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Sakura inhales with all that she has, and stares up to the cloudless sky above. He mind is her worst enemy in more recent times; a foe she is forever stuck with and has no control over.
She has been foolish.
Hilariously foolish.
She'd been deluding herself as of late; a subtle glance towards her, the briefest of smirks, a slight brush of his hand against hers – she'd been deluding herself because in isolation, it all means nothing and really, in the grand scheme of things, she is only seeing what she'd wants to see.
So preoccupied with 'a maybe' that she'd not even considered that she was only seeing what isn't really there.
Had she compiled together her deepest desires into some twisted interpretation of the grandest of delusions. Had she stitched together nothing of substance, and formed her own reality – how foolish can she be?
This is how the disturbed are borne, barrelling head first into a world that doesn't exist.
What a time to catch her thoughts.
.
.
For the first time in a long time, Sasuke is back in the village for his birthday. Naruto takes it upon himself to organise a party that Sasuke is very clear in not wanting – of course this does not deter the blond.
Accepting this circumstance, Sasuke does in fact show up to his party.
From her spot at the bar, it is clear that he isn't too overjoyed by this situation. Naruto cheers for the arrival of the birthday boy. Many of Sasuke's well-wishers are people he isn't too familiar with, but Naruto is. She watches, amused, as he scans the faces of the party-goers and realises that none of them are anyone he'd particularly want to spend time with.
She smirks, and takes a sip of her drink but freezes as his eyes fall onto her.
She nods in a gesture of acknowledgement. To her surprise, he begins to push his way through the crowd to get to her.
She frowns – what is he doing?
“Oi, Sasuke, over here,” Naruto calls out, grabbing Sasuke by the sleeve and, unknowingly, pulling him away from her.
.
.
She doesn't seek him out the next day because of something she'd overheard some of the nurses gossip about. She knows it is childish to let the uninformed words of those that are not privy bother her this much. It is something she'd reminded herself at first – to not care, and to merely ignore it. She'd reminded herself the second time, the third time, and after that, too many times to count.
But she is only human – and so their words eventually make her stop, and ponder.
“She's still pining after him,” one of them had remarked, assuming she were out of earshot.
“Its quite sad, at this point”.
“Mmmh, I know”.
Sakura rubs her temples, and heads back to her office.
She knows not to let them affect her; but perhaps even the mere fact that she has been reduced to this sideshow for them bothers her more so by the fact that it completely erases any other aspect of who she is. Is she not accomplished? Is she not skilled in her own field? Is her entire self derived from the fact that her love for Uchiha Sasuke reduces her to nothing more than some form of entertainment for those that should not matter.
.
.
“You are accomplished,” Ino exclaims, “ignore what they said”.
Sakura blows a strand of hair away from her face, “they've got a point, though”.
“No they do not,” Ino slams her hand atop the shop counter. A customer hesitantly approaches, a bouquet of flowers in his hands, “that'll be twenty ryo, sir,” Ino remarks happily, turning to regard the man.
.
.
Its her mind that bothers her at night; the festering ball of delusion, wrapped up in a neat little package. Its disturbing, how wrong she can be.
Its like a monster she herself has created.
One buried deep within her that grows on insecurity.
Maybe this is a shared burden, Sakura considers one night as she stares at her illuminated clock that reads 01:43am. It is possible that this frustration is carried by even the best of them, and they merely walk through life pretending that the weight does not bother them.
She smirks, and rolls over. Wishful thinking perhaps – but she doubts she is the only person to feel like this.
Looking at the bigger picture, none of it truly mattered.
.
.
Sasuke leaves a day after his party. Sakura hears it from Naruto first, “he left really early in the morning,” says the blond.
It is at that moment she begins to consider – what actually are her ties to Uchiha Sasuke.
They hardly act like friends. They are neither team mates or co-workers. Their familiarity is merely a facet of formalities due to their shared past – what little there is of it anyway.
During the morning shift, the same nurses and a few doctors gossip about her once more. They do not sense her presence – how could they? But their words anger her more than incite the usual downcast feelings of days prior.
How has she allowed herself to reach a point that she is now valued in regards to – him. Obviously, this is a folly on her part. And frustratingly, she cannot seem to pinpoint why. All this time, she'd intentionally avoided his presence, kept her distance and maintained an amicable demeanour when near him – so why do they still judge her so?
What is it that they see?
Do they see that twisted monster inside her; the one that gnaws away, bit by bit.
She hears the sounds of their laughter; either they've moved to a new topic, or they remain on her.
Nevertheless, she makes her resolve there and then.
.
.
It is within two weeks that Sasuke sends Naruto a letter. The blond bounds towards her apartment in excitement, knocking on her door and forcing Sakura to answer with a strained, “what do you want?”
The blond waves the letter before her face, “you got one too”.
She frowns, “keep it”. She closes the door in his face.
.
.
Invariably Sakura is forced to seek Naruto out later in the day to apologise. Her guilt being the main driving force for this. “Seriously, Sakura-chan, that was a real mean thing to do”.
“Sorry Naruto”.
“I was just excited”.
She considers reminding him that banging on her door just to reveal that he'd gotten a letter from Sasuke, at three in the morning, should give her the right to snap at him. But instead she merely repeats her sentiments, “sorry Naruto”.
He huffs, “seriously, Sakura-chan”.
.
.
Just as Naruto had said, Sasuke had written letters to the both of them, but packaged them into one and sent it to Naruto. She does not question it. Her letter is a single page, only very little is scribbled on it. In fact it is barely a letter at all; more like instructions.
.
.
She is to be in her apartment, around nine to ten at night. He'd at least written 'please', she muses as she combs over some old records and files she should have organised at least three months ago.
A tapping on her window stirs her from her thoughts.
Without hesitation, Sakura gets up and allows her guest entrance. “There is also a door,” she remarks.
Sasuke shrugs, “I only intend to visit briefly”.
And the meaning behind said visit is entirely lost to her. She walks away, offering tea as she heads to the kitchen. He follows behind, “there is no need, Sakura”.
She stops mid-step, and swivels on her heel, “okay, would you like some–”
“I am only here briefly, to ask you something”.
She isn't sure what to expect, so Sakura nods and asks for him to continue.
He straightens his stance; but his expression gives away that he isn't entirely sure about what he intends to speak of, “Sakura, I need to ask...”
She tilts her head, “ask what?”
“If we can reach...an agreement”.
“An agreement?”
“Yes,” he nods, “understandably, what I'm asking is...I'm asking for a lot”.
She cannot confirm nor deny that; for she cannot even decipher what he asks for, “Sasuke-kun, I...um...”
“Sakura, if we can reach an accord for what I believe both you and I know is there, then I can come to terms with it if your answer is a no,” he pauses, “but if your answer is yes...”
Sakura nods, slowly, “okay, right”.
“Are you, saying yes?” he asks.
“Sasuke-kun,” she continues, “I'm saying, that you need to elaborate more”.
He smirks, surprisingly enough, “when I get back, I'll take you out”.
She blinks, “take me out?”
“To dinner”.
“Really?” whatever she'd expected this visit to consist of, this had not been a possibility to cross her mind, “yes, okay”.
His smirks becomes more noticeable, “you sound surprised”.
“Its unexpected”.
He frowns, and chuckles, “is it?”
.
.
The ball of insecurity simmers down for tonight – it doesn't activate, or grow. She keeps her monster at bay for now. After all, it appears that amends towards the nothingness between herself and Sasuke finally begins to make headway.
She been so caught up in considering her humiliated state as the girl by his side that loved him, but were ultimately discarded – now, she can confidently say that their first steps into a new-found friendship could wash away her tired fantasies of their youth.
Well – maybe not confidently.
It is a start, however.
She holds on to at least that.
.
.
“He's sending letters to him, but not to her”.
“Hmm, how telling”.
Sakura walks past the nurses station without shame today, which synchronise the collective silence of those that gossip around the bench.
Of course she can hear them start again once she rounds the corner; the group assume that she is out of earshot – she isn't.
.
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Within a week, Sakura receives a letter from Sasuke. He is short and to the point; he tells her of the village he visits. It is a place Sakura knows of in great detail from the books and reports she's read during her time. In some way, she is a little jealous that Sasuke has visited one of the towns she'd so love to travel to.
She decides to pen back a letter, asking if he'd be able to see for her what books are available. She makes a point to note which books in particular. Her tone is light-hearted, and casual. So it surprises her when the next letter she receives from Sasuke, a week after she'd written him back, comes attached with one of the books she'd noted to want.
She frowns, “I...huh”.
Nevertheless, Sakura is grateful for the present.
.
.
The letters in-between them are sporadic at best. After he'd sent her the book, Sakura makes it a point of necessity to send back a present of her own. Understanding, Sasuke rather not receive something frivolous, so she would usually send food, or weapons, or information about where it is he travels to next.
Six months in, and Naruto grows restless at Sasuke's lack of correspondence. “Why is he so busy nowadays, geeze,” murmurs the blond, staring down at his broth instead of inhaling his ramen like normal.
Sakura freezes upon this remark, “what do you mean?”
“Sasuke – the bastard”.
“What...what about him?”
“He isn't sending any letters”.
“Oh,” she replies softly; her situation clearly not reflecting that of Naruto's. Not that he is privy to such a thing.
.
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When Sakura arrives home, she intends to write to Sasuke, to ask him why he doesn't write to Naruto. However just as she retrieves a pen and paper, she notices an unopened letter upon her windowsill. “of course,” she mumbles to herself, exhaling with a grin.
Sakura rips open the envelope, and scans the contents of the message.
Unlike their correspondence of recent times, this one is brief – it is merely a time and date.
.
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Said time and date correspond with Sasuke returning back to Konoha. A short stay, he says, three days at the most. Naruto is livid as the Uchiha steps over the threshold of the village gates. He decries his sentiments of Sasuke being a bastard – which in turn garners the attention of the few that are around them.
Sasuke chuckles, and approaches the blond. He apologises for his lack of contact, and promising to change that tune.
Sakura relegates herself to the sidelines, and pretends to be shocked about this 'surprise' visit.
.
.
Him contacting only her means nothing – it is nothing. She refuses to allow that monster within her to grow again on false hope; sewing together bits and pieces of nothing.
“Sakura,” a nurses knocks upon her office door.
Sakura's jerks her head up; from an outside perspective she appears to have been engrossed in her work.
“There is someone here to see you,” the nurse continues.
Her brows furrow, “is it Naruto?”
“No,” smiles the nurse.
“Okay,” says Sakura, “where is he?”
The nurse holds up her hand, “I'll get him for you”.
The him to that sentence turns out to be Sasuke, much to her surprise.
“My window is open,” she teases, as Sasuke enters the room and closes the door behind him.
He smirks, and approaches her desk. He remains standing as opposed to taking a seat, “where do you want to go?”
She doesn't reply immediately, choosing instead to rack her mind with what Sasuke could refer to before relenting and asking, “what do you mean?”
“For dinner”.
“...what?”
“Do you not remember?”
She obviously doesn't, “uuhhh”.
“I told you before I left, that I'd take you out to dinner when I get back”.
.
.
And so they go for noodles. The restaurant is small but one of her favourites.
“I had a feeling you'd like this kind of place,” Sasuke remarks, ducking under the shop coverings. His stature stands out amongst the other patrons of the establishment.
Sakura hums in acknowledgement, and the two are seated by the hostess.
“This used to be the spot Ino and I would always go to after a bad day. It was our place, not sure when the tradition started”.
“Did you have a bad day?” asks Sasuke, pausing as he reaches for his chopsticks.
Sakura shakes her head, “no, I didn't. I also come here because I really like the noodles,” she grins.
When their meals arrive, Sakura asks Sasuke about the places he has visited.
Utterly fascinated by his stories; she makes no attempt to hide her attraction to his tales. Sasuke stops speaking after a particularly riveting tale about a village raised on walkways, and asks her, “what about you, Sakura, what have you been up to?”
She blinks, “oh, nothing interesting”.
He takes a sip of his water, “I'm sure that's not true”.
“It sort of is,” she shrugs, “shifts at the hospitals, researching what I can here and there; mainly into cures and antidotes–”
“Like what?” he asks.
Sakura swirls her noodles with her chopsticks, “oh, just boring medical mumbo jumbo”.
“Sakura, I've been talking for most of the night about my time away–”
“Because its interesting,” Sakura points out.
A half-smirk teases his expression, “I'm interested in what you've been doing here, in Konoha”.
“No you aren't” she laughs.
But with a genuine expression, Sasuke implores her to continue, “I'm serious Sakura, what is your research on?”
.
.
During his brief three-day stay in the village, Sasuke spars with Naruto a grand total of four times. He also takes her out twice, including their night at the noodle house. He has lunch with her one day, and even goes with her for a walk through the park after he'd decided to pick her up after work – something that comes as a shock at first, but nevertheless Sakura reminds herself; this is what friends do.
Of course, these matters are only between them.
Because there isn't anything more to it that.
“Hey Sasuke, you're avoiding Sakura-chan, aren't you?”
With a raised brow, and that famous Cheshire grin of his, Naruto elbows Sasuke during their final outing of his visit back to Konoha. Sakura; on the other side of Naruto, shoots the blond a dirty look.
Sasuke rolls his eyes, “where did you get that idea from?”
The blond rolls his eyes, “I haven't seen you spend any time with her since you got back”.
Sakura clears her throat, “Naruto, you know I'm sitting right here, don't you?”
.
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As usual, their letters are sporadic. Sasuke picks up their correspondence a week after his departure from the village. True to his word, he also keeps in contact with Naruto, and Kakashi; but less frequently than he does with her.
Naruto is always in a lighter mood when he receives a letter from Sasuke. “He's made it all the way to Grass,” he gushes one day whilst training with Sai – without actually training with Sai.
“Are you not prepared to spar?” asks the ex-root member.
Naruto stands defenceless in the middle of the training ground, reading and re-reading Sasuke's message.
Sakura sits upon the edge of the grounds, grinning at the scene before her.
Sai turns to her, “ugly, do you mind stepping into the ring? I would like to have a partner that takes their training seriously”.
Sakura turns to Naruto, then back to Sai, “sure”.
.
.
Over the course of the next four months, Sakura sends Sasuke a limited edition kunai set, a proto-type weapon that administers darts; that may be filled with toxins of the users choice, a pair of gloves designed to withstand the wear and tear of outdoor travel, and every now and then, a bento she'd made herself. The desire to become a better cook be what spurs her to try new and different recipes each and every time.
Sasuke in return sends mementos and gifts from the places he travels to. Silks, books, and jewellery to name a few. She forms a picture in her mind of the route he travels by what he sends her.
Then, one afternoon, Sasuke sends her a small box.
Kicking her shoes off, and padding towards the dining table, Sakura eyes the gift with curiosity. She guesses that it is most likely jewellery; perhaps a broach or a necklace from lands far beyond their borders.
She opens the box, and frowns at its contents.
It is a necklace; the simple silver chain catches her eye, but more so than that is the pendant that is attached. A small Uchiha crest – its vivid presence almost mocks her inability to put two and two together.
Her insecurity rises, Sakura closes the box and puts is away.
She does not touch it again, not for at least two months – not until he returns.
.
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And so it is that Sasuke returns once more to the village without the courtesy of letting those close to him know of his arrival – perhaps he holds a penchant for the theatrics. Sakura smiles to herself at the thought as Uchiha Sasuke walks past her form, and into her apartment, “I hope this is not too late to visit,” he remarks, softly.
Sakura closes the front door, and turns to him, “I wished you would have told me you were coming”.
He turns to her, and smirks, “I would have assumed that you'd guess”.
“Why would I?”
He turns back around, and treks to her living room. She follows behind.
“You were usually better with dates than I am, Sakura”.
She smiles; albeit still somewhat confused, “if you say so,” she glances over towards the clock, “are you hungry? I can make you–”
“You're not wearing it,” he interjects, frowning then relaxing as if realising a slip up he'd just made, “sorry, you don't have to if you don't want to”.
His expression conveys a man unaffected, but his posture tells another story.
“What are you talking about, Sasuke-kun?” she asks.
He pauses, “the necklace”.
“Oh...yep, I know the one”.
Her response is far chirpier than he'd imagine, so he finds himself smiling; softly, and genuinely, “you don't have to wear it, I understand that merely sending that out-of-the-blue would appear–”
“Wait,” Sakura interjects, “that really was for me?”
Sasuke hesitates, then raises an eyebrow, “yes”.
“For me to wear?”
“Yes,” he repeats, his tone growing more confused with each question.
Her eyes widen, and she looks down. The monster inside her begins to cackle, coming to life by a mere spark of the possibility that maybe she'd been right.
Maybe she'd always been right.
How long...how long?
She scampers off to retrieve the box she'd not touched for two months. Quickly dusting away the evidence of her neglect. Sakura opens the lid, she can sense Sasuke approach her from behind.
She turns around, and admits to him, “I didn't know you'd...wanted me to wear it”.
He chuckles softly, “I sent it to you”.
“I know”.
“You needn't be so unsure of this any more, Sakura”.
But what exactly is it that she isn't sure of?
It cannot be that which had plagued her mind before; were those subtle glances, and brief smirks, and slight brushes of his hand against hers more than just delusion?
It cannot be – she'd formed a resolve, she'd fought off her monster – her monster that comes alive as of now with an 'I told you so' but ironically enough, begins to die away within that very moment that Sasuke steps forward, and asks where it is that she wants to go to celebrate their anniversary.
There is no more cackling of insecurities bubbling at the surface.
The gossip, and the whispers, and the determination that her new-found 'friendship' with Sasuke was a step in the right direction – what was all that?
Sasuke awaits her response, and Sakura cannot help but find amusement in the matter. But she inhibits her smile to something less akin to the cackling of a madman. “Umm, lets go to that noodle bar again,” she replies, tapping her chin.
He question this, “bad day?”
Sakura shakes her head, “no, nothing like that. I just like their noodles”.