to.

“I wanted to come to you first, before involving Itachi.”

Bullshit. 

Sakura didn’t even realize the words had escaped her lips until she saw Izuna’s expression shift—surprise, mixed with a touch of offense, flashing across his face. His brows furrowed slightly, and his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly not expecting her blunt response. But in that moment, Sakura couldn’t bring herself to care.

This had been a waste of her time—time she could have spent at home, cooking something warm and comforting for dinner instead of entertaining this ridiculous scheme. So with a decisive motion, she snatched her bag from the floor.

“My answer is no,” she declared firmly. “Now please open the door.”

Izuna hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating one last attempt to change her mind. But even he knew when a battle was lost. With a sigh of defeat, he reached toward a button on his desk. 

The soft click barely registered before the heavy doors swung open with a smooth, mechanical hiss. Sakura’s head snapped up at the sound to find Obito standing in the hallway, waiting for her.

“Thank you, Uchiha-san,” Sakura said tersely, her voice devoid of warmth. “I hope your plan for the Kobu works out.” 

Izuna inclined his head slightly, seemingly unbothered by her coldness. “All I ask is that you consider my brother’s invitation the next time he contacts you,” Izuna responded, his tone earnest.

For a fleeting moment, Sakura seemed to ponder his words. But then, with the faintest shake of her head—whether in dismissal of the idea or the entire conversation—it was clear she had already made up her mind.

“Have a good day, Uchiha-san,” she said curtly, and without another glance, she followed Obito out of the office. 

Izuna watched her retreating figure, his sharp gaze lingering until she disappeared behind the heavy wooden doors.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair in growing exasperation. Now that he knew about her close relationship to Itachi, one thing was painfully clear—he was going to have a very unpleasant conversation with his cousin soon. And knowing Itachi, it would be calm, quiet, and absolutely brutal.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Shisui was nowhere to be found when Sakura was escorted back to the car, and she was grateful for it. The moment she got her phone back from Obito, she immediately fired off a quick reply to Sasuke’s message: 

< Are you okay? You’ve been gone a while. >

Sakura sighed. She felt drained, physically and emotionally, from the intense conversation with Izuna. All she wanted now was to go home, maybe take a long shower, and pretend for just a little while that none of this had happened.

But she knew that was impossible. Telling Sasuke about this mess would be another ordeal entirely. She could already see his reaction—his sharp eyes narrowing, his jaw tightening as he demanded every last detail, pacing the room like a caged animal. But at this moment, she didn’t have the energy to care.

Leaning back against the cool leather seat, she let her body sink into the comfort of the car. She didn’t even bother fixing her slouch, letting exhaustion pull at her limbs. The rhythmic hum of the engine, the faint vibrations through the seat, the gentle sway of the vehicle as it glided down the road—it was all strangely soothing, lulling her into a state of half-awareness.

“The talk didn’t go well, I assume?” Obito’s voice cut through the quiet like a pebble tossed into still water—unexpected, yet oddly grounding. Though his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. He wasn’t usually one to pry, but something about this situation made him curious. Besides, it was a lot easier for Obito to loosen up when Shisui wasn’t around.

Technically, this escort had been his task alone. But it was typical of Shisui and his insufferable habit of inserting himself into everyone’s business, like he couldn’t help but tug at loose threads just to see what unraveled. So the moment Shisui caught wind of the specifics, he’d wedged himself into it without hesitation, which irritated Obito as much as it intrigued him.

But Shisui wasn’t the only one. The unusual amount of attention both Madara and Izuna had given this random college student, combined with the muffled clash of raised voices behind those heavy wooden doors, had piqued his curiosity. 

Sakura let out a long, weary sigh, frustration heavy in the exhale. “No,” she replied vaguely. She wasn’t sure how much she could say to someone uninvolved in Izuna’s secret plan—a scheme she had somehow been dragged into despite knowing so little about it herself. 

She rubbed her temple, slumping further into the seat before muttering, “How do you deal with them, Uchiha-san? These rich people are exhausting.”

Obito snorted, a rare sound of amusement that briefly lifted the thick tension in the car. Moments ago, the pink-haired girl had been all sharp edges, her body language screaming distrust. Now, she seemed too drained to keep up the act, so much so that she didn’t even realize she was casually trash-talking his clansmen right to his face. Not that he disagreed.

He might have been Madara’s right-hand man, but here he was, running errands for the Oyabun’s little brother—someone he neither worked for nor pledged loyalty to. Meanwhile, the one person who should have been handling this had inserted himself into the situation unprompted, only to vanish off to do Kami knows where.

“What do you think of Madara-sama, Uchiha-san?” Her voice suddenly cut through the monotonous hum of the engine.

Obito glanced at her through the rearview mirror. She wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, she gazed out of the car window, her cheek resting against her hand, fingers idly tracing invisible patterns on the glass. The sharp, defensive wall she had kept up since the start of their journey seemed to have crumbled, leaving only quiet exhaustion in its wake.

“He’s our great leader,” Obito replied automatically, his voice carrying none of the usual fervor that typically accompanied such declarations. It was reflexive, more out of habit than conviction.

Sakura groaned, a low, frustrated sound. In the rearview mirror, Obito caught the slight furrow of her brow, the telltale sign of her impatience. She clearly wanted to call out how boring and mechanical his answer was but had just enough awareness to hold herself back.

“Do you think he’s leading the Kobu in the right direction?” Sakura pushed as she continued to gaze out the window, as if the outside world held the answers to her probing questions. Her reflection was ghostly against the glass. 

Neither of them knew why she even cared about this topic to begin with, but the question lingered in the air.

“I have no comment on that,” Obito replied, his voice flat. 

Sakura blew raspberries, a childish sound amidst their serious conversation.

“Is this car bugged, or are you just a coward who can’t speak his mind?” She challenged, her tone laced with provocation.

Obito’s jaw tightened. His fingers flexed against the steering wheel as he shot a glare at her reflection in the rearview mirror. The car was not bugged, and he had a strong suspicion Sakura knew that too. Yet, her eyes held a knowing glint, as if she were offering him a second chance, an opportunity to step beyond his practiced neutrality.

“Would you do something stupid for a greater cause, Uchiha-san?” She asked suddenly, her voice softer now, almost contemplative.

Obito exhaled slowly, the weight of the question pressing against something buried deep within him.

“I’m part of the yakuza, Haruno-san,” he clipped, his tone edged with a quiet bitterness, a resignation that tasted like old regrets. “It’s the only line in my job description.”

Despite herself, Sakura let out a sudden snort as a wry smile played at the corners of her lips. The sound was small, fleeting, but it echoed like laughter in a hollow space.

Oddly enough, a flicker of pride stirred in Obito. He hadn’t aimed for a reaction, least of all amusement, but there it was, lighting up her face for just a second. Somehow, it felt like a small victory—quiet and inexplicably satisfying. What he didn’t realize was that Sakura felt it too.

From the moment she met him, Obito had struck Sakura as someone who existed purely to get the job done—cold, efficient, a seamless cog in the yakuza machine. But now, for the first time, she was seeing something beyond the hardened exterior. Something human.

Something about the way he spoke—guarded, yet honest—had chipped away at her defenses. And the easing of tension allowed both of them to drop their guards, if only for a fleeting second.

“I hope this is not too forward, Uchiha-san,” Sakura began, her voice hesitant. “But what happened to your…face?”

Contrasting Sakura’s reluctance, Obito didn’t hesitate.

“I did something stupid for a greater cause,” he replied flatly, his tone devoid of emotion, as if it were just another item on a long, impersonal list of facts about himself.

Sakura rolled her eyes, but a small, involuntary smile tugged at her lips. The absurdity of Obito’s answer, paired with his deadpan delivery, was almost too much.

“What was the greater cause?” She asked, her curiosity outweighing her restraint.

“Love,” Obito said, voice still so monotone, so unreadable that Sakura couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or deadly serious.

“For your fellow Kobu members?” She ventured, though disbelief tinged her voice.

Obito scoffed—a sharp, humorless sound that cut through the air in the confined space of the car. When he saw her finally looking at him through the mirror, her eyes wide and posture tense, betraying her struggle to contain her curiosity, he decided to elaborate.

“No,” he said, after a beat. “I was blinded trying to protect a friend from a debt collector.”

His voice softened, just barely, as if the memory had surfaced before he could push it back down. His casual tone was a poor disguise for the raw edges of pain and regret.

He had been just a kid—too young to wield that kind of violence, too young to bear the weight of what he had done. And yet, the memory burned in his mind, seared into his very being. The sickening crunch of bone beneath his fists, the sharp scent of blood in the air, the desperate gasps of the debt collectors. Adrenaline had roared through his veins, drowning out reason, until there was nothing left but raw, unbridled fury.

But what haunted him most wasn’t the violence. It was her—the way his friend had looked at him when the dust had settled. Eyes wide, lips parted in a silent scream, as if she had just witnessed a monster crawl out of the boy she thought she knew. This was just yet another reminder that his world was not the same world she lived in.

“Did things... work out in the end?” Sakura asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she were afraid the answer might shatter something fragile within her.

Obito nodded, slow and deliberate, as he let the past settle like ash in his mind. “Madara-sama took care of it. She’s happy now. Married.”

Obito’s gaze flickered to the rearview mirror, catching the way Sakura’s round eyes widened with curiosity, the way her lips curved into a hopeful smile. There was something almost childlike in her expression, a quiet eagerness that tugged at a memory buried deep within him.

“You... look kind of like her, actually,” he murmured, his voice softening despite himself.

“Really?” Sakura perked up, her cheeks tinged with the faintest flush. “Is she pretty?”

For a moment, he hesitated. It wasn’t just the resemblance in their features—the soft curve of their cheeks, the bright, searching eyes. It was the way hope radiated from Sakura, untainted and pure, just like her. It was uncanny, almost unsettling.

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone emotionless, yet a small smirk tugged at his lips. “More than you.”

Sakura’s hopeful expression faltered, twisting into a pout almost instantly. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as her cheeks bloomed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

While she regretted ever asking, Obito fought hard to suppress a smile. The expression Sakura wore was eerily familiar to his friend’s reaction to a teasing remark. From the way her lower lip jutted out just a little too far to the frustrated fire in her eyes, it was as though time had folded in on itself.

Sakura, however, wasn’t about to let the moment linger. The discomfort was starting to pool in her chest, and she desperately needed to change the subject before she drowned in the awkwardness. She cleared her throat softly; her eyes flickered nervously to the side, avoiding his reflection in the mirror.

“This ‘doing something stupid for the greater cause’ thing… do you think I should do it?” Her voice wavered slightly, uncertainty bleeding through the words.

He considered her silently for a long moment, letting the hum of the engine fill the space between them. 

When Obito realized that she wasn’t going to offer up any badly needed context, he asked, “What do you get out of it?”

Sakura shrugged, her gaze distant as she stared out the window. “A life of deceit and disappointment, I think.”

“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

Sakura’s lips quirked slightly, the hint of a bitter laugh escaping her as she turned her gaze back to the road. “Yeah, but I’ll be very rich,” she said, her words laced with dry irony, as if she were trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

Obito chuckled, a low, throaty sound that broke the tension. “I can’t argue with that.”

Sakura found herself smiling, a genuine, unguarded curve of her lips. To her surprise, she didn’t mind Obito’s company at all. He wore his intimidation like a second skin—broad shoulders, sharp eyes, a voice that rarely rose above a calm warning—but beneath all that steel, his blunt honesty had a strange warmth to it. He was rough and unpolished, maybe even a little abrasive, but refreshingly unfiltered. There was no pretense with him, no carefully crafted words meant to manipulate or deceive her. It was exactly what she needed at that moment.

“And that playboy said you don’t like to talk,” she teased.

Obito scoffed, his disdain barely concealed. “Not to him, I don’t.”

Sakura let out a quiet laugh, unable to disagree. She shared the sentiment completely.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke frowned as he checked the time again. Sakura had been gone far too long for a simple store run. A vague sense of unease had settled in his chest, but it wasn’t until he spotted her stepping out of a sleek black car, the kind typically used by the Kobu, that his alarm truly sounded.

His eyes narrowed as he recognized the man with half his face covered sitting in the driver’s seat. Sasuke watched in silence as Sakura bowed, too politely to someone like Obito, before ascending the stairway to their apartment. 

When he could see she was unharmed, at least, he exhaled slowly, forcing his shoulders to relax. But still, he didn’t like this. Not one bit.

The moment Sakura stepped inside their apartment, Sasuke was on her, his concern overriding any attempt at restraint.

“Are you okay? Did Obito do anything to you? What happened?” His voice was taut, his sharp gaze scanning her as if looking for any sign of distress.

“I’m okay.” Sakura moved her arms and legs, her voice light and reassuring, though it wasn’t enough to ease the knot tightening in Sasuke’s chest. “Obito was surprisingly really pleasant company, actually.”

Sasuke’s eyebrows drew together, his eyes narrowing with a mix of disbelief and growing irritation. Obito? Pleasant? His mind struggled to reconcile the words with the man he knew. But before he could voice his annoyance, Sakura’s next word stole his attention.

“I just had a very frustrating talk with Madara’s brother.”

Sasuke’s brow shot up in surprise. “Izuna?” He asked. “What did he want to talk to you about?”

Of all his clansmen, Izuna was the last person Sasuke expected to ever contact him, let alone Sakura. The man lacked the drive to take charge or fight for any cause that didn’t directly involve his brother. But his loyalty and steadfastness were what made him a great second-in-command under Madara. Nevertheless, Sasuke immediately pulled out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly across the screen as his thoughts spun. 

Sakura let out a soft sigh, dropping her bag onto the table with a muffled thud before she sat down. She rested her head on her arm; her fingers traced absent-minded patterns on the surface. “I don’t even know; he was talking to me about needing my help for his stupid plan.”

Her tone was light, almost casual. She didn’t seem scared, like Sasuke had expected. if anything, her voice held the hint of a frustration that mirrored his own. 

But then suddenly, Sakura sat straight up, a furrow forming between her brows as if she had just remembered something important. “Has anyone brought the groceries yet?”

Sasuke blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. His mind hadn’t quite caught up with her words. “No? What are you even talking about?” He muttered, his voice distracted, the question trailing off as his eyes remained glued to the screen of his phone. 

With a frustrated grunt, he shoved the phone closer to his ear. “Itachi, I need you to get over here ASAP!”

He could almost hear his brother’s sigh on the other end, despite the distance. Given how often Sasuke had called for Itachi’s immediate presence over the last few months, his older brother had half-jokingly suggested that Sasuke might as well find him an apartment next door.

At this point, Itachi was seriously considering it.

“Say the words I taught you, Sasuke,” Itachi’s calm voice came through the phone, but there was an unmistakable edge of amusement beneath his words.

Sasuke grumbled under his breath. He shot a quick glance at Sakura, who seemed so out of it that he doubted she even cared about their conversation. With a sigh, he forced the words out, his tone tight and laced with irritation. “Hello, brother, how are you doing? Happy?”

Itachi’s laughter came through, light and knowing, as if he enjoyed the discomfort in Sasuke’s voice. “I’m doing great, Sasuke!” The younger Uchiha clenched his jaw, hating how pleased his brother sounded. “What’s the emergency this time?”

Sasuke’s annoyance flared, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the more pressing matter at hand. “Izuna had a talk with Sakura about some kind of plan today.” Sasuke explained tersely, his concern evident despite his annoyance.

There was a brief silence on the other end before Itachi’s tone shifted, a slight hardness creeping in. “Izuna did?” His voice took on a note of disbelief, and Sasuke could practically hear him rubbing his temple in frustration. Itachi was going to be using some very unprofessional words on the phone with his business partner after this. “I’m on my way.”

While Sasuke was engrossed in the phone call, Sakura had gotten up and begun busying herself with making tea for the incoming guest. Just as she placed the kettle on the stove, her phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number:

< I’m here! 🖤 >

Sakura blinked, confusion flooding her thoughts.

Who is this? Wrong number?

Before she could dwell on the strange message, the sharp chime of the doorbell cut through the apartment, making both her and Sasuke exchange puzzled glances. There was no way Itachi could have arrived that fast.

“Coming!” Sakura called, setting her phone down on the kitchen counter. She walked briskly toward the door, expecting to see Itachi’s familiar face on the other side.

But the second she swung the door open, her heart sank as she realized her mistake. Standing there, smirking like he owned the world, was a figure she had hoped never to encounter again.

“Hi, Princess,” Shisui drawled, holding up two heavy grocery bags as if he were presenting a grand prize. “I’m here with your delivery!”

Sakura felt her eye twitch involuntarily.

From behind her, Sasuke’s voice cut through the air, sharp and incredulous. “Shisui?” His brow furrowed in utter disbelief. “What the hell do you want?”

“Hey, is that any way to talk—“

Sakura snatched the grocery bags from Shisui and slammed the door in his grinning face before he could even finish his sentence. She had had enough of Uchiha men today, especially this one.

Sakura’s phone chimed again, the sound grating against her already frayed nerves.

< That was rude, Princess. 😞 >

< I was so looking forward to eating your cooking! >

< I’ll forgive you this time, but remember to save my number! 🖤 >

Sakura let out an exasperated sigh and promptly blocked the number.

Later that night, over a tense dinner, Sakura recounted her encounter with Izuna and his brilliant plan to set her up with Madara to the Uchiha brothers. It was clear from the sharp edge in Itachi’s gaze that he was far from pleased about his plan being leaked to Sakura through Izuna. It would appear that whether Madara knew about their living arrangement was uncertain, though unlikely. It went without saying that no one was even remotely pleased with Izuna’s lackluster efforts to find his brother a suitable girlfriend.

Chapter Text

Sakura let out a weary sigh, her fingers tightening around the cold, slippery edges of her phone. She stared down at the dark screen, the faint hope in her chest flickering just like the device had moments ago. Once again, she had found herself drenched from the rain, but this time, it truly wasn’t her fault.

The storm had changed course last minute, rolling in with a fury that defied the forecast. Thick, slate-colored clouds cracked open above her, and within seconds, sheets of rain came cascading down, soaking her through to the bone. The cold hit her skin like icy needles; her thin jacket offered no protection. Droplets streamed from her bangs, blurred her vision, and crept down the curve of her spine like icy fingers. Every step squelched with the miserable squish of soaked socks in her boots, and the wind lashed at her face, making her eyes water and her cheeks burn.

She had barely managed to tap out a hurried message to Sasuke—On the train, probably back soon—before her phone’s screen dimmed and blinked off for good. She stared at the lifeless device in her hands for a heartbeat, willing it to turn back on. But the battery had finally given out, at quite possibly the worst moment imaginable.

The train had been packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder as commuters scrambled to beat the worst of the storm home. Sakura stood wedged between two strangers, swaying slightly with each motion of the car, her thoughts blurred by the rhythmic hum of the tracks until the sudden jolt. 

With a violent lurch, the train screeched to a halt. A ripple of movement surged through the crowd like falling dominoes and Sakura stumbled forward. Though she managed to catch herself with her right hand, pain immediately exploded up her wrist, and she instinctively hissed and pulled it close. It was just her luck today.

The intercom sputtered to life, the voice on the other end barely cutting through the roar of rain and distant thunder.

“All passengers, please evacuate. Service is suspended due to flooding risk ahead.”

A collective groan rippled through the cabin. As the doors slid open, the platform beyond flickered under stuttering fluorescent lights. People spilled out in a blur of umbrellas, backpacks, and muttered curses, their faces drawn and tired. Sakura lingered near the wall, away from the main current of bodies, nursing her wrist.

Her first instinct was to wait it out and hope the trains resumed soon. But another thought began to nibble at the edge of her mind.

Sakura hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek as her eyes flicked toward the station exit. She hated the idea of inconveniencing anyone. But the thought of Sasuke pacing the apartment, glancing at the door every few minutes, waiting for a message that wouldn’t come, made her stomach knot. She just needed to charge her phone. Five minutes, ten tops. Then she could text Sasuke, tell him she was safe, and maybe even wait out the storm somewhere a little warmer than this wind tunnel of a station.

With a soft huff of resolve, Sakura squared her shoulders, turned her collar up against the wind, and stepped toward the exit, prepared to brave the storm. 

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Itachi sat motionless in the living room, the glow of the television casting faint, shifting light across his tired features. The evening news played in the background, the anchor’s voice reduced to a muted hum beneath the relentless drumming of rain against the windows. Outside, the world blurred into shadow and water. Inside, he was no less storm-tossed.

The past few weeks had drained him dry—one problem bleeding into the next, with no room to breathe. Every solution seemed to birth a new problem, each one more tangled than the last. But none of it was his fault nor Izuna’s, at least not entirely. It was simply the nature of the impossible task he had taken upon himself to overthrow Madara. The impromptu dinner at Sasuke’s apartment, a forced gathering in the aftermath of Sakura’s encounter with Izuna, had only been the bitter icing on an already soured week.

Since then, Sasuke had been checking in now and then—mostly to ask about Sakura’s safety in light of the plan and once, briefly, to ask how he was doing. But even with those openings where honesty could’ve surfaced, Itachi never disclosed that he braced for every time Sakura’s name came up with urgency in Sasuke’s voice. It’s the quiet dread, the expectation that this would be it. That she would finally choose peace, sanity, and safety. All the things they could never guarantee her. That she’d leave them behind, like she should have.

He had always been prepared to be the villain, the necessary evil. And he had been the resigned coward sitting across from her at that café, where they revealed to her the curse they bear as Uchiha clan members. He was convinced she’d be gone after that. It would have been the logical choice.

But then Sasuke called again to tell him about her run-in with Izuna. Another reckless, volatile situation, one they hadn’t prepared her for, one she shouldn’t have had to face.

Itachi could hear the exhaustion in Sakura’s voice, but even when she was worn down to her last thread, she still tried to explain everything clearly, holding herself together for them.

The girl who never quite knew when to stop, who never knew what was good for her, was still more concerned about the possibility that Madara might know of Sasuke’s situation than her own well-being. 

The least he could do was explain why it mattered that Sasuke’s situation needed to be contained so carefully. If the elders or Madara caught wind of it, they’d have all the ammunition they needed to question his right to lead. The fact that Sasuke had run away from home to escape the life of a Kobu wouldn’t just reflect poorly on him; it would also call into question their father’s authority, their branch family’s influence, and their ability to raise and control one of their own. In a world built on perception, loyalty, and legacy, that kind of weakness was unforgivable.

Itachi had been mindful to divulge only the necessary details, making sure that she wasn’t dragged deeper than she already was. And he intended to make sure everyone else in the plan followed that same rule. He needed to keep her on the periphery, close enough to be aware, far enough to protect.

Although the conversation had ended as well as it could have, Itachi remembered the frustration that lingered afterward—at her, at himself. He knew what the right thing was. He should’ve told her to leave while she still could. They had the resources and the connections to keep her safe from a distance. But even with all his logic and resolve, he couldn’t bring himself to say it that night.

Because the truth was, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved she was still here. Still choosing to be tangled up in their chaos. Still putting up with them—with him. But then that tense dinner came to a close, and he was sure that this must be close to, if not the final straw for Sakura to consider cutting ties with all of them. After learning that his endgame was to become the next Oyabun, how could she not walk away?

He hoped selfishly that when that day came, he would get to see her one last time to hear it from her directly, because that was the kind of person she was. Kind, painfully sincere, even when it hurt her.

The storm outside had been relentless for the past hour, wind howling through the cracks and rain lashing hard against the windows. But he had all but tuned it out, letting it blur into the background noise of a long, punishing week, until the doorbell rang.

Not expecting visitors, especially not this late, he frowned, the quiet hum of the storm outside suddenly sharper in his awareness. With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up from the couch and reached for the door without even checking the security camera. Opening it, he found Sakura standing there, drenched, shivering.

Rainwater streamed from her bangs, catching on her lashes before spilling down her cheeks like silent tears. Her clothes were soaked through, clinging to her skin; her shoulders were drawn in tight against the chill. The hallway light cast a soft halo around her, but her eyes were hesitant, unsure. She looked like a ghost of a thought he hadn’t been ready to let go of.

Itachi froze. He had just been thinking of the inevitability of her walking away. And now she was here, standing in front of him, like the storm had carved a path straight through the city and left her at his door.

Had she really come to...

“I’m sorry if this is a bad–”

“Come in,” he cut her off, more sharply than he meant to. If she had come to do what he feared, then he was only helping her get it over with faster. But he couldn’t bear to see her like this. Not cold, not trembling, not standing there like she didn’t belong.

He stepped aside, holding the door open in a silent invitation, resisting the urge to reach for her. But Sakura lingered at the threshold, her eyes flickering past him to the polished floor beyond.

“But the floor—”

“Sakura,” he clipped. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a command. It wasn’t his nature to push or force. But tonight, after weeks of careful planning that led nowhere, after days of pretending control he didn’t feel, it was difficult not to want his words to mean something. And with Sakura, they always had. It brought him a sense of grounding and control he hadn’t realized he’d been starved of until now.

She stilled at the sound of her name. There was something in the way he said it that caught her breath in her throat, that made her spine straighten even as her heart gave a quiet stutter. His gaze held a worry so uncharacteristically open, it sent a shiver down her back, though whether it was from the cold or from him, she couldn’t say.

Sakura swallowed against the knot in her throat and stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind her, muffling the storm and sealing them into a cocoon of stillness.

She paused once more, suddenly hyper-aware of the water dripping from her clothes, the faint squelch of her shoes on the floor. She opened her mouth to explain that she wouldn’t stay long, but Itachi had already turned and disappeared down the hallway.

Moments later, he returned with a stack of clean towels and a folded change of clothes balanced neatly in his arms. He held them out to her without a word, his gaze expectant.

“I just need to charge my phone—”

“Then I can do that while you take a shower,” he interrupted. “I’m not going to have you stay in this state in my home.”

Sakura blinked, thrown by the insistence in his tone. Another silent order, veiled in calm certainty, but there was no pity in his eyes, only resolve, as if the decision had already been made and she’d simply yet to catch up. So before she could muster another protest, Itachi reached out and gently relieved her of her soaked bag.

But as he pulled it away, the strap caught against her other hand, causing her to wince with a sharp hiss of pain as she instinctively cradled her wrist to her chest. 

The sound stopped him cold. His brow furrowed in alarm as dark eyes flickered to her hand in immediate concern. But before he could speak, Sakura forced a crooked, almost sheepish smile to her lips.

“It’s nothing serious,” she said quickly, cutting off the question she could already see forming in his eyes.

He paused, eyes narrowing just slightly. For a breath, it looked like he might press her, but she was still dripping wet, visibly cold, and he seemed to choose practicality over confrontation.

“The bathroom is over there,” he said finally, nodding to his left, yet the unease didn’t leave him.

Sakura hesitated for a second, the towels and change of clothes now pressed against her chest. But the chill crawling up her spine nudged her forward, and the look in his eyes made it even harder to say no. So she gave a small nod, murmuring a soft “Thank you” before removing her shoes and padding carefully toward the bathroom, her wet socks leaving faint, dark prints behind her.

Itachi watched her figure disappear behind the bathroom door until he heard the soft click of the latch. Only then did his muscles loosen, as if some part of him expected her to change her mind and walk back out into the storm.

He turned, retrieved her phone from her bag, and plugged it in before setting it gently aside. Then, he made his way to the kitchen to heat the water. While waiting, he composed a brief update to his brother, thumbs tapping out words on autopilot.

The message sent with a soft ping, and he set the device down, letting his weight rest heavier against the counter’s edge. A breath escaped him as doubt started to creep in if he had made the right decision. The image of her standing at his doorstep played over and over in his mind, and so did his thought as some instinct deep in his bones began to stir. 

He knew it was selfish, but the more he tried to suppress the thought, the louder it became. He had told himself to make peace with the possibility of never seeing her again. Yet his mind was telling him the opposite.

Keep her here. Convince her. Don’t let this be the last time.

Why she needed to reconsider, he wasn’t even sure himself. Was it for her sake? Sasuke’s? His?

He had always been good at persuading others, at shaping conversations and bending outcomes to his will. It was part of what made him effective, dangerous. And yet, he hated how indecisive, how weak he felt now when he couldn’t let go of that small, selfish instinct born out of want rather than necessity.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sakura wasn’t sure what her plan was when she came up with the idea to come running to Itachi for help, but this certainly wasn’t it. Standing in his apartment now, dripping water onto his polished floor, there was no backing out of it now.

The bathroom was sleek and meticulously arranged. A full-sized bathtub took up one side of the room. It was worlds apart from the cramped, utilitarian one in her shared apartment. Even the toiletries were immaculate. Bottles of shampoo and bath gel sat nestled in a small tray, poured into amber glass containers with elegant, minimalist labels. They weren’t store-bought clutter or accidental aesthetics but chosen and curated. The space spoke of control, of a mind that noticed the smallest things and left nothing to chance.

Everything was simple, intentional, and precise. Like him.

Sakura set the fresh clothes on the counter and let out a slow breath. The mirror reflected a girl with wet hair clinging to her face, eyes rimmed with tiredness, and water still dripping from her chin.

She looked fragile and vulnerable, but she felt oddly safe.

Not wanting to linger in the bathroom longer than necessary, Sakura moved toward the wall panel and began to fill the tub using the controller. She then moved to undress, her wet clothes cold and heavy against her skin. It felt strange, peeling them off in an unfamiliar space, especially here, in Itachi’s home. It made her feel uneasy and exposed, but she pushed the thought aside, not wanting to linger on it.

Her fingers trembled as she reached down to the hem of her shirt, crossing her arms to tug it over her head, but a sudden sting burst through her wrist like a snapped rubber band and Sakura hissed through clenched teeth. The shirt slipped from her grasp, her body tensing as she clutched the injured hand.

She froze and strained to listen, half-expecting to hear footsteps, the soft knock of concern at the door. But nothing came. Just the quiet trickle of the filling tub and the low rumble of thunder in the distance.

She let out a slow breath and looked down at her wrist.

It was already red, the skin warm and tender beneath her fingers. There was no swelling or bruising yet, but she knew better than to take it lightly. It was a mild sprain, but a sprain all the same. Deciding to test her range of motion, she slowly curled her fingers, only to instantly regret it when a sharp jolt of discomfort raced up her forearm. 

Great.

With one hand effectively out of commission, cleaning herself was about to become significantly more difficult, but she reasoned that she could try to tough it out. She’d managed worse. 

Moving slowly and cautiously, Sakura managed to strip off the rest of her soaked clothes with only one functioning arm. Each motion was calculated to avoid jarring her injured wrist. By the time she was done, her skin prickled from the chill, goosebumps rising along her arms and legs.

She sat down on the bath stool, her bare skin meeting the cool surface with a slight flinch. The water hissed to life when she turned on the faucet. It splashed against her skin, cold at first, making her shiver. Then gradually, it warmed, crawling over her like a sigh of relief, loosening the tension in her shoulders.

But as her gaze drifted toward the shelf, her body stiffened again. The bottle looked slippery and fragile. The last thing she wanted to do was break anything, or worse, make a scene.

As her mind raced through the consequences of a single misstep, questions tumbled forward unbiddenly. Would it be worse to ask for help? Or to risk breaking his things and drawing more attention to herself?

A groan slipped past her lips as she realized the absurdity of her thoughts.

Maybe the rain had soaked into her brain. She couldn’t believe she’d even entertained the idea. What is she even asking Itachi to help with specifically?

Just because she ran to him for help whenever Sasuke couldn’t offer it didn’t mean that he was available to help her with everything!

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Sakura managed to pump the bath gel into her palm with her good hand. She then tried to ignore the pain as best she could as she used both hands to lather herself with soap.

But just when she thought she was starting to get used to the awkwardness of handling everything with both hands, she twisted her wrist too far while trying to reach her back. The pain flared sharply and another hiss slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

This time, the sound didn’t go unnoticed. From the other side of the door, Itachi’s voice cut through the quiet. “Are you okay in there, Sakura-san?”

The words were calm as always, yet there was a trace of concern, just enough to send a quick jolt of panic through her chest.

“Y-yeah! I’m fine!” She called back, her voice high-pitched and hurried, betraying her. She forced a laugh, hoping he wouldn’t catch on. His silence on the other side of the door tells her he wasn’t convinced, but he had left her alone for now.

Sakura exhaled sharply, the breath leaving her in a rush of relief. The air inside the bathroom was warm with steam, but it did little to chase away the chill of being caught in a lie. 

Deciding she needed to move on, she cleaned off the soap on her skin and wet her hair, feeling the water run over her scalp, trickling down her spine in warm rivulets. It was almost soothing, the weight of the world temporarily slipping away beneath the water’s touch.

She reached for the shampoo next, cradling the amber glass bottle with her injured hand and bracing it awkwardly against her thigh. The slick glass felt treacherous under her grip, but she used her good hand to press down on the pump. 

When the pump resisted, Sakura gritted her teeth and applied more force, trying to steady the bottle with her trembling hand. But then her grip slipped and the bottle tumbled from her grasp. It hit the tile floor with a sharp clink, followed by a loud, jarring crash.

Glass exploded across the tiles in glittering fragments, and the scent of the shampoo rushed into the warm air, suddenly overpowering. The sound seemed to echo in the small, tiled bathroom, bouncing off the walls as if to scold her. Her stomach dropped. Panic clawed its way up her throat the moment she heard footsteps approaching the bathroom.

“Sakura-san!” Itachi’s voice rang out from behind the door, taut with concern. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry! I—I broke the shampoo bottle!” She blurted it out in a rush, her voice high and frantic as she desperately tried to collect the broken pieces. The sound of her apology felt so trivial compared to the mess she had caused.

She expected the sound of footsteps retreating as he chose to give her space, to let her clean up the mess alone. But the footsteps didn’t fade. Instead, she heard the soft click of the doorknob turning, a gentle pressure testing if the door had been locked.

“Don’t touch the glass,” Itachi said from the other side of the door, his voice laced with urgency. “Get in the tub. I’m opening the door.”

Sakura’s blood ran cold. She’d been so caught up in the chaos that she hadn’t thought to lock the door.

Without thinking, she scrambled into the tub as instructed. She faced away from the door, limbs folded tightly around her, arms clutching her knees, shoulders hunched in a subconscious attempt to make herself smaller. The water splashed against the floor as she sank lower, trying to hide in its embrace. It felt like a tiny, pathetic refuge, but at least it offered some semblance of distance. Her heart pounded so loudly she almost didn’t hear him ask again.

“Are you in the tub?”

“Yes!” She replied.

Only then did the door creak open. The cold air from outside immediately rushed in, brushing against her wet skin and drawing a fresh wave of goosebumps. She kept her gaze fixed downward, her chin tucked tightly to her knees, but she could hear the shift of his footsteps, could feel his presence in the doorway.

Peeking over her shoulder, she saw the door cracked open just enough for him to assess the damage. The shampoo bottle lay in shattered fragments across the tile, a small pool of amber liquid spreading like a guilty stain.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Itachi asked.

The automatic “no” was poised on her lips, but she bit it back. She knew Itachi well enough to understand that he wasn’t asking out of idle curiosity or empty concern. And while she knew he could lie with terrifying grace, somehow, she could never bring herself to do the same to him.

“Not from the bottle,” she admitted quietly. “I sprained my wrist earlier. On the train.”

There was a long, unbearable silence that followed when Itachi seemed to be contemplating his next move. Sakura held her breath, praying he would just close the door and leave her to deal with her mess on her own. But then his voice came again. 

“Don’t move; I’m coming back to clean this up.” Not an offer. A statement. Decided. Irrevocable.

Then Itachi was gone and the silence returned, broken only by the rhythmic drip of the faucet tapping against the tiles below. Sakura allowed herself a moment to breathe, to gather the scattered pieces of her nerves and thoughts. But then came the soft scrape of something against the counter—a replacement bottle, likely. A second later, the delicate clink of glass shards meeting one another broke through the quiet, followed by the faint rustle of bristles sweeping them across the tile.

On the wall before her, his shadow shifted—long and fluid. It slid across the bathroom wall, moving to the other side of the room. She held her breath, expecting the door to shut gently behind him, signaling his retreat. But it didn’t.

He had stilled. She could feel him lingering there just beyond the frame. When Itachi finally spoke, his voice was low, taut with something between frustration and resignation.

“Sakura-san,” he said slowly, “I’m not sure how I should say this, but… I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone in the bathroom like this.”

Her breath hitched. She blinked in confusion, turning slightly toward the sound of his voice. “Do you want me to get out?”

“No, that’s not—” he stopped himself. “You can’t quite use your hand, can you?”

Sakura swallowed. Of course he’d pieced it together—the broken bottle and the way she shielded her wrist without realizing. Itachi saw right through her, as always.

Reluctantly, she nodded, the movement heavy with quiet defeat. “I can still use my other hand,” she murmured. “But… I might have to spend a little longer in your bathroom, if that’s okay with you.”

A beat passed, long enough to make her stomach twist with unease. 

“It’s not.”

Sakura blinked, stunned. Even knowing she might be pushing her welcome, she hadn’t expected a flat refusal from someone as measured and polite as Itachi was. She had always seen him as someone whose patience was usually as bottomless as his gentleness, but this version of him was a lot more assertive and unapologetically direct.

“You came in from the storm soaked to the bone,” he continued, his tone firm but edged with concern. “I’m not going to risk you getting sick under my watch.”

His words settled into the air like a command, not barked but delivered with that Uchiha steel. It made something flutter uneasily in her chest.

“I’ll try to be as quick as possible,” she murmured, her voice thin and stitched with apology. The words felt like they barely held together.

There was a pause where Sakura imagined Itachi was shaking his head disapprovingly. But contrary to Sakura’s belief, it was disappointment directed at the way he’d handled everything since she arrived. Because this wasn’t what he wanted either.

She had come here seeking help. And yet somehow, she now found herself submerged in his bathtub, soaked in shame, tangled in silence, and deeper inside his world than either of them had intended. He hadn’t meant to make her feel unwelcome. But now, with the fragile tension stretched taut between them, even his attempts to set boundaries only served to blur them further.

He had seen the way she held her wrist like it was made of glass the moment she stepped foot in his home, yet he had let her manage herself in the bathroom. Her injury had rendered one of her dominant hands useless in the most exposed setting possible. The fact that she hadn’t injured herself from breaking the bottle was simply pure luck. So was he waiting to let her hurt herself again on his watch before he stepped in?

He didn’t know what he wanted—not fully, when he let the next words slip from his mouth. All he could think about was how to convince her to stay, to trust him, if only for a little bit. 

“You were washing your hair, weren’t you?” Itachi asked, his voice softer now.

Sakura hesitated, unsure where this was leading, unsure if she was being scolded or simply seen.

“Yes,” she replied at last, though the word hovered in the air more like a question than an answer.

“I can help you,” he finally said. “Just your hair.”

Her breath hitched. “Help with my hair?” She echoed, the panic tightening in her chest as she instantly felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks. Behind her, she could hear the rustling of a towel.

“I won’t see anything,” he said, sensing her hesitation, but his tone made it clear he won’t budge on the decision. “I’ll keep this towel tied around my eyes at all times.”

His reassurance should have eased the panic coiled in her chest, but instead, her heartbeat only pounded louder. Sakura’s next words died in her throat when she could hear slow footsteps walking toward her. She froze, her back to the door, eyes wide as his shadow fell upon her and stretched across the wall ahead of her. She flinched when his hand appeared near the edge of the tub, fingers halting just short of her skin, as if respecting a border neither of them knew how to define.

Sakura could feel Itachi’s presence behind her, hear the soft rustle of fabric as he slowly knelt beside the bathtub. Instinctively, she hugged her knees closer to her chest, curling in on herself. Then came the sound of a bottle being set down gently on the tile. Sakura held her breath.

“Sakura-san.”

Sakura flinched at the sound of her name. Not from fear, but from the startling intimacy of it, like being touched without warning.

Just as he’d promised, Itachi had tied a thick towel around his eyes, the ends knotted at the back of his head. Despite his swift decision, Sakura could see the tension in his jaw betraying his nervousness. She watched as Itachi groped along the tile in careful, uncertain arcs until they found the bottle and pumped shampoo into his hand. 

Tentatively, Sakura lifted her good hand and held it in front of his face, testing him. She waved it once, then twice. Nothing. Not even a flicker of movement. Just the steadiness of someone committed to his word.

Emboldened by his stillness, she reached forward, fingertips brushing lightly against a stray strand of his hair that had fallen across his cheek. It was softer than she expected and the brief contact felt far more intimate than she was prepared for.

She flinched, however, when he spoke, her hand jerking back as if caught doing something forbidden. 

“Let me know if you want me to stop at any moment.”

Sakura swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and gave a small nod—only to realize a moment later that he couldn’t see her. 

His movements were uncertain and careful. She watched him hesitate, one hand hovering midair, missing her by inches as if trying to locate her hair but not wanting to overreach.

A faint, reluctant smile touched her lips. Then, heart pounding, she reached over her shoulder. Her fingers trembled slightly as they made contact with his hand. She felt the brief tension in his muscles, the way he flinched ever so subtly beneath her touch. But he didn’t move away. Slowly, Sakura guided his hand until it came to rest in the curtain of her damp locks.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Sakura nodded again, more of a reflex than anything, before catching herself and offering a soft grunt of acknowledgement instead.

There was a gentle tug as he began to work it in, coaxing shampoo through the strands with care she hadn’t expected. His fingertips moved slowly, methodically, tracing gentle circles across her scalp. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until her shoulders began to lower, the tightness in her back loosening with each pass of his hand. 

It wasn’t just the comfort of touch but the restraint in it. He was careful, always careful, never rushing, never overstepping. The shampoo lathered quickly under his fingertips, warm and fragrant as it reached the roots of her hair. Sakura didn’t realize she had closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh until she heard Itachi’s soft chuckle. 

“It’s not good to sleep in the bath, Sakura-san.”

“I wasn’t!” she lied, her voice high and defensive, her face burning with embarrassment.

Itachi let out a soft hum that sounded almost teasingly unconvinced. 

“Lean your head back a little,” he instructed, his tone returning to that calm, steady rhythm she’d come to associate with him.

Sakura obeyed, tipping her head back slightly until she felt the secure weight of his hand at the nape of her neck, supporting her head. His fingers were warm against her damp skin, and she tried to ignore the way her breath hitched at the touch. She felt the faint movement as he reached forward with his other hand, blindly searching the tiled wall until he found the faucet handle and the detachable showerhead. 

The water sputtered at first, then flowed in a smooth stream. He adjusted the temperature before directing it gently over her scalp, letting it cascade through her hair in slow waves. The shampoo quickly rinsed away, the scent lingering even as the lather vanished, replaced by the faint, mineral smell of clean water. It was amazing the things Itachi could do so flawlessly without being able to see. 

When her hair no longer felt slick beneath his fingers, he shut off the water with a quiet twist of the handle. The sudden hush left only the sound of droplets hitting the water’s surface and her own slowed breathing.

Gently he squeezed the excess water from her hair. Then he reached for a fresh towel, folding it over her head and wrapping her hair into a soft, secure twist atop her crown. Somehow, he even managed to balance it.

Sakura sat still, blinking as he withdrew his hands.

Behind her, she heard the soft rustle of cloth as Itachi stood. “Come out when you’re done, but be careful with any glass fragment on the floor I didn’t catch,” he said, his voice as steady as ever. “You can hang your clothes to dry on the towel rack.”

With that, Itachi began to leave, tracing his hand on the bathroom wall to feel his way out. Sakura turned just enough to see Itachi out of the corner of her eye. He walked slowly and carefully; the towel remained tied securely around his eyes until the door clicked shut behind him. 

Only then did she release the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her chest rose and fell with a sigh of relief, though her heart still beat a fast, chaotic rhythm inside her ribcage. The thought of how she was going to explain this to Sasuke flickered into her mind, but she quickly pushed the thought aside for later. 

Not wanting to hog the bathroom any longer, Sakura took a deep breath and let out a long exhale. She steeled herself before getting out of the tub to dry herself and get dressed.

Chapter Text

When Sakura eased the bathroom door open and peeked out, a gentle warmth drifted through the air, earthy and calming. Itachi was in the kitchen, silently brewing tea. Steam curled upward, ghosting around his face, which bore a rare expression—serene, almost fragile in its stillness. Even in his usual calm, there was often a gravity in his eyes and tonight, that weight had only deepened.

Something was troubling him, but as always, Itachi held it close, cloaked beneath practiced restraint. And, as always, she let it go—at least for now.

The soft click of the door caught his attention and he turned. The familiar heaviness in his gaze returned.

“What’s wrong?”

Sakura hesitated, her fingers tightening on the doorframe as heat rose to her cheeks and embarrassment prickled under her skin. “Do you… have another pair of pants?”

Itachi paused, his hands stilling mid-motion as he quickly caught on to what the issue was. He shook his head. “That’s the smallest pair I have,” he said, his voice a little rueful.

Sakura hadn’t expected much else, but it was still a surprise to find the fabric slipping right off her hips, even after cinching the drawstring as tightly as she could. The oversized clothes left her feeling just a little more exposed, like a stranger trying to fit into something that was never made for her.

Slowly, Sakura stepped out of the bathroom, one bare foot hesitantly crossing the threshold before the rest of her followed. Itachi turned toward her fully, and for a moment, his breath caught.

She had on a shirt two sizes too big for her, its hem brushing the top of her knees. Her arms were crossed tightly around her waist, clutching the pair of pants she hadn’t been able to keep on, as if the bundle offered some modesty. A quiet pleasure flickered at the edge of his composure at the sight of her in his clothes. But he stifled it just as quickly, the intimacy of the thought catching him off guard.

His sharp eyes also didn’t miss the faint, darkened patches blooming on the oversized shirt, ghostly shapes traced by the damp underclothing she still wore beneath. A flush of warmth bloomed at the back of Itachi’s neck, and he immediately turned away, wordlessly shrugging off his cardigan.

“Maybe this will help,” he said quietly, extending it toward her without meeting her gaze.

Gratefully, Sakura stepped forward, exchanging the bunched-up pants for the cardigan. She slipped into it gingerly, careful not to aggravate her injured wrist, and began buttoning it up. The fabric was still warm from his body heat, soft and slightly oversized. It hung lower than the shirt had, offering more coverage and, with it, a fragile sense of dignity. Though she was still without proper pants, it was enough for now.

When she finally looked up again, Itachi was balancing a small lacquered tray in his hands. A delicate teapot and two porcelain cups rested on it, wisps of steam curling into the air like breath.

Sakura instinctively stepped forward, reaching as if to take it from him. But he gave a subtle shake of his head, eyes flicking briefly to hers before glancing toward the living room behind her.

Wordlessly, she obeyed, turning to settle onto his couch. The cushions were firmer than she expected but warm from the room’s residual heat and smelled faintly of tea leaves and old books. Her hands were clasped together tightly on her lap to keep them from fidgeting.

Itachi followed moments later, setting one porcelain cup carefully in front of her and the other beside his own seat before settling down a measured distance away—not too close, but not far enough to feel distant.

“Thank you,” Sakura murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she curled her fingers around the warm cup. The subtle heat seeped into her palms, grounding her.

Itachi’s gaze lingered on her as he regarded her for a moment.

“Your hair is still wet,” he observed, his tone mild but unmistakably concerned.

Sakura’s hand moved instinctively to her hair, her fingers threading through damp, tangled strands. A drop of water slipped down the side of her neck, sending a shiver along her spine.

“It’s still damp,” she admitted, tucking a few stray locks behind her ear. “But it should dry soon.”

Sakura wasn’t sure why Itachi suddenly wore that faintly disapproving look, the subtle crease between his brows suggesting she’d somehow given the wrong answer. Before she could ask, he stood without a word.

She paused, her cup halfway to her lips, then slowly lowered it back onto the table so as not to appear rude. She watched in silence as he crossed the room, rooted in place more by curiosity than anything else.

Sakura didn’t know why she was surprised Itachi returned to plug in his hairdryer. Maybe it was because she’d grown so used to Naruto shaking water from his hair like a dog or Sasuke letting it drip freely down the towel around his neck, utterly indifferent. But it made sense given that not only did Itachi keep his hair long, but not a strand ever seemed out of place. 

Without a word, Itachi stepped behind her, the quiet shuffle of his movements the only sound for a beat. Gently, he gathered her still-damp hair in his hands, lifting it with care. Sakura sat still beneath his touch, her breath held in quiet surrender as he switched on the dryer.

He moved with careful grace, never lingering too long in one place as the soft hum filled the space between them. The warm air swept in soothing waves across her scalp and down the back of her neck, chasing away the chill clinging to her skin. 

A sigh she hadn’t meant to release slipped quietly from her lips, carried off by the low hum of the dryer. It was in moments like this that she struggled to reconcile the man standing behind her with the Itachi Sasuke had described that night she’d learned the truth. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to catch a cold,” he said, his voice laced with mild reproach. He couldn’t understand why she’d walked through a storm to his apartment, stayed far too long in a cold bathroom instead of asking for help, and just now attempted to air-dry while still slightly shivering.

Sakura smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth tugging up. Itachi always seemed like the more distant and grounded one when Sasuke was around, but she’d come to realize he was just as much of a worrywart, perhaps even more so.

“That’s a myth, Itachi-san,” she replied. “You can’t catch a cold from wet hair.”

“I’m not taking any chances either way,” he murmured, continuing his slow, meticulous work.

Sakura let her eyes drift shut for a moment, surrendering to the soft whirring of the dryer and the gentle rustling of fabric whenever he shifted behind her.

She was surely taking advantage of his kindness, but it felt nice to be taken care of once in a while, to be pampered by Itachi in a way that felt so effortless it was almost disarming. Sakura wasn’t sure what exactly shifted within him to be so insistent yet attentive since she’d gotten here, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. If anything, she found herself wanting to selfishly sink into it, to savor the warmth of his care just a little longer, especially after the cold bite of the storm she’d trudged through only an hour earlier.

Eventually, the dryer clicked off, and the sudden silence felt deafening for a beat. In its place came the delicate sweep of his fingers, combing gently through the ends of her hair. They grazed the nape of her neck—barely there, but enough for goosebumps to prickle across her skin in the wake of that fleeting touch.

Once he set the dryer aside, Itachi returned to his seat beside her. It was only then that Sakura picked up her teacup and took a sip. The chamomile scent, the subtle sweet taste, and the heat of the liquid calmed her nerves. She let out a long, slow sigh and placed the cup back down on the table, the porcelain tapping lightly against the glass.

“Sakura-san.”

At the sound of her name, Sakura turned to find Itachi’s gaze focused on her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes, and Sakura realized with horror that the absence of the dryer’s hum had left her unguarded sigh of contentment fully exposed. Her cheeks flushed with sudden warmth, the thought of it making her feel impossibly shy.

But as her gaze dropped to his outstretched hand, she noticed the familiar box resting beside him.

“It’s better to treat it early,” he said, but then stopped; a small chuckle left his lips. “Well, I guess you already know that.”

The rejection was on the tip of her tongue, fear of burdening him further after everything he had already done for her. But as she met his expectant gaze, the words she’d meant to speak once again faded before they could leave her lips. 

Obediently, Sakura placed her wrist in Itachi’s hand, her movements hesitant but trusting. His fingers were warm as they gently wrapped around her skin. Sakura was starting to find that there was something in his voice that made resistance feel not only pointless but also unnecessary. It was as if his very presence softened the edges of her will. The thought should have alarmed her, stirred some instinct to pull away, but it didn’t. Instead, a strange calm settled over her.

Itachi worked in silence, his long fingers expertly wrapping the bandage around her wrist. His touch was almost reverent, as if her wound was something fragile he dared not worsen. Sakura’s eyes soften at the realization.

“You’re always so considerate,” she murmured, the words slipping out before she could think to hold them back.

Itachi didn’t respond immediately. In fact, he was silent for so long that unease began to bloom in her chest. Sakura glanced up at him, wondering if her comment had crossed some unseen line. Then, just as doubt began to gnaw at her, his voice broke the stillness, softer than before, like the hush of falling snow.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you show up at my door, Sakura-san.”

Misreading the tone in his voice, Sakura flushed as her heart lurched, and her words tumbled out in a rush. “I’m sorry—it was raining, and your apartment was close by. But I shouldn’t have—”

Itachi shook his head gently. “That’s not what I meant.”

Sakura fell quiet, watching him closely. He wasn’t meeting her gaze. His brows were drawn slightly, as if the words he was about to say were something hard for him to admit out loud. “Truthfully,” he began, slowly, almost hesitating. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

Sakura blinked, stunned. “Why wouldn’t you?” She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. There was no accusation in it, only pure, raw confusion tinged with the faintest thread of apprehension.

Itachi’s gaze dropped for a moment. “A normal person doesn’t exactly want any involvement with the yakuza,” he said quietly. “Especially after what my clan members did to you.”

Sakura’s heart squeezed. He wasn’t wrong. Everything she had been dragged into had all stemmed from that world he was bound to. But even amidst it all, Itachi had never been a source of fear for her. If anything, his presence had always brought clarity rather than chaos. He had lied, yes, but never to hurt her. 

Even if her trust in him hadn’t fully recovered, it wasn’t entirely broken either. Every decision he had made up until now had been shaped by a need to protect her. In fact, he had sat across from her over dinner not long ago, as he promised her the incident with Izuna would never happen again. His gaze had been serious and painfully sincere.

Her wrist, still warm beneath the bandages he’d just tied, throbbed softly as if echoing the beat of her heart. She looked at him sitting so still, waiting, as though bracing for rejection.

She knew the wise thing would be to keep her distance. But the thought of cutting ties entirely settled in her chest like a stone. She knew she wasn’t ready. Maybe she never would be. 

Sakura swallowed, her voice small and uncertain. “Is it that bad if I do want to be involved with you just a little?”

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Itachi wasn’t sure why but Sakura’s answer stunned him. He knew the kind-hearted girl in front of him would try to reassure him, and he thought her words would anchor him somehow. But instead, they sparked something he didn’t want to name—frustration, guilt, something too close to fear. 

How could she think that after everything they’ve put her through? When he was selfishly using her to gain some sense of control in his life? Did she not see the cost of what she was saying? Did she not realize how deeply they had already pulled her in—how deeply he had pulled her in?

How could he make her understand that the boundary he often kept between them was a line he chose to hold? Because he could honor it, something he couldn’t say for certain for others. Not all of his clan would choose restraint. They were all part of the same clan, a clan he was born from, whether he wanted to be or not. 

“It is, Sakura-san,” he said at last, the words sharper than he’d intended.

As he adjusted the bandage on her wrist, his fingers tugged just a bit too tightly. The fabric pulled against her skin, biting in enough to make her wince. But he didn’t ease his grip. Instead, he held it there, as if hoping the sting might be a more effective warning than his words alone.

“You can’t trust any of the Kobu members,” he continued. “Not even me.”

Sakura’s eyes lifted to meet his, and for the first time, she saw it—the faintest crack in the mask he always wore. Beneath the composure and control was something uncertain. Itachi, who always seemed so sure, so immovable, looked lost—almost pleading—behind the anger in his eyes. As if she held an answer he couldn’t bring himself to ask for.

“You don’t believe that,” she said softly, not accusing but searching.

Itachi’s jaw tightened, the muscles there ticking with a quiet restraint. “Must I prove it to you, Sakura-san?” 

Before she could process the question, she felt the brush of his hand against hers. He trailed it slowly up from her bandaged wrist to her forearm before wrapping it around it and pulling her toward him. She sucked in a breath. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up and she leaned back instinctively, pressing herself against the couch as if trying to preserve the last fragile thread of space between them.

“Prove?” She echoed, barely above a whisper. Her thoughts scattered at the proximity. This was the closest she had ever been to him—his presence filling her senses. His hand was firm around her arm but he didn’t move closer; he didn’t have to. Her heart was pounding hard against her ribs, but she couldn’t tell if it was warning or want.

“When a lone girl enters a man’s home, unable to leave on her own. it’s not unreasonable to assume he may have ulterior motives for helping her.” His voice was calm but heavy with implication. “Do you still trust me not to harm you, Sakura-san?”

The question hovered between them. And for a long, suspended moment, she did nothing but search his eyes. They were dark pools so still that they rarely gave anything away, but now they shimmered with something raw, reflecting someone who knew how dangerous he could be and hated that it mattered.

Outside, lightning split the sky, a sudden flash casting stark light across his face. And in that instant, she understood what Sasuke meant when he spoke of his brother with reverence and fear. Because in that flash of light, Itachi didn’t look like the man who had dried her hair and bandaged her wrist. He looked like the man who had endured too much and still carried it all with silent grace.

His grip on her tightened imperceptibly, but it didn’t feel like he was restraining her. It felt like he was holding on. Like she was the only thing anchoring him in that moment. It was admittedly a ridiculous thought, maybe even a dangerous one, given the way he had betrayed her before. He had lied to her, and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. And yet she couldn’t deny that, deep down, there was still that small, stubborn part of her that still trusted him.

“I do,” she said at last, her voice clear despite the quiet tremor running through her chest.

Itachi didn’t move at first, his hand lingering where it had come to rest just above her elbow. Then, slowly, he withdrew. Not abruptly, but with the quiet finality of someone conceding something—perhaps more to himself than to her.

He leaned back slightly, placing a small but noticeable distance between them, as if to reaffirm a line he no longer wished to test. Silently, he settled back into his seat beside her on the couch. His gaze drifted away from hers, no longer able to meet it.

“I can’t guarantee that you won’t be tangled up in Kobu’s affairs,” he said, the words landing with a weight that seemed to drain the strength from his voice. 

His admission hung in the space between them, heavy and unguarded. Itachi rarely allowed such honesty to slip through the cracks of his composure, but with Sakura, the boundaries he so carefully maintained always seemed to fray. 

She had shown up on his doorstep uninvited tonight, seeking help, and he had let her in. Not just into his home, but into the private architecture of his life—his habits, his silence, his plans. She was a presence that he was not prepared for. But if he was honest, when had he ever been prepared for anything regarding Sakura? 

To keep interacting with her was not only to introduce a distraction in his plan but possibly to involve her as a moving game piece, a piece that would grant him a tremendous edge. Logic told him he couldn’t guarantee her safety and well-being that way, which was all he wanted for her, but at the same time, he didn’t think it was possible for him to not be involved with her anymore. 

It had all started as fun and games—nothing more than a calculated move on the chessboard when he first discovered Sasuke’s connection to her. He was just teasing, provoking, tugging at a thread he thought inconsequential. He never expected to be the one unraveling. How ironic that the player was now the one being played.

He didn’t even know when the little gestures he did to annoy Sasuke had become a moment that he genuinely enjoyed with her. When his heartbeat started to quicken in quiet satisfaction every time she accepted his offerings a little too easily, as if she already trusted him more than she should. But he couldn’t let it go any further than this, at least not outwardly, not in action. He had too much to lose and she was far too skilled at making him forget what was at stake.

If he continued to keep her close, the day would come when his clan would get their claws into her. Corrupt her. And when that happened, Itachi wasn’t sure if he’d be capable of dragging her back out. Because deep down, in some selfish, twisted part of him, he wanted her to be pulled in. Because then, she would belong to the same world he did. Or so he thought, until her next words stopped him on his track

“I know I told Izuna I don’t want to be involved,” she said, her voice low but unshakably sincere. “But if you ask me to… I’ll do what I can.”

Itachi froze. She didn’t beg or promise anything grand. But her words seemed to have cracked through the control he clung to like armor.

He had imagined this moment before, imagined what it might feel like to have her loyalty, to have her choose him willingly.

But now that the moment was here, it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like a wound.

Would he really ask her to be a piece in the same game he’d refused to let Sasuke play? Could he justify pulling her into the dark just because she offered, just because he wanted to keep her close? 

He looked at her then, really looked at the calm in her eyes, the tremble she tried to hide in her shoulders, and the way her hands curled in her lap, bracing herself. She was terrified. And yet she meant it.

“Do you even know what you’re saying?” Itachi asked, his voice lower now, almost hoarse. He met her gaze finally, unable to look away from its quiet resolve. She would help him for him. And that was the unbearable part. Because if he let himself reach for that, if he took her offer, he knew he wouldn’t be able to let go. 

“Are you not scared of getting hurt?”

Sakura straightened, visibly gathering her courage. “If the result is that you and Sasuke-kun are happy,” she said, “then it’s worth it.”

Then, with a softness that unraveled him more than anything else, she added, “Besides, I know you won’t let anything happen to me.”

It was that certainty, so simple, that cracked something open inside him. For all his cold calculations, for all his carefully structured detachment, her words found the softest part of him. The part that still hoped, no, proved, that beneath all the schemes, he was still not the villain he kept pretending to be.

Because no matter how many masks he wore, no matter how deeply he tried to bury his own innocence beneath layers of necessity, Itachi had never truly wanted to be the villain, especially not in her eyes.

Itachi was silent for a long moment, his eyes lingering on the curve of her shoulder, the softness in her posture despite all the hardness she’d had to carry lately. 

“You’re putting too much trust in me too easily,” he repeated, but this time the words were threadbare. It was less a warning and more like a lingering ghost of a conviction he no longer fully believed.

“You’re probably right. Like you always are.” Sakura replied with a soft laugh. She looked down at her bandaged hand, fingers flexing slightly, her voice almost wistful. “But I still can’t help the way I feel.”

Itachi let out a breath—half exasperation, half reluctant acceptance. He shook his head slowly, not at her, but at himself, at the hypocrisy tangled in every move he made.

Wasn’t he the one who had told Sasuke that trying to protect someone from their own choices was its own kind of arrogance? That denying them the right to risk, to hurt, to decide, was not love, but control?

And yet, here he was, doing the very thing he had condemned, making the decisions for her.  From the moment he opened that door and let her in, he had taken ownership of the outcome and tried to manage her place in it, like a piece on his board. Perhaps he thought it would give him some sliver of control that had been slipping through his fingers, like he thought she was. 

If she truly believed there was something good in him, then he couldn’t allow that belief to go unanswered. If she chose to trust him, not out of ignorance but despite everything she knew, and still offered to stake herself on his and Sasuke’s behalf, then he had to become someone deserving of that faith she so freely gave.

Slowly, but finally with clarity after the longest time, he nodded. “Thank you, but that’s one thing I can’t ask of you, Sakura-san.”

“But—” she started, leaning forward instinctively, ready to protest. But with a firm shake of his head, he cut her short.

He knew it was still hypocritical, choosing for her when he was the one who once said people deserved their own agency. But this was the one line he would not cross. It was one thing for her to be dragged into his clan’s affairs by accident, it was something else entirely to use her, to place her deliberately in harm’s way for the sake of his plan. He won’t do it even if she gives him permission, even if she begs him to.

He looked up slightly, just enough for her to notice the subtle shift in his posture. When he spoke again, his voice was low and gentle, but heavy with sincerity.

“I don’t think I’ve properly apologized to you yet, Sakura-san.”

She tilted her head, her brows drawing together softly. “For what?”

He exhaled slowly, as if each breath pulled something buried from deep within him.

“For scaring you,” he said quietly. “For dragging you into all of this. And for Izuna’s recklessness. None of it was fair to you.”

Sakura’s expression softened.

“I don’t think that’s yours to carry alone, Itachi-san,” Sakura replied. “I involved myself the moment I chose to stay by Sasuke-kun’s side. When I met with Madara. When I came here. Those were my decisions.”

She held his gaze, unflinching, as if daring him to argue.

“You didn’t make those choices for me,” she went on. “They were mine. And I don’t regret any of them.”

She paused, her smile faltering. “Well… maybe not the second one.”

Itachi turned to her then, the faintest curve pulling at his lips. The soft chuckle that slipped out caused her heart to skip a beat, her own smile widening at the warmth in his expression. There was something disarming about it. For the first time since she had arrived, he didn’t seem weighed down by strategy or guilt. He seemed lighter, like the calm, decisive Itachi she had come to know.

It was ironic, really, that her willingness was what had cemented his decision to shield her away from all of this. But if that meant staying away from her more than before, then so be it. He would bear that. He had borne worse. But right now, when she was still here in front of him, still willing to believe in him despite everything, he allowed himself this small indulgence for just a little bit longer. 

Itachi turned toward the window, where the storm still rumbled in the distance. Though the worst of it had passed, rain continued to trace lazy paths down the glass in soft, steady streaks. He could barely see anything beyond the dark sky outside, but it felt as though the clouds had finally begun to clear inside his mind. For the first time in years, a quiet clarity and certainty settled over him.

“It seems we’re both stuck here until morning,” he said absentmindedly, a faint trace of amusement curling through his voice as he glanced back at her.

“I hope you’ll still stand by your words about not regretting coming here, Sakura-san.”

Gently, he reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with a careful, deliberate touch. His fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary against the curve of her cheek. 

Her breath caught, sharp and unguarded, the kind of reaction she couldn’t fake even if she wanted to.

That subtle intake of air, that small betrayal of composure, seemed to widen his smile. It wasn’t arrogant, but there was a quiet confidence in it, like a man who had just confirmed something he hadn’t dared to hope for.

“I have a great idea for how we can pass the time,” he said, his tone almost playful.

Sakura’s pulse fluttered. The warmth in the room suddenly felt more pronounced, sinking beneath her skin. What else could they do, alone in an apartment while the storm still murmured against the windows?

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

The moment the emergency alert was lifted, Sasuke bolted from his apartment like a tightly wound spring finally released. Hours of restless pacing had worn a path into his floor, his mind a storm of worry that matched the one raging outside. The wind still howled through the streets, rain slashing sideways, but Sasuke didn’t care. He didn’t wait for the train. He didn’t even pause to grab an umbrella. Shrugging on his raincoat, he plunged into the storm, feet pounding against the slick pavement as cold water soaked through his shoes.

By the time he reached Itachi’s building, his hair was plastered to his forehead and his breath came in sharp, frantic bursts. The elevator ride felt agonizingly slow. As soon as the doors opened, he shot down the hallway and pounded on the apartment door with a force driven by fear.

When the door creaked open, Sasuke braced himself to see Itachi, only to find Sakura standing there. She blinked at him with wide, puffy eyes. Her cheeks were blotchy, her nose red from crying, and thick tear streaks stained her skin. One of her wrists was wrapped in a gauze bandage. She was wearing one of Itachi’s old shirts and cardigans, cotton that hung off her frame.

Her lips trembled. “Sasuke-kun?” She said softly, confusion and worry threading through her voice. “What are you doing here?”

Something snapped in him at the sight and the worst scenario played in his mind unbidden. Knowing his brother for all of his life, Sasuke was aware of all of his brother’s darker attributes. Sasuke had felt a twinge of unease the moment Itachi’s text came through to let him know that Sakura was at his apartment, but never did he think Itachi was capable of hurting Sakura so.

And yet, Sakura’s condition painted a picture too vivid to ignore. It wasn’t just that she was hurt, but it was fresh, recent. Something unforgivable had happened; it had happened here, and it had happened with his brother.

“Sakura, go wait outside,” Sasuke said, his voice tight and trembling with barely restrained fury. “I need to talk to my brother.”

Her brows furrowed, panic lighting her face. “Wait! What—”

Sasuke pushed the door open all the way, stepping in with force. Rainwater dripped from his soaked coat, splashing onto the wooden floor in messy droplets with his sudden movements. His shoes squelched as he stepped further inside, shoulders rigid, breath shallow and sharp.

Itachi stood in the kitchen, the blade of a kitchen knife flashing in the low light as he sliced into a pale apple. He looked up, his face calm at first until his eyes settled on his brother.

“Sasuke, how did you—?”

“You bastard.”

Sasuke lunged, fists gripping the collar of his brother’s shirt in a white-knuckled grip. He shoved him hard, forcing him back until his spine slammed against the wall with a dull thud that echoed through the apartment.

Itachi’s eyes widened, just barely. His gaze swept over Sasuke, studying him like a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

“What seems to be the problem, little brother?” Itachi asked, his voice cool but edged with caution. 

He expected Sasuke to be agitated when he had texted him earlier of Sakura’s whereabouts and well-being, but even then, this reaction felt too personal and dangerously close to something unhinged. 

The sight caused a flicker of unease in Itachi. Sasuke didn’t seem to realize it yet, but this ferocity and sharp instinct to protect was precisely what their father had tried to cultivate through years of training and discipline. Even in his absence, their father’s influence lingered like an inescapable shadow.

Father would be proud, Itachi thought grimly. If only that loyalty had belonged to him instead of...

Sakura rushed forward, grabbing Sasuke’s arm and trying to wedge herself between the brothers. Her voice rang out, high and sharp with panic.

“Sasuke-kun! Stop—Itachi-san’s holding a knife. This is dangerous!”

Despite the rage within him, despite the desperate urge to demand why Sakura was still protecting his brother after what Itachi had done to her, Sasuke’s grip on Itachi loosened. His knuckles, white from tension, slowly relaxed as he allowed Sakura to step between them, her hands pushing gently at his chest.

Itachi must have manipulated her somehow, he reasoned. He’d seen his brother twist people’s perceptions before, weaving lies with cold precision. It wouldn’t be beneath him. But even as the thought flickered through his mind, it faltered against the sight of her worried face. He couldn’t let his anger control him and cloud his judgment. Sakura was injured and hurt. His first priority was to get Sakura out of here instead of trying to make his brother pay. 

Itachi, meanwhile, observed them both silently. He recognized the rawness in his brother’s eyes—the protectiveness, the confusion, the betrayal. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips, one of weary acknowledgment, as he finally pieced together what had provoked Sasuke’s outburst. The sound didn’t escape his little brother.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Sasuke snapped, fury flaring again in his voice.

Itachi regarded his brother in silence. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who saw himself as the villain.

“I didn’t realize you had such a low opinion of me, little brother,” Itachi replied evenly, smoothing down the front of his wrinkled shirt, his tone laced with something between hurt and resignation.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” Sasuke shot back, his tone icy cold.

Itachi didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned his gaze to Sakura. Her wide eyes met his, a silent plea etched into her features. And in that moment, the echoes of their earlier conversation returned to him, her words giving him reassurance and bolstering his confidence. Whatever happened, he knew she would see him for what he tried to be, not just what he had been.

“Sakura-san,” he said, his voice softer now, but firm.

“Y-Yes?” Sakura asked, startled. She hadn’t expected Itachi to address her, not with Sasuke burning holes into him with his glare. But before she could say anything more, Sasuke grabbed her shoulders and moved her behind him in a protective sweep.

“Don’t talk to her,” Sasuke warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Defiantly, Itachi’s gaze remained fixed on Sakura. “Can you recall what I’ve done since you arrived?”

Sakura, still slow to grasp what Itachi was getting at, answered in a hesitant voice. “Um… you told me to take a shower,” she said cautiously, her words uncertain. As the memory resurfaced, heat bloomed across her cheeks, a flush that didn’t escape Sasuke’s scrutinizing gaze. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the gesture deepening his scowl.

Something did happen.

“You lent me your clothes,” she continued, her fingers subconsciously tugging at the cardigan. “You blow-dried my hair and treated my wrist.”

“And what were we doing just before Sasuke arrived?” Itachi prompted.

Sakura glanced at the TV. “We were watching a movie.”

That was when Sasuke finally registered the sound coming from the TV—two actors in the middle of a dramatic breakup scene. Their voices swelled with sorrow, echoing faintly in the room. Slowly, the tear streaks on Sakura’s cheeks began to make more sense. And now he really looked at her. Her eyes were glassy but not broken, her expression calm beneath the lingering flush. She didn’t look particularly sad.

The realization hit him like cold water as his anger began to ebb, the storm inside him starting to lose its grip as the pieces fell into place.

Itachi’s dry chuckle snapped Sasuke’s attention back.

“You’re dripping rainwater all over my wooden floor,” Itachi said, gaze flicking to the puddle forming beneath Sasuke’s shoes.

Sasuke shot his brother one last glare but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he turned sharply toward the door. “I’m about to leave.”

“What?” Sakura gasped, grabbing his arm to stop him. “You can’t be out there in this weather!”

She blinked up at him, drenched in worry now. “Wait—how did you even get here? I thought the trains stopped?”

Sasuke hesitated, his jaw tightening for just a moment. But the concern in her eyes left him with no room for evasion.

“I ran here,” he admitted quietly, his tone edged with guilt, but not for the reckless decision itself, but for getting caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t have. 

“You ran?!” Sakura’s voice rose, both angry and disbelieving. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!”

Sasuke scoffed defiantly and looked away. She was one to talk after choosing to come here of all places for shelter. But he didn’t say it out loud. 

“I’m fine, aren’t I?”

“Stop it!” Sakura snapped, her voice cracking under the strain. Though the emergency alert had passed, the rain still pounded against the windows, and the wind howled like it hadn’t gotten the memo. She couldn’t even begin to understand how Sasuke had made it here in that storm, let alone why he thought it was okay to go back out in it. 

“What if something happened to you?” She demanded, the fear in her voice unmistakable. Her fingers curled tighter around his arm, as if she could anchor him in place.

Sasuke wanted to ask her the same question, but instead he bit his tongue and looked away, unable to look at the concern in her gaze. He had never really seen these kinds of things as a big deal. To him, they were just minor risks, things he could handle. But perhaps what he saw as manageable, others saw as dangerous, especially people who cared.

“Sorry,” he muttered, the word stiff and clumsy on his tongue. “I won’t do it again.”

His eyes flicked toward his brother, who was still watching them with an infuriatingly knowing smile. The awareness made his cheeks burn, and he shifted awkwardly. Apologizing was hard enough without Itachi as an audience.

He couldn’t leave now, not if it meant leaving Sakura alone with Itachi again or dragging her out into the storm. The decision was simple. And by the way his brother’s lips curved ever so slightly, Sasuke could tell Itachi already knew what he’d decided. That smug, knowing smile made his blood simmer.

“Perhaps you should take a bath,” Itachi suggested, voice threaded with faint amusement.

With no real argument left in him, Sasuke muttered, “Fine,” the word heavy with reluctant irritation.

It was only then that Sakura let go of him. As he turned to leave, movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Itachi had reached out, gently taking Sakura’s hand to guide her around the puddle of rainwater Sasuke had tracked in.

“Be careful, Sakura-san,” Itachi said calmly. “I’m going to mop it up.”

Sasuke bristled. The urge to snap at his brother for being so casually familiar with Sakura burned in his chest, hot and irrational. The way Sakura was looking at his brother, like he was someone she could fully trust and depend on, made it infinitely worse. But he knew saying something would only make him look petty and childish. So instead, he clenched his teeth and turned away, stomping toward the bathroom, each heavy footfall its own quiet protest.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, dressed in the spare clothes Itachi had given him. Despite dousing himself with cold water, the agitation still clung to him like humidity after rain, thick and stubborn. 

The coffee table in the living room had been pushed aside to make room for the blanket and pillows spread across the floor, a makeshift bed Itachi had set up. His brother and his roommate were still seated on the couch, far too close for his liking. Sakura sat with her knees pulled tightly to her chest; her shoulder nearly brushed against Itachi’s. The soft flicker of the TV danced across both their faces as the couple on screen finally reconciled, tangled in each other’s arms, to whisper forgiveness through a final kiss.

Their proximity drew a fresh spike of irritation in Sasuke’s chest. He cleared his throat loudly, catching both of their attention. 

Sakura turned toward him. Her eyes were glassy again. “Sasuke-kun, you came just in time for the ending,” she said, her voice wavering at the edges of a sob but carrying a quiet satisfaction, the kind that only came with a happy ending.

Despite being aware of Sakura’s tendency to cry at pretty much anything, the sight of her glistening eyes still sent a sharp, involuntary twist through his gut. Sasuke had the sudden urge to pull her to him, but under Itachi’s ever-watchful gaze, he locked his jaw and forced his emotions behind a wall of practiced indifference.

“The bathroom’s free,” he said to her, his voice clipped, the stiffness in it betraying more than he meant to show. “You should go wash up.”

Promptly, Itachi lifted his hand to check the time on his watch.

“I didn’t realize it’s so late already,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his gaze drifted back to Sakura, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Time really does fly when you’re having fun.”

Sakura let out a soft laugh and nodded, though she was clearly still caught in the emotional undercurrents of the movie they had just finished. 

Itachi’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer before slowly shifting to Sasuke, catching every flicker of discomfort with quiet amusement. Satisfied with the subtle reaction from both of them, he folded his arms in front of him with the air of someone who’d finished a well-executed game of shogi.

“I keep the new toothbrushes behind the mirror,” he said, his voice as calm as ever as he turned to Sakura again.

Sakura wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, her touch delicate and a little shaky. She sniffled once before managing a quiet, “Thank you.”

“You should probably leave one here for future use,” Itachi replied nonchalantly, but Sasuke knew his brother’s intention was anything but. 

“Nii-san…” Sasuke’s voice dropped into a warning tone, but Itachi responded with only a maddeningly innocent smile.

Sakura blinked, still too occupied to follow the conversation. “Is that ok?” She asked, genuinely uncertain as her eyes flickered between the two brothers. 

“It’s not; you won’t be needing it in the future,” Sasuke said sharply, the irritation bleeding into his tone before he could stop it. “Don’t entertain him, Sakura.” 

“Oh—right! Sorry,” she said quickly, fiddling with the hem of the cardigan, her embarrassment still clinging to her like static.

Sasuke shot his brother a sharp glare, one that Itachi, infuriatingly, didn’t even pretend to acknowledge. Huffing, Sasuke turned and followed Sakura toward the bathroom.

The light in the small room was soft and warm, casting golden halos against the steam-slicked mirror. Their wet clothes, still dripping faintly, hung side by side near the door.

Sasuke, already familiar with where Itachi kept his things, reached toward the cabinet behind the mirror and pulled out the toothpaste. Without a word, he squeezed a neat line onto his own toothbrush and then did the same for Sakura’s. She gave him a gracious smile in return. 

Despite having lived together for several months now, this was the first time they’d brushed their teeth together. And yet, it felt strangely natural, as if they’d been doing this since the very first day they’d met.

They stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, their reflections moving in tandem. Sakura, brushing with her non-dominant hand, moved in jerky, awkward motions. Sasuke had decided to say nothing at first, but after a long moment, his curiosity finally won out.

“What happened to your wrist?”

Sakura paused, then spoke around a mouthful of foam. “I sprained it on the train earlier. Tried to break my fall.”

Sasuke turned toward her, his brow furrowing. “You fell on the train?”

“It was my fault,” she admitted. “I wasn’t holding on properly when it stopped abruptly.”

Sasuke exhaled through his nose, not quite a sigh but close. He didn’t say anything right away. He knew lecturing her wouldn’t help. Things like this happened, even to the most careful. Still, the thought of her hurt and alone on a crowded train, jolting through the storm, made something cold and sharp twist in his chest. Knowing she’d spent hours afterward alone with Itachi made the feeling worse.

Sasuke rinsed his mouth, the cool water briefly clearing the tightness in his throat, then grabbed his towel and wiped his face clean. 

“You had it treated?” He asked, though the bandages around her wrist already answered the question for him.

Sakura nodded, raising her injured hand to look at it. “Itachi did it for me.”

Sasuke fought the urge to roll his eyes. Such was the curse of having a brother who was perfect at everything. But what really needled at him wasn’t the fact that Itachi had treated her wrist. It was the faint, involuntary blush that crept across Sakura’s cheeks every time she mentioned receiving Itachi’s help.

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. “Was that all?” He asked, watching her carefully.

Sakura blinked, caught off guard. “Was what all?”

“Did something else happen between you and my brother?”

She flinched, ever so slightly, and shook her head. She wasn’t ready to delve into whatever it was that had occurred between her and Itachi in the bathroom, at least not so soon.

“Nothing happened.” The words left her too fast, too stiff. She tried to summon nonchalance, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her.

To escape the weight of his stare, she bent over the sink to rinse her mouth and splashed water onto her face, as if that could cool the heat rising in her cheeks or wash away the awkwardness entirely.

“Sakura.” Sasuke’s voice was lower now, unimpressed. When she didn’t respond, still hunched over the sink with her hands pressed to her face, he added dryly, “Don’t drown yourself there.”

Realizing how suspicious she was acting, Sakura turned off the water and grabbed her own towel. “I wasn’t,” she mumbled, pressing it against her face, as if she could disappear into the fabric entirely.

When she moved to exit the bathroom, Sasuke sidestepped, deliberately placing himself in her path. Sakura halted mid-step, her breath catching in her throat. Most of her face remained hidden behind the towel clutched to her cheeks, but Sasuke didn’t need to see all of her to read the tension in her shoulders and the flicker of panic in her eyes.

“Sakura,” he said, voice calm but tight, arms folding across his chest. “What did Itachi do?”

Sakura shook her head, as if that alone could shake away the conversation. But the silence between them was heavy, expectant.

Then, finally, in a quiet voice, she murmured, “You have to promise not to be upset.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “I don’t get upset without a good reason.”

Despite not getting the promise she’d asked for, the weight of Sasuke’s gaze pressed down on her like a vice. She felt as though if she didn’t speak now, his suspicion would only grow, twisting the truth into something worse than it was.

So she drew in a breath, steadying herself. Her fingers tightened on the towel.

“He helped me,” she said finally.

Sasuke didn’t move, didn’t blink. “Because you sprained your wrist, you already told me that,” He replied without missing a beat, his tone impatient. “What else did he do?”

After another beat of silence, Sakura spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He… helped me wash my hair.” 

The words dropped like a stone between them.

Sasuke reeled. “He did what?! ” He barked, eyes wide, voice loud enough to rattle the mirror. “While you were in the bath?!”

Suddenly, Sasuke turned, the movement sharp with fury and disbelief, already halfway to storming out when Sakura quickly lunged forward and grabbed his arm, wrapping her good hand around it in a desperate attempt to stop him.

“His eyes were covered and I had my back to him!” Sakura blurted out, her words tumbling over each other. “He didn’t see anything!”

“I’m going to gouge his eyes out.”

“You promised not to be mad!” She cried, tugging at his arm.

“I promised no such thing!” He snapped.

“Will you please just calm down and listen?” She pleaded, gripping his arm tighter as he tried to move past her.

“How can you just trust him to do that for you?” Sasuke spun around, eyes blazing. “What if he tried something?”

“But he didn’t! He wouldn’t!”

“How can you be so sure?” Sasuke challenged.

“Because he’s your brother, Sasuke-kun!” She fired back, eyes wide, voice trembling with frustration. “Do you not trust him?”

“I don’t!” Sasuke barked, the word tearing out of him like something he’d been holding in too long.

Sakura flinched, stunned by his words. Her lips parted, but no sound came. She could only stare at him, eyes flicking over his face. He had shared with her the night she found out about his connection to the yakuza, but she didn’t realize his distrust ran so deep it swallowed even Itachi. If Itachi wasn’t an exception, then where did that leave her?

Sasuke’s chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths, fury cooling into something rawer. 

“How can I trust him—” his voice was quieter now, but not softer. It rasped like it scraped past something in his throat as Sakura’s panic mounted. “When he goes and does shit like that with you, knowing damn well that I li—”

“Then can you trust me?” Sakura cut in, the words breaking free just before his could land. Her voice wavered; the fear and hurt beneath it struck him with startling clarity, like cold water on burning skin.

“Do you trust me,” she repeated, firmer this time despite the tremble still clinging to her lips, “when I say that nothing happened?”

Sakura waited anxiously for his answer; her heart pounded so loud it felt deafening. She could see the subtle clench of his jaw, the flicker of conflict behind his eyes, and the way his hands curled and uncurled at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Then finally, his voice came—lower, calmer, but still taut with tension.

“You said nothing happened.” 

Sakura nodded quickly, desperate to reassure him.

“And you’re okay?” He asked, quieter still, but there was a hint of concern beneath it, maybe even guilt.

She nodded again, more gently now. “I’m okay.”

Sasuke fell silent again, his gaze fixed on her like he was trying to look for even the faintest crack in her truth. But there was nothing but Sakura, open and unguarded.

He let out a long breath, the kind that sounded like it had been trapped in his chest for hours. Some of the tightness in his shoulders uncoiled, but not completely. His eyes dropped, not in doubt, but in quiet retreat, as if ashamed of how close he’d come to losing himself again.

“Okay,” he said at last.

When he turned to leave again, Sakura reached out, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. The gentle pull halted him in his tracks.

“Sasuke-kun.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” he said, though his voice was tight, barely leashed. “If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened.” A pause. As long as you’re okay. “We’re just going to have a talk.”

“You said that when you first got here,” Sakura reminded him quietly.

She hadn’t forgotten the way Sasuke had grabbed Itachi’s collar the moment he stepped through the door or how their voices had risen outside the café near their apartment. She didn’t trust that just talking meant what he claimed it did.

“We’re just talking,” Sasuke insisted. This time, he didn’t look away like he had at the door. His eyes met hers head-on. It wasn’t quite reassurance, but it was something close; it was a silent request for her trust. “I just need some space to talk to him tonight. Alone.”

The knot in her stomach tightened. But after a moment of hesitation, Sakura gave a small nod. The doubt didn’t leave her but she let him go.

Sakura followed him out of the bathroom, her nerves taut like strings strung too tight. Sasuke moved ahead of her, silent but brimming with something volatile, like a storm waiting for the right pressure to break. Yet he moved with the resolve of someone who had made up his mind about what he intended to say or do.

In the living room, Itachi was crouched on the floor, adjusting the edges of a blanket. Pillows had been arranged beside it.

“What’s with all the yelling, you two?” He asked casually, without looking up. A quiet laugh followed, airy and unbothered. “I hope you’re not trying to earn me a noise complaint.”

Sakura cast a nervous glance at Sasuke. She didn’t need to see his face to feel the intensity radiating off of him like heat from a forge. But even then, Itachi remained unnervingly unfazed, as though the weight of his younger brother’s fury was something he’d long grown accustomed to.

Once satisfied with the makeshift bedding, Itachi clapped his hands together lightly, as if wrapping up some mundane chore. “Alright,” he said brightly, “should we figure out the sleeping arrangement? How about a game of jan-ken-pon?”

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. He didn’t even bother masking the venom in his stare now. He knew exactly what Itachi was doing, pretending as though none of this mattered when it clearly did, but he wasn’t going to take the bait. 

There were just too many variables if he left it up to chance. But if Sasuke outright said he’d be sleeping beside Sakura in Itachi’s home, his brother would no doubt raise an issue with that infuriatingly calm tone and thinly veiled amusement. And Sasuke wasn’t about to let Itachi anywhere near Sakura again, not after what he’d already tolerated. The safest option, no, the only tolerable one, was for the brothers to sleep beside each other. That way, Sasuke could keep an eye on his brother.

The problem was that arguing with Itachi was like trying to play shogi against someone who already knew the endgame. Every line of his logic would be intercepted and dismantled before it landed. Sasuke knew he couldn’t outreason Itachi, but he knew who could.

“Sakura.”

The girl, who had been standing stiffly, bracing herself for the clash between the brothers, startled at the sound of her name. “Y-yes?” She said, eyes wide as she looked at him.

“You’re sleeping in Itachi’s bedroom,” Sasuke said without hesitation, his tone final, almost like a command dressed up as a favor.

It took Sakura a few seconds to register what he’d said. Her gaze flickered between the brothers. She could sense there was a quiet conversation happening, though she was not privy to its content. Unsure what she should do or even what side to take, she gave a slow nod. “…Sure, if you two are alright with that.”

“Don’t be so bossy, Sasuke,” Itachi interjected smoothly, still lounging near the makeshift bedding he’d just arranged. “Shouldn’t you at least let Sakura-san choose?”

Sasuke scoffed at his brother. Whether Itachi was losing his edge or taking pity on him, Sasuke wasn’t about to let the opening slip.

Sasuke turned to his roommate again, “Sakura.”

The poor girl flinched again, her shoulders jolted slightly, having not expected to be called upon again so soon. “Yes!” She responded quickly, straightening up like a startled soldier receiving an order.

“Where do you want to sleep?” Even though Sasuke had phrased it like a question, Sakura could feel the weight of his expectation pressing behind each word. His gaze told her what answer he was hoping to hear.

“In Itachi-san’s bedroom,” she answered, the words coming out almost like a rehearsed line.

Sasuke didn’t break eye contact. “With whom?”

Sakura’s mouth opened to answer, but as the question fully registered, she faltered. The unexpected question struck her like a misstep in a dance. What answer did Sasuke want from her?

“With… you?” She replied uncertainly, her voice rising a pitch in confusion. Her eyes flickered up to meet his in a desperate search for the correct answer in a test she didn’t know she was taking. The absurdity of the question overrode any embarrassment she might have felt from her bold answer.

Sasuke froze. The realization dawned with a rush of heat to his face that not only did Sakura not fully understand what they talked about in the bathroom, but he’d been so caught up in his own tightly wound logic that he hadn’t thought his wording through.

“No—! What kind of answer is that, Sakura?” He burst out, spinning to face her with an almost panicked edge to his voice. His earlier frustration dissipated as flustered disbelief took over, coloring his face involuntarily.

Sakura recoiled subtly at his tone, more startled than hurt. Her brows knit as she stepped toward him and leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But we sleep next to each other back at home…”

It was a fair point, and the confusion in her tone only deepened his embarrassment. Sasuke’s mouth opened, then closed again as he tried to find an explanation. But before he could speak, Sakura’s eyes widened in sudden realization.

“Oh!” She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Alone! I want to sleep in the bedroom by myself!”

Her declaration echoed too loudly in the room, shattering what little composure either of them had left.

In front of them, Itachi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That was quite the journey,” he said lightly.

Sasuke closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You heard her, nii-san,” he muttered, not with the smugness that often accompanied such words, but with a tone worn thin by fatigue and fraying patience.

Itachi tilted his head slightly, a glint of mirth flickering in his eyes as he regarded the younger pair. The corners of his lips tugged upward, but he suppressed the chuckle building in his chest.

“I can’t argue with that then,” he said, surrendering the point with a small shrug.

With the matter settled, Sasuke stepped aside and motioned toward the bedroom. “Go,” he said to her, his voice quieter now.

Sakura hesitated, lingering at the threshold. Her fingers brushed the edge of the doorframe as she glanced back at him, uncertainty etched across her features. She trusted Sasuke, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave an upset Sasuke with the person who was the source of it, even if that person was his brother. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Sasuke urged again, his gaze softer this time.

Even with the tension still thick in the air, that look gave her just enough to hold on—to trust him, if only a little longer. Reluctantly, she gave a small nod. She glanced at the brothers once more before murmuring, “Good night.”

“Good night, Sakura-san,” Itachi responded, oddly polite, watching her disappear into his bedroom.

The hush that settled after was thick and unmoving.

The two brothers lay down on the makeshift bed on the floor with blankets hastily spread and pillows barely dividing the space between them. It was a tight fit, too close for the amount of tension still lingering between them.

Despite insisting he wanted to talk, Sasuke found that he didn’t particularly want to face his brother at all. He lay stiffly on his side, his back to Itachi, eyes staring into the dark as though sleep might take pity and drag him under. But it was Itachi who dragged him back to the present. 

“Sakura told you about what I did earlier, didn’t she?”

Sasuke didn’t move. “Were you trying to hide it?”

“Not particularly.”

Silence settled, heavy and stretching. Then, Sasuke exhaled through his nose, the sound sharp in the stillness.

“Your fake politeness would never have allowed you to do what you did with anyone else.”

“That’s hurtful, Sasuke,” Itachi replied, a soft chuckle slipping into his words, as if amused by the accusation. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

Sasuke scoffed, bitter and disbelieving. “Your lies aren’t as indisputable as you think they are.”

Itachi paused. His smile faltered just slightly, like a crack in polished porcelain.

“You sound like Mother, Sasuke.”

“And you’re dodging,” Sasuke replied flatly.

A sigh escaped Itachi, quiet and thin, though the corners of his mouth still tugged in that ever-persistent half-smile. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have done that for just anyone.”

That gave Sasuke pause. His fingers twitched slightly beneath the covers, but he didn’t move otherwise.

“You knew how I’d react,” he said eventually.

“I did,” Itachi admitted.

“Then why do it?”

“I could say she needed help and you weren’t there,” Itachi answered slowly, his voice edged with regret. “And that would be true. But maybe that’s just an excuse.”

He went quiet for a breath. Sasuke said nothing.

“I can’t tell you why I thought it was a good idea,” he admitted, his tone dropping softer. “I’m not as rational as you often want to believe.”

Sasuke didn’t respond right away. He lay still and stayed quiet for a long time. 

Itachi wasn’t a man prone to impulse. He was precise, controlled, and maddeningly rational. For him to do something irrational, to act on instinct instead of strategy, there was only one reason. And Sasuke hated the thought that crept in, because they were too alike in all the ways that mattered. If he had found Sakura in such a state, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t have done the same thing. 

He knew, of course, that Sakura had the final say. Her choice was hers alone. But the selfish part of him, and perhaps the insecure part of him, resented the idea of having Itachi as a rival. Because deep down, beneath the anger and pride, there was a gnawing truth he couldn’t ignore: that if it ever came to that, if she ever had to choose, he didn’t think he could win.

Not against Itachi. Not against the man who always seemed ten steps ahead. Not against the brother he’d spent his whole life chasing.

“I would’ve thought you had a speech prepared for me, little brother,” Itachi offered, the hint of wryness in his voice sounding more like a peace offering than a jab. 

Sasuke exhaled, low and rough. “What if I ask you to never see her again?”

Itachi sighed, the sound more resigned than surprised. “You know that’s not a promise I can keep.” His voice held no defiance, only truth. “You know a request like that would be impossible not just for me, but for the others too.”

Just as he had told Sakura earlier. He would, of course, do all that was in his power, but just as he couldn’t control Sakura’s behaviors, he couldn’t command the behaviors of his clan members any more than he could command his own emotions tonight.

“Sakura is a sweet girl. But to say she’s an open book would be an understatement,” the voice was calm, almost too calm. “She’s terrible at lying. Worse at saying no. I suppose that’s why she chose the profession she did.”

“She’s brave and capable, but also so painfully genuine that it makes her easy to sway. She let her guard down too easily. That kind of earnestness draws people in—it makes her vulnerable. It makes it easy for others to take—”

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Sasuke cut in sharply. 

Itachi exhaled, long and tired. Sasuke’s short fuse when it came to his roommate hadn’t improved one bit. “Do you intend to tell her about your fe—?”

“It’s not a great time right now,” Sasuke interrupted again.

Whatever fragile bond they had now, Sasuke didn’t want to shatter it. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that Sakura would be okay with his affiliation with the Kobu. And yet, she was still here. She hadn’t run away, hadn’t turned away from him like he feared. She was still acting as if nothing had changed between them, but Sasuke knew better. Whether she admitted it or not, that trust they had built so carefully from the first day they’d met had been severely damaged after the reveal about his past. He was sure his earlier display of anger, the side he had promised himself to never show her again, had only made things worse.

He couldn’t add more weight to that fragile balance. His feelings were his own problem. If he overwhelmed her with everything he felt, it would only push her farther away. He needed to fix this, to build things back up slowly, carefully. Until then, his feelings would stay locked where they belonged.

“Are you going to tell me not to do it?” Sasuke asked in a quiet voice. 

Itachi studied his younger brother in silence, the flickering light casting shifting shadows across his side profile. There was a time when he might’ve answered without hesitation, when caution and the cold clarity of logic would have demanded a firm yes. 

It would be wiser to keep Sakura far from the tangled web they’d spun, to shield her from the fallout of his plan. But he couldn’t bring himself to extinguish that quiet hope flickering behind Sasuke’s guarded eyes when he, himself, couldn’t extinguish his own feelings. It would be hypocritical of him to deny Sasuke his happiness now when he was actively trying to carve out a future where that happiness might be possible. Not just for Sasuke, but for Sakura and all of them.

“I’m in no position to tell you what to do, Sasuke,” Itachi said at last, his voice threaded with a weariness that came from far more than the late hour.

Itachi knew he had taken it a bit far tonight. Every subtle attempt he’d made before to catch Sakura’s attention had been careful, always cloaked in plausible deniability—a lingering glance, a word too soft, a gesture that could be explained away—except tonight. 

It wasn’t hard to want to spoil Sakura and against his better judgment, he had leaned into that temptation. It would be a lie to say his feelings hadn’t gotten the better of him, that he had let himself get lost in the indulgence of closeness. Even so, perhaps he’d been a little too cruel to Sasuke, however unintentionally. And in this dangerous game of emotions, he didn’t want anyone to be collateral damage, least of all his brother. He, especially, was the one who couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Itachi drew in a breath, tasting the dampness of the humid night air, thick with regret.

“I’m sorry for losing so much of your trust, Sasuke,” Itachi said, his tone softer now, almost fragile beneath its usual control. “You won’t see me around for a while. But when all of this is over, I hope I can earn back that trust.”

Sasuke didn’t say anything in response, letting his brother’s wish linger in the air. But in the silence, there was no rejection or accusation. There was only the quiet ache of hope, guarded and uncertain, but still alive. Part of him wanted to believe his brother would find a way to deserve it.

Chapter Text

Big parties were never really Sakura’s kind of scene, let alone one about her and hosted by her. Back when she was still living with her parents, Sakura only ever celebrated her birthday with her parents and a few of her closest friends. But no matter how simple the celebration, the one person who was always there to be the first to wish her a happy birthday was Naruto. This year, as she turned nineteen, she was determined to keep that tradition alive.

Before she even had the chance to bring it up, Naruto was already buzzing with excitement during their shift at Ichiraku Ramen. With flour-dusted hands and a wide grin, he chattered nonstop about throwing her an unforgettable birthday party. Although he wasn’t particularly thrilled at Sasuke’s guaranteed presence, given that Sakura shared the apartment with him, Naruto was reluctantly accepting. If Sakura wanted to celebrate her birthday with the people she held dear, then Sasuke had to be there. Naruto could tolerate him for a few hours.

The night before her birthday, Sakura didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary. The ramen shop had its usual hustle and bustle but was already winding down. Naruto, sleeves rolled up and apron slightly askew, was animatedly darting between to clean up, humming a tune only he seemed to know.

Sakura had just finished drying her hands and was heading out to join him when the door slammed open with a jarring clatter. A gust of cool night air swept in, and with it, a girl whose  presence immediately commanded attention. She strode in with an air of confidence, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Naruto.

“Sorry, but we’re closed for the night,” Naruto said, flashing his usual easy grin as he continued to wipe down the counter. He expected the girl to take the hint, mumble an apology, and head back into the night like any normal person. But she remained stubbornly rooted. Her hands planted firmly on her hips like she owned the place, or at least had no intention of leaving without getting what she came for.

“I know Haruno Sakura works here. Where is she?” The girl asked bluntly. There were no greetings or pleasantries, just a sharp insistence.

Naruto froze mid-wipe. His brows furrowed as he looked up, caught off guard by the abruptness and demanding tone in her voice. “Who are you?”

That was when Naruto really took in her appearance. One side of her face was partly covered by a long bang, while the rest of her blond hair was pulled up into a sleek ponytail that swayed slightly as she shifted her weight. She wore a cropped purple top that hugged her frame, paired with dark high-waisted jeans that showed off long legs and a pair of ankle boots that clacked with confidence on the wooden floor. Naruto had to wonder how this girl didn’t seem to be shivering in the chilly weather with only a cardigan to keep her warm.

The girl pursed her lips, clearly irritated that her question wasn’t answered. “Who are you?” She spat, her voice laced with impatience and just enough heat to make Naruto’s brows shoot up.

He straightened up and threw down the cleaning rag with a wet slap. “That’s my question! I asked you first!”

The girl leaned forward slightly, placing a hand on her chest for emphasis. “No, I asked you first. Now, where is Haruno Sakura?” She repeated, exaggeratedly enunciating each word.

Naruto’s eyes twitched at her persistence. His confusion morphed into irritation at the audacity of this strange girl to come into his workplace and demand to see his best friend! Naruto opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by Sakura’s calm voice from the kitchen.

“I’m about to leave, Naruto, are you done?” 

Naruto glanced toward the back, where Sakura had just stepped through the back door, towel in hand.

The blonde girl’s demeanor changed instantly. She immediately dropped the conversation with Naruto and ran toward the counter. “Sakura! There you are!” She cried, her voice a strange blend of relief and reproach.

Sakura blinked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Ino?” 

“And this guy said you don’t work here,” Ino said, jabbing a finger toward Naruto with a huff. “Honestly, you should just fire him.”

“Hey! I never said—” 

“Ino,” Sakura cut in, shaking her head as she set down the folded towel and pulled off her apron, “I’m not the boss. I can’t fire anyone.” 

Naruto crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “And for the record, I’m the boss when Ayame-nee and Teuchi-san aren’t here!”

Ino shot him a withering look. “Congratulations, Ramen Boy. You want a reward for that?” She rolled her eyes and turned back to Sakura, completely dismissing him. “Anyway, grab your bag—we’re heading out.”

“Where are we going?” Sakura asked, confusion evident in her voice.

“Yeah, what she said, and also, who even are you?” Naruto interjected, his voice full of exaggerated offense. He waved a hand dramatically between them, clearly annoyed that no one bothered to formally introduce the stranger to him.

“Out for drinks, of course. How else are we going to celebrate your birthday?” Ino said breezily, flipping her ponytail over one shoulder as if the answer had been obvious from the start. Naruto, once again, was completely ignored.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, turning toward Sakura, hoping for backup, only to find she’d already retreated into the kitchen.

Ino watched her go, arms crossed and foot tapping. A moment later, Sakura emerged from the kitchen, slipping into that familiar blue jacket she practically lived in. She swung her bag over one shoulder and stepped back into the dining area, where her two friends from different worlds were meeting for the first time. 

“My birthday is tomorrow, Ino,” she explained calmly. 

Ino rolled her eyes with an exaggerated groan. “I know that,” she said, dragging out the words like she was talking to a particularly dense child. “That’s why we’re going home on the last train today.” She added a wink for good measure, as if this was all part of some brilliant plan.

Sakura sighed, one hand on her hip. “Ino, I don’t think—”

“Oh, come on, Sakura,” Ino cut in, stepping closer with a grin that was all too familiar, mischievous and hard to say no to. “It’s not like we get to do this every week. Let loose a little.”

Then she pulled out her wallet, holding it up like a trophy. “Besides, it’s my treat.”

Sakura planted a hand on her hip, lips pursed as she weighed her options. A night out wasn’t exactly in her plans today, but then again, when was the last time she and Ino had properly hung out? They’d shared a few classes, sure, but with different majors and clashing schedules, not to mention Sakura’s part-time job at Ichiraku, they’d barely crossed paths outside of campus. And honestly, Ino offering to pay? Sakura wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or some kind of bad karma in disguise; all she knew was that it was a sign from the universe she couldn’t ignore.

Decision made, Sakura straightened up. “Alright, Ino. I’m in—let’s go!”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Ino whooped, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her toward the door with zero hesitation.

“Wait, what the hell?! Are you seriously going, Sakura-chan?” Naruto exclaimed, his voice high with disbelief.

As they passed him, Sakura reached out and gave his arm a quick, apologetic pat. “Sorry, Naruto! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And just like that, the two girls disappeared into the night, leaving Naruto standing in the middle of the ramen shop he still had to lock up. He stared at the door, lips pursed in utter confusion.

“Who the hell was that?”

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Even though they had no destination in mind, the two girls ran through the bustling streets, laughter spilling out between breaths, their hands tightly clasped. The cool night air nipped at their cheeks, mingling with the warmth of their shared laughter. The scent of street food and the distant sound of music from nearby bars filled the lively air.

They finally slowed as they reached the main street, still giggling, their breaths visible in the chilly night. Neon signs flickered overhead, casting colorful glows on their faces.

“Where are we going now?” Sakura asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Ino shrugged, her ponytail bouncing slightly as she grinned. “Anywhere! Your choice.”

Ino’s answer didn’t surprise Sakura one bit. Her friend had always been a spontaneous whirlwind, a free spirit with a knack for turning mundane moments into memories. Sakura wouldn’t have been shocked if the idea to drag her out tonight had only occurred to Ino an hour ago, probably mid-step on her way to the ramen shop.

“But who was that guy you work with?” Ino asked suddenly, wrinkling her nose as if recalling a bad smell. “He was seriously rude.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. She knew she had been so swept up with Ino that she hadn’t introduced them properly, but she was sure Ino must have recognized him from all her stories. “You mean Naruto?

“That’s the Naruto guy you always talk about?” Ino’s voice was tinged with disbelief.

Ino had heard plenty about Naruto from Sakura’s fond descriptions, always painting him as a loyal and cheerful friend. However, the Naruto she met seemed far from the charismatic figure in Sakura’s glowing accounts.

Sakura let out a short laugh, tilting her head. “What, did you expect him to be taller or something?”

“No,” Ino said, shrugging, her blond hair catching the neon lights as she did. “I expected him to have basic manners and be less… lame.”

Sakura playfully slapped Ino on the arm, her touch light and affectionate. “Don’t be mean. He might be an idiot, but he’s very dependable.”

Ino scoffed, rolling her eyes with dramatic flair. “Who’s being mean? I’m not the one who calls him an idiot.”

“I can call him that because he’s my idiot,” Sakura retorted, a warm smile spreading across her face.

Ino snorted, the sound blending with the distant hum of traffic. The girls continued their stroll, their footsteps echoing against the pavement, until Sakura suddenly stopped in her tracks.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Sakura exclaimed, eyes widening mid-step. 

“What is it?” Ino asked, slowing beside her.

Sakura fumbled in her bag, the sound of rummaging filling the brief silence, before pulling out her phone and quickly tapping out a message.

Ino peered over Sakura’s shoulder just in time to catch the name ‘Sasuke’ lighting up on the screen.

“Nothing,” Sakura said absentmindedly as she clicked send. 

Ino raised an eyebrow, a flicker of intrigue crossing her face. Sasuke was definitely a guy’s name, and not one Sakura threw around in conversation, unlike Naruto, who had basically become background noise in all of her stories.

The only time Sasuke had ever come up was when Sai casually mentioned seeing Sakura sharing an umbrella with some guy on campus. Ino, naturally, had pounced on the detail like a bloodhound, relentlessly grilling her about it until she uttered his name. And even then, Sakura had mumbled it with cheeks that practically glowed pink, insisting that they were simply friends.

Ino smirked to herself. “Ohhh, texting with your boyfriend again?” She sing-songed, her voice syrupy with mischief.

Sakura put her phone back in her pocket and rolled her eyes, though the faint blush dusting her cheeks gave her away. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said, doing her best to sound firm. “I already told you he’s just someone from school.”

Ino nodded slowly, lips pursed in mock understanding. “Riiight. And you just casually text your school friend that you’ll be out late tonight?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sakura replied a bit too quickly. Her heartbeat quickened as she tried to keep her composure.

Ino hummed thoughtfully as she studied Sakura, noting the telltale signs of her friend’s attempt to hide her blush. “You see Naruto like a brother, right? Like family?”

“Yeah,” Sakura answered slowly, warily, sensing a trap but unsure where it would spring from.

“And what did you say to him before we left?” Ino continued.

“See you tomorrow?” Sakura ventured, her confusion deepening as Ino’s expression turned more scheming.

“Exactly,” Ino said, her voice light but her eyes sharp. “Simple. Casual. Like you would to a friend. But with this Sasuke guy, You made sure to tell him you’d be out late, like you would to your family or boyfriend.”

Sakura stammered, eyes wide. Her mind scrambled for an explanation, any explanation, that didn’t involve blurting out that she and Sasuke were roommates. “Th-that’s because… I always ask Sasuke-kun about homework,” she lied. “I didn’t want him to wait up if I’m not going to tonight.”

Ino’s eyes lit up mischievously. It was adorable watching Sakura trying to deny it. “Oh, Sasuke-kun, huh?” She repeated, stretching the honorific like taffy. “You mean the guy who’s not even in your major? But who apparently stays up late just in case you have ‘homework questions’?”

Sakura’s blush exploded into full crimson. Her mouth opened, only for her brain to abandon ship entirely. “No, I—I mean…” Her words crashed into each other in a tangled panic, her mind scrambling for an exit strategy. She turned on her heel so fast she nearly stumbled. “I need to go,” she muttered, already walking away.

Ino laughed, grabbing Sakura gently by the arm before she could escape into the night. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” she said, still giggling as she slowed Sakura down. “I won’t pry anymore.”

Sakura shot her a sharp glare, but the heat in her expression was all in her cheeks, not her eyes. Ino could tell she wasn’t really mad, just mortified.

“Let’s just have a fun girls’ night out, hm?” Ino added, looping her arm through Sakura’s again, trying to lift the mood.

Sakura huffed, half in exasperation, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she let Ino pull her further down the vibrant street lined with restaurants and bars. Despite working nearby, Sakura hadn’t actually spent time exploring the area, especially with Naruto and Sasuke’s discouragement.

“Do you see any places you like?” Ino asked, gesturing grandly to the bustling nightlife around them.

Sakura looked around, taking in the kaleidoscope of neon lights from the colorful signs promising a good time. People pressed past them in groups—co-workers in loosened ties, couples huddled close, and college students already tipsy and bold.

“Is there an izakaya around here?” Sakura asked, narrowing her eyes as she tried to pick out a warm, quieter corner from the dazzling chaos.

Ino clasped her hands together excitedly. “Oh, I know a good one nearby, actually! A little tucked away but they serve the best yuzu highballs.”

“Lead the way, then.”

Sakura let Ino guide her deeper into the vibrant tide of people. The city pulsed around them. Bright signs flickering in pinks, blues, and greens cast shifting colors on every passing face. Laughter spilled from open bar doors, mingling with upbeat music and the clatter of dishes.

Sakura was just beginning to settle into the rhythm of it all when a voice cut through the din, far too close for comfort.

“Hey, you two pretty ladies looking for a place to drink?” 

The voice was slick, charming in the kind of way that made her skin crawl just a little. Sakura turned her head slightly, startled, and realized a tall man had sidled up beside Ino, his smile far too practiced, his eyes scanning them with too much familiarity.

Ino’s expression sharpened in an instant. She didn’t even stop to reply, immediately recognizing him as a tout trying to lure unsuspecting patrons into a scamming bar. Instead, she gripped Sakura’s wrist tighter and picked up her pace.

But the man didn’t take the hint. His stride matched theirs easily, and he leaned in slightly as if they were already mid-conversation.

“Our bar’s got a special event tonight,” he continued smoothly. “Pretty girls like you drink for free. You don’t want to miss it.”

Ino clicked her tongue in annoyance, her eyes narrowing as she shot the guy a pointed glare. “No, thank you.”

Sakura’s thoughts flickered back to what Naruto had told her. Touts like this lurked in the crowded streets, preying on unsuspecting tourists or, in this case, a couple of women simply trying to have a night out. It was baffling, especially considering how clearly uninterested they were. Then again, having girls in their dodgy bar might lend an air of legitimacy to unsuspecting patrons walking in behind them.

The tout didn’t seem to care for their disinterest. He leaned in closer, his voice oily and persistent. “Don’t be like that. Let me show you where our bar is.”

Without warning, his hand settled too familiarly on Ino’s shoulder blade, attempting to steer her toward a smaller side street. Swiftly, Ino slapped his hand away, her gaze hardening.

“Don’t you touch me!” Ino’s voice cut through the ambient noise of the street, drawing the attention of passersby. “Leave us alone!”

The tout’s expression faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face before he quickly raised his hands in mock surrender, a tight smile still in place. “You don’t need to get so angry; I was just trying to—”

Sakura stepped up beside her friend, a protective instinct surging through her as she pulled Ino behind her. “We’ve already told you we’re not interested! Get lost, asshole!” Her voice echoed with frustration and defiance, causing a few heads to turn as they passed by.

The tout’s eyes twitched at the boldness of her words. With a frown pulling at his lips, he moved forward, taking a step closer. “If you think that you—”

“You heard the lady.” A commanding voice cut through the tension from behind them. 

Sakura’s breath caught in her throat as a hand, cool and firm, slipped around her wrist. It wasn’t harsh, but it was enough to pull her arm up gently, as though lifting her palm for display. 

The tout faltered, his bravado evaporating in the presence of the looming figure that emerged behind the two girls.

Sakura turned her head and immediately recognized the familiar mask half covering the face she had come to know.

“Uchiha-san?” Sakura exclaimed in relief, her heart skipping a beat as she scanned the familiar figure standing before her. 

Obito wore a dark suit, impeccably tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and imposing frame. The fabric shimmered subtly under the soft glow of the streetlights, lending him an air of quiet elegance. His hair, usually tousled, was neatly combed back, emphasizing his sharp features.

Obito’s intense gaze met hers, his posture remaining poised as he nodded slightly, acknowledging her with his usual calm. “Haruno-san.”

Ino, who had been standing beside Sakura, observed the exchange with interest, but she held her tongue for now. The tout, clearly rattled, seemed to recognize Obito’s distinctive appearance. His gaze then flicked to the emblem on Sakura’s jacket sleeve. He wasn’t sure what the girl’s connection to that organization was, but he wasn’t about to stay and find out. 

Clicking his tongue in frustration, the tout realized it was prudent to retreat. “You better not let me see you again or else…” he muttered under his breath, vanishing into the crowd before Sakura could hear his full threat.

As the last of the tension ebbed away, Obito’s voice broke through the silence again.

“Are you two okay?” He asked, his voice calm and reassuring now that the nuisance had departed.

Sakura nodded gratefully, her hand instinctively pulling away from Obito’s grip when she realized they were still connected. The faint, rough texture of the band-aid on his finger brushed against the back of her hand.

“Thank you so much, Uchiha-san.” 

She tried to keep a polite tone but it was hard when Ino’s eyes sparkled at the sight of a handsome newcomer with barely concealed interest. Ino nudged Sakura’s side with her elbow, prompting her to make introductions.

Sakura let out a defeated sigh. 

“This is my friend, Yamanaka Ino.” Sakura gestured with an open palm toward her blonde companion, who was practically glowing with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “Ino, this is Uchiha Obito-san.”

Obito nodded with quiet grace, his expression as measured as ever. “Yamanaka-san,” he said, acknowledging Ino with a respectful tone.

Ino, never one to stand on ceremony, waved a dismissive hand and grinned widely. “Oh, just Ino is fine,” she said, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder with a practiced flick of her wrist. Sakura rolled her eyes at her friend’s antics, feeling a mix of fondness and exasperation. 

Ino tilted her head slightly, studying Obito with an open curiosity, then added, “Obito-kun.”

Obito, to his credit, didn’t even flinch at the sudden familiarity, his expression remaining unruffled. His polite smile lingered on his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“What a coincidence meeting you here, Uchiha-san,” Sakura chimed in. 

Although her words were genuine, she couldn’t shake the faint suspicion gnawing at her. Had he been following her? It wasn’t completely out of the question. After all, he had driven her home after her conversation with Izuna a few weeks ago. Running into him again so soon seemed almost too convenient. She hoped the unease didn’t seep into her tone, but with Sasuke’s paranoia still echoing in her mind, it was hard to ignore. 

“Are you out for drinks as well?”

Obito raised an eyebrow at her question, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes as though  she was missing something obvious. Unexpectedly, a soft chuckle escaped him, a low, almost melodic sound that Sakura wasn't quite used to yet. 

“That’s not entirely wrong, Haruno-san. Drinking is part of the job.”

What exactly did that mean? Drinking is a part of being a yakuza? 

Her gaze searched his face for any hint of what he meant by that statement, but his expression was as calm and unreadable as ever. It was almost as if he were waiting for her to connect the dots on her own.

To be safe, Sakura decided to ask, her tone deliberately vague. “Do you… work around here?”

The Uchiha nodded once, then casually jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Both girls turned to follow the gesture, and their eyes landed on a storefront blazing with one of the biggest neon signs on the street. IZANAGI. The glow gave the entrance an almost surreal quality—glamorous, magnetic, and just a little overwhelming.

Ino gasped, her eyes going wide like a kid discovering candy behind a glass case. “Oh my kami! You’re a host at Izanagi? No wonder!”

Sakura looked at her friend in confusion. “No wonder what?”

Ino turned to her, her excitement bubbling over like champagne as she grabbed Sakura’s wrist. “Sakura, let’s go in here.”

“In Izanagi? Is it a famous bar?” Sakura asked, her eyes scanning the flashy exterior adorned with gaudy decorations and vibrant lights. It certainly didn’t look like the cozy izakaya they had planned to go to. The place seemed too glamorous for her taste, and she wasn’t even dressed for such an upscale venue. Her casual attire felt out of place among the stylishly dressed patrons entering the club.

Ino snorted at her friend’s naivety and flicked her forehead with the force of someone who’d known her friend far too well. “No, dummy,” she said, her tone light but laced with affection. “It’s the most well-known host club in all of Tokyo!”

Obito suppressed a grin at Sakura’s absolutely clueless expression. She looked genuinely lost, her hand instinctively rising to rub the spot on her forehead where Ino’s playful flick had landed. It was clear she understood the individual words “host” and “club,” but not the concept when combined. 

Sakura gave Ino a slow, uncertain nod. “I mean… sure, if it’s that amazing,” she said, her voice tentative. Her eyes, wide and slightly overwhelmed, gave her an almost childlike look, like someone agreeing to try a rollercoaster without knowing how high it went.

Ino burst out laughing, the sound light and smug. “Oh, trust me, it’s more than amazing.” She turned toward Obito with a teasing glint in her eyes, clearly enjoying the situation far too much. “Right, Obito-kun?”

Obito inclined his head. “Of course,” he said; his voice was like silk wrapping something you probably shouldn’t unwrap. “We hosts always aim to bring you ladies the best time.” 

It was charming and slightly theatrical, clearly a line he’d used before, fine-tuned to deliver just the right balance of allure and professionalism.

Sakura, however, was a bit more hesitant. Partly because she didn’t know what a host club was and partly because she didn’t feel so comfortable having Obito serve her and her friend. Not to mention how eerily friendly Obito was being, like he’d flipped a switch.

“Do you really not mind?” She asked, her voice edged with uncertainty.

Obito’s polite smile remained perfectly in place, and that, more than anything, made her uneasy. It wasn’t that he was being rude. He was the picture of charm and grace, but that carefully sculpted expression was starting to feel more like a mask she couldn’t read.

She knew she hadn’t known the man that long, but even then, he was acting so different from the serious yet witty Obito from her first impression that the stark contrast unsettled her. But the faint scent of alcohol on his breath confirmed her growing suspicion. He was not sober. 

“Of course not,” Obito replied. “It would be my pleasure.”

Before Sakura could decide how she felt about that, Ino let out a high-pitched squeal of delight beside her. 

“This is going to be so fun!” She exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Obito turned and led them the short distance to Izanagi’s entrance, moving with an effortless confidence. Despite the size of the building, the front entrance was surprisingly narrow. They were two sleek doors, understated compared to the neon spectacle above. They looked like the gateway to another world, polished and dark, reflecting distorted glimpses of the girls as they approached.

The entrance stretched inward like a velvet-lined tunnel, muffling the street noise behind them. As they stepped inside, a rush of cool air washed over Sakura’s skin. Framed portraits lined the wall on either side of the narrow corridor. Each photo was perfectly centered and evenly spaced, glowing like miniature spotlights in a gallery of curated fantasy. Ino’s eyes lit up as they passed, already scanning the faces like she was window shopping.

Sakura found herself counting automatically, at least thirty. Each man in the frames had a number printed above his portrait. The men’s expressions ranged wildly: some grinned with mischievous charm, others wore pensive, smoldering stares that felt far too intense for a photograph. A few had that arrogant tilt of the chin, the kind that dared you to look away first. 

As the number got smaller, Sakura found the men becoming more alike. Dark eyes. Dark hair. Sharp features and calculating gazes that felt like they could see straight through her. 

As they walked deeper, the polished floors and subtle scent of cologne made her feel both out of place and oddly fascinated.

As they reached the end of the tunnel leading to a large, dimly lit room, Sakura saw Obito’s picture under the number 2 and a dreadfully familiar face under number 1. Her stomach churned at his smug smile, and she grimaced.

Was this a bad idea after all?

Ino didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. She was still buzzing with excitement as they stepped through the final threshold and entered the main hall. The room opened like a theater curtain being drawn back. Plush velvet seating in jewel tones curved around low tables, perfectly arranged for intimacy and indulgence. Gilded chandeliers dripped from the high ceilings like crystal rain, casting soft, fragmented light that danced across the walls. Above, the ceiling itself was glass, colored deep crimson, like wine held up to the light. A mesmerizing projection of dark tomoes slowly spun across its surface, rotating with a hypnotic pattern.

As Obito guided them through the bustle of the club, bringing them to a booth nestled in the corner of the main room, Sakura’s gaze swept across the space and took in the intoxicating rhythm of it all. Hosts, impeccably dressed and exuding charm, mingled with the guests. They leaned in just close enough to whisper; their smiles were bright enough to rival the glint of crystal glasses. The soft hum of conversation, occasional bursts of laughter, and clinking glasses created an atmosphere that was both lively and exclusive.

When Sakura sank into the velvety cushion, the material cool against her legs, it finally clicked. This place wasn’t just selling drinks; it was selling the illusion of companionship and attraction. It was the kind of attention that made you feel like the center of someone’s universe. It was artifice artfully done.

Her gaze slid to a nearby table where a tall, white-haired host was wiping a tear from a young woman’s cheek while smiling at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. Sakura’s chest tightened at how convincing it looked.

When she turned back to Ino, her friend was practically buzzing. Ino’s blue eyes were alight, scanning the room like a child let loose in a candy store. Every detail seemed to thrill her—the lighting, the atmosphere, the attention. Ino was glowing, clearly in her element. Even if Obito was still playing his polished, host-like part, Sakura felt a little steadier with him there. To Sakura, the thought of stepping into this glamorous, unknown world was daunting, but a part of her couldn’t deny a flicker of curiosity. 

Promptly, Obito handed them a binder that Sakura assumed was the menu. However, the first page wasn’t about the type of drinks that were being offered but a man’s profile. The page was filled with details about his interests, hobbies, and specialties, accompanied by a glossy photo. Just to be sure, Sakura flipped through the binder, only to find the drink menu on the very last page. The array of cocktails and spirits was impressive, but it was clear that the focus was on the hosts themselves.

On the side, Obito was having the time of his life watching Sakura’s confusion turn to realization. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned closer. “Have you girls decided or would you prefer a trial run?”

With one glance at the menu, Ino spoke up before Sakura could voice her concern. “I think it’s only natural that girls like us get the best, don’t you think?” Her tone dripped with flirtation. Her eyes sparkled like she was already tipsy on the thrill of it all.

Obito glanced over at Sakura for a brief second, silently asking if she had any objection. Sakura’s brow furrowed even more at the exchange, not sure what was going on. But then Obito smiled, his expression warm and accommodating. “Naturally. What about a drink?”

“I’ll start with a bloody mary and a bottle of vodka. Sakura?” Ino turned to her friend, who was still behind in the conversation, just now really looking at the drink menu filled with names she had never read before. The array of choices seemed almost overwhelming, each drink more extravagant than the last.

“Ino…” Sakura whispered in horror, pleading for help with her eyes wide and desperate.

“And Sakura will have a strawberry margarita,” Ino declared with a decisive nod.

Obito nodded, his smile never wavering. “I’ll be back with them shortly.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, Sakura twisted in her seat and shoved the menu into Ino’s face with barely controlled panic, her voice a harsh whisper. “Ino, have you seen the price tag on these drinks? Are you sure you want to drink here instead of, like… a normal bar?”

Ino’s only response was an eye-roll as dramatic as her eyeliner. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my treat, remember?”

“Did you not hear what I said?” Sakura jabbed her finger at the strawberry margarita listing like it personally offended her. “Look at how many zeros there are! I don’t want to spend your money like this!”

Ino patted her friend’s shoulder with a soothing, almost patronizing grace. “Then you don’t have to worry,” she said, her tone sing-song. “Because it’s not my money.”

Sakura stared at Ino, her confusion and disbelief deepening. “...Whose wallet did you steal?”

Ino laughed, waving her friend off. 

“I’m offended, Sakura. Remember that date you went on in my stead?” Her fingers danced across her phone screen before she turned it around for Sakura to see. “I don’t know what you did, but he even tipped you. See?”

Sakura snatched the phone from Ino’s hands, her stomach tightening at the numbers of zeros lined up neatly. 

“Paid in full and then some,” Ino said smugly, leaning back in her seat like a satisfied mastermind. “Didn’t say a single word about our switcheroo either. Honestly, I think you might’ve upgraded the experience.”

Sakura continued to stare at the screen as if it might suddenly reveal a misplaced comma. But it didn’t. It just sat there, glaringly real.

“Is this a normal rate for one date?” She murmured, her brain scrambling to make sense of it.

“I’d say this is very much the higher range,” Ino said cheerfully, her grin widening like she was already planning to sell Sakura off again. She elbowed her friend playfully. “Who knew you had such potential to be a sugar baby, huh?”

Sakura gave her a sharp glare, though her expression was more bewildered than angry. “I don’t understand…”

“So don’t worry about the bill,” Ino beamed. “I saved every penny from that payment just so we can have the best night tonight!”

After Ino had sent her the amount she had promised for the favor, Sakura had tried hard to forget she ever even heard of that date, but it seemed to haunt her at every step. Now, Madara was indirectly paying for her night out with Ino at this host club. It would be rude and embarrassing to leave right after they had settled and ordered their drinks, but Sakura was really considering it now. Especially after she had finally managed to scan the room.

All the tables were full, mostly with one or a group of girls surrounded by men, engaged in conversation and flirtation. They were paying for the company, and Sakura felt a pang of discomfort realizing she was no better than Madara now. Of all the things, Sakura didn’t think she’d be made a hypocrite by letting her friend drag her into a host club.

Unfortunately, Sakura didn’t even get a chance to voice her concern before their drinks arrived, served by none other than the number one ranked host at Izanagi.

“Good evening, princesses.” The voice was smooth, confident, and painfully familiar. Sakura’s head snapped up, her breath catching as her gaze met his grin, disarming yet mischievous. His midnight blue suit looked like it had been tailored to his very bones. Every movement, from the way he dipped his head in a slight bow to the easy way he leaned in, screamed charisma. 

“I’m Uchiha Shisui,” he said. “I’ll be your host for tonight.”

Sakura’s stomach dropped with dread. She really regretted letting Ino make decisions for her now.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Shisui was serving an important patron that night, a woman coveted by many in the world of mizu shōbai, both for her beauty and the connections she carried. She was a regular, loyal since their very first encounter, and had nominated him without hesitation. Her extravagant spending was a key reason he’d maintained his number one ranking. But more important than her patronage, she was a goldmine of insider information, gleaned from high-profile clients who let their guards down under the intoxicating glow of soft lights and sake. That made her not just valuable but desirable as a customer.

Shisui thought nothing could distract him from serving her. She was, after all, a prized patron. But he was proven wrong the moment Obito leaned in and whispered in his ear about the guests who had just arrived. Whether it was disbelief, curiosity, or simply the need for a break from the predictable rhythm of the night, Shisui found himself intrigued. With his signature grin, he touched his patron’s hand in a gentle parting gesture and signaled two supporting hosts to take over. She gave him a look of disappointment, but it didn’t last when another admirer slid into the vacant space beside her, eager to win her attention.

As Shisui navigated through the throng of patrons, the scent of expensive cologne and faint traces of alcohol mixed in the air. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he spotted her—a flash of unmistakable pink hair standing out amidst the crowd, so out of place in the dimly lit establishment. From their first encounter, he had gathered that Sakura was not the type to seek entertainment in places like this, but here she was, proving him wrong. Just when would this girl stop surprising him?

“Good evening, princesses,” Shisui greeted smoothly, dipping into a practiced bow. The smug curl of his lips betrayed his amusement as Sakura’s expression shifted to sheer panic and mortification, like a deer caught in chandelier light. If he could bottle that look and sip it like wine, he might never sober up.

“I’m Uchiha Shisui,” he said, his gaze lingering just a beat too long on Sakura. “I’ll be your host for tonight. May I join you?”

The word ‘no’ was perched right on the tip of Sakura’s tongue, but Ino answered before she had the chance. 

“Can I call you Shisui-kun?” She asked. Ever the bold one, she leaned in just a little closer and batted her lashes at him.

Sakura shot her friend a look that could only be described as a silent scream as she resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She was amazed, and frankly a little horrified, at how shamelessly Ino was taking full advantage of the services the hosts provided. The contrast between her own discomfort and Ino’s brazen confidence made her feel even more out of place. Her heart thudded anxiously in her chest as she struggled to compose herself, hoping her unease didn’t show too plainly on her face.

Shisui chuckled, his laughter a soft, melodious sound that blended seamlessly with the ambient chatter of the room. He didn’t flinch at Ino’s direct request. 

“I only answer to that name anywa, especially when pretty girls like you say it, Ino-san,” he said, winking at her, before glancing over at Sakura. His gaze lingered once more, as if telling her to follow Ino’s lead. She held his gaze just long enough to make her defiance known before looking away, chin lifting in quiet resistance.

Ino, meanwhile, giggled, clearly flattered. “Ino,” she corrected, her eyes locking onto his with a playful glint. “It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

Shisui dipped his head in an easy nod, flashing the signature smile that revealed only what the customer wanted to see and nothing more. “Ino-chan it is.”

Sakura quietly cursed under her breath as she watched Shisui expertly serve their ordered cocktails. Seating himself on a stool opposite them, Shisui leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement—at her, no doubt.

Obito returned a moment later, carrying a stylized bottle of what Sakura guessed was a strong liquor, along with two elegant bottles of water. She couldn’t help but notice the meticulous way he tilted the glass to place a block of ice before pouring the water in a smooth stream. Even the way he set down the coaster was precise, rotating it so that the name of the host club faced the guests perfectly. 

Shisui held up the clear bottle of liquor, the liquid catching the light and casting shimmering reflections on the table. He poured generously into the remaining glasses for himself and Obito. Sakura couldn’t help but wonder if they were paying for that bottle as well, a thought that made her bite her lip in nervousness.

“Please enjoy,” Shisui offered, his hand gesturing gracefully towards the girls’ drinks.

Ino happily obliged, lifting her glass without hesitation. Sakura, on the other hand, paused—her fingers just grazing the cool surface of the glass. The fruity aroma of the liquor wafted up, mingling with the faint scent of flowers from a nearby arrangement. She could feel her pulse quicken, a tangle of nerves and curiosity, as she glanced sideways at Ino, who was already sipping with an eager smile.

Sakura had never been much of a drinker. But with just a few tentative sips, she found herself realizing that fruity cocktails like these might be her weakness. Sweet, deceptive, and far too easy to fall into—quite similar to this world of masked intentions she had somehow found herself in.

“So, what brings you two lovely ladies to Izanagi tonight?” Shisui asked, his voice inviting.

“Oh!” Ino hurriedly set down her drink with a soft clink and reached over to place a hand on Sakura’s shoulder. “We’re celebrating Sakura’s nineteenth birthday, actually.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Shisui exclaimed, his eyes widening in playful disbelief.

“Happy birthday, Haruno-san,” Obito chimed in warmly, lifting his glass with deliberate sincerity.

Shisui echoed the gesture with enthusiasm, and Ino followed suit. As all eyes turned expectantly toward her, Sakura felt the weight of their attention settle heavily on her. Flushed with sudden self-consciousness, she hesitated before reluctantly lifting her glass.

“My birthday is not until tomorrow,” Sakura said, trying to deflect the attention with a sheepish smile, knowing what she had to do after their glasses touched. 

But Shisui had already jumped to his feet. He raised his glass high in a gesture of celebration. “To Sakura-san!” He declared, his voice ringing with a touch of dramatic flair.

Everyone else followed suit, their glasses meeting in the middle with a melodic clink that resonated through the air. Sakura then brought the glass to her lips and took a sip, letting the sweet and tangy flavors dance on her tongue, a small indulgence that felt oddly comforting amid the unfamiliarity. The sharp bite of alcohol lingered faintly at the back of her throat, but with each careful sip, it softened into something akin to juice. 

Turning to Obito and Shisui, however, Sakura’s eyes widened in disbelief as both men turned to the side and tipped their glasses back in unison. The clear liquid disappeared in seconds, vanishing without so much as a grimace. Before Sakura could fully process the spectacle, Ino joined in, downing her Bloody Mary like it was nothing more than mere tomato juice on a summer day. Sakura blinked, momentarily stunned, her half-finished drink suddenly feeling heavy in her hand.

Putting down his glass, Shisui let out a contented sigh, a faint smile playing on his lips. His eyes sparkled as they met hers, catching her reaction like a spotlight. “Is something wrong, Princess?” He asked, his tone light and teasing.

Sakura opened her mouth to voice her surprise but closed it again, shaking her head in awkward hesitation. 

“Nothing,” she muttered. Her cheeks burned, and not just from embarrassment. The warmth of the alcohol had begun to spread through her limbs, a slow, creeping heat that made her feel both floaty and hyper-aware. 

If drinking is that big a part of the job, no wonder Shisui is number one.

Shisui’s smile widened, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, as Sakura averted her eyes and busied herself with her drink again. The way he watched her, with that calculated charm, made her feel both exposed and electrified, as if every glance he threw her way peeled back another layer.

But his attention was quickly shifted. With the same meticulous care he had shown earlier, Shisui prepared Ino a glass of the clear liquor, the precise movements of his hands oddly mesmerizing. Obito, meanwhile, offered Sakura a cool glass of water. She accepted it with a small nod of gratitude, her fingers brushing his for a brief moment. The chill of the glass was grounding against the warmth blooming through her chest.

Ino took her drink with a cheerful hum and sipped eagerly. She could feel its warmth spreading like a slow flame through her veins. A soft pink flush bloomed across her cheeks, and the edges of the room began to soften and blur, as though someone had gently smudged reality with a brushstroke.

Her gaze drifted to Obito. The quiet man with half his face covered suddenly seemed impossibly more mysterious and captivating.

“...What did you say your name was again?” She asked, her voice slightly slurred but filled with genuine curiosity. Her head tilted to the side, strands of blonde hair brushing her cheek as she blinked at him with open, intoxicated interest.

“It’s Uchiha Obito,” he replied simply.

“Can I call you Obito-kun?” She asked, her eyes sparkling with the mischievousness brought on by the alcohol.

Sakura rolled her eyes again as Obito flashed Ino a friendly smile. They had already been through this conversation, but he didn’t mind humoring her again. 

“If you want to,” he replied, his tone easygoing, though Sakura didn’t miss the subtle flicker of restraint behind his eyes.

Ino grinned, clearly pleased, her alcohol-loosened curiosity undeterred. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask this earlier but how did you know Sakura?” Ino’s question hung in the air, innocent yet unknowingly loaded. 

Sakura stiffened, the rim of her glass brushing her lower lip as she paused mid-sip.

Caught off guard, his customer service smile faltered slightly. Inside, his mind scrambled to assemble a believable answer, one that wouldn’t unravel anything that shouldn’t be unraveled. His pulse quickened under the sudden scrutiny, but before he could speak, Shisui stepped in without missing a beat.

“We all know each other through work,” Shisui said smoothly, his voice carrying a casual confidence that seemed to settle the matter instantly.

Sakura’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide. Her mind reeled at his bold fabrication. Next to her, Obito was glaring discreetly at his cousin, his eyes darkening with a mix of disbelief and irritation.

“Wait a minute, you also know Sakura?” Ino’s voice cut through the moment as she turned to Shisui, her curiosity deepened.

Shisui didn’t even flinch. Instead, he turned toward her with an easy smile that made it impossible to tell whether he was being sincere or simply playing the part. His eyes danced with mischief, the gleam of someone who enjoyed walking the edge of the truth.

“Why yes,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue effortlessly as he shifted his gaze to Sakura. “Though given the circumstances we met under, I have to say I’m flattered you personally requested me tonight, Princess.”

Sakura frowned, her brows knitting tightly as a wave of confusion passed through her. She was certain she hadn’t muttered his name once, sober or drunk. But arguing with Shisui could come later; she first needed to do some damage control over his baseless claim.

Promptly, she forced a light laugh, waving a hand in front of her face as if brushing away the awkwardness.

“I wouldn’t say we know each other.” Her tone was light but strained around the edges. “It’s more like we’ve… crossed paths a couple times.” 

But Ino’s curiosity was piqued, and she wasn’t about to let it go so easily. “Oh?” Her eyes flicked between them.

Before Sakura could redirect, Shisui chimed in again, the picture of ease.

“You’re right,” he said, flashing an infuriatingly charming smile. “That makes our relationship way past ‘knowing’ each other.”

Sakura’s head whipped toward Shisui, her glare sharp enough to slice clean through him. Her cheeks flushed from sheer, mounting frustration. Shisui had to suppress a laugh when Obito’s expression mirrored hers.

“So you all meet through work?” Ino asked. Her eyes flickered between the three of them as she took a moment to decode Shisui’s words. As far as she knew, Sakura’s only full-time job was being a student, and these two didn’t exactly pass as teachers. “Oh, you mean Sakura’s part-time job at Ichiraku?”

At that, both Uchiha men turned their attention toward Sakura, unified and suddenly very interested in this new piece of information. Sakura stiffened under their gazes, heavy with curiosity and the promise of future questions. She shifted uncomfortably, though she remained quiet, neither confirming nor denying.

Being accustomed to every street and corner of Kabukicho, the two of them were already aware of the tiny, yet well-known local stable. But knowing the place and knowing she worked there were two very different things. This was something they’d have to update in her profile later.

“That’s the one! Although I don’t go to Ichiraku just for ramen.” The corners of Shisui’s mouth lifted into a mischievous grin as he winked at Sakura.

Sakura mock-gagged and rolled her eyes when Ino wasn’t looking. It wasn’t the most convincing cover, but at least Ino didn’t seem to suspect anything. In fact, she seemed too enamored by Shisui’s charm to dig deeper. But then Shisui, clearly enjoying himself too much, decided to light a match and toss it into the room just to see what would burn.

“I remember the first time we met; Princess was so mad, she held a knife to Obito’s throat.”

Sakura and Obito both froze, visibly tensed as they stared wide-eyed at Shisui. What is this man planning to do? 

“Shisui,” Obito warned, his voice low and tight with restraint. He looked as if he wanted to reach over and strangle his cousin with his bare hands, but Shisui’s faux-innocent smile remained plastered on his face. His attention stayed locked on Sakura, hungry for a reaction. It would seem his cousin takes immense pleasure in messing with her, in watching her squirm in her seat with no escape in sight.

“Uchiha-san,” Sakura hissed, but Shisui only tilted his head like he hadn’t heard her. 

“Hmm?” He prompted, leaning in slightly, just enough to invade her space. His eyes gleamed with playful menace.

She knew exactly what he wanted from that expectant look on his face.

Grinding her teeth, she exhaled sharply and relented, her voice clipped. “…Shisui-san.”

Victory flashed across his features. “Did I say something wrong?” Shisui finally answered her in a voice so disarming yet smug that it made Sakura want to throw her drink at him.

Ino, who had previously been laughing and relaxed, was now sitting up straighter, her gaze flicking between Sakura and Shisui like she’d stumbled into the middle of a secret she wasn’t supposed to hear.

“You did that, Sakura?” Ino asked, her voice tinged with incredulous curiosity. Her eyes were wide, round with interest as she turned fully to face her friend. “How did you end up holding a knife to his throat?”

“That’s not what happened!” Sakura blurted out in panic, her voice pitching higher with exasperation. One foot stomped beneath the table with enough force to make Ino blink. Her cheeks burned, heat rising all the way to her ears.

“I just…” She started, then faltered. Her eyes flicked toward Obito, silently begging for backup. But he wasn’t looking at her; he was glaring daggers at Shisui, his jaw so tight it looked like he might crack a molar.

“… Happened to be holding a knife… because I was cutting something in the kitchen, and…” Her voice trailed as she grasped for a believable thread. “Er, you must’ve said something, right?”

Obito’s single eye snapped up to meet Sakura’s when the spotlight was suddenly put back on him. He exhaled a breath, clearly trying to pull himself together beneath the weight of three expectant stares.

“It’s just as Haruno-san said,” he replied stiffly, giving Shisui a glare sharp enough to wound. “There was no knife-to-throat action, Shisui.” His voice dropped to a hiss on the name.

But Shisui just leaned back in his seat and gave a one-shouldered shrug, completely unbothered. It wasn’t against the law to have this much fun at work.

“I must’ve misremembered then,” he said breezily. “You know how I am.”

It was a blatant lie, and Obito could tell Sakura saw straight through it. Shisui was many things, but forgetful wasn’t one of them. His memory was surgical, his lies smooth enough to pass for truth even under scrutiny. A man like him didn’t survive in espionage by being careless. This chaos was clearly curated. 

But before the tension could settle too deep, Ino giggled and leaned toward Sakura, nudging her shoulder.

“You know, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you actually did do that, especially when you’re angry.” Her voice danced with amusement, clearly enjoying the drama.

“Ino!” Sakura gasped indignantly, her voice rising in protest, though inwardly, she was just glad Ino seemed to have brought it.

Ino burst out laughing, delighted with herself, yet Shisui only seemed to watch Sakura. Her animated frustration, the way her brows knit together and her cheeks flushed with indignant heat. All her expressions were more than amusing; they were downright endearing, dangerously so. He had only meant to loosen her up a little, but his own impulses had taken the reins, and somewhere along the way, teasing her had become too tempting to resist.

It was one of the surest ways to force her to look at him—draw her in through provocation for a glimpse of that shyness she tried to mask with anger. And Shisui adored it. The way her eyes sparked when she was flustered, the way her voice wavered between protest and pride. But if he was honest, it didn’t matter what emotion she wore, so long as it was aimed at him. In fact, the more she pulled away, the more he felt that magnetic pull to chase her attention.

It had to be a kind of talent, the way someone as self-aware as her kept falling into his traps, again and again. Each time, she took the bait, flustered and furious, only to scramble to dig herself out with every little bit of stubborn pride she had. And that effort—so desperate, so earnest—wasn’t just admirable, it was downright intoxicating. Because every time she pushed back, every time she fought to regain control, it made him want to test her limits all the more. To see just how far he could go before she broke.

Still, Shisui wasn’t foolish. There was a fine line between tension and collapse. If he pushed too hard, she might just snap. And that would be the end of their little game. He wasn’t yet ready to lose a distraction this interesting.

Deciding that he had had enough fun—at least for now—he leaned back, shifting gears as smoothly as flipping a switch. With an easy smile, he redirected the conversation, clearly aiming to ease the tension he’d stirred and alleviate Sakura’s discomfort. 

“Alright, I think we’ve teased the birthday girl enough,” he said, turning to Ino. “What about you, Ino-chan?”

Ino turned to him, pleasantly caught off guard by the sudden attention. “What about me?” She echoed, her tone light, almost flirtatious.

“What’s been going on in your life, for example? Shisui asked. “I’m sure a pretty girl like you has no shortage of excitement.”

Eyeing Shisui’s charming smile, which seemed to cast a spell on an already tipsy Ino, Sakura cut in, her voice tinged with protective annoyance. “She’s taken.”

Ino let out a surprised laugh and tapped Sakura’s knee in protest. “Sakura!”

“Ino! It’s true!” Sakura’s eyes darted to Shisui with a warning look. “So don’t you try anything weird.”

Shisui chuckled, the sound low and rich, like he wasn’t the least bit threatened by her tone. Rising from his stool, he sauntered over and casually slid into the seat beside Ino.

“Well, too bad for you, Princess,” he said with a grin, “because I happen to think girls with boyfriends are actually way hotter.”

Ino giggled, the sound high and sweet, a clear sign she was far beyond tipsy. Sakura’s eyes flicked to the empty glass of Bloody Mary and the abandoned shot glass. How many had she downed while Sakura’s attention was elsewhere?

“Sai’s fine, Sakura,” Ino slurred, her voice soft and dreamy. “I already told him I'd be out tonight. He knows how I am.” 

Seated beside Ino, Shisui draped his arm casually along the back of her seat, nodding with exaggerated seriousness as if he, too, could vouch for a man he’d never met in his life. The corner of his mouth quirked upward into a smirk, but his eyes kept drifting back to Sakura—watching, waiting, reveling in her reaction far more than he probably should. But when his gaze slid to something next to her, his smile lost its edge for a second. A flicker of begrudging acceptance passed through him before he turned to Ino with renewed attention, the charm returning like a mask slipped back into place.

Sakura knew Sai was open-minded and patient. Even after learning about Ino’s involvement with papakatsu, he had remained wholeheartedly supportive. But as she watched Ino, her friend’s laughter a touch too bright and her eyes glassy, a pang of worry twisted in Sakura’s gut. She feared Ino might be pushing the boundaries of Sai’s understanding too far.

“But—” Sakura began, the word barely formed before a warm hand settled gently on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” came the low voice beside her, much closer than she remembered, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him now. “Shisui won’t try anything.”

She turned, catching Obito’s gaze. She didn’t realize he had come to sit next to her, but she had more pressing things to deal with. “Uchiha-san,” she sighed, hoping to enlist his support.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Haruno-san.” Obito gave her a smile, one she was still not used to. “Shisui might be a flirt but that’s only because it’s part of the job.”

Her eyes flicked to Shisui again, her jaw tightening with the urge to argue. 

“You can trust me,” Obito said gently.

She held his gaze, searching it for cracks. But there was only quiet confidence and something warmer beneath. With a reluctant sigh, she relented. “Fine. I’ll trust you this time.” Her gaze drifted toward Ino and Shisui, now leaning in close, caught in their own private orbit. “And them, too, I guess. For now.”

“Here.” Obito handed her a drink, the glass cool against her fingers.

Sakura snorted at the timing, one brow arching as a smile tugged at her lips despite her wariness. She took a sip. The crisp, cold taste was a welcome distraction.

“Trying to get me drunk like Ino, Obito-san?” She teased.

The way Sakura addressed him caused Obito to pause, but he masked it with a chuckle. It would seem he had done his job so flawlessly that Sakura hadn’t even realized she had dropped the formal tone the way Ino so boldly did. A quiet triumph sparked in him. He wasn’t about to miss the chance to return the favor.

“Can you blame me when it’s part of the job, Sakura-san?”

Sakura laughed at their evolving inside joke. “Right, your job as a yakuza, a kidnapper—”

“Escort,” Obito interjected without missing a beat.

“—and now a host,” she finished with a smirk.

“What can I say?” He leaned back with mock pride. “I’m a jack of all trades.”

Another laugh bubbled from her, more genuine this time. The tension that had coiled in her shoulders all evening began to melt, her posture loosening as if she could finally take a real breath.

Obito’s smile deepened with quiet satisfaction, watching as the edges of Sakura’s guard began to soften just enough.

“How are you liking your first time at a host club so far?” Obito asked.

“It’s… an interesting experience,” she replied slowly, weighing the words. “I guess I’m still wrapping my head around the concept.”

Sakura took another sip of her drink. It was sweeter now, more familiar. The chilled liquid lingered pleasantly on her tongue, like something deceptively harmless.

Obito regarded her for a moment, his gaze lingering on the slight glassiness in her eyes, the almost imperceptible sway of her body as she sat. He shifted slightly, his tone dipping into something more grounded. “If you want to leave, I can escort you out of here right now,” he offered, no teasing in his voice this time. “I won’t be offended.”

The sudden seriousness caught her off guard. His expression mirrored the Obito she had first met: stoic, a quiet strength behind his words.

“But I can’t leave without—” She started.

“I’ll make sure both of you leave together,” he interjected. 

Sakura glanced over at Ino, who, upon meeting her eyes, gave a playful wink. Relax and live it up a little, her friend’s unspoken thoughts seemed to whisper.

Places like these weren’t exactly where Sakura would typically find herself, let alone pay for their services. But between Ino’s endorsement, the lively ambiance, and the night’s special occasion, Sakura found herself loosening her grip on old judgments. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to immerse herself in something new that the city had to offer. 

Sakura’s gaze shifted back to Obito, who watched her with a mix of patience and gentle encouragement. She took another sip of her drink, the liquid smooth and inviting. If she was already here, maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing to surrender a little and embrace the experience. After all, paying for someone to talk to you didn’t seem so strange if that person was someone she found herself surprisingly comfortable with. 

If this was the only time she’d ever consider indulging in something like this, then maybe it was worth letting her guard down, if only for the night. A slow, cautious smile tugged at Sakura’s lips at the thought, as her earlier tension began to fade into something softer.

“I’d like to stay a bit longer,” she said quietly.

Obito didn’t let the flicker of relief fully show, but he felt it ripple through him nonetheless. 

“I’m curious, though.”

Like a switch, the friendly and overly interested attitude returned as Obito donned his customer service mask. As his attention shifted to her question, he unconsciously leaned in, warm and attentive. 

“Please ask away.”

Sakura gestured toward the entranceway. “The ranked pictures by the entrance.” Obito followed her gaze to the wall, where framed photos of the hosts were displayed prominently, each illuminated by a soft, golden light. “How are they decided?”

“By how much they get the customers to spend on drinks,” Obito answered simply.

Sakura recalled the thirty-something pictures of men she passed earlier, each handsome in their own unique way. Confident smiles, artfully tousled hair, and eyes that seemed to follow her even as she walked past. 

“Then shouldn’t it be more random?” She said slowly.

Obito turned to her, his brows lifting slightly. “What do you mean?”

When Sakura struggled to properly voice her thoughts, she finally realized she was way past tipsy. The alcohol had wrapped her mind in a pleasant haze, blurring the edges of her usual sharpness. She lifted a hand to gesture, but the motion came out slow and vaguely theatrical, as if she were trying to trace an idea in the air.

“I just think it’s weird that all the top-ranking hosts are Uchiha men.”

Obito watched her carefully, noting the way her posture leaned, the way her eyes were unfocused but still curious. With how far gone she was, he wondered if she’d even remember this conversation by tomorrow. 

“Do you want to know why?” His voice low and inviting. 

Sakura nodded, slow and heavy-lidded, instinctively leaning in like a moth drawn to flame. There was something almost childlike in her trust, her readiness to believe. As though she were being let in on a secret.

Obito held her gaze, the corner of his mouth curling with something between amusement and certainty.

“It’s because we Uchiha have a power.”

​​Sakura squinted at him, one brow arching in slow, skeptical challenge. “Power?”

Obito nodded, and for some reason, Sakura could’ve sworn his eyes glinted a hypnotic red. The dim, colorful lighting of the club must be playing tricks on her vision, distorting edges and warping reality. She blinked, trying to shake the illusion, but his gaze held her, warm and magnetic in a way that made her pulse skip for reasons she couldn’t quite name.

“Uchiha,” he said, voice low and smooth, “tend to be very good at persuasion.”

For a moment, Sakura forgot to breathe. Then, she blew a raspberry defiantly, a sound both playful and dismissive. “I don’t believe you.”

Obito knew it was a cheap move—she was already tipsy, her guard down—but he lifted her clear glass with a teasing smile anyway, holding it just out in front of her.

“Here,” he said smoothly, “have a sip and I’ll prove it to you.”

Sakura squinted at him, her thoughts catching up a beat too late. She reached for the glass, only to stop short with a small gasp of realization. “Wait, that’s not water—! That doesn’t count!”

Obito laughed, low and warm, unable to hide his amusement at the way she pouted, lips pressed into a wobbling frown of mock betrayal.

“Is that all you Uchiha men do?” She slurred, narrowing her eyes. “Cheat girls out of their money by getting them drunk?”

“Sorry,” Obito said, chuckling as he set her drink down and offered her a cup of water instead. “I couldn’t help it.”

As she took it, her fingers brushed lightly against his. It was barely a graze, but enough to send a tiny spark racing up his spine.

The way she looked at him now, soft-eyed and disarmed, reminded him of that car ride after the talk with Izuna. When she’d been similarly unfiltered, blunt in her honesty, and brimming with quiet curiosity. There was something about her like this that drew him in and made him want to talk with her for hours. 

“It’s more than that, you know?” Obito said, his tone shifting just enough to draw her attention.

“Like what?” Sakura asked, lifting her cup of water to her lips.

“We also observe your body language to gauge the customer’s emotions.” He nodded subtly toward where Ino was engaging with their number one host. Her laughter rang out like chimes above the low murmur of conversation. The sight pulled the corner of Sakura’s lips into a frown she didn’t bother to hide. “Have you noticed how we split up our group conversation?” 

“Yeah,” Sakura replied, her tone tight, “because Shisui was trying to hit on my best friend. Who’s taken, might I remind you.”

“I’m not going to defend his methods,” Obito explained. “But he did that deliberately.”

“Yeah, I know!” Sakura’s expression crinkled into frustration, her nose wrinkled in a way Obito found unreasonably charming.

He shook his head. “No. I mean, he did that because he picked up on your dynamic.”

Sakura’s brows knitted together as she waited for him to continue.

“He saw that with your friend around, you were more protective, more defensive toward us,” Obito explained. He had seen the same pattern earlier with the tout. He had even noticed that  Sakura had let her guard down just a little, right up until Ino started showing interest in him. “But if we separated you two, gave you space? You’d let your guard down. You’d talk more. Maybe even enjoy yourself.”

It was a classic tactic to divide and conquer. Obito had picked up on the cue the moment Shisui suddenly shifted his attention to Ino. As drunk as the blonde was, she seemed to have recognized that, too. 

Even though Obito could tell his cousin hated the idea and only did it begrudgingly, Shisui was still sharp enough to notice that Sakura was most uncomfortable around him. So, without needing to say a word, he stepped back and let Obito take the lead.

“Right…” Sakura drawled, drawing the word out with clear sarcasm, though there was a faint flicker of reluctant acknowledgment in her eyes. “So that whole bit about how we know each other was to calm me down?”

“No,” Obito replied dryly. “That was just him being an unprofessional ass.”

Despite herself, Sakura laughed. She didn’t mean to, but the blunt honesty about his own clansman caught her off guard and it caused pride to swell in Obito

“But for this place to be what it is today, the place where we sell this illusion of attraction,” Obito continued, his voice taking on a reflective tone. “It’s all thanks to Shisui's performance and leadership.”

Sakura leaned in closer, intrigued by his words. “The illusion of attraction,” she echoed. 

A strange twist curled in his stomach when she looked at him like that, like she was trying to decide which of his actions had been part of the act and which hadn’t. Obito felt the urge to reassure her, to tell her he’d not once lied to her. That everything between them had been him, not a role nor a performance. But with the mask he wore tonight, with the title he carried in this place, he couldn’t say that, because that would be a lie.

So instead, he nodded, though the ache to prove himself to her lingered like a weight he couldn’t set down. “People come here looking for something they can’t find elsewhere—connection, admiration, fantasy. Shisui has a way of making them believe it’s real.”

Sakura pondered his words, the realization sinking in. “But won’t the magic be broken when they leave Izanagi?”

“Only if you choose to stop believing,” Obito replied, his eyes never leaving hers. “One text to your nominated host, and we’ll bring the illusion right back to you. Even outside these walls.”

Sakura hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her glass as she weighed her next words. “What kind of service do you offer outside?”

Obito’s brow arched; the question caused his heart to give a subtle jolt, a thrum he felt in his chest and fingertips. He leaned forward. “Are you interested, Sakura-san?” He asked, his voice low and laced with heat. “You can always get a taste with me.”

Obito’s gaze held hers steadily, his eye gleaming with a mix of challenge and invitation. 

It was only now that Sakura realized how close Obito had gotten, encroaching with each subtle movement, shrinking the space between them effortlessly. Her instincts flared, warning her to lean away, to reclaim the breath of air he was stealing. But her fogged mind, sweetened by alcohol and blurred lines, held her in place, mesmerized.

He placed his hands beside her thighs, lowering himself until his eye was level with hers. His presence was overwhelming, caging her in with his large frame. Sakura swallowed hard, her heart galloping in her chest as she tried to suppress the nervousness that was rising in her throat. The club’s lighting carved shadows along the sharp angles of his face, giving him an edge that felt dangerously appealing.

“Our expertise lies in turning fantasies into something more real,” Obito murmured. His voice was low and intimate enough to make her shiver. “I can be anyone you wish me to be.”

Sakura’s senses sharpened, every nerve on edge, as the heat radiating from Obito’s proximity curled around her. The playful banter they had shared moments ago now hung suspended between them.

Obito’s gaze held hers. His expression remained unreadable yet filled with a quiet confidence that both intrigued and unsettled her in equal measure. Her heartbeat was a frantic rhythm in her chest as he leaned in, slow and unhurried. His lips hovered so close to hers that she swore she could almost taste the alcohol he drank earlier, bitter and intense. 

“What’s in your fantasy, Sakura-san?”

Sakura found herself momentarily transfixed, caught in the quiet gravity of Obito’s gaze. There was something hypnotic in the way his dark eye bore into hers, as if trying to read the thoughts she didn’t dare speak aloud. Even his lashes, long and thick, cast delicate shadows against the sharp cut of his cheekbones. The sight struck her with unexpected familiarity.

It reminded her of her roommate, whose sight she’d steal quiet glances in their shared space, her gaze lingering longer than it should. The memory of him flickered through her mind. A flash of dark eyes, of silence heavy with things unsaid. It was that fleeting but poignant reminder of another time and place that ended up snapping her out of it.

Promptly, Sakura leaned away from Obito, the spell between them breaking with a jolt. Her hand moved hastily, almost clumsily, grabbing her bag as if anchoring herself back to reality. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she announced; her voice sounded louder than intended. 

Abruptly, Sakura stood, her balance wavering for a heartbeat. The alcohol and the intensity of the moment churned beneath her skin, leaving her dizzy and breathless. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

Obito’s expression softened imperceptibly. Beneath the cool, unreadable exterior, there was a glint of understanding, maybe even restraint and disappointment. As Sakura hurried away, he called out in the direction of the closest restroom.

A strange mix of relief and lingering curiosity settled in her chest as she moved away. The tension thinned with distance, but it didn’t vanish. The club’s energy crashed back into her senses like a wave. She navigated through the booths, her steps purposeful yet tinged with a sense of urgency.

In the empty restroom, Sakura pressed her back against the cool tile wall, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to steady her racing heartbeat and clear her mind. 

When she finally peeled herself away from the wall and stepped toward the sink, the mirror greeted her with a reflection she barely recognized—flushed cheeks, dilated eyes, and an uncertainty written across her features that hadn’t been there earlier that night.

Sakura took another breath, letting it fill her lungs before exhaling through parted lips, resolving to gather her thoughts before returning to the club’s lively atmosphere. She knew she needed to tread carefully, mindful of the thin line between fantasy and reality that Izanagi blurred so effortlessly.

Meanwhile, the moment she slipped out of view, Obito let out a quiet exhale of his own and dragged a weary hand down his face. The stillness of her absence left a hollow space behind.

Why did he do that? 

Extra, outside services were one thing; host services were meant to stay within the boundaries of playful flirtation within the club, not the kind of intimate physical touch he’d just initiated.

But his rule-breaking aside, Obito really didn’t intend to scare her away. As much as he disliked Shisui—annoying, smug, and too good at his job—at least the man had mastered the art of restraint. Shisui knew just the right moment to pull back, unlike him.

It was becoming painfully clear to Obito that he was too drunk for his own good, his actions and the nauseous feeling serving as stark reminders. In fact, he’d known he needed a break, needed to stop, in fact, when he had gone outside for air earlier in the night. But the moment he spotted her on the street, being harassed by a tout, no less, all thoughts about knowing one's limits and control had vanished in an instant.

Still, he couldn’t shake the image of those bright green eyes looking up at him, wide with what almost seemed like anticipation. 

Would she have accepted me if I had kissed her?

The thought lingered longer than he’d like, tempting him with the possibility of something more than the carefully crafted fantasy he was supposed to create. 

Don’t be stupid, Obito, his mind chastised. You’re a host, nothing more. Even if he tried to justify it as part of the job, he knew better. What he had done was unprofessional; crossing the line into anything physical within the club was a violation of the rules.

Sighing, he signaled to Shisui that he was taking a break, a silent gesture that his cousin barely acknowledged. The man seemed more interested in where Sakura had gone, his eyes tracking the empty space she’d left behind. But Obito was already on his feet, slipping away to the far corner of the club, seeking refuge in the dim, shadowed corridor where prying eyes couldn’t reach him.

Leaning back against the cool, unforgiving wall, he exhaled a heavy breath, his chest tight with a mix of regret and a lingering sense of longing. He knew better than to let his guard down like that, especially with someone like Sakura. Yet, despite all his experience, despite the walls he’d so carefully constructed around himself, he had been drawn into the charged energy between them. It was amateur of him, foolish even, to get swept up by the very fantasy he was supposed to sell. 

As he rubbed his temples, trying to clear the fog of alcohol and tangled emotion, Obito couldn’t help but wonder how differently things might’ve unfolded if only he had chosen his words and his actions with more care. The memory of her retreating figure clung to him, etched in the shadows of his mind.

He cursed under his breath; frustration simmered low in his gut. He had crossed a line, and now he’d have to live with the consequences, whatever they were. But despite his best efforts to push thoughts of Sakura aside, her presence lingered in his mind like an unfinished melody. If only he could drink her away like he did with the rest of his past.

Chapter Text

Sakura didn’t linger in the bathroom, only staying long enough for the cold water she splashed on her face to send a chill biting through her foggy mind. As she tried to sober up, her phone broke the silence with a sharp vibration. 

Sasuke’s message glowed on the screen, his skepticism and confusion palpable through the text as he recounted to her that Naruto had told him some strange girl broke into Ichiraku and kidnapped her. Sakura rolled her eyes but still typed out a quick response, assuring Sasuke that Naruto was just being dramatic and that she was safe, still out with the friend that had apparently “kidnapped” her.

Putting the phone back in her bag, Sakura let out a heavy sigh. She wasn’t in a relationship with anyone, least of all Sasuke. Still, a pang of guilt stabs at her. She couldn’t help but feel like she had betrayed Sasuke somehow, all because she’d let Obito get too close. Close enough that if she hadn’t pulled away when she did, their lips might have touched.

Sakura couldn’t fully blame the alcohol either. She should never have gotten that drunk in the first place. Perhaps it was something in the air here in Izanagi that blurred lines and loosened inhibitions. The fantasy that made it easy to forget who you were and even easier to want something that didn’t belong to you.

Taking a deep breath, Sakura exited the bathroom. From afar, she spotted Ino still chatting animatedly with Shisui, her laughter ringing like bells. Obito, on the other hand, was no longer where she had left him. 

But just as Sakura’s eyes scanned the room, he stumbled past her with his head down and steps uneven, heading toward the staff hallway just beyond the public restroom. The sharpness she’d come to associate with him was gone, dulled under a haze of alcohol and exhaustion.

“Obito-san?” She called out, but he didn’t respond nor acknowledge her. He just rounded the corner and vanished from view. A sharp pang of unease bloomed in her chest, and before she could think twice, she followed.

The heavy door groaned as she pushed it open, revealing the cold, fluorescent-lit space beyond. The staff bathroom was bare and utilitarian compared to the warmly decorated patrons’ restroom. 

Obito was hunched over the toilet, retching violently. His broad shoulders trembled with each heave, his hand gripping the edge of the porcelain like a lifeline. The sound of his gagging echoed harshly off the tiled walls, raw and involuntary.

Sakura froze in the doorway for a moment, torn between giving him the dignity of privacy and rushing to his side. The sight of him, usually so composed, now so vulnerable, made her chest tighten. Quietly, she stepped forward. The soles of her shoes clicked softly against the tile as she closed the distance. She reached out, her hand hovering for a breath before gently settling on his back.

“Are you ok?” Sakura’s voice trembled slightly with worry. 

Obito heaved one more time, the sound tearing from his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the motion quick, almost aggressive.

“Fine,” he bit out hoarsely. The word came sharper than he meant, like a shield raised too late.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he flushed and pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he stumbled toward the sink. The fluorescent light above flickered, casting a harsh glare on his pale, sweaty face as he rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his flushed cheeks.

It was painfully clear that Obito's body was rejecting the liquor, revolting against the sheer, punishing volume he had poured into it. Sakura watched in shock at how nonchalantly the number two host was dealing with it, as if this kind of brutal purge was just another step in his nightly routine.

She had thought his earlier friendliness was unusual, but now it made sense. Beyond the charm and flirtation required of his job, Obito had been far more intoxicated than she’d realized.  

Maybe that explained the lingering look, the reckless closeness, and the almost-kiss. Maybe.

When he finally turned to face her, his expression rearranged itself into that familiar, trained smile. But the gleam that usually lit up his eyes was absent, replaced by a dull, weary look. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Sakura-san,” he said, his voice strained but unfailingly polite. “Please, go back to your booth.”

“But you—” 

Obito had already exited the staff bathroom before she could get another word out, his steps unsteady. Sakura watched as he moved down a small hallway leading to the back staircase, his hand trailing along the wall to keep himself upright. Fearing he might just fall down the stairs in his state, she reluctantly followed him as he pushed open a door, the creak of the hinges echoing in the silence.

She found him slumped on a step of the emergency exit, his head in his hands. The chill of the outside air rushed in through the slightly ajar door beyond, brushing goosebumps along her skin. Slowly, she approached and lowered herself onto the cold steel step beside him, careful to leave space between them, close enough to offer presence, far enough to respect his.

Obito didn’t move at first. He only shifted slightly, just enough to glance over and confirm it was her. Then he let out a deep sigh and turned away again.

“I thought I told you to go back to the booth?” Obito said tiredly. Vulnerability gnawed at him, sharp and unforgiving. Of all people, it had to be her who saw him in this pitiful state.

After a beat, Sakura zipped open her bag, the sound crisp in the quiet stairwell, and pulled out her water bottle. 

“Have some,” she offered.

Obito peeked over, then shook his head. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” His voice was firmer now, a reflexive shield. But his mouth was dry, and the sour burn of bile still clung to the back of his throat.

Sakura insisted, nudging Obito’s forearm with the cool, damp surface of the bottle, the sensation soothing against his overheated skin. Obito hated to admit it, but water sounded really good right now. The taste of stomach acid and digested food in his mouth was unpleasant, and the refreshing touch of the bottle made the offer tempting.

“Fine,” he relented begrudgingly.

Taking the bottle from her, he brought it to his lips and let the cool liquid cascade down his parched throat. Each gulp was a relief, the water revitalizing him from the inside out. A sigh slipped out as he lowered the bottle, the tension in his body easing slightly.

“Thanks,” he said finally, handing the bottle back to her. 

As their fingers brushed, the rough texture of the bandage scraped gently against her skin once more. Her gaze dipped briefly to his hand, lingering there before she looked away, digging into her bag once again. 

“Do you have a headache? I have some painkillers with me.”

Obito could feel the dull ache pulsing behind his eyes, but pride held him back. He’d bothered her with his problems enough, pushed the boundaries of their relationship enough. So he gave a small shake of his head, careful not to worsen the nausea still curled in his stomach.

“No, I’m alright,” he muttered, his voice softer this time.

But the way her frown deepened and how the corners of her lips pressed into a thin line made it painfully clear she wasn’t buying it. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Obito’s gaze flicked to her, a flicker of guilt passing through the weariness in his eye. For all the pride he took in being honest with her, in being different from the rest of his clansmen, he wasn’t any better now. Obito opened his mouth to respond, but she was already speaking again.

“It’s fine if you don’t want help,” she said softly, her voice a mixture of patience and quiet insistence. “But I’m not leaving until you let me patch that up at least.”

She nodded toward his hand, where the bandage had begun to loosen, its edges curling with wear. A faint blotch of crimson had seeped through the gauze, stark against the pale fabric.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to injure himself in this line of work, but he must have been so drunk that he hadn’t felt the sting or treated it properly. Alcohol might have numbed the pain, but it certainly didn’t help the injury heal.

Without a word, Sakura reached out, her palm open between them. Her expression was patient but expectant, the kind of look that said she wouldn’t force him, but she wasn’t going to back down either. Obito didn’t move to meet her halfway. He only stared, his gaze fixed on her open palm as if unsure whether to trust it or pull away. 

Finally, Sakura closed the gap herself. She gently wrapped her hand around his and began to peel away the damp, blood-soaked bandage clinging stubbornly to his bruised skin. Obito didn’t protest or flinch, even as the bloodied adhesive tugged at torn skin. Maybe it was the alcohol numbing his nerves or maybe he’d simply grown too used to the pain.

He watched her intensely, his usually guarded eyes softening with every gentle movement of her hand. As she dabbed the wounds dry with a cotton pad, the antiseptic’s sharp sting clung to the air, blending with the iron tang of blood and the faint, comforting scent of her shampoo.

She applied a clear ointment, her fingers nimble and sure. The light furrow in her brow as she concentrated made Obito’s tense shoulders relax. There it was again, that resemblance. The softness in her voice, the kindness in her touch. They reminded him so vividly of his first love that it almost hurt. Not just in the way she looked, but in her caring nature, in her willingness to reach for someone even as he tried to pull away.

When she finished, she let go of his hand, allowing Obito to admire her work. For a moment, he simply stared at it. The new bandage was secure and neat around his injury.

“How’s your neck?” She asked, tilting her head to catch a glimpse of the old wound beneath his collar.

It took him a second to realize she was referring to their first meeting. Obito shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His hand moved without thinking, fingers brushing the spot where the knife had once grazed his neck.

“Only a nick,” he replied, his voice warmer than before. “It’s long healed.”

Sakura pressed her lips together, her eyes reflecting a mix of remorse and concern. “I’m sorry about that.”

Obito shrugged, the motion casual, almost dismissive. “It was self-defense. I should be the one to apologize.”

Despite knowing that they were even, Sakura couldn’t help but feel guilty for what she had done. Unlike them, she wasn’t a fighter; she healed people, not inflicted injuries. 

Obito, perceptive as always, seemed to sense the shift in her, and he was quick to steer the conversation somewhere lighter.

“Do you carry all of that around all the time?” He asked, a note of curiosity in his voice. 

The report he’d compiled on her background had mentioned she was a medical student. Still, he hadn’t expected her to pull first-aid supplies from her bag like it was an emergency kit strapped to an ambulance. 

Sakura caught his glance and offered a small, sheepish smile as she began organizing the remaining supplies. “My brother can be pretty reckless,” she said with a light shrug. “He injures himself a lot.”

Obito tilted his head slightly. There had been no mention of a sibling in the file.

“You have a brother?” He asked, curiosity flickering behind the neutral calm in his voice.

She shook her head, her smile faltering just a little as a soft flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks. “Sorry, it’s just a habit. He’s a close friend, but I’ve just always considered him a brother.”

Obito nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. He briefly considered asking more about this friend for the sake of keeping her profile accurate. But before he could open his mouth, she spoke again.

“Also, I’m sorry in advance if that’s going to affect your image as a host.” She gestured toward the colorful bandage now wrapped around his finger.

Given that he didn’t bother to hide his face covering while working, Sakura had assumed he was deliberately leaning into the persona of a dangerous and mysterious man. But now, with a neon bandage wrapped around his finger like a child’s sticker prize, that image cracked just a little around the edges.

The bandage was covered in tiny cartoon animals, all grinning ridiculously, completely out of place against the coarse skin of his knuckles and the dark, utilitarian lines of his clothing. A snort escaped him before he could stop it. The sound was rare, more real than he usually allowed himself to be in the presence of others.

It was clear Sakura had gone out of her way to get these cutesy ones, while ordinary bandages were easier to find.

“So you like these kinds of things,” he mused, a faint trace of amusement in his voice.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed, her arms tightening around her bag as if shielding it from judgment. “Can’t I like cute things?” She said, her tone edging defensive. 

Obito chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shook his head. “You didn’t seem like the type.”

She scoffed, lifting her chin with exaggerated indignation. “What do you even know about what I like?”

“From first impressions?” Obito mimed a stabbing motion with his hand. “Knives and such.”

Sakura scoffed again. “You agreed it was self-defense,” she shot back. “And for the record, that pocketknife isn’t even mine. I don’t carry weapons out in public for the fun of it.”

Although Obito didn’t think it was wise for someone like her to walk around with a weapon she clearly wasn’t trained to use, a quiet part of him was relieved. At least she had something to protect herself with.

Her hands had been shaking when she held it to his throat, a clear sign of inexperience, but there was something natural about the way she handled the blade. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she did catch him off guard. He was even more surprised when she attempted to steal the gun away from Shisui. It was obvious she didn’t have a plan, simply bold, foolish courage. She had mentioned her friend was reckless, but she didn’t realize that she was just as daring.

Just like someone.

“What is it?” Sakura’s voice cut gently through the haze of his thoughts, tethering him back to the present. It was only then that he realized he’d been staring while lost in memories. Sakura was watching him closely now, as if trying to decipher the sudden sadness that had crossed his face.

Obito shook his head, as if he could scatter the memories with the motion. “Do you know why Madara is the head of the Kobu?” He asked.

Sakura blinked, visibly caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “No,” she replied cautiously.

“More than any other Uchiha, he’s the most perceptive. The most calculating,” Obito began. “He could read you like a book and then turn the pages himself.” 

His gaze drifted, not looking at her now but somewhere far away. “All your nonverbal cues, all the subtle things. He mirrors them so well that, before you even realize it, you feel safe around him, understood, like you belong.”

Sakura remained still, listening closely. The way Obito described Madara made her think of someone who wielded power not just through strength but through an intricate understanding of people.

But Obito’s tone was not one of admiration or awe. It was a reluctant respect buried under years of disillusionment. Despite being someone who worked closely with Madara, Obito seemed to carry the same bitterness she’d heard in Sasuke’s voice when he mentioned their clan head.

“His wealth allowed him unlimited power to create the kind of illusion that people wanted to see, and many have been swept up by it,” Obito continued, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and unease.

“Why are you telling me this?” Sakura asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Obito averted his gaze. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

He wasn’t lying; he truly didn’t understand why he was divulging this information to her. Maybe it was a warning. Maybe it was guilt.

He had first learned of Sakura through the cold, impersonal lens of a report requested by Madara. He had found it odd how out of place she was in the world Madara operated. No affiliations, no debts, no enemies. No reason to be pulled into anything dark or dangerous. And yet, Madara had taken an interest. That had been enough to put her on Obito’s radar.

He hadn’t cared much about Madara’s personal curiosities before. Obito had always played his role without question. But now, Sakura was becoming a presence he wanted to continue to see in his life, despite the circumstances.

Knowing Sakura wasn’t the type to frequent Izanagi, he realized their paths would likely only cross again under Madara’s orders. But the thought of her being entangled with the Kobu head unsettled him deeply. Even more troubling was the realization that Madara’s interest in her might extend beyond mere fondness. It felt selfish and disloyal to question his leader, but the idea of a normal girl like Sakura being involved with the Kobu disturbed him on a fundamental level.

Obito’s eyes flickered to the floor, lingered there for a heartbeat, then rose to meet hers again.

“Will you meet him again if he asks you to?” Obito asked quietly, his gaze searching her face.

“Madara-sama? Not likely,” Sakura replied with a casual shrug, and Obito tried to ignore the familiar way Sakura referred to their leader. “it’s even less likely that he’d even ask, so I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.”

Obito nodded slowly, but the motion didn’t carry conviction. “Right,” he murmured, his thoughts wandering to the unpredictable nature of their leader. He hoped Sakura was right about this, but with Madara, nothing was out of the question. 

Obito knew better than to dwell. If he let himself overthink, analyze, second-guess, he wouldn’t have survived half the things he’d done. Reflection bred hesitation, and hesitation bred weakness, something with no place in his world. Yet his mind wasn’t following orders. It clung to images and possibilities he didn’t want to see, feeding him worst-case scenarios on an endless loop he couldn’t shut off.

He exhaled quietly, the breath heavy with frustration, and gave a small shake of his head, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts by force. Then, with deliberate, almost weary movements, he rose to his feet. “Let’s get you back before your friend gets worried.”

Finally realizing how long she had been gone, Sakura gave a quiet “Ok.” When Obito reached out to offer his hand, she placed hers in his without hesitation. His palm was warm and rough with old calluses, but his grip was surprisingly gentle as he helped her to her feet. 

The moment she was upright, Obito stepped back, subtly reestablishing the professional distance expected of a host with a client. Without a word, he reached for the door and held it open, a silent gesture for her to pass through. Nodding her thanks, Sakura walked ahead, Obito’s presence trailing just behind her but distant now. The moment they approached the booth, Sakura immediately noticed that Ino had ordered another bottle of liquor.

“Sakura! Where have you been?” Ino called out, her voice soaked in alcohol and half a laugh, her expression a disoriented blend of confusion and relief.

Shisui sat beside her; his usual easygoing charm was stripped away by suspicion and a quiet anger directed squarely at Obito. The playful sparkle that typically danced in his eyes was gone, replaced with a colder, assessing stare. 

Obito met it head-on, unflinching. No words passed between them, but Obito could tell he’d be questioned later. He would like to see Shisui tried. His cousin might be good at coaxing secrets out of people, but Obito hadn’t earned his place as the Oyabun’s right hand by being careless with his tongue.

When Shisui’s eyes shifted to Sakura, the tightness in his shoulders slackened, and the edge in his gaze softened with barely concealed relief. 

For the past half hour, Shisui had been doing damage control. He’d kept Ino distracted, redirecting her growing panic and coaxing her away from the verge of a full-blown scene. The blonde had been ready to tear through the lounge, harassing staff and patrons alike, just to find her friend. Shisui had even dispatched an available host to search for Sakura discreetly, to no avail, only for Sakura to return with Obito, who was supposedly on his break.

“Sorry, Ino, I was um...”

“She got lost,” Obito interjected, coming to Sakura’s rescue. “On her way back from the bathroom, so I went to find her.” He gestured for her to sit, and Sakura gratefully took her place next to her friend.

Shisui’s eyes narrowed slightly, not entirely convinced, though he held his tongue. Whatever suspicion he had was soon drowned by Ino’s drunken relief.

“Sakura! I was so worried!” Ino exclaimed, her voice thick with both alcohol and emotion. She flung her arms around her friend and enveloped her in a warm, clumsy hug.

“Ino!” Sakura laughed despite herself as she tried to keep Ino from toppling them both over. Still, Ino clung to her with the stubborn affection of someone too far gone to care about balance, while Sakura was awkwardly caught between prying Ino off and keeping her from collapsing.

“Okay, okay—careful!” She huffed, trying to gently untangle the persistent arms wrapped around her shoulders. But Ino only redoubled her efforts, her grip slipping but determined.

Finally, with a small groan of exasperation, Sakura managed to capture both of Ino’s wrists and press them firmly into her lap, holding her in place. “I think you’ve had enough,” she said, her voice firm but touched with fondness.

Unable to hug her friend properly, Ino dropped her head onto Sakura’s shoulder instead. “Noo!” she whined, her words slurred from the alcohol on her breath. “We have to keep going! You haven’t even had any fun yet!”

“I actually feel like I’ve had enough fun for more than one night already,” Sakura murmured with a weary sigh, her voice softening as she glanced down at her phone. “We have to go now if we don’t want to miss the last train.”

Ino whined incomprehensibly, her protests drowned out by her drunken state. Sakura knew her friend was beyond reasoning; the party was over for tonight.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Both Obito and Shisui would have offered to drive Sakura and Ino home if liquor wasn’t ninety percent of their blood and patrons weren’t lining up to be served. In the end, they insisted on calling a taxi for the two girls. Shisui, in a display of chivalry, paid for it himself (partly because, despite insisting on paying, Ino couldn’t stay still or focus enough to unlock her phone). 

By the time they were bundled into the backseat of the taxi, Ino had melted against Sakura’s side, her limbs loose and her breath warm with alcohol.

“Sakura…!” She whined, dragging out her name like a child in the middle of a tantrum and a nap, clinging to her friend like a lifeline.

“Seriously, Ino, how much did you drink?” Sakura asked, concern lacing her voice as she adjusted Ino’s rumpled shirt.

“Did Shisui force you to drink?” Sakura asked, regretting the fact that she was not there to prevent it. 

Ino shook her head, though the motion was sluggish and a bit wobbly, like her body was already halfway to sleep. “No,” she slurred, her words loaded with indignation. “That idiotic number 1 host keeps grabbing them out of my hands!” She huffed, her face scrunching into a pout. “His job is to keep my glass full and he can’t even do that!”

Although Sakura didn’t exactly trust Shisui, she weirdly didn’t find what Ino said surprising. Shisui seemed to revel in the chaos he curated, as if the mess he left behind was just part of the experience, but Sakura had never sensed anything malicious behind his antics. If anything, it was a reckless kind of charm that thrived in blurred lines, lines that Shisui was disturbingly good at walking.

What concerned Sakura more was Ino. Unlike her, Ino treated drinking not just as a pastime but, at times, as a practiced part of her side jobs. She knew her limits and took pride in knowing how to ride the edge without tipping over. Even when drunk, Ino was never fully out of control or aimless. So for her to have crossed the line tonight, she suspected her friend likely had a reason.

Sakura tightened her hold around her friend as the taxi bumped gently down the road. “Ino,” she murmured, her voice low and careful, “did something happen?”

“Sakura…!” She whimpered and hugged Sakura even tighter, her words muffled against her friend’s shoulder. “I think Sai is getting bored of me…! Are you going to leave me as well?”

So this was why Ino had been so receptive to Shisui’s advances earlier. She was feeling neglected and unanchored in her relationship and had clung to the idea of a girls’ night out to feel connected and grounded. And instead, Sakura had vanished for most of it.

“I’m always going to be right here for you, Ino,” Sakura said softly, brushing a few strands of hair from her friend’s flushed cheek. “Sai will always be here as well. You know he loves you.”

Though Sakura was trying to reassure Ino, guilt tugged at her for leaving her friends earlier. Still, when it came to Sai, she knew the blunt man was genuinely devoted to Ino. Sakura wouldn’t have accepted him otherwise if she hadn’t witnessed the awkward but genuine ways he tried to show he cared.

“But he’s been acting so weird lately,” Ino continued, her voice small and tinged with worry. “Like, he’s been so quiet and awkward around me.” 

Sakura couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. When had Sai not been awkward around literally anyone? The man couldn’t read the room even if his life depended on it.

“Do you think it’s because of my side jobs?” Ino asked, her voice softening.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Ino,” Sakura reassured firmly. “You know Sai supports and accepts that part of you. If he’s acting weird, it’s probably just Sai being Sai.”

“So I don’t have to quit?” Ino asked, her voice laced with anxious hope. “The money is good but I will do it for him, Sakura; I will!”

“Yes, yes, I believe you,” Sakura said, gently petting Ino’s hair. “But have you actually told him any of this? About how you’re feeling?”

Ino blinked, her brow furrowing like the thought had never once occurred to her. “What? Do I have to?”

Sakura exhaled quietly. Ah, she finally found the crux of the problem. For as much as Ino loved talking and expressing herself, she often forgot that others couldn’t read her mind. She believed that someone who truly cared about her should just know without her using explicit words. Yet, she had chosen to love Sai, who was as literal as they come and often missed the subtle hints Ino dropped for him.

Sakura was certain that Sai knew Ino was trying to tell him something, but he struggled to decipher the meaning and content of those hints. So he took his time, trying to piece things together with all the care of someone who didn’t want to get it wrong. But that same carefulness too easily came across as uncertainty that Ino must have mistaken for a lack of interest.

In other aspects, Sai was sharp and dependable, but with Ino, he was only ever a hopeless fool in love.

“I think Sai just needs a bit of help and patience from you,” Sakura suggested gently.

“Would that make him love me again?” Ino asked with a hint of desperation in her voice.

Sakura reached for Ino’s hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“I can only give advice as an outsider,” she replied honestly. “You’re the one who truly knows what’s going on between you two. But I don’t think you can make someone love you ‘again’ when they haven’t stopped.”

Ino let out a long, contented sigh, her breath warm against Sakura’s neck as she nuzzled in closer. “I love Sai, Sakura,” she mumbled quietly, the alcohol finally shutting down her system. “It’s fun talking with other boys, but they’re not Sai.”

Sakura smiled softly. “I know, Ino,” she said, her voice almost wistful, because it was the same for her. She could acknowledge her attraction to others, the flickers of connection or curiosity, but no one else settled in her heart the way Sasuke did. No one ever had and no one ever would.

“If only there were a host club full of Sai, I’d go bankrupt!” Ino giggled, her voice tinged with tipsy amusement.

Sakura let out a quiet laugh, her shoulders shaking with it. Where on earth is her drunk brain even going right now?

“You’re already dating the man, Ino; he’s yours for free.”

Ino giggled again, her laughter bubbling up with happiness. “I’m so lucky!”

Just then, the taxi rolled to a stop in front of Ino’s apartment complex. Sakura helped her friend out of the car, but Ino stubbornly clung to the open door.

“Ino, you’re here; go inside,” Sakura urged gently.

But Ino seemed distracted, fumbling with her phone. “What time is it?”

“What?” Sakura asked, slightly bewildered.

Ino shoved her phone in Sakura’s face, the screen glowing harshly in the dark. “The number, Sakura, what does it say?”

Sakura steadied Ino’s constantly moving hand long enough to squint at the displayed clock on the screen. It seemed that in exchange for retaining her ability to walk upright, Ino’s drunken mind had sacrificed the far more basic skill of reading numbers.

“Seven past twelve?” 

Before she could say anything else, Ino suddenly lurched forward and threw her arms around her, nearly knocking Sakura off balance. The impact made her stumble back half a step, instinctively catching her friend’s weight.

“Ino, what—?”

“Happy birthday!” Ino cried, laughing freely.

Sakura blinked, stunned for a beat at Ino’s unexpected gesture. In the whirlwind of the night, she hadn’t even realized the date had turned.

A quiet warmth bloomed in her chest, cutting through the fatigue. She’d been feeling a bit disappointed knowing that Ino couldn’t celebrate with her later, but now she understood why Ino had whisked her away the night before her birthday.

“That’s sneaky of you, Ino,” Sakura said, a soft smile curving her lips as she recalled telling Ino about her birthday tradition not long ago.

Ino, still clinging to her like an affectionate barnacle, suddenly pulled back with a fiery glint in her glassy eyes.

“Fuck them boys, Sakura,” she declared, slurring just slightly but full of conviction. “Hoes before hoes!”

Sakura nearly doubled over with laughter. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

“You tell your boyfriend and that Naruto guy,” Ino said, wagging a finger with wobbly authority, “that if they ever hurt you, I’ll make Sai beat them up.”

Sakura snorted at Ino’s attempt to threaten her boys. “You’re not going to do it yourself?” She teased.

“I just did my nails,” Ino replied, raising her hands with a mischievous grin.

“Go inside, Ino. You’re drunk!” Sakura laughed, gently guiding her back toward the building before slipping into the taxi and pulling the door closed behind her.

“And you’re old, Sakura!” Ino called over her shoulder, stumbling a little as she turned, but still flashing a triumphant smirk.

“Drink water and don’t drunk-call Sai!” Sakura shouted through the window as the cab started to roll forward.

“You can’t stop me from doing both!” Ino yelled back, waving enthusiastically as Sakura burst into laughter.

As the car pulled away, Sakura leaned back into the seat, her smile lingering. She wasn’t worried about Ino. Her friend knew how to take care of herself, always had. Though, she might need to give Sai some crash courses on handling Ino sooner rather than later. And as for Naruto, breaking the news to him might be a delicate task.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

What dragged Sakura out of sleep the next morning wasn’t the familiar beep of her alarm clock but the escalating bickering and stomping noises coming from the front door. She groaned softly, but before she could even prop herself up, something heavy landed on top of her.

“Get off of her, idiot!” Sasuke’s voice rang out sharply, laced with a growl of barely contained annoyance and exasperation, but the weight remained.

“Happy birthday, Sakura-chan!”

Naruto’s wide, sunlit smile hovered just above her face, eyes crinkled with delight. His breath smelled faintly of miso and toothpaste. There wasn’t a trace of remorse, just the smug satisfaction of a successful ambush. 

Sakura squinted up at him through sleep-heavy lashes, a dull ache already pulsing behind her eyes. With a tired sigh, she shoved his face to the side, his cheek squishing under her palm as she sat up.

“Kami, Naruto!” She groaned, cradling her head with both hands. “I have a headache. Keep it down, will you?”

“Hey, that’s your fault for ditching me to go who-knows-where with that blonde girl yesterday,” Naruto shot back, his tone turning petulant as he crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks like a sulking child.

“That ‘blonde’ has a name, Naruto,” Sakura replied, irritation tinging her voice. Any plan she might’ve had to deliver the news gently dissolved right that moment. “And I hate to break it to you, but she was the first to wish me a happy birthday.”

“ What?! How could you let this happen?!” He howled, lunging forward and grabbing Sakura by the shoulders, shaking her as if rattling the truth loose. “Are you cheating on me with that blonde, Sakura-chan?!”

Naruto was promptly shoved aside again, but this time by Sasuke. 

“Get off of her and quiet down, idiot. You’re going to get us a noise complaint,” Sasuke muttered, glaring at Naruto.

Naruto rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at Sasuke, dramatically sighing as if the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders. Still, he backed off and retreated to the kitchen, if not to avoid the complaint, then at least to save Sakura’s sanity. 

Without Naruto’s voice filling the room, a hush settled over them. Sasuke stood there, his usual composure wavering now that Sakura’s full attention was on him. Whatever bravado he’d entered with seemed to have slipped away. 

Finally, he swallowed down his nervousness, lowered himself beside her futon, and held out a blue box wrapped neatly with a white bow.

“Happy birthday, Sakura,” he said softly. 

Not expecting to receive anything so early in the morning, all she could do was stare at it for a moment. Then, with a soft inhale, she reached out and took it from him. Their fingers brushed briefly, sending a flicker of warmth up her arm. A strange flutter bloomed in her chest, half curiosity, half something tender and shy. 

Carefully, she untied the bow and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in layers of pale, crinkled tissue, was a small collection of hairpins, hair clips, and ribbons. Her eyes widened as she took them all in—floral designs in soft pinks and whites, dainty bows edged with lace, and tiny blossoms that mirrored the petals of a sakura tree in bloom. 

“You like accessories,” Sasuke murmured, as if the simple explanation needed defending or as if he was unsure whether it had been enough.

He hadn’t meant to overthink it, but of course, he had. He remembered how she’d lingered the longest at the knick-knack and accessories stall during their last amusement park trip, her eyes caught by all the delicate things, which had inspired his birthday gift idea. 

He’d thought of buying her jewelry at first, something elegant and real. But he quickly found his budget couldn’t stretch far enough for the piece he truly wanted to give her, not yet. So Instead, he settled on something more affordable but no less thoughtful. Watching her now, how her eyes shone slightly, how her fingers traced the edges of the hairpin like it was something precious, he felt his initial nervousness melt away.

“How beautiful,” Sakura murmured, almost as if afraid to break the quiet between them. But then a soft, breathy laugh slipped out of her as an image bloomed in her mind: Sasuke, stoic and stone-faced, standing in the middle of a store aisle surrounded by pastel bows, floral clips, and dainty ribbons. She couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he wore the same expression he had when he first discovered the pink, girly aesthetics she had chosen for their apartment.

Then, something nestled deeper in the box caught her eye, a glint of red and white amid the pinks and whites. Her fingers reached in, brushing the tissue aside, and carefully pulled out a single enamel pin. It was a fan, stylized and elegant, the very emblem of Sasuke’s clan that she had seen embroidered on the cuff of the jacket he had gifted her.

Sasuke opened his mouth, seemingly prepared to explain himself. But before a single word could leave him, Sakura moved without hesitation or doubt and pinned it to her shirt. It rested there, rising and falling with each breath, close to where her heart beat strongest. Now she could carry this symbol anywhere.

When she looked back at Sasuke, his gaze was locked on the emblem, a quiet intensity in his eyes. There was something almost proud in the way he looked at it. A faint but unmistakable blush had crept up his cheeks, softening the edges of his usually stoic face with a flush of boyish embarrassment.

His hands were awkwardly tucked behind his back, as if concealing something. But after a heartbeat, he blinked and gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, pulling himself out of whatever daze had momentarily taken hold.

“Itachi also suggested these,” Sasuke said quietly, revealing two boxes. 

Sakura recognized the first one immediately. Anmitsu. It was the familiar pastel packaging she’d seen countless times at the little café she frequented. It struck her then that Sasuke had taken the initiative to learn about her favorite food from Itachi. 

“You talked to him?” She asked softly, her voice catching slightly. Hope flickered beneath her words, cautious but persistent.

The last time she had seen the two brothers together, the tension between them had been overwhelming on that stormy night. The next morning was colder still, filled with awkward glances and a heavy quiet. She’d offered a small, uncertain goodbye to Itachi as she left with Sasuke, unsure if the rift between them had deepened or simply gone unspoken. 

Sasuke glanced away, his eyes flicking to the side. “Yeah,” he said simply.

He offered nothing more, and yet, the single word was enough. Sakura felt a quiet relief uncoil gently in her chest. It meant they were talking. Maybe not easily, maybe not completely, but enough. And that was more of a birthday present for Sakura than anything, almost.

Her lips curved into a small, private smile as her gaze dropped to the second box nestled in the wrapping. It was smaller and more modest than the rest, carefully bound in wax paper and tied with a single, slender ribbon.

Curious, she opened it and found a handful of chocolate cubes inside. They looked similar, too similar to the ones she had given him on Valentine’s day.

“Did you make these, Sasuke-kun?” She asked, eyes lifting to his face with surprise and a little breathless disbelief.

“I… tried,” Sasuke mumbled, his voice so soft Sakura almost missed it. His gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding hers completely.

The cubes were uneven in shape and slightly melted at the corners but charming in their imperfection. The sight of it made her heart warm. 

What Sasuke didn’t disclose was that these were the reciprocal chocolates he couldn’t bring himself to actually make two weeks ago for White Day. So he had finally given them to her now under the guise of her birthday present. 

Without hesitation, Sakura plucked one of the chocolates from the box and popped it into her mouth. The rich, bittersweet flavor melted slowly on her tongue, and with it came a warmth that spread through her chest. Could his gift possibly get any sweeter?

“I love it, Sasuke-kun, thank you,” Sakura said earnestly. She met his eyes with a smile that said more than words ever could. 

Though every part of him itched to avert his eyes, to retreat behind the familiar shield of indifference, Sasuke didn’t—couldn’t—look away. Maybe it was the way she leaned ever so slightly toward him, her body unconsciously drawn in. Maybe it was the subtle curve of her lips, still glistening with melted chocolate, or the gentle flicker of expectancy in her eyes, wide and open. Either way, Sasuke found himself holding his breath, waiting for what, he wasn’t sure. A word, a gesture, maybe just the quiet permission to stay in this softness a little longer. But whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t for Naruto to come crashing back into the moment, barreling in like a gust of wind that blew the warmth right out of the room.

“Check out what I brought, Sakura-chan!” He announced proudly, setting down a large box with a dramatic flourish. “Two-tier red velvet!”

The sudden burst of energy jolted Sakura from her trance. She instinctively pulled back, blinking as if waking from a dream. The moment between her and Sasuke scattered like petals in the wind.

Quickly collecting herself, she leaned in to peer through the clear plastic lid. Inside was a store-bought red velvet cake, the very one she’d passed countless times during her grocery runs, neatly displayed behind the refrigerated glass

“Did you pipe this, Naruto?” Sakura asked, leaning closer to inspect the frosting artwork.

Atop the cake, amidst the slightly smudged generic “Happy Birthday” script, was a whimsical frosting drawing. Though childlike in execution, it depicted Naruto and herself holding hands, both wearing the biggest, most exaggerated grins. Sasuke, however, was entirely missing from the sugary scene. 

No surprise there. 

From the side, Naruto gave a smug little scoff. “Yeah, and I helped the bastard decorate the place too, you know.”

It was then that Sakura noticed the banner and balloons adorning their tiny apartment, all in shades of pink and white.

“You only bought the decorations, idiot. I did most of the work,” Sasuke retorted coolly.

“Hey, I helped blow up the balloons, okay? That’s hard work!” Naruto defended himself, puffing his chest in exaggerated pride.

As her two boys bickered back and forth, Sakura couldn’t help but feel grateful that Ino wasn’t also there to add to the racket. Still, despite the noise, a warm burst of affection bloomed in her chest. 

If she had arrived home after midnight, it meant they had quietly decorated the apartment without her knowing early in the morning. And knowing that neither of them were morning people, she could easily imagine the chaotic scene of Naruto and Sasuke working together in such a cramped space, trying to be quiet no less. Yet, it would seem they had pulled off an impossible scheme and Sakura had never felt luckier to have these two in her life. 

“Sakura-chan, come on!” Naruto’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She looked up to see her boys, who had, miraculously, paused their bickering to address her.

“You didn’t think that was all we had planned, did you?” Naruto grinned mischievously.

Sakura’s gaze shifted to Sasuke. “You should go get dressed,” he added softly. “We’re going to be late.”

Glancing down at the small box of chocolates in her hand, she popped another piece into her mouth, letting the rich sweetness melt on her tongue. Eventually, she’d have to tell Sasuke what happened last night. But for now, she would just celebrate her birthday with the people she loves on this perfect day. 

Chapter Text

Sasuke didn’t take the news of her host club adventure well, not that Sakura had expected anything else. She had even carefully prepared his favorite onigiri and brewed him a cup of soothing green tea. But his expression had tightened the moment she mentioned it, dark eyes narrowing with a sharpness that made her stomach twist. 

She’d tried to recount the night in as much detail as she could, but the truth was, everything after the first rounds of drinks blurred together like watercolor left out in the rain. She remembered Shisui being a nuisance and Obito puking his guts out, and… 

“You followed him to the bathroom alone?!” 

Sasuke’s tone was sharper than any of the scowls he’d worn since she mentioned the host club. His disbelief hung heavier than the earlier irritation at the idea of her and Ino being served drinks by Shisui.

Sakura winced. “I was just worried because he was really drunk.”

Sasuke’s brows drew together, jaw tightening. “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t have followed him! What were you thinking?” His voice cracked with something closer to fear than anger.

“I was thinking,” she said quietly, her voice laced with guilt and a flicker of defiance. “Thinking he might choke on his own puke or pass out cold on a bathroom floor no one would bother to check.”

Sasuke looked like he was about to raise his voice with his lips parted and brow furrowed, but then he stopped himself. His jaw clenched, Sasuke shut his eyes tightly and drew in a long, controlled breath through his nose, like he was fighting disappointment along with frustration.

Like Izuna, Obito was unquestionably loyal to Madara. He followed orders without hesitation, never prying into Madara’s business, never asking why. He was the kind of man who executed commands with precision, not curiosity. And Sasuke was counting on that indifference to extend to Sakura. From what she’d remembered enough to tell him, it didn’t sound like Obito had done anything out of line. That, at least, was a relief that he’d played his part as a host and nothing more. Sasuke just hoped it stayed that way.

After a long pause, he finally shook his head, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Obito is the last person you ever need to be worrying about, Sakura,” he said. “That man’s endured more than most. Being drunk is the least of his problems.”

Sakura nodded slowly as his words sank in. Sasuke always made so much sense when he echoed her words back at her, stripping them of impulse and context until they sounded reckless and dangerous. Sakura hated how different her choices felt in retrospect, how much less justifiable they became when spoken out loud. At the time, it had felt simple and instinctive: someone needed help, and she was there.

But now, replaying it with his voice in her ears, it sounded like something from a cautionary tale. A young woman, barely steady on her own feet, following a drunk man into a tucked-away restroom? It was hardly the kind of situation that evoked trust or reassurance.

And it only sounded worse in light of the street harassment she and Ino had endured just before. It was easy to see how, in Sasuke’s mind, Obito hadn’t saved them. Obito had simply used the situation to lure them into the glittering trap of a host club, all velvet booths and too-sweet cocktails, where pretty words cost more than they seemed and safety was an illusion dressed in cologne.

So as much as she hated being reprimanded and the way his voice could make her feel reckless, Sakura didn’t have a real counter this time. At least not one that held up under the weight of hindsight.

“Sorry I got swept up, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura said, her voice soft with remorse. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”

But Sasuke only shook his head again, the gesture more weary than reprimanding. He didn’t want her apology. He just didn’t want her to keep getting into these risky situations, where he wasn’t there to protect her if anything were to happen, especially if it was because of his family. 

Ino’s spontaneity aside, Sasuke knew he couldn’t push all the blame outward. Part of this was on him. He’d started opening up to Sakura, little by little, about the Kobu and the shadows that came with the name Uchiha. But he hadn’t told her everything. Not about what each of them were capable of, or the things that weren’t his to speak aloud.

Despite understanding Itachi’s reasoning, Sasuke still couldn’t shake the thought that Sakura would be safer the less she knew about them. He’d thought he could shield her without burdening her with all the details. But after years of putting distance between himself and his family, Sasuke wasn’t sure he knew them well enough to predict who might pose a threat and how. More than that, he knew he wasn’t ready to face the reflection staring back at him in all of it. What could he do to protect her right now, while he was still hiding from his own family?

“No more host clubs,” he’d said at last. His voice was almost parental in its quiet authority. It reminded Sakura of her mother in the way it left little room for debate, but was still rooted in concern rather than control. 

Sakura’s lips curved into a relieved smile as she nodded enthusiastically. “Never again! Not even if Ino drags me there!” Her voice held more conviction than she expected. 

She had no intention of setting foot in those establishments again, especially not one run by Shisui. Of all the ways Sasuke could have reacted, and all the consequences she’d imagined for her reckless night, this felt like the lightest burden. Her assurance seemed to ease the rest of the tension coiling in his shoulders

“I’m changing my shifts,” Sasuke added, already pulling out his phone, his tone softening. “We’re going to Ichiraku together from now on.”

Sakura’s eyes widened, surprise blooming bright and warm in her chest. “Really?”

Sasuke nodded, thumbs moving over the screen as he fired off what was likely a message to Naruto. “I’m not risking anything like that happening again.”

He’d never been comfortable with her wandering around Kabukicho so late at night; this only confirmed the worry that had been gnawing at him from the start. Honestly, he should have done this sooner. If he couldn’t control what she did, then at least he could be there next to her when she made her next bad decision.

Contrary to Sasuke’s brooding mood, Sakura felt something bright and giddy flutter to life in her chest. Even though they lived together, any chance to spend time with him outside their usual walls felt like a rare gift. She tried to play it cool, to temper the warmth rising beneath her skin, but the excitement pulsed insistently.

Strange how this didn’t feel like punishment at all, but a reward she shouldn’t get for poor decisions. Was Sasuke (unintentionally) spoiling her a bit? Probably, unknowingly. She sure hoped this didn’t somehow encourage her to be more reckless in the future. 

But the decision had already been made swiftly and she wasn’t about to argue. So here she was, sleeves rolled up, standing in the kitchen. While waiting for Sasuke to finish with his class, she had decided to make dinner for them both before they headed out for their late shift together.

It wasn’t that Sakura disliked Ichiraku ramen. She could appreciate the warmth of a familiar bowl after a long day. But after countless evenings ending in the same salty broth and noodles, she craved something that felt like home rather than habit. She had decided on grilled fish and steamed rice for tonight, with a soup simmering quietly on the stove. 

But the peaceful hush of her kitchen shattered the moment the doorbell rang, its sharp chime cutting through the air and making her flinch. Knowing Sasuke would have just used his keys, Sakura hastily wiped her hand on her apron and rushed to the door to greet whoever guest was on the other side.

As the door opened just a crack, she was met with the unexpected sight of Shisui, his ever-relaxed posture and roguish grin firmly in place. One hand lifted in a lazy wave.

“Hi, Princess, can—”

“No,” Sakura said sharply, her voice icy cold as she immediately moved to shut the door.

But before it could close fully, Shisui’s foot darted out, catching it just in time. The door jolted against the sudden resistance. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sakura growled, bracing herself harder against the door.  “This is trespassing!” 

Her muscles tensed as she shoved, determined to end this ridiculous encounter before it escalated any further. It was too soon for this. She really didn’t want to deal with this after her conversation with Sasuke not long ago.

Shisui winced as the door bit into his foot, the sharp edge pressing hard against the bone. He hadn’t counted on Sakura’s strength when he wedged the door open, so now he shifted his weight with a hiss, barely swallowing a curse, but he didn’t withdraw. The last thing he wanted was to make her angrier, but there was no way he was letting that door close in his face again. At least not before he did what he came to do.

“Wait! Just—wait! Hear me out!” He said, his voice strained but urgent. “Here!”

Before Sakura could react, he pushed something through the narrow gap. Her eyes flicked downward and a cold alarm surged through her chest. 

A gun.

“What the fuck is this?!” Sakura shouted, her heart racing. Shisui should have realized earlier that her reaction was considered normal and legitimate for a normal person to have a gun shoved through the crack of their door.

“Are you threatening me?!” Sakura’s voice cracked with raw disbelief. “Do you want me to call the police? Because I will!”

Shisui opened his mouth, about to point out that calling the cops wouldn’t do much in this situation until he caught himself. Deescalate, idiot, not instigate.

“It’s a peace offering, Princess! A peace offering!” Shisui pleaded desperately from the other side of the door as he waved the gun through the narrow opening. That was when Sakura noticed that he was holding it by the slide, the nozzle pointing away from her apartment.

“What do you want me to do with it?” She asked, her voice tight with suspicion.

“I want you to take it.”

Sakura’s heart raced, conflicting emotions swirling within her. She was unsure whether to trust Shisui or risk calling the authorities, but she reached forward and took the weapon, her grip tightening around the metal. It was unfamiliar and unsettling in her grasp as she pointed it in Shisui’s direction.

As Shisui slowly pushed the door open, Sakura’s pulse quickened. The weight of the gun felt foreign yet strangely empowering. She had never handled a weapon before, her only knowledge gleaned from action movies and crime dramas, but she reasoned it was safer in her hands than Shisui’s.

Shisui stood just beyond the doorway, hands already raised in a show of surrender. The gesture should have been reassuring, but the easy smile playing on his lips only unsettled her further. He looked too collected, as if the tension humming in the air was background noise to him.

Meanwhile, Shisui fought the urge to comment on how adorable Sakura looked in her apron, her fierce grip on the gun only made the image more surreal. If only he had a camera.

“Why did you give me this?” Sakura asked, her voice betraying a mix of curiosity and unease.

“Didn’t you want it that day in the car?” Shisui replied, his tone light but his eyes keenly assessing her reaction.

“Shisui-san,” she warned, but the venom wasn’t really there. Her hands, too, were shaking, the cool metal of the gun’s handle amplifying every flicker of doubt and uncertainty that coursed through her.

“Alright, alright, take it easy, Princess; you need to treat every firearm like it’s loaded, because this one certainly is.” His voice carried that infuriating hint of amusement, light and careless, as if this were some kind of game. It scraped against Sakura’s nerves, already raw with unease. Her fingers tensed involuntarily around the weapon, her heart thudding in her chest like a war drum. 

“Breathe,” Shisui softened, his voice shifting to something gentler, more grounding. “Wrap your non-dominant hand around the grip for stability. Don’t tense your fingers; keep them off the trigger along the side until you're ready to shoot.”

Despite herself, Sakura obeyed. Her hands moved cautiously, almost as if the cold metal in her grip might suddenly pulse with life and escape her control. The knowledge that the gun was actually loaded sharpened all her senses. Slowly, she lowered the muzzle, aiming it carefully at his legs.

“Good job, Princess,” Shisui said, grinning, as if she had done something he had yet told her to do. “Remember, the gun does what you tell it to do, but the bullets don’t always stop where you think they will.” Shisui pointed his thumb behind him.

Sakura, impatient and frustrated with not knowing what Shisui’s intention was, felt the sharp retort burn on her tongue. Even if she didn't get the answer she wanted, she just wanted him out of her apartment. But, as always, Shisui was just a little quicker.

“Don’t worry, Princess, I only came today to talk, and—” very slowly and carefully, Shisui reached behind him to pull out an envelope, “—to give you this.”

“What is it?” Sakura’s voice quivered, her eyes flickering between the envelope and Shisui’s composed expression.

“Can I come in?” Shisui asked with the mischievous glint in his eyes that unsettled Sakura. It was as if he already knew she would say yes. She’s too curious and trusting for her own good.

Sakura hesitated for a long moment before finally nodding slowly. The gun’s presence had given her a strange sense of security, yet she couldn’t shake the unease of what Shisui might reveal. She had the feeling it had something to do with Kobu and possibly Sasuke as well.

So she reluctantly stepped aside and motioned Shisui to enter. The door closed behind them, the sound echoing faintly in the tense silence. And yet, despite the fact that she had just held a loaded gun on him, Shisui still wore that infuriating, effortless smile, as if he were in on some private joke, one she wasn’t invited to.

“What?” Sakura demanded, her voice edged with impatience.

Shisui snickered boyishly. “Nothing, I just thought this would be such a tragic scene for two lovers.”

Sakura rolled her eyes, exasperated by Shisui’s tendency to inject humor into serious moments.

“Have you ever read Romeo and Juliet?” He asked, earning a scoff from Sakura. She has no patience for his meandering small talks right now. 

Although those two characters didn’t have guns pointing at each other, she imagined Shisui found the idea of lovers from opposing sides quite romantic. Sakura also considered herself a romantic, but she wasn’t about to entertain such thoughts, especially not with him.

“If you know how Romeo and Juliet ends, you must know that Romeo died first.” Her words cut through the air like a sudden chill, and Shisui’s playful demeanor faltered just for a heartbeat. 

“And Juliet was the one who killed him.”

“Wow, you’ve got the one-liner down flat, Princess. Ever think of becoming one of us?” Shisui quipped. Though he sensed her seriousness, he was still unable to resist needling her. No matter what Sakura said, Shisui couldn’t help but feel like she would fit right in with Kobu. 

Sakura rolled her eyes so hard she worried they’d get stuck in the back of her head. Shisui had a unique talent for draining her energy with his relentless banter. She’d probably owe him for her next eye exam at this rate.

“Just go sit down,” Sakura said tiredly, surprised when Shisui happily obliged without much protest. 

Why couldn’t he be this agreeable all the time?

Sakura took her seat on the other side of the table, the gun still pointed at Shisui, a silent reminder that trust wasn’t easy to come by.

“Alright, what do you want?” She asked, suspicion sharp in her voice.

“To apologize.”

“Apologize?” She echoed, disbelief tangled with confusion on her face.

Shisui wasn’t sure whether to laugh or frown at the thought that she found the idea so absurd. What kind of reputation had the rest of his clansmen left on her? Probably nothing good.

Shisui nodded. “For being so busy with Ino-chan,” he said coolly, “that you had to waste your time with Obito.”

Sakura fought the urge to roll her eyes once more. “Get out.”

But Shisui didn’t move. If anything, his grin widened. “Where’d you disappear with him, Princess?”

Though his tone remained casual, his eyes were sharp and searching, as if trying to read between the lines of her silence. Sakura’s mind flickered back to that night when she found Obito doubled over, vomiting in the bathroom. She weighed whether to mention it, but uncertainty gnawed at her. What was Shisui planning to do with that information? If Obito was warning her against Madara, who was to say Shisui wasn’t working with the Kobu’s Oyabun?

“I already told you I got lost coming back from the bathroom,” Sakura said, her tone clipped and cool. There was no warmth in it, no attempt to soften the edge.

Shisui didn’t look convinced. His expression was all amusement, but there was a sharp glint in his eyes that didn’t quite match the smile tugging at his lips.

“You and Obito are doing a great job keeping your story straight so far,” he mused, voice light as air but laced with quiet accusation. “Is that really all there is to it?”

She met his gaze without flinching. “Should there be something else?”

“There shouldn’t be, Princess,” Shisui said, his smile still in place, but a flicker of something darker passed through his eyes. He leaned forward and Sakura tightened her grip on the gun pointed at his chest. “I just don’t like the idea of him being alone with you. Not even for a minute.”

Sakura’s brow furrowed as she studied him. Was that it?  

“Since when do you get a say in who I’m alone with?”

Shisui shrugged, letting the silence stretch just long enough to become uncomfortable. “Well, no matter,” he said brightly, as if brushing the subject aside. “We didn’t get a chance to talk just the two of us that night. But I’m here now to spend some quality alone time with you.”

“I don’t—“

“Actually, I had a conversation with Itachi-kun recently,” Shisui cut in smoothly, ignoring her protest. “And guess what I realized?”

Sakura arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“He hadn’t covered all the bases,” Shisui said with a self-satisfied grin, as if that explained everything. “So I figured I’d do us all a favor and give you a few tips, maybe tell you a little story while I’m at it.”

A story?

Her brow knit in confusion. The abrupt shift in tone disoriented her. It was like watching someone change masks mid-sentence. She wasn’t sure what unsettled her more, the turn the conversation had taken or the way Shisui’s eyes never stopped studying her, even when his words wandered. 

She had assumed he was here with some important information related to the Kobu. Now she wasn’t sure if this was a warning, a game, or just… Shisui being Shisui.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Sakura deadpanned, her voice flat, but Shisui was a man on a mission. 

In Madara’s restraint, in Obito’s hesitation, in Izuna’s unexpected initiatives. Something was changing, softening. And disturbingly, impossibly, even within himself, Shisui could feel it—the tug of conscience, the flicker of doubt, the inconvenient pull of something almost like hope.

And Sakura was at the center of it. Whether she realized it or not, she stirred things just by being. Maybe that was what Itachi saw in her, why he wanted her to know the truth. She was going to be involved one way or another. In fact, she had been involved for far longer than she realized. And if she was going to make a choice, it needed to be an informed one, which was how he ended up here, with a gun pointed at him.

“Uchiha Tajima—-“

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Sakura interjected, but Shisui pressed on, determined to make Sakura an unwilling listener. 

“—was only fifteen when he joined the local gang in Hino Village. The youngest ever to be inducted into Uzushio.” His gaze locked on hers, like he was daring her to interrupt again, daring her to turn away now that the match had been struck.

Despite herself, Sakura’s curiosity immediately sharpened. She had heard rumors of them in her childhood, the fearsome Uzushio, a name she never imagined would breach the familiar confines of her hometown. Shisui must have noticed this, too, because he continued on with a small smile on his lips.

“He rose quickly through the ranks,” he said, “becoming second-in-command before he even turned eighteen. Ruthless. Unflinchingly loyal to his Oyabun—Uzumaki Ise.”

The second name landed heavier. Sakura’s brows drew together, her lips parting before the question fully formed.

“Uzumaki?” She echoed, heart beginning to race.

Shisui gave a slow, deliberate nod. “The very same last name as your friend Naruto.”

Her first instinct was to reject it. Reflexive, almost protective. “Naruto is not part of the yakuza,” she said firmly, shaking her head as if to physically dispel the thought.

Shisui raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk lazy but eyes razor-sharp. “Didn’t say he was active. But bloodlines cast long shadows, Princess. Some run from them. Some lean in. His family has deep ties to Uzushio and in turn, Kobu.” He paused, just enough to let the word sink like a stone in her gut. “Whether he likes it or not, that last name carries weight in that world.”

Sakura didn’t respond right away. The words coiled in her chest, heavy and unwelcome.

She thought back to her childhood, the hushed tones people used whenever the Uzumakis were mentioned. Whispers that ranged from reverent to wary, from admiration to suspicion. As a child, what mattered to her was that they were kind. They gave her family food when her mother lost her job. They paid for the old clinic’s roof when it caved in during a summer storm. They smiled at her like she mattered. But power and wealth like that didn’t just come from kindness. There has always been a reason. She just didn’t ask.

“I didn’t know,” she said finally, her voice quieter than she intended. She wasn’t sure if it was an admission or a defense.

“Of course not,” Shisui replied softly, tone void of mockery for once. “You weren’t supposed to.”

He leaned in slightly as he continued. “Uzumaki Ise had a son too young to lead when he passed suddenly. The Oyabun title then fell to Uchiha Tajima. Long dissatisfied with the limited reach and the way things were run, Tajima reshaped the organization, creating the Kobu.”

“Under his leadership, the Kobu shifted their operations to Tokyo and, in less than twenty years, became the largest yakuza group in the country. But Tajima kept his position secret, publicly, no one knew he was the Oyabun, so some continued to assume the Uzushio’s inner circle still holds the reins. Our current leader follows that same pattern, working from the shadows with the same ambition.”

Sakura frowned, piecing it together. “I thought the rumor was that the Kobu had ties to the Uchiha clan?” She asked, recalling Izuna’s words.

“Yes, that’s the most recent version of the story thanks to the police cracking down and the laws tightening,” Shisui said smoothly, smiling almost proudly that she was connecting the dots so quickly.

As his words faded, Sakura felt that familiar, sinking weight of the unsettling knowledge of secrets too heavy to carry.

“Why are you here, Shisui-san?” Her voice was laced with suspicion, eyes narrowing slightly.

Shisui’s tone shifted, light and almost playful. “What do you mean, Princess?”

Sakura clicked her tongue sharply, unimpressed by his feigned innocence. “I’m asking, are you working under someone’s orders right now?”

Shisui scoffed, a short, bitter sound. “I might be repaying a favor, but that doesn’t mean I’m always dancing to those two’s whims.” 

Even without explicitly mentioning any names, Sakura’s mind immediately jumped to Madara and Izuna.

“Then why did you break into my house just to tell me all this?” Sakura pressed, her patience wearing thin.

Shisui straightened in his seat, the faint smile still playing on his lips. “I get why you’d see me as untrustworthy, Princess. But believe me when I say that I’m on your side.”

Sakura’s frown deepened. She hoped he wasn’t talking about the Kobu’s power struggles because she’d made it painfully clear that she wanted no part in that world. The only reason she  sought information in the first place was only to find ways to help Sasuke.

“Also,” Shisui added with a shrug, his tone oddly casual given the weight of his words, “my source in the police told me they’re closer than ever to linking the Kobu with our clan. So, I figured, it might be fun to have you as a prison mate.”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed sharply, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “You’re really something,” she muttered, clearly unimpressed. She knew he was trying to earn her trust, but it felt more like he was enjoying rattling her nerves. Did he not understand the risk? What if the police discovered she was hiding this kind of sensitive information?

“Are you done trying to make me your clan’s accomplice?” She demanded.

Shisui shrugged once more. “I guess that’s it—unless you have follow-up questions. I always welcome excuses to stay with you.”

Sakura’s serious glare seemed to register, because without another word, Shisui rose from the table and strolled toward the door with an easy confidence. Surprised by his nonchalance, she followed close behind. But just as they stepped into the kitchen, Shisui abruptly spun around.

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

Before she could even shout a warning, his leg swept behind hers, sending her tumbling off balance. The world tilted wildly, and just as she braced for impact, strong arms caught her mid-fall and gently lowered her carefully to the floor.

When Sakura blinked open her eyes, Shisui’s face was hovering above hers, his arms caging her in. The scent of his cologne mixed with a hint of sweat from their brief struggle filled her senses, sending a jolt of awareness through her. Heat immediately spreaded across her face and neck at their position.

Reluctantly, she found herself looking straight into his dark eyes, speckled with red. The intensity in his gaze held her captive, a mixture of amusement and something charged that made her heart flutter uncomfortably.

“What were you thinking,” Shisui murmured, his voice low with mock reprimand, “letting a Kobu member into your home, Princess?”

Sakura froze, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone.

“You’re the one who told me to trust you!” Her voice cracked, a mixture of frustration and disbelief bleeding through.

Shisui’s gaze softened momentarily, but the glint in his eyes held a wild edge. “That was after I was already inside,” he said smoothly, his warm breath brushing against her cheek. His eyes glinted with something that didn’t quite reach the smile curling on his lips. 

“You have no idea what kind of people you’re letting in,” he murmured. One of his fingers had found its way into her hair, spinning and playing around with one of her locks. “What they’ll do, what they want.”

Sakura’s fingers clenched tighter around the gun’s cold metal, the hard ridges biting into her skin. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the quiet hum of the room.

“And now,” Shisui’s voice dropped even lower, thick with a dangerous promise that sent a shiver down Sakura’s spine, “you’re stuck in a locked room. With me.”

His dark eyes locked onto hers, letting the silence stretch. “You really shouldn’t let strangers in, especially not one from Kobu.”

Then, with that crooked, infuriating smile curling at the corner of his lips, he added, “Well, except for me. You can make an exception for me.”

Sakura blinked, trying to keep up. His logic looped around itself like a noose and it was starting to make her head spin. “That’s how I got into this situation in the first place!” She snapped, voice laced with frustration and wariness.

Shisui’s smile didn’t waver. If anything, it widened, like her resistance was just another part of the game.

“Don’t worry,” Shisui said, his tone calm with an undercurrent of reassurance. “You’re under a lot of protection right now. Itachi-kun made sure of it.” He gave her a half-smile, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m sure there are plenty of ways for the two of us to pass the time… but I’d be dead if I tried anything.”

Sakura’s eyes snapped into focus. The haze of confusion cleared, burned away by something sharp and furious.

“Good!” She shot back. “‘Cause I currently don’t feel safe with you around!” 

But despite her display of defiance, Shisui seemed unaffected by her temper.

“I’m only taking precautions, Princess,” Shisui said evenly, his eyes locked on hers, unblinking. “It’s always easier to remove the weapon after you’ve neutralized the person holding it.”

Promptly, he moved to reach for the gun, but Sakura jerked her hand back, planting the muzzle firmly against his chest. “Get off of me first.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Shisui, vibrating through the thin metal under her palm. “Here’s a tip, Princess: don’t fight back when you’re dealing with someone from Kobu,” he said, the hint of menace in his tone barely masked by his easy smile.

“Like hell, I won’t,” Sakura retorted defiantly. “You can’t expect me to just do nothing.”

“You would do better calling for help instead.” Shisui pointed a finger at himself and smiled as if he was completely oblivious to the irony in his advice. “Otherwise, I’m going to have a lot more competition than I already do.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sakura’s voice sharpened, confusion twisting into a flare of frustration.

Shisui blinked, feigning surprise, as if the answer should be obvious. “For your affection, Princess. Haven’t you noticed we have a type?”

Sakura’s brow furrowed as her lips dipped into a tight frown. She truly didn’t understand what Shisui was talking about. By ‘we,’ was he referring to himself and Madara? If so, she did not want to continue with this topic of conversation. 

“But on a serious note,” he continued. “That kind of resistance can get you killed, Princess.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, sharp and blazing with defiance. “Stop calling me that.”

“I’ll stop when you start taking my advice,” Shisui said smoothly. With a tilt of his head and a mischievous glint in his dark eye, he added, “Unless, of course, you’d rather be my princess instead?”

The words hung between them, playful yet bold. For a heartbeat, Sakura’s breath caught—not exactly from warmth or affection, but from the sheer audacity in his tone. There was something disarming about how shameless he was, how effortlessly he pushed boundaries like they barely existed, like rules were just suggestions waiting to be bent.

And yet, a faint blush bloomed on Sakura’s cheeks, warmth creeping up her neck before she could stop it, her body betraying her in quiet rebellion even as her mind screamed caution. She hated to admit it, but Shisui was frighteningly good at his side job. That silver tongue of his could wear down even the toughest defenses. His charisma wasn’t just surface-level charm; it seeped beneath the skin, insidious and persistent.

It was easy to see how some women fell for him. Sakura just refused to be one of them.

When Shisui leaned in, eyes glittering with mischievous intent, she caught herself before her heart betrayed her again. Swiftly, she raised a steady hand and pressed it firmly against his chest, stopping him in mid-approach. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm echoed her own pounding pulse, a maddening rhythm that she struggled to ignore.

“Any closer and I break your nose, Shisui-san,” Sakura warned, her voice low and ice-edged, fingers splayed against his chest like a threat coiled in her palm.

Shisui’s smirk deepened, slow and smug. “That’s not as much of a deterrent as you think it is, Princess.” His gaze drifted down to where her hand pressed firmly against him. “You might just make me want to be rough right back.”

Sakura clenched her fist, ready to act, but before she could move, the sharp, unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock cut through the thick silence. The door creaked open, and both of them snapped their heads toward the entrance.

“Hi, Sasuke-kun,” Shisui greeted casually, as if he didn't have his cousin’s roommate pinned to the floor. 

Sasuke froze at the doorway, his sharp eyes narrowing as he processed the absurd scenario before him. His cousin was inexplicably on top of his roommate, who was holding Shisui at gunpoint while wearing an apron. 

For a moment, Sasuke’s mind scrambled to piece it all together until Sakura’s head emerged from beneath Shisui’s frame, her voice surprisingly calm despite the tension. “Welcome back, Sasuke-kun… a little help?”

Sasuke’s jaw tightened, a vein throbbing visibly at his temple as irritation flared. The last time he had heard anything about Shisui, the man had pretended to kidnap his roommate for fun and lured her into his seedy business; and now this chaotic scene greeted him at home? It was like his cousin had a death wish. 

All he wanted was to pummel Shisui until the man crumpled into unconsciousness. The violent urge clawed at his chest like a caged animal, his hands already curling into fists at his sides. But with Sakura's jade eyes boring into him, Sasuke forced the impulse down into the pit of his stomach. So instead, he purposefully strode over, hooked his arms under Shisui’s armpits, and hauled Shisui’s upper body off of his roommate with ease. In one smooth motion, Sasuke locked his hands firmly behind his cousin’s neck, immobilizing his limbs.

“Sakura, switch the safety lock on the side of the gun,” Sasuke instructed coolly.

Sakura quickly did as she was told, her fingers trembling slightly as she manipulated the gun. The moment the click registered was the moment Shisui’s easy arrogance drained from his face, replaced by genuine panic.

“Wait, wait, Sakura-san!” Shisui pleaded urgently. “You should keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction. That means away from people or anything you’re not prepared to shoot at!”

His hands twitched uselessly against Sasuke’s hold, body tensing as if some part of him couldn’t believe she’d actually follow through. 

Sakura had assumed that years in the Kobu had hardened Shisui, that a gun, even one aimed at his chest, wouldn’t even make him flinch. Yet now she realizes he had tricked her from the very start, a realization she very much didn’t appreciate. 

“Sasuke-kun, that gun is loaded!” Shisui exclaimed, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “I swear, I was just trying to get the gun back; nothing else happened!”

Sasuke didn’t even dignify that with a response. His grip on Shisui shifted, tighter for a split second, as if daring him to try anything else. Then, seeing enough remorse, or at least genuine panic, etched into his cousin’s face, Sasuke released him with a deliberate shove. Shisui immediately backed away as Sasuke turned to Sakura and grabbed the gun from her.

“Don’t come back,” Sasuke warned, his voice sharp and final.

Without waiting for a response, he tossed the gun toward Shisui. The older man caught it with both hands, the clink of metal loud in the silence that followed. Shisui’s usual cocky demeanor flickered back into place, but it was strained around the edges now.

“You’re becoming really scary, Sasuke-kun,” Shisui said with a crooked grin, backing toward the door. “Your father would be proud.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed, a sneer tugging at his mouth, but he said nothing.

Shisui lingered just long enough to cast one last glance at Sakura. “Good job asking for help, Princess,” he said with a wink, throwing her a thumbs-up like this had been some kind of team-building exercise instead of a high-stress standoff.

The door clicked shut behind him, and just like that, the apartment was quiet again. Sasuke let out a long breath through his nose, tension bleeding from his frame in a slow exhale. He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the floor for a beat before flicking back to Sakura.

Madara aside, it was people like Shisui—reckless, unpredictable, and too clever for their own good—that made Sasuke reluctant to involve Sakura in this part of his life in the first place. No matter how strong she was, no matter how well she could handle herself, people like Shisui played by no rules but their own. And that kind of danger was impossible to prepare for.

“You okay?” He asked, more softly now, but the concern behind it ran deep.

Sakura nodded, still catching her breath, the aftershocks of adrenaline trembling faintly in her limbs. Her apron, askew and wrinkled from the scuffle, clung awkwardly to her frame, and a stray lock of hair fell into her eyes. She brushed it away, exhaling slowly.

He knew Shisui was relatively harmless when it came to Sakura, or as harmless as a Kobu member could be anyway, but even then, he didn’t like that he never seemed to be able to understand the things that Shisui decided to do. If Itachi hid information from him through secrecy, Shisui did so by distractions. 

“What was that all about?” Sasuke asked Sakura, who was also trying to make sense of what had just happened. Sakura could only shrug, clearly as confused about the situation as he was.

“Did he try anything?” Sasuke pressed further. His gaze swept over her with clinical precision, scanning for the slightest bruise or tear in her clothing.

Sakura shook her head, her pink hair brushing against her cheeks with the motion. “No. We were just talking before… whatever that was.”

Sasuke arched an eyebrow, his skepticism plain. “Talking? About what?”

“A story?” Sakura replied tentatively.

They sat together in the aftermath and for the next half hour, Sakura recounted what Shisui had told her, though she suspected Sasuke was already aware of much of the history. He listened quietly, occasionally nodding or rolling his eyes, particularly at the revelation about Naruto’s last name. Even Sasuke couldn’t deny that now, as Naruto reached adulthood and became the Uzumaki clan’s heir, his words held significant sway within the Kobu. He obviously couldn’t override the Oyabun or the elders, not outright, but he could influence them.

“Did you already know about this, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura asked, her voice soft, searching.

He nodded once, then, before she could ask the next question, he added, “It wasn’t my place to tell you.”

Sakura nodded slowly, trying to digest that. She could understand Sasuke’s reasoning. What she couldn’t understand was why Naruto and Sasuke clashed so constantly when they were both from the same world, likely raised in similar environments.

Sasuke, meanwhile, was quiet. He had an inkling of the reason why Shisui had revealed Naruto’s affiliation to Sakura. The last time he and Naruto had spoken about this, Naruto was still on the edge, still wrestling with whether to support Itachi’s plan. Shisui must have sensed that hesitation somehow. 

And if Naruto wouldn’t commit for the sake of the Uchiha’s future, maybe he’d do it for her. By telling Sakura about Naruto’s ties, Shisui had subtly forced his hand. Ensured that if Sakura became a pawn in the game, Naruto would have no choice but to act.

A cruel kind of strategy. But neither he nor his clanmates were strangers to such ruthless tactics—survival had always demanded it.

“What about Shisui’s claim about his mole in the police?” Sakura asked, pulling Sasuke from the depths of his thoughts.

He met her gaze steadily before nodding. “It’s true.”

Shisui had been operating as something of a double agent for the Kobu, working behind the scenes to pull strings that helped the clan slip past police scrutiny. He orchestrated distractions and planted false leads in investigations, all while quietly gathering insider intelligence.

Sakura looked uncertain, her brow furrowing as she searched Sasuke’s expression. With the way Shisui had been acting, she had half-expected Sasuke to dismiss everything he’d told her as nonsense. But Sasuke hadn’t debunked a single detail, and that only made her even more uneasy. 

She bit her lip. Shisui’s advice seemed to clash with Sasuke’s insistence that she learn to defend herself with a knife, but the question was gnawing at her.

“He told me to ask for help when involved with the Kobu,” Sakura said quietly, almost as if testing the words on her tongue. “Should I be doing that?”

For a moment, Sasuke remained silent, the flicker of surprise passing briefly across his features. Then, though it was begrudging at first, he nodded in reluctant agreement.

“Kobu members often carry concealed weapons,” he said. “Most of the time, calling for help is the smarter choice.”

Sakura’s brow furrowed at Sasuke’s unexpected admission. “Aren’t you the one who always complains about me not bringing a knife onto the street?”

Sasuke nodded, but he refused to meet her gaze or admit the double standard he was applying. He couldn’t bear the thought of Sakura being defenseless, even if Shisui’s advice made more logical sense.

“You can do both, Sakura,” he finally said, slightly annoyed with himself. “Call for help, and if it’s safe, then stab them.”

If it’s safe. Sakura found she did not have the words to argue with such idiotic logic.

“So what do you think?” Sakura asked after a pause. She’d told him everything. Now, all that was left was his judgment.

As much as Sasuke despised Shisui, his cousin had, surprisingly, neither lied nor offered advice that felt off-base. Was he genuinely trying to help? That, in itself, was out of character. Shisui operated by his own set of morals, often bound by favors and agreements, rarely acting without an agenda, even if it appeared as such.

This whole situation bore Itachi’s fingerprint, no doubt. But Sasuke couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Shisui was acting on his own, independently. He could confirm with Itachi later, but knowing his brother, Sasuke doubted he’d get a straight answer.

“I think we can trust him… for now,” Sasuke concluded at last, his voice low and begrudging, as if admitting it cost him something.

“But why do you think he was here in the first place?” Sakura asked, brows pinching with genuine perplexity. “What was the point of telling me all of that?”

Based on what she’d seen, Obito should have been the dark, mysterious type of person. Yet, that man had been nothing if not blunt and straightforward about his intentions. Instead, it was Shisui whose motives remained the enigma.

He told her he wanted her trust but then went and tripped her onto her back. Was he threatening her? Trying to scare her off like Sasuke used to? Warned her like Obito did? Was he calling out the hypocrisy of her friendship with someone so deeply tied to the yakuza she feared?

Sasuke could only shake his head in frustration. Though he suspected Shisui’s motives, he wasn’t certain, and he didn’t want to feed Sakura false information or add to her worries unnecessarily.

He let his gaze wander the apartment as his mind churned with unspoken thoughts, until it caught on something that Sakura hadn’t even noticed. 

“By the way, what’s that?” Sasuke asked, nodding toward a white envelope lying on the table.

Sakura blinked, momentarily surprised. She must have been so caught up in Shisui’s presence that she hadn’t noticed him leaving it behind.

She reached down and picked it up, her brow knitting in curiosity. “Don’t know,” she admitted softly. As her fingers brushed the smooth surface of the envelope, her pulse suddenly picked up again. Could this hold the answer to what Shisui had been trying to tell her?

Sasuke took it from her, his fingers peeling open the flap. He pulled out the contents and spread them across the table. The roommates stared in bewilderment at what appeared to be elaborately decorated coupons for various entertainment establishments Shisui ran in Kabukicho. 

And just like that, Shisui’s ‘well-meaning gift’ shattered any remaining credibility they had briefly attributed to him. Sakura made up her mind then and there that Shisui had visited just to mock her. 

In fact, it was likely she had been reading too deeply into it. Shisui wasn’t like any other Uchiha man she’d met. No, if anything, his unpredictability felt closer to Ino’s spontaneous nature. 

Who was to say his main objective wasn’t to give her his white elephant of a gift while trying to hide it under the guise of giving her more information?

Even before Sasuke could get another word out, Sakura balled up the coupons and tossed them into the trash without a second thought. Her distaste for the man surprised even Sasuke.

The man was still an enigma to Sakura, perhaps, but it wasn’t a mystery she cared to uncover. 

Chapter Text

Sakura could see it in his eyes, the way they lingered on her just a second too long, the subtle clench of his jaw. Sasuke didn’t want her going alone, not after the recent incident with Shisui. But he had class, and she was humming with anticipation, eyes bright, voice light, fingers twitching with eagerness, and Sasuke didn’t have the heart to argue. 

Even if every instinct in him screamed to go with her, there was a line between protecting someone and smothering them. Sasuke couldn’t forbid her from seeing anyone, especially not someone who wasn’t just close to him, but whose presence she clearly enjoyed. So, with a quiet sigh and the kind of restraint that looked like surrender, Sasuke handed her the small pocket knife that she happily accepted.

“Don’t trust everything he says,” he had said while Sakura nodded a little too eagerly. “Let me know if anything happens.”

Sakura nodded again, like a child placating to ease his worry more than absorb the warning.  She doubted she would need to take this much precaution for this little visit. Yet, she tucked the knife into her jacket pocket, feeling the comforting weight of his concern. Anything to put his mind at ease.

The train ride was short, filled with the steady rhythm of tracks humming beneath her feet. When the elevator finally opened with a soft ding, Sakura stepped out into the familiar hallway, the scent of floor polish and faint cologne from someone long gone lingering in the air. Her footsteps echoed gently against the cool tile, the corridor both comfortingly unchanged and eerily quiet.

Each step brought her closer to the door she had stood at twice before. She hesitated only for a moment, heart fluttering like a bird in her chest, before raising her hand to press the bell.

A chime rang out, soft and crystalline, dissolving quickly into silence. Then after a brief moment the door opened, and there he was.

“Itachi-san, good morning!” Sakura said, her voice a touch too bright to mask the nerves beneath it. 

There was something about standing in front of him so composed and unreadably calm, that always made her feel suddenly too naive, too loud, too transparent. Despite being invited, the insecure part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t truly welcome. That this wasn’t a friendly meeting as stated in the unexpected message, but a confrontation for the wedge she feared she’d driven between him and Sasuke.

Her fingers anxiously tangled and untangled with the handle of the paper bag she had brought with her, the motion small but restless. Her mind raced ahead of her mouth, dragging up memories of the last time she saw him. She had rehearsed what to say, but now, with his eyes on her, every word felt clumsy. 

“I know you call me her for a different reason but foremost I just want to say sorry,” she said, barely able to keep her words from tripping over each other in her rush to get them out. “For the way I acted the last time I was here. And I also want to thank you, for always looking out for me, and for having me over today.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them like a held breath. Then Itachi smiled the same quiet smile she remembered. It was the one that always carried more understanding than judgment; One of acceptance and forgiveness. One she hadn’t seen in so long that it sent a soft flutter through her chest as relief swept through her like warmth breaking over cold skin.

Slowly, he shook his head, a soft sigh of gentle resignation laced with amused escaping him. As if he wanted to tell her the apology wasn’t necessary, but didn’t have the heart to dismiss it entirely.

“You haven’t changed much, Sakura-san.” His voice was calm and familiar, like a thread pulling her gently back to steadier ground. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has!” Sakura echoed a little too quickly. Embarrassed by the eagerness in her voice, she glanced away briefly. 

Truthfully, she hadn’t expected to see him again, not after that stormy night that left so much unsaid. Even when Sasuke had mentioned they were speaking again, she hadn’t dared to get her hopes up. And yet, here he was, standing before her with that familiar gentleness in his eyes. As if the stormy, awkward memory between them had already been laid to rest. As if she hadn’t fractured anything at all. As if they could begin again.

Despite everything, Itachi had remained someone she hoped would still have a place in the folds of her life, soft and constant, even if only in the background.

“I’ve missed you.”

Sakura didn’t realize the words had left her mouth until Itachi’s eyes widened just barely, but enough for her to notice. His smile faltered for a heartbeat. As panic flickered across her face, Sakura’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, what I’m trying to say is um…”

But Itachi’s smile returned before Sakura could finish, brighter this time, softening with a hint of amusement that reached his eyes.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he echoed. Though his tone remained light, the words weren’t empty or for her comfort. They were honest in a way that made something in her chest ease just a little.

He had missed her. He missed the way her unguarded presence made it easier for him to lower his own walls; the genuine way she spoke, unfiltered and without pretense, that was a rarity in his world of caution and half-truths; the way her bright smile gave him hope and a sense of purpose that lingered long after she was gone.

He’d known she would accept his invitation; Sakura was nothing if not sincere. But even so, seeing her now, standing in his doorway again after everything that had passed between them, felt strangely surreal. Like the return of something he'd convinced himself he'd already let go of.

After distancing himself to focus entirely on the intricacies of his plan, this moment felt like a breath of air after being too long underwater. He had allowed himself this brief reprieve as a reward for recent progress, a sliver of normalcy amid the chaos. And seeing her again was more grounding than he’d expected. It was the incentive he hadn’t realized he needed.

Still, he was mildly surprised she had come alone. After Shisui’s reckless stunt had spooked both her and Sasuke, Itachi had fully expected his brother to be glued to her side—tense, protective, unwilling to leave anything to chance. 

Perhaps it had been a mistake to give Shisui the creative liberty to deliver the message in his own unpredictable way. That much, Itachi would admit to himself. Shisui had a flair for chaos, and while it often yielded results, Itachi couldn't help but feel a flicker of regret for not reining him in more tightly this time. Things were unfolding in his favor, but that didn’t mean he condoned the methods used to get there.

Given that, Itachi had been fully prepared for Sasuke’s presence today, bracing for his brother’s sharp eyes and clipped words. But it seemed Sasuke had taken his advice to heart. The boy was learning, slowly, to share and to trust, even if only a little.

A small smile tugged at his lips at the thought. Sakura had been a quiet yet remarkable influence on his brother. Her presence had softened edges in Sasuke that Itachi once believed were unchangeable. Looking at her now, Itachi found himself wondering if she had noticed the shift in his brother too. If she realized just how much of it had started with her.

“I brought you something,” Sakura said, her voice laced with a nervous cheerfulness as she extended a small paper bag, its crinkled edges soft from being held too tightly.

“You shouldn’t have.” His tone was more touched than reproachful as he accepted the offering. Peeking inside, he found a box of dango and a smaller package of green tea, the same one he had introduced to her. 

“This was supposed to be my treat,” he added, glancing up with a small, appreciative smile.

“I didn’t want to come empty-handed given your efforts.” Sakura brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. It was a telltale sign of her nerves about how her gift would be received. But her attention quickly moved on, her curiosity sparked behind her eyes even as she tried, and failed, to mask it. “Did you really manage to get it?”

The sudden shift in her demeanor almost made Itachi laugh. Sakura was usually careful and courteous around him, but there were certain topics that caused her to grow careless with her politeness. Aside from his brother, this was one of those exceptions.

“Have I ever lied to you?” He replied, tone teasingly cryptic.

Sakura hesitated, considering whether to answer truthfully or just let it pass as rhetorical. But before she could respond, Itachi let out a soft, knowing chuckle and tilted his head toward the coffee table in the living room.

Sakura entered with a mixture of anticipation and relief, her steps quickening as she spied the famed slice of cake waiting on a plate, pristine and perfect like something out of a dream. But then a voice, edged with surprise, froze her in her tracks.

“It’s you.” 

Sakura’s smile faltered as she turned, her eyes finding Izuna standing in the hallway, the bathroom door still slightly ajar behind him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, eyes narrowed slightly, though his voice hadn’t sharpened into outright hostility, just confusion. He had overheard Itachi mention the name when speaking to someone at the front door, but he hadn’t expected her to be the guest. Seeing Sakura standing there in the living room felt like opening a door to something he wasn’t prepared to face.

Meanwhile, Sakura’s breath caught her eyes locked onto his. A hint of accusation crept into her voice before she could stop it.

“You're… why are you..?”

Izuna’s gaze snapped to Itachi, his expression tightening with confusion that quickly gave way to something sharper.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He demanded, his voice edged with suspicion and barely restrained irritation. Though his words were aimed at Itachi, his eyes kept flicking back to Sakura. He was studying her, measuring her, as if trying to determine whether she was merely a guest or a co-conspirator in something he hadn’t been told.

Sakura couldn’t help but observe Izuna in return. He stood there with that sharp gaze and a posture caught between defensiveness and disbelief. He had a fitted vest over a plain t-shirt, paired with dark, tailored slacks. It was a far cry from the stern man behind a mahogany desk, crisp in a suit and shadowed in formality. 

Now, stripped of that armor, he looked somehow more human, somehow, scarily, even more like Sasuke. It was uncanny, the way certain features overlapped, familiar, yet not entirely. And despite knowing full well he wasn’t her roommate, his presence stirred an unexpected sense of comfort in her, like standing in an unfamiliar room that smelled faintly of home.

“She’s here for the cake,” Itachi replied. His tone was casual enough to make it sound like this was nothing more than an afternoon tea between old friends. His gaze flicked between the two of them, perfectly composed, as if he hadn’t just dropped them both into the middle of an ambush.

As Sakura glanced from Izuna back to Itachi, a strange sense of déjà vu settled over her. It dawned on her then that she wasn’t the only one lured here by Itachi. Sasuke was right, perhaps she was naive to think Itachi had simply invited her over for a slice of the city-famous cheesecake. 

She just hadn’t expected Itachi to pull the same maneuver on someone he was working so closely with to dismantle the Kobu, especially not when trust between them was supposed to be absolute. But then again, Itachi had done the same thing to his own brother.

“So it’s not for me?” Izuna questioned, pointing a finger accusingly at the plate. On the side, Sakura raised an eyebrow in bemusement.

“There’s enough to go around,” Itachi reassured, his tone light and placating. Sakura meanwhile, was occupied with a piece of detail.

“Don’t you dislike most sweets?” She asked, turning toward Izuna with a curious tilt of her head as she tried to place the contradiction.

“What are you talking about?” Izuna replied, exchanging a puzzled glance with Itachi.

That was when Sakura’s hand flew to her mouth in a flash of realization. She had mistaken Sasuke’s well-known dislike for sweets with Izuna’s preference. The resemblance between their faces was certainly playing tricks on her associative memory. 

Now this is just perfect, she thought, heat crept up her neck. She should leave now before she embarrasses herself further. 

“You obviously have company, Itachi-san,” she said quickly, the politeness in her voice strained, already stepping back toward the door. “I’ll come back another time.”

But before she could turn away, Itachi’s voice cut in. “Are you sure you want to leave before at least trying the cake?”

His gaze held hers, calm but insistent, as if he knew exactly what strings to pull.

From the sidelines, Izuna scoffed audibly. With a roll of his eyes, he crossed the room and dropped onto the couch beside Itachi, folding his arms like a spectator settling in to witness a train wreck in slow motion.

Seriously? Cake? That was Itachi’s grand strategy? Baiting the pink-haired hurricane with such a mundane offer like a dessert, as if she were some easily placated child?

Izuna’s gaze shifted to her, half-expecting her to walk out the door. There was no way this violent and cunning girl could be swayed by a mere slice of cake. After all, this was the same girl who had dared to confront Shisui and Obito single-handedly. Sweet pastries were hardly a worthy bribe. Yet to his astonishment, Sakura had still.

Her eyes lingered, no, fixated, on the plate. The slice of cheesecake sat on the coffee table like a beacon, its creamy top catching the light just right. When Itachi gently nudged the plate forward, the cake gave the faintest, quivering jiggle, and Sakura’s breath caught. A soft, warm sweetness of vanilla rifted into the air and her stomach betrayed her with a shameful growl.

Izuna watched the subtle shift in her posture, the flicker of internal conflict play across her face.
Unbelievable, he thought in disbelief. She’s actually considering it.

“This one just came out of the oven,” Itachi murmured, voice like silk. “I requested that the owner make it especially rich.”

Sakura didn’t even realize she was leaning forward until the scent pulled her another step closer, like a thread gently tugging her toward surrender. She hovered on the edge of refusal, until Itachi calmly patted the cushion beside him. Reflexively, she obeyed, sinking into the soft couch as Itachi handed her a spoon along with the plate of cake.

Mouth agape, Izuna stared, caught somewhere between disbelief and mild offense. The expression remained firmly planted on his face, even as Itachi handed him his own plate. Izuna ate the cake without a word, more out of reflex than desire.

Izuna couldn’t help but contrast the woman seated in front of him now, eyes soft and posture relaxed, to the determined and formidable young woman he had encountered in his office.

While he had to negotiate all kinds of deals—all of them were in his favor, of course—just to keep her seated, all it took Itachi was one slide of cake, a look, and suddenly she was tucked into his couch like she belonged there. How was it that she was so easily swayed by dessert? Or was it even about the cake?

Sakura let out a soft, near-heavenly sigh as the first bite touched her tongue, the creamy texture melting with buttery ease. A whisper of vanilla and something citrusy lingered on her palate. She’d thought she might never taste it again, not with how quickly the shop always sold out.

Izuna’s brow furrowed as he watched her. The cake was good, sure, but no pastry in the world should be able to explain the way she smiled just then at Itachi.

“How is it?” Itachi asked, the faintest flicker of amusement curling at the edge of his lips as he watched her face transform with that first blissful bite.

Sakura’s eyes fluttered open, her expression nothing short of euphoric. “Even better than I imagined,” she breathed, her words laced with genuine delight. Another spoonful vanished, followed by a soft hum of approval. “It’s so good I could marry you, Itachi-san. Thank you!”

The words slipped out before she could rein them in—half a joke, half an unfiltered rush of emotion. As soon as they left her mouth, she froze, eyes flicking toward Itachi with a sheepish smile.

Izuna’s eyes widened in astonishment, visibly thrown by the casual, teasing affection in her voice. Did she really just say that?

But Itachi remained unfazed. If anything, his smile deepened, low laughter rumbling softly from his chest. “Though I appreciate your gratitude, I don’t think my brother would like that very much.”

Seeing as Itachi was playing along, Sakura visibly relaxed, glad that their dynamic hadn’t soured. “Just give him time, Itachi-san,” Sakura quipped with a grin. “He’ll learn to share eventually.”

Despite knowing Sakura had misinterpreted his words, Itachi returned her smile. Izuna, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel perplexed as he observed their interaction. 

Just what the hell is this? He wondered, incredulous. Since when is the girl who tried to flip my desk laughing on the couch and flirting with Itachi over cheesecake?

“What do you think, Izuna?” Itachi’s voice cut cleanly through the fog of Izuna’s thoughts, reeling him back to the conversation.

“About what?” He asked, blinking as if surfacing from deep water.

“The cake,” his cousin clarified.

“Oh.” A touch of embarrassment coloring his tone as he realized he had drifted away from the conversation. “It’s really good… I suppose,” he added, his tone nonchalant, but the pause gave him away. 

The truth was, the cake was excellent, rich and indulgent with a balance of sweetness that lingered pleasantly on the tongue. But Izuna’s mind wasn’t on the dessert. It was on the way that Itachi's gaze softened when Sakura laughed. On the way she leaned a little closer than necessary, and how Itachi didn’t seem to mind at all.

On Itachi’s other side, Sakura studied Izuna in turn. 

“He might not look like it, but Izuna also has a sweet tooth,” Itachi offered smoothly, as if he’d plucked the thought straight from her mind. 

Nodding slowly, Sakura hummed a low tone of respect as if the description lent Izuna a modicum of legitimacy, momentarily easing her defensive stance. Perhaps she was being overly suspicious. Izuna’s presence could simply be innocent enjoyment of the desert. Yet, she couldn’t shake off her skepticism completely, especially knowing that Itachi worked closely with Izuna. 

Her gaze flickered between him and Itachi, watching for any flicker of silent communication. Despite her attempts to rationalize Izuna’s presence, a small seed of doubt persisted in her mind. 

What are they planning? Or perhaps, what was the significance of Izuna’s presence?

“Are we still waiting for someone else, Itachi-san?” Sakura asked, her gaze settling on the last untouched spoon neatly placed beside the remaining cake. She’d noticed it earlier but now it stood out like a deliberate marker. With Itachi, nothing was ever accidental. He wasn’t the kind of man to miscount.

Itachi smiled at her like he could sense the quiet skepticism threading her thoughts. “I actually prepared it for Sasuke,” Itachi replied as he took a polite bite of his own slide. “But perhaps I should have invited someone else if he couldn’t come.”

“Like who?” Sakura asked, arching a brow. From what she’d seen, the Uchiha clan wasn’t exactly a warm gathering of dessert lovers. In her mind, Itachi stood as the notable exception.

“Shisui enjoys sweets from time to time,” Itachi offered.

“But I’m sure he must be too busy for this,” Sakura interjected quickly, her laugh a little too quick and forced. She waved her hand dismissively, trying to gloss over the spike of unease that rose at the mere mention of him. The last thing she wanted was to navigate Shisui’s theatrical charm today.

As always, Itachi was keenly aware of the subtle shift in Sakura’s tone. So instead of pressing, he simply smiled—gentle, knowing, and amused all at once.

“You’re right,” he said. “It will probably be hard for him to find the time.” 

Izuna had intended to point out the lie, but he was interrupted when Itachi let out a soft chuckle. Next to him, Sakura exhaled softly, tension easing from her shoulders. All Izuna could do was continue to silently watch them, but when the two of them seemed to be exchanging a silent conversation behind their smiles, Izuna’s gaze sharpened with increasing impatience. Unable to hold back any longer, Izuna turned toward his cousin, his voice edged with thinly veiled irritation.

“Did you really call me over just for this cake party, Itachi?” Izuna asked. There was a bite in his words now, a strain of something personal. The familiar atmosphere between his cousin and this girl was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Are you not enjoying it?” Itachi countered calmly.

“I know you know that’s not the point,” Izuna snapped, the restraint in his voice slipping further. “And I’m sure Haruno-san would also like to know the real reason you called us both here.”

Itachi turned his gaze toward Sakura. She sat still, spoon cradled gently between her fingers. But there was a mixture of cautious recognition and quiet wariness in her eyes. Izuna had voiced what she dared not say, and for once, she was agreeing with him.

A soft, almost reluctant sigh escaped Itachi’s lips. Izuna’s bluntness was steering the conversation toward the heart of the matter far sooner than Itachi had intended. He had hoped the cheesecake would ease the tension and smooth the transition. But with Izuna’s impatience clear and Sakura’s quiet acceptance hanging in the air like a truce, delaying any longer felt pointless.

“Very well,” Itachi began, his voice shedding its earlier casual lightness to adopt a more serious tone. “I actually called you over today to do what we talked about over the phone.”

Sakura’s gaze sharpened with curiosity as she caught the sudden shift in both Itachi and Izuna’s demeanor. Izuna’s expression darkened, his lips curling into a thin line of unamused hesitation. His gaze locked briefly with her before he turned back to Itachi.

“Right now?” The Kobu second-in-command grumbled, his tone carrying the stubbornness resembled that of a child being forced into something unpleasant.

“Why else would Sakura-san be here?” Itachi countered calmly, his dark eyes flickering between her and Izuna with quiet insistence.

Sakura’s senses sharpened at the sound of her name, watching the subtle, charged exchange of glances between the two men.

After a few long, taut seconds, Izuna grumbled his reluctant acceptance, the stubborn set of his jaw softening just enough to betray a flicker of resignation.

“Fine.”

As if on cue, Itachi’s phone buzzed sharply against the coffee table top, slicing through the silence. He spared Sakura a quick, reassuring glance, His lips moved silently in a comforting whisper, don’t worry, before he stepped into the kitchen to take the call.

Suddenly, Sakura found herself alone with Izuna, the atmosphere thickening between them like the heavy press of an impending storm. She shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of Izuna’s penetrating gaze fixed upon her. His expression was a mix of grumpiness and skepticism, mirroring her own defensive stance.

“W-what?” Sakura asked, her voice slightly shaky as the silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant murmur of Itachi’s voice in the kitchen. Her heart raced, her palms growing clammy as she braced herself for what was about to unfold.

Izuna’s usual hardened mask softened just enough as he drew a deep, steadying breath. His eyes flickered with a rare mix of vulnerability and embarrassment. “Haruno-san,” he began quietly, “I want to offer an apology…for kidnapping you, and for dragging you into our plan during our last meeting.”

His words hung heavily in the air, mingling with the lingering tension that still clung to the room like a stubborn fog. Sakura’s chest tightened with a swirl of surprise and unexpected relief. All this build up for an apology? Yet an admission like this was far from what she’d anticipated. Why was it that she always expected the worst from him?

Izuna waited patiently, observing Sakura as she glanced down briefly. When her eyes finally met his again, the words that slipped from her lips were anything but expected.

“Is that it?”

“What?” Izuna asked, genuinely dumbfounded by her response. The fact that he, the Kobu’s second-in-command, had to bow his head and apologize to her was already a blow to his pride. But not only did she refuse to accept it, she demanded more. Confusion flickered in his dark eyes, quickly followed by a sharp edge of frustration as he struggled to process her unexpected boldness.

He had felt a twinge of remorse for how she had been caught up in their affairs, but he had already dealt with Shisui. He couldn’t understand why Itachi was making him endure this awkwardness for proposing what he, in his mind, believed to be a perfectly reasonable plan of distraction.

“What about an apology for threatening me?” Sakura asked as she sat straighter, meeting Izuna’s gaze squarely.

His expression hardened, the last trace of civility slipping away. “When have I done that?” He snapped, dropping any pretense of politeness. 

Sakura bristled at the sudden sharpness in Izuna’s tone, her shoulders stiffening as a flare of indignation rose in her chest. “You literally said I should be ‘taken care of’ for knowing too much about the Kobu!”

“You’re twisting my words,” Izuna retorted, his frustration threatening to boil over.

“That’s bullshit!” Sakura shot back, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and defiance that matched his own. Izuna couldn’t help but wonder if there was also a hint of excitement in her demeanor, a spark of adrenaline that mirrored his own.

There she was, the same determined girl he had encountered in his office. He could imagine her displaying this same defiance during her escort, matching Shisui’s description of the events. So then how was it that she confronted him with such fire, yet stood before Itachi with quiet deference?

He silently hoped that Itachi’s calming presence would be enough to prevent her from flipping the fragile coffee table between them.

“I didn’t mean you’d be killed off,” Izuna said at last, waving a hand dismissively, his tone condescending as if he were correcting a stubborn child. “For people like you with close ties to a Kobu member, it’s more likely you’d be forced to marry into the clan.”

Sakura blinked, her brain struggling to process what she had just heard. Her heart kicked in her chest, fast and angry. The faint hum of the air conditioner seemed to grow louder in the stillness that followed. 

“And you think that would buy my silence?” She asked, her voice trembling with equal parts defiance and anxiety. 

Izuna shrugged casually, though his eyes didn’t waver. “The person who revealed the information would be the one responsible for keeping you quiet for the rest of both your lives,” he said flatly. “Marriage just simplifies that equation.”

Sakura’s stomach turned at his words. That person would be Sasuke, the thought hit her with a sudden, sharp pang. But that wasn’t how she would want to stay by his side. She didn’t want to be bound to him like a shameful burden. But no, Izuna’s goal wasn’t to silence her through Sasuke, that, in fact, would go against what he had planned for her the last time they talked.

“The police will also follow up on any tip about the Kobu. A connection such as a spouse is enough to get you labeled an accomplice whether or not you talked.”

A chill traced its way down Sakura’s spine at Izuna’s matter-of-fact explanation. The cold detachment in his voice left her unsettled and uncertain how to respond. Suddenly, Sakura felt a flicker of reassurance knowing Shisui had some pull within the police.

“So this is what you were planning?” She asked at last, her voice thin but steady enough to carry the accusation. “Blackmailing me to marry me off to your brother?”

Izuna scoffed, the corner of his mouth curling with a hint of amusement that only added fuel to her simmering irritation. “You’re not going to be marrying my brother, in that case, or any case, Haruno-san,” he said, voice tinged with a kind of smug finality.

Relief hit her first, sharp and fast. But it was quickly followed by a rising frustration. The way he dismissed the idea so confidently stirred something bitter inside her. Her shoulders dropped slightly, but her arms crossed tightly over her chest in a defensive knot.

What’s with the snotty, superior attitude?

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to slap him or thank him. Maybe both.

“You’re the one who keeps annoying me about dating your brother,” Sakura shot back, her voice sharp with indignation.

“Dating, yes,” Izuna replied evenly, unbothered by her tone. “But not marriage. That would be too much of a risk for him.”

Izuna knew this was specifically true in Sakura’s case, especially with her lack of interest in supporting the workings of the Kobu or the Uchiha Corporation. If the Oyabun’s wife couldn’t fulfill her role, she would only be a liability for others to exploit.

“Besides,” he continued coolly, “you’re not from the main family or high-profile bloodline. Low-profile outsiders like you are only allowed to marry a branch member.”

The words hit her harder than they should have as a leaden silence settled in her chest, heavy and bitter. She had always known that she would be a chess piece, a porcelain plaything, dressed up and placed precisely where they needed her. If she had taken Izuna’s deal, she would be a hina doll, polished and smiling, posed to entertain Madara from behind glass. Yet that thought wasn’t made something wilt inside her.

“You guys have rules about who you can and can’t marry?” She asked quietly, her voice tinged with disbelief and a note of sorrow that slipped past her defenses. She didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to her before that Sasuke would be shackled by these same invisible chains, especially when his childhood was shaped by restrictions. 

It had always been her own selfish dream to live happily with him. But if Sasuke had loved someone else, she would have supported him. Truly, she had loved him enough for that. But what if he had fallen in love with someone from the main family? Would he have been forbidden from marrying them? Was love something the clan allowed only within the lines of its hierarchy?

“Marriage has always been about gaining power,” Izuna replied, unbothered, calm, and clinical. “When a branch-family girl marries into the main house, the benefits flow upward—assets, loyalty, influence. The same doesn’t apply in reverse. If a main house girl were to marry into the branch, those benefits are essentially lost.”

Sakura’s thoughts raced at the implication. This was a system built to consolidate power and protect the hierarchy from within. Love, compatibility, personal choice—none of it mattered, not in the face of bloodlines and legacy.

Sakura knew Sasuke had mentioned that branch members weren’t as entangled in Kobu affairs. Perhaps this explained why they could more easily marry outsiders and blend into the world beyond the clan. 

What struck her hardest wasn’t just the rule, but the quiet arrogance beneath it. The unspoken assumption that main family members were too valuable to be “wasted” on those beneath their station. It churned her stomach.

“That is so outdated,” Sakura said sharply, the words slipping from her lips before she could temper them.

“It’s tradition,” Izuna replied without missing a beat, like it was self-evident, like it excused everything.

Sakura’s hands curled into fists in her lap, her irritation mounting with every word that passed from Izuna’s mouth. His calm acceptance of such archaic, suffocating traditions felt like a slap in the face. She couldn’t understand how people so powerful, so intelligent, could still let themselves be ruled by the cold hands of the past. How could they talk about building a future while dragging centuries-old chains behind them?

She let out a breath, like steam trapped in a kettle about to boil over. Sasuke’s life had been tightly dictated by his father’s iron grip, and even now, the invisible chains of tradition still threatened to shackle his freedom in love and marriage. The thought tightened a knot of frustration deep in her chest.

“Well, traditions aren’t always right,” Sakura snapped, lifting her chin defiantly. Her gaze locked with Izuna’s. “Don’t you want to make your own choices? Or are you seriously going to let some old men peer-pressure you into doing this later in life, too?”

A flicker of something dark crossed Izuna’s face. The vein at his temple twitched, visible against the taut skin of his brow. The disrespect of this girl!

“Right or wrong, it’s what ensures the clan’s stability and legacy,” Izuna repeated firmly, his voice tinged with a desperate edge as if he was trying to convince himself more than her. “An outsider like you could never understand. Sacrifices have always been made for the sake of the clan and the organization!”

Sakura met his words head-on. Adrenaline ignited a fierce spark as she pushed back. “But that’s not what you’re working toward with Itachi-san, is it? If your ultimate goal is to disband Kobu, why do these rules still hold so much power?”

Izuna felt Sakura’s words like a weight on his chest. His throat tightening as he wrestled with the contradictions he had long suppressed, struggling to find a response. 

She was right. How had he become so entangled in the very traditions he sought to dismantle?

He was fighting against the tradition for Kobu members to have a choice of reentering mainstream society. He thought he was above it all, but he had chosen to use the repressive tradition as a shield, a justification for his outdated belief the moment he was exposed to another view. It wasn’t until now that he realized how deeply those customs had woven themselves into his core, shaping him even as he worked tirelessly to dismantle the very structure that housed them.

“What’s with all the yelling?” Itachi’s calm voice suddenly cut through the charged atmosphere, prompting both Sakura and Izuna to turn toward him. 

Sakura’s jaw tightened, the simmering anger still flickering behind her eyes despite her effort to keep it hidden. Izuna frowned, catching the subtle shift in her expression and the sudden restraint that fell over her like a veil.

“Nothing, Itachi-san. Don’t worry about it,” Sakura replied, her voice clipped, though the frustration beneath her carefully controlled words was unmistakable.

She was yelling at him just fine moments ago, but now around Itachi, she clams up. This girl always acted differently in his presence.

Itachi’s gaze moved between them. The air still buzzed faintly with the remnants of raised voices, and he could feel the silence stretching. Neither Sakura nor Izuna would look at the other, their averted eyes speaking louder than any outburst.

“Did you not apologize properly, Izuna?” Itachi asked, his tone expectant as he turned toward his cousin.

Izuna scoffed, incredulous. “Why do you automatically assume I’m the problem?” He snapped. His eyes narrowed, not just at Itachi, but at the quiet girl beside him who now seemed to be playing the victim. 

Why is it that she always gets the benefit of the doubt? Even for his own blood to choose an outsider over him!

Sakura glanced at Itachi briefly, noting his subtle concern. She bit her lip, debating with the urge to explain the true nature of their argument. 

Across from her, Izuna met her gaze again, defiant and expectant. He was daring her to say something, or maybe he was curious, she couldn’t quite tell.

The silence hovered again, tense and unresolved, until Itachi sighed defeatedly, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “It’s not a hard task, Izuna. I can’t be sitting here all day chaperoning you two.”

Izuna straightened. “Wait, are you leaving?” He asked, an unusual flicker of urgency leaking into his voice.

Itachi nodded solemnly. “I’ve been summoned by the elders.”

Izuna opened his mouth, already standing to follow. “Then I’ll come as well. I need to speak with Kag—”

“No,” Itachi cut him off firmly. “You haven’t done what you said you'd do. You’re not leaving my apartment until you complete the task.”

Izuna froze mid-step, his jaw tightening in protest but ultimately saying nothing. Sakura, seizing the moment as the shift in power settled uncomfortably in the room, spoke up softly. “Actually, Itachi-san, I think I’ll head out—”

“You too, Sakura-san,” Itachi interjected smoothly. His hand moved deliberately, fingers brushing the strands of her hair before resting gently on the top of her head. “I’d prefer if you stayed until this conversation was properly resolved.”

The touch was feather-light, almost affectionate, but it made her whole body stiffened. “Who will Izuna apologize to if you’re not here?” Itachi added, his tone almost playful. “Besides, there’s still half of the cheesecake left for you.”

So be good, she could almost hear him say. 

Izuna watched in fascination as Sakura visibly flinched. It was just the barest shudder, but he caught it, and he was sure Itachi did too. Her expression wavered, confusion flickering behind her eyes as she tried to make sense of her own reaction to what sounded like a threat, even when she was equally unsure what Itachi was threatening her with. 

A strange mix of satisfaction and confusion stirred within Izuna at the sight. He had always seen her as fiercely defiant, almost infuriatingly resilient. Seeing this vulnerability, this crack in her seemingly impenetrable facade, evoked a disconcerting sense of triumph. So she does feel fear after all.

But the thought didn’t get to settle. It dissolved the moment Itachi turned his gaze on him— direct and leaving no room for misinterpretation.

“I expect her to be safely back home afterward, Izuna.” At any cost, Izuna could hear them clearly in the weight of Itachi’s gaze.

Izuna bit back the urge to roll his eyes, irritation prickling beneath his skin. What is he, her boyfriend? Her keeper? Why was he suddenly responsible for her well-being? It was absurd, and yet, Izuna let out a grunt of acknowledgement. The sound low and reluctant, but was enough to pass for agreement.

Itachi glanced at Sakura one last time, giving her one of his reassurance smiles that she couldn’t quite return this time, before turning. When the front door clicked shut behind him with a soft finality, the apartment fell into a silence that felt almost suffocating. Izuna and Sakura eyed each other warily across the room, neither quite willing to break the tense stillness that had enveloped the whole apartment. 

Sakura could still feel the ghost of Itachi’s hand on her head, a phantom pressure that made her scalp prickle, reminding her of her current predicament. She knew better than to go against Itachi’s words, yet she really didn’t want to stay here alone with Izuna.

So, after she was sure that Itachi had gone far enough, Sakura rose abruptly to her feet. She crossed the room with purpose, each step toward the door feeling like an act of rebellion.

Izuna’s eyes followed her, a mixture of curiosity and irritation flaring up within him as he shot up from his seat. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He snapped, voice sharper than he intended. The edge masked the unease creeping through him, something twitching uncomfortably in his chest. He understood why she wanted to leave—hell, he wanted to leave—but her sudden departure left a strange, unsettled knot in his gut.

“Hey!” He barked again, louder this time, as she moved toward the door without so much as a glance in his direction. It was as if he weren’t even there, and something about that made his skin bristle.

“You’re not allowed to walk out of here!” His tone was urgent as he closed the space between them.

When she reached the door and twisted the knob, Izuna's hand slammed against the wood, forcing it shut with a heavy bang that echoed through the room, freezing Sakura in place. 

“I haven’t apologized to you yet!” He snapped, voice too loud, too confused, too desperate. So you can’t leave.

She spun around to face him, eyes blazing with that same fire she always seemed to reserve for him. Even with the height difference, even with her slight frame, she stood like she could take him down on sheer defiance alone. 

“Let’s just say that you did and I forgive you,” she said without missing a beat. It was infuriating  how easily she dismissed it all.

Izuna recoiled slightly, not because of her words, but because he’d just become painfully aware of how close they were. He could feel her presence like a current in the air, electric and unpredictable. It threaded through the charged air between them, overwhelming in a way that caught him off guard, all heat and tension. He wasn’t sure she even realized it, or maybe she was just that bold.

“It’s not like Itachi would know.”

“Then prove it!” The words tore from his throat before he could stop them, raw and reckless, surprising himself. What was he doing?

Confusion flickered across her face. “Prove what?” She asked, her tone tight, uncertain now. 

Izuna swallowed down the sudden rise of nerves, forcing himself to straighten up and take a step back. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, trying to mask the unease still prickling under his skin.

“That you can lie convincingly,” he said, voice steadier now. “Otherwise, I can guarantee we’ll be right back here under the same circumstances again.”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. As much as she wanted to argue, he wasn’t wrong. She hated to admit it, but this was already the second time Itachi had orchestrated something like this, and if history was any indication, there would be a third.

The first time had been a blur of stress, confusion, and manipulation. And if Itachi decided to escalate things and bring Shisui into this the next time—

Sakura shuddered when the image of the number one host flashed in her mind, all smiles and sparkles. That scenario alone was enough to persuade Sakura to stay and cooperate. At least to the best of her willingness.

Silence settled between them again, thick and taut. Izuna’s gaze stayed fixed on her, heavy with growing impatience.

“If you think your silent treatment could—”

"I'm just thinking, alright?" Sakura shot back, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Izuna let out a huff at her tone but didn’t argue. Something in him had expected more resistance, maybe even a dramatic exit. He hadn’t expected her to agree so quickly, and still brought him a strange mix of relief and tension in his chest. 

“What is there to think about?” He pressed, a little too quickly.

Sakura shot him a glare, immediately and full of fire. But strangely, Izuna didn’t find it as irritating as he used to. It was still annoying, but there was something oddly compelling about the way she burned so fiercely in such a small frame, like a spark that refused to go out.

He’d heard Shisui and even Madara talk about their encounters with her, always with a particular gleam in their eyes. They seemed to enjoy getting under her skin, poking at her pride just to see how she’d bite back. At the time, he thought it was bizarre and juvenile, but now, he was starting to get it. She was fun to mess with. Maddening and unpredictable, but undeniably entertaining all the same. If only she wasn’t just as good at getting under his skin. If only he wasn’t so unprepared for how much she unraveled him, how often his own reactions caught him off guard.

“Do you know how hard it is to come up with a convincing lie when the other person already knows you’re lying?” She bit out.

Izuna scoffed instinctively, but he didn’t follow it up with another jab. That, he could believe. After all, that had been his first impression of her. She couldn’t lie to save her life. At least, not to him.

Sakura bristled at his reaction, her mouth already open for a retort, but when she realized he wasn’t going to bite back, she hesitated. The silence that followed was strained, but not combative.

She took a slow breath, visibly forcing herself to calm down and pushing back the heat in her chest. She needed to focus on how to get this over with. Part of her doubted she could lie convincingly to Itachi, but the stubborn part of her believed she could at least fool Izuna. The question was: what exactly could she say that would sound believable?

It should have been an easy task, but the moment she was put on the spot, her mind went frustratingly blank. She glanced around the room, eyes searching for any scrap of inspiration, any excuse that might slip past Izuna’s scrutiny. 

What could she say to Izuna? They knew next to nothing about each other and didn’t exactly have a shared topic. She wasn’t deluded about her own lack of skill at lying, especially not with someone like him. 

This was clearly not a challenge she could win, yet her stubbornness refused to let her surrender. Whatever lie she chose would likely be something she would never say to Izuna, but spoken with such conviction that he’d believe it anyway. A conviction that only came when she spoke the truth.

So what could she even attempt, given her limitations?

Lost in thought, Sakura studied him closely. Despite being the spitting image of her roommate, Izuna and Sasuke were more different than alike. Izuna indulged in sweets Sasuke would never touch, kept his hair at a length Sasuke would never dare, and was far more talkative and social than Sasuke could ever be.

Izuna also evoked a completely different feeling than she had when she was with Sasuke. They never seemed to be able to gain an understanding or reach agreement. While she and Sasuke would have occasional disagreements, there were always trust and compromises. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Sasuke and Izuna were the complete opposite.

So if there was one thing she would never say to Izuna, it had to be something she had long wanted to tell Sasuke. If her roommate were standing here instead, with this moment to speak her mind, how would she say it?

Izuna was shifting his weight impatiently when Sakura took a deep breath. Honestly, he didn’t even know why he even suggested this in the first place. He knew this girl couldn’t lie to him, or lie in general, let alone convincingly enough to fool Itachi. He had seen her attempt it on their first meeting, so maybe he was curious to see if spending time around Itachi had sharpened her skills. Or maybe he was just stalling for time.

That’s preposterous! Why would I try to find ways to spend time with this girl? It’s not like I—

His thoughts shattered when she straightened, her eyes locking onto his with a fierce intensity that made his breath hitch. His heart thudded loudly and unexpectedly in his chest in anticipation. 

Preposterous.

“Uchiha-san,” she began, her voice steady yet carrying a delicate vulnerability he rarely glimpsed, a shy tremor that softened her usual resolve. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, and I know that I have been stubborn and hard to deal with.”

Though uncertainty twisted in his gut, Izuna couldn’t tear his eyes away from her trembling lips and earnest gaze. 

“But I don’t want to lie anymore, especially not to you,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper now, yet each word landed like a gentle, aching truth. “And I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same way I do, but I just need you to know that I…I love you.”

Izuna’s eyebrows shot up in stunned disbelief. He stood frozen, as if anchored by the sheer force of her words, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

She said she loves me? The words echoed, surreal and impossible.

It was so unlike Sakura, so wildly out of character that it rattled something in him. He had braced for a smirk, a flippant remark, maybe even a pointed jab veiled in sarcasm. But none came. Instead, she had spoken with a raw sincerity that cut through his defenses like a blade. 

His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of her sudden change in demeanor. Was this some kind of intimidating tactic? A trap?

Unbidden and unfamiliarly, his pulse thundered, fast and erratic, as a warmth crept up his neck. Why did it shake him to hear her say it? Why did his heart feel like it was trying to leap from his chest? Why did the sincerity in her voice feel like it mattered more than it should? 

More importantly, is she blushing?

Despite all her careful reasoning, the moment Sakura heard herself say those embarrassing words, her cheeks burned a furious crimson. She hadn’t even meant it for him. So why was her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest?

Perhaps it was because Izuna was looking at her like that. With those familiar, piercing eyes that mirrored Sasuke’s so closely it was almost cruel. Her thoughts stuttered, tangled in confusion. She couldn’t help but wonder how her actual roommate would react if he ever heard her admit the truth she’d buried so deeply.

“That’s a lie,” Izuna said at last, his voice deceptively flat, more like someone trying to convince himself than accuse her.

Sakura’s head snapped up as her heart sank. That was her best attempt. Was it not good enough?

Izuna’s brow furrowed, shadows flickering across his expression as he looked away. Inside, he was struggling to keep himself from unraveling from the unfamiliar flutter in his chest, one he desperately tried to smother before it could rise to the surface.

The fact that those three words could affect him this much must mean that Sakura could lie convincingly if she wanted to. But that can’t be right, can it? He didn’t want to acknowledge how it made him feel. 

Because I don’t care about this random girl at all, he repeated the thought like a mantra, but it rang hollow, even in the echo chamber of his mind.

This maddening, honest, transparent girl couldn’t lie to save her life months ago. He’d seen it in how easily her emotions betrayed her on her face. No, Sakura didn’t lie, at least not well enough to him. How could he truly believe that the girl had suddenly become capable of lying to him with such raw, vulnerable precision?

Unless it wasn’t a lie at all.

The possibility crept in like a whisper, traitorous and unwelcome. And before he could shut it down, before he could brace himself, the question slipped past his lips.

“What about Itachi?”

He hadn’t meant to say it, but how could he not ask? After overhearing their conversation at the doorway? After the way he had witnessed her act toward Itachi? After all the evidence staring at him in the face?

“Itachi?” She asked, her brow furrowed in confusion and concern. She knew Izuna asked her to prove to him she could lie to Itachi, but, “What does he have to do with what I just told you?”

“So he doesn’t know?” Izuna pressed, surprising himself that he hadn’t let the question go.

Sakura’s brow furrowed even more, her confusion bleeding into frustration. The pressure to prove herself tightened like a knot in her chest. And yet, beneath the rising heat of indignation, a quiet thread of anxiety pulled at her. Even if they were lies, she really didn’t want any of what was said today between them to circle back to Sasuke through Itachi and make him misunderstand her feelings. 

“Does he have to know?” She asked, voice rising with panic and embarrassment. “I literally just told you I love you! I don’t want him to know about that!”

There it was again. Those three words. Bold, direct, and unguarded. And once again, Izuna couldn’t detect a hint of deception. 

Had he been underestimating her all along? Had she been performing, playing some long game, ever since the moment he first laid eyes on her?

“You’re telling the truth,” Izuna said at last, his voice stiff, as though the words caught somewhere in his throat. Still, beneath the uncertainty, a flicker of excitement threaded through him uninvited.

Sakura meanwhile, was struggling to follow Izuna’s chain of thoughts. His tone and his hesitations all felt like some kind of puzzle she hadn’t been given the pieces for. Was this another test? Was he trying to see if she could hold her ground under Itachi’s scrutiny?

“Of course I’m telling the truth!” She bursted out, frustration and sincerity tangled in her voice. “You know very well I can’t lie about my feelings. When I say I love you, I mean it!”

Izuna instinctively took half a step back, as if her conviction physically struck him. Her persistence had stripped him of the composure he clung to and his chest tightened as her voice replayed in his head, over and over.

I love you! I mean it!

“I-it defeats the purpose if you’re telling the truth then!” Izuna snapped, frustration finally slipping through the cracks in his composure. He had asked her to lie and prove that she could, but instead, she’d used the moment to confess something real? After flirting so openly with Itachi in front of him just minutes ago?

There had to be a lie somewhere in this tangle of feelings and words. But he couldn’t tell which was which anymore, not with his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to break free.

Sakura recoiled, then bristled, cheeks flushed with heat from exasperation. “But you’re the one who wanted me to say it!” She fired back, eyes blazing with confusion.

She couldn’t understand what he wanted from her. Why was it that when she lied, he would accuse it being the truth and dismiss it? Did he want her to lie to him or not? Or was it still not good enough?

Maybe she hadn’t said it right. Maybe she needed to try again, with more feeling! With no room left for doubt!

“I love you, Uchiha-san! With all my heart!” Her voice trembled as her words rang out. Each syllable was laden with raw desperation as her hands clenched nervously at her sides. She refused to relent, her resolve bolstered by the increasing cadence of her own heartbeat. 

She was so close, she was sure

“All I want is to be by your side,” she continued, each word spilled from her like a dam breaking, emotions flooding past every wall she had tried to hold up. “Even if it’s only as a friend. Even when it hurts. Even when I can’t run to you when I want to. Even when I can’t take away your pain.”

Izuna staggered back another step. What the hell is this? She wasn’t going to stop and neither was the frantic, relentless pounding in his chest.

Again!

“As long as you’re happy, then that’s all that matters to me.”

Izuna’s eyes widened as a strange mix of excitement and fear swelled in his chest. “What are you—?”

Again!

“So please believe me when I say I love you, because I do!”

Stop. All this had to be a lie, Izuna decided then, clung to it like a lifeline in the chaos of her words. He had been overthinking and underestimating her. The simplest answer was that she had just done what he asked and lied convincingly.

Again!

“I love you!”

Stop! The confession. The confusion. The storm of feelings he hadn’t asked for and didn’t know how to handle. What did I get myself into? How do I stop this?!

“I! Love! Y—!”

“I’m sorry!” Izuna practically yelled across the room, cutting her off sharply and startling Sakura. 

They stood, breaths shallow and uneven, their chests rising and falling in sync with the tension pulsing between them. Only the harsh rasp of their breathing broke the stillness that settled between them. They stared at each other for a beat as if unsure of what to say next.

Izuna lowered his gaze, the fire behind his eyes dimming to a raw, flickering glow. “For the way you were treated during the escort, for using you in our plan, and for threatening you.” His voice was much quieter now, his words weighed down by regret. “You don’t deserve any of that, and I’m truly sorry.”

Sakura’s eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze searched Izuna’s face, tracing the lines of sincerity and turmoil reflected in his eyes. 

Softly, Izuna cleared his throat, the sound barely breaking the thick, awkward silence that had settled between them. His fingers twitched nervously at his sides as he waited for Sakura’s response, hoping that his apology would suffice.

“I’m sorry, too.” 

Izuna’s head snapped up, surprise flashing across his face at the humility and shame woven through Sakura’s quiet reply. This softness and uncharacteristic docility was a startling contrast to the fierce, spirited woman he knew. He’d witnessed so many sides of her today, each one more bewildering than the last. And amidst it all, Izuna couldn’t shake the a swirl of confusion twisting inside him about the situation, about her, and most unsettling of all, about his own tangled feelings.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude and nosy about your clan’s affairs,” Sakura continued softly, her voice tinged with quiet regret. “You’re right, I’m an outsider. I’ve made it clear before that I don’t want to be involved, and I have no right to judge your traditions or beliefs.”

From the moment she first spotted him in Itachi’s apartment, Sakura had instinctively painted Izuna as the villain, scrutinizing every word he spoke, bracing herself to challenge him. Their initial encounter had left a bitter taste and a stubborn impression she couldn’t easily shake.

Izuna’s presence, so strikingly similar to Sasuke, had a way of making her guard slip, stirring a strange calm that unsettled her more than she was willing to admit. So, unconsciously, she had overcorrected her feelings toward him, pushing herself so far in the opposite direction that she shut out the chance to see him for who he was.

And if that was the case, shouldn’t they both deserve a chance to turn over a new leaf?

“So you’d forgive me?” Izuna asked, his voice tinged with hope even when his mind was still jumbled and confused.

“If you’d forgive me.” 

A tender smile brushed her lips as her eyes softened like dawn light breaking through the dark sky. The warmth in her gaze made Izuna’s heart stutter as a sudden rush of relief flooded him. The faint floral scent from her shampoo lingered in the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of the cheesecake they had shared. It seemed they had finally reached a mutual understanding.

What is this? Izuna wondered, surprised at how easily things had shifted. The girl was more cooperative and reasonable than he had anticipated. But even then, he could tell there was a reluctance to stay a minute longer, especially alone with him.

Of course. She had lied to him, just as he wanted her to. That was the story he clung to, even though a small, stubborn part of him clutched at the faintest flicker of hope that maybe there was some truth buried in the words she had said to him.

But she came here for one reason, and that reason wasn’t him, that reason had actually left her here under his watch. So it was no surprise when she made her way to the door without hesitation. 

All she left behind was a shy smile, awkward and apologetic, yet radiant in its sincerity. The gentle curve of her lips and the soft warmth in her eyes seemed to brighten the room around them. As he watched the door close behind her, Izuna couldn’t help but feel a pang of admiration and a flicker of longing.

As the sound of her footsteps faded, Izuna found his thoughts drifting toward his brother’s fascination with her. He could see now, the way she effortlessly brought warmth and light into even the tensest moments, how her inner fire refused to be extinguished, no matter how troubling the situation.

Despite having met her only once, Madara must have seen Sakura’s potential as an Uchiha, and Izuna found himself inclined to agree. She was physically and mentally strong, daring enough to confront armed opponents head-on, staying strong even in the face of fear. While some might attribute her fearlessness to recklessness, it was a trait highly valued among Uchiha nonetheless.

Not only was she intelligent and outspoken, but Sakura also possessed a charm that drew others in. Her striking features and athletic physique were undeniable assets. Yet, there was one crucial element missing from her otherwise stellar qualifications for the Oyabun’s wife position: loyalty. That quality, Izuna feared, was already pledged to another.

Chapter Text

Izuna eased out of the parking lot, the tires crunching softly over loose gravel as he turned onto the narrow street leading to the main road. The midday sun hung high, casting sharp shadows on the pavement.

That was when he saw her again, the familiar silhouette moving along the sidewalk. Her bubblegum-colored hair swayed slightly with each step. 

His brows lifted in mild surprise. He hadn’t expected to see her again so soon. She had left Itachi’s apartment a few minutes before him, and fate seemed intent on prolonging their encounter.

Slowing his car to a crawl, he rolled down the window, the mechanical whirring breaking the hush of the quiet street.

“Hey,” Izuna called out, his voice more uncertain than he intended.

But she kept walking. There was not even a flicker of acknowledgement or a shift in her pace. There was only the rhythmic tap of her shoes on sun-warmed pavement, unbothered and distant.

Izuna’s jaw tightened. His fingers curled more firmly around the steering wheel. This maddening, two-faced girl. Just half an hour ago, she'd left him with a smile that lingered in his mind like perfume, and now she wouldn’t spare him a second of her gaze?

He leaned closer to the open window. “Hey, are you deaf?”

Her response was immediate and detached. “The last time I stopped to talk to a suspicious man in a black car, I was kidnapped, Uchiha-san.”

Izuna sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. “I literally just apologized for that, didn’t I?”

Finally, she looked over, but there was caution in her gaze, as if she were still weighing the risk of acknowledging him at all. “And I thought that was the end of our conversation.”

That stung more than he expected. He’d thought the air between them had shifted and that the edge had dulled, at least a little. But now, faced with her guarded expression, it felt like he was right back where they started.

His fingers hovered over the window controls. He could just roll it up, pretend the conversation never happened, and drive off. Maybe that would be easier, but that seemed too childish even for him.

Instead, he exhaled and said, “I was just going to offer to drive you home.”

Even setting aside that this was the right thing to do, or that Itachi had asked him, she was still someone his brother valued. Whether she was just a fleeting date or destined to marry Madara, it didn’t matter. Meeting her without Madara’s knowledge like this was already playing with fire. 

If Madara ever found out, he wouldn’t just be furious, he’d be merciless. But if Madara discovered he let her walk home alone without ensuring her safety, his brother would do worse than kill him. And yet, Izuna knew Madara would hate the idea of her sitting beside him in a car, alone, breathing the same air.

It was a choice between a rock and a hard place, and Izuna was simply choosing the lesser evil. Izuna couldn’t understand how Madara admired her capability yet had the need to keep her protected. 

Sakura barely spared him a glance, unsure why he was keeping this up. She wasn’t exactly eager to be seen in broad daylight with a Kobu member, let alone accept a favor from one. 

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take the train.”

Izuna sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Do you still not trust me, Haruno-san?”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, too quick for most to notice, but Izuna caught it. “It’s not about trust,” she said, though she wasn’t quite sure that was the truth. “My apartment is only a few train stops away. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Izuna huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. “You’re being inconvenient right now by refusing my offer.”

Sakura finally turned her head, arching a brow in an effortless challenge. “Well, you’re not making a great case for me to accept it, Uchiha-san.”

Izuna felt his temper flare, like it always did around her. It was becoming a pattern, one he was starting to recognize with a mixture of irritation and reluctant awareness. He was supposed to be the easygoing one, the more likable brother, the one who knew how to talk people down and smooth things over. But she had a way of getting under his skin, of finding the exact thread to pull until something frayed.

Still, he caught himself and exhaled slowly, grounding the heat in his chest with a breath that scraped the edge of restraint. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction this time.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get snarky,” Izuna said at last, the sharpness in his tone unraveling into something almost tentative. “I just… Itachi called you here under false pretenses. The least I can do is make sure you get home safe.”

“Besides…” He continued. “I owe you a favor anyway.”

Sakura hesitated. The logic didn’t fully add up. A few train stops in the middle of the day hardly warranted an escort, and they both knew it. So why the insistence? Perhaps it was out of guilt, or maybe duty. But after what he had said, would turning him down be almost unreasonably stubborn? 

And then there was the favor. A vague promise unused and likely to stay that way given the fact that she wanted nothing to do with Kobu, and especially not its second-in-command.

“You can have the rest of the cheesecake if you just get in the car,” Izuna offered, though his voice lacked any real conviction. It wasn’t a bribe so much as a weary surrender, like he was making one last, half-hearted attempt before giving up entirely.

Yet, surprisingly, she slowed to a stop, exhaling in quiet resignation. 

Izuna blinked, caught off guard.

“…Alright.”

Did that really just work? 

Izuna pressed on the brake, easing the car to a smooth stop. He didn’t dare say anything, afraid that pushing too hard might undo whatever strange truce had just been struck.

Without a word, Sakura opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. The door clicked shut with a muted finality as she settled the box of cake on her lap with a kind of care that felt oddly ceremonial. 

Her fingers moved to the seatbelt, but it caught awkwardly as she pulled, jerking against its hold. She huffed, irritated, but before she could try again, Izuna’s arm swept suddenly into her line of vision. The ridge of his muscle beneath the sleeve was impossible to miss, a quiet reminder of the strength he rarely flaunted but always carried.

Sakura froze as he leaned over, her eyes shifted to the sharp angles of his side-profile, now impossibly close. The scent of his cologne drifted into the narrow space between them, clean with a hint of something woodsy. It lingered so subtle it almost made her forget to breathe. 

The click of the seat belt locking into place jolted her back to herself, yet Sakura stayed frozen for a heartbeat longer, her pulse far too loud in her ears for something so simple. 

It was also then that Izunua seemed to register just how little space there was between them. His eyes unconsciously swept over her features, caught on the vivid green of her eyes, lingered a second too long on the fan of her lashes. There was something vulnerable in that look, unguarded curiosity slipping through the cracks of his usually composed exterior, until realization struck.

His expression quickly shifted to something bordering on panic as he recoiled into his seat like he’d touched something hot. The tips of his ears flush a deep, unmistakable red.

They spoke at the same time.

“Thank you!”

“Sorry!”

Another beat of silence passed where they exchanged quick, nervous glances. They were too brief to mean anything, yet too telling to mean nothing. The awkward silence that followed was almost unbearable as the car began to move forward. It felt weird for them both to not be yelling at each other.

Trying to distract herself from the lingering awkwardness, her eyes drifted across the dashboard, tracing the sleek, modern lines and polished finish. The only other vehicle she had been in was the one Obito drove, but she hadn’t been sitting in the passenger seat nor was she in the state of mind to notice much at all.

“You guys all drive such nice cars,” Sakura remarked tentatively, like she was testing the ground before taking a step. Her fingers were lightly tapped against her leg in a nervous rhythm. 

She couldn’t remember a single time she’d had a normal conversation with Izuna that didn’t spiral into a shouting match. But now, with the silence stretching between them and the air still humming faintly with the aftershock of too-close proximity, she figured she could at least try.

She didn’t know much about cars, but even she could tell this one was expensive. Every Uchiha she’d met seemed to drive something sleek, powerful, and absurdly high-end.

“The car that Obito-san—”

“‘Obito-san?’” Izuna’s voice suddenly rose in disbelief, startling Sakura mid-sentence. 

What was it with these brothers? It was like the moment she tried to steer the conversation into anything resembling normalcy, they had to set it on fire. 

“You’re on a first-name basis with him?” Izuna demanded, eyes narrowing, his body angling slightly toward her even as he kept the car steady on the road.

When did this happen?

Sakura blinked, still unsure what exactly had touched a nerve. 

“Is it that shocking?” She asked, her voice rising slightly in confusion, almost matching the edge in his tone. Despite her efforts to stop demonizing Izuna, she found herself still approaching his intentions with suspicion. “He’d been nothing but nice to me.”

Izuna fell silent for a second, processing her words. It should make sense. After all, those two branch family brothers and even his own brother were on first-name terms with her. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. And yet, despite the logic, it bothered him. Perhaps it was because she had specifically mentioned Obito. 

He was second-in-command on paper, but in practice, Izuna sometimes felt like he wasn’t truly needed. Obito was the one Madara leaned toward, spoke to in low tones when no one else was meant to hear. He was the one trusted with secrets, with looks exchanged in silence that Izuna wasn’t part of. Madara likely wanted to protect him, yet sometimes that kind of care felt more like exclusion.

There were times when Izuna wondered if Madara would have been perfectly content if he had stepped away from the Kobu altogether, letting Obito take his place as second-in-command. He would have hated it—resented it, even—but at the same time, there was a twisted sense of relief that came with the idea. The freedom to walk away from the suffocating grip of the Kobu. It was a fleeting thought, one he quickly shoved away, but the relief was there, hovering on the edges of his mind.

Despite his dislike for the man, Izuna couldn’t really blame Obito either. He was a man repaying a debt, a dependent man clinging to duty. Izuna had no legitimate reason to hate him, no rational excuse for the irritation curling in his gut, and that made it all the more infuriating. And now, to make matters worse, Obito had somehow beaten him in an area Izuna hadn’t even realized was a competition until this moment.

Izuna scoffed, disbelief and disdain laced in his voice. “ Nice, you say. You’re more naive than I thought.”

Sakura stiffened, her fingers tightening around the box of cake on her lap. She should’ve known the momentary camaraderie between them wouldn’t last. They were two competitive hotheads who barely trusted each other, no matter how much they pretended otherwise. There was no way this wouldn’t turn into anything that wasn’t sharp and defensive.

“Is it naive if I call Itachi-san by his first name?”

“That’s different!” Izuna shot back.

Sakura narrowed her eyes. “How is it different?”

Izuna clicked his tongue, his grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. “The difference,” he said, voice laced with irritation, “is that your pink toothbrush is still sitting next to his in the bathroom of his apartment.”

Sakura’s breath hitched. He still hasn't thrown that away?

Heat crept up her neck as the memory of that night resurfaced, unbidden and unwelcome. Dreading where this conversation was headed, she quickly latched onto defiance instead. “That has nothing to do with this!” She exclaimed, voice pitched a little higher than she meant.

Izuna scoffed, his gaze flickering toward her before returning to the road. “It doesn’t?”

Sakura let out a frustrated breath. “I call Sasuke-kun by his first name—”

“You live with the kid for months now,” Izuna cut in flatly, barely missing a beat. Knowing how insufferably aloof his cousin could be and how quick-tempered and sharp-edged the girl beside him was, there had to be some degree of mutual respect between the two of them at the very least to make their unique arrangement bearable. “It would actually be weird to address him otherwise.”

Sakura’s eyes twitched. “I also call Shisui-san—”

“That idiot deserves neither respect nor honorifics.”

“—and your brother—”

“He probably forced that on you.”  

“—by their first name, for Kami’s sake let me finish my damn sentence!” 

Sakura inhaled sharply, her patience wearing dangerously thin. She wasn’t even sure why she was arguing so fiercely when, as much as she hated to admit it out loud, she didn’t completely disagree with what he was saying. But that wasn’t the point.

“The point is! ” She bit out, emphasizing each word, “It shouldn’t matter how I address him because I do it for everyone!”

Izuna scoffed indignantly. His eyes flicked to her with an unspoken challenge like he wasn’t convinced. Sakura's frustration simmered. She was unsure of how to take his reaction until it hit her.

Oh.

Sakura turned to Izuna, her irritation spiking as the realization settled in.

“Why couldn’t you just ask like a normal person?” She demanded, exasperation seeping into her tone.

Izuna bristled. “Who said anything about wanting to—!”

But he cut himself off, jaw snapping shut before he said something he didn’t mean. His frustration hung thick in the air, mingling with the tension that neither of them wanted to address as the awkward silence stretched between them once more. Finally, Izuna exhaled sharply, swallowing down the last bit of his pride. His face warmed with something like embarrassment.

“Can we drop the last name?” He asked, quieter than he meant to. His gaze stayed fixed on the road, unwilling to risk a glance in her direction, not with the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

Sakura huffed, rolling her eyes, but the usual sharpness in her expression had dulled. “Sure. Was that so hard?”

A snarky retort hovered on the tip of his tongue, instinctive and ready, but Izuna bit it back. For once, he didn’t want to start another argument. Instead, he grumbled stubbornly, “You should still be careful around Obito.”

Sakura’s gaze hardened and her lips twitched in annoyance. “That’s pretty hypocritical of you to say after pressuring me to get into your car, Izuna-san.”

Izuna frowned, but the sound of her saying his name eased some of the irritation. “I wasn’t pressuring,” he muttered. “It was an offering of peace.”

Sakura scoffed. From her experience, a peace offering from an Uchiha man would bring nothing but trouble. The last time she accepted one, she ended up pinned to the floor. So why was she here again?

“If there’s anyone I should be careful with, it’s your brother.”

Izuna opened his mouth to argue, but shut it when he realized he didn’t have a rebuttal to that, and the silence that followed was heavier than before. He stared ahead at the road, his thoughts trailing into a quiet, uncertain space. Eventually, the familiar shape of Sakura’s apartment complex peeked out from between the towering high-rises.

“That’s the one,” she said, pointing toward it.

Izuna barely glanced at the building before a look of pure disgust crossed his face. “You really live here?”

Sakura leered at him, already bracing for whatever snide remark he was about to make. “Sorry if my living space doesn’t live up to your high expectations for shelter.”

Sakura expected a final jab to assert his usual arrogance, but Izuna remained silent. His gaze stayed locked on the front-view mirror. She huffed, annoyed despite technically winning this particular argument. Whatever was distracting him, she didn’t care. The ride had already been way longer than it needed to be.

As they neared the entrance to her apartment complex, Sakura instinctively reached for the seat belt buckle, fingers poised to unclip it the moment the car came to a stop. But the car didn’t slow down. Instead, it kept rolling forward at the same steady pace, bypassing the entrance entirely.

Sakura’s body tensed. “Hey!” She turned to him, her voice laced with unease. “You just drove past it!”

But Izuna didn’t respond, his gaze was still flicking between the mirror and the road ahead.

Sakura’s pulse quickened as she reached for the seat belt buckle, fingers trembling as she pressed down, ready to free herself and jump from the moving car if she had to. But before she could, the unmistakable click of the door locks echoed through the cabin. Izuna’s hand shot out, wrapping firmly around her hand.

Sakura’s head snapped up, fury and disbelief flashing in her eyes. “What the hell do you think—”

“Sakura-san,” Izuna cut in, his voice slicing through her rising panic.

Something in his tone froze her mid-motion, and only then did she truly take him in. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by something she had never seen on him before, his brows drawn together, his jaw tight, his entire body coiled with tension. For the first time, he looked deadly serious.

That stupid, reckless part of her, the part that kept giving these Uchiha men the benefit of the doubt, wanted to believe there was a reason to sit still and trust him. But every other instinct she had screamed at her to fight.

Sakura’s glare didn’t waver, her body coiled tight with resistance. “If you think you can scare me—”

“Do you see that gray car behind us?” Izuna cut in again, his voice unnervingly level.

Her gaze shifted to the front-view mirror, catching sight of the vehicle trailing them. A plain gray car with two men in the front seats. Nothing immediately suspicious.

Her brow furrowed. “What about it?” She asked, her voice filled with skepticism.

Izuna exhaled sharply. “That’s an unmarked police car.”

Sakura stiffened at the certainty in Izuna’s tone.

She turned back to the mirror, studying the vehicle again. It looked ordinary, just another car blending into traffic. But the way it kept perfectly in pace with them, never attempting to pass or turn, set off warning bells.

“Are they following us?” Sakura asked, alarm creeping into her voice.

Normally, the sight of police wouldn’t have sent a chill down her spine. But right now? Sitting in the passenger seat of a car driven by the second-in-command of the city’s most notorious yakuza group? With a box of half-eaten cake, no less?

How the hell was she supposed to explain this in a way that wouldn’t make her look like she was friendly with the Kobu?

Izuna shook his head, but his jaw remained tight. “It’s likely,” he admitted.

Sakura’s pulse hammered in her chest, every beat echoing louder in the confined space. “But we haven’t done anything illegal, have we?”

Izuna exhaled slowly through his nose, shaking his head again. “Not that I know of.”

Izuna wasn’t sure what he had done to raise their alarm. Had they gotten new intel on Kobu? Were they tracking a different suspect with a similar profile and car model? Or was this just a stroke of bad luck, an unfortunate coincidence that placed him in their sights?

It doesn’t matter.

Whether it was chance or intent, their presence was a problem. The cops were watching, but not enough to flip their lights on yet. Still, Izuna couldn’t risk pulling up in front of Sakura’s apartment and handing them a direct link between her and Kobu.

“I’m going to take a lap around the block,” he muttered.

Beside him, Sakura stiffened. If today had taught her anything, it was that she wasn’t a convincing liar. She had tried earlier, when Izuna asked her to lie to him, but instead, she had told the truth about her feelings, just to the wrong person. 

If the police pulled them over now? If they decided she was an accomplice, how would that affect Sasuke? Would they drag her in for questioning, tie her name to the Kobu in their records, and trace it to Sasuke? How many more times would she let herself be talked into getting into a strange man’s car?

Sakura jolted back to the present as a strong, warm hand tightened over hers, a silent promise of protection.

“Hold on,” Izuna muttered, his gaze locked on the road ahead. “We’re going to lose them.”

His hand slipped away, leaving a lingering heat on her skin that she clenched her fingers around as if trying to hold onto the fleeting comfort. Her hands flew to the seat belt, gripping it as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Izuna turned on the signal and veered smoothly into the turning lane. The tires hummed against the pavement. A quick glance in the side mirror confirmed that the gray car trailing them followed suit, hesitating just long enough to yield to another vehicle that widened the gap between them.

Then, the traffic light ahead flickered to red and their fate balanced on the glow of a traffic signal.

Sakura’s heart pounded as she glanced back. The gray car was still there, but now it lingered a few cars behind. The brief delay gave Izuna a sliver of breathing room. Without thinking, she reached for her phone, her fingers brushing the screen before pausing. 

Who could she call in the middle of this chaos? Sasuke was out of the question, she refused to drag him into this nightmare. 

What about Itachi? But would that really help? His ties to the Kobu were just as strong, just as complicated as anyone else. Every option felt wrong.

Her thoughts were shattered as Izuna shifted lanes, his movements smooth and decisive, threading between two slower cars. The patrol car remained in pursuit but was now several vehicles back. 

Then, without warning, the siren screamed to life, a shrill wail that cut through the air. The patrol lights flared on, casting harsh blue and red flashes across the rearview mirror. The cars around them began to drift aside, creating a widening gap.

Without hesitation, Izuna slammed his foot onto the accelerator, shooting through the intersection despite another red light. Tires screeched as they weaved through incoming traffic, narrowly missing a collision. Sakura’s heart leapt into her throat.

The car darted onto a narrow residential street, then made another sharp turn into a dimly lit alley. The sound of the tires quickly softened as Izuna expertly shifted into reverse, gliding backward into a dark garage of a small building. 

With the click of a button, the garage door descended. It shut with a soft thud just as the wail of the siren and the flickering blue and red lights flashed by. The moment the door closed behind them, the world fell silent, leaving them in the quiet hum of their own ragged breaths and the echo of the siren slowly fading.

Izuna swiftly yet calmly exited the car. Sakura, still in a daze, followed him with shaky legs. The faint, lingering sound of the siren felt like it was stuck in her chest, thudding in rhythm with her heart.

“Oh no, oh no. This is bad. This is really bad,” she muttered, the words tumbling from her lips in a near-frantic whisper. Her voice quivered as she stumbled toward the nearest door, fingers fumbling for a handle that refused to turn. Even if she could unlock it, Izuna doubted she’d want to see the stacks of illegal goods packed inside.

With no other place to go, Sakura began pacing in tight circles within the dim, cavernous garage. The faint hum of distant traffic filtering through the thick walls. Sakura had thought that she could always turn to the police if things went south with the yakuza, but what was she to do when the threat was the police?

Izuna watched her for a moment before he stepped closer, his voice low and gentle, cutting through the growing panic. “Hey.”

But she didn’t respond, her gaze far away, lost in her spiraling thoughts. He tried again, this time louder. “Sakura-san.”

She spun around like she’d been struck, her eyes wide and wild. “What!?” She exploded.

The force of her outburst took Izuna by surprise, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel offended. The raw panic in her eyes told him all he needed to know that state she was in.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice softening as if talking to a wounded animal, afraid that if he moved too quickly, she might bolt, or shatter.

Sakura’s whole body tightened as she glared at him. “Am I okay?” She threw her hands up in disbelief, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “No, I’m not okay! Why did I even agree to get in the same car as you?”

Sakura let out a frustrated groan, her hands gripping her hair as she mumbled under her breath. “He’s supposed to be laying low and now I’m leading the police straight to him.”

Is she talking about Itachi? Izuna’s mind raced, trying to piece together her emotions.

She was back, the girl who always seemed to burn with anger around him, even when he had done nothing to deserve it. It frustrated him that he couldn’t understand why. If she was getting involved with someone like Itachi, or even his brother, then she should’ve known this was part of the territory. She should’ve expected this, not blamed him for it.

“You’re overreacting,” Izuna said, not cruel, just calm and matter-of-fact.

Sakura’s anger flared as her breath quickened. She could feel the heat rise in her chest, each beat of her heart matching the pace of her mounting frustration.

“How am I overreacting?” She snapped, her voice trembled with a volatile mix of anger and anxiety.

The thought of getting arrested and detained without bail for 48 hours on suspicion of having committed a crime made Sakura’s stomach twist into knots. “What if they catch us and they interrogate me?”

“What about it?” Izuna’s nonchalant response made her bristle. “You lied just fine half an hour ago.”

“That’s different!” Sakura countered, her voice rising in exasperation. 

Izuna raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you can lie to me but not the police?”

“That’s because I wasn’t lying earlier, kind of, not really…” Sakura trailed off. 

The ambiguity of her words hung in the air like smoke, impossible to grasp but impossible to ignore. Izuna’s brow furrowed as his heartbeat kicked up beneath his ribs. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

But Sakura didn’t seem to notice what she had left him with. Her mind was already miles away, too caught up in figuring out how to escape this mess and get home safely without involving Sasuke. Her focus was entirely on her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen as she hesitated. 

She was fucking with him, Izuna was sure. She had to be the world’s best liar, smiling sweetly with venom tucked behind her teeth, saying just enough to keep him guessing. Because the alternative that she might actually have feelings for him was too good to be true, too dangerous to believe.

No, he could only believe what he had seen with his own eyes. And what he saw was the way she acted around Itachi, the subtle shift in her demeanor when that man was around. What he saw was her toothbrush in Itachi’s bathroom, announcing her presence like she had never left.

“Hey,” he called out, more gruffly than he intended, but she didn’t respond. She was still so absorbed in the screen in front of her that she didn’t seem to have heard him.

He stood there, brow furrowing as he watched her. He didn’t think he had ever seen her like this, not even when she’d first walked into his office, a stranger to him and to the situation, eyes wide with uncertainty, not knowing who he was or why she was there. Yet now, she was so on edge, so vulnerable in a way that made him uneasy.

Sakura’s eyes were wide and frantic, her brow pinched tight with anxiety as she paced the small room. Every movement was a flicker of restless energy. Izuna watched her with an unfamiliar pull in his chest, a mix of concern and something he wasn’t ready to confront. The urge to reach out to her was overwhelming, and before he could stop himself, his hand shot out and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him. The sudden motion left her no time to resist when his arms enveloped her.

“What are you doing?” Sakura’s voice was sharp, her panic rising as she struggled against him. She thrashed, trying to break free, but Izuna was still bigger and stronger than her. His grip was firm yet surprisingly gentle, a careful control that kept her from harm even as he restrained her.

Her reaction was exactly what he’d expected, explosive and full of tension and defiance. But instead of letting go, he shushed her softly, the sound of it almost tender, trying to lull her to calm. 

“You’re overreacting to things you don’t have to worry about, Sakura-san,” Izuna murmured, his voice low and soothing.

Her body stiffened in his arms as she shot back, her tone laced with frustration and fear. “They’ve seen my face in a car with a potential Kobu member; how is that not something I have to worry about?”

“The window is tinted,” he replied calmly, his hand gently tracing the fabric of her sleeve as if to emphasize the calm he was trying to instill in her. “They shouldn’t have been able to see your face clearly through the mirrors.” 

This was especially true with her modest height, but Izuna held back the details, knowing the last thing she needed was something to latch onto for another argument.

“But they’ve seen your plate number,” Sakura persisted, her voice tight with worry. “They could easily look that up in their system.”

“You mean the plate number that you have no connection with?” He asked, his voice smooth and reassuring. “The plate is registered to a legal company car. The most they could do is charge me with some traffic violations, but we have ways to take care of that.”

Sakura was quiet for a moment, her eyes still wide with concern. Then, she spoke again, her voice smaller, almost dreadful at the extent he would go. “Is anyone going to… get hurt for that?”

Izuna resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This girl never gave him the benefit of the doubt. It seemed she always expected the worst, even when he was trying to reassure her. 

“We have lawyers, Sakura-san.” 

“Oh,” came her embarrassed reply, a soft, barely audible sound that almost made him feel guilty for being snarky.

The silence stretched between them for a few beats longer, long enough that Izuna was mildly surprised Sakura hadn’t broken free from his arms yet. It felt like the world had quieted down around them, the stillness only adding to the closeness of the moment. And suddenly, holding her to calm her down felt far more intimate than he had anticipated. Promptly his heart quickened, its frantic beat a secret confession he struggled to contain.

“Are you scared too?” Sakura’s voice dropped to a softer, almost tentative whisper.

Izuna cursed inwardly. Of course she could hear it. But what was he supposed to do?

Izuna hesitated for only a split second before answering, his tone deliberately casual, even when his mind was anything but. “No.”

“Liar.”

Izuna wasn’t lying. He wasn’t scared, at least not in the way she might have meant. But if the alternative was to admit that having her closeness—the warmth of her body pressed flush against his, the scent of her hair lingering in the air between them—was making his heart race in ways he couldn’t control, then he’d rather have her misunderstand him.

Instead, he shifted the conversation as a way to regain some control over the growing emotions inside him. “Are you ok now?”

Sakura inhaled deeply, the sound of it almost like a quiet surrender. Then came the slow exhale, as though she was releasing something heavy she’d been carrying alone. With her head still resting against his chest, she nodded once, the small movement almost imperceptible, but yet it sent a flutter through him all the same. 

Reluctantly, Izuna let his arms fall away, his hands grazing her arms with a tenderness that lingered a heartbeat too long. He half-expected her to retreat, to pull away, but she didn’t. She stayed right where she was, turning slowly to face him.

“What do we do now?” Her voice was softer, more uncertain than before.

Izuna shrugged, trying to mask the sudden tightness in his chest. He moved slowly, settling down on top of a crate. It wasn’t far, but the small distance felt necessary, like it might cool the emotions simmering just beneath his skin.

“You’re free to walk home now,” he said, gesturing toward the side door leading to the street. “I’m the one with the car the police are looking for.”

Izuna watched her eyes flicker toward the garage door, then back to him, weighing her options. Walking away would be easy, logical even, when she was only a block from her apartment. But would it be heartless after everything he’d just done for her? 

Her hesitation lasted only a moment before resolve settled into her features. Izuna almost flinched when she came over and sat down next to him on the boxes, closer than he expected and what he was ready for. 

You’re too close, he almost said, but bit back the reflexive words and swallowed before they could surface. Because the truth was, he didn’t hate it. From this distance, in the dim garage light, she looked even smaller and more fragile than he remembered. The fierce, combative girl he had expected seemed softened now, worn down by fear and exhaustion. 

Sakura didn’t look at him, but her body leaned ever so slightly in his direction, as if some unspoken part of her sought the stability he offered. The almost imperceptible gesture caused his heart to flutter with a quiet urgency he was thankful she couldn’t hear this time.

Sakura would never admit it aloud, but his presence grounded her. Perhaps it was because it reminded her so much of Sasuke, perhaps it was something else. Whatever it was, she was too tired to fight it.

With the faint wail of the siren still echoing in the background, the prospect of walking home alone did sound a bit daunting to Sakura, especially with the possibility of being stopped and questioned. 

“I don’t feel comfortable walking home by myself now,” she admitted. There was a hint of embarrassment, a vulnerability in her tone that made Izuna’s heart skip. He could tell she wasn’t used to admitting when she needed help, especially from someone like him who she barely trusted. 

And yet, here she was. The thought sent a strange mix of relief and confusion over him. She had been so angry with him earlier, so quick to blame him. But now, despite everything, she didn’t want to leave him.

“Thank you for earlier,” Sakura continued quietly. “You’re actually more capable than I thought.”

Izuna scoffed, the edge of sarcasm slipping back into his voice like an old reflex. Even when she offered praise, she couldn’t resist taking a subtle jab at him. “That’s encouraging,” he muttered, though the bite wasn’t as sharp as it might’ve been earlier.

Sakura turned her head slightly, studying him in the dim light. Until now, she’d filed Izuna away as someone clever, but not particularly reliable or trustworthy. But during the car chase, his eyes were razor-focused. Every movement he made was efficient and unshakably controlled, like someone who didn’t second-guess, someone who couldn’t afford to. 

He was someone far more formidable than the Izuna she thought she knew. Yet, it still threw her sometimes how much he resembled her roommate. Though Izuna was clearly older, a little rougher around the edges, the boyish charm was still there. 

From his expression, she could tell he was drained, too. And maybe that was why, instead of rising to meet his sarcasm, she let it pass. Instead, she surprised him by offering a genuine apology. 

“Sorry,” she said. Then, with a tilt of her head, she added, “Though…, has anyone ever told you that you don’t seem like someone who’d get caught up in something like this?”

Izuna wasn’t as ambitious as Madara, wasn’t as manipulative as Itachi, wasn’t as intimidating as Obito, and wasn’t as insufferable as Shisui. From the very first time she met him, Sakura couldn’t understand how he fit into this world, let alone why he would be second-in-command.

The silence stretched on, long enough that Sakura started to wonder if she had crossed a line, if he’d taken offense to her comment. But then, after what felt like an eternity, Izuna finally spoke, his voice low, almost distant.

“That’s because I didn’t have a choice.”

Sakura turned, her gaze searching him, but she remained silent as she gave him the space to find the right words. 

“When the former Oyabun chose Madara as his successor, it was natural—no, expected—that I would be his second-in-command.” Izuna’s voice was steady, but there was an underlying weariness in his tone. “Madara wouldn’t have it any other way.” Simply because Marada would trust no one else with the position other than his own brother. 

At that time, Izuna had been elated. He had never truly wanted the position, not deep down, but it was a recognition he’d never experienced before. Being the younger brother of a genius meant constantly being in someone’s shadow, and for once, this was his moment to stand out.

“I thought that taking on this responsibility would finally let me prove myself, but...” His words faltered for a brief second as his eyes dropped to the floor. “But it didn’t matter what I wanted.” 

Because it never did. His fate was already set on this path. Whether he liked it or not, this was the road he had to walk.

It all clicked for Sakura in that instant. Izuna’s path made so much more sense now why he had joined forces with Itachi to overthrow Madara’s rule over the Kobu. It was never about power or control, it was about breaking free from a life he never truly chose. 

Izuna was Sasuke if Sasuke had bowed to hierarchy and expectation instead of breaking free. If he had stayed to succeed his father, to shoulder the legacy instead of rejecting it, this was the life that would have awaited him: a future of following orders, of never quite being enough, of sacrificing pieces of himself just to belong, to appease people with value he might not even share for the sake of a system that bound him in chains dressed as tradition and honor.

The thought caused a twist in her stomach. Her fingers curled against her thigh, twitching with the urge to reach out, to offer some sort of comfort. But she held herself back, unsure if the gesture would be welcome. Instead, she asked a question that had lingered in her mind as the need to understand him pulled at her gently.

“If…” She started tentatively. “If you could do something else, what would you want to do?”

Izuna hummed softly, his brow furrowing as he turned the question over in his mind. He had never allowed himself the luxury of imagining a different life, a life outside the shadow of Madara and the Kobu.

“I think…” He trailed off for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. “I think I’d like to run some kind of business, as long as it’s mine. Making my own decisions. Finally having a life of my own.”

Sakura’s breath caught slightly at the simplicity of his words, but Izuna wasn’t finished. He turned to her slowly, meeting her gaze with an intensity she hadn’t expected.

“Finally have something that’s mine alone,” he added softly, as if the very idea was still unfamiliar, still something he was only just beginning to believe in.

For a split second, Sakura saw an unguarded flicker of vulnerability in Izuna’s eyes, a glimpse of a dream he had never dared to voice aloud. He had never allowed himself to imagine a life where his brother didn’t dominate every decision, every action, every part of his existence. Yet now, in this fleeting moment, the thought brought him a strange sense of relief, like the weight of a thousand unspoken words finally lifting off his chest.

She stared back at him, her mouth opening to say something, when the unmistakable sound of a siren shattered the stillness. It was louder than before, its wail cutting through the air, growing nearer with every passing second.

Sakura’s blood ran cold as the siren suddenly stopped right outside the garage door. She froze, dread pooling in her stomach.

The two of them scrambled to their feet in a rush of instinct. The sound of the side door’s handle rattled violently, followed by the thud of a shoulder slamming against it. Then came the sharp, brutal rhythm of someone trying to kick it down.

Shit!  

Izuna knew he should’ve sent her away the moment the coast was clear. He should’ve told her to run instead of indulging in the comfort of her presence. But now she was here and they were running out of time. 

Izuna’s eyes flickered around the room, scanning for an escape. With boxes and crates filled with contraband surrounded them like evidence waiting to be cataloged, hiding inside the house was off the table. He could shove them both back into the car and try to ram their way out. But what if he had to hit someone, run them down without hesitation? He’d done worse, he could do it, but not with her beside him. 

How would she look at him then? Would she look at him at all?

His jaw tightened as panic flashed across his gaze. The air was stifling now, thick with adrenaline and the pounding of their hearts echoing louder than the siren had. Every escape route felt like a dead end. Except for one. Except she must be the only one.

His gaze locked with Sakura’s, and the look on her face made his chest twist painfully. Her pupils were wide, her chest rising in shallow, shaky breaths, lips parted like she couldn’t find the air. Fear. He hated seeing that expression on her—hated that he had put it there. The safest option was simple. It was to surrender quietly and sever any seeming connection he had with her. 

But the door rattled again, harder this time. The frame trembled and the hinges groaned like they were seconds from giving. Izuna moved instinctively, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her close. He stepped just in front of her, shielding her from the door with the breadth of his body. 

“If they ask,” Izuna said urgently, “you’re being kidnapped by me.”

Sakura’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I can’t say that!” She gasped, shaking her head. “I told you I can’t lie!”

“But it’s not a lie if it happened once before right?”

Sakura’s breath hitched with realization. Technically, he wasn’t wrong, except the kidnapping was an attempt at escorting, carried out by Shisui and Obito. Though it wasn’t Izuna’s direct action, they were done under his order. 

A lie of omission. She could do that at least. But could she let him take a fall for something he didn’t do?

“Or would you rather be connected to the Kobu?”

Her stomach turned. “Of course not!”

“Then do as I say,” Izuna ordered, his voice sharp but not unkind. “You’ll get home safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

Her heart fluttered at his promise. This was Izuna she hadn’t yet seen in action until now, Sakura realized. This wasn’t the sarcastic man she had argued with, nor was he the shadow of her roommate. This was the second-in-command of the Kobu, the one who made split-second decisions with unwavering confidence, who carried the weight of impossible choices like it was just part of the job. For the first time, she understood why people followed him. Why not only Madara, but Itachi, trusted him. 

There had been times she doubted the idea that someone like Izuna could hold real authority, but now, she knew that whatever happened next, he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

Suddenly, a sharp, echoing crack sliced through the air as the side door burst open. Sakura startled, instinctively tensing besides Izuna. She braced for the worst—for gunfire, for shouting, for the cold metal of handcuffs. But it wasn’t danger that stepped through like she had thought. 

It was Shisui.

“Sorry,” he said casually, as if he had just walked in from a mundane errand. “I lost the hideout key.” 

He stood there, clad in a police uniform so crisp and perfectly fitted it looked like it had been tailored just for him. The silver badge caught the faint light while a cocky smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. If Sakura hadn’t already known about Shisui’s double life within the police force, she might have thought he was simply playing dress-up for his night job instead.

Not that she would ever admit it, but the uniform suited him, perhaps a little too well. It added an air of authority that only made his usual arrogance more infuriating.

Izuna’s irritation flared immediately at the sight of his cousin. “What the hell are you doing here?” He asked. 

But Shisui didn’t seem fazed by Izuna’s sharp tone. He shrugged casually, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Me? I’m here at Princess’s request, of course.” His eyes flicked toward Sakura with the same playful spark she’d come to expect from him. “Good job calling for help, Princess.”

Izuna whipped around, narrowing his eyes as the pieces clicked into place. He’d assumed Sakura had been reaching out to Itachi during those moments on her phone. But instead it seemed she’d contacted Shisui.

Was he wrong about her and Itachi? 

“You couldn’t come quietly without the siren?” She snapped, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Shisui just chuckled, unfazed by her glare. “You told me it was an emergency!” His tone was light and teasing. “Also I miss you!”

Izuna’s gaze followed the casual way Shisui moved, the ease with which he stepped into the room like he belonged there, the way he was acting too comfortable around Sakura, even for someone like Shisui. It prickled something in Izuna’s chest, something sharp and unwelcome, curling low and hot beneath his ribs. Jealousy? Distrust? He couldn’t name it, but it was there.

“Alright, Princess, come on,” Shisui urged, giving a little wave in her direction and making exaggerated noises like he was coaxing over a wayward pet. 

Irked by Shisui’s flippant attitude, Izuna’s grip on Sakura’s arm tightened subtly. Even if Shisui had been the one she called for help, he wasn’t about to just hand her over just like that, especially not to him.

Shisui’s eyes promptly flicked to the gesture. For a moment, there was no trace of amusement in his expression when their gazes met. But then, just as quickly, the easy smile returned, like it had never left.

When Shisui took a step toward them, Izuna instinctively prepared to step between them. But before he could fully sink into suspicion, before he could even start imagining the kind of closeness that might exist between them, Sakura swung at Shisui’s direction hard, instinctive and unrestrained, like she'd been waiting for this exact moment.

Izuna blinked, stunted.

Yeah, there’s no need to worry about Shisui, Izuna decided right there. Sakura had, after all, displayed the need to keep Itachi safe before; perhaps calling Shisui for help instead was her attempt to do so.

Shisui only laughed, easily dodging the hit. The smile on his face was still as wide and amused as ever. “You’re cute when you’re angry too, Princess,” he teased.

Sakura huffed, exasperation radiating off her in waves. Her voice was clipped, sharp with exhaustion and something more brittle underneath.

“I changed my mind,” she said. “You can leave. I’m staying here until it’s safe to walk home by myself.”

Izuna turned to her, caught off guard. She had called Shisui here, but now she was choosing to stay? With him?

It was a comforting thought, one he dared not indulge in. He knew she didn’t stay earlier because she was worried about him, she was simply still too scared when the police were likely still circling nearby looking for his car. 

Even as a flawed leader, one who knew better than to command people with careless words, this decision was clear. He understood what was best for her just as well as she did. Sakura wasn’t safe here with him.

So slowly, Izuna released his grip on her, a tangle of emotions twisting in his chest. When she turned toward him with a questioning look on her face, he took a careful step back.

“You should go with him, Sakura-san.”

Shisui’s eyes widened briefly, surprise flickering just beneath the surface before he masked it. Izuna caught the hesitation that crossed Sakura’s face like a shadow. Her brows knitted tightly together, and for a second, she looked at him like he’d just handed her a knife with the blade pointed inward.

“Why should I?” She asked, looking almost betrayed that he would suggest such a thing. Normally, Izuna wouldn’t recommend trusting anyone to Shisui, let alone her. But this wasn’t about him.

“It’s safer that way,” he replied, bracing himself for the inevitable pushback, for her to toss something sarcastic and barbed at him like she usually did. But instead, she was quiet and looked, dare he hoped, disappointed. 

The silence stretched just long enough before she exhaled and looked away.

“Fine,” she muttered, reluctant but resigned.

It was a small thing, a simple concession. One she should have made if she had any sense. Still, it surprised him that it had taken no bribes, no bait, no cheesecake held hostage this time. And strangely, that stirred a faint sense of unexpected satisfaction and pride. It wasn’t because he’d won, but because, for once, she trusted his judgment without a fight. 

Promptly, Sakura turned on her heel and headed for the door. Her steps were brisk, not sparing Shisui so much as a glance, as if intended to leave him behind. 

But just before slipping through the shattered doorway, she paused. Her gaze flicked back to Izuna, as if to say she’d see him around, but knew better than to voice it. Izuna simply responded with a nod, urging her onward.

When Sakura disappeared into the quiet outside, Shisui didn’t follow right away, but instead chose to linger. His footsteps echoed softly against the cracked concrete floor as he turned, facing Izuna fully. The dim overhead light buzzed, flickering once and casting a stuttered shadow across his face, briefly sharpening the lines of his expression.

“Where were you going with her alone in your car, Izuna?” He asked, his voice unnervingly calm and controlled, but there was a subtle edge threaded through the question. 

Izuna met his gaze without hesitation, arms crossed over his chest. “If you want details, ask your dear cousin,” he replied, his tone icy and distant. “I was just taking her home.”

A slow smile curled at the corner of Shisui’s lips, but the lightness in his voice couldn’t mask the cold steel lurking underneath. “Then you’d better be more careful when you’re with her, chief.” His eyes narrowed, dark and warning. “Otherwise, I can’t promise the police will turn a blind eye next time.”

Izuna scoffed, the sound low and dripping with dismissive disdain. He knew exactly what Shisui’s role was—keeping the police at bay, sending them on a wild goose chase when necessary to protect the Kobu. Whether he liked it or not, Shisui’s job was to protect him as part of the Kobu. Yet here he was, throwing empty threats and lashing out because a certain pink-haired girl was involved. 

“You’d do better bringing that threat to Madara,” Izuna challenged.

Shisui’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned against a crate, crossing his arms. “Great idea,” he said, voice bright with sarcasm. “Maybe if I tell him about you and Princess’ little car date, he’ll finish you off in my stead.”

Izuna resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It seemed like everyone wanted to mutiny these days. He exhaled sharply.

“Then you better drop that nickname if you don’t want to be the one to be ‘finished off’ instead.”

Shisui smiled as he shifted, now standing where Sakura had hesitated moments before. He gave a lazy wave, a hollow smile curling on his lips. “See you around, Izuna.”

Izuna didn’t respond, his eyes hardening as he watched Shisui’s retreating form. It was almost astonishing how two men bound by blood could carry such a fragile alliance, barely held together by years of shared history and unspoken grudges.

Walking back to his car, Izuna sat in the driver seat. His gaze drifted to the passenger side—empty now, achingly so, despite the small box of cake that still sat there, forgotten and out of place. He reached for it absentmindedly, lifting the flap, tearing off a piece, and bringing it to his mouth. The cake crumbled slightly between his fingers, and when he tasted it, it was far less sweet than he remembered. Still, the sugary notes that lingered on his tongue seemed to mock the quiet around him.

Finally alone, Izuna exhaled slowly, letting the tension seep out with his breath. His mind wandered forward to the future, seeking something softer, something gentle. A restaurant sounded like a nice idea, he mused. A quiet, tucked-away place known for its delicate desserts. A blossom-flavored cheesecake, he decided, its subtle sweetness offering comfort and hope.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

When Shisui stepped out of the garage, he found Sakura waiting just outside, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her expression was carved with irritation, her eyes simmering with impatience barely kept in check.

“Don’t scowl, Princess,” he teased, flashing an easy grin. “You’re going to get wrinkles.”

Sakura exhaled sharply through her nose, refusing to rise to the bait. “How am I getting home, Shisui-san?” She asked instead, her voice clipped and businesslike.

Shisui simply smiled and strolled leisurely toward a sleek white motorcycle parked along the wall, the faint scent of gasoline lingering in the air. The polished surface reflected their figures, its presence almost too conspicuous for the man who claimed to be helping her stay under the radar. She knew she heard a siren but she didn’t imagine it came from this.

Sakura hesitated. “Isn’t this… a police motorbike?”

Shisui chuckled, tapping a finger against the emblem on the side as if just now noticing it himself. “I am still on duty,” he admitted, winking at her. “But I always have time for a quick detour to you, Princess.”

She exhaled slowly, a dozen alarms went off in her head as her eyes fixed on the helmet now extended toward her in his hand. She wasn’t sure what made her more nervous, the fact that she was about to climb onto an active-duty police vehicle with a man who was both law enforcement and a criminal, or the way he leaned against the bike with effortless confidence, as if he belonged to both worlds and neither at the same time.

Why did this image suit him so well?

She swallowed hard, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”

Shisui’s grin widened. The way her eyes kept flicking away from him, only to return with even more intensity, sent a quiet thrill through him. Maybe he should wear the uniform more often.

His voice dipped into something low and teasing. “I’m honored to be your first.”

Blushing, Sakura opened her mouth to retort. But before she could speak, he stepped closer. The space between them shrank, and the warmth of his presence was suddenly all-consuming. 

With effortless grace, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingertips barely ghoseted against her skin. but the contact sparked a ripple of heat that startled her more than she cared to admit. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slid the helmet gently over her head, his hands sure and practiced as he fastened the strap beneath her chin.

Sakura blinked up at him, momentarily disoriented not by the gesture itself, but by the unexpected tenderness woven into it. For a man who moved like a shadow and wore flippancy like armor, his touch felt disarmingly reverent.

Shisui smiled down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. Sakura stared up at him, wide-eyed and slightly dazed, like she had a thousand questions but no words to ask them. Did she even realize how unguarded she looked?

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “I might just kiss you, Princess.”

The words hit her like a splash of cold water, yet heat crept onto her cheeks.

“Like I’d ever—!” 

But before she could finish, he tapped the top of her helmet with maddening lightness and pulled away. The distance he put between them was perhaps more for his own self-control than anything.

“Ready for your first ride with me?” he asked, tone breezy, but his eyes lingered on her just a beat too long.

Sakura fumed as Shisui pulled on his own helmet and swung onto the bike with an ease that spoke of experience, like he belonged on machines built for speed and risk. The moment he turned the key, the motorcycle rumbled a deep, throaty roar beneath him. He nudged his chin toward the empty space behind him, wordlessly beckoning her forward.

She hesitated only a second before placing her hands on his shoulders for balance, her fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of his uniform. With a careful swing of her leg, she climbed onto the back of the bike.

The realization hit her immediately—the bike wasn’t built for two riders. The lack of space left her pressed flush against Shisui’s back, feeling the heat radiating from him, seeping through the layers of fabric that separated them. The scent of faint cologne and something distinctly him curled around her senses, making it impossible to ignore just how close they were.

Uncertain where to place her hands, she hovered awkwardly for a moment before Shisui took matters into his own hands, literally. He reached down, grabbed her wrists, and wrapped her arms securely around his waist. The action was entirely too nonchalant for something that had Sakura’s face heating under the helmet.

Her palms came to rest against his stomach, undeniably firm beneath the thin barrier of his uniform. Oh.

She stilled, willing herself not to focus on how easy it was to map the defined ridges by touch alone.

The low rumble of the engine thrummed through the seat and into her bones, syncing strangely with the pounding of her heart. Every vibration ran up her legs, through her spine, until she couldn’t tell where the machine ended and her nerves began.

“Did you know girls pay good money to hug me this close?” Shisui teased, his voice muffled by the helmet but still carrying that insufferable smugness.

“Is this safe?” She asked instead, uncertainty threading through the words.

He let out a low chuckle, and she felt it more than heard it vibrating against her palms, echoing faintly in her chest. He kicked the stand up with a casual flick of his boot, the metallic clang sharply in the quiet neighborhood. Then, with a shrug as careless as the wind teasing through his dark hair, he glanced back at her.

“Probably,” he said, lips curling with mischievous ease. “Technically, it’s illegal to have a passenger on this bike.”

“What?!” Sakura’s voice cracked with panic, but the word had barely left her lips before the engine snarled and the bike lunged forward, the sudden motion making her stomach drop. 

She let out a short, startled gasp as momentum dragged her backward, only for her arms to tighten instinctively around Shisui’s waist. Her fingers fumbled for purchase, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. Beneath her palms, she felt the ripple of his muscles as he moved, adjusting effortlessly to the bike’s rhythm.

He laughed, the vibration rolled through her like a purr from the machine beneath them, as her  annoyance flared. Without thinking, she balled her fist and landed a firm punch to his side. It wasn’t hard enough to throw them off balance, but hard enough to make a point.

“Ow,” he drawled, clearly unbothered.

The city blurred around them as the bike wove through the residential streets. The wind roared in her ears, tugging at her hair, but she barely noticed. Her senses were flooded by the exhilarating speed and the controlled recklessness of it all. 

Then without warning, he jerked the bike into a sharp turn that sent Sakura’s world tilting sideways. A startled shriek tore from her throat before she could stop it. Her arms clamped tighter around his waist, hands clutching as if her grip could anchor her against the centrifugal pull. Her heart slammed against her ribs, wild and frantic, as the bike righted itself and raced forward again as if nothing had happened.

“Asshole!” Sakura screamed, breathless and furious, her voice nearly drowned by the rush of wind. She knew that he knew fully well that ridiculous, heart-stopping swerve had been entirely unnecessary. But all she got in response was Shisui’s low, easy laugh, rich with infuriating satisfaction.

But just like that, the ride was over. The bike rolled to a smooth stop in front of her apartment, the engine softening to a gentle purr beneath them. The sudden stillness felt jarring, her heartbeat still galloping as if the world hadn’t stopped spinning.

Sakura exhaled, only now realizing she’d been holding her breath.

She swung her leg over and hopped off in one fluid, if slightly wobbly, motion. Her legs trembled faintly, still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. She reached up to unfasten her helmet, but the clasp caught as her fingers fumbling over the latch in a flurry of frustration.

Then, before she could struggle further, warm hands brushed against hers. With an ease that only made her more flustered, Shisui undid the buckle and lifted the helmet from her head. Their eyes met briefly, just long enough to make her breath hitch, before she averted her gaze

“Thanks for the ride,” Sakura said curtly, tossing the words over her shoulder as she turned toward her apartment. She needed space to breathe and forget the sensation of his warmth still lingering on her skin.

Sakura expected to hear the roar of the engine, the quick departure that should follow. Instead, the deep clunk of a kickstand hitting pavement caught her attention as the bike’s hum faded into silence.

Sakura paused, her brow knitting. She turned just in time to see Shisui remove his helmet, ruffling a hand through his dark hair as he dismounted. And then, without hesitation, he started following her. Her heartbeat, which had just begun to settle, stuttered.

“What are you doing?” She asked, glancing back at him with a wary flicker in her eyes as she climbed the stairs. His footsteps following behind her was easy and unhurried, like there was nowhere else he needed to be but right here.

“Just escorting you to your door safely, like a good boyfriend,” Shisui said smoothly, his voice dipped in amusement, earning him a sharp glare from Sakura.

“Or officer,” Shisui added with a shrug, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Take your pick.”

Sakura rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. She wanted to snap at him, but knew better. Shisui wouldn’t back off just because he ran out of reasons, he would simply invent new ones. So instead, she sighed and turned away, climbing the last few stairs, choosing to ignore instead of feeding his smug little grin.

“Sasuke-kun doesn’t like it when you show up at our apartment,” Sakura muttered, casting Shisui a pointed look.

“Dang, he’s home?” Shisui asked with mock disappointment, the smirk tugging at his lips barely concealed. “All the more reason to get him used to it, then.” 

Sakura let out a long, weary sigh and shook her head. She was too tired to argue, anyway. So  they made their way to her door in silence, the hall quiet around them.

“Is that a new lock?” He asked, gesturing toward the second deadbolt now embedded in the doorframe, something that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been inside.

“I wonder why,” Sakura replied dryly. 

She slid the key into the lock, pushing the door open and immediately, the familiar scent of sizzling food greeted them. Sasuke stood at the stove, his back partially turned as he was cutting something on the countertop. At the sound of the door, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Welcome back—”

His voice halted abruptly as his gaze shifted past Sakura and landed on Shisui standing behind her. Instantly, his entire body tensed, his expression darkening. “Didn’t I tell you to never come—”

The rest of the sentence died in Sasuke’s throat when Sakura stepped forward with sudden urgency and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like home.

Sasuke froze for a fraction of a second. A thousand questions rushed through his mind, each one colliding with the next, but none made it to his lips. Slowly, he exhaled, the tension in his frame melted from his shoulders as his fingers slackened around the knife. His eyes softened as he took her in. Her body was warm against his, trembling just slightly.

Sakura knew, rationally, that he was fine. She hadn’t been the one to bring the police suspicion directed at him. But after a long day spent learning about all the burdens and restrictions in his life, worrying about him until it ached in her chest, seeing him standing there, safely and calmly amid the smell of home-cooked food and soft overhead light, undid her.

Her grip tightened before she realized it, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. She held on, grounding herself in the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint heat radiating through his clothes, and the quiet strength of his presence. In that moment, he was everything she needed.

But then awareness crept in like a slow, unwelcome tide. Suddenly, she became painfully conscious of how tightly and how long her fingers had clung to him. A flush of embarrassment flared in her chest like wildfire racing through dry brush. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to pull away.

“Sorry, Sasuke-kun, I—”

But his arm looped around her waist with startling certainty and pulled her right back into him. She collided gently against him, breath catching as her palms landed against his chest. And when his other hand lifted to hover for the briefest second before settling between her shoulder blades, she selfishly dared to hope that he wasn’t quite ready to let her go either.

On the other end of the hallway, Shisui watched the scene unfold in silence. His usual smirk faltered just slightly as his eyes narrowed. When Sasuke finally lifted his head and their eyes locked, his gazes were sharp and brimming with hostility. He lifted the knife in his hand, lazily pointed in Shisui’s direction.

“Are you the cause?” Sasuke asked, his voice devoid of warmth. He just knew one of his clan members had something to do with this if Sakura wasn’t acting like her usual self.

Unbothered as ever, Shisui let his smirk return in full. “I was actually the solution this time,” he said proudly.

Sasuke was quiet, but Shisui could practically hear the ticking of the clock in the back of his mind, each second bringing them closer to a confrontation. Sasuke’s cold gaze remained fixed on Shisui, like he was mentally preparing for the exact moment he could justify launching the knife at his cousin.

Sensing the building tension, Shisui let out a soft sigh, dropping the teasing edge from his voice. “She’s fine,” he said, his tone shifting to one of casual assurance. “Just a near run-in with the police.”

Sasuke’s gaze flickered to Sakura. She stood calm and composed, with no sign of the usual fear or exhaustion that often marked her after dealing with one of his family’s messes. No bruises or hints of distress. So perhaps Shisui was telling the truth.

Sakura would tell him what she wanted when she was ready; Sasuke didn’t need to press her now. What he did need, however, was for the intruder still standing in their doorway to disappear.

“Then what else are you still waiting for?”

Shisui, unfazed as ever, raised an eyebrow. “A cup of tea would be nice,” he said with a grin, completely ignoring the icy dismissal in Sasuke’s voice.

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed, his voice flat as he snapped, “Leave.”

Shisui let out an exaggerated sigh, dragging the sound out like a man burdened by great injustice. “Not even a thank you,” he muttered, his tone dripping with theatrical sorrow. 

The door creaked slowly in its frame as he stepped back, his presence retreating but not entirely gone, determined to linger as annoyingly long as he could. Until he heard it, a barely-there murmur slipped into the space between them.

“...Thank you.”

Shisui froze. His brows furrowed slightly, unsure if he’d actually heard it. The voice had been so quiet and faint, like a whisper trying not to exist, but it was unmistakable Sasuke’s.

Peering through the narrowing crack in the door, Shisui caught his cousin’s gaze and stilled. Gone was the usual glint of suspicion or icy sharpness. In its stead was a rare, unguarded softness that left Shisui momentarily speechless.

The door clicked shut between them then, yet Shisui stood there for a moment, still processing. Sasuke had never let his guard down like that before, not even with family.

A soft laugh escaped him, more breath than sound, as he shook his head in disbelief. Somehow, Sakura had managed to pull out both the scary and the soft sides of that boy. 

“What the hell did that girl do to you?” Shisui muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t even sure if the question was meant for Sasuke or for himself.

Threatening Izuna earlier had been out of line and out of character. Abandoning his post when he received her message had been completely reckless. He’d acted without thinking, moved without a plan. It was all instinct and impulse, and for what?

For her.

Shisui exhaled heavily, dragging a hand through his already-disheveled hair, fingers catching in the tangles of stress and regret. He knew he’d probably catch an earful from his supervisor later, that was, if he hadn’t blown his cover already with the police. 

Still, even with all that hanging over him, some part of him couldn’t bring himself to entirely regret it. He knew he would replay those fleeting looks she gave him today like a song stuck in a loop in his head until he got to see her again.

Chapter Text

As they’d agreed, Sakura and Sasuke had planned to head to Ichiraku together after class. But when Sasuke’s lecture ran long, Sakura found herself lingering near the station by their school, the late afternoon sun casting a soft amber glow over the pavement. 

She stood idly in front of the station entrance on her phone, her fingers absently scrolling through her screen, when an arm, casual and confident, slipped around her shoulders.

“Hey, did you wait long?”

Startled, Sakura's heart gave a startled jolt. “Sasuke-kun, you’re he—!”

But what greeted her wasn’t her roommate's familiar face, but a pair of mischievous eyes and a head of short, tousled waves.

“Shisui-san!” She gasped, blinking up at him in surprise.

Shisui lifted a hand in an easy wave, the smirk already tugging at his lips. “Hey, princess. What’d you think of my Sasuke impression?”

Sakura’s initial shock instantly morphed into a scowl. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm and attempted to twist it behind his back. But Shisui, ever the teasing shadow, slipped out of her grasp with frustrating grace. Sakura took a sharp step back, crossing her arms.

“What do you want, Shisui-san?” Sakura asked, guarded and curt, like a door barely cracked open. She wasn’t intending on encountering any of the Uchiha men again so soon after what happened with the police, especially this one. If Shisui was seeking her out, Sakura knew it couldn’t be anything good. 

Unfazed, Shisui tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking to the phone in her hand. “Is that new?”

Sakura narrowed her eyes, turning the device slowly in her palm as if it might reveal some hidden reason for his question. “No,” she replied flatly despite knowing fully well that Shisui already knew that. 

“Is it broken?” He persisted.

Sakura gave him a suspicious look, her patience wearing thin. “…No?”

He leaned in just enough to breach her personal space. “Then why haven’t you replied to my text, Princess?”

Sakura rolled her eyes, her irritation flaring. It had been a way for her to contact him during the incident with the police. But of course, Shisui had wasted no time turning it into an excuse to flood her inbox with memes, shameless flattery, and the occasional photo of himself.

“That’s because I blocked your number.”

“Unblock it then,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. His hand reached toward her phone, but Sakura snatched the phone away and slipped it deep into her bag.

“No way,” she retorted sharply, a hint of frustration in her voice. “I don’t need you blowing up my phone every five minutes with nonsense.”

Shisui let his hand drop and offered a casual shrug, the motion so smooth it almost looked choreographed. “Suit yourself. Just know I wouldn’t have had to follow you all the way here if you’d read my message.”

Sakura froze for half a second. “You followed me?”

He smiled, completely unrepentant. “I prefer ‘found you.’ It’s less creepy and more charming that way. You would’ve known if you’d just looked behind you like I messaged you to.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes, lips pressed into a thin line as she resisted the powerful urge to sigh. “Do you want me to get the police involved?” She said flatly, the threat clearly hollow but laced with enough annoyance to make her point.

“What do you think I’m doing right now?” Shisui countered with playful defiance, his demeanor unapologetically cheeky.

Sakura groaned and threw up her hands, clearly done with his game. “What do you want, Shisui-san,” she repeated, her voice strained with draining patience.

Shisui reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew an envelope, waving it between two fingers. “I’m here with an invitation.” 

Sakura eyed it suspiciously, taking note of its elegant beige color and the weighty, expensive feel of the paper.

Her brows knit together. “What is this?”

Shisui offered it again with that same crooked smile that always seemed a bit too pleased with itself. Reluctantly, Sakura accepted the envelope, turning it over in her hands as her scowl deepened with cautious suspicion. After a beat, she handed it back, arm extended as if distancing herself from something toxic.

“If this is more promotion for one of your host clubs, then I’m not interested in going again,” Sakura said firmly.

Shisui chuckled lightly, pushing the envelope back towards Sakura. “It’s not from me, Princess, it’s from your prince.”

Sakura’s eyes widened as panic flared behind them. She snapped her gaze to the envelope like it had just caught fire, then shoved it back at him with twice the urgency.

“Then I don’t want it even more! Take it back!”

But Shisui had already stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Sorry, can’t do. You touched it last so now it’s yours.”

“What?” She snapped, exasperated. “But I said I don’t want it!” 

Shisui simply shrugged again, infuriatingly calm. “I can’t help you with that, Princess.”

Sakura scowled at him, her brows drawing tight in frustration. Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched toward the nearest trash can.

“You’re welcome to do that,” Shisui called after her, cheerful as ever. “Though, you know I’ll just come back with more, right?”

Sakura froze mid-step, her shoulders locked in place. Her fingers were clenched so tightly around the envelope that it was just shy of tearing. A muscle in her jaw ticked as she stood there, caught between defiance and dread.

Behind her, Shisui chuckled, the sound maddeningly light. “I know you hate to see me go, but I actually only came to give you that—”

“Wait, are you leaving?” Sakura asked, caught off guard, but Shisui already spun on his heel and melted into the bustling crowd, weaving effortlessly between passersby. His laughter lingered behind him like a fading echo. 

“See ya, Princess!”

Left standing alone amidst the blur of hurried commuters, Sakura felt emotions churn in her chest. In every of their interactions, Shisui always lingered longer than necessary to get under her skin. Which was why his abrupt departure now felt jarringly out of sync. What Sakura didn’t know was that if Shisui had stayed a second longer, he might have snatched the envelope from her hands and tossed it into the nearest trash can himself.

This errand being the one he had so eagerly volunteered for, one he insisted he would take care of personally besides, Shisui needed to make sure Sakura received it, because she needed to accept it. It was the only way to end this once and for all. 

It wasn’t without risk, nothing worth doing ever was. But Shisui knew, with a quiet certainty, that Sakura would make the right choice. And once she played her part, once she set things in motion, it would be on him to make sure the rest of the plan unfolded exactly as it needed to.

So, with the messenger gone, Sakura glanced down at the envelope in her hand again, feeling its smooth texture beneath her fingertips. 

She knew she shouldn’t, but curiosity pushed through her resistance. So with a hesitant sigh, she slowly peeled open the flap and withdrew the content inside. Her heart thudded a little faster as she read the formal invitation adorned with intricate designs and elegant script. 

Only the setting and location of the meeting was printed and nothing else. On the back of the card was the unmistakable fan-shaped crest of the Uchiha clan inked in soft crimson and charcoal, almost easy to miss.

Not sure what to do, Sakura carefully slid the card back into the envelope and tossed it into her bag, where it nestled among her textbooks and medical supplies. Yet the weight of the invitation seemed to press against her thoughts. The symbol on the back of the card seemed to watch her from the depths of her bag, its presence a silent summons she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Because of their class schedules, Sakura and Sasuke often found themselves working the closing shift at Ichiraku Ramen. Luckily enough, this arrangement suited the bustling ramen shop well, especially on Saturday nights when the place was packed to capacity.

Usually, due to Sasuke’s rather blunt demeanor and near-total lack of finesse when it came to customer service, he was more often relegated to the kitchen to prepare orders with the same precision he applied to everything else. Sakura, in contrast, took the lead out front. She was polite and quick with a smile that made even the most impatient patrons feel seen.

Naruto, technically the manager of their modest operation, played the role of everything in between. Lately, however, he’d been quieter and more withdrawn. He’d admitted, somewhat sheepishly, that he wasn’t feeling up to facing customers, and had started his shift tucked away behind the kitchen curtain, stirring simmering broth and chopping scallions with a rare, contemplative silence. With Naruto temporarily out of the fray, Sasuke had no choice but to cover more of the floor with Sakura. 

The two roommates had exchanged a puzzled glance, but neither had voiced any objections. Sakura had actually sensed a subtle shift in Naruto months ago. He laughed less freely, smiled more out of habit than joy. There was always a flicker in his eyes, as if words perched on the edge of his tongue that never quite made it out. Sakura had chalked it up to Naruto being stressed with schoolwork, knowing how much he wrestled with academics, and the transition to college life hadn’t been easy for him. Still, Sakura couldn’t help but think that there might be other reasons not related to grades or deadlines. 

“Working hard again today, Sakura-san.”

The familiar voice tugged her back to the present. It came from a man seated at the far end of the counter, dressed in a charcoal business suit now slightly rumpled from the day. As she set a steaming bowl of tonkotsu ramen before him, he loosened his tie with practiced fingers.

He had been a regular long before she started working at Ichiraku. And like many of the middle-aged salarymen who filtered in from the nearby business district, he carried the air of someone clinging to routine—overworked, under-rested, and oddly comforted by the consistency of ramen at the end of a long week.

“You’re here early today, Kido-san,” Sakura replied.  

Her smile, bright and easy, drew the attention of the men seated nearby. There were casual glances over their bowls and not-so-subtle stares that Sakura often missed. Even when Sasuke had mentioned it, she had waved it off as him being overly cautious. 

She always treated her part-time job with an unflinching focus as she approached everything else in life. Ramen orders and polite conversation. Just kept her head down and kept moving. 

So when a customer stood and left, Sakura moved automatically, leaning forward to wipe down the freshly vacated seat beside Kido, lost in the rhythm of routine. That was why she was completely caught off guard when without warning, Kido’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist.

Sakura recoiled instinctively, yanking her arm back, the cloth falling from her hand and landing with a quiet splat on the counter.

“Kido-san?” Her voice was laced with alarm. She stared at him, eyes wide, reading his face for any signs of drunkenness or aggression.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quickly, raising both hands in a placating gesture. “I was just trying to get your attention, that’s all.”

With her heartbeat still quick in her chest, Sakura took a step back, keeping a measured distance. A nervous laugh escaped her as she subtly rotated her wrist, checking the sensation where his fingers had briefly wrapped around her skin.

“Do you want to order something else?” Sakura asked, forcing her tone into the light, practicing the rhythm of customer service. 

The man shook his head. “Actually, I want to talk to you, Sakura-san,” he began, his tone too friendly. “An entertainment agency our company works with is recruiting right now. They’re looking for fresh faces. And I think you should apply.”

Sakura blinked, not immediately sure she’d heard him right.

“I’m sorry?” She asked, the edge of confusion sharpening her voice.

“I mean it.” He smiled, almost earnestly. “They could make you an idol, Sakura-san. You’ve got the look, the charm. Wouldn’t you want that?”

Sakura hesitated, not because of her answer, but because she struggled to find the right way to let him down gently. The idea of becoming an idol seemed worlds away from her current path as a medical student and part-time waitress. She shook her head softly, the customer-service smile still on her face.

“I don’t think I have what it takes for that,” she replied.

Yet, whether the man didn’t catch her polite refusal or was deliberately choosing to ignore it, Kido leaned forward, a spark of insistent enthusiasm flickering in his eyes.

“Nonsense!” His tone was persuasive, almost urgent, like he truly believed he was offering her a life-changing opportunity. “You already have the look. That’s the hardest part. You just have to apply and the agency will train you in everything else.”

Sakura’s smile flickered, the edges of it faltering before she caught herself. She appreciated the compliment, but the medical field was her passion. The desire to help others was a calling that felt more real and fulfilling than the fleeting glamor of entertainment.

“I’m flattered by your offer,” she said again, her tone gentle but resolute. “But I don’t think I’d have the time for something like that.”

Taking into consideration the heavy load of schoolwork and her commitments at Ichiraku Ramen, she has only a few precious hours each day for chores and herself. Not to mention, the prospect of giving up her job to train for an uncertain future without pay was a daunting one.

Kido let out a laugh, a knowing look in his eyes. “Are you worried your boyfriend won’t like it?” 

Sakura blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden pivot in conversation.

“What—?” She began, but Kido was already gesturing with his chin toward the other end of the counter.

Sakura followed his gaze to find Sasuke jotting down an order for a table of impatient customers, completely oblivious to the conversation unfolding just a short distance away.

Her cheeks flushed hotly as she turned back to Kido. “We don’t have that kind of—”

“Don’t be shy!” He interrupted with a chuckle, waving his hand dismissively as if brushing away her hesitation. “I’ll talk to him for you. In fact, he should apply too. I bet your boyfriend will beg you to join once he hears the opportunity.”

Sakura’s smile cracked slightly. She cast a quick glance toward Sasuke just as he looked up from the table he was serving. Unintentionally, their eyes met and heat bloomed in her cheeks. She tore her gaze away at once, inwardly cursing the flush that gave her away.

She could call him over, just wave him into the conversation and let his mere presence end this nonsense. But that would be asking too much of Sasuke for something so patently ridiculous. Besides, she could handle this herself.

Her embarrassment simmered into irritation as Kido leaned in again, still pushing the fantasy he’d fabricated. Sakura straightened her spine, her voice edged with firm control as she turned her attention back to him.

“As I have said, Kido-san, I appreciate your offer, but—”

“The ‘boyfriend’ doubts that very much,” came a low, unmistakable voice from behind her.

Her head snapped toward the sound, and sure enough, Sasuke was standing there, his notepad still in one hand, his face unreadable save for the slightest lift of one dark brow.

“Sasuke-kun?” Sakura exclaimed in surprise. She hadn’t even heard his footsteps, just the quiet shift of air and his sudden nearness.

Lowering her voice, she whispered urgently, “What are you saying? We’re not—”

“Not official,” Sasuke finished smoothly, the words loud enough for Kido to hear.

Her eyes widened at his words. It was the very phrase she had once used in a desperate, clumsy attempt to deceive Itachi, an attempt she had hoped to bury deep in the past and forget altogether. She hadn’t expected Sasuke to remember it, let alone throw it out now, as if he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to say it aloud.

She stared at him, the question burned on her tongue. But his expression was a puzzle, an uneasy blend of guilt and shameless determination, as if he both regretted and stood firmly behind his words at the same time. But before she could find the courage to ask what he was really thinking, Sasuke already beat her to it.

“Naruto needs help in the kitchen,” he said simply. Then slowly, his hand reached out, his fingers brushed hers lightly as he gently took the towel from her grasp. The touch sent a jolt up her arm, a sudden static spark that scattered her thoughts.

Sakura hesitated. The kneejerk part of her wanted to clarify the misunderstanding, but another part of her was fine with letting people think otherwise. Wanted them to, even. So, when she glanced over at Kido with that persistent gaze still on his face, she gave Sasuke a small nod of appreciation before retreating to the kitchen. She’d been meaning to check on Naruto anyway.

Sasuke watched her disappear behind the curtain before turning back to Kido. If this man thought Sasuke would allow him to lure Sakura into the slimy, exploitative world of entertainment to enrich people like him, then he was sorely mistaken. In fact, Sasuke decided then that he didn’t want this man ever to come back here, to ever breathe the same air as Sakura’s. 

Sasuke didn’t raise his voice, however, he simply folded the cleaning towel once, then set it calmly on the counter in front of Kido.

“You’re done eating,” he said, not a question.

Kido’s jaw tensed. “Actually, I—”

“I don’t stutter,” Sasuke cut him off, his voice low and sharp.

Kido froze and for a moment, he looked ready to argue, his lips parting in protest. But then he caught Sasuke’s eyes and whatever bravado he had faltered. A chill licked up Kido’s spine at the sight of those black pools. It was a threat, he realized, and it was one Sasuke could absolutely deliver on. 

After a long beat, Kido reached into his wallet to pay before leaving, still in disbelief that this was his last meal at Ichiraku. 

As he walked out, Sasuke didn’t follow him with his gaze. He just picked up the towel again and resumed wiping the counter with slow, deliberate strokes as if he was scrubbing away something foul.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

In the kitchen, Sakura found Naruto hunched over the massive steel pot, absentmindedly stirring its cloudy contents. The rhythmic motion of the ladle clinking against the sides was mechanical. 

By now, it had been months since they’d last hang out with each other. College had swallowed Naruto whole, and all their shared shift had been a blur of orders, spills, and half-smiled greetings. But if Sakura was being honest with herself, she had been a little distant as well. 

Ever since the incident with Shisui, she still wasn’t sure what to make of Naruto’s involvement or even how to bring it up. But with that look on his face as if he was engaging in deep thought—had been in deep thought for a while now, Sakura had the sudden urge to reach out. Naruto and “thinking” rarely belonged in the same sentence. But when they did, it was usually a red flag waving in fluorescent neon.

“Naruto?” She called softly, her voice nearly lost beneath the hum of the overhead fan.

She stepped closer, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed beneath her touch, and then he blinked rapidly, like waking from a heavy dream.

“Oh, Sakura-chan,” he said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you here to rescue me from kitchen hell?”

Sakura didn’t smile back. She stepped closer, eyeing the cluttered counter, the half-chopped scallions, the broth simmering behind him.

“You’ve been acting kind of strange lately,” she said softly. “Did something happen?”

Naruto met her gaze, and for a moment, the ever-present mask of cheerfulness slipped. His smile faltered, brow furrowing with hesitation. His mouth parted slightly, then closed again, like the words were there but stuck somewhere too tangled to pull free.

“It’s nothing, Sakura-chan,” he said eventually, the words thin and unconvincing.

Sakura frowned. “You promised not to hide anything, Naruto.”

She didn’t press further but simply stood there and waited patiently, giving him the space to gather his thoughts. Naruto avoided her gaze as he continued to stir the pot. There was a beat of silence, then came a heavy sigh, slow and resigned, as Naruto’s shoulders slumped like a balloon losing air. Keeping things from Sakura was one thing, but lying to her was something he would rather not do if he could help it.

“I’ve heard something…” Naruto said, his voice low and slow, filled with a mix of uncertainty and concern. 

“About what?” Sakura prompted.

Naruto hesitated again as his eyes flicked up to meet hers. “You and Uchiha Madara.”

Sakura froze, blinking as if she hadn’t heard him right. But Naruto’s face told her he wasn’t joking. He, in fact, was searching for her reaction. The knot in her stomach tightened as a mix of disbelief and betrayal clouding her thoughts. She glanced toward the front of the shop, where her roommate was still serving customers, blissfully unaware of the conversation unfolding behind the kitchen threshold.   

“Did Sasuke-kun tell you?” She asked, careful to keep her voice low. 

Naruto nodded slowly, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I forced him to, Sakura-chan,” he admitted. “And what is this about you getting involved in Itachi’s plan?”

Sakura’s scowl deepened at his accusatory tone, even as he didn’t intend it to be. “And what about you, Naruto?” She countered. “When are you going to tell me about your connection to Uzushio and Kobu?”

Naruto’s hand froze mid-stir at the mention of the names. The ladle clanked softly against the rim of the pot, forgotten. His expression darkened with a mix of surprise and concern. 

“Did the bastard…?” He began, his voice trailing off as realization dawned on him.

Sakura shook her head, her arms wrapping defensively over herself. “Shisui-san was the one who told me,” she answered evenly, watching as recognition flickered in Naruto’s gaze. The two know each other, she realized. 

“Are you in on the plan as well?” Sakura asked, her voice betraying a mix of curiosity and concern.

Reluctantly, Naruto nodded as his gaze dropped momentarily.

“What does he want from you?” Sakura pressed. She could feel her pulse quickened as her mind spun with possibilities. She had witnessed the burdens Sasuke carried as the heir to his family’s legacy. Now, she feared Naruto might be walking a similar path, destined for a future not entirely of his choosing.

“Itachi is proposing a change in Kobu leadership,” Naruto said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation. “He wants my support and vote to become the next Oyabun.”

Sakura’s gaze softened immediately, the weight of guilt reflected in Naruto’s eyes stirring a protective ache within her. 

Bloodlines cast long shadows, Sakura could recall Shisui’s words. Whether he likes it or not, that last name carries weight in that world.

All this for tradition and legacy. She remembered how excited Naruto had once been to learn he was the heir to his clan. But now, Sakura couldn’t begin to imagine the weight of his disappointment the moment he realized the burden, the manipulation, the quiet, tangled schemes woven behind closed doors. The kind of world that didn’t care about ideals or dreams, only control. And worst of all, he had been keeping it from her to suffer in silence while pretending everything was fine.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Naruto?” She asked gently. “You’ve been so distant lately, I thought I did something wrong.”

Naruto studied her for a moment. “So you don’t hate me?” He asked tentatively, a hint of hope in his tone.

Sakura’s expression softened as she shifted closer. “I don’t hate you for lying, Naruto,” she said gently. “You weren’t the only one keeping secrets.”

Naruto shook his head slightly. “I was talking about my affiliation,” he said quietly, his eyes searching hers. “You’ve always hated the yakuza.”

He had hidden the truth from her for years, burying it beneath laughter and easy smiles, building a version of himself that was everything the yakuza weren't. Everything he thought she could trust. It was understandable that she feared them. Understandable, even if she feared him after learning the truth. And yet here she was. Still standing before him, smiling that soft smile.

“I might be a little scared of them,” she admitted honestly, “But I don’t hate you, Naruto. You didn’t choose to be one.”

Back in their school days, many of their classmates had kept their distance from Naruto without openly saying why. Sakura had always assumed it was because of the power and wealth his family wielded, but she now realized it was due to fear. She could still recall the disdain in their eyes every time they discussed the many rumors surrounding the Uzumaki, rumors she used to easily dismiss. 

Sakura had always been puzzled by the hostility Naruto faced. He had never carried himself with arrogance or entitlement even as those rumors shadowed him. Little did she know that one of those rumors would be confirmed by Naruto today, right in the middle of their shift at the ramen restaurant, where neither of them had been prepared for the conversations. Yet, despite the shock, the revelation brought a quiet sense of relief and closeness that neither had anticipated.

Naruto was the first to move, reaching out tentatively, as if unsure how to bridge the space between them. Sakura was the one who responded by pulling him into a hug, a gesture that was instinctive at this point.

“I’m so sorry, Sakura-chan!” Naruto cried as he held her tightly.

Sakura rested her head against his shoulder, pulling him closer. “Me too,” she murmured. “I just didn’t want to worry about these things.”

“But I want to!” Naruto pulled back just enough to look at her, his voice filled with earnest determination. “The only reason I’m helping Itachi is so I can keep you out of their infighting!”

No matter how much he hated being part of Itachi’s scheme, Naruto couldn’t deny that working from the inside made it easier to protect Sakura. He didn’t trust the Kobu and he knew better than to expect full access to their tightly held secrets. But even fragments of information could make a difference. And the hard truth was, he wouldn’t have access to any of it without Itachi.

Sakura gently stepped out of the hug, her hands resting on his arms as she met his eyes. “Naruto, I already made it clear with them that I don’t intend to involve myself,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “And besides, you told me you want to go into politics someday. I don’t want this to become a habit.”

Naruto’s brows furrowed, his voice rising indignantly. “Sakura-chan, I would never use the Uzumaki name for gains!”

A small smile broke across Sakura’s face as she reached up and affectionately pinched his cheek. “That’s not what I meant,” she said. “I can’t have you keep trying to save me when your connection could sabotage your chance of a career.”

She knew of the disadvantages a yakuza label could bring, the way it clung to someone like a shadow, tainting reputations and limiting futures. Her conversations with Izuna had laid bare the societal consequences, and Shisui had made it even clearer that the police weren’t just watching, they were hunting. The last thing she wanted was to see Naruto’s dream crushed under the weight of a plan riddled with risk.

“As long as you still believe in me, Sakura-chan,” Naruto said with a wide grin, one Sakura had missed dearly. “Besides, I’m going to have a top-notch lawyer defending my innocence.”

Naruto turned toward the doorway, where Sakura found Sasuke, someone she only now realized had been listening in. He leaned against the frame with practiced indifference, but his eyes narrowed in disapproval as Naruto’s arm remained casually around Sakura. His old self would’ve already knocked the blonde’s hand away without a second thought, but he wouldn’t give in to such immature impulse.

“I’m going to be a prosecutor.”

“Hey!” Naruto exclaimed, instantly releasing Sakura and whirling toward Sasuke with pure offense. “You’re the one who said we’re on the same side!”

But all he got in return was a condescending scoff and the faintest lift of Sasuke’s brow. 

“Don’t think I won’t drag you down with me if you try to throw me in jail!” Naruto continued, jabbing a finger in Sasuke’s direction.

Meanwhile, Sakura couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her two boys. She watched them fall into their usual rhythm, voices rising in arguments and threats filled with familiarity. Even with secrets laid bare and tensions still simmering, their bond felt more solid now than ever.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

As they walked back together toward the station, Sakura could feel Sasuke’s gaze lingered on her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the path ahead. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her jacket, fingers tracing the edges of her phone nervously. The click-clack of their footsteps echoed against the pavement, a steady rhythm punctuated by the occasional hum of passing cars and the distant chatter of pedestrians. 

Every so often, she risked a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His profile was sharp and serious under the glow of the city lights, lips pressed into a firm line. Sakura had an idea of what he was thinking about. His thoughts on the matter, however, wasn't something he was going to easily offer.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat, unsure of how to break the silence that stretched between them like a fragile thread. Admittedly, they had had quite an eventful shift at Ichiraku. Sasuke didn’t say anything at the time, but Sakura just knew he was just waiting until there was no one else around to address her embarrassing blunder.

“What was that back there?” Sasuke finally spoke, his voice low but pointed, slicing cleanly through the silence between them.

“What?” Sakura replied, a little too quickly to mask the nervous edge. The event that she was sure Sasuke wanted to talk about happened soon after her conversation with Naruto.

“I didn’t know I had a girlfriend,” Sasuke said flatly, though there was the faintest undertone of something beneath the deadpan delivery.

Sakura winced. Her cheeks flushed despite the cool night air, heat rising with the memory.

Predominantly, Ichiraku had mostly been occupied by salarymen. Since Sasuke had started working there, however, the dynamics had shifted subtly. More and more female customers from various age groups had begun frequenting the place, drawn by Sasuke’s quiet charm and enigmatic demeanor.

The atmosphere inside Ichiraku Ramen had changed too. The low hum of conversations now included melodic cadence of feminine voices, interspersed with the occasional laughter and flirtatious banter that Sakura couldn’t help but notice. 

The situation only slightly annoyed Naruto, who couldn’t help but notice how the female customers seemed more receptive to Sasuke’s presence than to his own. Despite this, Naruto understood the benefit Sasuke’s popularity brought to Ichiraku in the long run. Business was business after all. So he only made a jab at Sasuke every now and then about it. 

Lately, however, Sakura had started to find it irritating too. It was the way they looked at Sasuke like they knew him, when they didn’t. The way some of them brushed their fingers too close when handing over cash, or lingered at the door as if hoping he’d follow. 

While most of the female patrons were well-behaved, a small but noticeable portion seemed to be even rowdier than some of the salarymen they encountered since Sasuke had taken on the role of customer-facing work. Their laughter and boisterous conversations sometimes filled the air more than the clinking of glasses or slurping of noodles.

To anyone else, it might’ve seemed like harmless flirtation and lighthearted fun. But for Sakura, who had worked alongside both Naruto and Sasuke long enough to read the subtle shifts in their behavior, it was starting to wear thin. She could sense Sasuke’s discomfort in the way his answers grew shorter, the flicker of irritation in his eyes whenever he was interrupted mid-order. And though he said nothing, Sakura noticed the tension in his shoulders as he stepped away from yet another too-personal comment or lingering gaze.

“Is Sasuke-kun working today?” One of the female customers had asked, her voice laced with giddy excitement as Sakura set down their tray of steaming bowls.

Before Sakura could respond, the girl had spotted Sasuke in the kitchen and immediately shouted his name to get his attention.

“Please refrain from doing that,” Sakura had said with forced politeness, her words tight behind a strained smile. “You may disturb the other customers.”

These girls had become regulars, always arriving in pairs, always requesting the seats closest to the kitchen. Technically, they were paying customers, just like anyone else who came in craving a warm bowl of ramen. But unlike the salarymen or the occasional families who passed through, these girls brought a kind of energy that was too loud, too bold, and too fixated for the humble space.

Sasuke had paused mid-prep, knife poised over a cutting board, and offered them nothing more than a quick, emotionless nod. His face betrayed no irritation, but Sakura recognized the way his shoulders subtly tensed. She knew he wasn’t encouraging them, he never did, but somehow his silence and stoic charm only seemed to add to his allure and inadvertently fan the flames.

“Can you ask Sasuke-kun to come out here for a second?” One of the girls asked, her voice honey-sweet as she glanced toward the kitchen like she owned the place. “We just want to say hi.”

“You know you can take a break too,” another chimed in with a smirk, her tone more pointed and less subtle. “We’d really prefer if Sasuke-kun served us instead.”

Sakura stilled for a moment, tray in hand, the clink of ceramic bowls against lacquered wood lost under the blood rushing to her ears. Her grip tightened involuntarily as a sharp retort formed at the tip of her tongue. She was about to open her mouth to respond when a familiar hand gently caught her arm, drawing her attention away from what could have been a heated confrontation. Sasuke stood calmly beside her, his presence both reassuring and commanding.

His eyes met hers for a brief moment, I’ve got this, before he stepped in front of her.

“What do you need me for?” Sasuke asked. There was no warmth, but no malice either, just that distant civility, a model of restrained courtesy.

Predictably, the girls visibly lit up under his attention. One giggled behind her hand, while the other leaned forward, as if hoping to close the gap between them. Their tone softened, suddenly shy and girlish.

“Oh, nothing really,” one said, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers with a playful smile. “We just wanted to see your face.”

“You look as handsome as always!” The other chimed in, unmistakably flirtatious.

Behind him, Sakura folded her arms across her chest, shifting her weight to one leg as she exhaled slowly, doing her best not to let her irritation show. 

She was well-acquainted with Sasuke’s unintentional charm and its effect on others, especially women. Living with him, she grappled with her own feelings daily, making moments like these even more challenging to endure. The fact that this was the second time that night Sasuke had to intervene on her behalf didn’t help improve her mood. 

Was this how it would always be? Naruto risked his future for her safety and now Sasuke had to come to her rescue for every little thing? There had to be something she could do.

As usual, Sasuke responded with nothing more than a noncommittal grunt. But somehow, it was enough for the girls. At this point, Sakura couldn’t decide if she should feel pity for them.

“Sasuke-kun, you’re not seeing anyone right now, are you?” One of them asked, her voice laced with false innocence as she leaned too far over the counter, close enough for Sakura to smell the sugary perfume clinging to her skin.

Sakura stiffened, the words scraped at her nerves like sandpaper. She forced her shoulders to remain still, though tension climbed up her spine like a slow chill.

“I’m already here almost every day,” the girl added, her tone featherlight and coaxing. “We can get to know each other a little more if you like?”

Sakura’s stomach gave a small twist. She glanced toward Sasuke, trying to gauge his reaction, but his back remained turned toward her, unreadable, as always. She hated that about him sometimes, that maddening calm.

Logically, she knew he wouldn’t say yes, but a part of her couldn’t let go of the possibility that he might just entertain the idea. After all, just because Sasuke never showed interest in anyone didn’t mean that he wouldn’t start now. 

As much as she hated to admit it, the girls in front of her were stunning, effortlessly stylish, and confident. And Sakura was certain neither of them was naive enough to have been scammed into living with a stranger. So, would she be okay with Sasuke getting to know someone like that? 

She had always encouraged him to widen his circle, to interact with more people. This would be good for him, she knew. So if she was a good roommates and co-workers like she always wanted to be for him, she shouldn’t be the one—shouldn’t have any right to say—

“He can’t!” Sakura blurted, the words exploded from her before she could stop them.

The air went still as both girls blinked at her, startled. Even Sasuke turned slightly, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his profile, eyebrows raised in quiet surprise.

Sakura felt her palms slick with sweat, her heart thudding wildly against her ribs like a bird desperate to escape its cage. Her mouth had moved faster than her brain, driven by something fierce, and if she was being honest, something selfish as well. She knew she was treading a delicate line between protecting Sasuke and potentially causing more complications.

“Why not?” One of the girls demanded, her voice sharper now, eyes narrowing with a flash of challenge.

Sakura’s breath hitched as her pulse roared in her ears. She couldn’t reveal the truth that Sasuke wasn’t actually in a relationship without risking further advances from these persistent girls. Lying wasn’t something that came naturally to her, and the weight of her words hung heavy on her conscience, but she couldn’t back down now.

“Because…” she began, barely above a whisper. Then she straightened, her spine stiffening like a drawn bow.

“Because he’s already taken,” she declared. Her voice rang clear this time despite the uncertain tremble coiled just beneath it.

As the words left her lips, Sakura dared a glance at Sasuke. He met her gaze with an expression that was impossible to decipher. Whether it was shock, confusion, annoyance, or something else entirely, she couldn’t tell, all she could tell was that it made her stomach twisted tight and uneasy. 

Please understand, she thought silently. Please don’t be angry. She knew how much Sasuke hated people speaking for him, the incident with the old neighbor at the trash collecting site told her as much. Even though she knew Sasuke was kind enough to not expose her in front of strangers, a part of her feared his reaction once they were alone.

The girls exchanged glances, an unspoken judgment passing between them. One scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re just saying that,” she accused.

“Yeah,” the other chimed in, stepping forward, finger pointed squarely at Sakura. “Who are you to speak for him?”

Sakura instinctively stepped back, her heart pounded so loud it nearly drowned out the noise of the restaurant. Besides her, Sakura felt Sasuke shifted. He was about to intervene again, she realized, to stop the charade and end the lie before it grew any taller. But before she could second-guess herself, before fear could clamp down and silence her again, she lifted her chin and beat him to it.

“I—I’m the girlfriend!” She blurted. “Why can’t I speak up for my…boyfriend?” She added, but her voice faltered, stuttering around the final word like a child trying on a grown-up’s shoes. The word felt foreign in her mouth, like a spark that could either ignite or burn her.

The silence that followed was even heavier. The girls exchanged stunned looks, their previous certainty cracking into confusion. One opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. The other stared, lips parted, clearly struggling to reconcile the scene unfolding before her.

Sakura’s breath trembled as it left her. Her cheeks burned, her hands clenched at her sides. She couldn’t tell if she was mortified or proud.

Meanwhile, Sasuke’s eyes had widened in awe as his entire body stilled like someone trying not to disturb a moment too delicate to breathe through. He didn’t even know how many times he had imagined just telling her his true feelings, only to always end up swallowing them down. 

Now, faced with her bold, public declaration, Sasuke felt a rare shyness crawl up his spine. His heart slammed against his ribs in a frenzied rhythm, so fast he couldn’t be sure it hadn’t just stopped. He opened his mouth, but no words came. This had to be the first time in his life that he was speechless.

Sasuke’s gaze quickly dropped, flicking to the side as if eye contact alone might unravel him. He realized then that he didn’t know what to do with his hands—where to place them, how to hold them, as if they didn’t belong to him. 

A fierce heat surged across his face, flooding his cheeks and ears with a burning intensity as if she’d peeled back every layer he used to guard himself. And somehow, it was that very heat that compelled him to move, to raise a hand and press it clumsily against his face in a feeble attempt to hide the blush blazing across his skin. The warmth beneath his palm was so intense, it felt like it might sear his skin, as if even his own hand couldn’t bear witness to how exposed he truly was.

Sasuke realized he didn’t know what to do with himself and it was a rare and uncomfortable thing. It didn’t help that Sakura was looking up at him with those soft, imploring eyes, the color of early spring, full of hope and fear all tangled together; pleading eyes that silently begged him to play along. Didn’t she know he didn’t have to pretend?

Across from them, the girls visibly backed down, exchanging uncertain glances. Though clearly unconvinced, they were flummoxed all the same, caught off guard by the unexpected turn.

“For real?” One of them asked, voice dipped in cautious disbelief. Her eyes flicked between Sasuke and Sakura like she was waiting for the punchline to a joke.

When the girls finally turned toward Sasuke, they caught Sasuke’s gaze flickering downward, then, almost imperceptibly, he gave the smallest nod.

That alone was enough of an answer for the girls’ confidence to falter, replaced by reluctant acceptance. Realizing they’d stumbled into something private, they finally retreated, leaving Sasuke alone.

Sakura’s heart thudded so hard she was sure Sasuke could hear it. The plan had worked, but as relief settled in, a nagging doubt crept up. At what cost?

She turned toward Sasuke, ready to offer a quiet thank you for backing her up when the intense look in his gaze quieted her. His eyes were fixed on her, dark and piercing, like he was seeing straight through every excuse, every deflection. 

"You..." He started. The look in his eyes held her in place with something raw and unguarded. Sakura’s breath hitched at the sight, her heart pounding in her chest with anticipation. "I—"

The sharp sound of ceramic shattering against tile cut clean through the tension. Both of them jolted, heads snapping toward the noise. At the far end of the room, a child stared wide-eyed at the mess they’d made, ramen splattered across the floor in a chaotic sprawl. The parent beside them looked mortified, hurriedly apologizing.

Around them, customers glanced over with mild interest, but the disruption passed quickly as people soon returned to their food, conversations resuming like nothing had happened.

Sakura was the first to tear her gaze away, blinking back into the present as their conversation evaporated into the noise of the ramen shop.

When she glanced back at Sasuke, he was still looking at her, mouth slightly open as if trying to reclaim the words lost to the moment. But then the child began to cry, Sasuke exhaled quietly, the tension in his shoulders shifting into something resigned.

He caught her eyes once more, as if saying they would visit this conversation later. Then, with a slight nod that was awkward, almost bashful, he slipped away without a word. But as he stepped away, a faint flush still colored his cheeks.

Sakura watched him go, her chest tight. It was a little discouraging to watch him walk away like that, but she couldn’t fault him for it. They were still on the clock, surrounded by noise and people, not the kind of place where delicate feelings could be untangled properly.

Besides, she doubted he had the words for it yet. She certainly didn’t. It hadn’t just been unexpected, it was awkward, messy, and personal in a way that left little room to breathe. It was probably as embarrassing for her as it was for him to lie about their true relationship. All Sakura could do was hope he wasn’t too upset with her for lying. 

Yet, despite the silence, she could feel his gaze lingering on her throughout the rest of the shift. The hours dragged on endlessly, hours that Sakura spent spiraling further and further into her insecurity and relentless second-guessing. She’d made a horrible mistake, she decided at the end of it all, as the knot of regret tightening in her chest. 

Even after the adrenaline had gone down now as they walked home together, the flush of mortified embarrassment refused to subside, burning hot and raw beneath her skin. All she had left were clumsy defenses that she hoped could patch the cracks of her impulsive confession.

“Those girls always disturb the other customers,” she said aloud, as if doing so might make it true. “If I hadn’t lied, they would’ve just kept going.”

For a moment, Sakura felt a pang of guilt. She had acted on instinct to protect him, but even then, deep down, she knew it was only an excuse, and a selfish one at that. Now she wondered if her deception had only complicated things between them. Yet she couldn’t deny the flutter of satisfaction at seeing those persistent girls finally back off.

Sasuke glanced over at Sakura, studying her quietly before letting out a disappointed huff. “Is that so?”

So it really is just a lie after all. Still, he couldn’t shake the memory of the moment he heard her announce their fake relationship. It was strangely flattering and comforting, even if it was all for show.

“Well, you did the same thing with Kido-san!” Sakura shot back, her voice edged with defensiveness. She was just stepping in to protect Sasuke just as he had done for her. And, technically, Sasuke had pulled the same move first during Itachi’s unexpected visit to their apartment.

“He was harassing you,” Sasuke replied calmly despite the turmoil underneath.

“And so were the girls,” Sakura countered, crossing her arms stubbornly. Then, as an uninvited thought crept in, her pout deepened. “Unless you were seriously planning to get to know one of them?”

Sasuke turned his head slightly, catching the subtle downturn of her lips. There was a faint crease between her brows, her eyes avoiding his for once. His heart jolted, skipping a beat at the vulnerable expression she wore. Fearing a repeat of his earlier reaction, when he’d felt utterly lost, unsure of himself, and certain he was making a fool of himself, Sasuke quickly averted his gaze.

“Are you upset?” He asked cautiously, his voice laced with a flicker of hope.

Of course she was. 

“No,” she lied quickly, looking away as a faint flush rose to her cheeks. “I was just going to apologize if that’s the case.”

Sasuke let out a heavy sigh, the sound soft but weighted with disappointment. He had hoped for something more reassuring, but he knew better than to let his hopes climb too high.

“Were you upset I intervened?” Sakura echoed, her voice more timid now as she searched his face.

He shook his head slowly, but the shadow of his own disappointment lingered in his eyes.

Sakura let out a breath of relief that Sasuke misunderstood. She’s just being considerate, he reasoned. She’s just glad she didn’t make a mistake.  

Sasuke didn’t think he had ever considered getting to know anyone besides Sakura. But despite the realization about Sakura and Naruto’s platonic relationship, Sasuke still felt a sense of inadequacy. 

He had told himself he was rebelling against his father by refusing the role of successor, but in truth, he’d only been running. Running from expectations, from his own fears, from the weight of everything he wasn’t ready to face. He’d believed he was prepared to be honest with her, to finally say what had lived unspoken in his heart for so long. But now, in the quiet aftermath, it was clear that there was still a part of him that needed to change, to grow, to become someone truly worthy of her.

He knew all this. He’d made his decisions long ago. And yet, when the moment finally came, when the air between them crackled with possibility, Sasuke couldn’t help but reach desperately for some kind of confirmation. To know how she saw him. To hear, just once, what he meant to her. To finally, truly, confess what he had kept buried.

But it was a selfish wish because he knew he couldn’t return her feelings. Not yet. Not when there was something he still needed to do. Not when he was still shackled by the fears he hadn’t conquered. Until he could face them, until he could become the man she deserved, he should, and would content himself with being her roommate.

Next to him, in an effort to distract herself from spiraling down into the void of embarrassment, Sakura let her thoughts drift to a different problem, one that had been at the back of her mind since the beginning of the shift. 

The invitation was small, but it felt like it had been weighing down her entire bag. It wasn’t much lighter, however, when she finally pulled out the envelope, its presence oddly ominous despite its elegant appearance. Sasuke glanced at it curiously, his dark eyes catching the subtle sheen of the embossed Uchiha crest on the back.

Staring down at it, Sakura hesitated. When she had first received the letter, her thoughts had gone immediately to what Obito had told her about Madara—his reach, his power, and most of all, his persistence. Running away didn’t feel natural or logical to her. Madara was as determined as she was stubborn.

Then there was Shisui’s advice echoing in her mind. Don’t fight back, ask for help. But that was easier said than done. She didn’t want to involve Naruto, especially after she told him she wouldn’t get pulled in. And truthfully, she didn’t want to rely on anyone else to solve this for her. 

The answer was simple, at least in theory. Sakura knew what she had to do. The hard part was convincing her roommate.

“Sasuke-kun?”

“Hn?” He responded. The sound was deceptively casual but beneath the surface, there was a faint edge of uncertainty, as if he was sure he wanted to hear the topic that might follow.

“Ok, don’t panic but—”

Sakura didn’t even have to look at him to feel the tension immediately roll off him in waves, his shoulders rigid as he braced for bad news.

“What happened this time?” Sasuke asked, his voice edged with concern.

“Um… Madara—” 

“No,” he interrupted, his expression sharp with immediate rejection.

Sakura stomped her foot in frustration. “Let me finish!”

Sasuke didn’t like where this was going, especially if it had anything to do with Madara, but he crossed his arms and braced himself for whatever bomb she was about to drop, his expression guarded yet attentive. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she continued carefully. 

“Madara-sama invited me to have dinner with him tomorrow,” she said, the words tumbling out with unnatural clarity. “And… I think I should go.”

Sasuke’s gaze sharpened instantly, brows drawing together in quiet alarm. He didn’t say a word, but his body was tense, his narrowed eyes fixed on hers. Every part of him screamed don’t.

Sakura shifted under the weight of that silence. Her fingers instinctively twisted the hem of her jacket, betraying the nervous energy simmering beneath her calm façade. Still, she didn’t flinch away. Sakura swallowed hard, meeting Sasuke’s gaze with unwavering determination. She knew she had to choose her words carefully to make him understand.

“Think about it, Sasuke-kun,” she said, a hint of urgency in her voice. “If I meet him face-to-face, there won’t be any room for miscommunication.” 

If one conversation, one honest exchange, could lift the weight of all of them—Sasuke, Naruto, and herself—then what was stopping her besides her own fear?

Sasuke’s eyes bore into her, his jaw clenched though he didn’t speak as Sakura pressed on. “And if I handle it right, this could be the last time we ever have to deal with Madara.”

Sasuke’s brow furrowed, the tension in his expression deepening. Uncertainty and dread flickered across his features like passing shadows. Her reasoning made sense, and yet his instincts screamed against it.

He knew she was capable, strong-willed, and unshakeable when she set her mind to something. But this situation with Madara was different. Who knows what that man would do? The man was dangerous in ways that didn’t always leave bruises. Still, that final thought lingered. A chance to sever ties was clearly an attractive idea to Sasuke and Sakura knew this. 

“What if it doesn’t work?” He asked, a whisper of every worst-case scenario he couldn’t stop playing in his head.

“Do you trust me, Sasuke-kun?” Sakura’s voice softened, a plea beneath her question.

Sasuke hesitated, his gaze flickering between doubt and resignation. He appreciated her asking for his opinion, but at the end of the day, it was her decision to make. 

Finally, he let out a slow breath. Then, with the smallest of nods, he answered not with words, but with trust.

Chapter Text

Since the meeting was set in a luxury hotel owned by the Uchiha enterprise, Sakura felt compelled to make an effort, especially with how important this conversation could turn out to be. In her mind’s eye, she pictured polished marble floors gleaming under crystal chandeliers. That image alone made her hesitate at her closet a moment longer. So she spent extra time brushing her pink strands. The hanging ruby earrings she borrowed from Ino swung lightly as she moved.

Truthfully, the idea of dressing up this nicely just for a meeting with Madara felt ridiculous, but the excuse to wear something elegant was too enticing. After all, where would she dress like this back in her hometown full of paddy fields? 

The transformation felt exhilarating, as if she was slipping into someone poised, confident, worldly. For once, she didn’t feel like an imposter despite looking like the version of herself she'd only imagined in fleeting daydreams. 

Even Sasuke had traded his usual indifference for formality, dressed sharply in a tailored suit that hugged his frame, determined to not to give Madara even the slightest reason to find fault with them. The sight of him adjusting his tie and smoothing his jacket made her heart flutter with a mixture of pride and anticipation. He was striking, untouchable, but most important of all, he was right beside her. His presence grounded her, as it always had, even when things were uncertain. 

If only for a little bit, she’d like to imagine that they were going on their own date to a beautiful restaurant. Only for a little bit, she’d let the wish she was too afraid to say aloud to linger as they approached the grand entrance of the hotel together.

The moment they stepped across the threshold, Sakura’s senses sharpened. The grandeur of the lobby was both beautiful and intimidating, with gilded trim, towering columns, and a chandelier overhead that shimmered like a frozen cascade of stars. 

Unconsciously, Sakura’s eyes flicked to Sasuke. That single glance was all it took for him to reach for her hand, his fingers curling gently around hers. His touch was warm and solid with a quiet strength that sent a ripple of calm through her. In that moment, Sakura knew with absolute certainty that no matter what happened, she wouldn’t face it alone. 

“Keep your phone with you,” he said quietly, his voice low but edged with concern. “And remember that I’m just downstairs.”

She gave a quick nod in response, her fingers still tingling from his touch. They had agreed beforehand that Sasuke would wait in the lounge on the ground floor, within reach but out of sight. If Madara could take rejection with any measure of grace, this wouldn’t take more than half an hour. But Sasuke knew better than to trust that the conversation would go as smoothly as Sakura wanted it to. Still, he had promised not to intervene unless she asked him to.

“I’ll be fine, Sasuke-kun,” she reassured him, offering a small, confident smile despite the flutter of anxiety in her stomach.

Sasuke nodded, albeit reluctantly, as his dark eyes scanned her face for any sign of hesitation. She could feel his protectiveness like a warm blanket around her shoulders, but this was her mess to fix, and she needed to face it on her own.

As they made their way through the opulent lobby, Sakura quickly spotted Obito near the elevator. He stood poised and still, dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that was as sharp as his demeanor. 

Obito’s eyes met her, and for a moment, she was struck by the intensity of his gaze, as if he was cataloging the shape of her presence. And yet, beneath the sharp edge of observation, there was a softness she couldn’t quite name.

Sakura drew in a steadying breath, catching the delicate scent of fresh flowers drifting through the air that blended seamlessly with the rich aroma of polished wood. She straightened her posture, willing her nerves into stillness. The tight rhythm of her heart was a mixture of determination and trepidation. But Sasuke was right next to her, lending her the courage to press forward.

“Sasuke, Sakura-san,” Obito greeted, his voice formal and controlled, revealing nothing beneath the surface.

Sasuke responded with a curt nod but didn’t offer anything else. His cold and calculating eyes were fixed on Obito. But from Obito’s indifferent expression, Sakura assumed he was already accustomed to Sasuke’s frosty demeanor.

“Good evening, Obito-san,” Sakura returned the greeting, her voice calm despite the nervous flutter in her chest. She could feel Sasuke’s tension beside her like a wall of support and caution.

“Madara-sama is waiting upstairs.” Obito called for the elevator with a press of the button, waiting for the soft chime that broke the charged silence. With his gaze lingering on her, he held the door open with his hand. “Whenever you’re ready, Sakura-san.”

Sakura took another deep breath and nodded. “I’ll be heading up now.”

As she stepped into the elevator, her eyes met Sasuke’s briefly, catching the deep frown etched across his face.

“Be careful,” he murmured, his voice thick with something almost like regret for agreeing to this in the first place.

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed as they shifted to meet Obito’s with a glare, but Obito held his gaze without flinching. His expression was inscrutable but every bit as intense. 

Sakura, unsure of what was being conveyed in their silent conversation, offered Sasuke a reassuring smile and waved, trying to ease the heavy atmosphere. “Don’t worry too much,” she said, her voice soft but determined. “I’ll see you soon.”

Sasuke stood rigid, every muscle taut with his protective instincts held at bay, until the elevator doors slid shut with a soft, definitive thud

Please take care of her.

Inside the elevator, only the soft hum of machinery accompanied Sakura’s upward journey. With each ascending digit marking the increasing distance between them, her apprehension deepened. The cool, sterile air of the elevator felt sharp against the lingering warmth of Sasuke’s presence still vivid in her mind.

As if sensing the tension coiling within her, Obito finally broke the silence. “I didn’t expect Sasuke to be here,” he said, his tone casual but edged with curiosity.

Sakura glanced up at Obito, who stood silently beside her. His eyes were fixed ahead on the closed elevator doors. 

“I think he was a bit too nervous to just wait at home,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

Obito let out a soft scoff. “What is he? A chihuahua?”

Sakura covered her mouth when the giggle unexpectedly bubbled up from her at the image. Obito turned slightly, just enough for her to catch the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, perhaps, even a flicker of pride that his dry humor had managed to draw something real and unguarded from her.

“He’s just a worrywart,” she said, her voice softening with affection. “I don’t think he likes Madara-sama very much.”

Obito let out a huff of breath that Sakura imagined usually accompanied a roll of one’s eyes.

As the elevator neared its destination, Sakura instinctively straightened her posture, smoothing the fabric of her dress. The polished metal walls reflected her image back at her, a vision of  resolve.

When the elevator doors slid open, Sakura was hit with a sense of déjà vu. Obito stepped out first, holding the door for her just as he had the first time they’d met. This time, however, she didn’t hesitate or engage in a staring contest with her escort. Instead, she confidently stepped forward and followed him down the hallway.

“Are you nervous?” Obito asked, glancing at her as concern leaked into his voice.

Sakura gave a small shake of her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I felt fine downstairs, but I guess I do feel a little on edge now.”

With quick strides, they finally reached the door leading to the penthouse, where Sakura could make out the subtle scent of fresh flowers mingling with the sharp hint of expensive cologne. Everything about it whispered wealth, power, and carefully curated appearances.

“Don’t be,” Obito said quietly, reassuring. “He won’t try anything.”

Sakura nodded, more to herself than to him. “Right. It’s just dinner, anyway.”

But before she could turn away, Obito reached out and gently caught her wrist. The unexpected touch made her pause, prompting her to turn and face him. His grip was only firm enough to hold her attention. “I won’t let him.”

Sakura looked up at him, her gaze lingering on the determination etched into his expression. In that moment, she decided that she trusted his words, that she trusted him. A soft smile bloomed across her face, warm and radiant, and she gave a small nod. The sincerity in his eyes was enough to fill her with a renewed sense of courage.

“I’ll be right outside this door,” Obito added firmly. 

He seemed like he wanted to say more, to offer her assurance and protection, but under the intensity of her gaze, Obito suddenly felt an urge to avert his eyes, afraid he might have overstepped some kind of boundary again. Slipping back into his professional tone, he extended a hand.

“Your coat, Sakura-san.” 

As prompted, she quickly slipped out of the thick cardigan draped around her shoulders and handed it to him. Obito took a moment to glance over her outfit. She wore a burgundy dress with a bow tied elegantly at her hip. The midi dress just passed her calves, flowing gracefully with her movements. She also wore simple yet stylish black heels, and carried a sleek black clutch that completed her sophisticated look.

“You look great,” Obito remarked, allowing a small smile on his lips.

Sakura felt heat rise to her cheeks as she thanked him. She didn’t get to dress up this much often, so every compliment made her feel deeply flattered. It was a weird feeling to feel both special and out of place.

“Are you ready?” Obito asked, his voice shifting into something more serious as they stood before the grand entrance to the main room.

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied, steadying her breath.

Obito gave a short nod before moving to open the door.

From the architecture downstairs, Sakura had expected modern lines, cool marble, and minimalist furniture. But when Sakura stepped into a world that looked nothing like the one she'd come from, what truly stole her breath was the sea of flowers. They were everywhere, cascading from towering crystal vases, blooming in poetic clusters along walls and tables, each one meticulously placed as if part of a living art piece. The scent was sweet yet delicately balanced, like a perfume crafted to linger but never suffocate. It felt like stepping into a greenhouse in the heart of a palace.

Beyond the vast floor-to-ceiling windows, Tokyo's night skyline glittered like a field of distant stars. The dark horizon stretched endlessly, making her feeling both dazed and deeply aware of how far she was from home. Still, she let Obito guide her through the flower-laced room toward the dining area. 

Madara stood beside a table set for two, the soft light casting shadows across his sharp features. The table itself was startlingly modest amidst the grandeur, but the surrounding flowers made the area feel like a hidden corner of a secret garden carved out just for them. 

Sakura’s eyes flicked with curiosity as Obito leaned in and whispered something into Madara’s ear. Whatever it was, it drew the faintest scoff from the older man. Without another word, Obito straightened and slipped away, leaving her alone with the host of the evening.

“Welcome, Sakura,” Madara said. His voice was smooth with a warmth that didn’t quite soften the intensity behind it.

His presence was both imposing and unsettling as he approached her in a dark striped suit that fit him like armor. His movement was unhurried, like a man who never needed to raise his voice to command the room. 

Whether it was due to the sheer overwhelming bloom of the room or the fact that she hadn’t seen Madara in such a long time after what transpired between them the last time they stood this close, Sakura didn’t know. Regardless, her pulse stuttered in her throat like a visceral reaction she couldn’t hide. And without meaning to, she took a step back. The motion was small but unmistakably retreating. The words she was trying to voice got tangled in her anxiety and the moment.

Madara’s gaze flickered with the faintest hint of understanding before it softened. “You look absolutely stunning tonight.”

Despite herself, Sakura couldn’t help but blush under his intense gaze. She wondered why she couldn’t focus when she was with him. His presence was almost magnetic, a pull she both resented and craved. 

“Thank you, Madara-sama,” she managed. “You look very handsome as well.” 

Madara’s smile widened. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing his name fall from her lips like that. The girl standing before him now was a far cry from the sharp-tongued, combative girl he had first encountered. Perhaps she had finally learned that he wasn’t just some cunning businessman. Still, there was a particular charm in this softer version of her. Madara could still see the fire beneath her gaze, quiet but alive, and somehow, that made her composure all the more intoxicating. 

“How gracious,” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “You always did know how to disarm.”

“I…, um,” Sakura began, her voice wavering from a sudden surge of anxiety before she squared her shoulders and tried again. “I actually came today because I have something to tell you.” 

Madara tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving her.

“Then let’s talk over some food,” he said, calm as still water as he held out his hand. The gesture was coaxing, perhaps even insistent. “You’ll speak more clearly once your hands aren’t shaking.”

Promptly, Sakura’s hands flew together, fingers knotting tightly in front of her as though she could shield from him what he had already discerned. She had intended to make the meeting quick, to deliver her message and leave before she had time to second-guess herself. But now, with Madara’s eyes fixed on her, she hesitated. 

Would it be rude to use this one chance to blurt it out and rush off right now? How would Madara react? Would it affect Sasuke somehow? Her mind raced with outcomes she couldn’t predict, each one adding to her growing unease. 

If she had any chance of getting through to Madara and leaving unscathed, it would be when he was at ease. And if there was one thing she understood about people, even someone as unreadable as him, it was that a well-fed heart was often more agreeable. So, against her own instincts, Sakura placed her hand in his outstretched palm. 

His grip was firm yet warm in a way that surprised her. It wasn’t the cold grasp of a yakuza boss, nor the lifeless feel of a weapon forged only for violence. Worse, there was something unsettlingly human about it and, strangely, it reminded her of earlier, when Sasuke had taken her hand in his. 

Unbiddenly, Sakura wished it was Sasuke who was now guiding her to her seat. With him, it might’ve felt like a dream realized, like stepping into the role of a romcom heroine finally swept off her feet by the one she loved rather than someone whose intention slid just beyond her reach. 

When Madara pulled out a chair for her, it struck her that he was probably used to doing this for women, used to being the one in control and setting the tempo of every encounter. But the moment she sat down, positioned at the heart of the space, surrounded by a sea of vibrant blooms and rich greenery, Sakura had to pause in awe. 

She had to commend Madara for his effort with the breathtaking setting. Sakura had always loved flowers and it was as if the space had been curated with her in mind. So despite her caution, she couldn't help but feel it would be a waste not to let herself enjoy it, even a little. The atmosphere was disarmingly lush and serene, seducing her senses even as her mind remained alert. Amidst the scene surrounding them, it was hard for her not to get caught between the tight coil of nerves and the flutter of something dangerously close to excitement.

But then Madara settled into the opposite end of the table with that same unhurried composure, Sakura felt a wave of uncertainty ripple through her again. The distance between them was smaller than she expected, intimate in the way that made her feel exposed to his scrutiny beneath the soft flicker of candlelight and the heady scent of florals. 

To make matters worse, dining at such an upscale setting was a first for her, and the array of cutlery neatly arranged before her seemed daunting. She glanced around the meticulously set table, trying to recall any fragments of dining etiquette gleaned from movies and magazines. Drawing on a vague memory, she delicately unrolled the linen napkin laid before her and draped it across her lap. 

Ok, good job, you know how to do that at least, she praised her small victory.

Across the table, Madara watched her with a faint smile, as if he could read every flicker of thought behind her eyes. With a subtle nod, he signaled the server, and the room seemed to shift around his will. From the shadows, attendants appeared as if summoned by his presence alone. They presented each dish with efficiency and an air of ceremony that mirrored the elegance of the setting.

“I trust you’ll enjoy it, Sakura.”

With a soft “Itadakimasu,” Sakura reached for her utensils, ignoring the weight of Madara’s gaze on her. Though he said nothing, his quiet amusement was palpable at how delicate she looked across the table, trying to follow all the unspoken rules of his world.

“Some wine for you as well?” He offered, already nodding to the waiter before she could respond.

As her own glass was filled, Sakura offered a polite bow of thanks. “I guess a little drinking won’t hurt.” In fact, this might just be just enough to gather the courage to speak what she came to say.

“Cheers,” Madara toasted, raising his glass while Sakura mirrored his action, the delicate clink of their glasses resonating in the intimate ambiance of the place. 

Despite her lack of experience with it, Sakura took a small gulp of the wine. It was warm and sharp on her tongue, the bitterness blooming across her palate. She swallowed it down along with the knot of nerves in her throat, trying to mask the involuntary twitch of her lips. But Madara easily caught the wince she hadn’t quite hidden. The sight caused an amused smile to curve his mouth, as if her discomfort was a private indulgence.

As the waiter brought out the next course, Sakura found herself reaching for her glass again and again. What had started as a hesitant sip became something more natural as the wine no longer tasted quite so bitter. In fact, she discovered that it complemented the dishes and enhanced the flavors in ways she hadn’t expected.

“Do you often come to this part of the city, Sakura?” Madara asked, his voice carrying a casual curiosity.

Sakura took a moment to hastily chew her food before responding. “Not really,” she admitted, glancing out at the glittering skyline as a soft laugh escaped her. “I’m sure you can tell that this isn’t really my scene.”

“Isn’t it?” He murmured, more to himself than to her, before a chuckle escaped him.

“Pity,” he said, his gaze settling on her with a slow intensity that made her pulse skip. “You wear it better than most of the people born into it.”

Sakura felt a sudden heat bloom in her cheeks at his compliment, unsure whether it was the wine finally taking hold or the power of his words. Across the table, Madara leaned back with the ease of someone who owned not just the room, but the air within it. The candlelight sculpted his profile in soft gold as he regarded her for a beat longer than was comfortable.

“You mentioned you have something to say,” Madara prompted at last. His wine glass was balanced effortlessly between his long fingers, untouched for the moment. 

“Y-yes, I—” Sakura began nervously, but Madara didn’t let her finish.

“Although,” Madara interrupted, smooth as glass, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something as well.” 

Sakura sat up instinctively as she waited for him to continue.

“I was informed that you visited my little brother’s office last month.” He paused there, the silence felt intentional as his gaze lingered on her. “I wasn’t aware the two of you were… familiar.”

His smile returned, slower and more measured this time. “Should I be jealous?”

Sakura felt her pulse quicken at his question, but she kept her expression calm, reaching for her wine. The rim of the glass was cool against her lips as she took a sip, more to buy herself a moment than the taste. She considered brushing off the comment entirely. The last thing she wanted was to peel open the delicate layers of whatever Madara thought he understood about her and Izuna.

“We aren’t,” she replied, placing her glass down with care. “I was simply escorted to his office to discuss a misunderstanding.”

Madara swirled the wine in his glass thoughtfully. “Oh yes, I’ve received first-hand accounts of that little… ‘escort’ you’re referring to.”

From Shisui and Obito’s account, it seemed Sakura had been thoroughly caught off guard. Her misunderstanding of their intentions eventually led to a scuffle in the confined space of the car.

“You pulled a knife on them,” Madara continued, his voice deceptively calm despite the bitterness beneath. “The very one you once pointed at me, if I’m not mistaken.”

Shisui had claimed that he was able to defuse the situation with words alone, though Madara  questioned how much of that was the truth. He knew Shisui well enough to recognize when the younger man was smoothing over the jagged edges of a story.

Ultimately, he should’ve felt satisfaction that she wasn’t defenseless, that she proved once again worthy of him. Yet irrational jealousy burned low in his gut. That knife, the one she'd once dared raise to him in a moment of furious defiance, was pointed at another man, for another moment without him. 

Madara couldn’t help but wonder if she had looked at them with those same storm-lit eyes full of fire and fear and unspoken challenge? Had they felt the same wild, electric thrill she’d once ignited in him? It almost felt like a betrayal that the violent intimacy he had coveted like a sacred, private moment wasn’t theirs alone anymore.

Part of him wanted to reclaim, to remind her who she had first turned that fury on. But instead, he took a long, quiet breath through his nose, reining in the thought before it could sour his expression. This wasn’t the setting for that, especially not when the girl sitting across from him didn’t wear violence naturally. The fire in her had to be earned. The thought that another man had come close to coaxing this rare blaze born of pressure and proximity made something dark and corrosive curl within him.

Obito and Shisui had been lucky, or perhaps wise. If either of them had laid a hand on her, Madara would’ve made certain neither walked away unscarred. Or walked away at all.

​​Sakura froze for the briefest moment before trying to compose herself, her fingers tightening slightly around the stem of her glass. She didn’t know how much he’d been told, but clearly, it was more than she would’ve liked. Her cheeks flushed a shade of red in embarrassment as the memory resurfaced. 

“I’m usually not that violent,” she said quickly, her voice stumbling over the excuse. It sounded weak even to her ears and the wine didn’t seem strong enough anymore. “I was just caught off guard by those two.”

It probably didn’t reflect well on her that she not only threatened him, but also his clansmen, all with the same blade. The knife had been a lifeline in those moments, but under Madara’s scrutiny, it felt less like self-defense and more like provocation she hadn't meant to issue twice.

“No, they deserved it with how that ‘escort’ was carried out,” Madara said, his voice almost strained. “Frankly, I was very impressed with how you handled it.”

As her blush deepened in spite of herself, Sakura could not help but wonder why she felt a touch of pride at his approval. Perhaps it was because he was the only person who truly understood why she did what others dismissed as reckless behaviors. As much as Shisui’s reasoning made sense on paper, how could she have just done nothing when a hand was wrapped tightly around her throat? When she was shoved into the back of a strange car, trapped and powerless? It wasn’t like there was anyone then for her to ask for help.

“T-thank you,” she managed to reply. I guess? She was half grateful, half unsure of what she’d just earned.

“So, what did you and my brother talk about?” Madara began, leaning in just slightly, the flickering candlelight tracing the sharp angles of his jaw. His eyes were dark and probing as he took a slow sip of wine. “Not about me, I hope?”

Involuntarily, Sakura grimaced, not prepared by the bluntness of his question.

“Oh? Did I hit the bullseye?” Madara prodded gently, his curiosity sharpening. He’d already heard Izuna’s version of their meeting, but he wanted to hear her side, wanted to know if there were details or subtleties his brother might have glossed over, intentionally or unintentionally.

Sakura’s mind raced. There was certainly information mentioned during the meeting that she didn’t want to reveal. But she knew lying was out of the question, she could only choose her words and tread carefully with a resolve born from the wine’s warmth.

“Izuna-san was only worried that I was taking advantage of you,” Sakura said, her words calculated. It wasn’t exactly a lie per say. “But I explained to him the situation of our first meeting, and we came to a mutual understanding after that.”

Madara’s gaze sharpened as he studied her. He wasn’t entirely convinced that their conversation had been so clean and straightforward, but Sakura’s confident demeanor left little room for immediate suspicion. He couldn’t accuse her without more concrete evidence, especially when both Sakura and Izuna seemed to corroborate the same story. Was it coincidence, collusion, or the truth?

“I see,” Madara replied evenly. “And he hasn’t contacted you since?”

Sakura immediately pushed back the memory of the shared cheesecake in Itachi’s apartment. That encounter was better left buried if she was unsure Izuna and Itachi had reported it to Madara. Given how those two were working together behind Madara’s back, Sakura found that idea unlikely.

Technically, it was Itachi who had contacted her, not Izuna. So she shook her head, watching as Madara nodded thoughtfully, like a man storing away puzzle pieces for later. Her heart thudded in her chest as silence stretched between them.

“What about Obito or Shisui?”

Another shake of the head. She didn’t trust her voice now when even her pulse felt too loud. It was taking all of her to maintain a neutral face, but it seemed this time it didn’t work. He quickly zeroed in on the flicker of hesitation in her eyes as they briefly darted away from his.

Madara let out an inpatient sigh. “You should know I don’t appreciate being lied to, love.”

Sakura’s spine straightened instinctively. “I have seen them around the city sometimes,” she replied quickly. Not a lie by another technicality. “But I think that’s because they worked somewhere near Kabukicho?”

She tried to keep her tone light, conversational, but even she could hear the tremor beneath it. Madara’s eyes stayed fixed on her, weighing every syllable and flickering in her expression.

Madara could tell she wasn’t being all truthful, though, he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. Both Obito and Shisui had sworn that they’d disclosed everything; that neither had contacted her since the so-called escort without his direct command, yet doubt lingered. 

He didn’t like this creeping distrust toward his own blood given how their organization was built on loyalty forged through generations of discipline and control. But ever since Itachi's proposal of new leadership, those foundations had begun to shift beneath his feet. Madara had started noticing small cracks, conversations halted too quickly, and pieces of information reaching him later than they should have. All of this didn’t feel like coincidences and Madara couldn’t silence the thoughts that there was more unfolding behind his back than he was aware. 

Madara exhaled slowly, the sound more of a weary release than a sigh. This dinner was unraveling, slipping away from the calm, pleasant evening he had envisioned. 

Sakura, sensing the shift in his mood, felt a flicker of panic rise in her chest. She’d answered all his questions with as little information as possible, but had she accidentally said something she shouldn’t have? Her mind scrambled for a way out, a way to steer them back to safer ground.

“This had been a lot of questions, Madara-sama,” she said with a soft laugh, the sound light but just slightly strained. “Shouldn’t we just enjoy the dinner you’ve so carefully prepared?”

His eyes lingered on her, sharp but tired, taking in her nervous smile. He wasn’t sure if the damage had already been done, if the distrust he had let seep into his tone had pushed things past the point of return. Still, even as his better judgment urged him to pull back, another part of him couldn’t help but tug at one more thread.

“I recognized that I’ve been overly inquisitive,” he said, pausing just long enough for her to swallow down her sip of wine. “But in my position, I have a duty to ensure those under my command are conducting themselves properly so what happened during your escort doesn’t repeat itself.” 

Sakura gave a small, almost automatic nod. She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with this, but she hoped desperately that the conversation might soon shift to something lighter. Something that didn’t feel like walking a tightrope.

“I’m sure you know how much of a handful they can be,” he added, tone dipping into something more pointed. “Especially since you’re sharing an apartment with one of them.”

Sakura froze, the blood draining from her face as his words sank in like cold iron. Across the table, Madara’s gaze never wavered. It seemed to catalogue every flicker of her reaction with unnerving precision. So he already knew.

“T-that’s only due to—”

“A misunderstanding, I’ve been informed,” Madara cut in smoothly, his voice calm but edged with scrutiny. “Are you having problems with money, Sakura?”

“I—” Her voice faltered as she struggled to find the right words. She shook her head again, unsure if she was denying any financial issues or simply trying to process the sudden turn of the conversation. The possibility of Madara discovering her circumstances had always been a concern, but facing it now felt surreal. How would this affect Sasuke? What should she do?

“I trust Sasuke has been conducting himself appropriately with you?” Madara pressed.

Sakura nodded, a bit too quickly. “He’s been very cordial,” she replied, her voice carefully controlled. “We do our best to stay out of each other’s way in the shared space.”

Madara studied her closely, like he was listening more to what she wasn’t saying. 

“You know,” he said slowly, “if you want to move to a new apartment, I’ll gladly help you arrange that.” There was a subtle insistence in his tone now, a persistence that brushed against concern.

Sakura’s mind was scrambling to keep pace, sorting through implications and possible motives. For a split second, her panic threatened to show, but she buried it quickly beneath a polite smile. 

“Thank you, Madara-sama, but that won’t be necessary,” she replied evenly, careful to maintain a respectful tone. She didn’t dare look away even though every instinct screamed at her to. Her smile held, but her heart thudded in her chest like a warning drum. “I think both Sasuke-kun and I have found each other to be quite compatible as roommates.”

Then, with a soft, apologetic curve of her lips, she continued. “Besides, I’m too stressed with schoolwork to even think about moving right now.”

The excuse was reasonable. Her delivery was flawless. But for Madara, only one detail echoed.

Sasuke-kun. The name tasted as bitter as the wine he was drinking. It appeared that he was also here tonight, uninvited.

Madara knew he should have been more diligent in gathering intelligence on Sakura’s private affairs, especially whatever dynamic existed between her and Sasuke behind closed doors. But digging too deeply would have posed more than logistical challenges; it would have risked unraveling the trust he’d been trying to build with her that would eventually lead to affection. Either way, restraint felt more like a liability now than a virtue.

“Is that so? I’m glad.” The words were polished and composed, but Sakura caught the faint skepticism beneath. “But if you ever change your mind, I’m always here to help.”

“That’s very kind of you, Madara-sama,” Sakura replied with a small nod, masking her inner turmoil with practiced politeness. “Maybe after this year.”

She couldn’t shake the feeling that Madara’s offer held deeper implications than mere generosity, but for now, she chose to accept his words at face value, instead of delving deeper into the complexities of their conversation. She would probably have to untangle what all of this meant for Sasuke and what to do moving forward later with him.

Meanwhile, Madara was increasingly disinterested, if not exasperated, with the direction of their conversation. She had answered every one of his questions yet it only seemed to deepen his unease and worsen his mood.

If he intended to enjoy this date and to truly connect with her rather than interrogate her, then pressing further would only sabotage that goal. Further investigations were necessary, but perhaps right now was not the time. In fact, the problem wasn’t her, it was what surrounded her. What threatened to pull her away from him. Still, the night wasn’t lost. There was time to salvage it.

As the evening continued, the undercurrent of tensions continued to linger between them. But after courses came and went, Sakura finally saw the finishing line. All that was left after their conversation was the dessert. 

Given how attentively Madara had tailored the evening, from the décor to the wine selection, Sakura shouldn’t have been surprised to see a bowl of anmitsu placed before her. What did surprise her, however, was how elegant the humble dessert looked.  

Delicate cubes of translucent agar jelly nestled among dollops of sweet red bean paste, pastel mochi balls, and perfectly arranged slices of fruit. A light syrup pooled at the base, catching the glow like morning dew. It was all so artfully composed that for a moment, Sakura’s fingers itched to reach for her phone, but she stopped herself. 

“It’s beautiful!” She breathed, the words slipping out before she could temper them.

Beyond the dessert itself came another relief that this was the final course. There were no more probing questions or tension, just something sweet to end the night. The thought brought a smile to her lips, genuine and unguarded for the first time all night.

Excitedly, Sakura picked up her spoon and dipped it into the sweet creation before her, savoring the first bite with visible pleasure.  

Madara watched her over the rim of his own bowl, his gaze lingering on the way her eyes lit up. It wasn’t the same fire he’d seen in her fear or defiance, but it was warmth all the same, and he found himself drawn to it. He wasn’t particularly fond of dessert, but somehow, it didn’t taste half as bad when paired with her sweet smile. And for a brief moment, the awkwardness and tension between them seemed to lift.

“How was it?” He asked, his voice softer now, stripped of its earlier edge.

“Simply delightful,” Sakura replied with a light sigh, gently setting her spoon down. “I didn’t know anmitsu could taste even better than it already does.”

The familiar flavors were a tiny comfort amidst the elegance and the unspoken questions still suspended in the air between them. As the final dishes were cleared away, they were left with only their freshly refilled wine glasses and the quiet hum of the evening settling between them. 

Sakura only waited for the last servant to bow and leave before grabbing the opportunity to broach the subject with Madara. She tipped back a generous sip of wine, feeling the warmth of the liquid courage spread through her and fortifying her nerves as she prepared to speak.

“Madara-sama, if I may.”

Madara set down his wine glass, his expression attentive at Sakura’s sudden change in tone. “I’m all ears,” he replied calmly, his eyes focused on her.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Sakura began. “I know we met under the pretense of papakatsu, but as I explained to you during our first meeting, it’s not something that I engage in.” She paused, allowing Madara a moment to absorb her words. “That’s why I’m here tonight to let you know that I won’t be accompanying you in the future, or anyone else for that matter.”

Madara appeared to contemplate her words, his expression unreadable as the silence stretched between them. Sakura held her breath and braced for whatever might come next, may it be disappointment, anger, or something worse.

Rejection was never easy, no matter who you were. But this felt way worse knowing that she was a nobody rejecting someone leagues above her. He was a man who could destroy her with a look if he so chose. The imbalance in power was absurd, but she held his gaze, refusing to shrink away from the discomfort she had chosen to cause.

After a long, heavy pause, Madara finally looked up at her. “I understand,” he said. His voice was eerily calm and the contrast between his composure and her coiled nerves was almost disorienting. The acceptance in his tone eased some of her anxiety, but not all. She couldn’t read him and that made the moment all the more unnerving.

“Y-you do,” she echoed, nodding once, as if saying it aloud might make it feel more real. But something told her it couldn’t have been this easy.

Madara mirrored the gesture with a slow, deliberate nod. Then, with a subtle shift, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Something in his presence hardened.

“I’ll have your share of tonight’s bill sent to your address first thing tomorrow,” he said, the warmth draining from his tone into something distant. “I expect it to be paid in full by the end of the week.”

Sakura’s eyes widened in alarm. She had been too focused on doing what felt right to pause and considered the financial consequences of walking away. Speaking of which, did she even pay for that drink before she bolted from their first date? And now, the extravagance of the dinner, the wine, the courses, the curated ambiance, all loomed like a ledger over her head. But If she wanted their connection to be clean, honest, stripped of favors and debts, then she couldn’t expect him to foot the bill. Still, the realization that she couldn’t afford even a fraction of it hit hard.

“I—That—I will, of course, pay you back, Madara-sama,” Sakura confessed, her voice tinged with unease as she mentally calculated the daunting sum. “But I might need a few weeks…” A pause. “Or months…”

Sakura wasn’t sure what to make of this development. She hadn’t expected Madara to so coldly deliver his demand like a final blow, but she expected even less for Madara to suddenly erupted into laughter the next. The sound was deep and unrestrained, echoing through the hushed elegance of the room. Bewildered, Sakura stared at him, unsure of how to interpret his response to her admission. 

After a moment, Madara composed himself. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his smile still playing at the edges of his lips, though his eyes now shimmered with mischief.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice smoother now. A flicker of apology danced in his expression, but it was tangled with amusement, as though her panic had been oddly endearing. “I might have taken my joke a bit too far there.” 

Relief flooded through Sakura as she processed his words, her face flushing with embarrassment at her initial misunderstanding, yet doubt still lingered. Sakura braced herself for another twist until Madara offered her a reassuring smile, one that was unusually soft for someone of his reputation.

“It wouldn’t be right for me to make you pay for a dinner I invited you to,” he said, his head tilting subtly in a way that was equal parts refined and boyish.

Unbelievable, she thought. Even though she now knew it had been a joke, Sakura was still slightly flustered. She hadn’t expected the yakuza boss, of all people, to have a sense of humor, let alone one this strange and dryly executed. Her pulse was only just beginning to settle, and she wasn't sure whether to laugh or glare at him.

Letting a quiet sigh escape him, Madara pushed back his chair. Then, with that signature, measured grace, he crossed the small distance between them and came to a stop at her side. He held out his hand to her, a silent invitation that left her momentarily unsure of what to expect. 

“Forgive me?” Madara asked, his voice softened by something more sincere, almost careful. 

For a moment, Sakura didn’t move. His hand hovered just a short distance away, and though the gesture was simple, it disarmed her more than any lavish gift or apology could. There was no force in his touch nor command in his voice now, only quiet patience.

Finally, with cautious curiosity, Sakura placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. Then, with a flick of his fingers, the ambient lighting in the room dimmed, casting a soft, intimate glow over the area. Around them, the floral arrangements blurred into a dreamlike canvas of pastel colors. Soft music played, filling the space with a gentle melody that seemed to wrap around them. The transformation was so seamless that she couldn’t help but feel swept into it, like stepping into a dream she hadn’t agreed to, yet couldn’t bring herself to step out of.

Sakura looked up at Madara, as if silently asking whether he had planned all of this even though she already knew the answer. His usual intensity had softened, replaced by a gentle warmth she hadn’t seen before.

“If this really is our last date,” Madara said, “can I have this dance?”

Sakura hesitated, her mind flickering with thoughts of her waiting roommate downstairs and the implications of staying longer. The amount of wine she had consumed made the idea of spinning around felt reckless, but it also made her more open to the idea. It didn’t help that she felt a twinge of guilt about cutting short an evening that seemed meticulously planned. Perhaps extending their time together for this dance could ensure a smoother conclusion to their last meeting, especially after witnessing how much effort and money Madara had spent on her.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Sakura admitted, her voice barely carrying above the gentle melody in the air. Standing this close, she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. His height was imposing, making her feel smaller than usual.

Up close, with the low lighting casting soft shadows across his features, it was easy to forget the darker paths he often walked. Without that knowledge, one might mistake him for a storybook figure; Someone unreadable, self-assured, and devastatingly composed. It wasn't hard to imagine women lining up for his attention, vying for even a fraction of it.

But then Madara’s expression softened even more. When the edges of his mouth tipped into a small smile, Sakura had to wonder if she had just caught a rare glimpse of the tenderness buried deep inside, or if it was just another carefully crafted illusion, another weapon in the hands of someone who had long since learned how to bend hearts to his will.

Sakura didn’t have time to untangle her thoughts though, because without a word, he guided her a few steps forward onto the improvised dance floor amidst the elegant surroundings. Then, with deliberate slowness, he raised her hand to his shoulder and let his own rest lightly against the small of her back, pulling her closer. 

“Then just follow my lead,” he encouraged, his voice low and assured. 

Then he began to move, guiding her with an unhurried rhythm. His steps were fluid and his posture were relaxed, as if the dance belonged to him and he merely invited her in. 

Sakura struggled as expected. Her movements were stiff and awkward, every step feeling a second too late or too early when her thoughts spun faster than her feet. She worried about stepping on him, about looking foolish, about why this felt so strangely intimate. 

But despite her stumbles, Madara’s expression remained calm, save for the quiet glint of amusement in his eyes whenever her foot faltered or she looked up in silent apology. He didn’t correct her, didn’t flinch or frown, only watched her with that same patient, unnerving composure.

“Don’t worry about your steps,” he murmured, his voice threaded seamlessly through the soft melody surrounding them. “Just look at me.”

Sakura swallowed nervously as she met Madara’s intense dark eyes. The rare warmth in his gaze managed to anchor her, easing the flutter of uncertainty in her chest. Slowly, she allowed herself to surrender to the music and his lead, following his cues more instinctively than consciously. 

As they danced, the world around Sakura began to soften and blurred at the edges. The wine in her system dulled her usual sharpness, leaving her light-headed and her thoughts slipping through her fingers. Each graceful turn and synchronized step with Madara now felt strangely effortless, like surrendering to something outside of her control. 

The sensation of being in his arms, their bodies moving in sync with the music, created a sense of weightlessness she hadn’t expected. It was as though the floor had vanished beneath her, and she was suspended in a dream woven from warmth, rhythm, and dim light. Sakura didn’t even know when her initial apprehension had given way to a sense of unexpected tranquility.

“I see you’re finally enjoying yourself, Sakura,” Madara remarked, his voice tinged with satisfaction as he observed her unabashed giggle, a gesture that surprised even herself.

“People don’t dance like this at clubs and parties,” Sakura said, her voice light with amusement, though her cheeks burned with a mixture of excitement and the warm haze of wine. 

Madara’s smile widened, a flicker of pride evident in his gaze. She barely felt it when he tightened his hold on her ever so slightly.

There was something deeply satisfying in the sight of her loosening, finally moving without resistance. But holding her like this was more than a fleeting pleasure, it was a thought that had lingered in the back of his mind since their first encounter. Now, as they moved together in perfect rhythm, her presence fitting so easily against his own, he didn’t want to let go.

Maybe it was the wine swirling through her veins, or the soft music wrapping around them, but when Sakura’s eyes met his, a shiver traced its way down her spine, equal parts anticipation and unease.

When she had first met him, his hands had gripped her neck with ruthless authority. She’d seen him as the cold and commanding yakuza boss. But now, as they spun slowly in each other’s arms beneath the soft glow of light and the gentle strains of music curling around them, it was becoming harder and harder for her to reconcile the images. His hands now felt warm against her back, his dark eyes shimmering with a tenderness that unsettled her. Not because it was unwelcome, but because it blurred the lines. Which was the real Uchiha Madara?

“What are you thinking about, love?” His voice was low and smooth, carrying a rare softness that made her skin tingle. Guided by his touch, they moved closer to the wall, where a cluster of vibrant flowers seemed to sway along with them to the music. With deliberate care, he plucked a bloom and tucked it behind her ear, a vivid splash of color that perfectly matched her dress. “Or have you fallen for me?”

Sakura snorted, a delicate sound that barely masked the sudden flutter in her chest at Madara’s unexpected gesture. “Is this what you do to steal the heart of every girl you meet?” Her voice held a teasing edge even as her cheeks pinked.

Madara chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “Why? Is it working?”

“No,” Sakura replied, feigning nonchalance as she looked away, unable to hold the intensity of his hypnotic gaze for too long.

There was no denying the fact that she was on a date she had never imagined for herself. The kind of magical night she had only seen in films, where the characters fall into each other’s arms, and the world feels suspended in a perfect moment before the promise of a happily ever after. She might not have fallen for him, but Madara had undeniably made her heart flutter in a way that left her both exhilarated and unsettled.

“Sakura.” 

Her breath caught in her throat as Madara gently lifted her chin. The touch, both tender and commanding, sent an unexpected rush of heat through her veins. His dark eyes locked onto hers, filled with a raw sincerity that stirred emotions she hadn’t expected to feel on this supposedly final date. 

“There is no other girl.”

Sakura furrowed her brow, a hint of doubt and amusement in her expression. “You can’t expect me to believe that you’ve never done this with anyone else.”

Madara shook his head slowly, his gaze never faltering, burning with conviction. “There is no other girl,” he repeated. Only you.

Sakura’s mocking smile wavered, dissolving into a tangled mix of confusion and hesitation. Her heart beat a little faster as conflicting emotions swirled inside her. She wanted to trust his words, yet years of skepticism and self-preservation cautioned her against being swept away by charm, especially from someone like him.

If what Madara said was true, if he truly meant her, then suddenly things made sense. She finally understood why Izuna had been so insistent about her dating his brother despite all their differences. But even then, Sakura couldn’t reconcile with the reason why.

“Madara-sama,” Sakura began, her voice soft yet probing. “I wasn’t even supposed to go on that date, but you never contacted my friend after that.”

You became interested in me, why? Madara could hear Sakura’s unasked question. 

His smile didn’t fade, only softened. His eyes locked onto hers with a calm certainty, as if the answer was the simplest truth in the world.

“Because you reminded me of someone I know, a dear friend,” Madara replied, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

Sakura blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected confession. A mixture of curiosity and understanding stirred in her chest, a delicate dance of emotions she hadn’t anticipated to feel toward someone like him. “What was she like?”

Madara paused, his gaze distant for a moment, as if lost in memories. “She was poised and elegant, with a strength that belied her gentle demeanor.” His voice were threaded with both admiration and a touch of melancholy. “But most of all, she was fiercely loyal to my best friend, the one she loved.”

Sakura’s brow creased, her gaze melting into tenderness. She knew all too well the ache of unrequited love. “Did you love her?” She asked quietly.

Madara shook his head slowly, a rueful smile playing at his lips. “I was fond of her, but she was not mine to love.” His voice was honest, touched with something bittersweet. “Though I’ll admit, I was jealous of Hashirama.”

Sakura tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching his face, catching the subtle shift in his expression. “I don’t understand,” she said, her curiosity now wrapped in genuine compassion. “You said you didn’t love her.”

“No,” Madara clarified, his expression softening. “But she loved him. Fully. Fiercely. Unconditionally.” His voice was quieter now, almost reverent, as though he were speaking of something sacred. 

It wasn’t about that dear friend he had mentioned, Sakura realized. It was about what they had. 

It was an odd mixture of intrigue and confusion listening to a rough-looking yakuza boss speak so reverently about love. For someone deeply entrenched in a male-dominated business and the yakuza world, it was equally surreal to hear him describe a woman in such high regard. Still, Sakura couldn’t help but wonder how any of the qualities he described could apply to her.

“This person you’re talking about,” Sakura began cautiously, trying to reconcile Madara’s words with her own self-perception. “That’s not who I am.”

Madara’s response came swiftly, tinged with something playful and unexpectedly fond. “Of course not, love,” he said, a glimmer of amusement and pride flickering in his eyes. “You’re the one who threatened to stab me in the heart with a pocket knife.”

Sakura blinked, surprised that Madara had chosen to recall that moment from their first date. It was a bizarre compliment, yet strangely fitting given Madara’s position. The look in his eyes wasn’t mocking, it was instead, admiration.

“When I had regrettably put you in that situation,” Madara said, his voice low, tinged with reminiscence, “I saw the fear in your eyes turn to fire.” He paused, his gaze settling on her like a memory he hadn’t let go of. “That’s when I knew you were different. That I had to see you again.”

Sakura furrowed her brow, feeling a mix of surprise and uncertainty at Madara’s candid confession. It was such a weird way to meet someone for the first time, and an even weirder way to become infatuated that Sakura didn’t know whether to be flattered or deeply confused. 

“Madara-sama, I told you I’m not involved in the papakatsu agency anymore,” Sakura reiterated, hoping to clarify her intentions.

Madara’s smile faltered, letting out a long exhale. “Would you only see me if money was involved?” He teased, yet a sliver of vulnerability slipped beneath the charm. 

“That’s not what I mean,” Sakura said quickly, her cheeks flushing with heat not just from embarrassment, but from the wine that made her tongue feel too thick. She had enjoyed the weightlessness the alcohol brought, but now she hated the way it dulled her reflexes, made her movements clumsy, and her thoughts just a little slower.

In her distracted state, her heel came down awkwardly on his foot. “Ah—sorry!” She blurted, her hands flying up in flustered panic. “I didn’t—”

As Sakura frantically tried to defend herself, Madara chuckled warmly. His laughter echoed softly in the dimly lit room, as if her unpolished honesty was something he found charming.

“Sakura.”

Her name, spoken so clearly and firmly, cut through her flustered haze. Sakura stilled and looked up. His gaze met hers, and something in those eyes made it hard to look away.

“Let me court you.”

Madara’s direct offer made Sakura blush a deep red. His eyes seemed to pierce into her, and in her slightly tipsy state, she could have sworn they gleaned more crimson than black. Her heart raced with a mix of intrigue and unease.

But this is wrong.

Sakura placed a gentle hand on Madara’s chest, applying just enough pressure to create space between them. She took a small, unsteady step back as the wine dulled her balance. Madara instinctively reached out to steady her, but she raised her hands to stop him. 

“I’m sorry, Madara-sama,” she said, her voice quivering slightly whether from the wine or her own hesitation, even she wasn’t sure. A faint note of regret colored her words, but her intention rang clear.

She understood why he was drawn to her. Being a high-profile businessman and the head of one of the most powerful yakuza groups couldn’t have made it easy for him to find someone daring enough to straddle both worlds. She supposed, in his eyes, her moment of violent desperation had been something impressive, something he had registered as strength. But no matter how he saw her, no matter how highly he seemed to rate that fleeting display of fire, Sakura couldn’t see herself belonging in either of his worlds.

“I know you think I’m tough, and though I do try to appear that way,” Sakura began, her eyes dropping for a moment. “I also know for a fact that I could never be strong enough to survive the yakuza world.”

Madara stiffened in front of her and for a heartbeat, the air between them was unnervingly still until a sharp, disbelieving laugh slipped from his throat. 

“I think I must have misheard you for a second there, love.”

Sakura blinked, her mind reeling as she retraced her words. Her blood ran cold as realization struck her like a sudden gust of wind.

“I—I was talking about the business world,” she stammered. But even to her own ears, the excuse rang hollow and too rushed to sound convincing. “It can be cutthroat like that isn’t it?”

Madara studied her quietly for a long, heavy moment, his face a mask of calm but his eyes burning with fierce intensity. The calm before the storm.

When he finally took a slow step forward, Sakura’s breath caught and instinctively, she took a cautious step back, stopping Madara on his track. That was when Sakura realized she’d make the wrong move. That was when she realized Madara had received all the confirmation that she had lied, no, had been lying to him.

“People don’t go around accusing others of being yakuza, Sakura,” Madara said, his voice low and darkening into a grim frown. Sakura’s shoulders tensed, her body trembling just a fraction as she took another hesitant step back. “Unless they have proof.”

“I-I’ve only heard rumors—”

“Who was it?” Madara gritted out, impatience sharp in his tone as he cut her off. 

“Who—?” She echoed, momentarily thrown.

“The one who told you,” he ground out, jaw tight. “Don’t play dumb with me, Sakura.” 

“Does it really matter who or how?” Sakura countered, summoning a flicker of resolve, though her voice still trembled. She couldn’t risk implicating her roommate or anyone else who had whispered warnings about Madara to her.

“You know better than to lie to me, love,” Madara said, a storm raging behind his eyes, dark and fierce. “Someone has to be responsible for this unforgivable mistake they’ve made.”

Sakura backed away slowly as Madara advanced, his presence closing the space between them like a shadow swallowing the light. Before she could put more distance between them, his hands shot out suddenly, rough and commanding, gripping her face and tilting it upward toward his burning gaze. Her breath hitched as panic rose like a tide within her. Her hand flew to his wrist, nails digging in as she tried to pry him off, but it was useless. He was immovable.

“Don’t make me force it out of you, Sakura,” he warned, voice low and threatening. “Was it your little roommate?”

Even as Sakura shook her head, her eyes widened involuntarily, a subtle gesture that Madara easily noticed. 

“No,” she whispered, the word slipping from her lips like a fragile breath. Whether she was answering his question or pleading with herself, she couldn’t tell. 

An open book.

“How unfortunate,” Madara said, his eyes narrowing, a flicker of disappointment darkening their depths. How naive of him to think she wouldn’t have any secret. Was she not who she said she was the first time they met?

Without another word, he released her, and Sakura stumbled backward, the cold air rushing to fill the space where his hands had been. Her heart pounded fiercely, each beat echoing in her ears.

As Madara turned toward the door, the image of Sasuke still waiting patiently and oblivious downstairs flashed in her mind.

Fueled by a sudden surge of courage, she reached out and grabbed Madara’s arm. Her grip should have been too weak to stop him, yet he paused mid-step.

“What are you going to do?” She asked, her voice more steady now, laced with a fierce determination that surprised even herself.

Madara glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes cold and detached. “I imagine you wouldn’t want to find out what happens to someone who can’t keep his mouth shut in our world.”

“You’re not going to hurt them,” Sakura said.

Them, Madara noticed. There were more than one that had made some kind of unnecessary contact with her. There were more than one that had lied to him. Perhaps all of them. 

Sakura tugged on his arm, yanking him from his thoughts. “I won’t let you.”

“You won’t let me?” Madara’s voice dropped into a mocking drawl, thick with disbelief and amusement that didn’t reach his eyes. They burned with fury restrained. “Sakura, love, I don’t think you realize the position you’re in.”

He pivoted, turning fully to face her and Sakura instinctively took a step back, then another. Her breath quickened as she fought to maintain the fragile space between them.

“What is it that you think you can do?” Madara asked, his voice pulsing with latent threat.

“I—” She faltered as her mind scrambled for something, anything, that might diffuse the moment.

“I can be a reasonable man,” he continued. “But that would depend entirely on what you can offer me, Sakura.”

Her eyes were fixed on Madara as she backed away slowly, retreating with the same desperation she’d felt earlier. She didn’t dare to look anywhere else but him, in fear of another sudden movement. He stalked toward her with eerie calm, the way a predator does when it knows the prey has nowhere left to run.

Then, the worst thing happened. Her heel caught the edge of the nearby sofa, and she stumbled, arms flailing for balance that never came. Her body collapsed backward into the cushions in a moment of unexpected relief, but it was fleeting. 

The dizziness surged again, a wave of heat and vertigo crashing over her, blurring the edges of the room. The alcohol swam in her bloodstream, making her limbs feel heavier and her mind slower than she needed it to be. Before she could react, a strong hand seized her wrist and pinned it against the sofa. His other arm came down, bracing against the cushion just beside her head. Trapped.

Madara loomed over her, his broad frame boxing her in, stealing the space, the air, the illusion of control. Sakura's heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. Her free hand clenched instinctively at the fabric beneath her, but there was nowhere to go.

Her mind raced back to the pocket knife she had hidden in her clutch, where she now wished it had been on her person. Madara’s presence was all around her, suffocating and inescapable. His body caged her in, heat radiating from him like fire too close to the skin. Then he leaned in, his breath brushing just beside her ear.

“Would you be able to sacrifice yourself for them?” He asked, his eyes bored into hers. She could see herself reflected in his eyes, a small, trembling figure.

Her free hand rose shakily, pressing against the hard wall of his chest, trying to create space between them. The other still struggled in vain beneath his grip. He responded with a slight tightening of his hold, just enough to send a clear message. Don’t test me.

It was futile. She couldn’t fight him and there was no escape, yet her voice was unexpectedly full of conviction when she answered him.

“Yes.” 

Madara stilled, staring down at Sakura with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Like him, she was prepared to do whatever it took, he realized. Whatever it took to protect whoever this was. Even as she was trembling like a leaf under him. Even as her breath was uneven in her chest. Even as the look of dread and terror marred her face. She could, and would, give him whatever it was that he demanded of her, but she would also defy him every step of the way, all for another. 

Jealousy surged before he could suppress it again.

Her cheeks were still flushed from the remnant of the wine, and her hair splayed out around her head like a halo of soft petals. She looked vulnerable yet determined, her eyes meeting his with a mix of apprehension and defiance. She was terrified. Breathtaking. 

“Tell me, Sakura,” Madara asked, his voice low, a hint of threat threading through his words. “Why are you here?” 

His fingers flexed ever so slightly, still wrapped around her wrist like a man who didn’t trust himself to let go.

“Aren’t you scared?”

It was clearly a battle she couldn’t win, yet here she was, waging war all the same, with no allies, no backup. Only her lone self. Like a sheep intentionally laying bare in front of a lion. All to protect his clan full of liars and backstabbers. They don’t deserve her.

Sakura, still catching her breath from their close proximity and the emotional whirlwind of the evening, met his gaze with resolve. Her heart raced in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins, but she knew she couldn’t falter now.

“I am,” she admitted, quiet but clear.

Madara didn’t move at first, his eyes temporarily clouded with disappointment and perhaps even a hint of hurt. She wasn’t lying to him anymore, but now he almost wished she had.

Her body had begun to slacken beneath him. The wine dulled her resistance, slowed her muscles, made her skin fevered and pale. Her gaze, which had burned with fire moments ago, was slipping into something tired and unfocused.

He let out a sigh, low and frustrated. What was he even doing? She wasn’t even fully present anymore. Her strength was waning and her judgment blurred. There was no victory or truth worth prying out if she couldn’t stand firm in it, even if Madara was dying to know who it was that she was willing to throw herself in the fire for; Who it was that had stolen that fierce loyalty from her and buried it in his chest, where it did not belong. Who was it that he had to eliminate.

Whoever it was, Madara knew he wouldn't get it from her while she was in this state. So slowly, he loosened his grip on her. He shifted his weight back to rise, but before he could fully pull away, her hand shot out. Sluggish but desperate, her fingers closed around his wrist.

“But this is between you and me and no one else,” she insisted. The spark of defiance and determination in her eyes returned with a vengeance. 

“I made the decision to go on that date just as I had made the decision to come here tonight.” Her hand trembled, but her grip held. “Because I need you to hear what I have to say directly from me.”

Madara’s expression darkened slightly, a mix of surprise and intrigue flickering across his features. He hadn’t expected her to confront him so directly, to stand her ground, but it was both unsettling and strangely compelling. His dark eyes searched hers for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But there was none, only that flicker of fire burning so brightly in her fearful eyes, refusing to be extinguished, even when the alcohol in her system was dulling her senses.

I won’t be accompanying you in the future.  

He would have done whatever it took for her to stay by his side. If he had to keep her in the dark indefinitely and shrouded her in sweet lies for her to become his wife, then so be it. If ignorance kept her safe and secrecy brought her closer to him, then he would have borne the weight of that deception with pride. But that prospect now seemed impossible. 

Sakura had accepted his invitation knowing who he was and perhaps even the darker facets of his life. She had confessed her fear, yet here she still was, determined to confront him, to make him listen. How could he give up on someone he was so sure was made specifically for him? 

They were so close, close enough that Madara could feel her breath softly fanning his cheeks. The scent of grape lingered faintly from the wine they had shared earlier on her parting lips, mingling with the warmth of her presence. In the intimate proximity, every breath, every heartbeat, seemed amplified. 

He had always been prepared to do whatever it took for Kobu, for the clan, for the legacy he was sworn to protect. Lies came easy and violence was instinct. He would cheat, manipulate, kill, whatever the end demanded. There was simply always a means to justify, always a price to pay that he was willing to shoulder.

But what was he supposed to do here? Threaten her into loving him?

The thought was repulsive and yet, it flickered uninvited and venomous through the back of his mind. If all he wanted was her company, he could’ve blackmailed her easily. Dragged her back into the papakatsu service she thought she’d escaped. Maybe called in a debt and made her compensate him for the deception on their first date.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was her heart, her love, her. And those were the very things no threat could command, no wealth could purchase, no violence could extort. 

Now, knowing she was afraid of him, that she was here before him not out of affection but out of duty or fear, it infuriated him, hollowed him.

But she was still right here, so close beneath him that if he leaned just a bit closer, their lips would touch. If she was still unwilling after he’d shown her his restraint, his desire, the promises behind his power, then if he could show her his longing, his sincerity, his desperation, would that be enough? Would she forget what she came here to say? Would it convince her, somehow, to offer willingly what he could take by force, but desperately wished not to?

“Sakura...” He breathed, her voice strangely vulnerable in the stillness of the room. It was the voice of a man afraid, a voice of a man pleading. But whether it was for her to rethink or for her to let him kiss her; he didn’t know. Madara didn’t think he had ever felt so helpless. “Won’t you reconsider?”

He leaned in just slightly, enough for her to feel his weight shifted above her. His hair spilled forward, falling like a silken curtain around them, cloaking the world outside in shadows. Madara’s hands, large and rough, came up to cradle her flushed cheeks in a startlingly gentle manner. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, the alcohol still thrumming through her blood to heighten every sensations. 

Sakura’s lashes fluttered shut for a moment, feeling the warmth of his palm against her skin and the depth of his plea. But even with the proximity, the tenderness, the desperation from the man atop her, she couldn’t stop the ache of disappointment blooming in her chest when she opened her eyes to stare up at him. 

Curiously, perhaps foolishly, Sakura found herself lifting a hand to Madara’s face, her fingers brushing the sharp line of his cheekbone. The wine blurred her hesitation, made her bolder than she would have dared to be in the sober clarity of daylight. His skin was warm beneath her fingertips, the roughness of stubble catching slightly against her thumb. 

His eyes, ever watchful and burning, softened beneath her touch. For a moment, he leaned into her palm, his lashes lowering, the sharp planes of his face briefly relaxed. It was as if he were trying to memorize something fleeting, something he feared might vanish if he opened his eyes too soon.

These eyes that held the same obsidian depth, this proud line of his jaw and the high cheekbones that were so familiar yet not the same. Madara was devastatingly handsome, dangerously magnetic, and devilishly charming, but he wasn’t Sasuke. And no amount of resemblance, no echo of shared blood, could change that truth as it bloomed painfully in her chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Sakura whispered, her voice barely above a breath. Their faces were so close now, their lips almost touching. “There’s someone…”

Madara knew she was drunk, and the dancing earlier definitely didn’t help sober her up, but he knew that she was aware that she didn’t want him like he did her. The alcohol had only emboldened her long enough to touch him, to offer him the illusion of something tender, but it couldn’t change what she felt deep down. Her heart wasn’t his to claim, no matter how desperately he wished otherwise. 

When Sakura allowed her heavy eyelids to fall shut once more, they didn’t flutter open again. Her breathing slowed, as though she had finally surrendered to the pull of exhaustion and wine. The delicate fan of her lashes cast soft shadows against her flushed cheeks. The tension that had lingered in her features gradually dissolved, replaced by a serene calmness as her breaths deepened and evened out.

Closing his eyes briefly, Madara savored the fleeting moment of intimacy, knowing it was likely the closest he would ever come to having her completely. A heavy sigh escaped him, rough with restraint, frustration, and something dangerously close to grief. His hand slid back through his long hair as he sat back, the gesture more tired than control.

Madara stood, the loss of her warmth almost immediate as he shifted away. Without a word, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over her trembling shoulders, smoothing the fabric gently over her body to ensure she was shielded from the cooling night air. Yet, despite the warmth he provided, he knew she would not feel it in her deep slumber.

Madara couldn’t convince her to go further with him, but at least for now, when he still had her within reach, Madara tenderly ran his fingers through her soft pink locks, his touch careful and reverent. He could have given her everything, but perhaps that was never what she wanted.

As his hand slowly withdrew, he lingered just a moment longer, breathing in the quiet stillness that had filled the room. Then, with a resigned sigh, Madara casted one last glance at Sakura’s sleeping form, still so beautifully and heartbreakingly out of his reach, before turning away.

I was fond of her, but she was not mine to love.

Chapter Text

Sasuke knew he had promised Sakura he’d only step in if she explicitly asked, but they’d also agreed on a failsafe. If the dinner dragged past two hours and she hadn’t texted him to say it might run longer, then he would come up under any circumstances.

So when two hours had come and gone, the silence from her phone felt louder with each passing minute, and an edge of unease curled in his gut. Without another thought, he rode the elevator to the top floor of the tower.

As the elevator dinged softly, Sasuke braced himself. The doors slid open to reveal Obito, standing sentinel at the penthouse door. Sasuke’s glare bore into Obito’s stoic gaze, anticipating resistance, but to his surprise, Obito stepped aside without a word, a silent acknowledgment that Sasuke’s arrival was anticipated. Sasuke quickly brushed past Obito with a curt nod, sparing the man nothing else as he opened the door.

Inside the penthouse, Sasuke immediately found Madara sitting at the dining table with an infuriating calm, leisurely pouring himself another glass of wine as if hosting an old friend rather than witnessing an intrusion. Meanwhile, Madara’s dark eyes followed Sasuke’s movements with clinical interest, noting the urgency in the younger man’s approach. 

Ignoring the older man’s presence and assessing gaze, Sasuke headed straight for the couch where Sakura lay. His concern for her seemed to overshadow any apprehension he might have felt about confronting the Kobu boss. The subtle rise and fall of her chest gave him the first thread of relief, but it did nothing to slow the cold rush of dread in his veins.

Sasuke’s breath was shallow, tension radiating off him like heat, as he dropped to one knee beside her unconscious form and gently tapped her on the shoulder.

“Sakura,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent. “Wake up, let’s go.”

When she didn’t stir, panic surged through him. He shook her body lightly, his hands trembling with fear and anxiety. But Sakura remained unresponsive and vulnerable in a way that made something feral stir beneath the surface of his restraint. He looked up sharply, eyes burning with fury, and turned toward the man still seated at the table.

“What did you do?” Sasuke demanded, his voice a low snarl, thick with rage and venom. 

Madara looked up from his wine, meeting Sasuke’s accusatory glare with a calm that belied the storm brewing within him. It was no secret that Sasuke never liked him, but the boy had also never dared to direct such pure hatred toward him so openly before. 

Madara lowered the wine glass from his lip, his expression betrayed nothing. “I know your father taught you better than to use that tone with me, kodomo.” 

Sasuke’s jaw clenched, wisely choosing to keep his mouth shut this time, but he didn’t have enough respect for Madara to stop glaring at him. For all he knows, Madara could have drugged her and there’d be little he could do unless Madara chose to tell him what she’d been given.

“She’s fine,” Madara offered as if he could read Sasuke’s mind. He raised his glass, causing the red liquid inside to swirl lazily with the movement. “Just drunk.”

The dismissiveness in his tone grated, but Sasuke barely registered it. His eyes dropped back to Sakura, his breath still tight in his chest. Even with Madara’s direct answer, relief only came when he saw for himself that her pulse was steady beneath his fingertips and there were no signs of harm, just the warm flush of intoxication on her cheeks. 

Sasuke clicked his tongue in frustration, unsure if the sound was meant as a silent reprimand for Sakura’s gullibility or for his own carelessness in letting this happen. He could tell now it was likely Sakura had overestimated her tolerance for wine, a drink she rarely indulged in before.

Peeling away the coat that had been draped over her, Sasuke slid out of his own suit jacket and wrapped it gently around her shoulders. Then, with care, he slid his arms beneath her and lifted her into his embrace. The soft weight of her body felt so fragile in his grasp, yet there was something comforting in the way she naturally settled against his chest. 

Even from afar, Madara didn't miss how eyes that accompanied Sasuke’s permanent scowl softened at the edge, or the way Sakura instinctively instinctively gravitated toward Sasuke. Even unconscious, she leaned into him, her fingers curling faintly at the fabric of his shirt as if she knew who was holding her.

There’s someone… Sakura’s final words echo in his mind. 

Yes, perhaps.

Without a word, Sasuke strode past the remnants of the tense room toward the door where Obito stood guard. Madara’s eyes followed him, a strange tightness coiling low in his chest.

“Take care of her,” Madara’s voice broke through the thick quiet.

Sasuke paused briefly, his gaze meeting Madara’s, a silent exchange of distrust and guarded respect. For a fleeting moment, Madara’s stern expression seemed to soften as he caught sight of Sakura cradled gently in Sasuke’s arms. But unwilling to stay any longer and try to discern the Kobu boss’s gaze, Sasuke turned and stepped toward the exit.

Madara remained, eyes now tracking Obito as he retrieved Sakura’s clutch from the dining room before returning to his post near the door, his fingers absently tracing the soft folds of the cardigan Sakura had left with him earlier in the evening.

“Didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in, kodomo?” Madara asked, his voice was a mix of barely-contained irritation and disappointment.

“I’d rather not injure your nephew,” Obito replied without missing a beat, as if rehearsed.

Madara scoffed, the corners of his mouth twisting into a deeper frown. He knew Obito was spinning excuses. His right-hand man knew that neither of them cared much for Sasuke, let alone whether or not he would be harmed.

“Must I remind you of the consequences for lying to me?” Madara’s tone sharpened, the patience in it worn thin.

“Oyabun,” Obito pleaded instead, his tone respectful yet laced with urgency.

Obito was lying. Perhaps he had been from the start and might—no, would continue to do so. Weirdly, it was not the usual flicker of hesitation in Obito’s eyes that had told Madara this time, but the steadfast determination etched deep into his right-hand man’s features. It was the same fierce resolve Madara had seen in Sakura’s eyes, the kind that said the person behind it was willing to risk everything to protect.

Madara sighed heavily, his gaze flickering to the doors through which Sasuke and Sakura had vanished. He took one last sip of wine, savoring the bitterness that matched his mood, before placing the glass down with finality. 

“Fine,” he muttered tersely, waving Obito away.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sasuke rode the elevator down in tense silence, Sakura nestled in his arms, her breathing soft and rhythmic against his chest. The low hum of the elevator only amplified the racing thoughts in his mind. As the doors opened onto the lobby and the cold night air spilled in from the revolving doors, the weight of their situation fully settled on him. Sakura was still unconscious, and they were far from home.

He stepped outside, the city lights casting a pale glow over the pavement. For a long moment, he stood still, brow furrowed in quiet contemplation, assessing his options. Sasuke was snapped out of his thoughts, however, when a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. Its engine purred low, the windows tinted dark.

The driver’s door opened, and Obito stepped out with the same smooth efficiency he applied to everything. Without hesitation, he opened the back door and looked directly at Sasuke.

His voice was firm and commanding. “Get in.”

Sasuke hesitated, his entire posture stiff with distrust. Every of his instincts honed from years of navigating the Kobu’s shadows told him to be wary of anything with Madara’s fingerprints on it. And Obito was just another extension of that reach.

But the practicality of the offer was undeniable. The thought of navigating a crowded train or walking the long stretch home with Sakura unconscious in his arms made the choice bitter but necessary. 

So with a resigned sigh, he adjusted his grip on her and ducked into the car, lowering himself carefully into the back seat with her nestled protectively against his chest. Obito closed the door behind them with a solid, final thud, one that echoed Sasuke’s conflicting feelings more than any words could.

Inside, the car was dim and quiet, insulated from the noise of the city. The leather seats were smooth beneath him, the scent of expensive cologne and faint cigarette smoke still clinging to the interior. The chill of the leather pressed against his back, but Sakura’s warmth in his arms grounded him. She shifted slightly, a small, unconscious movement, and he instinctively pulled her closer, his hand curling around her shoulder with a care he rarely let himself show outwardly.

As the car eased into motion, Sasuke’s jaw tightened. He hated that he didn’t have to give Obito directions, hated even more what that implied. This man had, who worked closely with Madara, been to their place before. That knowledge, that proximity to her, made Sasuke’s skin crawl. 

But this confirmed that Madara knew, or at the very least, had an idea of where he lives, even perhaps their living arrangement. It wasn’t a new fear, just one that had stepped out of shadow and into the front seat. Sasuke had always known this moment would come, had prepared for what he must do when it did, no matter how much he loathed the cost. At least the cost wasn't as high as he once thought, not if it could somewhat secure Sakura’s safety.

In the driver’s seat, Obito drove smoothly, effortlessly slipping through the city’s traffic. The ride should have just been a silent, detached one, but Sasuke could feel Obito’s gaze flicker up to the rearview mirror every now and then.

“How is she?” Obito finally asked, his voice calm despite the tension in the car.

Sasuke’s eyes snapped up to meet the mirror, suspicion sharpened to a glare. He might’ve asked Obito what happened, if he trusted him, but he didn’t. The only word he’d ever trust on the matter would come from Sakura herself. “What is it to you?” 

Obito let out a defeated breath as he watched Sasuke bristle at a simple question. No doubt Sasuke blamed him, in part, for whatever had befallen Sakura tonight. In his eyes, being tied to Madara was guilt enough, and Obito couldn’t fault Sasuke for thinking so.

As much as he wanted to protect Sakura, there was only so much he could do without compromising his position. He needed to keep Madara’s trust so the man would continue feeding him information and keep him close. If he were cast away, he’d lose all visibility and leverage. And the clansman who would take his place would careless about Sakura’s well-being. 

Staying close to Madara was the only way to ensure he could shield her if not directly, then strategically. Even if it meant swallowing his instincts and biting down on every urge to barge in at the sound of a raised voice or a pause too long. Or disobeying Madara’s direct order to monitor them through the crack in the door, ensuring that Madara never crossed a line that couldn’t be undone. He hated the helplessness masquerading as control. But if staying still meant keeping her safe, then still he would remain.

“I’m simply concerned for Sakura-san,” Obito said evenly. He kept his eyes on the road, resisting the urge to look back even as he could feel Sasuke’s scrutiny.

Sasuke scoffed sharply. There wasn’t any reason why Obito should care enough to ask, but after a beat, he answered anyway.

“She’s fine,” he muttered. “Just need to sleep it off.”

Obito stole another glance at the rearview mirror, observing Sasuke gently cradling Sakura’s slumbering body in his arms with a tenderness that didn’t match the cold sharpness of the boy’s usual demeanor. The sight softened Obito’s usually stoicism and, in a fleeting thought, Obito had to wonder what kind of expression he wore when he was with her. Did he ever look that protective and exposed?

In the back, Sakura stirred subtly. It was a small movement that was barely more than a breath, but Sasuke shifted at once, letting out a small hum to check her consciousness. But instead of responding, she nuzzled closer, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his skin as she inhaled deeply. Sasuke stiffened as an uninvited flush crept into his cheeks. The intimacy of the gesture pierced through his defenses more effectively than any of Madara’s words ever could.

“Sasu…-kun…” Sakura mumbled in her sleep, her voice drowsy but unmistakably affectionate as a faint smile played on her lips.

Up front, Obito caught it all in the rearview mirror. Even as a quiet pang of jealousy twisted in his chest, he couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips. He might have known Sasuke for all nineteen of the boy’s life, but he had never seen him show such a gentle and unguarded expression toward anyone in his immediate family, let alone a girl he had known only a handful of months.

“I never knew you had a cute side,” Obito remarked, unable to resist. His tone was light and teasing, but laced with a quiet bittersweet.

Sasuke’s cheeks reddened even more upon realizing Obito had witnessed the whole scene. Obito’s lip curled into a knowing smirk just as the signature scowl snapped back onto Sasuke’s features like a shield being raised too late.

“Not another word,” Sasuke warned tersely.

Obito chuckled under his breath at how easily ruffled the boy was. “No promises.”

Yet the conversation lapsed into silence after that. Outside, the night had also grown quieter. The hum of the city faded into the background as Obito slowed the car and eased it to a stop in front of Sakura and Sasuke’s apartment complex.

Sasuke wasted no time grabbing Sakura’s belongings in the back seat beside him and swiftly exited the car with Sakura still cradled in his arms. He only paused long enough to offer Obito a curt nod, a reluctant but sincere gesture of gratitude, before turning on his heel and heading toward the building without looking back.

Obito watched Sasuke go, uncertain whether the boy was more eager to get Sakura safely to bed or simply desperate to put distance between them. What he did know was that even without his suit jacket, his cousin wouldn’t be affected by the chill of the night, not with cheeks still flushed as if the warmth of her breath lingered there. 

Obito shook his head, a tired sigh escaping him, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. After a beat, Obito shifted the car into gear and eased back into the street, leaving Sasuke and Sakura to their own devices. Meanwhile, he steeled himself for the inevitable grilling from Madara waiting back at the penthouse.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

Sakura stirred awake just after dawn, a dull ache pulsing behind her eyes like a slow drumbeat. Her mouth was dry, and the bitter tang of wine still lingered on her tongue. Memories came in fragmented flashes as she tried to piece together the events of the previous night. 

She could remember most of it, especially the intense conversation with Madara. However, the details of how she got home were hazy, as was the mystery of why she was lying in Sasuke’s futon while hers was laid out next to her.

As Sakura blinked against the morning light, she could feel the warm breath on her skin, slow and even. A few strands of hair shifted, tickling her forehead. Turning her head with painstaking slowness, the soft rustling of fabric sounding louder than it should, she found herself nose-to-nose with Sasuke. His face was peaceful in sleep, dark lashes fanned over his cheeks, lips slightly parted, exhaling that same warmth she had felt.

Sakura froze as an electric jolt of realization coursed through her, snapping her fully awake. Her eyes widened, the pounding in her head now joined by a sudden rush of adrenaline. 

“Sasuke-kun?” She squeaked. Her mind raced as her heart thundered, caught between confusion and the dangerous thrill of proximity.

Her entire body stiffened as awareness bloomed. What she had assumed to be the weight of a tangled blanket was, in fact, his arm draped firmly around her waist over the fabric, holding her like she belonged there.

Sasuke shifted slightly beside her, but didn’t loosen his grip, completely unbothered by their closeness. “Hn?” He mumbled into the pillow, his voice thick with sleep. Whatever he said next was slurred and unintelligible, muffled by the fabric beneath his cheek. 

Sakura swallowed hard. She could feel the heat of his body radiating through the blanket, his chest rising and falling against her back in a grounding rhythm. The pressure of his arm around her was both startling and oddly comforting.

“What happened last night?” Sakura asked nervously. Her eyes flicked to his face, searching for any sign of awareness behind his sleep-heavy lids.

“Later…,” he grumbled, burying his face deeper into the pillow. “...Early…” 

Sakura let out a defeated sigh. She should have known trying to have a conversation with Sasuke this early was always a lost cause. So carefully, she began to wriggle out from under his arm, wanting nothing more than to escape the tangle of warmth and confusion and splash cold water on her face. But the second she moved, his grip tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him and anchoring her back down to the futon. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her body was pinned again, snug within his embrace.

“Sasuke-kun, what are you doing?” She hissed, her voice a flustered of sheer mortification and embarrassment.

His reply came muffled, groggy, and entirely too honest.

“You want me to let you go…” he slurred, dragging the words out like a lazy complaint. “...When you couldn’t keep your hands off of me yesterday?”

When they’d finally made it home last night, Sakura had clung to him with surprising tenacity. Even as he tried to lower her into her own futon, she refused to let go, arms locked around his chest like a vice. Sleepy and tired himself, Sasuke had given up, dragging them both onto his futon with a resigned grunt, and wrapped Sakura in her blanket. In his hazy state now, he didn’t register how his words might be wildly misconstrued. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.

Sakura’s breath caught. What?

Heat rushed to her cheeks, her heart leaping up to her throat. Her mind scrambled to rewind and decipher whatever blurred memories remained from the night before. A quiet, strangled noise escaped her. “Oh no,” she whispered, horrified. “D-did we…?”

She cautiously peeked under the blanket, heart pounding. But relief washed over her when she saw she was still wearing her dress from the previous night, slightly wrinkled but intact. Letting out a breath, she lifted her head and glanced around the room.

A half-filled cup of water sat neatly on the floor beside the futon. Sasuke’s belt and suit jacket were discarded near the window in a loose heap, while he still wore his dress pants and buttoned-up shirt, creased from sleep. This didn’t look like the aftermath she’d imagined in her panic with disheveled clothes on the floor or evidence of drunk recklessness. But the memory she hadn’t imagined, the tense dinner with Madara, that had absolutely happened.

Her brows furrowed as anxiety crept in again.

“Sasuke-kun, what happened last night?” Sakura asked again, her voice laced with anxiety.

He let out a low sigh, still not opening his eyes. “You fell asleep on Madara,” he replied tersely. “Obito drove us back,”.

“What?” Sakura’s eyes flew open, her concern immediate. “Was he upset?”

“Who cares?” Sasuke muttered, his tone indifferent.

“You should, Sasuke-kun!” She snapped, trying to twist around in his hold. “He knows about this apartment! About our arrangement!”

“Who cares?” He repeated flatly.

Sakura huffed, frustrated. She tried again to crane her neck and look at him, but his arm tightened automatically, keeping her firmly in place. Sasuke would never admit it out loud, but the thought of Sakura having once caught a close-up glimpse of his sleeping face still made something in him bristle with embarrassment. It had happened once, and that was already once too many. There wouldn’t be a next time.

“Sasuke-kun, this is serious!” she insisted, her voice rising with urgency. “You’re the one who didn’t want him to find out!”

“Only because Itachi asked me to. So it doesn’t interfere with a plan I never wanted to be part of in the first place,” he muttered, voice cool and detached.

His departure from home, against their father’s wishes, was bound to reflect poorly on the Uchiha branch family’s reputation. It would cast doubt on their ability to raise and control their own, and that, in turn, could jeopardize Itachi’s chances of being chosen as the next Kobu boss.

But that burden wasn’t his to begin with, and Sasuke realized he cared even less now. He had more to lose by involving himself in that web of ambition and even more by dragging Sakura into it. It wasn’t like he had anything to gain by trying to contain it now.

“Besides,” he added bitterly. His father’s reputation among the branch and main clan members was the least of his concerns. “What do I care if my father’s fragile ego takes a hit?”

So it was all for the sake of Itachi’s plan? Sakura fell silent as his words settled in. From what Itachi had shared about their father, she had been under the impression he didn’t hold much affection for the man. But clearly, it seemed that Itachi still held some respect for him after all. 

Sakura could also see now that Sasuke had been laying low to keep his family’s image clean, not out of loyalty to the branch family, but for his brother. But now, Sasuke’s indifference made it clear something in him had changed, and Sakura couldn’t pinpoint why. If his loyalty no longer lay with his closest sibling, then where did it lie now if not the rest of his clan?

“But that means Itachi’s plan—”

“You, of all people, shouldn’t be the one worrying about that,” Sasuke cut in. “Itachi knew what he was getting into. If he can’t get himself out of it, then that’s his problem.”

In truth, it was Itachi’s plan and everything tied to it that had thrown Sakura into this chaos in the first place. So whatever else happened, he would make damn sure that he, and especially Itachi, kept Sakura as far from the fallout as possible, no matter what it took.

Sakura stared, stunned by the bluntness. “So, is that it?” She asked quietly. 

She had expected panic, or at least some sign of tension, especially after how uneasy he’d been the night before. But now, he sounded like he’d already made up his mind long before this conversation even began. To say she was surprised by Sasuke’s calm reaction was an understatement. Was it due to fatigue for having to constantly deal with his family, or a sense of relief at finally being able to step back and let the chaos unfold without him for once?

Now that she thought about it, she had been the one to propose the rule to keep their connection from the public eye. Itachi had echoed a similar request, but she had never specifically asked for what reason, or even why Sasuke agreed. She had simply assumed that if the secret slipped out, word would somehow find its way back to his father, and with that, consequences, whatever it might be.

“But you were so freaked out every time I even mentioned seeing any of your family members,” Sakura said, brow furrowed.

Sasuke grumbled. “I was not.”

“Liar.”

Sasuke let out a sigh, his breath warm against her hair. “I was concerned,” he corrected. “Because you didn’t even know you were talking to Kobu members.”

But his clansmen being Kobu members was a secret they were trying to protect themselves. Most of them hadn't approached her as yakuza affiliates, only ordinary encounters. It was Sasuke’s very reaction that had forced her to push him into finally telling her the truth.

“You make it sound like I was seeking them out.” Sakura puffed out her cheeks. If she could have, she would have crossed her arms over her chest with dramatic flair. “Ok, maybe except your brother.”

Sasuke let out an irritated huff. “And Madara,” he added dryly.

“I did not seek out your uncle!” She snapped, craning her neck back in protest. Her cheeks flared hot with indignation. “That was for a favor! And I made it very clear last night that I’m not interested in him at all!”

Sasuke hummed a half-hearted agreement, the low vibration of his voice buzzing softly through her. That seemed to be the only thing from the dinner that truly mattered to him. He said nothing more, but the subtle tension in his body began to melt away. He was simply relieved that matters had been settled.

After a few quiet moments, Sakura realized Sasuke had gone back to sleep. His breathing had deepened, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against her back.

“Sasuke-kun.” Sakura tapped her hand on his arm, trying to rouse him.

No answer came. Instead Sasuke swung his legs and rested them on top of the blanket she was bundled up in, adding to the weight pressing down on her.

“Sasuke-kun, it’s heavy,” she complained, exasperated.

“You’re heavy,” Sasuke slurred, words barely coherent in his half-asleep state.

Sakura thought that was the last straw. Instead of trying to get out from the side, she slid upward like an eel and managed to wriggle out of Sasuke’s grasp.

She got to her feet a bit unsteady, huffed out a breath, and made a beeline for the bathroom to freshen up. The cool tile floor felt grounding beneath her feet, and she welcomed the splash of cold water on her face, hoping it would clear the lingering fog from the night before.

Sasuke was jolted awake by the sudden absence of his makeshift body pillow. He grumbled again, the emptiness beside him stirring an unfamiliar sense of incompleteness. With a reluctant sigh, he pushed himself up and began the day, running a hand through his tousled hair as if trying to shake off the lingering sleep.

Though he’d never admit it aloud, Sasuke was too shy to slip under the same blanket as Sakura or openly embrace her last night, even when the chance was there. The very idea of such vulnerability made his cheeks flush with heat. Maybe, someday, he’d find the courage to embrace her simply because he wanted to instead out of obligation or circumstance.

But for now, he settled into the quiet comfort of those brief moments of closeness they did share, however fleeting they might be.

^^^^^^ 𓆏 ^^^^^^

An hour later, the two roommates sat quietly at the small kitchen table, sipping shijimi soup to soothe Sakura’s hangover. The warm, savory broth was courtesy of Sasuke, who had prepared it while she was in the bathroom. Thanks to it, Sakura felt a little more human with each sip. The clink of their spoons against the bowls was the only sound in the otherwise quiet kitchen until the topic of last night inevitably came up to fill the silence.

“So while we eat—”

“And overdrink,” Sasuke interjected dryly, not even looking up from his bowl.

Sakura rolled her eyes, the action softened by the lingering effects of her hangover. She stirred her soup with idle circles, watching the clams and green onions drift lazily through the broth.

“Listen, I might not know much about alcohol, but I know that was some good wine we were drinking, okay?”

Sasuke didn’t argue, merely sipped his soup. Across the table, Sakura continued talking about what she learned Madara already knew, including Izuna’s meeting with her and possibly even  Itachi’s plan. 

Without a word, Sasuke pulled out his phone and typed out a message to his brother, a motion  habitual by now.

“Then I told him what I came there to say,” Sakura continued, her tone unexpectedly softened with a touch of warmth at the memory. “And… he asked me to dance.”

Sasuke scoffed under his breath, the sound muffled by the steam rising from his bowl and the dull clink of their spoons against ceramic. His mother had insisted on teaching him to dance, dragging him across the living room floor to old records with stubborn grace. He’d never enjoyed it as he found the whole idea cheesy, especially the notion of dancing on a date. 

But Sakura had always had a soft spot for those kinds of things. He could see it in the way she arranged the books on their shelves, all of them worn-out romance novels and manga, bookmarked and reread. She lived for the poetry of moments like that, and Madara must have gleaned that knowledge from somewhere he had no business looking.

That stupid, crafty old man. Always too observant, always knowing too much.

“So, what do you think?” Her voice broke gently through his thoughts. “Do you think this is the last we’ll see of him?”

Truthfully, Sasuke didn’t think anything could be straightforward and easy with Madara. When Sasuke had gotten to the penthouse, the Kobu boss appeared indifferent, detached. But there was still something about his lingering gaze on Sakura that didn’t sit well with Sasuke. 

“You’re the one who was at the dinner,” he said finally, his tone flatter than he meant it to be. 

“I know, I know!” Sakura burst out, frustration tight in her voice, mostly at herself. She had made Sasuke wait for her and she’d repaid that trust by drinking herself into oblivion. Now, the memories of last night blurred at the edges, leaving her unsure if her instincts were still trustworthy. 

“Maybe he was tricking me…” she began again, softer and unsure. “But I thought he was genuine, most of the time. And there were moments when he was… gentle with me when he wanted to be, so maybe…” He wasn't that bad of a man. Maybe he could be reasonable.

Sasuke looked up from his bowl of soup, eyes narrowing as if he could read her thoughts. “Was this before or after he exploded and pinned you down?”

“I’m just saying!” She insisted, though her voice faltered slightly. “He reacted badly because I accidentally let his secret slip. But I thought he looked really sad when I rejected him.”

Sasuke let out a quiet sigh, his spoon resting idle in his bowl. It was frustrating not being there to see what had really happened. The idea that Madara could be gentle, as Sakura described, felt absurd. 

In all the years Sasuke had known his uncle, he had never once seen him show that kind of softness toward anyone. Women were a non-factor to Madara, distractions he neither entertained nor tolerated. And yet things seem to be different when it comes to Sakura. So would it really be impossible to believe that Madara’s feelings were real? Genuine, in some twisted, corrupted way?

But what unsettled him most wasn’t Madara’s sincerity. It was Sakura’s hesitation, how her voice was beginning to soften when she talked about him. How the wine, or maybe the atmosphere, had made her waver. Madara had planted doubt in her, and that alone was dangerous. Still, Sasuke liked to think that Sakura would never chase after someone like Madara. All he had to do was whatever it takes to keep her safe even when Madara came knocking.

“He offered to help me move somewhere else during the conversation,” Sakura continued, her voice soft but cautious. “But do you think he’d actually force us out of this apartment?”

Sasuke set down his spoon. He didn’t want to leave this place, and from the way Sakura bit her lip, she didn’t want to either. That shared reluctance, at least, was a small comfort. But Sasuke also knew how to pick his battles. If it came to that, the wise thing was to not fight it. They were brought together by a mistake. If Madara’s will was to correct that, then he needed to let it be. Sakura’s well-being and safety was not worth the cost of stubbornness and pride. His own wish, on the other hand, he would sacrifice in a heartbeat.

“If that happens, then we’ll still see each other on campus,” Sasuke said quietly. “There won’t be a need to hide anymore.”

Sakura’s eyes widened at the realization. She hadn’t even considered that. If they moved out and lived separately, they could finally talk and interact side by side in public without the shadow of secrecy hanging over them.

“I guess that wouldn’t be so bad,” Sakura murmured, a tentative smile tugging at her lips. Yet beneath her hopeful tone, a flicker of sadness lingered. 

She knew that Sasuke was trying to cheer her up. But she knew that he had also realized that they hadn’t exactly been careful about keeping their relationship a secret in public recently, especially with how closely they’d been working together at their part-time job. 

Initially, she’d assumed Sasuke wasn’t worried about moving out because he was confident he could stay. But now she knew he had simply made peace with the possibility. This move, if it happened, would take away one of the few ways she could stay close to him. But maybe that closeness meant more to her than it ever did to him.

“But if I get to choose,” Sasuke’s voice rang out softly, cutting through her thoughts. “I’d choose to stay with you.”

Sakura’s head snapped up at him, her heart suddenly skipping a beat. Sasuke’s gaze, however, was fixed anywhere but her eyes. Heat began to rise to Sakura’s cheeks, spreading like wildfire, matching the subtle pink tint on Sasuke’s skin. What had felt like a quiet, resigned goodbye, bracing for the inevitable, suddenly sparked a flicker of hope. It was the kind of hope that settled warmly in Sakura’s chest, filling her with unexpected strength and courage. 

A wide grin spread across her face, brightening the room like morning sunlight breaking through clouds. A soft, breathy giggle escaped her, the sound light and unguarded. 

“Me, too.” 

Sasuke’s eyes flicked to hers, just for a moment, before darting away again. 

If she ever had to choose, he didn’t think he could win.  

That fear had lingered whenever he saw her with Naruto, or Itachi, or anyone else with whom she shared an unmistakable, effortless bond. Yet these two simple words gave him more hope than he'd ever thought he deserved. And hope, he realized, was more dangerous than doubt, because it made him long for things he had spent months denying himself. But now, with nothing left to hide, and the path before him finally clear, maybe he could begin to let that hope in.

Chapter Text

With summer creeping in, the heat of the day remained even with the sun long gone. Still, Sakura wore the jacket Sasuke had given her. The fabric was worn and soft and a comforting weight on her shoulders as she walked home alone through the streets of Kabukicho.

Sasuke, meanwhile, had skipped his shift for something he said he needed to take care of. The tension in his voice when he told her had been enough to keep her from pressing for details, he would share with her when he was ready. Instead, Naruto had insisted on walking her to the station with that same boundless energy she both adored and sometimes found overwhelming. But Sakura had gently waved him off with a tired smile and a half-hearted joke, needing some time by herself after a crazy shift with their three-man team down to two.

As Sakura strolled past shop windows on the smaller street, she paused occasionally to gaze at the displays. She contemplated stopping by the pharmacy, mentally ticking off a list of dwindling supplies.

Despite her mind trying to stay tethered to mundane thoughts, Sakura couldn’t shake the inagging feeling that someone was watching her. A subtle pressure that made her instinctively want to glance over her shoulder. So promptly, she stopped and scanned the street. 

There were a few people, likely drunk from nomikai, staggering home. Others had just started their night, laughter and chatter echoing in the warm air. There were no black, foreign cars in sight either. She exhaled, feeling a bit foolish for letting her imagination get the better of her.

You’re overworked and overtired, she told herself. You're being paranoid. 

And yet, the moment she started walking again, she could swear she heard the distinct rhythm of footsteps falling in sync with her own. A chill ran down her spine as she noticed a long shadow merging with hers on the pavement, elongating under the streetlights.

Heart pounding, Sakura quickened her pace. She slipped one hand into her pocket, fingers brushing the familiar hilt of the small knife she always carried. But Sakura didn’t even have time to draw it when she felt her backpack being yanked violently over her head. 

The straps caught her arms at an awkward angle, the bag itself temporarily blinding her and weighing heavily on her head. Panic surged through her veins as she clung desperately to the bag being ripped away from her, the forceful pulling causing her to trip over her own feet and crash onto the ground.

“Help! Thief!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. Though her voice was raw with fear, she stubbornly held onto her bag.

The rough pavement scraped her palms and knees, a sharp pain radiating through her limbs. Her world narrowed to the struggle between her and the unseen assailant. She could hear the muffled footsteps of passersby, and Sakura desperately hoped someone would at least call the police, though she didn’t expect anyone to step in and stop the robbery themselves.

But the pressure suddenly vanished when the thief released the bag. Her breath hitched as she yanked the backpack off her head, eyes wide with confusion. She barely had time to process the shapes around her when she saw a blur of movement streaking past her.

Sakura stared, breathless, as the newcomer closed the distance in a heartbeat and tackled the thief to the ground with a swift, fluid motion. The impact hit with a heavy, resonant thud that echoed through the street. Passersby let out loud gasps, some instinctively running away. 

The thief flailed on the pavement, limbs thrashing in wild, panicked jerks. But the stranger swiftly pinned them down with the effortless dominance of someone who had done this many times before.

Then, from seemingly out of nowhere, the stranger pulled out a pair of handcuffs, the metal gleaming under the streetlights. With deft precision, he shackled the thief’s wrist to a nearby fence. The sharp click of the cuffs snapping shut was a satisfying sound in the tense air.

The thief yanked violently at the chain, the handcuffs clattering against the fence in futility, each rattle laced with rising panic. When the reality of his situation finally sank in, he turned to fury and spitted curses at the man who had taken him down. 

The stranger stood still for a beat, his gaze fixed on the thief. There was a tightness in his shoulders that seemed to hint at restraint. For a moment, Sakura thought he might strike the thief, but he simply pulled out his phone to make a quick call to who Sakura assumed was the police.

Her pulse still raced, but the edges of panic were softening, slowly giving way to disbelief and relief. Trembling, she pushed herself upright, her palms still stinging from the rough pavement. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she clutched her bag to her chest. When the stranger turned and their eyes met, Sakura felt a strange rush of gratitude and dread.

Oh no. 

“Princess.”

Her stomach dropped at the nickname. When he stepped under the streetlight, its soft glow illuminated his sharp features and confirmed his identity.

“Are you okay?” Shisui asked, his voice missing the teasing lilt she associated with him.

He crouched down to her eye level, his eyes instantly scanned her for any signs of injury. She, meanwhile, studied the pinching of his brow and the downturn of his lips that was so unlike the man she knew. The usual playful spark in his eyes was replaced with an intense concern that made her chest tighten with guilt.

“I’m okay,” she confirmed, her voice steady despite the lingering adrenaline coursing through her veins. But his eyes, unconvinced, flicked from her scrapped up knees down to where her hands instinctively gripped her ankle.

Realizing her own protective hold, Sakura loosened her fingers and tried to flex her foot. But a sudden, stabbing pain shot up her leg and forced a sharp wince from her lips. Shisui’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as if trying to will her injury away.

“Did you sprain it?”

“What are you doing here?” Sakura asked instead.

Shisui’s face snapped back up at her question, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “Why does it matter?”

“It’s late at night, I’m nowhere near Izanagi, and you’re not in uniform, but here you are,” she pressed, her voice carrying just a hint of accusation.

Shisui shook his head. “Let’s just say, after word got out about the last time I had to come rescue you, I started getting a few requests to keep an eye on you when you’re out and about alone.”

“A few requests?” Sakura asked, her brow furrowing. “From Izuna-san?”

She hadn’t imagined he cared enough about her to think of ways to keep her safe, but now the possibility settled like a warm weight in her chest, unexpected and strangely comforting.

Shisui nodded slightly as he shifted to get a better view of her ankle. The skin was already starting to bruise, the area tender and swollen. His fingers brushed against it, light enough to soothe but precise enough to avoid worsening the pain. Still, a sharp hiss escaped her lips.

“And your favorite mastermind,” Shisui added. But even as he said it, he knew the request hadn’t come from Itachi alone.

Sakura should have known that Itachi would find out about the run-in with the police eventually, given how not only Shisui but Izuna were also involved. But she hadn’t seen him for so long, she'd convinced herself he’d stopped thinking about her altogether. The idea that he still did, even if only every now and then, softened something inside her she hadn’t realized was still waiting for him.

Lost in thought, Sakura barely registered the moment Shisui reached for her backpack and slung it over his shoulders. Before she could react, his arms swept beneath her knees and around her back in one fluid motion. 

He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, the strength in his hold both startling and gentle. A gasp escaped her lips as her balance shifted, and instinctively, her hands flew up to grip around his neck for support.

“What are you doing?” She protested, but there was no real anger in her voice. There was only embarrassment as her cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

“What’s wrong with being carried like the princess you are?” He teased, the twinkling of playfulness returning to his eyes.

“We’re in public!” She exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch as her face grew hotter with every step Shisui took toward the main street. “It’s embarrassing!”

“It’s this or a piggyback ride, Princess,” Shisui said with a smirk, his tone warm and maddeningly casual, laced with that familiar teasing edge that always managed to get under her skin.

There was actually a third option of just hobbling back in pain, but the thought made Sakura wince before she even tried. And honestly, she wasn’t sure if her pride could survive the image of her limping beside him like a stubborn child. Besides, if she agreed to the piggyback ride, she would no longer be carried against her will but actively choosing to be carried a certain way. It was a subtle distinction, but it mattered to her sense of pride.

With her embarrassment slowly giving way to practicality, Sakura let out a long, resigned sigh. She lifted her hands in a half-hearted attempt to cover her face even as they walked among strangers. “You stalker,” she grumbled.

“I stalk your stalker, Princess,” Shisui replied. “That makes me more like a guardian angel.” 

He let a smile curl at the corner of his lips when she gave him a pout, the faintest trace of defiance lingering on her face. His eyes softened with understanding as a soft chuckle escaped him. “Were you scared?”

Sakura hesitated, the truth lingering on the tip of her tongue. Her pride urged her to lie and pretend. But her hands were still trembling ever so slightly where she knew he could feel it. 

“…a little,” she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shisui’s hands gave an encouraging squeeze. He couldn’t help but marvel at this brave,  sharp-tongued, resilient girl who was ready to take on both him and Obito. But now, she shook like a leaf when the adrenaline wore off, leaving only the raw edge of fear behind. 

She was strong, no doubt. But strength didn’t mean she was unshakable. She was still just a girl in the end, vulnerable and human, trying to stand tall in a world that demanded too much.

“Sorry, I couldn’t interfere sooner,” Shisui finally explained, his voice tinged with regret. 

When she had seen him in action, there was no hesitation or inefficiency. Watching him take down that thief was like witnessing a completely different person emerge from behind the easy smirks and flirtatious banter. It was hard for Sakura to reconcile that side of Shisui with the flippant man who was now carrying her in his arms. The beginning of a begrudging thank you was forming on her tongue, but before the words could leave her mouth, another voice sliced through the moment.

“Shisui-kun!”

Suddenly, she felt him pull her closer and pressed against his chest, shielding her from view with an urgency that made her heart skip.

Confused, Sakura instinctively pushed against his chest, trying to pull back and see what was going on, but his grip only tightened further. Shisui would often initiate close gestures as a way to annoy her, but never has he so forcefully kept her in place like this.  

Shisui’s expression was a mask of casual indifference that barely disguised the sharpness in his eyes as he cast a cautious glance over his shoulder. His body, however, was tense beneath her touch.

“Who is that?” The unfamiliar voice rang out again, its tone sharp with suspicion. Sakura strained to peek past Shisui’s chest, but he shifted just enough to block her line of sight.

“Can’t you tell?” Shisui asked, his tone artificially light. “She’s my girlfriend, of course.”

Sakura froze as a rush of disbelief shot through her, followed almost immediately by embarrassment. She squirmed, feet kicking in an attempt to wriggle free from his arms, but Shisui’s grip remained firm. Even her verbal protests were muffled by his chest.

“Did you kidnap her?” the voice scoffed, thick with disbelief and a biting undercurrent of contempt.

Sakura couldn’t see who was speaking, but she could feel the shift in Shisui’s body as he positioned himself as a wall between her and the approaching stranger.

“Sorry,” Shisui said smoothly, a faint trace of amusement threading through his voice. “She’s very shy.”

The footsteps slowed, and the silence between them sharpened.

“You’re trying to hide her face,” the voice observed, clipped and suspicious.

“I can’t have you recognizing her on the street when I’m not around now, can I?” Shisui’s voice still held its signature ease, but beneath it was a sharp, veiled threat that made Sakura’s pulse quicken. Who was this person that she couldn’t be recognized by?

“She’s the girl you left me to serve that night, isn’t she?” The voice accused, colored with incredulity and something almost wounded beneath the sharpness. “She’s the reason you haven’t been back to the club as often.”

Sakura felt Shisui shrugged dismissively, almost indifferent.

“You don’t think I’d recognize her when she has pink hair?” The voice snapped, inching closer, demanding.

“It’s a wig,” Shisui replied smoothly without missing a beat.

Sakura jerked her elbow into his ribs sharp enough to communicate her displeasure. To his credit, he remained standing, though his body went rigid for half a second before he spoke again, his voice subtly strained. 

“As someone from the same industry, you must know the importance of keeping your lover hidden, especially when others might take too much interest.”

“Lover?” The voice rose, sharp with anger, and suddenly personal. “You—aren’t you afraid that I’d reveal your weakness?”

Weakness? Sakura’s brow furrowed in concern. Was this someone from a rival gang?

Shisui let out a sigh that was more scoff than breath, his next words laced with mocking coolness. “Are you threatening my number one spot?” He asked, a low chuckle slipping through his grin. “We both know that if you wanted to, you would have.”

The woman bristled audibly, breath hitching with frustration. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Shisui-kun!” She burst out, her voice cracking under the weight of emotion. “I told you I love you! I spent tens of thousands on you! Did that mean nothing to you?” Her voice wavered between anger and heartbreak, raw and unfiltered. “What does she have that I don’t?”

Oh. 

Sakura had harbored suspicions, but now, they were confirmed. This wasn’t someone who posed a threat to her nor Shisui. This was someone emotionally entangled, someone who had bought into the illusion of something deeper, someone who had loved him and paid to believe it was mutual.

“I’m really sorry,” Shisui admitted, his voice surprisingly gentle and sincere. “But you see this girl right here?” Sakura could feel Shisui’s grip on her tightening. “I already promised to protect her with my life.”

Sakura’s heart stuttered in her chest as her mind raced. It had to be exhaustion clouding her judgment, because Sakura couldn’t detect a note of dishonesty in his words.

“You said you love me,” Shisui continued, his tone softening. “Then can you still wish for my happiness even if it’s not with you?”

There was a brief silence, the kind that seemed to stretch impossibly long. The city sounds seemed to fade into the background as they stood in their own bubble of unresolved emotions. Then, suddenly, Sakura could feel the woman’s fierce gaze settle on her. 

“Then I want to hear it from you, ” the woman demanded. Even without being able to see her face, Sakura knew the words were aimed directly at her. “Do you really love him?”

Pressed against Shisui’s chest, Sakura could have sworn she felt his heart beat faster. Was he nervous because he cared about her true feelings, or was he afraid she wouldn’t play along with his charade?

The warmth of his embrace was offering both comfort and a subtle urgency. Sakura wanted to glance up at Shisui, to search his eyes for a glimpse of the truth that lay beneath his calm facade. Because when Shisui’s fingers tightened subtly around hers, she couldn’t tell if it was a silent gesture of support or a desperate plea.

“…Yes,” Sakura finally answered, her voice soft yet resolute. Then, sensing the disbelief still radiating from the woman beyond Shisui’s shoulder, Sakura lifted her arms and wrapped them around him. “Yes,” she repeated, more firmly this time. “I love him.”

Regret and guilt pricked at her almost instantly, but before she could dwell in it, she felt the rise and fall of Shisui’s chest against her cheek, a relieved exhale escaping him. She could feel his hand giving her shoulder a squeeze as if to say thank you. 

The woman lingered for a moment longer, studying Sakura in heavy silence. When she finally spoke again, her voice was thinner now, tinged with resignation and hesitation. “…Then you better make him happier than I can.”

Sakura felt the urge rise in her chest to fix the lie. But knowing the truth would only complicate things further, she kept quiet and let the woman walk away. Her footsteps echoed faintly against the pavement as she disappeared into the night. Sakura remained still in Shisui’s arms, aware only of the rapid beat of both their hearts, hers thrumming with both confusion and adrenaline.

When she was sure the woman was gone, Sakura pressed both palms against Shisui’s chest and without protest this time, he loosened his hold and gently lowered her back to the ground. Her injured foot barely touched the pavement before he reached to steady her, his fingers brushing her waist.

“Weakness?” Sakura echoed, still dazed.

His eyes watched her carefully, like he half expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. And something in his gaze softened, like he hadn’t realized how much he feared her recoil until it failed to come.

“It’s a secret for a reason, Princess.”

She shook her head, frowning slightly, still trying to make sense of the emotional whirlwind they’d just stepped out of. “What was all that just now?”

Another soft laugh slipped from Shisui, and this time, a flicker of mischief lit his eyes. “That,” he said with mock solemnity, “was our first time saying the ‘L’ word to each other.”

Sakura gave him a light punch to the chest. “I’m serious!” She protested, though the touch of guilt crawling back into her chest dulled her tone.

“Alright, alright,” he relented, but the laughter was still there. It was a strange reaction for someone who had just turned down a woman Sakura had no doubt was beautiful, and who, more importantly, clearly cared for him deeply.

“That was one of my top patrons,” he continued, his voice dipping into something almost regretful. “Or maybe ‘was’ is the better word.”

“From the host club,” Sakura clarified.