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The road to the Land of Clovers had been easy by shinobi standards, which meant it was only mildly uncomfortable, only a little dusty, and only somewhat spoiled by Naruto’s constant complaints about how long they had been walking.

“Why do rich people always build palaces so far away?” he groaned for perhaps the twelfth time that hour, dragging his sandals over the packed earth. “If I was a daimyo, I’d put my mansion right next to a ramen stand. That’s strategy.”

Kakashi turned a page in his orange book without looking up. “A visionary approach to governance.”

“It is!” Naruto said, offended that he sounded mocked. “Finally, someone gets it.”

Sakura smiled despite herself, adjusting the strap of her pack on her shoulder. The late afternoon sun caught in her hair, turning the pink strands almost luminous. It had been happening more and more often lately, that strange way light seemed to cling to her when they went beyond Fire Country’s borders. People stared. Vendors offered her free samples. Women complimented her coloring. Men nearly walked into walls.

At first it had embarrassed her. Now it mostly made her suspicious.

Beside her, Sasuke’s hand brushed the small of her back as casually as breathing, steering her around a pothole without interrupting the conversation he wasn’t technically participating in. His face remained composed, but the touch lingered for a second longer than necessary, warm and grounding through the fabric of her red top.

Naruto noticed, of course. Naruto always noticed.

He simply didn’t care anymore.

Two months ago he would have made a face and shouted something dramatic about how gross they were being. Now he barely spared them a glance. Team 7 had apparently worn him down by sheer consistency. Sasuke held Sakura’s hand when they walked. Sakura leaned against Sasuke when they stopped. Sasuke kissed her temple when he thought no one was paying attention. Naruto had caught them enough times to become almost aggressively normal about it.

“Hey, Sakura,” Naruto said, “if we finish fast, can we get dango before heading back?”

“Why are you asking me?” Sakura said.

“Because Sasuke says yes if you say yes.”

Sasuke did not deny it.

Naruto pointed triumphantly. “See?”

Sakura flushed, and Sasuke’s mouth tilted, small and private. “You’re too loud,” he told Naruto.

“And you’re predictable,” Naruto shot back.

Kakashi hummed. “I’m so proud of the team bonding.”

They reached the capital city before sunset. The Land of Clovers was wealthier than the last several places Team 7 had visited, and it showed in polished stone roads, lacquered gates, and houses painted in clean colors instead of weathered browns. Banners in green and cream hung from balconies. Soldiers in decorative armor patrolled the streets with more shine than practicality. The smell of flowers drifted from courtyard gardens hidden behind carved walls.

Their client’s estate rose near the center of the city, sprawling and ostentatious, all curved tiled roofs and carved pillars. Gold detailing gleamed at the corners. The guards at the gate wore matching crests stitched over their hearts.

A steward met them before the front steps, bowing stiffly. “Konoha shinobi. We have been expecting you.”

Kakashi tucked his book away. “Hatake Kakashi, with my team.”

The steward’s gaze flicked over them, paused on Naruto with mild alarm, shifted to Sasuke with clearer interest, and then landed on Sakura.

It stayed there.

Sakura felt it like a touch and straightened instinctively. Beside her, Sasuke went still in the precise way he did before becoming dangerous.

The steward caught himself after a beat too long and bowed lower. “Welcome. Lord Daizen will receive you after the evening meal. Until then, chambers have been prepared.”

“Great,” Naruto said. “Do the chambers come with food?”

The steward looked startled. “Yes.”

“Best mission ever,” Naruto declared.

They were led inside.

The estate was even gaudier within. Silk screens painted with cranes. Bronze incense burners shaped like lions. Inlaid wood floors so glossy Naruto nearly slipped on one. Servants moved around them with lowered heads and silent steps.

Sakura felt strange under the weight of it all. Everything looked expensive enough to shatter if she breathed too hard in the wrong direction.

A young man walked backward while guiding them down a corridor and stole one shy glance at Sakura’s face before blushing and looking away. Sakura pretended not to notice.

Sasuke noticed.

He always did.

When they reached the guest wing and the servants finally withdrew, Naruto flopped onto a cushion with a groan. “Rich people houses are exhausting.”

“They are very large,” Sakura admitted.

“They’re compensating,” Kakashi said mildly.

Sakura choked on a laugh. Naruto barked one loudly. Even Sasuke’s expression shifted.

Their rooms were arranged around a small interior garden. Kakashi had one. Naruto had one. Sakura had one. Sasuke had one. This would have mattered more before. At this point, Team 7 had a well-established understanding that the room assignments were a polite fiction and not a law of nature.

Night fell fully by the time they were summoned to dine with Lord Daizen and his household.

The meal took place in a grand hall open to a moonlit courtyard. Low tables had been arranged in a semicircle around the host’s place. Lord Daizen himself was a broad man with rings on every other finger and a beard trimmed to suggest authority. He welcomed Kakashi with oily enthusiasm, praised Konoha’s loyalty, and spoke at length about the importance of protecting diplomatic relations.

Sakura only half listened.

Her attention kept snagging on the figure seated to Lord Daizen’s right.

He was young, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, dressed in layered green silk embroidered with silver thread. His hair was dark brown, tied at the nape with a jeweled clasp, and his features were finely made in the way painters liked to immortalize. He was handsome, unquestionably. The sort of handsome that probably caused problems in less fortified people.

He was also staring at her as if she had climbed out of a legend and onto the tatami just for him.

Sakura felt her appetite vanish.

The young noble did not bother disguising it. He looked at her while the introductions continued. He looked at her while the first dishes were served. He looked at her while Naruto whispered commentary about the portions not being nearly large enough for people of his stature.

At last Lord Daizen gestured toward him. “My nephew, Prince Reiji.”

Prince.

That explained the quality of the silk.

Reiji inclined his head with practiced elegance. “An honor.”

His eyes did not leave Sakura.

Sasuke’s chopsticks clicked once against the dish in front of him.

Naruto looked from Reiji to Sakura to Sasuke and sighed with the weary resignation of someone who had seen this coming from several miles away. He tore into a dumpling.

Sakura set down her own chopsticks. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

Reiji smiled slowly, like he’d been handed a gift. “And I you.”

Kakashi’s visible eye bent into a pleasant crescent. “My student is very capable. We’re fortunate to have her.”

A subtle statement. A reminder. Not decoration. A kunoichi of Konoha.

Reiji did not seem discouraged in the slightest. “I do not doubt it.”

The meal continued, but the shape of the evening had changed. Questions began to aim themselves at Sakura. Had she traveled often outside Fire Country? Did she enjoy court life? Did she dance? Sing? Ride? What books did she prefer? Did she find the capital beautiful?

Sakura answered with careful politeness and increasing discomfort. She could feel Sasuke beside her like a storm behind glass. He remained perfectly still, perfectly silent, and therefore far more alarming than if he had already spoken.

Naruto, entirely unbothered, kept eating.

At one point Reiji asked, “Does Konoha allow its kunoichi to remain in service long? Surely someone so lovely ought to be spared the harsher work.”

Sakura blinked.

Kakashi smiled with alarming softness. “Sakura can decide for herself what work she is suited for.”

“Of course,” Reiji said, though his tone implied he had not meant of course at all.

Sasuke finally spoke.

“She doesn’t need strangers deciding for her either.”

The room quieted.

Reiji turned to him for the first time with open appraisal. “And you are?”

“Sasuke Uchiha.”

It was remarkable how often the Uchiha name altered a room. Reactions varied by country—respect, curiosity, anxiety, calculation—but they were always immediate. This time it was all four.

Reiji’s eyes sharpened. “I see.”

Sasuke met his gaze without expression. “Do you?”

Kakashi reached for his tea with the air of a man accustomed to living among difficult children and finding it entertaining.

Lord Daizen cleared his throat. “Young men are spirited everywhere, it seems.”

Naruto snorted into his rice.

Sakura resisted the urge to kick him under the table.

The meal ended soon after. Formalities were exchanged. They were dismissed to their rooms.

Sakura had barely slid the door shut behind her before Sasuke was there, silent as breath, one hand braced against the frame as he stepped inside.

She looked up at him. “You waited almost a whole minute. I’m impressed.”

“It was a long corridor.”

That made her smile.

Then his expression registered fully, and her amusement softened. He was angry, yes, but more than that he was tightly controlled in the way he only became when something had gotten under his skin badly enough to demand effort.

She moved closer and laid a hand against his chest. “I’m fine.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you look like that?”

“Because he looked at you like you were already his.”

Sakura’s smile disappeared.

There it was. The part that had made her skin crawl. Not attraction. Not even simple arrogance. Possession. A prince’s assumption that desire and entitlement were cousins.

She exhaled quietly. “I know.”

Sasuke’s hand came up to cover hers where it rested against his chest. “If he says anything to you alone, tell me.”

“Sasuke—”

“I’m serious.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll tell you.”

He relaxed by a fraction.

Sakura rose onto her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You were scary at dinner.”

“He was rude.”

“You were scary before he was rude.”

“He stared at you.”

She laughed softly. “People stare at me a lot outside the village.”

“I know.”

“And usually you don’t look ready to commit a felony.”

“That’s because most of them know how to stop.”

She put both arms around his neck. “Naruto’s right, you are predictable.”

His hands settled at her waist, thumbs brushing the fabric there. “And you’re too calm.”

“That’s because I know you’ve got me.”

Something in his face eased at that, the harshness smoothing from his mouth. He bent and kissed her properly then, slow and familiar and warm enough to quiet the last of the unease in her chest. Sakura melted into him automatically. Sasuke always kissed like he meant it, like affection was something precise and deliberate instead of careless. He held her as if she was cherished. As if this was obvious.

When they parted, his forehead rested briefly against hers.

“You sleep here,” he said.

Sakura blinked. “That wasn’t a request.”

“No.”

She laughed again. “Bossy.”

He glanced toward the corridor. “Not taking chances.”

There were very few situations in which Sakura would have objected to spending the night wrapped in Sasuke’s arms. This was not one of them.

“All right,” she said.

He gathered her pack without comment and carried it into his room.

Naruto saw them crossing the courtyard garden and only waved a rice cracker at them from his doorway. “Don’t be disgusting where I can hear it.”

Sakura, who had been feeling tender and soft and a little emotional, promptly turned red enough to combust.

Sasuke did not even break stride. “Then mind your business.”

“I hate both of you,” Naruto said cheerfully.

The next morning, the mission brief became clearer.

Team 7 had been hired to serve as temporary protection during a weeklong spring celebration attended by regional nobles, merchants, and officials. There had been threats made against Lord Daizen’s household by political rivals displeased with his growing influence at court. The work should have been straightforward: visible deterrence during public appearances, discreet patrols during banquets, escort duty during processions.

Straightforward, Sakura discovered, did not mean simple.

By the second day, Prince Reiji had manufactured no fewer than six excuses to place himself near her. He appeared while she checked a balcony for vantage points, offering to have guards assist her. He arrived in the courtyard while she sparred lightly with Naruto, praising her grace with such intensity that Naruto actually paused mid-swing to stare. He intercepted the team while they moved between the guest wing and the audience hall and requested that Sakura personally accompany his carriage later that afternoon because her presence would “honor the procession.”

Kakashi declined for her.

Reiji smiled as though indulgent toward a child. “Surely she can answer for herself.”

“She can,” Sakura said evenly, “and my answer is no, Your Highness.”

For a single instant, something unpleasant flashed beneath the polished charm.

Then it vanished. “A pity.”

Sasuke, standing half a step behind her, said nothing at all. That was somehow worse.

Later, when Team 7 finally got a moment alone on one of the estate’s outer walkways, Naruto threw his hands up. “Okay, I’m saying it. That guy is creepy.”

“Thank you for your insight,” Sakura deadpanned.

“No, seriously! At first I thought he was just one of those weird noble types who talks too fancy and stares because he doesn’t know how people work. But he’s definitely got something wrong with him.”

Kakashi nodded mildly. “Good assessment.”

Naruto looked offended. “I do good assessments all the time.”

“Treasure this one,” Sasuke said.

Naruto opened his mouth, clearly preparing an indignant retort, but Sakura caught his sleeve. “Naruto.”

He turned. Her expression must have said enough, because his annoyance drained quickly.

“You okay?” he asked, more serious.

Sakura hesitated. Team 7 was not bad at reading one another. They had simply gotten better lately, as if surviving enough things together had sanded down the awkward parts of honesty.

“No,” she said finally. “I don’t like how he looks at me.”

Naruto’s face hardened at once.

Kakashi’s eye lost its smile.

Sasuke went terrifyingly blank.

Naruto cracked his knuckles. “Cool. Great. Awesome. So I can punch a prince, right?”

“Not yet,” Kakashi said.

“Yet?”

“Let’s not sound excited, Naruto.”

“I’m not excited. I’m offended on Sakura’s behalf.”

Sakura smiled despite the knot in her stomach. “Thanks.”

Naruto folded his arms. “You don’t even have to thank me. I’m obviously on your side. Also Sasuke would kill me if I wasn’t.”

“That too,” Kakashi agreed.

Sasuke ignored them. “He won’t get near you alone.”

“Agreed,” Kakashi said. “From now on, no one wanders this estate solo. Even for patrol rotations, pair up.”

Naruto pointed at Sakura and Sasuke. “We all know who’s pairing up.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. “You say that like it’s new.”

“It is not,” Naruto said gloomily. “I’m the one who has to watch it.”

“Your burden is immense,” Kakashi said.

That evening brought the first banquet of the celebration.

Lanterns floated on the pond in the central garden, glowing gold against black water. Musicians played beneath a pavilion draped in gauze. Nobles moved through the grounds like a shifting garden of silk and jewels. Team 7 spread out according to plan, visible enough to deter trouble, unobtrusive enough not to offend.

Sakura remained near the main pavilion with Sasuke and Kakashi while Naruto circled the outer paths and rooftops. She wore her standard mission clothes rather than court dress, but even so she drew eyes. She could feel them pass over her face, her hair, the line of her posture. Murmurs followed in more than one language. A lady from a neighboring province told her she looked like a camellia in bloom. A merchant’s wife asked if pink hair was common in Konoha. An elderly diplomat told Kakashi his team was remarkably young and then spent the next ten minutes trying to discover whether Sakura was promised to any clan.

Sasuke’s chakra sharpened so fast Sakura nearly laughed.

Kakashi answered smoothly, “That would be private.”

The diplomat bowed off. Sasuke relaxed only after the man was fully gone.

“You’re impossible,” Sakura murmured.

“You’re being looked at again.”

“That’s not my fault.”

“I know.”

She glanced at him sideways. “Are you jealous?”

“Yes.”

The lack of hesitation stole her breath for a second. Sasuke did not blush, did not look away, did not pretend. He simply said it, cool and factual, as if admitting to weather.

Sakura felt warmth spread through her chest anyway.

Before she could answer, movement near the pavilion entrance caught her eye.

Prince Reiji.

He was dressed even more elaborately tonight, in deep green and white with a ceremonial sash. Several young courtiers trailed after him, laughing at something he had said. He ignored them all the moment he saw Sakura.

Of course he did.

He crossed the distance with perfect confidence, stopping just close enough to test boundaries without crossing them under witnesses. “Haruno-san. Uchiha-san.”

Sasuke said nothing.

Sakura inclined her head. “Your Highness.”

Reiji smiled at her and only her. “I had hoped you would attend. The evening is brighter for it.”

Sakura had learned by now that polite deflection did not discourage him. “We’re here to work.”

“A shame,” he said. “Such beauty ought not be wasted on vigilance.”

“You keep saying things like that,” Sasuke said quietly, “as if she exists for decoration.”

Several nearby conversations faltered.

Reiji turned his attention at last, smile thinning. “I speak in admiration.”

“You speak in assumptions.”

Sakura touched Sasuke’s wrist once, a silent reminder. Not because she disagreed. Because nobles were landmines wrapped in silk.

Reiji noticed the touch. His eyes flicked to Sasuke’s wrist beneath her fingers, then to her face. Something calculating settled into him.

“I would ask Haruno-san for a dance,” he said, “but I suspect you would object.”

“I would,” Sasuke said.

“Do you object on behalf of your village,” Reiji asked softly, “or for personal reasons?”

Every instinct Sakura had sharpened in the academy whispered danger.

Sasuke’s gaze did not waver. “Both.”

Reiji’s mouth curved. “How fortunate for her.”

He bowed to Sakura with elaborate grace and withdrew.

The conversation around them resumed, but quieter now. More observant. The air had shifted.

Kakashi exhaled very softly. “That could have gone worse.”

Naruto dropped from the roof beside them in a blur and snagged a pastry from a passing tray. “Did I miss something?”

“Prince Creepy tried to challenge Sasuke to a duel using flower language,” Sakura muttered.

Naruto shoved the pastry into his mouth whole. “Huh. Glad I missed it.”

The banquet ended without incident. Or rather, without physical incident.

The real trouble began the next morning.

A servant arrived at breakfast carrying a lacquered box.

“For Haruno Sakura-sama,” she said, kneeling.

Sakura stared at the box as though it might contain a snake. “From whom?”

The servant lowered her eyes. “His Highness Prince Reiji.”

Naruto made a noise between a choke and a laugh. Sasuke’s chopsticks snapped cleanly in his hand.

Kakashi accepted the box before Sakura could. He opened it.

Inside lay a hair ornament of worked silver and jade, shaped like trailing flowers. It was beautiful, expensive, and entirely inappropriate.

Beneath it sat a folded note.

Kakashi read it, then handed it to Sakura.

I have not seen moonlight captured so well in mortal form. Accept this token, and consider whether service in a greater household might better suit one such as yourself.

Sakura stared for three long seconds.

Then she folded the note again with crisp precision and set it back in the box. “I want to throw this in the pond.”

Naruto leaned across the table. “Can I throw it in the pond?”

“No,” Sakura and Sasuke said at once.

Naruto leaned back. “Rude.”

Kakashi closed the box. “We’ll return it.”

“With a kunai in it?” Naruto suggested.

“With restraint,” Kakashi said.

Sasuke set the broken chopsticks down carefully. “He thinks this is courtship.”

“No,” Sakura said, colder than she felt. “He thinks this is acquisition.”

Silence followed.

Kakashi studied her. “Do you want me to end the mission now and take us back to Konoha?”

Sakura considered it. The easy answer was yes. Leave. Refuse. Put distance between herself and that suffocating interest. But missions were not personal vacations, and her discomfort alone, unless it escalated, would not justify abandoning a contract of this scale. Also, something stubborn in her resisted the idea of being chased off by a prince who could not hear the word no.

“I want boundaries enforced,” she said. “If he ignores them again, then I want us gone.”

Kakashi nodded. “Reasonable.”

Sasuke looked at her for a moment, then inclined his head once. Agreement.

The gift was returned unopened in the steward’s presence. Sakura gave the refusal herself.

“Please inform His Highness that I cannot accept personal tokens. My duty here is professional.”

The steward looked faintly alarmed. “I will convey it.”

Whether he conveyed the exact words was anyone’s guess.

By afternoon, Reiji had escalated.

It happened during a public procession through the city’s central avenue. Lord Daizen’s household rode in lacquered carriages while guards and attendants walked alongside. Team 7 was positioned at intervals: Kakashi on the rooftops, Naruto ranging ahead, Sasuke and Sakura near the prince’s carriage because that was, unfortunately, where the security risk was judged highest.

Crowds lined the avenue, calling blessings and waving flower petals. Musicians led the procession. Children ran alongside until soldiers herded them back.

Sakura remained alert, scanning windows, rooftops, crowd flow.

Then the carriage curtain shifted.

“Haruno-san,” Reiji said from within.

Sakura did not turn fully. “Your Highness.”

“Walk closer.”

“No.”

The answer came instantly.

There was a pause. “I am asking, not commanding.”

“I still decline.”

The curtain moved again. “You insult me.”

Sakura kept her gaze on the crowd. “I have been clear.”

Reiji’s voice softened, which somehow made it worse. “Do you understand what I am offering you?”

Before Sakura could answer, Sasuke did.

“She doesn’t want it.”

Reiji leaned toward the open curtain, composure cracking at the edges. “This is not your concern, Uchiha.”

“It became my concern the first time she said no.”

The soldiers nearest them went very still. Several spectators noticed the tension, though not the words.

Reiji’s eyes flicked between them and landed on Sakura. “You are wasted in a mercenary life.”

The insult to shinobi slid past her. The entitlement did not.

“I am exactly where I choose to be,” Sakura said.

Something ugly flashed in his face then, brief but unmistakable. Not confusion. Not hurt. Offense that the object of his attention had the audacity to possess a will.

The curtain dropped. The carriage rolled on.

Sakura’s pulse was too fast.

Sasuke moved closer without comment until their shoulders nearly brushed as they walked. It was a subtle thing, almost invisible to anyone not looking for it, but his presence settled like armor.

“Thank you,” Sakura said under her breath.

His voice came back low. “You don’t thank me for that.”

Maybe she didn’t. Maybe protecting one another had become too old and natural for gratitude to cover it properly. Still, she looked at him, and something unspoken passed between them, steady as a handclasp.

The attack came an hour later.

Not from political rivals.

From kidnappers.

They burst from a shuttered warehouse near the avenue’s bend, dressed as common laborers until steel flashed from beneath their coats. Smoke bombs hit first, then wire traps, then a coordinated rush toward the noble carriages.

Team 7 moved instantly.

Kakashi dropped from the rooftops into the center of the street, chakra flaring. Naruto split into shadow clones that flooded the alley mouths and flanks. Sasuke drew a kunai and intercepted the first attacker before the man cleared the smoke. Sakura pivoted toward the nearest carriage, smashing through a wire trap and dragging a panicked attendant clear.

The fight was short and brutal.

These were not elite shinobi. They were hired blades with enough planning to be dangerous and nowhere near enough skill to survive contact with Team 7.

Sakura disabled two with precise strikes to the joints and one clean kick to the solar plexus that folded a man in half. Sasuke moved beside her in lethal flashes, every motion efficient. Naruto’s clones swarmed. Kakashi ended the rest.

Within minutes, the street was under control.

Lord Daizen’s guards scrambled belatedly to appear useful.

Sakura exhaled and turned toward the carriage she had been guarding—

—and froze.

The prince’s carriage door was open.

Empty.

“Sasuke.”

He saw it at once. “Naruto!”

“I know!” Naruto shouted from a rooftop. “I’m on it!”

Everything shifted. The attack had been a screen. Not for Lord Daizen. For Reiji.

Or worse.

Kakashi flashed to their side. “Status?”

“Prince missing,” Sasuke said.

Kakashi’s eye narrowed. “He was the target?”

Sakura stared at the empty carriage, instinct prickling in the back of her neck. No. Something was off. The timing. The pressure. The way those men had engaged everyone except—

One of the fallen attackers groaned.

Sakura was on him in a heartbeat, kunai at his throat. “Where is he?”

The man laughed wetly through broken teeth. “Not the prince.”

Ice slid down her spine.

“What?”

His grin widened, blood on his mouth. “The girl.”

Sasuke’s killing intent exploded so hard two nearby guards stumbled backward.

Sakura’s head snapped up.

Across the avenue, at the service lane where attendants and reserve horses had been waiting, three figures in dark clothes were hauling a struggling maid toward an unmarked cart.

No.

Not a maid.

A decoy.

And standing several steps away, face white with fury because the wrong girl had been taken, was Prince Reiji.

He had arranged it.

Everything narrowed.

Sakura moved first. Sasuke was beside her before the thought finished forming. Naruto’s clones hit the cart from above. Kakashi vanished and reappeared in front of the fleeing kidnappers, blocking the alley exit.

The men dropped the maid and ran.

Reiji did not.

He stood rooted in place, beautiful face ruined by anger and humiliation, as the plan he had engineered collapsed in front of him.

The maid—one of the palace servants, dressed in borrowed pink outer robes and a wig to resemble Sakura from a distance—sobbed where she had fallen.

Sakura went to her first. “Are you hurt?”

The maid shook her head frantically, crying.

Good. Good.

Sakura helped her sit up. Guards finally rushed in. Kakashi took over directing them.

Sasuke turned toward Reiji.

The prince had apparently recovered enough pride to lift his chin. “You misunderstand.”

Naruto made the loudest sound of disbelief Sakura had ever heard.

Kakashi’s voice became frighteningly polite. “Then by all means, explain.”

Reiji’s jaw tightened. “I was informed there were men in the city who intended to abduct Haruno-san to sell her to a rival household. I took measures to intervene discreetly.”

Sakura stared at him.

He could not possibly expect that to work.

“The discreet measure,” Sasuke said, each word clipped sharp, “being to stage her kidnapping yourself?”

Reiji’s gaze flashed. “I intended to place her under my protection.”

“There it is,” Naruto muttered.

Kakashi was no longer smiling at all. “Under your protection without her knowledge or consent.”

“A woman cannot always judge what is safest for herself—”

He got no further.

Sasuke crossed the distance in one blur and slammed him back against the wall of the alley hard enough to crack plaster. Gasps broke out from guards and servants alike. Reiji’s feet left the ground for an instant before Sasuke’s fist fisted in the front of his formal robes and pinned him there.

Every person present went very, very still.

Sakura had seen Sasuke angry before. She had seen him cold. She had seen him murderous in battle.

This was different.

This was personal in a way that stripped him down to the raw iron beneath all his control.

“You do not,” Sasuke said, voice low enough to be worse than shouting, “get to decide what happens to her.”

Reiji paled but still tried to salvage dignity. “Unhand me.”

Naruto muttered, “Bold strategy.”

Lord Daizen himself arrived then, flanked by frantic guards, and stopped dead at the sight of his nephew pinned to a wall by an Uchiha.

For one heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Daizen thundered, “Release him at once!”

Sasuke did not.

Kakashi stepped in before the situation detonated fully. “Lord Daizen, your nephew appears to have orchestrated an attempted abduction of my student.”

“An absurd accusation!”

“His hired men disagreed.”

Daizen’s eyes cut to Reiji, saw enough in his face, and understood.

The color drained from him.

Politics chased outrage across his features. The presence of witnesses. Foreign shinobi. The Uchiha heir. A public scandal involving the attempted seizure of a kunoichi from Konoha. The calculations were almost visible.

“Sasuke,” Sakura said softly.

He did not look away from Reiji. “He touches you and I’ll break his arm.”

The promise in his tone made several nearby guards reconsider their life choices.

Sakura rose and crossed to him. She rested her hand on his forearm. “Sasuke.”

That reached him.

His grip tightened once more, just enough to make Reiji flinch, then he released him.

Reiji stumbled. Lord Daizen’s guards caught him.

Silence stretched tight.

Then Kakashi said, very calm, “This contract is terminated.”

Daizen looked stricken. “Hatake-san, let us not be hasty—”

“Your household put my student in danger.”

“A misunderstanding—”

“No,” Sakura said.

Every eye turned to her.

She stood straight, chin lifted, hands steady at her sides. Her heart was beating hard, but anger held it in place. Clear. Sharp. Useful.

“No misunderstanding,” she said. “Your nephew ignored repeated refusals, sent gifts I did not accept, pressed for private access I denied, and then arranged to have me taken under the excuse of protection. I am a shinobi of Konohagakure. I am not something to be kept.”

The alley had gone so quiet that even the distant festival music sounded thin.

Reiji’s face went hot with shame or rage. Perhaps both.

Lord Daizen bowed.

Not the shallow courtesy of a host.

A real bow.

“My deepest apologies.”

It was too late for apologies to matter, but the gesture rippled through the witnesses nonetheless.

Kakashi inclined his head by a fraction. “We will be leaving immediately.”

Daizen swallowed. “Please allow me to provide an escort to the border.”

“No,” Kakashi said.

And that was that.

The estate became a storm of hurried packing, whispered orders, and brittle courtesies.

Naruto was livid on Sakura’s behalf in the loud, uncomplicated way only Naruto could manage. “I knew he was weird! I knew it! Creepy flower prince! Stupid silk-wearing—”

“Konoha representatives probably shouldn’t be heard calling foreign royalty names in the hallway,” Kakashi observed.

Naruto lowered his voice only slightly. “Stupid silk-wearing creep.”

Sakura sat on the edge of her futon to tie her pack, hands moving more carefully than usual. She was not shaking. Not exactly. But everything inside her still felt too sharp, as if the edges of the day had not settled into their proper shapes yet.

A knock sounded on the frame.

Not really a knock. More the brief courtesy Sasuke extended before entering rooms he had no intention of being denied.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“You should be resting,” Sakura said.

“I wanted to see you.”

Her throat tightened a little. “I’m right here.”

“I know.”

He crossed the room and crouched in front of her, gaze lifting to hers. Close enough that she could see the fine strain still held around his eyes. He had calmed. He had not cooled.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine for me,” he said.

Sakura laughed faintly. “Was I pretending?”

“A little.”

She looked down at her half-tied pack. “I hate that it scared me after. Not during. During I was just angry. But now I keep thinking what would have happened if the decoy hadn’t worked. If his men had gotten me into that cart.”

Sasuke’s hands came up, careful and warm around her wrists. Not restraining. Anchoring.

“They didn’t.”

“I know.”

“And they weren’t going to keep you.”

A tiny huff of humor escaped her. “That’s a lot of confidence.”

His expression turned almost offended. “Sakura.”

Right. Fair.

She let out a breath and leaned forward until her forehead rested against his shoulder. Sasuke folded his arms around her at once, settling her against him with the familiarity of many evenings like this. His hand slid slowly up and down her back once, twice.

“I hate him,” Sakura admitted into his shirt.

“I know.”

“I really wanted to hit him myself.”

“You still can if we pass him in the hall.”

That made her laugh for real, the sound muffled but helpless. “You’re awful.”

“I’m serious.”

She drew back enough to look at him. “You almost killed him.”

“I thought about it.”

“I know.”

No fear lived in that knowledge. Only the solemn weight of what it meant to be loved by someone like Sasuke. His temper was not loud. His devotion was not performative. But when something threatened what he held close, he became frightening with a thoroughness that left no room for doubt.

Sakura touched his face. “Thank you for stepping in.”

His eyes softened. “Always.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he said, “We should tell my family.”

She blinked. “About what happened?”

“And about us.”

Understanding hit a second later.

She stared at him. “Sasuke.”

“He’ll try to smooth this over. Daizen. Or the prince will. Or someone at court will decide the easiest answer is that there was confusion about your status.” Sasuke’s mouth hardened. “I’m not letting anyone imply you were available for negotiation.”

Sakura’s pulse gave one startled leap. “So your solution is…?”

“To make it public.”

Her face went warm. “Public how?”

His gaze did not waver. “That you’re mine. That I’m yours. That we’re engaged.”

Sakura stopped breathing for a second.

Then, absurdly, her first coherent thought was Naruto is going to be unbearable.

Her second was more dangerous.

Not horror. Not rejection. Not even true surprise. Because somewhere, beneath all the chaos of today, beneath the prince and the politics and the anger, there was a bright quiet place inside her that reacted to the word engaged not with fear, but with aching, impossible tenderness.

“Sasuke,” she said again, softer this time.

His hands tightened gently on her waist. “Not because I think you need protection through me. You know that, right?”

She nodded at once. “I know.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true anyway.”

Her eyes stung unexpectedly.

Oh.

There it was. The simple devastating core of him. Not strategy alone. Not damage control alone. Truth spoken with the same directness he used for everything that mattered.

Sakura swallowed. “You really want to announce that.”

“Yes.”

“We’re twelve.”

“We won’t marry until we’re older.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“Yes.”

She stared at him for one long heartbeat, then another, and saw no hesitation anywhere in him. Only certainty. Fierce, quiet certainty.

Something in her chest unfurled.

“All right,” she whispered.

Something shifted in his face then, gone soft and startled and so openly relieved that it made her want to kiss him and maybe cry a little.

“All right?” he repeated.

Sakura smiled, small and shaky and very real. “Yes, idiot. All right.”

He kissed her before she could say anything else, hands framing her face, all that contained intensity turning suddenly gentle. Sakura kissed him back with equal urgency, the fear and anger of the day washing out under warmth and familiarity and choice. This was choice. This was the whole point. Not being wanted by someone powerful enough to take. Being loved by someone who would ask, and mean the asking.

When they finally drew apart, Naruto’s voice echoed from the courtyard.

“ARE YOU TWO KISSING IN THERE BECAUSE THIS IS A REALLY BAD TIME TO BE KISSING IN THERE—”

Sakura groaned and buried her face in Sasuke’s shoulder.

Sasuke looked toward the door with deep contempt. “I’ll kill him instead.”

They left the Land of Clovers at dawn the next morning under a gray sky.

Lord Daizen did not appear to bid them farewell. Prince Reiji, thankfully, remained absent. A contingent of guards followed them as far as the outer gate, either from guilt or fear of how Konoha might report the incident.

Once the estate disappeared behind trees, Naruto stretched dramatically. “I never want to see another fancy person again.”

“That won’t be possible,” Kakashi said.

“Then I want to see less fancy people.”

“Also unlikely.”

Sakura walked between Naruto and Sasuke, breathing easier with every mile put between them and the capital. She had not realized how tightly wound she’d been until the city walls were gone. The road felt blessedly plain.

Naruto glanced sideways at her. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He studied her face, then nodded, satisfied. “Good. Because if not, I can still go back and prank the prince.”

Kakashi lifted a brow. “Prank?”

“Violently.”

Sakura laughed. “I’m okay, Naruto.”

“Good.” He stuffed his hands behind his head. “Sasuke was super scary yesterday.”

Sasuke gave him a flat look.

Naruto grinned. “Not complaining. Just saying. Prince Creepy’s ancestors probably felt that.”

“I’m sure the diplomatic report will phrase it more elegantly,” Kakashi said.

Naruto snorted. “I hope not.”

They made camp that night near a river crossing. Naruto built the fire with more enthusiasm than skill. Kakashi disappeared for a while and returned with fish. Sakura prepared them while Sasuke set perimeter tags. The ordinary rhythm of team travel soothed her better than anything else could have.

After dinner, with the fire crackling low and the dark gathered softly around them, Kakashi spoke without looking up from his tea.

“I sent a hawk ahead.”

Sakura’s chopsticks paused. “To the Hokage?”

“And another to the Uchiha compound.”

Naruto blinked. “Two reports?”

“The official report goes to the Hokage. The less official one goes to the family of the boy who nearly started an international incident.”

Sasuke remained unruffled. “Good.”

Naruto looked between them. “Wait. Why does the Uchiha clan need a report?”

Kakashi’s eye curved. “Ah. Right. There’s one more thing.”

Sakura suddenly found the fish very interesting.

Naruto stared. “Why are you both acting weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Sasuke said.

Naruto pointed at Sakura. “She is definitely acting weird.”

Sakura muttered, “I hate you.”

“Love you too,” Naruto said automatically. Then paused. Narrowed his eyes. “What happened?”

Kakashi, the traitor, set down his tea. “Sasuke and Sakura have decided to announce their engagement.”

The campfire popped.

Naruto’s jaw dropped so far it was a miracle it remained attached.

For exactly three seconds, silence reigned.

Then Naruto screamed.

Not in horror. In outrage on entirely different grounds.

“YOU MEAN I’VE BEEN PUTTING UP WITH YOU TWO BEING SICKENINGLY OBVIOUS FOR MONTHS AND NOW YOU’RE GETTING MORE OFFICIAL?”

Sakura covered her face.

Sasuke looked bored. “You’ll survive.”

“No, I won’t! This is a nightmare!”

Kakashi seemed delighted. “I think it’s sweet.”

“That’s because you’re old!” Naruto turned to Sakura. “Sakura-chan, tell me this is a prank.”

Sakura lowered her hands, unable to quite contain her smile. “Sorry, Naruto.”

He stared at her, betrayed. “You too?”

She laughed. “What does that mean, you too?”

“It means one of you should have had common sense!”

Sasuke put an arm around her shoulders and drew her against his side in the most unhelpful possible gesture.

Naruto gagged theatrically.

Sakura, now laughing too hard to defend herself, leaned into Sasuke anyway.

Kakashi sipped tea like a man at the theater. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks, Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura said.

Naruto pointed accusingly at Sasuke. “Did you ask properly?”

Sasuke stared at him.

Naruto folded his arms. “That’s a valid question.”

“I asked.”

“And?”

“And she said yes.”

Naruto squinted at Sakura. “Voluntarily?”

Sakura threw a twig at him.

He dodged, cackling. “Okay, okay! I’m happy! Kinda! Maybe! I just think it’s unfair that I have to be this single while the two of you keep acting like some gross married couple already.”

That broke whatever lingering tension remained. Even Sasuke’s mouth twitched.

By the time they reached Konoha two days later, the Uchiha clan was waiting.

Not all of them, obviously. But enough to turn the village gate into a minor spectacle.

Fugaku Uchiha stood with his arms folded in formal robes instead of patrol clothes, which was its own statement. Mikoto stood beside him looking calm in the outward way that always meant she was internally five steps ahead of everyone else. Itachi, still young but already carrying himself with eerie composure, waited at their side. Several other clan members lingered nearby with varying degrees of visible curiosity.

Naruto stopped dead. “Oh no.”

Sakura’s stomach swooped.

Sasuke, apparently, had not exaggerated.

Mikoto reached them first.

Not to Sasuke.

To Sakura.

Her expression softened the moment she saw her. “Are you all right?”

The kindness in the question nearly undid Sakura more than the prince ever had. She nodded quickly. “Yes, Mikoto-san.”

Mikoto touched her cheek, then looked her over with a mother’s thoroughness. Satisfied, she turned toward Kakashi. “Thank you for getting them home.”

Kakashi inclined his head. “Of course.”

Fugaku’s gaze moved to Sasuke. “Report.”

Sasuke gave it without embellishment. The harassment. The gifts. The staged kidnapping. The confrontation. Naruto interrupted twice to add increasingly offended commentary. Kakashi corrected only details of sequence. Sakura spoke when asked and no more.

The listening Uchiha grew colder by the minute.

When Sasuke finished, silence spread.

Fugaku’s face gave little away, but the air around him had changed. “And the engagement.”

Straight to it.

Sakura’s pulse sped.

Sasuke stepped closer to her. “I intend to marry Sakura when we’re of age.”

No hesitation. No apology.

The gathered clan members exchanged glances. Some surprised. Some not surprised at all.

Mikoto, to Sakura’s horror and secret delight, smiled immediately. “It’s about time.”

Sakura went red from collar to hairline.

Naruto made a strangled noise. “You knew?”

Mikoto looked amused. “Naruto-kun, Sasuke has been looking at Sakura-chan like she hung the moon since the academy.”

“It was that obvious?”

“To adults, yes.”

Kakashi coughed into his hand.

Naruto whirled. “YOU TOO?”

Kakashi’s eye smiled. “I had suspicions.”

“Itachi?” Naruto demanded.

Itachi regarded Sasuke, then Sakura. “I assumed.”

Naruto staggered back a step as if betrayed by civilization itself. “I cannot believe I’m the last to know everything all the time.”

“You are not,” Sakura said weakly.

“You’re right,” Naruto said, pointing at Sasuke. “Prince Creepy was definitely last.”

Fugaku held out a hand. Conversation stopped.

His gaze settled on Sakura then, measured and steady. For a moment she had the absurd feeling of being evaluated before a council of elders. Then his expression shifted, slight but unmistakable.

Acceptance.

“If this is your wish,” he said, “the clan will recognize it.”

Sakura blinked.

Just like that.

Mikoto took both of Sakura’s hands before she could recover. “Welcome,” she said warmly, as though Sakura had crossed some invisible threshold and been expected there all along. “Officially.”

The word made Sakura’s eyes sting again.

Naruto groaned toward the sky. “I’m surrounded by insane people.”

One of the older Uchiha women near the back clicked her tongue. “Hush. This is lovely.”

“It is not lovely for me,” Naruto muttered. “I have to witness it.”

Sasuke ignored him and looked at his father. “I want it public.”

Fugaku inclined his head once. “It will be.”

And because the Uchiha were apparently nothing if not terrifyingly efficient, public meant public.

By evening, word had spread through the clan compound. By the next morning, half of Konoha had heard that Haruno Sakura was formally promised to Uchiha Sasuke, with marriage intended once both reached legal age and suitable rank. By afternoon, the rest of the village had opinions.

Ino screamed.

That was less a rumor and more a historical certainty that traveled on the wind.

Sakura found herself standing in the Uchiha compound’s inner garden while Mikoto adjusted a silver hairpin in her hair. Nothing ostentatious. Just elegant. Familial. A quiet symbol before the small formal declaration Fugaku intended to make to select witnesses and clan elders.

“You don’t have to look so frightened,” Mikoto said gently.

“I’m not frightened,” Sakura lied.

Mikoto smiled. “Then why are your hands cold?”

Because this was too big. Because part of her still felt like the academy girl who had sat beside Ino and wondered if she was too loud, too ordinary, too much, too little. Because she was about to stand in front of the Uchiha clan and have them acknowledge her as Sasuke’s future in some official way, and there were no words large enough for that.

Mikoto finished with the hairpin and turned Sakura toward the polished bronze mirror.

The girl looking back at her was still Sakura. Pink hair, green eyes, determined mouth. But there was something different too. Not the pin. Not the borrowed formal outer robe. Something steadier.

Chosen, perhaps.

Not by a prince who wanted to possess. By a boy who loved her enough to put truth into the open and stand beside it.

A knock sounded. Mikoto’s smile warmed. “Come in.”

Sasuke entered, already dressed in dark clan formals that made him look somehow older and more himself at the same time. His gaze found Sakura immediately and stopped.

For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.

Then Mikoto made a satisfied sound and slipped toward the door. “I’ll leave you two alone for a minute.”

“Mikoto-san—” Sakura began, flustered.

The door had already shut.

Sasuke crossed the room slowly, like someone approaching a shrine or a battlefield or some third thing equally serious.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

Sakura laughed softly, because if she did not she might combust on the spot. “You say that all the time.”

“It keeps being true.”

She rolled her eyes in self-defense, but her face went warm anyway. “You clean up well too.”

His mouth tilted. He stopped in front of her, close enough that the formal layers of their sleeves brushed. “Nervous?”

“A little.”

He touched the silver pin in her hair lightly. “You don’t have to be.”

“That’s easy for you to say. This is your terrifying clan.”

“They won’t scare you.”

“They absolutely can.”

“Then they’ll answer to me.”

That drew a helpless smile from her. “Your solution to everything is intimidation.”

“No,” he said. “Some things are solved by kissing you.”

Sakura stared at him for half a beat. “That was smooth.”

“I know.”

She laughed and tugged him down by the collar for precisely that.

The kiss was brief only because footsteps sounded in the corridor a moment later, followed by Naruto’s dramatically suffering voice.

“I SWEAR IF I OPEN THIS DOOR AND YOU’RE KISSING AGAIN—”

“You’re not opening the door,” Sasuke called back.

“Good! I don’t want to!”

Sakura dissolved into laughter against Sasuke’s shoulder.

When they stepped into the clan hall a few minutes later, the gathered elders and witnesses turned as one. Fugaku stood at the front. Mikoto and Itachi to one side. Kakashi had come, to Sakura’s surprise and mortification, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Sakura’s nerves returned full force.

Then Sasuke’s hand found hers.

Steady. Warm. Certain.

She squeezed back.

Fugaku spoke first, formal and concise. He acknowledged the incident in the Land of Clovers without unnecessary detail. He stated that Haruno Sakura had conducted herself with honor and strength. He affirmed that any suggestion of her availability to foreign interests was false and offensive. And then, in the stillness that followed, he announced that by mutual wish and with clan recognition, Haruno Sakura and Uchiha Sasuke were formally promised to one another, to wed when they came of age and when circumstances allowed.

It should have felt overwhelming.

It did.

But it also felt strangely right.

Like a door opening onto a path that had been there underfoot longer than either of them had realized.

The elders accepted. Some with gravity. Some with visible approval. One elderly aunt kissed Sakura’s cheek and told her she had excellent taste. Mikoto hugged her. Itachi bowed with a solemnity that somehow contained affection. Kakashi congratulated them in the tone of a man delighted to have material for the rest of his life.

And Sasuke stayed beside her through all of it, calm as stone and bright-eyed in the subtle way only Sakura knew how to see.

Later, when the formalities finally ended and the compound quieted into evening, Sakura slipped out onto the engawa overlooking the garden for a moment alone.

Or what she thought would be alone.

Sasuke joined her almost immediately, carrying two cups of tea. He handed one over and sat beside her.

The sky above the compound was turning violet. Cicadas sang in the trees. From somewhere farther in, she could hear Naruto loudly telling someone that he deserved compensation for emotional damage.

Sakura leaned lightly against Sasuke’s shoulder. “Well.”

“Well,” he echoed.

“We’re engaged.”

“Yes.”

She smiled into her tea. “That still sounds ridiculous.”

“It sounds accurate.”

She looked up at him. “You really don’t do things halfway, do you?”

“No.”

“That prince picked the wrong girl to obsess over.”

A faint dangerous glint entered Sasuke’s eyes. “He picked the wrong girl because there was never any chance.”

Warmth spread through her, soft and full.

She set her tea aside and turned enough to face him properly. “Thank you,” she said.

He frowned a little. “Again?”

“Yes, again.”

“For what?”

“For not making this about ownership.” Her voice softened. “For making it about choosing each other instead.”

The hardness left his expression at once. “There was never going to be another way.”

Sakura believed him. Entirely.

She touched the sleeve of his formal robe, then the hand resting on his knee, threading their fingers together. “Good.”

He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, an old-fashioned gesture made startling only because it came from him, from Sasuke, who was rarely theatrical and never insincere.

In the fading light, with the compound around them and the future suddenly too real and too near to ignore, Sakura felt the last residue of the Land of Clovers finally fall away.

Let Prince Reiji stew in his own humiliation. Let foreign courts gossip. Let Konoha whisper. Let Naruto complain until he ran out of breath.

None of it mattered as much as this quiet certainty.

She had not been taken.

She had not been bartered.

She had not been kept.

She had been defended, listened to, believed, and then asked.

And her answer had been yes.

Sasuke shifted, resting his temple briefly against her hair. “You’re thinking too loudly.”

She snorted. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is with you.”

“What do you think I’m thinking, then?”

“That you’re tired.”

“That too.”

He considered her for a moment, then tugged gently until she moved with him, settling sideways against his chest. Sakura went willingly, fitting into the space as if built for it. His arm wrapped around her waist. The evening breeze moved through the garden, cool and sweet.

From somewhere behind them Naruto shouted, “I CAN STILL SEE YOU BEING SAPPY FROM HERE.”

Neither of them moved.

Sakura smiled into Sasuke’s shoulder. “He really is used to us.”

“He should be.”

“Think he’ll ever stop complaining?”

“No.”

“That’s fair.”

Silence stretched, easy and affectionate.

Then Sakura lifted her head just enough to murmur, “You know we’re going to have to survive years of people teasing us now.”

Sasuke’s hand traced once over the small of her back. “Let them.”

“And if some other foreign idiot decides he likes me?”

His eyes, dark as the deepening sky, met hers with quiet certainty. “Then they’ll hear the same thing everyone else will.”

“And what’s that?”

He leaned down until his forehead rested against hers, voice low and absolute.

“That Haruno Sakura is loved, promised, and entirely out of reach.”

Sakura’s breath caught, then escaped in a soft laugh, fond and helpless and full.

“Good answer,” she whispered.

“I know.”

And when she kissed him this time, slow beneath the first stars over Konoha, there was no fear left in it at all.