Fandom Redemption [Closed] [Graverobber141/arbus]

[arbus]

Suigetsu looked up — Sasuke‘s subtle hints deepy ingrained in his system after the time they spent together, and compared to back then, he seemed positively chilled now — and a new grin spread across his face. He liked to show off his teeth, and he knew he had a bedazzling smile, so he grinned hard and often. He was not exactly pleased with the outcome of his venture into summoning territory, but ever the optimist, he counted his blessings (having kept his life, which had been under the threat of being snuffed out by electrocution, chakra exhaution, blood loss from mutliple — theoretical — bite wounds and the not so slim chance of being skewered by Sasuke‘s sword for putting gross gooey stuff all over him). „I see why you like her“, he stated, and then made as if to stand, listening to Sasuke‘s next words with only one ear because he needed to get in some good, long rest to challenge Satoru for a spar and win (he had been looking forward to this for weeks, and he was greatly pleased that Satoru was here) when the Uchiha‘s words registered. He spluttered (add choking on his spit to the variety of ways he could have potentially kicked the bucket in the last two days) and swirled on the balls of his feet to stare at Sasuke.

Had he, that sneaky asshole, put him under a genjutsu? He certainly wouldn‘t put it past him, with those creep‘s eyes of his — so maybe Suigetsu was still lying on the soaked ground in the woods, or floating in the pool of water, bloated and probably about to being fried one more time ... for funsies.

„What did you just say?“, he hissed, like an accusation, as if he blamed Sasuke for saying something so absurdly out of character. The Prince of Gloom was supposed to sit in a corner and be, well, gloomy.

But before he could utter another word, there was a single, loud knock on the door — distinct and polite, bringing to mind nurses and hospitals and more gooey stuff — and after a pause, the pink-haired girl stuck her head in.

„Sasuke, are you awake? I need to — Suigetsu!“ Her eyes widened comically, but the fun was over when a frown came over her features like a particularly nasty thundecloud. „You are not supposed to leave that tank!“

 

[Graverobber141]

Was it that obvious? That even Suigetsu, whose interactions with him and Sakura included getting fried (twice), being unconscious in a tank, and now this little conversation, Suigetsu, who had an emotional depth consisting of varying levels of how much he wanted to eat a person, was able to point out that he liked Sakura. Sasuke, cool, refined, and collected Sasuke, who had been smoothly navigating this talk with with his usual degree of aloofness, now felt like a child. Red spreading up his neck from a mixture of indignation and embarrassment, bringing color to his pale cheeks, he stammered over himself, having lost any sense of eloquence, "I don't--It's none of your--," before finally settling on a rather blunt and sharp, "Shut up."

He was rather glad for the interruption, because it meant he didn't have to deal with this conversation anymore, nor address Suigetsu's confrontation about his change of character. Listening to the swordsman get scolded, Sasuke gave him a look that suggested he was vastly enjoying this moment, and lifted his hand to shoo him out he door, stating, "The adults need to talk, Suigetsu."

Paying no more mind to the former Taka member, letting him rest in the bed of his own making (and feeling schadenfreude at his predicament, because now he wasn't the one raising her ire with his resistance to rest), Sasuke slipped from the bed, carefully sliding the blanket off, as to not wake Ari. Depositing the ruined covering, thanks to Suigetsu's flippant dripping of his goo, by the fire to allow it to dry, he retrieved another from his backpack in the corner, and spread it over the little fox, tucking him in warmly. He seemed to be a heavy sleeper, at least.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Sasuke left room for Sakura, and patted the empty place next to him once in offering.

 

[arbus]

Rude. Suigetsu knew when he wasn't welcome anymore, and despite the way Sasuke was treating him, he was a responsible adult, all grown up and fully capable of understanding when people required privacy. So, being the grown adult he was, he made kissing faces over Sakura's shoulder as she passed him, pursing his lips and forming silent smooches at Sasuke.

Sakura turned her head, that scowl still on her face (it was not the same one she had worn when consulting Karin in front of his tank; it rather reminded him of his mother dearest, that old hag). He dropped his grimaces just in time, his face smoothing into a patent grin. "I'm off, I'm off", he reassured her, hands up in the air in a defensive gesture, "back into the tank."

"Karin is in the kitchen", Sakura informed him. For the life of him, he could not tell if she was caring or cruel, by the impassive look on her face. "Please ask her to take your vitals and give you some of my herbal infusion."

"Of course", he lied; the hell he would do to give that red-headed crazy-woman another reason to tease him. He was considering how to avoid confronting her ever again as not to be exposed to the surely endless and absolutely unfounded laughter as he left the room. Sakura stood for a moment, then turned to look at Sasuke. "I wondered where he had gone", she said, nodding at the kitsune's sleeping form. She produced the Bingo book from behind her back and gave a little wave. "I want to show you something."

She did not heed his invitation, but walked over to get herself the chair from the fire place and placed it in front of the bed. Sitting down, she smoothed her skirt -- she had changed into her own clothes again, as she did not expect them to stay much longer -- and held the book out to him. Their knees were almost touching, and she was sitting very straight, looking very earnest. "I've marked the page. It's Satoru's entry."

 

[Graverobber141]

Sasuke glared at Suigetsu, a murderous look within his narrowed eyes that said he would be happy to send him back to that tank with another chidori, watching as the swordsman finally left the room. Turning his attention fully onto Sakura, his face softening considerably, he had been expecting another conversation entirely, had already lined up an apology for his behavior earlier--he shouldn't have tried to pressure her into anything, and he would respect any boundaries she needed--but her offering of the Bingo Book brought those thoughts to a halt.

He felt something only describable as despair sink within his stomach, twisting and turning, as loud and devastating as a mirror violently shattering into pieces. In that moment he knew, but with his gaze dropping, because he couldn't meet her own, he accepted the book, flipping it open to examine the marked page.

A memory rose to the surface of his mind: a scarred, amber-eyed man standing before him with a chokuto held out challengingly, his voice low and rough as he growled, 'It's about time someone put you in your place, boy.' Holding his hand over the page, he turned his palm over, and for a moment he could feel the sensation of warm blood dripping between his fingers.

He closed his eyes.

The first time he had lost every ounce of himself, when he had given himself over completely to darkness and hatred, this was what he had left behind in his wake, destruction and pain, and this was what he reaped. A debt to be paid. Yet the price...So many lives shattered, the shrapnel never-ending, ever piercing.

A thrumming heartbeat later, he raised his charcoal gaze, eyes soft and filled with sorrow, regret, guilt, to take in her emerald one.

I'm always hurting you, aren't I?

She was dressed as if she was planning to leave, but this was his responsibility, and he would not run from it. Running would perhaps push Satoru over the edge, and that would endanger those he cared about, those that didn't need to pay for his mistakes. And he wouldn't abandon the child--that was what Satoru was, he knew: a lost boy screaming at the world for taking from him someone he held so close--because he understood all too well the path he was walking on like a thin line in the sand. Yet words wouldn't do anything, not from him, and he doubted from anyone else.

"I'm staying, Sakura," he finally said softly, though his resolve was firm. Closing the book quietly, he reached out to take her hand, and squeezed it affectionately, tracing his thumb along the grove of her own. "And I'm going to give him what he thinks he needs." He hesitated, dropping his eyes once more to examine their intertwined fingers. "If it goes wrong... I want you to lay the blame at my feet to avoid a diplomatic incident, and convince Naruto to talk to the Kazekage on Satoru's behalf, so he can have another chance."

 

[arbus]

While he studied the entry, she watched him. Judging by his expression, he must be having similar thoughts as her. "I have written a letter to Kakashi-sensei. Asking if he can find out anything; maybe dig up information on any of Satoru's old team members. I thought we could use one of your summons for delivery." She produced the folded piece of paper from one of her pockets and displayed it on the palm of her hand, like an offering. If Satoru had lost someone in the Fourth War -- and everything in his behavior indicated a grave loss; Sakura kept thinking of the battered hitai-ate -- it was important for them to find out whom he had lost, and as many details as possible. Because perhaps his animosity towards Sasuke was just based on plain bad chemistry, but Sasuke was a prominent figure of the War, infamous even before that, and if Satoru blamed him for his --

"What?"

Her eyes held his, then drifted to their intertwined fingers, a gesture that had become almost natural between them and that still gave her a little jolt of electricity every time it occurred. Her eyebrows drifted together in confusion, and an uncertain, confused smile played around her lips, abashed that she was, so very obviously, not catching up with his train of thought. Sasuke must have formed a plan already, one she was to slow to understand. "What are you talking about?"

 

[Graverobber141]

Withdrawing his hand reluctantly from hers, Sasuke reached for the bingo book, flipping it open to Satoru's entry to point out one line referring to who his sensei had been: Killed In Action--Five Kage Summit. "The Land of Iron," he explained, keeping his eyes low. "I killed his sensei." Perhaps it was a jump to assume he was here for revenge; Suigetsu had confirmed knowing the swordsman, quite gleefully, and if Satoru really wanted Sasuke dead, wouldn't he have taken him out during that first meeting, when he had the element of surprise and Sasuke had been at his weakest? But that look Satoru had given him. It gnawed at his conscious, a primal and vicious warning.

"Worse case scenario," he continued, rubbing two fingers into his forehead. "If he is here to kill me, I will not deny him the fight." Could it be avoided, he wondered, if his gut was true? "I'll try to wear him down and incapacitate him, should it come to that, but if I'm not able..." He lifted his gaze to seek out her own. "If he manages to kill me, you have to minimize the fallout." After a pause, he stated once more, as if for reassurance, "Worse case scenario."

But hadn't he been proven wrong rather recently, jumping to conclusions? Throwing a quick look over his shoulder at the fox that was hidden underneath the blanket on his bed, Sasuke exhaled, turned his attention back onto Sakura, and reached to take the letter from her, squeezing her hand as their palms met, before he withdrew the parchment from her fingers. "I'll send out a hawk to Kakashi; it's best if we gather all the information we can."

 

[arbus]

A sensation like something heavy plummeting in her stomach as she stared at the words in the Bingo book, at Sasuke‘s finger pointing them out to her, at the hand that — I have killed his sensei.

If the ground beneath her feet had opened up and she were falling, she wouldn’t possibly feel dizzier than she did now, from shock, from a knowledge she had carried in her, dragged into the light by its hair, kicking and screaming but true, nonetheless: Sasuke was a murderer, someone who had once gone crazy with hatred, a boy-man ready to annihilate even his own people.

Something was clicking into place — a glance, a twitch of Satoru’s mouth, the sadness it betrayed.

And then Sasuke‘s words registering slowly, as if through a haze, and all she was hearing, all that was left was the sudden, undebatable understanding of sacrifice.

„No!“ She grabbed for his hand before he could retrieve it, clutching it between her own, and she was searching for something in his eyes with her own pleading gaze. „No! You‘re too weak, you can‘t.“

 

[Graverobber141]

Sasuke felt his heart breaking, an agonizing ache in his chest that made it hard to breathe, looking into her bright eyes, his own dark ones filled with sorrow and regret. This pain that burrowed within himself, so raw, was not born of fear--he would give his life without hesitance to correct his mistakes--but of the thought of hurting her, unintentionally, making her a victim of circumstances and his sins. No, he couldn't stand that thought, and he felt utterly stupid, to have thought he could change his reality, to have dragged her out here on this journey, only to witness something that would shatter her.

This distance between them was unbearable, an echoing chasm, and he had always been a man to be grounded in reality, but he found himself wishing he had a second chance.

He pried his hand away from hers, but only so that he could lean forward, wrap his arm around her shoulders, and pull her into an embrace, resting his cheek against her head, where he muttered a useless apology, "I'm sorry, Sakura, that I'm always hurting you."

Because he had to do this. He couldn't walk away. Many logical reasons came to mind, but most and foremost, he had caused this situation, and it was his responsibility to try to fix it, even if meant sacrificing himself, everything the future could hold, so that this stranger he had wronged had a chance to know some semblance of peace.

 

[arbus]

For a moment, that first few seconds, she felt a deceptive relief bubble up in her — the delusion of him backing down, agreeing with her, as she wrapped her arms around his neck in return. And then, with her stupid brain so slow to process even the simplest facts, it hit her that he was not yielding to her objections at all.

It was a wreched pain that teared in her chest, then, one she had only once before felt in this intensity; it was heartbreak, surely, and not just in that aloof, methaphorical sense of bad romance novels. She felt it, in every fibre of her being, with her upper body pressed flush against his and she trembled, once and violently, before the anger hit, hard, a crushing wave much like Suigetsu‘s, and she stemmed her hands against his chest and freed herself from him.

Gone was all rationality, all understanding and empathetic insight. There was just one thought prevailing: You are doing this because you want to be punished. And an utterly selfish feeling of I won‘t allow that. I won‘t live through that again.

That day under the bridge, as the people closest to her swore to fight to the death.

There was white noise in her ears.

„No“, she said, nostrils flared and breathing so heavy she was almost panting. „No, Sasuke, no. Please.“

 

[Graverobber141]

With her hands pushing against his chest, he let go of her, even if it took every ounce of his willpower to do so, because he desperately wanted to hold onto her, and backed away against the bed once more. His eyes dropped, and he didn't know what to say, what he could say, in the face of her palpable anger, anger reached for to hide pain. Nothing would make it better. Nothing could make it better. There was just this vile reality, harsh and cold, that fed the distance between them.

"I can't run from this," he tried to explain softly. "He'll follow, and others will be put in danger, and with the tension between all the nations... I won't allow that." His voice was uneven, tethering on the edge of cracking. "It's not his fault. He's angry, confused, hurting, and lashing out. I did that to him, Sakura, and I have to take responsibility for it."

Those words tasted like bitter ash on his tongue, and felt just as useless. Setting his jaw, he bowed his head, hair drifting over his face, as he tried so hard to hold back the sadness that wanted to break free from his eyes. He held his hand out before him, that sensation of blood filling his palm so vivid, and slowly curled his fingers inward. "I don't want this, but what I want..."

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to picture that possibility of a future he was afraid to let himself consider: a home, his few friends, perhaps even a family, and...happiness. Naruto bugging him constantly, Kakashi checking in, in that subtle way of his, and Sakura...

"...Isn't important."

He felt it, the single tear that broke free, running down his cheek, dripping from his chin, and landing onto his thumb.

 

[arbus]

Next, a wave of nausea, and she had to swallow around the restriction in her throat and for a second there, she thought she was going to be sick. She wanted to allow her anger to take over, wanted to hit him and scream and stomp her foot on the floor like a nasty child, but she didn‘t. Instead, she forced herself to breath slowly. Her heart was fluttering in her chest like a panicky humming bird. But if she stayed calm, if she focused, she would surely be able to make him see reason.

She wasn‘t aware of that strange haze that had come over her, her emotional turmoil working like blinders on her otherwise perceptive mind, and she ignored his pain, had to ignore it in order to keep her mind on the only thing that was important.

In a minute, he would agree with her, and nothing of what she feared so, so much would come to pass.

„Sasuke“, she began and her voice was trembling with the excitement of adrenaline that was suddenly pushed through her system, „listen. If you fight him now, he will kill you. You are not well — your body has suffered a great deal in the last few days. You are far from your usual strength. Let’s have Kakashi-sensei send some Konoha shinobi and restrain him, and then deal with this later. Okay?“ She smiled the faded watercolor version of a smile, faint and wobbly and clinging to hope through a thin film of fear that made the world strangely blurry.

 

[Graverobber141]

He hated this, he hated seeing her like this, he hated doing this to her, and that damning thought kept rearing itself in his head, that desperate wish: if only...if only he had the chance to make things different...What a useless, lost plea to the universe. But underneath that a second thought entangled with her words: He didn't kill me when he had the chance to do so in the kitchen; it would have been easy, quick, but he didn't take the opportunity.

He reached out to tenderly take hold of her fingertips, the gesture light, so that she could easily and effortlessly pull away should she desire to do so. "We would be putting the fragile peace we fought a war to build at risk, Sakura." He squeezed her fingers gently, reassuringly, before offering, "But I think he's waiting for me to get better...He had amble opportunities to take my life already--when he first showed up, when I've been sleeping--but he hasn't acted yet." A pause followed that he spent examining the back of her hand, thumb running along her own. "I want to help him, but talking won't do anything; I can only serve as the confrontation."

Yet in the face of her pain and fear, his resolve was breaking, because he wanted so desperately to save her from the torment he knew all too well, and guilt ate away inside at him, because he knew it was selfish, but either way he turned, whatever path he went down, he was hurting someone, someone undeserving was paying for the ghosts of his past.

Finally, he lifted his eyes to search out her own. "I'll summon a hawk for you, Sakura, and you can do whatever you feel like you need to do with it, send whatever message to whoever you want, but I'm asking you not to. He needs help, and cornering him is just going to feed the hatred he has. We'd be making an enemy."

 

[arbus]

He is an enemy, she thought, and looked down at the perfect dome of salty water his tear had created. She lifted her own thumb in return, and like a caress she wiped it away before withdrawing from him completlely. She gave a small, curt nod, but did not allow their eyes to meet again. This wasn‘t her decision, not her fight. Once again, she would stand on the sidelines, helpless towards the things to come. A spectator to Sasuke‘s life. Useless.

„I won‘t interfere“, she said, stood, without looking at him. It was gnawing away at her, being so powerless in the face of his past, his crimes ... He had made his decision, she could tell by the firmness in his voice, the sad look of his eyes. What was there to do but to be there, to gather her strength in — what did he call it — the worst case scenario.

She understood suddenly that this would forever be between them — his regret, his need to pay for what he had done. And it was a need she understood, it made him the man he was, the man she had come to love so many years ago. It was this, this special, tiny, sparcling orb of goodness in him that made him act that way, and she knew she would think less of him if he ran. She didn‘t like it — she hated it — but she admired him all the more for it.

„Do what you have to do, Sasuke“, she said in a soft, quiet voice. Not broken but hoarse, trembling. „And while you do, I‘ll stay close. But I won‘t stand in your way.“

 

[Graverobber141]

"You're not in my way. You've never been in my way, but I was too consumed to realize it," Sasuke muttered, curling his fingers into his palm to resist from reaching out to her again, because his body was compelling him to do so, in that same way he moved to protect her from harm without thinking. If he stood where she did, if their situations were reversed, he doubted he would be able to restrain himself, that he wouldn't have already drawn his blade to the threat. Did she even realize how much stronger she was than him? "And I know it's selfish...but I'm glad that you're here with me."

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting his emotions settle, gaining control of himself, before he opened them once more. Wiping his cheek clean, he stood from the bed, and took a cautious step forward, raising two of his fingers to press into her forehead. A sad, small smile spreading across his lips, he quietly stated, "That came from my brother. When I was little, he'd use it as...an apology of sorts, when he didn't have time to spend with me, but wanted me to know that he cared deeply."

He paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face, before dropping his hand to his side. "I'm sorry that I created this distance between us, that I keep causing you pain, and that whatever waits for us in the future is bound to be difficult, but I do care for you, Sakura. Deeply. And if I could take all this hurt from you, I would gladly bear it without a second thought."

 

[arbus]

She wondered what he meant when he used the term future, because she now realized he was a being of the past — maybe it was the curse of his eyes to only be able to look back.

She had always known the gesture, this soft touch of her forehead, to be an intimate one, something deeply personal, ingrained with a meaning hidden to her, to anyone but him. She had had vague ideas about its origin, but now that she knew, she could not help but to find it eery. She was touched by the thought that he would share such a thing with her, of all people, knew it was an urge for him to share this, to keep the memory of his brother alive, and with it the unconditional love he must have felt when he had been a boy but — but ...

Sakura raised her hand and closed her fingers around his wrist, which was much more fragile than she had imagined it to be. He was so easy to read, all of a sudden. Not long ago she had not been able to see him; now she did. It hurts, she thought, her lips pulled into a tight line. There is nothing but hurt.

„We‘re friends“, she said, reaffirming the statement with a steady gaze. „There is no need for you to take any of my hurt, it‘s all my own and I‘ll bear it, just as you bear yours.“

Her fingers trailed along the skin of his lower arm, until she cupped his elbow, taking a step closer in doing so. „I always wished we could be more than friends“, she confessed, and it fell easily from her numb lips. She was aching with the knowledge that if Satoru wouldn‘t kill him, somebody else eventually would. If he kept his eyes on the past, his mind set on the need to cleanse himself from his sins like this.

Don‘t you realize what you just did, Sasuke? She studied his face, those features she had always admired from far away that were suddenly close, accessible. She had always dreamt of a moment like this, of intimacy like this, but she hadn‘t known it would feel this way. Heavy, burdened with the pain of his past. Don‘t you see how you‘re repeating your brother‘s mistakes?

„I need to know“, she started, still looking into his dark eyes, still angry but calm now, almost serene, „what you would do if Satoru asked for your life as price for your crimes. Would you give it to him freely, without a fight?“

 

[Graverobber141]

Sasuke simply held her gaze for a few heartbeats, aware of how close she was, of how her palm rested against his arm, and he remained so very still out of fear of carelessly overstepping boundaries, which he seemed so intent to do today, even as her confession, confusing because he was finding her so hard to read, echoed within his mind. During that silence, he mulled over her question, discovering that the answer wasn't so easy, and a major contribution to the difficulty came from his struggle to address those feelings within himself, his practical inability to convey them to others; he was so very and painstakingly new to this, and it wasn't a conscious belief, but making himself so vulnerable still felt like a weakness.

"I know it wouldn't solve anything," he admitted at last, voice as soft as his gaze, "That it would only cause more suffering all around, even for him. No, I wouldn't go quietly. But I wouldn't fight to kill him either, and with his skill level, if he's intent on ending my life, that puts me at a significant disadvantage. I recognize and accept it as a possibility." He paused, fighting the urge to look away, forcing himself to keep eye contact, staring into that endless green ocean he found so easy to become lost in, and almost as a slip, he was speaking before he even realized what exactly was falling from his lips, "I'm not afraid of dying, but the thought of losing someone close to me, again..."

It was a confession that came out of nowhere, and he closed his eyes for only a moment, to redirect himself, before giving her the rest of the answer she needed, "I don't think he actually--" He searched for the word to describe it, didn't find it, and with a frustrated sigh, settled on something to continue, "--wants, is capable of, doing it. And if directly confronted with the chance, perhaps he'll realize the pain he's running from. I know it's incredibly risky, but all our other options will mostly likely send him over the edge, and that's excluding the political fallout we have to navigate around."

 

[arbus]

Perhaps was a chance she wasn‘t willing to take; but she knew he would recommence his path no matter her beliefs, her wants, and she had sworn never again to give up on him. She raised her free hand to cup his cheek. She understood. His fear of loosing the people close to him, she felt it too, but maybe his was deeper, cut with sharper edges because of his past, because of his brother and the spilled blood of his entire clan.

It was this that made the next step easier. It was necessary, probably for them both, the continuation of a thought held yesterday. She slipped both her arms around him, hands flat against his shoulder blades as she pressed her cheek into his chest and stood in the embrace, for a minute that became four or five — it was a long time and no time at all.

„I‘ve realized something“, she said, her voice muffled by his clothes, „and I want to tell you now, even though it‘s selfish.“ She stroked his back, once, a small gentle touch. „I think what you‘re trying to do is the right thing“, she confessed, glad for the opportunity to hide her face, „and I want to be here for you, if you need me. But I can only do what you ask, what you need of me, as a friend. Not as ... that other thing I wanted to be for you, because it would drive me insane, to watch you on the brink of death over and over again ...“

It all was so clear to her now. So easy; what had held her back all those long years, what had rendered her incapable to act on his behalf, to be as strong and good as Naruto had been for him, were her feelings — born out of selfishness, a fear for loss, for doing the wrong thing and driving him away completely, even though he had been gone by then, anyway. What Sasuke needed of her was strength, and not love because love made her egoistical, stupid, inflexible.

And this other thing: The thought of loving someone, being with someone in that way and having to watch them die by their own volition. Unbearable. She was not strong enough for it.

„So if you‘ll have me“, she mumbled, suddenly afraid of his rejection, of having misread his behavior towards her, of making a fool out of herself — too deep ran the wounds of staying unacknowledged by him for such a long time — „I‘ll promise to stay by your side, as a friend, and as long as you want me to.“

 

[Graverobber141]

Sasuke's arm moved of its own accord to wrap around her, palm pressed against her back, holding her tight against him. The embrace was somehow calming and hurtful at the same time; a glimpse into what could have been a beginning, but was an actually an ending. That eternity that passed with only their breathing and heartbeats, that felt both unbearably too long and too short, he spent thinking those stupid thoughts, the damning what-ifs, of evenings spent with a reunited Team Seven at Ichiraku's ramen stand, of afternoons competing with Naruto in some daily, dumb challenge of rivalry, and trying to figure out a way to mess with Kakashi, Hokage or not, and of mornings spent waking up in an embrace, her as something more by his side...

He couldn't understand why it felt so distant, this thing that was holding him back, a belief so ingrained in him it seemed to be part of his very being. He couldn't understand why he found it so difficult, to just let go. He couldn't understand how he was supposed to deal with all these things--guilt, regret, loss, pain--twisting inside him, because no one had ever bothered to teach him how, or maybe he just hadn't bothered listening. But he could understand her need, because even now, if something were to happen to her...He didn't know what he would do, and that was terrifying.

"I understand," he replied, after a moment, his voice quiet and soft, afraid that if he allowed it to be any louder it would betray him. "And I'll always want you by my side, even if it's just as a friend." Even if it was painful: a constant reminder of what he couldn't have, because of the damning block within himself. And then, in a moment of selfishness, he pressed his chin against the top of her head, halfway closing his eyes as he declared, "It's always been you, Sakura, and will always be you. What I feel for you will never change."

An agonizing pause. He breathed in her scent, took in how she felt pressed against him. "I wish I could be the man you need me to be, but..." His mouth twitched, fighting off a sad laugh he wanted to bark at his own incompetence, "...the truth is I just don't know how." Beginning to withdraw, he pressed his lips against her forehead in a soft kiss, his own gesture of affection, and then he was pulling away from her, afraid that if he stayed too long in that embrace his resolve would crumble.

 

[arbus]

The sun had not yet risen, but Sakura was already so tired, so exhausted she wished she could crawl under her blanket and shut out the world, and the emotions that teared at her like hungry wolves. The fact was, however, that this had just been the beginning of what felt already like one of the longest days of her life, and even though she had just gone through the emotional equivalent of a shredder, she needed to stay sharp now. So she took a step back, allowing the new distance between them to settle and take hold. The fire had burned low; without the heat of his body to provide her with warmth, she felt a chill run down her spine.

She avoided his eyes, not yet ready to confront this new reality fully. Instead, she stared at her feet as she asked: „What will you do now?“

She thought of Satoru, a danger so close to them and as of yet none-the-wiser about their new insights, wondered if he was still asleep and if she should have choosen another course of action. But even if she had realized what it all meant, by a plain remark in the Bingo book, she doubted if she had it in her to confront him on her own, or worse, kill him in cold blood.

Sasuke seemed to suddenly have gained an understanding, even a sort of empathetic fondness for Satoru he didn‘t formerly have. A change borne out of guilt, most likely, but he was not the only one that did not want Satoru to walk that path — and his words the other night, all falling into place like pieces of a puzzle she had not quiet known she had been mulling over.

 

[Graverobber141]

Sasuke forced his fingers to curl inward, to bunch against the fabric of his shirt, so that he could resist the urge to reach out for her, because she needed these boundaries, no matter how much he wanted to cross them, to damn the whole world and just be with her. How painful it was, a deep, strangling ache in his chest that made it hard to breathe, to stand here across from her, such a short distance away that felt like an endless abyss, see how she was unable to meet his gaze, and have those shadows of a thought plague his mind: what if...

Swallowing, his eyes drifted to the dying fire, taking in the orange glow of the embers. "He doesn't know that we know his true intentions yet. We should use this time to get some rest. We can break the facade in the morning." He realized how incredibly tired he was then, exhausted to his very bones, and how tired he had been all along; the kind of emotional fatigue that built up over years, that crept into the crevices of his very being.

He was so very, very tired.

He was silent for a moment, soaking in that tiredness, with a second realization floating underneath the surface of his conscious, quiet but exerting: he wanted so desperately to finally quit fighting.

And he came a decision, a futile, childish want to solve this without anymore pain or bloodshed, even though he knew that was an impossibility. Someone would have to give something. "Then, though I doubt it will go anywhere, I'm going to try to talk to him."

 

[arbus]

Sakura was ashamed even to admit it to herself, but she felt relief at his words. She shared his estimation, that they were safe to return to their beds for the night, but thinking beyond it, to the morning and the confrontation — to the moment in which she would once again watch Sasuke putting his life on the line ...

„Alright. I‘ll prepare breakfast for you in the morning.“ She was at the door already, and found it strange to leave it at that. Everything in her urged her to argue, to fight and, if necessary, scream or beg or both to please not do this, and if so, to heal first and not put himself at such a laughable risk. At the end of the day, nothing would change, though, so she closed the door gently behind herself and walked away. Sasuke would not die from this; surely this was ridiculous thought.

How could someone holding that amount of power be threatened by a simple shinobi?

Why, though, why was she so nervous?

Sleep, she knew, would not come to her, but silence and solitude were ample substitutes for a mind reeling. She made sure to avoid the kitchen, from where she could hear the voices of Karin and Suigetsu, snapping at each other, and instead returned to her bed where, after a moment in which she thought about giving in and have a crying fit, she sat with her back against the cold stone wall instead, closed her eyes, and focused.

Back in Sasuke‘s sickroom, the spot where Ari had slept so peacefully was now empty, the little bulge where the blanket had been thrown over him still deceptively intact. His paws moved quickly and quietly over the leaves stiff with frost, the first, friendly sign of the approaching winter. His fur glistened preternaturally in the waning moon‘s light, and with his snout on the floor he followed the scent of the swordsman, nothing more than a spectre flitting through the underbrush.

 

[Graverobber141]

A small shelter was made by tying a cloth to two trees, overhanging a bedroll to help shield from the wind. The breeze, while gentle, was vivid, and though Satoru didn't believe in such things, sitting with his back against a trunk, listening to the stream of water flowing nearby and the crackling of the fire at his side, whose flames danced across his pale face, he wondered if perhaps it was Takeshi reaching out from that other side of his. Letting his lids drift half-shut, he could almost imagine that the rustling of his hair was caused by that calloused hand, could almost hear that snort of a laugh that held humor only the most trained of ears were able to pick out. Nights like these, underneath the stars, so close to the world in its purity, its simplest form, Satoru found himself missing him the most.

The quiet, stern man who often seemed carved from stone, his change of expressions so subtle they were almost nonexistent, always had an answer, right or wrong, had always been able to make a decision. He lived by his code, and his sacrifice, one that Satoru still didn't quite fully understand. Takeshi had been a soldier, a warrior, a product of war, a man who had sacrificed happiness to protect his village, and because of that, he had deserved so much more than ending up on the wrong end of a blade.

His hand tightened into a fist around the blade of the sword in his lap, and a line of blood bubbled upon his palm, dripping down the metal.

Satoru wondered what had gone through his sensei's mind in those moments before he made a tough call, and wished he had that resolve.

He knew what he was going to do, what he had to do, but...Her confession ran through his head like radio static, bits and pieces breaking through the wall he had constructed to keep himself from consciously thinking about it, and guilt settled into the crevices. How did a man like Uchiha Sasuke inspire love in such people? Superficially, he wanted to scoff and claim it was through manipulation, but something told him it was a lot more complicated than that; people were hardly simple, after all. Yet whatever influence her words had over him were drowned out by the fact that, had he still been alive, Takeshi would have been the one he would have turned to for guidance, and the old warrior would have listened over a shogi board.

That had been taken from him.

Setting his jaw, Satoru turned his attention back to the chokuto he held, wiping the blade down with oil like he had been taught.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, as if speaking to the wind.

 

[arbus]

A beautiful night, on the brink of turning into morning but not yet, not quiet -- the sun still slept behind the mountain range, and a cool breeze ruffled fur and then downy hair that shimmered white in the otherworldly silver light. Naked feet padded over frozen grass over frozen earth and stopped on the hard, cold surface of rock. The body of a boy invisible against the backdrop of the forest, and downstream, across the river on the other side of the shore, a fire burned bright and distinct and fed the idea whirling in Ari's head.

His mother tried to teach him to be wise, but his instincts to be cunning, and so he leapt into the icy water. His throat produced a scream of helplessness, though it was cut short as the burning coldness squeezed his lungs shut. The splash was hardly distinguishable from the roar of the nearby waterfall, but he kicked himself to the surface and produced a squeaky squeal. The dot of light that was the camp fire grew ever larger, and fast -- he had underestimated the pull of the water, the stream a mighty force against his vulnerable human's body. The cold enveloped him like the thousand-year-old friend it was, but he could not miss the chance, had to make himself heard, and he trashed against the current, a small figure out in the middle of the broad river, drowning.

"Help!", he yelled when his face broke through the water's surface once more. "Help me!"

 

[Graverobber141]

Satoru's ears perked at the first cry for help, and his muscles coiled, his mind cleared, and for a split moment he sat motionless, listening and taking in. By the second cry, he was moving, sword sheathed at his side, following the sound of the pleas and splashing water. He saw the boy's form rushing in the river, a small, bobbing body fighting against the current, and he didn't have time to think about the oddity, or question his presence out here, seemingly alone, just before morning. He just acted.

His fingers were already reaching into his weapons pouch, quickly and dexterously tying wires to a few kunai, as he followed down the river, moving with his natural speed. With a few flicks of his wrist, he threw the weapons at nearby trees, in a formation to help support his weight, before he jumped over the rushing water, one hand holding onto the wire, the other reaching out to grab the boy. Once he had a hold of him, he tossed him unceremoniously onto dry ground, swinging on the wire to follow suit, sandals digging into frosted grass as he landed as gracefully as a cat; the whole ordeal had happened in a matter of seconds, and could've been missed in the blink of a eyes.

Looking down at the kid with a slightly annoyed expression (he had never been fond of children, or anyone he was required to 'watch his language around' as one of his teammates had often demanded), Satoru sighed, reached out to pick up the boy by the scruff of his shirt, and started to cart him off near the fire; forming a one-handed seal, he fanned the flames with wind to make them higher, to provide more warmth, as he planted the boy in front of them.

"Undress before you freeze to death," He stated, meandering over to his belongings to retrieve a long-sleeved shirt that should do the trick, along with his thick blanket, both items which he tossed toward the boy.

 

[arbus]

It all happened to fast Ari did not quiet know what happened, or how, but he felt a force pull at him, upwards and out of the water. Then he was flying through the air and hitting the ground, hard, his back scraping over the frozen earth and he tumbled. He came to a halt lying on his back, his body convulsing with (none-too-real) trembles he knew humans were feeling when dunked in icy water. Sasuke's predicament from a few days ago served as a prime example, and he made his teeth clatter as he was so roughly disposed by the fire. The stink of Satoru (his scent raised Ari's hackles and he could barely keep himself from baring his teeth) wafted around him, around everything -- from the bedstead to the tent to the logs of fire. This man was Sasuke's enemy, and Ari did not care that he was small and one-tailed, he would defend Sasuke from any harm. Heavy cloth, thrown in his direction, was catching him by surprise -- okay, he needed to work on his reflexes -- and he pulled them from his head. Slowly, he stood, making sure his knees trembled accordingly, as he slipped out of the worn yukata and into the long-sleeved, stinking shirt offered to him.

"Th-thank y-you, mister", he mumbled, and the cough that followed and spurted spit and water over the ground was all too real. He did not mind the cold, but he minded the wetness, which was a miserable and completely superfluous state of being. He dropped his drenched clothes carelessly and shook himself, so that droplets of ice water flew in every which direction. A side glance told him that Satoru was yet too far away for an attack -- he would heed the man's own advice, making sure to go for the throat as soon as he saw a chance -- so he stooped low near the fire once again, covering himself in the blanket as if he were desperate for some warmth, scooting closer to the flames which were high and impressive and altogether cozy. He shivered some more, eyes remaining on the man while he made himself small and harmless in the big, stinky blanket.