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This love, a tide that reached your door,
Then turned, a bitter echo, to the shore.
No way to enter, though my spirit yearned,
A boundless passion, passionately burned.
A love it was, unnamed by any tongue,
In lexicons of lovers, left unsung.
Beyond all measure, past what words could claim,
A consuming madness, leaving but a name.
My nights stretch long, by your dear absence chased,
Through haunted hours, my lonely heart laid waste.
A stranger now, I wander, lost and deep,
Within your memory's labyrinth, I weep.
My tears, the only rain my desert knows,
As through my soul, a parching sorrow flows.
The world, a vast emptiness, a hollow space,
Devoid of meaning, lacking your embrace.
And pain, a constant shadow, ever near,
A loyal comrade, banishing all cheer.
Now only ashes of a fire remain,
A silent scream, consumed by endless pain.
“You’re awake,” Kakashi felt relief as he saw Sakura stir, blinking slowly.
“It’s already bright,” she murmured hoarsely.
“How do you feel? Are you okay? Is anything hurting?” he asked, concern etched deeply into his features. He hadn’t left her side since the previous day, too worried to rest after witnessing Sasuke’s final act before heading off to fight Naruto, putting Sakura under a powerful genjutsu, to keep her from interfering.
Sakura closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her palm to her forehead. “Naruto… he’s fighting him, isn’t he?”
Kakashi hesitated. “Sakura…”
He didn’t know what to say. What could he say? That he understood her pain? That he had seen it coming but couldn’t stop it? That he was sorry? All of it felt meaningless. Sasuke had been cold, distant, and ruthless to her for most of the time, but what he did yesterday, that was cruel in a way that felt personal.
“You don’t have to talk about it yet,” Kakashi finally said. “Just, take it slow. We don’t know what kind of toll that genju--.”
Sakura shook her head, slowly rising to her feet despite the slight tremble in her knees. “I have to go to Naruto. I need to make sure he’s okay.”
She didn’t even acknowledge Sasuke again, and Kakashi noticed. A heavy feeling settled in his chest.
“Sakura, wait, are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again as she took a few shaky steps forward.
“I’ll manage,” she said, then glanced back at him with tired eyes. “Sensei, can you walk? Lean on me if you need to.”
She had slipped under his arm and carefully draped it over her shoulder before he could reply.
“I should be the one supporting you…” he murmured, half to himself, ashamed.
“The Valley of the End… that’s where Naruto and… him, right?”
Kakashi turned his head slowly, nodding. “Yeah. They’re probably near the waterfall by now.”
Sakura gave a firm nod and adjusted Kakashi’s arm over her shoulder. Without another word, they began moving, their feet stepping over scorched, cracked earth.
Even though she held herself upright and kept her pace steady, her body was still recovering from the genjutsu Sasuke had used on her the night before, a genjutsu so powerful it rendered her unconscious for hours, trapping her in a world of illusions he created to shut her out.
To protect her, perhaps. Or to push her away.
Maybe both.
Kakashi glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Lips pressed into a tight line, her green eyes focused ahead, jaw tighten, the barely concealed tremble in her hands. She was holding herself together by sheer will.
They reached the forest’s edge, leading them up into the trees. Together, they began traveling through the canopy, leaping from branch to branch. The wind stirred around them, rustling leaves that shimmered with golden light as morning sun filtered through. It was peaceful here, a stark contrast to the battlefield they just left.
After a long silence, Kakashi finally broke it, hesitant. “Sakura… when we get there… things might not be easy to see.”
They landed on a thick branch, and she paused for a moment, catching her breath. The breeze brushed her hair back, revealing the lines of exhaustion on her face.
“I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the wind. Then she turned her head slightly to look at him. “But I have to see Naruto with my own eyes. I have to know he’s okay.”
Her voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying the emotion she tried so hard to conceal. She didn’t mention Sasuke. That absence in her words said more than anything.
Kakashi looked at her, and his chest tightened. This wasn’t the girl who once chased after Sasuke with blind infatuation. This was a woman who had endured betrayal, heartache, and war. She gripped his arm a little tighter, steadying him as they prepared to leap again. Kakashi exhaled a long, weary sigh.
Sakura… you’ve grown so much. You’ve become strong in ways I never taught you. Ways I should have…
He closed his eyes for a brief second, letting the wind wash over him.
The trees grew denser as they neared their destination, but beyond the forest’s edge, they could already hear it, the distant, crashing roar of the waterfall. The place where legends clashed. The place where Naruto and Sasuke were about to rewrite history once more.
The Valley of the End now looked like a graveyard of forgotten hope. The towering statues of the First Hokage and Uchiha Madara, once standing tall and proud, now lay fractured and broken. Hashirama’s arm was missing, severed clean at the shoulder; Madara’s chest was blown apart, reduced to jagged chunks of stone scattered in the river below. The entire landscape had been ravaged, deep fissures tore across the earth like scars, trees uprooted and burned, and the once-still lake now churned with violent currents from the destruction.
It looked like the aftermath of a storm that had been brewing for years.
Kakashi and Sakura emerged from the trees, standing at the edge of the destroyed cliff. His breath caught in his throat.
There they were, lying motionless at the center of the shattered reconciliation symbol between the two great shinobi, their arms gone from the elbow down, blood soaking the earth beneath them, mingling together.
Sakura stepped forward, footsteps were silent against the debris as she approached them, kneeling beside Naruto, placed her hand over the raw, bleeding stump of his arm, and activated her healing chakra.
A soft, green glow began to emanate from her palm.
Naruto’s eyes fluttered open at her touch. His pale and exhaustion face smiling when he saw her, a big, tired, triumphant smile.
“Sakura-chan…” he breathed weakly, but his grin wide. “I did it. Sasuke is back.”
"......."
“Sakura-chan?” Naruto asked again, his smile faltering, brows knitting in confusion.
She kept her eyes on Naruto’s wound, the healing chakra pulsing rhythmically from her hand. Finally, she murmured, “Shut up, you idiot…”
“Sasuke is back,” he repeated, firmer this time, as though trying to convince her, or maybe himself. “We’re Team 7 again. It’s over. We can go home.”
At that, Sakura finally paused. Her hand stilled over Naruto’s stump. Her brow furrowed slightly, and her bright eyes shifted toward the figure lying just beside him.
She exhaled heavily through her nose. “I’m glad he’s back, Naruto. Now you can finally stop hurting yourself trying to chase after him.”
“Sakura-chan…” Naruto whispered. Even Kakashi, who stood watching from a few feet behind, surprised. He hadn’t expected those words either.
Sasuke, still lying on the ground, bleeding and unmoving, turned his head toward her slightly. His eyes met hers for the first time. And yet, she didn’t hold his gaze. Her eyes passed over him like he was just another patient, just another wound to be treated.
“Sakura-chan, heal Sasuke too,” Naruto urged, frowning.
Her lips tightened into a grim line as she stared down at Naruto, then slowly pulled her hand away from his arm. The wound was still raw, she hadn’t finished.
She bit down on her thumb until blood welled up, and slammed her palm onto the stone before her.
Poof!
A puff of smoke revealed a small fragment of Katsuyu, her loyal summon.
“Lady Katsuyu,” she said flatly, her voice devoid of emotion, “please tend to that person’s injuries.”
Katsuyu blinked. “Understood, Sakura-chan.”
The slug slithered toward Sasuke and began to coat the bleeding stump with healing enzymes.
Naruto looked between them, confusion painted all over his dirt and tear-streaked face. He turned to Sakura, hurt in his voice. “Why… why didn’t you heal him yourself?”
Sakura watched the healing proceed from afar, arms limp at her sides. Then she finally said, without looking at either of them, “I’m glad you two are friends again.”
Naruto’s breath caught. “Sakura-chan…” he whispered, stunned.
Kakashi exhaled slowly, his eyes closing. A sharp ache bloomed in his chest.
“What do you mean, Sakura-chan?” Naruto asked again, a note of panic rising in his voice as he struggled to sit up, despite the raw, open wound on his arm. “Sasuke is back. He’s—”
“Your friend,” Sakura cut in sharply.
Naruto's voice rose with frustration. “And yours too! Don’t say it like he’s some stranger to you! We’re Team 7, remember?!”
“...Naruto,” Sasuke finally spoke for the first time since they’d arrived. His voice was hoarse, but the warning in it was clear.
Naruto whipped his head toward him. “What the hell is going on with her?! Why is she acting like, like she doesn’t even know you!”
Sakura let out a slow exhale, she continued mending the skin around Naruto’s wound. “Because I don’t,” she said plainly. “Not really. I only knew Uchiha Sasuke through you.”
“What are you blabbering about?!” Naruto barked. “How in the hell do you know Sasuke ‘through me’?! Sakura-chan, you’ve been in love with him since forever!”
He made to stand but winced immediately, pain flaring in his shoulder.
Sakura shot him a glare and snapped, “Can you calm down?! I’m not finished healing you, and you’re going to tear the muscle again, you idiot!”
“Sasuke, say something!” Naruto turned toward him again, desperate and confused. “Did you do something to her with that genjutsu? Did you mess up her head? Sakura-chan’s not acting like herself!”
Sakura’s hand lifted suddenly—smack!—her palm hit the side of Naruto’s head.
“Shut up for a second, will you?” she scolded. “I’m trying to keep you from bleeding out. You’re even more annoying than usual today.”
Naruto groaned. “Then check Sasuke, too! He’s hurt worse than me!”
“I’m already having Lady Katsuyu tend to him,” she replied curtly. “That’s enough.”
“But why won’t you go to him?!” Naruto demanded.
Sakura’s hands froze mid-motion. She didn’t look at either of them for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was eerily calm.
“You’re overthinking things. You’re just emotional. I get it, you’ve been waiting for this moment for years. You’re happy he’s back. I’m happy for you. But don’t start sprouting nonsense just because you’re overwhelmed.”
Naruto stared at her, his throat tightening. “But… you love Sasuke.”
Sakura blinked slowly. Then she gave a short, tired laugh, as if he’d just told her a childish rumor.
“Naruto, I know you’re proud of your long fight finally ending, but please stop embarrassing yourself with this kind of talk.”
Kakashi, who had remained silent through the exchange, finally stepped forward. Something felt wrong. Off. The tone of her voice. The way she ignore Sasuke. The almost mechanical way she responded, like her emotions had been neatly packed into a box and sealed shut.
He walked toward Sasuke’s side and knelt beside him. Sasuke’s eyes flicked to meet his. He simply stared at Sasuke, searching, trying to read something deeper. Something that wasn’t physical. Something fractured inside Sakura that didn’t align with the girl he knew.
In a quiet, deliberate voice, Kakashi asked, “Sasuke…did you show her anything?”
Sasuke’s jaw clenched, muscles twitching as he turned his face to the sky, avoiding the weight of Kakashi’s gaze. “No,” he replied stiffly, his tone almost too neutral. “I only meant to keep her out of the fight.”
“But the genjutsu was intense,” Kakashi said, his voice tightening. “What exactly did you use?”
Sasuke didn’t respond.
Kakashi’s brow furrowed, his voice dropped further, now tinged with suspicion. “Did you trap her in a Tsukuyomi-like sequence?”
“No,” Sasuke snapped, quicker than necessary, and too defensive.
Kakashi turned his head to look at Sakura, who was still kneeling beside Naruto, focused on closing the last of his wound. Her expression was the same as always, slightly impatient, short-tempered, annoyed at Naruto’s dramatics. But the warmth she used to show… the subtle looks she used to steal toward Sasuke… the quiet longing in her eyes… it was all gone.
The only thing missing from Sakura… was her affection towards Sasuke.
And in that moment, it clicked. His attention shifted back to the two boys. “Naruto. Sasuke. Are the healing effects enough for now? Has the bleeding stopped?”
Naruto looked at his bandaged stump. “Uhh… yeah, I think so,” he said cautiously. “But why are you asking—?”
Sasuke gave a slow nod, silent and watchful. He slowly sat up, despite Katsuyu still attached to his bleeding left stump.
Kakashi turned back to Sakura, still oblivious to her surroundings.
“…I’m sorry, Sakura,” he said quietly.
Kakashi raised his hand and delivered a precise chop to the back of her neck.
Sakura’s eyes widened in shock. “Wha—?” was all she could utter before her body slumped forward, unconscious.
Kakashi caught her gently before she hit the ground.
“SENSEI!” Naruto shouted in disbelief, scrambling forward. “What the hell are you doing?! She just woke up! Why would you—?!”
Kakashi looked down at Sakura’s unconscious form in his arms, face peaceful in sleep, too peaceful for the turmoil she didn't even realize she cause.
“Ketsudan Genjutsu: Shinenkai.” He looked at Sasuke specifically.
“What… the hell was that?” Naruto asked.
“A Decisive Illusionary Technique,” Kakashi said, his voice grave, the weight of his words settling thickly over the group.
His eyes stay at Sasuke, who sat motionless, his expression unreadable as always. But his gaze, though outwardly steady, held a deeply turbulent undercurrent, a silent struggle raging beneath the surface of his icy composure.
“What kind of jutsu is it?” Naruto's brows furrowed in confusion.
Kakashi inhaled deeply before answering. “It’s a self-inflicted genjutsu. Unlike Tsukuyomi, which traps the victim in a world of the caster’s making, this jutsu turns inward. The user rewrites their own Mind-Heart Realm, the very core of their emotional and psychological being. They select specific memories… and alter the emotional value attached to them.”
Naruto’s eyes widened. “Wait… so it’s like—like lying to yourself?”
“More than that,” Kakashi said firmly. “It’s a forced shift in identity. You see… the technique requires a trigger. It must be initiated while the user is under the influence of a powerful external genjutsu that targets perception or emotion, like the one Sasuke cast on Sakura. That external genjutsu acts as the anchor, the root, allowing the user’s mind to accept such a radical alteration. Without it, the human mind would naturally reject the change. But when the pain becomes unbearable… the mind will do anything to survive.”
“But… why would Sakura-chan do that? It doesn’t make sense! She loves Sasuke! She always has!”
“That’s exactly why she did it. Because she loved him too deeply, she reached her breaking point.”
“This jutsu… it’s not something anyone uses unless they’re truly at the edge. It’s a last resort. Sakura didn’t want to forget Sasuke completely, that would’ve torn her mind apart. She targeted the feelings instead. She silenced the part of herself that couldn’t stop hurting. She surgically removed the emotion… but kept the memory intact.”
Naruto’s voice was barely a whisper now. “So… she rewrote Sasuke in her mind?”
“Yes,” Kakashi said. “She reshaped the entire emotional framework around him. In her mind, he’s no longer someone she loved. Just someone who was… a teammate. A friend of a friend.”
Naruto looked shaken to his core, his mouth parted slightly, like he couldn’t breathe. “She really believes that now?”
“She does,” Kakashi confirmed. “And what’s more… she doesn’t even know she changed it. That’s part of the technique. It creates a false consistency, like the feelings were never there in the first place.”
“If we confront her about it directly, it could destabilize the illusion, the brain cannot accept a contradiction that extreme without breaking down. It’s dangerous.”
“So what now? How the hell do we reverse it if we’re not even allowed to talk about it?! If she thinks she never loved him, then how do we make her remember?”
“There is no reversal technique,” Kakashi said grimly. “Nothing concrete. If she meant to cast the jutsu, then it could last forever. You can’t force someone to remember what they’ve already chosen to forget.”
“But this isn’t right,” Naruto said, his voice cracking. “This isn’t her. Sakura-chan doesn’t forget. She’s the one who held on the longest. She waited for Sasuke for years.”
Kakashi remained silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to Sasuke, jaw clenched, eyes downcast.
Naruto’s voice dropped to a whisper. “So we’re supposed to just sit here and pretend like none of it ever happened?”
Kakashi let out a weary breath. “Yes. Just wait, sometimes it fades with time… or with the right trigger. But if she cast it because she finally let go, if this is her choice, it may never fade.”
Kakashi glanced again at Sasuke, who hadn’t moved. His right fist was clenched so tightly that the veins stood out against his pale skin, knuckles white. He exhaled sharply, something bitter behind his breath.
“Maybe this is what’s best for Sakura,” Kakashi said at last, voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “To be free of this... of you.” His gaze didn’t waver from Sasuke’s face. “Right, Sasuke?”
Naruto looked sharply between them. “No. Don’t say that. That’s not what this is. Sakura-chan did it again, she’s lying to herself, she—”
“Right,” Sasuke answered, cutting Naruto off.
The single word dropped like a stone in a still pond. He didn’t look at either of them. His eyes were on the ground, empty and dark.
Naruto stared at him in disbelief. “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that. You—”
“She cast the jutsu,” Sasuke said flatly, his voice low and hoarse. “That’s the truth, isn’t it?”
Kakashi watched Sasuke carefully, his single visible eye narrowing. He’d seen this boy at his lowest, his most broken, his most dangerous. But this lifeless shell before him, was something else entirely. His disappointment settled like a stone in his chest.
He turned slightly away from them, staring at the waterfall. When he spoke again, there was bitterness in his tone, cold, biting sarcasm that he rarely allowed to slip through.
“After all, Sasuke once said he had no reason to love her,” Kakashi muttered. “No reason to be loved by her.”
Sasuke’s silence stretched, like a wound that wouldn’t close.
“And now she’s gone and erased it all,” Kakashi continued, voice tight. He turned, fixing Sasuke with a hard stare. “You’re not even going to ask why, are you?”
Still, no answer.
Kakashi’s fist clenched at his sides, the veins visible through the torn fabric of his gloves. His body was still aching from the long battle, but if he had the strength, if Sasuke wasn’t so battered maybe he would’ve punched Sasuke right then and there. For all the shit he put Sakura through.
Sasuke’s lips barely moved. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Bullshit,” Naruto growled. “It matters. It always mattered.”
Kakashi looked away again, the disappointment settling deeper, mixing now with an ache of helplessness. He had tried. So had Naruto. But maybe, maybe this truly was the end of the road for whatever remained between Sasuke and Sakura.
Maybe this was what Sakura needed to be free.
People often said, you don't know what you've got until it's gone.
Sasuke had always dismissed that. It sounded weak, sentimental—things he had no room for. He never cared for clichés like that. He was not the kind of man who clung to the past, not someone who romanticized what was lost. He was the type who knew what was his and what wasn’t. If something slipped from his grasp, it simply meant it was never meant to stay. Regret? He didn't have time for it. Not when he had lived every day consumed by revenge, by survival, by the single-minded pursuit of power.
That was his reality, until just a few days ago. Until Naruto beat the hell out of him. Until that idiot stood bloodied and broken in front of him, refusing to back down, refusing to give up on him, screaming with his fists, with his eyes, with his very soul, that Sasuke wasn’t alone. That he had never been alone. And only then, beneath the rubble of his pride, in the stillness that followed after years of chaos, did Sasuke begin to see it.
His brother had protected him from the shadows for his entire life. He had shouldered the burden of their clan's sins, all to give Sasuke the chance to walk freely.
Kakashi, his teacher, his guardian, had always offered wisdom, quiet understanding, and guidance. Sasuke had ignored him, brushed aside his advice like wind in his ears, but now he could hear the truth in every word Kakashi had ever spoken. And the grief behind them.
Naruto had sacrificed his right arm for Sasuke’s sake. For the bond Sasuke had spent so long rejected, denied, yet Naruto held onto it with unwavering belief.
And then, there was Sakura.
During the war, when they were fighting Kaguya, Sasuke’s heart had been completely clouded by vengeance and hatred. There had been no room for softness, no time for feelings. Love and friendship? Those were luxuries. Distractions. He had calculated every move for victory, for justice in his own twisted vision.
And in that ruthless pursuit, he abandoned her.
When Madara stabbed her, when she nearly fell into the lava, when she was breathless and exhausted trying to keep up, he didn’t look back. Caring was dangerous. Caring made people hesitate. Caring made people die.
But something changed in the Valley of the End. When he opened his eyes after that final blow and saw her approaching, still standing, still breathing, he felt something unfamiliar.
Relief.
Gratitude.
Guilt.
She had survived. She had lived through the nightmare he had helped create. And he wanted to say something—thank you, maybe, or I’m sorry, or even you’re here—but the words caught in his throat. Because she didn’t look at him the same way.
Her eyes, once full of worry and affection, didn't search for him. They sought Naruto. And when she did glance at Sasuke, it was without the weight of the love she once carried. It was the kind of look reserved for a stranger.
She no longer loved him.
The feelings she had once screamed at him, with desperate tears and trembling hands, the ones he had so coldly rejected, so callously ignored, they were gone. Gone. She had severed the ties, within herself, rewriting her own destiny to save herself from the soul-crushing pain of loving someone as ungrateful and destructive as he had been.
For her, he was no longer the boy she loved. No longer the center of her heart. Just… someone she know. A friend of Naruto.
And in that moment, for the first time in his life—
Uchiha Sasuke regretted.
He finally understood what people meant when they said: "You don't know what you've got until it's gone." And he had lost something irreplaceable. Something that had been exclusively, unfathomably, devotedly his, a fierce, unconditional love that had withstood every betrayal, every cruelty, every attempt to push her away. He had rejected it, scorned it, taken it for granted, believing it would always be there, an unyielding constant in his chaotic existence. But now, it was simply... gone.
And the bitter irony of it twisted in his gut: he had never even been able to say "thank you" for a devotion he had never deserved. He had lost the one person whose love was selfless enough to forgive his darkest deeds, and now, that wellspring of affection had simply run dry, redirected, leaving him in a loneliness, devoid of the vibrant, hopeful spring color he never realized she brought to his dark life.
“Good morning, Naruto. Sasuke-san.”
The soft click of the door opening was immediately followed by Sakura’s calm, professional voice. She stepped into the hospital room dressed in her white medical coat, clipboard in hand. Her hair was neatly tied back, and the sunlight streaming from the window bounced off the pale fabric of her coat, almost giving her a sterile glow. She looked every bit the healer she had trained to be, capable, composed, and— distant.
It had been nearly two weeks since the war ended. Two weeks of bandages, silence, and stinging self-awareness. Two weeks of watching Sakura treat him like a stranger.
There's no smiled when she interacted with him, no warmth in her voice when she spoke to him, no gentleness in her eyes when they met his. Instead, her attention shifted entirely to Naruto, laughing with him, chatting casually, returning to that easy rhythm they had always shared.
Sasuke sat upright in his hospital bed, arms stiff at his sides, posture tense. He didn't respond immediately. He was still stuck on how she said his name, even after two weeks.
Sasuke-san.
Never in his life had he realized how much that simple suffix meant to him until now, until it was gone.
It stirred something ugly in him. A low, simmering anger that coiled deep in his gut, threatening to rise.
Naruto, as always, was oblivious. “Good morning, Sakura-chan!” he chirped with the same boyish energy he somehow always retained, even after nearly dying. “What’s for breakfast today? Is it rice again? C’mon, I’ve been good! Can I please eat ramen? I’m seriously dying in here! Not eating Ichiraku for almost two weeks? That’s got to be a war crime or something, right, Sakura-chan?”
Sakura's eyes were on Naruto’s chart, her hand scribbling notes with practiced efficiency. “No ramen,” she replied coolly. “Your sodium levels are still too high. You can have miso soup and grilled fish. And stop whining.”
“Aww, you’re so mean, Sakura-chan!” Naruto groaned dramatically, tossing his head back on the pillow.
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer. Instead, she adjusted Naruto’s IV, then placed a hand on his forehead. It was the same Sakura, he realized, same attitude, same temper, same care. Just not with him.
He clenched his fist beneath the blanket, knuckles tightening so hard it made the bandages strain. He had faced gods, brought the world to the brink of ruin, and walked through fire with blood on his hands. This quiet, suffocating silence from her, was the most humiliating punishment of all.
He didn’t want her forgiveness. He didn’t even think he deserved her kindness. But he wanted something. A reaction. A trace of who they once were. A flicker of the old Sakura, the one who would care for him, cry for him, clung to him. The girl who looked at him like he was someone worth loving, not a duty she had to perform.
He wanted her to scold him. To say "Sasuke-kun" like she always did, with that mix of affection and stubbornness in her voice. Not this. Not “Sasuke-san”, like he was a stranger. An outsider. A mistake she couldn’t let herself care about anymore.
The way she smiled at Naruto, still familiar, still full of light, made him feel small. Like he had already been replaced. Like he never really belonged in that place between them in the first place.
His pride burned in his throat.
The curtain between his bed and Naruto’s had been drawn back to let the morning sun spill across the room. The soft light caught in Sakura’s hair as she approached his bed.
“Can I see your arm?” she asked flatly, her voice the same annoying professional tone.
He didn’t answer, just glared at her, jaw tense. She didn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t flinch either. Just set her clipboard down on the table beside him and reached for the edge of the bandage. Her fingers were steady, clinical, carefully avoiding his skin as if it would burn her.
“I’m going to unwrap the bandage now,” she said, still not looking at him.
Her hands moved with practiced ease, slow and meticulous, the way a healer’s should. The fabric peeled away layer by layer, revealing the scarred skin beneath,, his left arm, or what remained of it.
“This is healing well,” she murmured, eyes scanning the stitches, the tissue. “No signs of infection. You’re responding to the salve properly. The scabbing’s clean.”
She continued, rattling off medical observations in that maddeningly neutral voice. Temperature. Muscle reaction. Tissue density. Nerve sensitivity. Always the same questions. Does it ache? Can you feel this? Rate the pain from one to ten.
She asked them all without a flicker of familiarity.
With Naruto, she still smiled. Still scolded him playfully when he whined about Ichiraku ramen. But with Sasuke…
With Sasuke, there was nothing.
He swallowed down the lump in his throat and stared at the ceiling. Her hands brushed the edge of his forearm, barely touching him, as if even skin-to-skin contact was too intimate now.
“Sakura…” His voice broke the silence like a crack in glass—low, unused, hoarse.
She paused mid-motion, fingers hovering over the roll of fresh bandage. Her eyes flicked up, not to meet his gaze, but merely in polite acknowledgement. “Yes?”
It wasn’t the “yes?” he knew. It wasn’t laced with concern or exasperation or the hidden smile she used to wear when she talked to him. No pink in her cheeks, no softening of her tone.
He wanted to scream at her. Do you really not remember me? Have you erased me? Am I just a task on your clipboard now? A chart to update, a wound to observe, nothing more?
“You promised, you said you’d make me happy. And now I’m here, finally, I’m back. Why won’t you even look at me?”
But all those words stayed buried. Lodged behind clenched teeth and a heavy tongue.
“…I need more painkiller,” he muttered instead, the lie bitter on his tongue. He turned his head to the side, hiding the tremble in his jaw.
There was a soft rustle of paper as she flipped through her chart. “Understood,” she replied, scribbling something down. “Sasuke-san’s internal organs are still showing signs of irregular function. The experimental drugs Orochimaru used on you are most likely the cause. I’ll adjust your dosage and monitor your response—”
He didn’t care.
He didn’t hear her.
He was barely listening.
He stared at the sky outside the window, jaw tightening. Every clinical word she said felt like a blade. She sounded like she was reading from a textbook. Like he was a specimen.
“It's painful,” he said suddenly, cutting her off. His voice was more desperate this time, quieter. “My arm.”
That made her pause. Just slightly.
“Phantom limb pain,” she said, her tone still even. “It’s a neurological response. Your brain still sends signals to the missing limb. We can try mirror therapy or increasing your pain medication to help reduce the frequency—”
Great. Yes, that’s right. Pay attention to me. Just look at me.
Still, she didn’t look at him.
She continued speaking, reciting protocols from memory. Her hands moved deftly as she adjusted the gauze, careful not to touch more skin than necessary. There was no tremble in her fingers, no hesitation like there used to be. No spark in her eyes when they lingered on his face.
He remembered how she used to get flustered if their hands brushed. How she’d stumble over her words, cheeks red, unable to hold his gaze too long. Now she barely even acknowledged the shape of him.
He shut his eyes tightly, turning his face further toward the wall. He didn’t want her to see. Didn’t want her to know just how much power she actually had over him. How her indifference wounded him.
But she’d already finished. Already moving on from him. “Alright, I’ll return in the afternoon with updated medications. Try to get more rest, both of you.”
Naruto’s voice drifted from the other side of the room. “Oi, Sakura-chan! Tell me ramen’s on the menu today. Please? I’ve been dreaming about miso pork for a week now—”
“You’re on broth and porridge for another three days,” she replied automatically.
“Three days?! That’s cruel!”
Sasuke closed his eyes, the sound of their voices filling his ears. A part of him wanted to scream. Another part just wanted to disappear.
Because it hurt watching her smile at Naruto and realizing, she no longer smiled at him.
For the first time in weeks, Sasuke was allowed to step out of his hospital room. The confinement had been a quiet torment, pushing him to the brink of boredom, especially after Naruto, with his absurd, rapid healing ability, had bounced out days ago. Sasuke, however, remained mostly confined, his body agonizingly slower to recover from the war's brutal toll, and his heart, that tangled mess of regret and self-recrimination even slower to settle into any semblance of peace.
He couldn't stand the sterile confines of his room any longer, the suffocating silence broken only by the hum of medical equipment. He needed air, space, a place where the weight of his thoughts wouldn't feel so crushing.
He wandered aimlessly through the hospital corridor, the cool, sterile scent of antiseptic and lingering medical supplies hanging heavy in the air. The hospital itself was a hive of activity, still bustling with the grim aftermath of the Great War. Nurses moved with hurried efficiency, doctors spoke in hushed, urgent tones, and the hushed murmurs of recovering shinobi filled the background. As he moved, he could feel eyes on him. People stared, their reactions various: fear flickered in wide eyes, disgust twisted lips into subtle sneers, repulsion made some quickly avert their gaze or even step back.
Sakura visited him twice a day. No more, no less. Her presence in his room was a study in professional detachment. She was professional, her movements efficient, her touch gentle when checking his pulse, silent as she adjusted his IV or cleaned his wounds. Always polite, always distant. Now, only the precise motions of a dedicated medic remained. And with every quiet click of the door as she walked away, the ache in Sasuke's chest grew heavier, a cold, leaden weight of something irrevocably lost.
He decided to go to the rooftop, the very spot where his rivalry with Naruto had first flared into a serious fight, where their nascent deadly jutsu had almost pierced Sakura if Kakashi hadn't been as fast as light. A chilling question gnawed at him: what remained of that memory in Sakura's mind? Had she simply forgotten the specifics of his betrayal, or had the entire agonizing sequence, the sheer terror of standing between them, been utterly erased, deemed too painful to ever remember? The thought of his actions being scrubbed from her history, not out of forgiveness, but out of self-preservation, was a bitter pill.
He neared the rooftop, drawn by the promise of solitude and fresh air, but suddenly paused. A flicker of chakra, distinct and familiar, reached his heightened senses. He leaned his back against the cool, rough wall, melting into the shadowed edge of the stairwell.
There she was.
Stood near the edge of the rooftop garden, wearing her usual red top and that short purple skirt she often wore under her white coat. Her back was straight, arms crossed loosely in front of her. She looked calm, unaware she was being watched.
She was speaking to someone.
A man in a white coat. Another doctor. Tall, dark-haired, clean-cut. Sasuke narrowed his eyes slightly. Why were they up here? Of all places? Why so... secluded?
“I like you, Haruno-san,” the man said, taking a hesitant step forward. “Since the moment you started working at this hospital, I’ve admired you. Quietly, from a distance. Your kindness... your talent... you mesmerize me.”
Sasuke’s jaw clenched. His fingers curled unconsciously into fist.
“If I’m allowed,” the man continued, “I want to make you happy. I don’t mind being the second choice. I promise, I would never make you cry. Seeing you smile, it's the best thing in the world.”
Sasuke felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.
"Sakura-chan's smile is the best thing in the world." The echo of that familiar sentence, spoken countless times with unwavering sincerity, reverberated in his mind. It was his best friend's voice, brimming with open, honest adoration for Sakura. Naruto, who had always championed her, always protected her, always cherished her happiness above all else.
Now, another man dared to voice the very sentiment, dared to step into the space Sasuke had abandoned. He watched as this stranger, with clear intent in his eyes, openly declared his desire to mend the very heart Sasuke had shattered. Sasuke was forced to confront the chilling reality: he no longer had a chance. The bridge to that vibrant, hopeful future she once offered him was burned, and he, the one who lit the match, was left on the desolate shore, watching someone else reach for the light.
Sakura didn’t speak for a moment. Then slowly, she bowed. Deeply.
“Thank you, Ren-san,” she said politely, voice quiet and composed.
Ren. So that was his name.
Sasuke should have left. He had no right to eavesdrop, no right to feel what he was feeling. Not after everything. Not after what he did. But still, he stayed, hidden in the corner, his breath shallow and heart pounding.
His pride burned, yes, but what burned more was the jealousy eating away at his chest.
He needed to hear her response.
Ren gently touched Sakura’s shoulder, straightening her from her bow. “Haruno-san... please,” he whispered. “Don’t just thank me. Say something more.”
She looked away, her gaze lost somewhere in the city skyline.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I can’t return your feelings.”
Ren’s hopeful expression faltered. His smile turned into a painful grimace as he looked off to the side.
“Why?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
Sakura’s shoulders trembled.
“Because...” she whispered. “There’s someone I like.”
Sasuke’s chest tightened instantly.
Who? Who was it?
She had erased him from her life. Could it be Naruto?
Ren exhaled, long and slow. “So the rumors are true then,” he murmured. “It’s Uchiha Sasuke, isn’t it?”
Sasuke held his breath. He felt like his ribs were going to snap from the pressure.
But then Sakura’s next words shattered him.
“No,” she said softly. “It’s not him.”
So this... this was what it felt like.
Rejection.
Not spoken directly to him, but rejection all the same. Hearing the girl who once devoted everything to him, now denying him so easily, without hesitation, it hurt. It hurt in a way that made breathing difficult. His heart beat painfully, the ache so sharp it almost made him dizzy. So this was why people called it heartbreak.
“Then who? If it’s not him… then who is it?”
Sakura didn’t answer.
Her shoulders trembled, head hung low, strands of pink hair falling forward and veiling her face. Her hands clenched and unclenched by her sides, trembling as though she were holding something in, or holding something back.
Ren took a cautious step forward. “Haruno-san…?” he said softly, concern etching into his voice. “Are you… crying?”
Before she could respond, before Ren could even think of stepping closer, another voice sliced through the silence.
“Sakura.”
Ren startled. He turned sharply toward the source of the voice, his eyes widening at the sudden appearance of Uchiha Sasuke emerging from the shadows. Sasuke’s eyes didn’t even flick toward Ren. They were locked on Sakura's trembling frame.
Ren stepped forward, this time with more urgency, as if to shield her.
“Leave,” Sasuke said coldly.
Ren froze. The authority in Sasuke’s tone was chilling. Not just firm, but final. A command.
Still, Ren hesitated. He didn’t back away right away, his body caught between pride and uncertainty. Maybe he was scared of the Uchiha, or maybe he was just irritated, annoyed that Sasuke had appeared and ruined his moment. Either way, Sasuke didn’t give a damn. He took another step forward, slow and deliberate, the movement predatory.
His eyes met Ren’s now. Sharp. Burning. Intimidating.
Ren took a small step back.
“Haruno-san is—” he started, his voice low, as if trying to justify staying.
“Just leave,” Sasuke repeated, this time with more force, his voice rising like thunder in the heavy air.
Ren didn’t try again. He cast one last glance toward Sakura, then turned and walked down the stairwell without another word, his footsteps echoing behind him until they faded.
And now, it was just the two of them.
Sasuke didn’t move closer right away. He just stood there behind her, just like he had that day more than three years ago, when she’d tried—foolishly and bravely—to stop him from leaving the village. When she’d thrown her heart in front of him, trembling and bare, asking him to stay.
The wind stirred again. The sky had turned a heavy gray, thick with clouds. It was going to rain soon.
“Sakura,” he called gently, his voice stripped of anger now, only a low gravity remained.
Sakura finally lifted her head. She turned slightly, just enough for him to see her face, eyes still wet, cheeks streaked with tears. But as soon as she realized he was there, really standing there, she wiped at her face quickly with the back of her hand, as though trying to erase the evidence.
“Sasuke-san,” she said. She turned to fully face him, stepping back as she did, putting distance between them. “Sasuke-san, do you need something?”
Sasuke stared at her, something flickering in his gaze, something uncertain, restrained. And then he asked the question that had been eating him alive.
“The person you like… who is it?”
It sounded ridiculous the moment it left his mouth. He knew that. Who was he to ask? What right did he have? He was just her teammate. A distant one. They’d barely spoken in years. And yet…
Sakura's eyes widened. She opened her mouth slightly, startled. Her lips pressed together again, her gaze narrowing. “That’s none of your business,” she replied. Her tone was sharp, cutting. Not the softness he remembered.
He took a small breath. “It’s Naruto, isn’t it?” he said, forcing the words out.
Sakura’s expression twisted into something angrier. Her shoulders squared as she stared at him.
“Just because you’re close to Naruto doesn’t mean you can cross boundaries with me,” Sakura snapped, her voice sharp, laced with irritation. “You and I… we were never close, Sasuke-san. We were teammates, that’s all. I don’t know you personally.”
His throat constricted as something raw clawed at the inside of his chest. A chill swept through him that had nothing to do with the wind brushing across the rooftop.
“If she meant to cast the jutsu, then it could last forever. You can’t force someone to remember what they’ve already chosen to forget.”
He scoffed, though the sound came out hoarse, closer to a wounded breath than amusement. There was no humor in him, only the painful hollowness of disbelief.
She really forgot… all about him.
Anger swelled within him, a heat that clawed up his spine and made his hands tremble. But buried beneath the anger was something far worse: panic. Cold, unfamiliar panic. Not the kind that came in battle, that could be solved with precision and blade, but the kind that came with helplessness. With loss.
“Sakura,” he said again, softer this time, his voice fraying at the edges.
She crossed her arms, expression unreadable, but her stance was defensive. Her body was tense, like she was bracing for something unpleasant. “What is it?”
He took a slow, deliberate step forward.
“You really don’t remember?”
“Remember what?”
His heart clenched. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the wind rustling her hair. And suddenly, images rushed through his mind, fast and unrelenting.
Sakura, waiting for him in the stone bench, trying to stop him from leaving the village.
Sasuke-kun, please... don’t go.
If you stay, I'll make everyday fun.
Without Sasuke-kun, it's same like loneliness for me.
Her voice, full of desperation and love, ringing in his ears even now.
Sakura, smiling shyly when she clung to his arm, ignoring his harsh words.
Sakura, always there, always waiting, even when he hurt her, rejected her.
Sasuke-kun… Sasuke-kun…
She used to say his name with affection.
Kakashi’s voice came back again, cutting through his spiraling thoughts.
“If we confront her about it directly, it could destabilize the illusion. The brain cannot accept a contradiction that extreme without breaking down. It’s dangerous.”
Dangerous. For her.
He looked at her now, calm, cold, untethered from him entirely, and wondered if this version of her was better off. She wasn’t burdened by the pain he’d caused. She didn’t carry the weight of betrayal, or abandonment, or love that went unanswered.
She was free.
And he had never felt more trapped.
Could he really shatter that peace just for his own selfish need to be remembered?
Could he hurt her all over again, just so she’d look at him the way she used to?
He swallowed hard. “Forget it,” he muttered finally, turning away from her.
“Sasuke-san,” she called, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t look back.
He left the rooftop with his fist clenched and his heart breaking all over again, quietly, in a way no one else would see.
“Sasuke,” Kakashi began, his voice solemn, carrying the weight of his responsibility as Hokage. “The decision has been made.”
“Your actions during the Fourth Great War, sealing Kaguya, releasing the Infinite Tsukuyomi, were undeniably heroic,” Kakashi continued. “Naruto… he fought hard for you. He stood before the council, before the elders, defending your name day after day.”
There was a pause. Sasuke heard the way Kakashi’s voice softened with regret.
“But some things couldn’t be erased. The crimes you committed before the war… the chaos, the people you hurt, the betrayal. Those can’t go unpunished.”
Sasuke didn’t flinch. He didn’t need Kakashi’s pity or Naruto’s mercy.
“After long deliberation,” Kakashi said finally, “the sentence is six months in confinement. I tried to shorten it, truly, I did, but this is the best I could manage. I’m sorry, Sasuke.”
Sorry?
Sasuke almost scoffed. Six months? That was all?
For turning his back on the village, attacking the Kage, for the lives he shattered?
Six months felt like a mockery.
But he said nothing. He simply lowered his head as Kakashi exited the room, the heavy door shutting behind him with a resounding clang.
Days passed.
In his cold prison cell, stripped of vision, stripped of power, Sasuke found nothing but silence and his thoughts. Endless thoughts. Memories played over and over again behind the darkness of his sealed eyes: blood, betrayal, fire, tears.
And always, always, Sakura.
She came every day.
He knew it was her by her scent, her footsteps, the soft exhale of breath when she entered the cell. Her presence was like a ghost, a whisper of the life he had tried to sever but now longed to return to.
“Sasuke-san,” she said quietly one afternoon, kneeling beside him. Her voice was soft but firm, a voice he knew well, even if he hadn’t heard it in that way for a long time.
She began to unwrap the bandages from the stump where his left arm used to be. The salve was cool against his skin.
“...Naruto really tried to save you,” she said, dabbing the ointment gently.
Sasuke sat still, feeling her steady hands, even though he couldn’t see her face. Yet it clear in his head: the gentle frown of concentration, the sadness in her eyes she always tried to hide.
“I can’t help but supporting him too ,” she continued. “It’s painful to watch a friend carry so much alone.”
A pause.
“Sasuke-san… we were never close. But you’re important to Naruto, and Naruto is precious to me… I want you to be okay, because—”
“Shut up.”
She froze. Her fingers stopped moving.
“I don’t want your sympathy,” he growled. “I don’t want your care because I’m Naruto’s friend.”
“…Ah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken,” she murmured. Her hands moved again, this time faster, more mechanical. She finished dressing his wound and began packing her supplies.
The sound of her medical kit clinking echoed in the room.
Then—
His hand reached out and caught her wrist. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her. She stilled under his touch.
“…It hurts,” he whispered.
She knelt again in front of him. “What hurts?” she asked softly. “Tell me.”
“You don’t remember,” he said, voice low and trembling.
“…What?” Her voice faltered.
“It hurts that you don’t remember.”
The silence that followed was louder than any scream.
“I—don’t understand.”
He gripped her wrist tighter. “Remember me. Release the genjutsu. Stop lying to yourself.”
“Sasuke-san…” Her voice quivered, barely audible, but laced with hesitation. She was trying to pull away. Still, he didn’t loosen his grip. He couldn’t.
“You really are…” he whispered, voice hoarse, the words cracking as they left his mouth, “…annoying.”
Then, without another word, without permission, without thought, he pulled her toward him. She gasped, stumbling forward, her eyes wide in confusion, and before she could react, his lips were on hers.
It was not soft or gentle. It was a kiss of sorrow. Of regret. Of a boy who had torn himself apart and a man who realized too late what he could never fix. His single hand, cradled the side of her face like she was made of fragile glass, his thumb trembling as it rested just beneath her eye. Her lips remained still, unresponsive, a stark contrast to the desperate plea in his.
And then the tears came.
Hers.
A silent flood at first, hot and ceaseless, tracing paths down her cheeks. Then, deep, shuddering sobs began to crack through her chest, sharp tremors breaking past her control. Hot, wet tears streamed down her face, soaking into his skin where their faces pressed together, mixing into the desperate, one-sided kiss. He could feel the tremors in her body escalate, a violent shaking that racked her from head to toe, and then, without warning, her body went utterly slack in his arm.
For a terrifying second, a flicker of desperate hope ignited within him. He thought she was surrendering, that her carefully constructed jutsu had shattered, that her heart had remembered him even if her mind could not. He clung to the notion that the sheer force of his remorse had reached her, breaking through the self-imposed illusion.
But then, he felt it. The tip of his fingers, still cupping her cheek, was wet. Not tears. This was thicker. Warmer. Sticky.
He drew his hand back, and the horrific scent hit him next: iron, copper. His breath caught in his throat. It was a smell he was intimately familiar with, blood.
Panic, cold and sharp, began to claw its way up his throat. He couldn't see, couldn't rip the seals from his eyes that bound him in darkness. He groped frantically, his hand shaking uncontrollably, desperate to find her face, to feel the rise and fall of her chest, to confirm her breath.
"Sakura," he whispered, his voice a raw, fragile sound in the sudden, terrifying silence, praying for a response that didn't come.
The panic surged as he pulled her tight against him with his single arm, desperately trying to anchor her to him. When he reached around and his fingers brushed her ear, they came away slick. He touched her hairline, and again, blood.
It was leaking from her ear.
She was bleeding and he had caused it.
“If we confront her about it directly, it could destabilize the illusion, the brain cannot accept a contradiction that extreme without breaking down. It’s dangerous.”
He had pushed her. He had kissed her without consent. He had tried to tear open a mind that had already fractured. He had shattered her boundaries. All to satisfy the selfish hope that she still remembered him. That she still loved him.
He held her tighter, frantic now, shaking.
“Sakura, wake up. Please—please.”
“SAKURA!”
The heavy thud of running footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, followed by the harsh sound of keys, metal grinding against metal.
The iron door slammed open.
“Haruno-sensei! Get the med unit, now!”
Multiple voices shouted over each other, boots scuffed against the stone floor. Strong hands grabbed her body from his arm. He tried to cling to her, to hold on, but someone wrenched his arm behind his back. In a second, straitjacket was yanked over him, binding him again, pulling him away from her.
“SAKURA!”
The door slammed shut.
There was silence with the echo of her sobs, still ringing in his ears.
He sat in the middle of the cell, arm pinned, unable to wipe his face as the tears began to fall. Slowly at first, then faster. They leaked through the seal over his eyes, tracing warm trails down his cheeks, down to his chin.
He hadn't realized he was crying until the wetness soaked into the collar of his jacket.
He lowered his head.
"...What did I do to her?" he whispered into the dark, the words crumbling on his lips.
A tray was set down with a dull thud, the metallic clink of utensils following. Naruto's scent lingered in the air as he approached, sweat, a trace of ramen. He had been visiting every day, trying to convince Sasuke to eat, to speak, to cooperate.
“Sasuke, eat,” Naruto said firmly, his voice devoid of the casual, friendly warmth that Naruto carried like sunlight.
Sasuke's head was turned slightly toward the sound of his friend’s voice.
“You haven’t touched your food in three days. Sensei will be here in a few more minutes. They’re talking about releasing you. If you eat and cooperate… it’ll help.”
Sasuke felt nothing, not even the promise of his freedom can erase the burden he carried, all he ever wanted just one, he asked the question again, the one he had been repeating like a broken prayer since they took Sakura away.
“…How is Sakura?”
Naruto sighed. It was the umpteenth time Sasuke had asked the same question, Naruto had dodged it, again.
“C’mon, Sasuke. You know I can’t tell you anything about that.”
“Why?” Sasuke snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. “Why won’t you answer me? What are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Naruto said, trying to deflect. “It’s protocol. She’s being treated, it’s… complicated.”
“Is she okay?” Sasuke asked again, the question more like a plea now. His voice cracked at the end. “Naruto… is she okay?”
Naruto tried to force a laugh, to lighten the mood. “Just eat, alright? You can’t go out there if you die starving in here. That’s not very Uchiha of you.”
Sasuke didn’t even react to the joke. He turned his head toward the sound of Naruto’s breath, listening.
Then, in a broken whisper, he repeated it again.
“Is she okay? Just answer the damn question.”
“...Oh crap.”
“Just tell me,” Sasuke snapped, louder than he had spoken in days. “Just fucking tell me, Naruto!”
“She’s not fine,” said another voice, low, even, and entirely devoid of comfort.
“Kakashi."
“She’s in a coma,” he said flatly, offering no gentleness, no cushion for the blow. “Or, to phrase it in a way you might understand better. Sakura figured out how to shut her own brain off. Genius, isn’t she?”
“Sensei,” Naruto murmured beside him.
“What the fuck do you mean, Kakashi?” Sasuke’s voice cracked. His blindfold pressed tightly against his skin, but even without sight, he felt the walls closing in.
Kakashi took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Her brain snapped, Sasuke. The moment you triggered those manipulated memories, her mind couldn’t handle it. You tore through that carefully built dam.”
Sasuke’s heart pounded in his chest. His entire body trembled inside the tight confines of the straitjacket. He could feel bile rising in his throat.
Kakashi’s tone darkened. “When you confronted her, when you forced those memories back, her brain panicked. The jutsu collided with her real memories, fracturing them, blending timelines, overwhelming her consciousness. So her mind shut itself down to survive.”
“She’s protecting herself. Like a reflex. Like how people faint from shock or pass out during trauma, only this is deeper. More severe.”
“She’s not gone, Sasuke,” Kakashi clarified, though the words offered no comfort. “She’s trapped inside. But her chakra is fluctuating wildly. One moment stable, the next collapsing. Tsunade’s been by her side the entire time. Shizune too. We’ve tried everything.”
Sasuke’s knees buckled slightly. If not for the straitjacket binding his arm across his chest, he might have collapsed.
“I want to see her,” he said, his voice cracked and low. Pathetic. But he didn’t care. “Please… I want to see her…”
“I’m afraid you can’t,” Kakashi replied coldly.
Sasuke looked toward the sound of his voice, blindfolded but still feeling the weight of his denial. “Why? Why not?”
“I’ve already signed the documents for your release,” Kakashi said at last. “You said you wanted to go on a journey, didn’t you? Atonement. Well, here’s your chance. You can leave tomorrow..”
A wave of guilt heavier than anything he’d ever carried pressed down on him.
“You have time to make your decision,” Kakashi added. “But you won’t be allowed anywhere near Sakura. If she wakes up, when she wakes up, she’ll decide if she wants to see you.”
And with that, Kakashi presence gone, leaving behind a blindfolded Uchiha. Naruto still there, silent.
“…Is she dreaming?” Sasuke finally asked, barely above a whisper.
“We don’t know,” Naruto said. “But if she is… I hope it’s a peaceful one.”
Three Years Later
The moment Sasuke read the single word scrawled in Kakashi’s tight, unmistakable handwriting—“Awake”—his heart stopped. It didn’t come with context or pleasantries or preparation. It was just one word. But that word hit him hard.
His hands trembled as he held the paper, smudging the corner with the sweat of his palm. For a moment, he thought it was a cruel joke. A hallucination. His mind had tricked him before, once, when he passed a girl in a market with pink-tinted hair, he collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest, because from the back she looked just like her.
But this time was different. This wasn’t a trick. This was real.
She was awake.
Sasuke didn’t waste a second. He dropped his half-cooked meal by the fire, doused the flame with his boot and took off. He didn’t stop to rest, didn’t sleep, barely drank water. Time didn’t matter. His exhaustion didn’t matter.
All that mattered was getting back to her.
It had been three years.
Three years since her body had gone limp in his arm. Three years since Kakashi’s dry, bitter voice had described what happened—how the delicate neural threads of Sakura’s mind, overwhelmed conflicting jutsu-induced memories, had simply shut down to protect her. A self-induced coma. A protective mechanism. Her mind had folded in on itself like a collapsing star.
And he had been the trigger.
He had broken her.
No matter how many countries he crossed, no matter how many rogues he brought to justice or shrines he visited for penance, Sasuke could never shake that truth. He did that to her.
Every spring that passed was a knife in his chest. Cherry blossoms used to remind him of her, of her hair, her laugh, the soft scent that clung to her after training in the sun. But after the coma, he avoided every country where the blossoms bloomed. He couldn’t look at them. Couldn’t even smell them without choking.
Three springs passed with her in the brink of live and death. Three cycles of blooming and falling petals without her voice, her smile, her strength painted the world in vibrant hues.
And now, in the heart of winter, a season he once loathed for its barrenness, he felt something impossible begin to thaw in his chest.
Hope.
He raced back toward Konoha, passing frozen rivers and white-capped mountains, the cold biting at his cheeks. His heart burned too hot. His thoughts spun too fast. He had imagined this moment in dreams and nightmares, had envisioned a thousand ways she might wake, scared, disoriented, angry.
Would she even want to see him?
Would she remember?
Did she hate him?
This time, the roles were reversed. This time, he would be the one who fought for her, with a stubbornness born of newfound understanding and searing regret. She can reject, hate, ignore, or push him away with cruel word and cold action. But he swore, he wouldn't give up.
Because at least she could look at him. At least her gaze, no matter how chilling, would meet his. At least she was alive. That was enough. That had to be enough for him to begin.
When the gates of Konoha came into view, Sasuke couldn’t hold back any longer. His run become faster. He pushed himself harder, the wind howling in his ears, snow crunching beneath his feet. The world around him blurred, until three figures slowly came into focus.
They stood at the village entrance, their silhouettes small at first. But as he closed the distance, they became clearer. Kakashi stood in the right. In the left was Naruto, who was shifting excitedly, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to say. And between them—
Sakura.
Standing. Awake. Alive.
Her hair had grown longer, cascading down past her elbow, gently tousled by the winter breeze. A soft pink scarf was wrapped around her neck, the same shade as her hair. Her face had matured beautifully and her eyes… her eyes held that familiar green that haunted him in dreams and memories. But now they were full of clarity. Recognition.
She remembers him.
And then she smiled.
Genuine, warm, and radiant smile was nothing like the one he had imagined in the dark corners of his regret-riddled mind. It wasn’t forced or clouded with pain. It was soft. Forgiving. Like spring breaking through the longest winter.
“Welcome home, Sasuke-kun,” she said, her voice delicate but steady.
He staggered forward, not caring that Kakashi was watching, not caring that Naruto’s eyes had welled with quiet emotion. He reached out with the only arm he had and wrapped it around her, pulling her tightly into him. His forehead dropped to her shoulder. He trembled.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m sorry for everything, Sakura.”
He felt her arms encircle his waist, anchoring him. No hesitation. No words.
Just her embrace.
She didn’t need to say anything. He knew. She remembered.
And she had forgiven him.
In the bitter chill of winter, wrapped in her warmth, Sasuke finally felt the warm of spring returning to him.