Archive of Our Own ^beta

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it began, but somewhere in the long, quiet hours of his imprisonment, he felt an unmistakable thrill every time she was near—a faint warmth in his chest that only seemed to grow.

At first, he’d only thought of her as a healer, her presence routine and practical as she tended to his injuries from the Fourth Great Ninja War. He’d spent months alone in that cell, wrestling with regret, numb to almost everything. But gradually, her steady presence became something else—a small, fragile source of hope in his darkness. Every time she entered, her calm voice and gentle touch became less about duty and more about connection, lighting something within him that he couldn’t deny. By the time his release was granted through Kakashi’s good grace, connections and the unwavering support of his team-mates, he knew his feelings for her had long taken root—quietly, inevitably, and entirely against his will.

Sakura— Just her name was enough to stir something deep within him—a name that felt warm, gentle, and reassuring, like the first light after a long, dark night. She came to him in the late hours, her presence soft yet steady, bringing a sense of peace he’d forgotten existed. Those late-night check-ups became the only part of his day he looked forward to, moments that broke through the silence surrounding him. She’d talk to him quietly, asking about his past, his dreams, his fears, each word spoken like a promise that she would see him for who he was now, not who he had been.

Every time her hands brushed his, she’d give a gentle squeeze, just enough to tell him she believed in him. That touch said more than words ever could; it spoke of faith, forgiveness, and a chance to start over. And he felt it—a rush of excitement, something he hadn’t felt in years. In her presence, he could almost believe he was worthy of it all.

When Sasuke finally stepped out of the prison, his freedom felt surreal—a second chance granted by those who believed he could be more. But with freedom came something else entirely, something he hadn’t expected. Training with her again, just like they used to, should have felt familiar, routine. Yet, every time his gaze brushed over her, it was as if he were seeing her for the first time. She was no longer the girl he remembered, the one who used to chase after him with that determined, innocent light in her eyes.

Now, she moved with a quiet strength, a graceful assurance that made it impossible to look away. Her body had changed, too—slender, yet strong, with curves he couldn’t ignore, a lithe form that somehow pulled his attention no matter how hard he tried to focus. The lines of her waist, the power in her legs, even the glint of confidence in her expression—it all spoke of a woman, not a girl. And with every stolen glance, he felt a thrill and confusion he couldn’t quite control. When had she grown into someone so striking, so undeniably captivating? He’d missed so much, and now he wondered what else he had yet to see.

The late nights at Ichiraku’s felt like their own little world—warm, dimly lit, and filled with the comforting hum of shared silence between them. Sitting close at the counter, he found himself drawn to the smallest details: the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, her quiet laughter, the warmth in her eyes as they talked. Sometimes, his hand would drift closer to hers, fingertips brushing her thigh—a subtle touch that sent a thrill through him he couldn’t quite explain. And, on a few occasions, he let his fingers linger just a moment longer, almost by accident, yet never quite unintentional.

It wasn’t that he meant to be forward; he was no stranger to discipline, no stranger to restraint. But with her, every touch felt like discovery, and somehow, it felt right. She was the only one who stirred this curiosity within him, the only one who made him want to break his own rules, if only to feel that closeness a little longer. It wasn’t lewd—it was something deeper, a warmth and longing he couldn’t shake. He’d never felt this way with anyone else, and in these quiet moments with her, he realized that he didn’t want to.

He knew Sakura felt it every time his hand brushed her thigh, but she always pretended not to notice, her face as serene as ever, her soft smile unchanged. Sakura was good like that—kind, considerate, unwilling to embarrass him, even if she suspected that those touches might mean more. She held him in such high regard, believing he was someone worthy of her trust, someone honorable and reserved. And that knowledge pained him more than anything, because he knew the truth—she saw only what he wanted her to see.

If only she knew how often his mind wandered in ways he could never admit. If only she knew how many times he had fucked her inside his mind, how many times he’d pictured her in ways that left his heart pounding, filling his nights with dreams of her that he couldn’t shake. He imagined her in his arms, imagined the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body against his, in countless moments he’d conjured in his mind but could never act upon. She saw him as pure, as someone steady and composed, but if she could see into his thoughts, she’d know the extent of his longing, the depth of his desire for her, would she be appalled? Disgusted even. Yet he kept that part of him hidden, letting her believe in the man she thought he was, even if it only made him want her more.

Somehow, Sasuke always knew when Sakura was near, like some unspoken connection hummed between them, invisible yet undeniable. The moment she entered the room, his eyes would snap to her, tracing her every step, his teeth pressing into his knuckles as if he were on the verge of losing control. It was magnetic—the way he watched her, so intensely that when their gazes met, she’d look away, cheeks pink and flustered, as though his gaze held too much heat to bear.

He relished that reaction, the small, subtle power he had over her, the way she couldn’t quite hold his gaze without retreating. It felt like their own unspoken language, one he didn’t care to hide. In fact, part of him wanted the others to see, to know that he acknowledged her, understood her, in a way that transcended mere teamwork. She wasn’t just a teammate—she was someone he was drawn to, someone who quieted the chaos inside him with just a glance. And if anyone else thought they could steal her attention, well, he was ready to make it clear where her focus would truly belong.

The nights had never been kind to him. For years, they were haunted by shadows, filled with nightmares of his past—the hollow faces of his clan, the weight of the lives he had taken, the relentless ache of all he had lost. But recently, another presence began filling his nights, pushing through the darkness in ways he couldn’t control. Sakura. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—her laughter, her smile, the warmth of her touch. His mind painted vivid fantasies of her, scenes that left him restless and breathless. The feelings were new and raw, emotions he’d long buried beneath discipline and regret, but with her, they surged to the surface, impossible to deny.

He didn’t know which was more painful: the guilt of his violent past or the relentless, unbridled desire he now felt for her. Night after night, he dreamed of holding her, of feeling her skin against his, of whispering words he’d never spoken aloud. And yet, these dreams left him torn, as though he had violated something precious and sacred within her. He knew she saw him as someone strong, someone trustworthy, and yet here he was, longing for her in ways he felt unworthy of. He had never truly touched her, but in his mind, he had crossed every line, surrendering to feelings he could neither fully accept nor escape. It was his own private torment—a yearning that gave him no peace, just like the regrets of his past.

The time when Naruto insisted they spend the night drinking outside for a change, Sasuke had reluctantly agreed, unsure if he could handle being in such close quarters with her. Yet here she was, sitting right across from him, her laughter filling the air as she drank. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, feeling the warmth of her presence like an ache he couldn’t shake. Every laugh, every sip she took only pulled him deeper into his own silent longing, a need that felt more suffocating with each passing moment.

He watched as her cheeks grew rosy, her eyes brighter and unfocused as she slowly drifted into a comfortable haze of drunkenness. She stuttered over her words, giggling at herself, leaning in just a little too close, and his heart hammered against his ribs. She was beautiful, unguarded, her every expression and movement more endearing than he could bear. His hand itched to reach out, to brush a lock of hair from her face, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers. But he forced himself to stay still, the desire almost painful in its intensity. He had never wanted anyone this way, this desperately, yet here she was—close enough to touch but just out of reach. And so he watched, quietly aching, feeling as if he were holding his breath just being near her.

As the night wore on, Sakura had drunk far more than he’d ever seen her drink, her laughter turning soft and hazy, her movements unsteady. When Naruto and Kakashi suggested someone take her home, he resisted, knowing all too well the depths of his own yearning and the danger it posed. He didn’t want to risk a single misstep, to let even a moment of weakness mar the respect he held for her. But after relentless persuasion, he found himself at her side, supporting her as they made their way to her apartment. Every step felt like a test of his self-control, every breath an exercise in restraint.

She leaned against him, murmuring softly, her body warm and trusting as she stumbled through the dark streets. By the time they reached her door, his hand shook as he fumbled with the key, the weight of her presence almost overwhelming. He’d been here before—knew her apartment, her space, each detail that made it hers—and now, here he was, guiding her through the familiar rooms, heart pounding with every step. She clung to him as he led her to her bed, her head resting briefly against his shoulder, her hand gripping his arm with a softness that made his chest tighten.

Sakura stood in the middle of her room, her body swaying slightly, the drunken haze clouding her vision. Her eyes, usually so sharp and composed, were unfocused, filled with a softness she never showed anyone. She looked at Sasuke, her expression clouded with confusion and warmth, and without thinking, she slurred, “Stay… stay the night with me, Sasuke-kun. You can… you can stay in my room.”

Sasuke froze, his chest tightening. Her words were like a quiet storm—innocent, yet loaded with meaning. His heart thundered in his chest, caught between a deep, aching desire to keep his distance and the overwhelming pull to stay by her side. He looked at her, pain flickering across his features—a pain so raw, it made her pause for just a moment, though she didn’t truly comprehend it. She was too drunk to see the conflict in his eyes.

“Would you just invite anyone to stay the night with you in your bed?” His voice was hoarse, strained, the weight of the question hanging in the air like an unspoken warning.

Sakura, barely processing his words, bit her lip, her gaze fluttering as she tried to steady herself. “No… absolutely not,” she murmured, her voice soft but certain in her haze, “It’s you, Sasuke… You’re not like that… You’re not… like them…” She trailed off, the sentence unfinished, but her meaning clear, though she couldn’t have said it with more clarity even if she had been sober.

Sasuke’s eyes darkened, his breath shallow as he closed the distance between them with one slow step, his presence looming over her, heavy, undeniable. His words were a whisper, but they landed like a strike. “I’m not like what?” His voice was barely audible, but the way he said it made her shiver.

He watched her, the intensity of his gaze so sharp, so overwhelming, that it felt like he could see through her—every hidden fear, every tender thought, every ounce of her vulnerability. She stumbled, her body tilting dangerously, her mind too foggy to balance herself properly. Her vision swam, and her head grew lighter by the second.

Before Sakura could even register what was happening, she lost her balance and began to fall, the world around her spinning. But Sasuke was quick, his arm shooting out to catch her effortlessly, pulling her close just in time, his strength keeping her from hitting the floor.

Sakura’s body went limp in his arms, her breathing slow and deep as she passed out from the alcohol, unaware of the storm of emotions swirling within him. Sasuke stood there for a moment, holding her, his heart in turmoil. He’d saved her from hitting the ground, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to save himself from the overwhelming feelings she had awakened in him.

His pulse raced as he tucked her in, every instinct urging him closer, yet he forced himself to step back, to draw a line he refused to cross. He ached with the closeness, with the longing he fought to contain, knowing he could never betray her trust—not even in her most vulnerable state. As he stood there, watching her fall into a peaceful, drunken sleep, he felt both agony and relief. The strength it took not to surrender to his feelings left him shaken, but he knew that this, too, was a part of the respect he held for her. And in that quiet moment, he found a strange, bittersweet peace—one born of love, not possession, even as it left him aching.

He stood there, paralyzed, watching her face. Her skin, soft and flawless, seemed to glow in the dim light, and the delicate curve of her features was a perfect balance of strength and tenderness. His eyes traced her lashes—long, thick, and framing eyes that held a depth he couldn’t quite understand. They fluttered as she breathed, a movement so delicate it almost seemed unreal. And then, his gaze lingered on her lips—plump, inviting, as if they were a secret calling to him, a silent invitation that pulled at him in ways he could not explain.

His hand hovered just inches from her face, his fingers trembling slightly as they traced the air around her, as if afraid to touch her. He didn’t want to disturb the fragile beauty of the moment, the quiet peace between them. But the urge to feel her, to reach out and close the distance, was unbearable. He had never been so captivated by someone before, not like this. Every inch of her was a mystery, a longing he didn’t know how to process. His heart raced, his mind spinning with the intensity of the feelings she evoked in him. She was more than just a woman to him—she was an enigma, a force of nature he didn’t know how to control.

Sasuke began to sit beside her, the weight of the silence heavy in the air. Sakura, utterly unaware, slept soundly, her body still and relaxed from the alcohol. She was so vulnerable, so peaceful, and it gnawed at him. For the first time, he found himself consumed by a desire, a craving he couldn’t shake—something raw and uncontrollable that he’d never allowed himself to feel before. His gaze lingered on her face, so serene, so innocent in sleep. It was the way she was unaware of him that hurt the most.

His thoughts, clouded by an unfamiliar yearning, wandered down to the delicate curve of her exposed clavicle, to the soft rise of her chest as she breathed. A part of him told him to stop—to pull away, to leave the room and regain his composure—but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was so close, yet so far beyond reach. The intensity of his longing made his breath uneven. He knew it was wrong, knew it in his very bones.

He struggled with himself, trying to control the thoughts that swirled in his head, but it was no use. His body betrayed him, and the shame of it consumed him, especially as he looked at her again, her face still innocent, unaware of his turmoil. His hands trembled and sweaty as he wiped them on his pants brushing his erection then disappearing inside the pants. His breath shallow and erratic, it felt so good— if only it was her mouth doing the job.

As the euphoria passed and he was finally satisfied with his sweet release, it left behind only emptiness, and a feeling that made him want to recoil from himself. He felt sick, like he had lost something important—his sense of control, his integrity, and the trust he had promised to protect. He had let his emotions guide him in a way that felt foreign, something that made him feel less than the person he aspired to be.

His hand clenched into a fist, and he looked down at it in disgust— riddled with his release, glistening in the dim lighted room. He had acted against his own better judgment, and now he felt small, like he had betrayed not only her trust but his own ideals. The distance between them, once so clear, had never seemed so wide. What would she think if she knew? He couldn’t bear to imagine it.

It was as though all the years of hatred, pain, and obsession with revenge had kept him from experiencing the world in its fullness. Every thought had been consumed by his past, by the pursuit of vengeance and justice, leaving little room for anything else. People, relationships—they had always felt like distractions, unnecessary ties that would only weigh him down.

But now, as the dust of the past settled and the weight of his journey lifted, something new emerged. Sakura. Her presence in his life had always been there, a constant, a teammate. But it was only now, in the quiet after everything, that he truly saw her— really saw her—and it was as if the world had shifted. Every small gesture, every word she spoke, every glance she gave him filled him with something he couldn’t control.

He had always prided himself on being detached, on not needing anyone. But with her, that resolve began to crumble. The thought of her consumed his every moment, and the intensity of his feelings for her left him unsettled. It was more than just a passing infatuation; it was something deep, something he had never felt before. It wasn’t just physical attraction—it was the way she cared, the way she believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself. It was the warmth she exuded, the strength that shone through her vulnerability.

Sasuke had never been one to seek out connections. He had closed himself off from everything, determined to avenge his clan and destroy the past. Yet here he was, feeling an emotion he couldn’t escape.

She was everything he had never allowed himself to want. He had never imagined that such a connection, such a powerful feeling, would break through the walls he had so carefully built.

He had always thought of himself as a broken man, someone whose sins could never be undone. But now, in the quiet moments of reflection, he saw something even darker in himself. He wasn’t just broken—he was tainted. She was pure, untouched by the weight of his past, and the thought of being near her, of feeling these emotions that threatened to consume him, filled him with an overwhelming sense of shame.

He was not the man who deserved someone like her. He had crossed lines he could never undo, and the guilt of it eating him inside.

He needed distance. He needed to leave—to clear his mind, to get away from her and the feelings that tied him in knots. He couldn’t face her anymore. The purity she exuded only made him feel more like a fraud. He couldn’t keep pretending to be someone worthy of her trust, her admiration. The emotions she stirred in him weren’t something he understood, and they had begun to feel like a weight, a burden he couldn’t carry while staying close to her.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by confusion, Sasuke made his choice. He would leave the village. A journey of redemption is calling him, not just to atone for his sins, but to escape the storm of emotions that threatened to drown him. He needed to see the world, to confront his past, to wrestle with himself in solitude. Only then could he begin to understand what these feelings meant, only then could he find the clarity he so desperately needed.

Days after that incident Sasuke had made up his mind to leave the village once again.

Sasuke stood at the edge of the village, the weight of his decision heavy on his chest. He had always been a man driven by a singular purpose—revenge. For so long, he had buried every emotion, every connection that could have tied him to something softer, something more human. He had been cold, detached, and resolute in his path. But now, standing here, looking at the village he once called home, he felt something unfamiliar stir within him.

Her. Sakura.

Her face haunted him, her words lingering like a warm, uninvited breeze. She had always been there, quietly believing in him when he had given nothing in return.

The village gates stood before him, a quiet reminder of everything he was leaving behind. Sasuke’s heart was heavy, torn between the need for solitude and the guilt of the decision he had made. He could feel her presence before he even turned around.

Sakura stood there with Kakashi, her figure outlined against the soft glow of the morning sun. She was silent, but he could see the worry in her eyes, the unspoken words hanging between them. She had known for some time that he was restless, that something had been pulling at him. But seeing her now, standing there to send him off, made the weight of his choice feel unbearable. She had always been there—steadfast, unyielding in her support, even when he didn’t deserve it. And yet here he was, about to walk away from her again.

Her eyes met his, filled with an emotion he couldn’t fully understand, but it was enough to make him falter. His gaze softened for a brief moment, the usual walls he kept around his heart starting to crack.

“Sasuke…” Her voice was a whisper, but it cut through him like a knife. “Don’t go—do you really need to?—can I come?”

He knew he couldn’t stay—not yet. Not until he figured out who he was, what he felt, and how to be the person she deserved.

“I have to,” Sasuke said softly, his voice rough with the weight of emotions he hadn’t yet learned to express. His gaze dropped to the ground for a moment before he looked back at her, a deep, conflicted sincerity in his eyes.

There was a long pause, an aching silence that stretched between them. But this was something he needed to do—he needed to find his path, his redemption, and only time would give him the clarity he sought.

Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers lightly touching her forehead in the familiar gesture that held so much more than words ever could. She blinked in surprise, looking up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“I’ll come back,” he said quietly, his voice almost a vow. “And next time, I’ll take you with me.”

Her expression softened, and for a fleeting moment, the sadness in her eyes was replaced by something like hope. A promise—a promise that, for Sasuke, was the only thing he could give her. His heart ached knowing how much she believed in him, how much she trusted him despite everything. He wished he could be the person she saw in him, the person worthy of her faith.

Sakura didn’t say anything. She simply nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. But she didn’t ask him to stay. She knew better than to hold him back. And though she wanted to, part of her understood that he had to leave to find his own way, just as she had once done.

As he turned to leave, the village shrinking in the distance behind him, he felt a pang in his chest—a reminder of what he was leaving behind. But this was something he had to do. For her, for himself. The shame of his emotions was something he couldn’t reconcile, not yet. Not until he had the time to find peace within himself.

Sasuke didn’t know what the future held, but he knew one thing for sure—he couldn’t face her again until he understood the man he was becoming.

fin