Chapter Text
Standing at the peak of a rocky hill near Adakite’s boarder, surrounded by clear skies and fresh mountain air, Sasuke approached the giant, avian beast towering before him.
Placing his hand on the mighty hawk’s beak, he dipped his head in a reverent bow.
Sakura took a tentative step towards them, tugging her new brown cloak more tightly around herself as she too lowered her head, graciously. “Thank you for your kindness, Garuda-sama.”
Sasuke did not call upon his hawk summon often, having offered it absolute freedom after the war had ended. But, as a testament to the strength of their bond, Garuda had agreed to maintain the summoning contract for urgent matters, beyond the capacity of a regular messenger hawk.
Apparently, his loyalty extended to Sakura’s needs too, having agreed to personally deliver her completed grant application to Konoha. While the task was well-within a regular hawk’s skillset, Garuda could guarantee her application’s safe passage and speedy arrival like no other could.
Sakura’s growing debt to the magnificent bird was not lost on her. After all, if it weren’t for him, she never would have reached Gaara in time, who was the sole reason her application had a real fighting chance.
And now, with the application having been reviewed by Sasuke, Laidon, Talako, and herself, countless times, it was as good as it was going to get.
A musical hum rumbled through the chasm of Garuda’s beak, his eyelids sweeping back and forth horizontally over his piercing, amber eyes, acknowledging Sakura’s thankful gesture.
Sasuke closed his eyes and raised his arm, forming hand signs to call his chakra.
His genjutsu shimmered into effect and Garuda vanished.
Then, a vicious gust of wind signaled that the hawk had taken flight, propelled skyward by his powerful legs and wings, concealed by Sasuke’s invisibility illusion to cover his tracks as he traveled.
Sakura shielded her face from the whirl of dust and debris and squinted to the horizon, where she imagined Garuda starting his journey through the tufts of clouds, past Adakite’s mountains, and onwards to the rolling hills and forests beyond them.
And, with him, secured to his leg, the fate of her clinic.
The fate of her career.
The fate of her life.
All of which were now airborne, soaring away, out of her hands.
She’d included with her application a short note addressed to Ino and Tsunade, requesting they contact her the moment they got word of the hospital board’s decision. Whatever it may be.
Sakura blinked away the moisture in her eyes, chalking it up to the winds and bright sunlight.
“He’s never failed me,” Sasuke said, cutting through her racing thoughts.
He’d apparently sensed her inner turmoil.
Sakura didn’t doubt his claim, though it wasn’t Garuda’s reliability she was concerned about.
She plastered on a half-smile nonetheless.
“You get along with animals, don’t you?” she asked, recalling a certain field of kittens he’d conjured up for her in an eye exam.
He considered her question as they began their descent down the rocky hill. “I prefer their company to most people,” he answered seriously.
Sakura smirked. She didn’t doubt that claim either.
Despite her effort to steer her thoughts to lighthearted domains, though, that helplessness lingered, taking root, heavier and heavier the further they descended, further from the mountain peak, further from her fate – now surrendered to the skies.
**
“Congratulations!” Talako exclaimed and raising her glass in a toast.
Laidon mirrored the gesture, smiling at their guests. “To think we could be celebrating a historical moment in modern medicine, right here in our apartment!” he beamed.
Sakura’s stomach twisted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she chuckled nervously.
She felt Sasuke’s eyes land on her face, but didn’t dare meet them, lest she falter in her put-together charade.
Laidon shook his head, disbelievingly. “The reviewers would be stupid to not award the grant to someone like you,” he asserted.
Sakura very nearly corrected him, because things like prestige mattered little to Konoha’s ruthless hospital board, but she held her tongue as not to sour the mood.
“Either way, this means you can finally relax and enjoy your stay in Adakite, right?” he added, eyebrows raised.
Sakura nodded and clinked his glass.
Yes. At least, I’ll try.
“Now, please dig in while it’s hot,” Talako instructed and gesturing towards the steaming pot of stew in the middle of the table, as she packed away the glucometer she’d used for her blood sugar test.
There was something rather homey about Laidon and Talako’s apartment, with its assortment of well-worn furniture, candles and knick-knacks, and collections of picture frames of varying sizes and finishes. Though, Sakura suspected the reminders of home had more to do with the stacks of textbooks, research papers, and medical tools.
This was, indeed, the home of health care professionals.
The meal itself was wonderfully savoury and soothing, in contrast to the chilly weather outside. Sakura felt especially cozy now that she and Sasuke were back in their usual outfits, freshly cleaned thanks to their new friends’ hospitality.
Sakura had picked up a few new items earlier that day – changes of clothes for camping and lounging, and a cloak (having lost her last one in their recent battle). Even so, nothing made her feel more at ease than her own durable, battle-ready attire.
The conversation over dinner was largely dominated by Talako and Laidon venting about their fast-approaching wedding, now mere days away. Between coordinating with local florists and bakers and photographers and other vendors, packing for Talako’s bachelorette trip commencing the next day, and sorting out how they’d get Laidon’s mother to the wedding in time, who lived alone a short ways from town, it was clear they were overwhelmed.
Talako rubbed her forehead, tiredly. “I’m sure all the stress will be worth it, but…” Her eyes flitted to Sakura. “I don’t mean to scare you, of course, if you were hoping for big wedding yourself one day.”
Sakura swallowed an untimely urge to laugh. “Oh, probably not,” she admitted.
Nowadays, with her life engrossed in ninja adventures, travelling, and grant writing, she was certainly no closer to picturing herself going through the motions of such traditional milestones.
At another time in her life, she might have had a different answer, though, perhaps as a product of her parents and friends and society telling her what she should want.
But, if she was really honest with herself, her fantasies had never been of weddings.
They’d really only been of a person.
Who was, incidentally, sitting to her right, quietly focused on his food.
And if her life had shaped up to be an unconventional one, it didn’t hold a candle to his. She’d be surprised if marriage had ever even crossed his mind once in his life.
“Hm,” Laidon mused. “Well, is there a lucky guy back home?”
Talako shot him a seething glare. “Don’t pry!” she scolded.
But the daring man went on anyways. “Because I know someone who’s right here in this town who might be – hey!”
The table jostled, sending a set of chopsticks clattering to the floor.
Laidon turned to Sasuke, who, to Sakura’s surprise, was also glaring at him and shaking his head in annoyance; an expression typically reserved for a certain blonde friend of theirs.
Wait… Did Sasuke just kick him?
Talako rounded on her fiancé. “I swear, if you get yourself hurt this close to the wedding, I’ll kill you,” she fumed.
“Hey, I’m not the one who–”
“I don’t care. You started it,” she shot back. “And Sasuke’s saved our lives and our bank account, so he can do whatever he wants.”
Sasuke leaned back, eyes closed. “Thank you,” he replied with just a trace of smugness.
Meanwhile, Sakura was no less lost as she glanced between the three of them and took in the distantly reminiscent scene.
Sasuke apparently had a tendency to attract pestering Naruto-like friends wherever he wet.
And there was Talako, trying to uphold the peace between them, with an obvious slant to take Sasuke’s side. It was rather clear which member of Team Seven she most resembled.
Then, that left Sakura, feeling lost by their antics, utterly exhausted, and…
Oh no…
I’m the Kakashi.
**
It was nightfall by the time they left Laidon and Talako’s apartment, with cloaks drawn tight and bellies full, passing warm street lamps evenly spaced along the forest-lined path back into town.
Despite the darkness, the skies were clear, the air was crisp, and all traces of wind were cut by the surrounding trees’ wide, grooved trunks and thick foliage.
No wind. No risk of rain. A perfect night for a fire, Sakura noted, feeling a pull towards the darkness beyond the wall of trees.
It was a thought unlikely to have crossed her mind before this adventure began, when she’d been accustomed to spending her nights at her apartment, the occasional hotel, overnight at the hospital, or at…
The clinic.
She shuffled to a halt as that nagging unsettlement clawed back to the surface, spearing through her chest.
Would the life she’d left behind even be there for her when this journey ended?
Her work back in Konoha may be depleting and isolating, but at the same time, it anchored her. The clinic in particular was a piece of the world she’d carved out all on her own, and not in anyone else’s shadow.
But now that its fate was out of her hands, she felt cut loose, ungrounded, like her life, her future, wasn’t truly hers.
This wasn’t a feeling that sat well with her – too many times in the past she’d watched her life pass her by, while others shielded her or told her who she should be, or what she couldn’t do – her peers, her parents…
Herself.
No, she was done with that feeling; the simmering in her own helplessness.
Eyes wild and searching, Sakura turned back to the trees.
“You’re worried about your application.”
From a few paces away, Sasuke was observing her cautiously, hand tucked in his pocket beneath his black cloak.
Instead of answering him, Sakura said, “I’m going to make a fire.”
He blinked. “What?”
But Sakura had already strayed from the path, slipped past the treeline, and began padding through the crunchy leaves, roots, and stones blanketing the forest floor, through a soundscape of crickets chirping, leaves rustling, and nightbirds cooing.
Before long, the surrounding trees were washed up by the darkness, as she reached the edge of the street lamps’ ranges.
Promptly, she unsealed a portable lantern from a scroll stowed in her weapon pouch and drew a pack of matches.
Sasuke, who’d ended up following her, read her intentions and reached for the lantern, expecting to ignite it with Fire release chakra like he always did, but Sakura raised a hand to stop him. He stilled.
Then, with the swift strike of a match, she lit the lantern and carried on with the beacon outstretched to light her way.
She ignored Sasuke’s questioning glances as he quietly kept pace.
It was unclear just how much time had passed when she finally selected her spot – a modest clearing with just the jumble of stones, loose sticks, and branches she needed.
Sakura set down the lantern to illuminate the area while she got to work. As expected, being a seasoned fire builder who had largely monopolized the task around camp, Sasuke got to work and reached for a stone, to form the fire pit’s parameter.
But, Sakura shook her head. “Wait. I’ve got it.”
He paused, raised his eyebrows, but lamented and stepped back uncertainly.
It didn’t take long for Sakura to assemble the fire pit just how she wanted, her skills having improved over the weeks of observing and supporting Sasuke with the craft.
Then came time for the fire itself.
Sakura crouched before the bed of carefully placed logs and kindling, struck a fresh match…
And, with a hiss, the flame fizzled and vanished when it made contact with the nearest branch.
She frowned.
It’s a little damp… Might not catch easily.
Not deterred, Sakura drew another and tried again.
But the outcome was the same.
On her fifth attempt, a small flame quivered on a sliver of bark, only to fade as a gentle, measly breeze swept past.
Her heart sank.
Quietly, Sasuke approached and crouched beside her.
On instinct, Sakura bristled, blinking through the moisture in her eyes, bracing for him to tell her that her efforts were pointless, to let him help.
Instead, he said, “Use Fire release.”
Sakura fumbled the pack of matches.
What?
“You know I can’t,” she muttered, a little irritated he was picking at her glaring shortcoming, at least, compared to him.
But Sasuke shrugged. “Have you tried?”
She shot him a disbelieving look.
It’s not that easy. The Uchiha are built for Fire. But the rest of us…
“I don’t have an affinity for Fire,” she countered.
With his gaze on the cold, unlit pile of branches, he corrected, “You never had an affinity for anything.”
Sakura fell silent as she turned Sasuke’s words over in her head – pointed, harsh, and yet…
He was right.
Sakura came from a civilian family, born with no special power-ups, no real chakra affinities, no inherited talents.
And yet, she was now a master of Earth release. And Yin release. And was among the most proficient medical ninjutsu users the world had ever seen.
Each and every one of those skills she’d learned from scratch and honed on her own.
Through raw stubborn determination.
Perhaps sensing he had her attention, Sasuke eased himself beside her and began to explain the mechanics of Fire, while she listened skeptically, yet, curiously.
In ways, he explained, Fire was the opposite to Earth, at least, in how it materialized. Earth drew from and gave shape and movement to matter in the world around them, and was moulded in a steady and controlled fashion by its wielder.
Fire, on the other hand, was kneaded inside the body and gave form to something that didn’t exist. And when it was expelled, it came forth in a wild, forceful burst, after which the element took on a life of its own.
“I’d say it’s more like Yin release,” he mused, his eyes flitting to the seal on her forehead.
“Really?”
He nodded. “It’s more about imagination. And chakra control, to mould and tame it.”
He cast her a meaningful look as a tentative shiver of excitement crept over her skin.
Yin release. Chakra control. Those were the bread and butter of Sakura’s skillset.
Maybe I’ve actually got a shot at this…
Sasuke stood and she followed him.
Next, he walked through the breathwork, the timing, the hand signs, the muscle movements to cultivate the surge of power required to spark Fire in her chakra.
“It’s… painful at first,” he cautioned. “And not just if you get burned. Don’t overdo it.”
Sakura nodded. I wouldn’t doubt that. After all, brewing fire inside of a human body wasn’t exactly a function most organs were equipped for – except, perhaps, in an Uchiha’s case.
Emboldened by the challenge and having memorized every detail of Sasuke’s instructions, Sakura removed her cloak and planted her feet in a steady stance, grounded, and faced the fire pit. “I’m ready to try,” she claimed, and raising her hands to replicate the pattern of signs Sasuke had described.
The instant her palms came together in the final sign – Tiger – with her hands laced and index fingers pressed together, it was like an invisible lock clicked open.
Suddenly, Sakura’s gut was swirling with a teeming, dangerous charge of energy unlike any she’d felt before.
She released a breath, her lips lifting with exhilaration.
Here we go.
The wild chakra swirled, fighting for its natural instinct to spark, to spread. Using her will, Sakura wrestled to contain it, to carve a path for it past her stomach, her lungs, following the motions just as Sasuke had described. Then, as the chakra surfaced, growing wilder as it raged in her windpipe, Sakura took the deepest inhale she could.
And, released, so sharply that her chest ached in protest, her lungs and throat burning, throbbing with hot, searing pain.
She gasped as pinpricks of heat appeared on her lips and specs of light swam in and out of her vision.
A shower of sparks.
Damn it. Not quite…
Sakura hunched over, gripping her thighs as she caught her breath and the turbulent Fire snuffed out, redistributing through Sakura’s chakra circuits, resuming its usual temperate constitution.
“Your form’s good.”
She glanced up through her heaving to find Sasuke watching her, eyebrows raised and Sharingan lit, likely for a better view of her chakra during the Fire-making. “Just needs more effort,” he added.
Sakura gaped at him. “More effort?” she gasped. She was beginning to appreciate the utterly exhausting level of precision and strength needed to harness this chakra nature.
“Itachi told me once that when you think you’re giving it one hundred percent of your effort, you’re probably closer to five.”
Sakura released a slow exhale.
Pushing past your limits was the very essence of a certain Legendary Sanin’s training methods. Yes, Sakura was quite acquainted with that approach to mastering new skills.
Nothing accelerated the medical ninjutsu learning process like healing your own broken bones, after all.
Sakura smirked. “He was a good teacher, huh?”
Sasuke nodded, his own lips quirking. “He was.”
She squared up the fire pit once more.
“It takes time to build the endurance, though,” he added. “So if you’re tired, rest tonight and try again tomorrow.”
But Sakura ignored him.
No. Tonight, sparks weren’t enough.
And this time, she knew just what sensations were coming and how to prepare for them.
Her body might not be built for Fire, but it was built for resilience.
This time, while Sakura’s hands ran through the signs to call her chakra, she coated her abdominal muscles, her lungs, her throat, with impervious medical chakra, fortifying them against the forthcoming corrosive swell of power.
Then, like she was shaping it with her bare hands, Sakura reined in every last shard of the whirling, straining chakra as it searched to spark, moulding it into a delicate stream, taking control.
When she inhaled, the wild energy pressed hard against her medical chakra barrier, testing its limits to no avail, building and building, charging and strengthening… And when it came time for release, it had no where to go but the precise channel Sakura had constructed for it.
Sakura blew out with all the force she could.
Then she slammed her eyes shut, recoiling from the sudden flash of light and onslaught of heat engulfing her face.
She stepped back, bringing her hands to her searing cheeks, and fought to catch her breath.
But then, she glimpsed the budding glow, the shimmering, wriggling tongue of light, clinging to a twig protruding from the pit.
A flame.
Sakura froze.
Sasuke acted quickly, reaching for a branch and nudging at the kindling, urging Sakura’s flame to grow, to catch, and, within moments, her flame had multiplied, cascading and sizzling over the web of leaves and twigs, wrapping around the logs, forming a base, claiming the fire pit as its own.
Sakura released a shaky breath.
I made… Fire.
It was only when Sasuke’s arm slipped around her shoulders that she realized her legs were buckling.
“I told you,” he said simply as his iris faded to black and he guided her onto the ground, atop a bed of leaves and soft earth.
Only then did Sakura finally lift her hands from her face, finding them damp with hot tears.
I made Fire.
“You should heal that before it gets worse.”
Sakura blinked. “Heal?” She brought her fingertips back to her cheeks and flinched at the stark reminder of their throbbing sting, the snips of hot pain pricking across her lips, her cheeks, her jaw. Burns.
Sasuke released her and gripped the branch again to tend the building fire, giving Sakura some space as she soothed the tender, swollen skin with a cooling film of medical chakra.
Her breathing slowed as they sat in silence, focused on their respective tasks to a backdrop of calming night sounds; leaves rustling, insects chirping, and now, Sakura’s fire crackling.
Just as the final patch of Sakura’s blistered skin smoothed over, Sasuke wedged the branch between two stones in the fire pit’s parameter and leaned back more comfortably on Sakura’s right, bending one knee. “My mother would bandage my face after Fire training,” he said quietly, warmth flickering in his eyes. “The more you practice, the easier it gets to control the flame’s release, away from your face.”
Sakura chuckled softly. “This training must be brutal without medical ninjutsu.”
He nodded. “Most Uchiha have scars from it.”
He paused, his eyes lowering slightly.
“Or, when they were still… Most Uchiha had scars,” he corrected quietly. “Just me now.”
Sakura’s gaze shifted to him, the fire’s warm glow illuminating the sharp lines of his profile and dancing in his dark eyes as the warmth faded from them.
His scars must be quite fine, barely-discernible to the naked eye. Sakura had never noticed them before.
She offered him a watery smile. Then, before she could think better of it, she stumbled out, “Maybe next time, I’ll leave behind some scars.”
Sasuke turned towards her, eyebrow raised.
Wait… Ugh, why did I say that?
Heat bloomed in Sakura’s face that had nothing to do with the burns or the fire.
While she’d intended the comment as a gesture of commitment to mastering the craft and of solidarity, of not wanting him to be alone with his scars, perhaps it was an insensitive thing to say, about such a delicate topic no less.
Like that sort of gesture would ever compensate for the gravity of his loss.
Thoroughly embarrassed, Sakura cleared her throat and placed her fists on her folded legs. “Sorry. If that was weird, forget I said it,” she mumbled, hurriedly, and searching for a change in topic while her heartrate thudded in her ears. “Um… Anyways, thanks for agreeing to this tonight.”
She could feel Sasuke’s eyes on her but kept her gaze averted. “I didn’t,” he said. “You lured me here.”
She relaxed slightly at the hint of teasing in his tone. At least, he didn’t seem upset by her comment about the scars.
Sakura’s lips lifted. “I didn’t even need genjutsu to do it, either.”
Sasuke shook his head and returned his gaze to the flames. As he reached for the branch again, he said, “That would have been easier to resist.”
She laughed softly, a quip on the tip of her tongue.
But then, the weight of Sasuke’s words settled in.
Genjutsu would be easier to resist than…
Her head began to spin, her mind suddenly swimming with memories of recent days, of recent nights, the held hands and gazes, the forehead tap promises, the moment they’d shared in that tree…
It was hard to say what pulled Sakura to do what she did next.
Perhaps it was the lingering adrenaline, or remnants of that blazing Fire release chakra. Or maybe she was just tired of waiting for her life to unfold.
Sakura reached for Sasuke’s opposite shoulder, tugged him around to face her, and kissed him.
The moment was brief, fleeting, amounting to nothing but a quick, resolute peck. Though, Sakura might have savoured the moment longer if Sasuke hadn’t dropped the branch and startled her back.
Their eyes locked from mere inches away, a mutual surprise passing between them, the warm pressure hanging on Sakura’s lips, her chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath.
Did I really just…?
But before her doubts had the chance to surface, before she lost her nerve, Sasuke lifted his hand to her face, his thumb sweeping over her cheek and tracing her lips as his eyes lowered to them.
Time stood still as they shifted closer in tandem, their hips touching, noses brushing, mouths grazing, and finally, carefully, their lips pressing together, deep and slow.
Sasuke sighed through his nose, his relief so devastatingly palpable that it sent a funnel of tingling sparks through Sakura’s chest, her limbs, her belly.
Their mouths moved, curiously, cautiously, caressing each others lips with their own, setting Sakura’s nerves on fire as they investigated different angles and gentle pressures.
Sakura thread her fingers through Sasuke’s hair and brought the other hand to his face, discovering the hardly-discernible hairline grooves that marked his skin in faint criss-crossing patterns there, just above his jawline. She traced them, adoringly, with her fingertips, and Sasuke’s hand slipped beneath her cloak, running over her waist, her back, scooping her in closer, while Sakura’s stomach flipped from the blazing friction, through the thin fishnet layer covering her midsection.
Losing herself, Sakura’s hands roamed, from his face to his shoulders, his chest, heat building and the taste of smoke lingering on her breath. Their lips pressed together more firmly, more urgently while the years and years of aching and yearning and longing took form, channeled through each burning touch, their breathing more hurried, hotter, Sakura’s chakra blazing, swirling beneath her skin…
A sharp snap sounded through the campsite.
They jerked apart, jumpy at the abrupt re-immersion into the world around them.
At least the disruption was easy to spot.
Frozen in place, they blinked towards their feet and found that Sasuke’s dropped branch had become a conduit for Sakura’s fire to climb into the grass, where some sparks and small flames had formed, sizzling past the boundaries of the fire pit.
Sasuke let out an irritated exhale and Sakura, a breathless laugh.
Chest heaving, Sakura turned back to him, only then realizing their current position, with her arms now strewn around Sasuke’s shoulders and a leg hooked over his, having nearly climbed into his lap in the disorienting heat of it all. Sasuke’s arm had slid further up her back, under her cropped shirt, his fingers pressed between her shoulder blades.
Sakura’s face burned as they carefully detangled their limbs and she shot to her feet.
Hastily, she kicked the branch back into the pit and stamped out the rogue flames, her heart thundering, her head spinning with disbelief, and adrenaline, and desire, and her belly swirling with…
Fire.
Somehow, she found her voice.
“I want to try again,” she breathed.
From his seated position, Sasuke stared at her, looking rather disheveled, with his face flushed, lips parted, and eyebrows furrowed.
Then, his expression softened with understanding. He stood.
Eyes glinting with fervor, Sasuke reached for her hand. “I have an idea.”
Sakura nodded, curled her fingers through his, and let him lead her, past the firepit and towards the darkness of the surrounding forest, the air growing colder, crisper, with each step onward.
At the very edge of the firelight’s reach, they came upon a shimmering, glowing ball in the forest floor – a reflection of the moon.
They were near the shore of a small pool of water – utterly still and undisturbed, without a ripple in sight.
Sakura cast Sasuke a questioning look.
“My first fireball was over water,” he explained as he guided her into position, facing it squarely.
She met his gaze in the moonlight, understanding that this was more than just a safer place to expel flames – over a surface that wouldn’t catch – but there was also a symbolism to it, for him.
This time, as Sakura worked through the motions, the hand signs, the chakra moulding, the breathwork, which were growing familiar, a fraction more automatic, while tapping into that churning energy, still brimming, still hot, as it chased up her throat, and even before it reached her lips, she knew, this time, that something was different.
She heaved a strong breath, intense enough to crush her own lungs if not for her medical chakra’s protective armour, and then, there was heat, there was smoke, a sting on her cheeks, and then, a flash of revolving yellow light, reflected in the water’s surface.
The ball of fire, barely larger than her fist, tight and swirling, disappeared nearly as quickly as it had come.
But… it had lasted just long enough for Sakura to notice it.
She stilled.
Something’s off.
Her elation fizzled out, the pains on her face fading out of focus.
Sharingan lit, Sasuke touched her arm affectionately, his lips lifting.
He hadn’t noticed yet.
“Sakura, you—”
She turned to him, wide-eyed, and his smile dropped.
“What?” he asked.
“I thought I saw something,” she whispered, her gaze returning to the water, squinting through the darkness.
Sasuke’s eyes narrowed as he took a protective step forward.
In an instant, the water illuminated, as Sasuke cast his own fireball, effortlessly, smoothly, illuminating the water’s surface and the dark, shadowy mass below it.
Sakura’s heart was in her throat.
There was something – someone – in the water.