Chapter Text
“What the hell were you thinking?” Sasuke bit out, his ragged breath matching the swift pace he set as he leapt from one branch to another. Sakura’s gaze falls to her lap, one sickly green arm lying limply as Sasuke carries her, the gentle warmth coursing through her body not from the humid air but Sasuke, whose soft tremors weren’t as discreet as she knew he’d hoped they would be.
“Well?” He spares a glance down at her, the harsh slant of his eyebrows leaving wrinkles between his brows that she itches to smooth with her good hand.
“I’m sorry.” She whispers, and the howling wind carries it away. Though she knew Sasuke had heard it from the way his frown deepened, the way his jaw clenched. “But you would’ve done it too!” It was a protest, a whine as she frowns up at Sasuke.
“You’re not me.” He says through gritted teeth, and though her lip juts out as she averts her gaze, there is nothing she can say to that.
“It worked out…right?” She chances a glance at her limp hand, gulping. “I-I mean the client is safe—”
“And what about you?” He snaps, eyes flaring red for a moment, though it’s gone just as quickly. “Why the hell didn’t you move?”
“I couldn’t! I had to protect him, and that woman was coming toward us, but if I had moved, he’d be the one being poisoned…” She trails off, the gush of wind and Sasuke’s laboured breath the only sounds for a moment. “I didn’t want to let you down…you told me to protect him and I—” She gasps at the tightening of Sasuke's fingers on her arm. “Sasuke!”
His gaze snaps towards her, then down to his vice-like grip, before he loosens his hold on her until she can barely feel his touch heating her skin. She frowns at the sudden chill, burying her side against Sasuke’s chest, her good arm clutching his shirt.
“Do…do you think I will be okay?” She asks before the words get stuck in her throat. He remains silent, but the way he pulls her closer is a good enough answer.
It was futile. It was all useless. She can hope that she’ll survive, make a miraculous recovery, but she’d seen the grave looks on their client’s face, the look of glee on the woman’s features when her mark had hit true. She sighs.
Sasuke would never have pulled her closer if she weren’t dying.
“Why not?” Sasuke’s voice, although quiet, carries a deadly sort of venom as he seethes at the medic. Though to the medic’s credit, she remains unfazed, unflinching. The elderly woman sighs.
“I already told you, our supplies ran out after the attacks began. I don’t know what else to tell you, but there’s nothing we can do.” Sakura scrutinises her face, wondering if the pinch between the woman’s brows was annoyance or sympathy. “That flower just doesn’t grow this time of year. You’re better off heading to the next village over to see if they have what you need.”
“And how far away is that?” Sasuke questions, arms crossing. The woman gazed out the window.
“You’ll have to set out in the morning.” She turns to rummage through her drawers, retrieving a dusted parchment that had long since crumbled and yellowed at the corners. “It’ll take at least four days and three nights, but…” She cast her gaze at Sakura. “Having to lug a patient around would lengthen it by who knows how long.” Sakura’s shoulders dropped.
“We don’t have that kind of time.” Sasuke's eyes snap to hers.
“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” She hadn’t expected her voice to come out so timid, so hollow.
“Show me the arm.” The medic motions her closer, and Sakura swallows thickly but approaches anyway. The woman tugs up her sleeve, eyes inspecting her shoulder. “I was hoping we could amputate the arm, but…” She sighs, and Sakura’s eyes water. “It’s already infected well past the shoulder; it’d be useless to do anything of that sort.”
“It’s okay, I, um, don’t want that anyway.” She hurries to tug down her sleeve, eyes downcast as she joins Sasuke by his side. His hands clench and unclench as his eyes snap from her to the map to the medic to the bowl where any hope of her recovery would’ve been. “Once Kakashi sensei gets here, he’ll know what to do!”
“Even if he does, who knows how long it’ll be before he finds Naruto.” Sasuke turns to her, eyes snagging on the sleeve she had yet to let go of. “You’re my priority right now.” Her shoulders rose as her stomach fluttered softly. Her inner celebrates from somewhere behind her.
“We’ll rest here tonight, and in the morning, we’ll try to get to the other village.” The medic’s eyebrows rose at Sasuke’s words, but she clamped her lips shut. “You can send a message ahead saying we’ll meet up with the medics halfway.” This time, the elderly woman scoffs but turns to reach for fresh paper.
“Thank you,” Sakura whispers to Sasuke, but he seems adamant about avoiding her gaze. She squeezes his hand, and when he doesn’t snatch his arm away, her heart seems to skip and float away. That was victory enough for Sakura.
“Whatever.” He says, his gaze downcast.
Sasuke clenches the wet towel in his hand, eyes glued to the trembling girl lying across the bed, watching as the sickly green tint spreads through Sakura’s skin until it appears above the collar of her dress.
Irrationally, he wonders if the poison would strangle her, wrap its venomous hands around her neck, squeezing until she chokes on her last breath. And just as irrationally, he wonders if he should let his Sharingan observe the moment that it happens so he can relive it over and over and over, letting it torment him, letting him continue to breathe with the knowledge that he had let a precious comrade die so easily. Just as he watched his…just as he had let them die.
A voice cloaked in darkness hisses, to let her die, to harvest the true power of the Sharingan.
“If you’re not going to use that thing, let me have it.” The medic scolds, snatching the towel from his hands to dab the sweat beading on Sakura’s pained face. “I tell you to do one thing, yet you can’t even manage that.” His fist clenches, looking away towards the window, eyeing the sun that was setting just beyond the horizon.
He had been up all night and day watching as she slipped away from him.
“She’ll be okay. I’ve been in correspondence with the medics; they’ll arrive soon enough.” The woman begins, and Sasuke scowls.
“I don’t need your pity.” He spits, though his shoulders fall the moment his gaze drops to Sakura. He certainly knows he doesn’t need pity when he has been…the voice hisses again, and his fingernails dig into his shoulder. “Will she survive?” He hears himself say it, watches on from somewhere else entirely as the words leave his mouth.
The silence alone was enough of an answer for him.
“What does it look like?” He stands, towering over the girl he refuses to look at anymore.
“Excuse me?” The old woman says as she halts, hands hovering over a trembling Sakura.
“The flower.” He says, voice low. “What does it look like?”
The medic’s eyes narrow, scrutinising his form. She doesn’t stop even when she must have surely noticed the deathly glare in his eyes, noticed the way his fingernails dig until his skin bleeds. Maybe, maybe she even hears the darkness, the hiss that claws at his conscience, at what little humanity he has left to give.
“They’re quite small. Hard to spot at night.” She gives a pointed look to the window, the first signs of nightfall creeping across the sky. “Its most distinct feature is the purple petals, though I suppose that’s its only other feature besides the yellow centre.” She sighs, dabbing Sakura’s forehead when the girl trembles. Sasuke clenches his fist. “You’ll have no hope of finding it.” She says when he approaches the doorway, as the darkening sky beckons him.
He scoffs.
All Sakura knew was that at one point, Sasuke had been by her side and the next he was gone—and she knew he had been by her side because even in her sick-riddled state, she had recognised the heat of his touch, the softened gaze that she selfishly wanted for just herself and…and him. All of him.
She stares out into the rain, just as she had done the previous day, waiting. The bags under her eyes grow heavier, yet she keeps her gaze wide, hoping for a silhouette of him, a sign, a flash of blue or red to appear amongst the downpour. Yet none of that happens.
Her eyes fall for a moment before she startles awake, gaze squinting at the slow ticking of the clock as it makes its way to midnight. She swallows. She had been out not for a moment, but two hours, it seemed.
She pushes away the covers and the suffocating heat from it, though that is as far as she gets before her body heaves for more air. More and more and more. She gasps and writhes, eyes squeezing shut as she waits for the tightening in her chest to pass, for the poison to release her from its claws.
Her lashes dampen, and she sniffles, willing for the tears to fall, to let herself have this one solace so she could soothe herself. Yet even that wish refuses to be granted. Venom crept up her throat with every sob, every choked cry until the taste of iron slid down her chin.
“Sas…ke.” His name tastes of iron, too.
Perhaps her blood, her pain, her pleas had been enough of a sacrifice because his silhouette appears before her eyes, the crackling thunder an announcement of his arrival. She swallows the thickness in her throat and blinks.
Maybe it was her delusions that brought him here. A mirage of her mind that would vanish the moment her fingertips reached for him. Could her bruised heart take another lashing?
“Sakura.” She runs to him.
He staggers from the force of her hug, from the strength she didn’t know she still possessed. Her hands cling to his neck as sobs wreak havoc over her body until she is nothing more than a shaking mess. She wishes that he would hug her back, but his presence, his warmth despite the rain clinging to his skin, is more than enough.
She buries her head into his shoulder, determined to stay like that forever.
“Hm.” The medic’s voice suddenly hums from behind her, but her body feels far too heavy to turn around. “I had underestimated you. You even brought extra.” Sakura hears the smirk in her voice, the soft huff of air the medic lets out. Sakura's eyebrows scrunch, and she pries herself far enough away from Sasuke to watch the woman grab something from Sasuke's hand.
Her eyes search his, yet his dark gaze bores into her neck, where the poison had long since tinted it green, making each iron swallow a searing burn. And it is only when the medic’s footfalls turn into whispers against creaking floorboards that his eyes meet hers, that he finally falls to his knees.
Yet his arms still wrap around her when she follows suit, softening her fall.
Their gazes hold—she is sure seconds turn to minutes. Inky skies against forest greens, and for a moment, they are one, creating a picture-perfect scene as their breaths rise and fall in time. Sakura refuses to blink. Not even time can take this precious moment away from her.
“Thank you.” Her throat burns with each sound, yet it comes out clear. Yes, it is no mighty shout, but it is something. Her something. The smallest—and perhaps only—way she could show her gratitude.
His gaze falls away.
“You would have been a liability otherwise.” His eyes darken, and not even moonlight can reveal what secrets he holds behind his gaze. But she sees them anyway. Sees the scars scattered like stars across skin, the dirt desperate to cling to the underside of his nails, the red blemishing his knees. She smiles.
“Thank you, Sasuke.” She says again as the world fades to black.