#AHH maybe i will do a longer explanation when i can think clearly

[anistarrae]

not a request buuuut how do you color your drawings like. the way you do it. how do you decide colors? how do you do tones and stuff and. it’s hard to explain sorry 😞 i just really like the coloring

i didnt know how to explain it so i opened iMovie

[tommybaholland]

can i request a first years + gojo x reader- playing imessage games with them? thanks

when they play imessage games with their s/o

featuring: yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, nobara kugisaki, and satoru gojo

ahh i love imessage games, i’m a pro at cup pong >:) apologies to any android users reading this right now. thank you for requesting!

itadori

he really gets into some 8 ball and he’s actually pretty good at it

you’ve won by default a few times and he’ll say it doesn’t count but you’ve beaten him for real on occasion as well

it’s literally the only game you’ll play together and neither one of you seems to get tired of it

if he knows you’re having a bad day or not feeling great and isn’t with you, he’ll send a game to help cheer you up (but you don’t let him go easy on you) 

but every time he wins, he thinks that he should get a ‘prize’

“gimme another kiss, pleaseeee,” he pleads from behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“i just need another hour so i can finish this, yu,” you reasoned as you continued to look at your laptop screen.

“but i won in pool and i’m cashing in my prize.”

“which would be?”

“ten uninterrupted minutes with my baby,” he offers with a pout. 

you pause for a few moments. “five.”

“ten.”

“five, yuji.”

“okay, eight.”

“fine. i’m setting a timer for exactly eigh--- oof.”

you didn’t even get to finish your sentence as he had already taken it upon himself to pull you on top of him. he kept you against his chest with his arms wrapped around you, looking longingly at you. 

“hi.”

“hey,” you chuckle, your face being closer to his than you originally thought. 

“so…” he trails off, his one hand traveling up to your shoulder. “may i have a kiss?”

you roll your eyes playfully. “i guess so.”

you close the gap between you, his lips molding against yours as his hands caressed the sides of your face. you giggled against his lips as he tried to prolong the kiss, bringing you back in after each time your lips separated. 

“you said one kiss.”

“i thought we said eight minutes?”

although he was clearly planning to keep you for longer than eight minutes. 

megumi

he’s not really on his phone super often so he doesn’t really understand why anyone would play games through text until you got him into cup pong

first, you had to teach him how play it because he used to be really bad at it

like he would either slide his finger too far across the screen or too slow so the ball wouldn’t get anywhere but eventually he got the hang of it

he had come close but hadn’t yet won a game against you, amazed at how you could beat him every time, even when he thought he had it

sometimes you would pull off these crazy moves

“what the hell!?” he reacted in disbelief at another loss on his end, earning a laugh from you while sitting next to him. “how are you so good at this game?”

you shrugged. “i can feel when a ball’s going to go in the cup.”

“what, how? is this some kind of weird curse technique that i don’t know about?” he asked. 

“no, gumi,” you replied, amused by how intensely he was getting into the game. “i can just feel in my fingers when i have a good or a bad shot.”

“hmm,” he grunted, clearly still puzzled by your explanation.

“it’s a fancy way of saying ‘i’ve been playing this game for a long time,’” you added. 

“clearly,” he mumbled. “it seems like you have nothing else to do.”

“well, now i have someone who will play with me anytime!” you exclaimed, holding his hand, shaking it lightly in excitement. 

“if i’m not busy,” he responded, feigning inattention to you. 

“whatever you say, gumi,” you teased. 

he sulked in his seat silently for a few moments. 

“is someone upset that they lost?” you cooed at him. 

“maybe,” he muttered under his breath. “you owe me.”

“oh? and what would that be?” you asked, humoring him. 

“c’mon, let’s go home,” he said suddenly, taking your hand and leading you away. 

“you want some attention, don’t you?” you asked

“you already know the answer to that, smartass,” he replied. 

“i can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me,” you remarked in a sing-song tone. 

he stopped walking for a moment, looking over to you coyly. “i want…”

“go ahead, say it,” you urged gently. 

“i want...your cuddles.”

nobara

four in a row is a pretty relaxing game until you’re at the point that you have to start thinking two steps ahead of your opponent and at that point, she leaves no room for mercy

you’ll play when you’re not together, of course, but you often like to play when you’re just hanging out and not doing much because it’s fun to see the other person’s real life reaction

if one of you beats the other, you’re always on the warpath the next round to win back your honor

and she’s always got some excuse whenever she loses

“don’t even-- don’t you do it-- oh my god,” she reacts as you play your final chip, connecting your four pieces and claiming victory. 

“hah! me again,” you announce, quoting from one of your favorite movies to watch together. it’s become an inside joke between the two of you. 

“ugh that is not fair! whatever,” she rejects, crossing her arms and pouting. 

“what’s not fair?”

“you’re cheating!” 

“what? how do you cheat at four in a row?” you wondered, amused by her reaction. 

“well, let’s play again and i’ll watch you very carefully to make sure,” she offers.

“alright, deal,” you agree. 

you start a new game, playing your first few chips as usual. she sits close to you, watching as you play each of your chips. after a few turns, you notice her touching you more, starting with her head leaning on your shoulder and then one of her hands scratching your back. 

“stop that,” you squirmed as her nails tickled your skin through the fabric of your shirt. 

“stop what? i’m not doing anything,” she replies nonchalantly. 

“yes, you are,” you retorted. “you’re distracting me.”

“oh, am i?” she questions innocently, catching your eye. she gazes at you with a playful smirk before leaning forward, closing the gap between your lips. after a few cheeky kisses, you pull away to hear her say, 

“me again.” 

gojo 

he likes a lot of the strategy type games like chess, checkers, four in a row but his favorite to play with you would be mancala

you’ve beaten him a handful of times but he seems to find a way to pull the rug out from under you with mancala sometimes

it can be dangerous to play with him when you’re feeling lucky or cocky about winning because you’re more susceptible to placing bets with him 

which his stakes are usually not super favorable to you but to him, that’s the point

“if i win, you have to move that super heavy desk to the office,” you offered. 

“that’s all?” he responds, feigning nonchalance to throw you off the scent that he really doesn’t want to move that thing but he’s pretty sure you can see through it. 

“okay and if i win….” he pauses dramatically. “you have to wear that outfit that i like for the rest of the day.”

“what? seriously, toru?” 

“hey, i am a just a simple man who’s very attracted to you,” he explains, holding his hands up in innocence. 

“besides, you’re gonna win, right?”

you gave him a suspicious look before replying. “you’re darn right i am.”

“hmph, love the confidence, baby.” 

after the longest ten minutes of your life, it was close, but to no avail for you. 

“yes! looks that desk will have to wait another day,” he exclaimed while you placed your head down on the counter in defeat. 

“i’ll go get your special attire ready for you, babe,” he offered, kissing the top of your head before leaving the room as you mentally prepared yourself for the next few hours. 

“can’t believe you’re making me do this,” you muttered as you stood there in his ‘favorite outfit.’ 

“why? you look so cute,” he complimented. “now, come, come. let’s watch one of our shows.”

“you want me to watch something with you while i’m dressed like this?”

“yes?” he answered, not sure what your reaction would entail. 

you scoffed a laugh as you sat down beside him. “you are something else, satoru gojo.”

“the one and only.”

you shook your head before he caught your attention once more, his thumb brushing under your chin. 

“hey….you look really pretty.” 

he leaned in to press his lips against yours for a sweet kiss.

“okay, save the flattering for later. i actually want to watch this.”

come back next week for more jjk night! maybe see your request fulfilled??

[downspiral-dreamer]

an excerpt from my WIP, Six Feet Under The Stars

                                                       ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Why is your hair… like that?” Eli asked one day, the curiosity taking hold out of nowhere. He watched as Beck, in solid form and hanging upside down from the bed, hoisted himself back up and frowned.

“Like what?” 

For a moment, Eli hesitated, trying to figure out the best way to describe what he was wondering. “I can tell that the base is blond, but it has this kind of… green tinge to it. I dunno, I’m just curious, that’s all. I’ve never noticed it on other spirits, but then again, none of them have ever gone solid in front of me before.”

Beck shrugged, twisting around and reaching down to the floor to retrieve his newsboy cap. “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Eli hopped off the bed and moved to his closet door, swinging it open so that the mirror faced toward the bed. “Have you not looked in the mirror?”

For a moment, Beck simply stared at him, before finally sliding off the bed and walking over to stand beside Eli. In the mirror, the reflection of Eli looked back at them, but Beck was nowhere to be found, the side of the mirror where he should have been empty and unassuming.

“Looks like I’m not visible in mirrors even when I’m solid.” Beck stepped back and flopped down onto the bed again. “I must be more like a vampire or something; I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

With a sigh, Eli turned around, foot tapping the floor as he thought for a moment. As the idea came to him, he snapped his finger and walked over to the desk, beginning to rummage through the drawers. Beck watched passively, saying nothing as the other approached with a handful of sketchbooks, coloured pencils, and watercolour paints.

“What are you doing?” The words were tinged with good-natured laughter as Beck pushed himself further up the bed to give Eli space.

“Get comfy.” Eli grinned, flipping through the pages of his sketchbook until he came to an empty one. He picked up some pencils, glancing up to see that Beck hadn’t moved, and was simply watching him blankly. “Go on, get comfy!”

Beck slowly shifted, eventually settling on a crosslegged position in between the pillows at the head of the bed. “Why?”

“I’m gonna draw you. Stay still.”

“Wait--” Beck blinked, and he looked around as if there might be someone else hiding in the corners of the room that Eli was talking to. “You’re… drawing me?”

“Don’t be so scared!” Eli pointed his pencil at the ghost. “And stay still! I haven’t figured out how to draw portraits of moving models yet. C’mon, it’s not like you have anywhere else to be right now, you said it yourself earlier.”

Grumbling under his breath, Beck returned to his previous position, limbs twitching as though simply the act of staying still was something he could barely handle. Eli began to sketch, occasionally smiling and hiding the fact that he was doing so by looking down at his pad again. More than once he had to remind the other to stop fidgeting, and as to be expected, he was met with grumbling every time.

Finally finished with his sketch, Eli looked up, accidentally locking eyes with Beck, who had apparently been watching him. For a moment, the two were frozen, and then Eli cleared his throat, shaking his head as though trying to flip his hair out of his face. “Okay, you can do whatever now.”

Beck hesitated, then leaned forward. Eli’s heart picked up speed, thinking something else entirely was about to happen, until he noticed that Beck was trying to peek at the sketchbook. He clasped it to his chest. “I’m not done with it yet, I haven’t added colour! I just meant you can stop… staying still now.”

“Oh.” Beck looked away for a moment, then slid to the edge of the bed and rose to his feet. He wandered aimlessly around the room for a few moments before finally alighting at Eli’s desk, picking up one of the books there and opening it.

For almost another two hours, Eli kept working on his art piece. He would glance up every now and then, trying to make sure the colours were mixing properly. In the end, he decided it wasn’t half-bad… not perfect, and certainly not photorealistic, which was what he hoped to do someday, but it looked like Beck and that had been the intention.

He could have stood up to go to the desk, where Beck still sat reading, especially since he had to put his art supplies away. But, perhaps selfishly, he decided he would rather have Beck on the bed again. “Hey! C’mere. I finished it.”

The ghost looked up, newsboy cap so far down over his eyes they were barely visible. He set the book down on the desk and crossed the room to sit next to Eli, reaching up on habit to twist his cap backwards so that he could be seen properly. His body, while still solid, was beginning to look transparent again - it wasn’t a surprise to Eli, after all, Beck had been solid for hours now and it took energy that he needed to recharge in spirit form. A warm sensation blossomed in Eli’s chest at the thought that maybe Beck had stayed like this for so long so that that the colours of his face, his hair, and his clothes would remain vivid rather than washed out and greyed.

Eli handed the sketchbook over to Beck, who sat and studied it for several minutes; the portrait was a full body one, showing everything from his outfit - dark trench coat over dark pants, scarlet shirt, and leather suspenders - and his facial features; worn but expressive, hair long and shaggy and falling across his shoulders, a green-tinged blond, the newsboys cap perched atop his head and the ruddy scars that encircled his neck. 

Eli had wanted to capture it all, and as he gazed not at the art but at the ghost he had taken inspiration from, pride swelled in his chest. He had done well.

Finally, Beck looked up from the portrait. “That’s… that’s what I look like?” The question was trepidant, his brow furrowed as he looked up at Eli, then back down at the paper, then back up again.

“Yeah… I mean, it’s not perfect, I’m not a professional, but it’s--yeah, it’s what you look like.” The strange expression on Beck’s face brought concern with it, and Eli’s hands began playing with the hem of his sheets. “You don’t have to like it, I just wanted--”

“No, no, no, no. “ The shadow that had fallen over Beck’s face vanished and he shook his head, reaching out to shove Eli’s shoulder in a playful manner. “Don’t start with that. I do like it, and you did fine work, it’s just…” He shrugged, glancing down at the paper again. “I haven’t looked in a mirror since… before I died probably. I’ve got no memories of what I looked like. This is kind of like seeing myself for the first time… just feels strange.”

The realisation settled in and Eli nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s alright.” Beck shuddered, disappearing for a few moments, and when he reappeared, it was in spirit form, faded and floating ever so slightly above the bed. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t… couldn’t hold the form anymore.”

“No, it’s okay! Thank you so much for keeping it until I was done with the picture.” Eli shifted slightly, missing the sensation of the body next to him but unwilling to say anything of it. 

“So, uh…” Beck floated slightly further upward, no longer giving the illusion of sitting on the bed. “The… scars don’t… scare you.”

For a second, Eli didn’t understand what the other meant. When it hit him, he shook his head vehemently. “On your neck? Of course not. Like I said, all ghosts have them, usually. It’s sometimes the only way I can figure out how they passed away.”

Beck said nothing in response and for a few minutes, the two of them simply sat in silence. Eli, finally feeling awkward, rose to his feet and went to put his art supplies away. From behind him, he heard, “So what about the hair?”

“I’m not… scared of your hair,” Eli returned, frowning. When he turned around the ghost was giving him an expression that could only be described as teasing.

“No, the green stuff, you dolt.” Beck’s face brightened into a grin, betraying the lack of malice behind his words. “I don’t have an explanation for you, I’m afraid. Despite how long I’ve been dead, I’ve never looked into the specifics of ghost anatomy and shit like that.”

“Oh!” Cheeks burning more than they already were, Eli threw himself onto the bed facedown, lifting his head only enough to speak clearly. “I’m guessing it’s some sort of ectoplasm or something that sticks with you when you go solid. For some ghosts they leave behind this sort of green residue when they leave this world and go back to the next. I’m guessing for you, some of it just sort of comes with you when you go solid. I wasn’t sure, because I’ve never seen it on a ghost before, but then, I’ve never seen any of you go solid before either.”

“Ahh. Well, the more you know.” Beck ran his fingers through his transparent hair, making an interested hum. 

Eli curled up on the foot of the bed, clutching one of the pillows to his chest. A glance at the digital clock said it was only 5pm, but the sun was setting, and his parents weren’t home to harass him about eating… and despite wanting to stay up, wanting to spend as much time as he could with Beck, Eli found himself with heavy eyelids and a desire to curl up closer to the pillows and blankets. 

He could hear the ever so faint whispering sound that occurred when Beck used his powers, and the darkening room was lit up with a faint purple glow as the LED strip lights along the perimeter of Eli’s lights turned on seemingly out of nowhere. A few seconds later, the shimmering form of the culprit came floating over Eli’s head and coming to a stop at the head of the bed. 

Eli didn’t try to move closer, content where he was at the foot of the bed, but rolled over so that he was faced toward Beck. He could just barely make out the details of the other’s face and body, an outline that seemed to glow a faint green-blue, harder to see in the dim violet light that bathed the room. And even though he couldn’t feel a solid body beside his own, he found the other’s presence still brought comfort and peace.

“Get some rest, kid. I’ll be around when you wake up.”

Eli mumbled something, trying to say… he wasn’t sure what. Something grateful, something appreciative. He found himself drifting off to sleep before he could manage, safe under Beck’s gaze.

[connan-l]

Game Evening

Fandom: Rose Guns Days Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Rose Haibara & Stella Maiougi & Meryl Tanashi Summary: Rose, Stella and Meryl come back late at the Maiougis’ apartment after a long day, and decide to kill time by playing a simple game…

Content Warning: This should be obvious given the story and characters but, there are mentions of prostitution, and some crude conversations about sex/sex jokes. Nothing really explicit though.

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Link on Archive of Our Own

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Notes: This is just a short story I wrote on impulse when I discovered that there was a Rose Guns Days section on AO3 but got saddened by how empty it was. The main lady trio is great and it was the easiest relationship to write about for me!

I have to precise that I read RGD only once and it was… something like three years ago, thus my memories of the VN are a bit blurry. So I’m sorry if there are some details I missed or that I don’t really have the characters exactly right.

This takes place before Season 1, shortly after Rose became the madam.

Also, I have no idea if truth or dare was a thing that existed during 1930s Japan, but you know, whatever.

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The first thing Rose did after entering the apartment was to collapse into the sofa, her long, beautiful pink hair scattering all around her like a sumptuous veil. Her body was numb, her mind dazed, her eyelids heavy. If she stayed like this for a few more minutes, she would probably fell asleep. Never had she felt so tired after a day of work. A mischievous giggle from behind her managed to drag her back to reality though.

“Being the madam is not easy, huh?” She heard Meryl say in a teasing voice.

“Leave her alone, will you?” Stella added. “She worked hard today, she deserves her rest.”

“I wasn’t trying to be mean!”

Rose sighed, her mind unable to bring itself to keep up with her friends’ familiar bickering. Both Stella and Meryl had the night off today — something pretty rare — but Rose had spent the day running around because of all the work she had to take care of. It has only been a couple of months since she’d taken the title of the madam of Primavera, and she already felt overwhelmed. Thankfully,  all the ladies of the night had been exceedingly supportive of her so far — even Amanda seemed not utterly disapproving of her choices — and of course, Richard had been by her side to help her at every steps. He had a business meeting tonight, to which Rose had wanted to accompany him, but he had told her he and Cyrus would take care of everything, so she needn’t worry. Stella was supposed to be the one to go home to babysit Yuuji tonight, so both Meryl and Rose had chosen to stay with her.

“Anyway, I’m going to make some tea,” Stella said. “Or do you want something else?”

“Nah, tea’s good,” the blonde woman replied. “Right, Rose?”

“Hmm…”

Stella exited the room, and Meryl crashed into the armchair next to Rose — who was still motionless, her face sunk into the cushion. From afar, she’d look almost dead.

“C’mon, Rose,” Meryl said, before starting to poke at her with her finger. “You can’t fall asleep here. At least make the effort to go to a bed.”

“Hmmm…”

“Roooose…”

“Hmmmmm…”

Meryl sighed and rolled her eyes… then an impish smirk stretched her lips. She stood up, slowly advanced towards her friend like a cat, trying to make the less noise possible (not that Rose would have heard her given the catatonic state she was in)… and then she jumped on her.

“Take that! Goozy, goozy, goozy!”

“Ah— W-Wait, what are—”

Rose squeaked, but Meryl didn’t let her have the time to react that she was already straddling her and tickling her. The madam tried to resist, but despite being a really petite woman, Meryl was very physically strong, so she ended up having no other choice than to explode in laughers as the other kept attacking her.

“Hey, be quiet a little!” Stella scolded them while entering the room, a tray full of scalding tea in her hands. “Yuuji’s sleeping just next room!”

She had an uncharacteristic stern face and motherly tone — the one she took whenever her baby nephew was concerned. Stella wasn’t as overprotective of their little boy as Richard, but she would still definitely bare her fangs at anyone who would try to cause troubles to the child.

Meryl moved away from Rose and smiled awkwardly with an apologetic expression on her face, while the other guilty one instantly whispered a soft, full-of-remorse “I’m so sorry” — and as always with Rose when she looked at her with those big, innocent clear blue eyes, it was impossible for Stella to stay angry at her any more longer than that.

“It’s fine,” she said, before putting the tray on the small table in front of them. “But please be careful. Yuuji may be adorable most of the time, but if you wake him up, then he becomes a true little demon. It’s a nightmare to get him back to sleep afterwards.”

“Right, sorry,” Meryl said. “I really don’t wanna deal with a crying baby tonight.”

“Then learn how to be quiet.”

“Sheesh, I said I was sorry! Plus I wasn’t the only one making noise, Rose was super loud too!”

“Y-You’re putting the blame on me?” Rose exclaimed.

Meryl shrugged. “Well, at least now you’re awake.”

“Ahh, whatever,” Stella intervened, rolling her eyes. “Drink your tea before it gets cold.”

She sat next to Rose all while talking, while the other two women grabbed their cups and silently started to sip the hot beverage. Stella’s tea was always very refined and delicate, just in her image. Rose took another gulp of the drink, its sweet flagrance tickling her nostrils, and then she let out a long yawn. Stella smiled gently at her.

“You’re going to go to sleep right after, you, right?” She said softly in an affectionate tone, while putting one of her friend’s pink hair behind her ear. But to her surprise, Rose shook her head.

“No, I think I’ll be fine. I prefer to stay up with you and wait for Richard.”

“You sure?” Meryl insisted. “You can go snooze off while Stella and I take care of everything. We know you’re exhausted. No need to play tough with us, Rose.”

“I-I’m not playing tough, I’m really fine,” she argued. “You truly did wake me up earlier. Furthermore…”

Rose looked down on her laps, her gaze falling into the dark, auburn liquid in her cup of tea.

“I am the madam now… so…”

That was the only sentence she said, no further explanation. Meryl and Stella looked at each others, a clear look of concern they both shared for their friend. But neither of them spoke up about it. Instead, Stella just sighed.

“So what do you want to do in the meantime?” She said. “Play a game or something?”

As soon as she pronounced those words, Rose’s blue eyes lit up like a child’s. All of her sleepiness from a while ago seemed to instantly disappear, so maybe what she had just said hadn’t been a complete lie. “Oh yes! What a good idea. I just have the perfect thing!”

“What?”

Just as the two other ladies of the night exchanged a surprised look, Rose grabbed her purse and began to ransack it. After a few long seconds, she finally took a small box out of it, as a triumphant smile spread on her round face. “There it is!”

“What… What is that?” Stella questioned.

“You proposed we play a game together, right?”

“Well, uh, not really…”

“Well, I have a nice game idea! Let’s play truth or dare.”

“Truth or dare?” Meryl repeated. “Oh yeah. I used to play that when I was a kid.”

Rose flashed an impish smile at her two friends, which made her look at least ten years younger, then opened the box. Inside was a bunch of scattered pieces of paper, with seemingly handwriting scribbled on it.

“Claudia gave these to me this morning, as a gift,” Rose explained. “She said it’s a game she and the other ladies made together.”

Her two friends narrowed their eyes at this, the exact same suspicious expression placarded on their faces.

“What?” Rose asked.

“Well, it’s just,” Meryl started. “You know…”

“Don’t you think Claudia and the others made this as a new way to pick on you?” Stella finished for her.

Rose had always been really beloved amongst the ladies of Primavera, and everyone cherished her as a colleague and a sister. Her natural kindness and sincerity was a big part of it, but she also had a strange charisma that instantly attracted others to her. And now that she was the madam, it was even doubly so. However, she was still Rose, and she tended to often be a little bit… on the naïve and innocent side. Which meant that, while the other women were quite fond of her, they still often loved to tease her. Nothing too mean, of course, just enough to have a good laugh out of her, and Rose was just so easy to tease. Meryl and Stella sometimes took part of those little good-natured pranks themselves. Rose had never seemed to take offence at their habits of gently making fun of her, but she always ended up falling for it.

“Now, don’t be like that,” Rose said. “Claudia even said that she and the others played it quite a few times before. It sounds fun, really. So? What do you think?”

Meryl and Stella exchanged a dubious look. “Fine, I don’t care either way,” the latter said, shrugging.

“Sure? Why not,” Meryl added. “It’s not like we have anything better to do anyway.”

Rose’s smile widened. “Let’s start with the first question, then! So… ‘What’s the—’”

But then she suddenly cut herself short, her enthusiasm vanishing and her cheeks getting redder and redder. Stella and Meryl exchanged an interrogative glance, then stared at their boss expectedly.

“So?” Meryl pressed her. “What’s the question? Come on, we’re waiting.”

“That… That is…”

Rose fidgeted, her discomfort clearly increasing, but she finally managed to blurt out in a very small, trembling voice: “‘What’s… what’s the size… of your… penis…’”

The other two women blinked at her in silence for a moment. And then, finally, they both burst out in laughers.

“I knew you were going to react like that!” Rose exclaimed, halfway between embarrassed and angry.

“Oh my God! That’s a good one!” Meryl blurted out between two chuckles.

“Yeah, they definitely got you fine, huh!” Stella added while wiping the corner of her eye.

“Stop laughing now! Geez!”

“So? We’re waiting, Rose!” Meryl replied. “What’s your size?”

“Ooooh, I bet it’s huge!” Stella said.

“True, true! Rose just has those big balls! I’m sure her meat is even bigger than any of the regulars at Primavera!”

“The clients would be so ashamed if they were to see hers!”

“That’s enough!”

Rose screamed, now as red as a tomato, before throwing at them a few pillows which directly crashed into the women’s faces, but that didn’t stop them from laughing with all of their souls.

“Well, if it’s like that, let’s take the next one!” Rose continued, fumbling among the pieces of paper. “It’s your turn now, Stella! Truth or dare?”

“Hmmm… Truth!”

“All right… er, so… ‘Who in this room you’d like to have sex with—’ Wh-What on earth are those questions?” Rose shouted.

Meanwhile, Stella and Meryl exchanged a look, and stared at their pink-haired, blue-eyed, too-innocent-for-her-own-good friend from head to toes, before replying in the same voice:

“Rose.”

The concerned lady gasped, her cheeks the same color as her dress and hair. “Wh-What?”

“I mean, that’s kinda obvious, isn’t it?” Meryl said. “You’re pretty and cute, and the only other choice I have is her, so really.”

Stella snorted. “Hmph, that’s what I was gonna say. I’d rather die than sleep with you.”

“Hey, I’m glad we’re on an agreement for once!”

“N-Now, now, no need to fight… It’s your turn now, Meryl.”

“Truth.”

“All right, then…” Rose looked at the question, then lightly rolled her eyes, which told the two of them that it was yet again going to be an inappropriate one. “‘What’s the biggest age difference you’ve had between yourself and a sexual partner?’”

Stella chuckled while she was drinking her tea, and she had to put the cup of tea away from her mouth to not spill it over.

“Ohh, that I know!” She exclaimed.

“Ugh, did you really need to remind me of this?” Meryl said.

“I-I’m not the one who choose the questions! If you have a problem, go complain to Claudia and the others!”

“Ah, fine,” Meryl replied while crossing her arms, a clear annoyed look on her face while Stella still struggled to contains her giggles. “It was around two years ago, I think. Some old dude showed up at the brothel. A really old dude. And he was… probably around seventy.”

“Stop lying! He was way into his eighties!” Stella added. “And you never know the best thing about it. When he got into the room with Meryl, he couldn’t even get up his—”

“All right, it’s okay! I’ve heard enough,” Rose quickly cut her off. “S-So, um, anyway, it’s my turn now, so… ‘Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?’ Oh, that’s actually a pretty normal question this time.”

“Huh. So? Do you?’” Meryl asked.

Rose frowned. “What? No, I don’t.”

Meryl and Stella exchanged a glance. “You don’t?”

“Of course not! I’m not a child! Why would you even think that?”

“Well, I had just pinned you has that kind of person,” Stella replied.

“Well, I’m not!”

“I bet you did sleep with a plush as a kid, though!” Meryl argued.

“W-Well…” Rose hesitated, her cheeks slightly. “Yeah… A pink rabbit. B-But I don’t even know where it is anymore! And that’s normal, every kids does that, right?”

“I didn’t,” Meryl answered, almost proudly.

“Well, if you have troubles sleeping tonight, Rose, Yuuji has tone of rabbit plushies, if you want!”

“Oh, shut up!” A red Rose yelled back at her two chuckling friends. “It’s your turn now Stella, so let’s see if you’re gonna keep laughing for long… ‘Take a shot of vodka.’”

There was a long, awkward silence following this.

“No!” Meryl and Rose exclaimed at the same time.

“But… that’s the rule—”

“It’s just a game!” Meryl said. “There’s no reason to do everything it says at the letter!”

“R-Right, you can just, uh, take a shot of your tea. That’s perfect.”

“We’re supposed to look after Yuuji, right? We really can’t deal with a drunk Stella Maiougi right now!”

Stella stared at both of her friends, then let out a heavy, defeated sigh all while grabbing her cup of tea. “Fine,” she grumbled, and Rose was pretty sure she looked… almost annoyed? Did Stella actually enjoy drinking? Or maybe she just had fun getting on everyone’s nerves when she was drunk? Both possibilities were probable.

“A-All right, your turn, Meryl!” She exclaimed, avid to switch the topic before Stella change her mind.

“Right! Uh, uh, truth!”

“Er… ‘What do you appreciate more — love or money?’”

“Money,” both Stella and Meryl answered at the same time, without even an ounce of hesitation.

“Wh-What, really?” Rose exclaimed.

“You’re talking to a bunch of prostitutes, Rose,” Meryl replied. “What did you expect?”

“Actually, she’s technically a prostitute too,” Stella added. “So wait. Does that mean you prefer love, Rose?”

The concerned blushed. “O-Of course I do! That should be obvious.”

Meryl and Stella exchanged a smile, which was halfway between amused and endeared — like something two big sisters looking after their youngest innocent sibling would have.

“Of course, Rose’s always the romantic one,” Stella commented.

“Ahh, it must be nice,” Meryl added, sighing.

“Don’t act as if I’m a kid,” Rose replied, annoyed. “We’re all about the same age.”

Then she paused, her expression more pensive.

“You don’t think love is important?” She finally asked.

“I don’t have anything against it,” Stella clarified. “But having money, food and a roof on top of my head are the most important things to me.”

“Yep,” Meryl agreed. “I already have everything I need, honestly. A good job that pay well, great friends. Love is just a complication in my life that I don’t need right now.”

Their respective answers made sense, given both of their personalities and past life experiences… but for some reason, a part of Rose still felt… a bit saddened by this. Did that make her naïve after all?

Her feelings must have shown on her face, because right after Stella added:

“That’s only for us, though! For you, it can be different. Don’t worry, I’m sure one day you’ll find love. I want to be the one to walk you to the altar, actually!”

“Ooh, me too. Though we’ll be there to make sure the guy you chooses treat you with the respect you deserves.”

“For sure! Otherwise we’ll kick his ass.”

“Oh, we’ll do far worse than that. If he ever hurt Rose, dude can say good bye to his tail!”

Both women started cackling like witches, and Rose smiled awkwardly.

“I… I’m starting to feel sorry for my hypothetic future husband…”

“Anyway, it’s your turn, Rose!” Stella said, while grabbing the box this time and picking one of the papers. “Would you rather be smart or pretty?” She read out loud.

Meryl let out a snort, and Rose cocked an eyebrow. “Um… Smart, I think?”

Stella giggled. “What a silly question. Why would I choose? I’m already both.”

“Ohh, really now,” Meryl commented. “Are you certain about that?”

“I am way smarter and prettier than you, at least, that’s for sure.”

“Wh-What did you just say?”

“Aaall right, next question! S-Stella, it’s your turn! Truth or—”

“Truth.” Stella sighed, and while she still took the time to throw a glare in Meryl’s direction, she turned around towards Rose, who proceeded to read the question out loud.

“So… ‘If you had a time machine, to which time period would you go?’”

“Huh? Uh…”

Suddenly, Stella’s face became pensive, then… slightly nostalgic.

“I…”

She looked at Rose and Meryl, seemingly hesitant to answer. And then, strangely enough, she looked over towards Yuuji’s room, where the door was half-closed. There was no sound coming out of it, suggesting the boy was still profoundly asleep.

“Stella?” Meryl asked, a bit of concern in her voice.

“Ah, sorry, I…” She sighed. “I think if I could do that, I would… go back before the war. Before…” She swallowed. “Before my parents and sister’s deaths.”

Rose and Meryl’s expressions changed to a more somber one, and the ambiance in the room became a lot drearier. Stella’s purple eyes, usually bright with grace and malice, were now dark and focused on her laps, as if she couldn’t bring herself to look at anyone while speaking.

“I’d like for us to be together again as a family like before, even just once. Just the five of us… And especially… I wish Yuuji could meet his actual parents…”

She fell quiet, her words echoing and hanging in the room, while none of them dared to disturb the heavy silence that had taken place. Finally, Stella was the one to cut through the awkward atmosphere, chuckling softly and smiling at her friends.

“Ahh, sorry about that! I didn’t mean to make everyone feel gloomy, hehe.”

“No, it’s fine,” Rose murmured, and she reached forward to gently take Stella’s hand in hers. “We’re not gloomy.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Meryl replied sharply. “There’s nothing wrong about reminiscing about the past from time to time. It’s okay.”

The other two stared at her with wide eyes, and Meryl puffed out her cheeks. “What? Is that such an odd thing for me to say?”

Stella blinked, and she and Rose exchanged a smile. “No, not at all,” the former replied.

Meryl sighed and rolled her eyes, before leaning over on the table to grab a piece of paper. “Anyway! Better to change the subject before one of you starts crying.”

“As if you’re not the one who cries the most easily out of the three of us,” Stella commented.

“Shut up! So, uh, it’s my turn now. Dare! Uhh… ‘Kiss your closest neighbor on the cheek.’ Oh, okay, that one is cute. Come here, Rose!”

“Hey, wait! It says your closest neighbor. Stella’s closer to you than me!”

“What? She’s closer to me from what, a millimeter? C’mon!”

Rose arched an eyebrow and grinned. “That’s what the rules says,” she simply replied.

“Ugh… since when did you become cocky like that?”

“Becoming the madam really did a wonder on her, huh,” Stella remarked.

“The point is that I’m right,” Rose replied. “So. If you have to kiss someone, you kiss Stella.”

Stella and Meryl both looked at each other defiantly — the expressions on their faces clearly telling that they’d rather kill each other than kiss each other. But the two of them also knew better than to try arguing with the madam of Primavera. Rose may be a sweetheart most of the time, but she was a hardened, hella stubborn sweetheart. So, slowly, Stella moved towards her blonde-haired colleague, leaned towards her, and pressed a brief, soft kiss on her round cheek. Then she immediately pulled apart, and crossed her arms — which Meryl mimicked.

“Happy, now?” Stella asked begrudgingly.

Rose giggled. “Yes, very.”

“Fine, well, it’s your turn now,” Meryl quickly added.

“Oh, right! Uh, truth! So, let’s see… ‘Where do you want to be right now?’”

Rose stared at the piece of paper for a moment in silence. For some reason, this question gave her a pause, and she felt as if her mind had blanked out. It wasn’t a hard question, though. She’d always liked the idea of traveling. Across the country, of course — going to Kyoto, or Sapporo, or Nagoya. Since she was a child, she’d always wished to visit Greece too – her father’s hometown, which she had only heard about from the few tales he had told her. There were a lot of places where she would love to be, a lot of people she’d love to be at the side of… But none of these answers seemed right to her now.

“Rose?” Stella called out quietly.

“Ah, uh…”

“Where I’d want to be, huh?” Meryl repeated. “Personally, I’d really love to have some vacations at the beach. Just spending my days lying on the sand and listening to the ocean…”

“Oh yes, vacations like that would be nice,” Stella added, followed by a heavy sigh. “If only we had enough money for that.”

“What about you, Rose?”

“I…”

Rose looked up at the two women in front of her, and smiled softly.

“I want to be here.”

Both Stella and Meryl stared blankly at her. “What?”

“I’m fine with where I am right now. I really don’t want to be anywhere else. Sure, it may be a pretty difficult life at times, but… I love this town, and this country, and all the people who live here. I love you two, and Richard, and Wayne, and all the ladies of Primavera. And… I would exchange it for nothing in the world.”

For some long seconds, a silence took place in the room — which made Rose anxious. Surely her answer wasn’t that weird, was it? But then, all of a sudden, the other two began to laugh.

“Wh-What is it?” Rose exclaimed. “Did I say something that funny?”

“No, no, that’s not it!” Meryl replied. “We’re not laughing at you. It’s just…”

“That’s such a Rose thing to say,” Stella continued. “Really, here we were, fantasizing about vacations at the beach, and you answer this kind of mushy tirade!”

“I-I didn’t mean to diminish your wishes,” Rose replied. “I mean, I think it’d be nice to have some vacations too…!”

“Nah, it’s cool, we get it,” Meryl said. “Actually… I think I agree with you. Vacations sure would be great, but… at the end of the day, I’m fine where I am right now. It may not be an ideal life, but it’s mine and I like it nonetheless.”

Stella didn’t say anything, but the wide smile on her face was more than enough to tell she shared those thoughts too. Meryl giggled again, and then she ruffled Rose’s hair in that big sisterly kind of way she often had towards the women of Primavera. Stella got closer to their madam before affectionately resting her head on her shoulder, and Meryl, sitting on the other side, imitated her.

The three of them stayed snuggled together like that for a quiet, peaceful moment.

Like a way to prove themselves that they were, indeed, all of them happy to be here right now.

Like a quiet prayer that their lives would continue as such, with all its ups and downs — but that, either way, they would always have each other’s backs.

[yutark]

— calls from home

< tw homophobia, negative thoughts, mentions of drugs and alcoholism >

When his phone rung from his bag, Yuta was expecting it to be Taeyong, or one of his other friends -- maybe his sister if she’d stayed up this late to greet him on his birthday. His steps scuffed towards his bag, digging into the pockets to pull out the device and his eyes blinking at the sight of his father’s contact name. Their contact had gone from calls every week at first, to once a month if they had time. Yuta had avoided the last two calls since he had returned from Japan with the intention to be sober. It takes a second for him to answer, pressing the phone to his ear as he sinks down and decides a break is necessary. His shoulders meeting the wall, waiting a second to hear a noise on the other end and then biting away the uneasy smile. A part of him truly believed his father would have forgotten his birthday by now, out of sigh and out of mind; a fact that pressed an ache into the top of his chest as he spoke.

“Hey Dad, whats up?” His voice softer than he intended.

There’s a surprise in his fathers voice. “Oh, Yuta? You answered. I thought you would be too busy, I was going to leave a message.”

He didn’t know if it was the mix of uppers and downer that he managed for the past week, but Yuta could feel the energy drain from his body by the time lunch came around and his agitation grew worse the darker it got. Not to mention the haze of disinterest that weighed on his mind and how shallow everything felt. But listening to his fathers voice, how he was going to leave a message for him and how no ‘Happy Birthday’ had come, twisted his heart for moments and Yuta found himself crossing his arms across his knees, burying his face into them. 

“Ah, really? I was just practising alone, and heard the phone. I thought it would have been Taeyong,” he confesses with a limp shrug of his shoulders, trying to ignore his tongue’s craving for blood to meet the water and for a fight to happen; stabbing that he had little expectations from the man on the other end.

It clearly worked, a sigh coming from his father on the other end and Yuta could feel himself sit higher, prouder at his ability. “That’s your boyfriend, right? Has he not called? It is a bit early, I was about to leave the office,” his father smooths over, the sound of papers shuffling reminding Yuta of how many times his father had been at the office when it was his birthday. A meeting that was more important than being there to greet him. “I wanted to call and say Happy Birthday. I hope your friends are going to be throwing you a party, your sister says you like them a lot.”

Yuta blinked away his frustration, thinking of how he’d turned down two invites to parties this weekend, and how he had decided against having his own. It was too exhausting, he had felt. Everyone would want to have alcohol and get drunk, an experience that he hated to be sober through and made him feel suffocated; strangled out by a want to lift up a bottle and have it on his lips until it was gone and the fear of everything he’d lose if he did it. Taeyong, being a trainee, his friends -- all of them slipping out of his fingers if he had even a drop of alcohol. The all or nothing mentality that had him furrowing his brow, digging his toes into his shoes and shaking his head.

“I’m not having one this year. I can’t.. It would be no fun,” Yuta muttered, fingers lazily curling through his hair and then combing it back. An attempt to cool off the agitation that was building up. 

“Ahh, right...” The sound of a man who was remembering the week of Yuta laying on the apartment floor, and burning his lungs out with smoke. “Then I hope you’ll be doing something fun with your boyfriend, I’m sure he has something--”

It takes only a second for Yuta’s head to jerk up. “I’m not doing anything for my birthday. Nothing is happening. I’m just going to train and go home, that’s it. It would be better if everyone just forgot it,” he snapped as his mind flooded with how the last few months had gone, from his punishment and suspension, to his fight with Taeyong, to struggling to comfort Donghyuck through his own sobriety, to Somi in his apartment with him and that was enough to cause the last year to rail through his thoughts. “I should go, I need to practice more.”

There’s his name on his fathers lips, concern dripping through the line and it stings Yuta more than it comforts him. His fathers uneasy breaths, the silence of full attention on him and the emptiness of the older man not knowing what to say, caving in to another sigh. They were never ones to talk about what was going on, a personality trait that Yuta had taken and run with; become a professional in by the time he was in his adolescence. Yuta could come with a thousand explanations and excuses for why he maintained and cemented in this trait, but sitting there, he could only feel the discomfort of knowing someone wanted him to talk and explain what was going on his head -- and all Yuta wanted to do was forget that he had any thoughts at all.

He expects his father to give in, to tell him to practice well, to look after himself, which is why he can barely restrain the scoff at what comes next.

“What’s going on Yuta? You can talk to me, you’re my son. Whatever it is, I’ll help you figure it out.”

Yuta quick to shake his head, a bitter laugh rolling from his tongue. He didn’t know why he was trying to fight the man, their relationship was one year into recovery, and yet, he couldn’t help himself. “Your son? I wasn’t your son for how long, three years? I wasn’t your son then. Was I even before that? Every time I fucked up, you just.. pretended I wasn’t there, didn’t you? Pretended you didn’t see it? Worked longer hours so you could avoid dealing with me, right? And now you’re talking to me, trying to leave me birthday messages and talk to me about my boyfriend? What do you even know about me? What does anyone even know about me?”

One foot digs in, knee rising and he’s preparing the next onslaught, catching his breath between attacks, and he nearly chokes on the next one when his father speaks.

“I’m sorry, Yuta. I... made a mistake. I made a lot of mistakes. But I’m trying--”

“Why bother trying? It doesn’t change anything, you still did it. You still did everything. You’ll just do it again.” The words come from his lips and his chest is hit full force, eyes suddenly burning with tears and his nose scrunched up to hold them in. It was the same argument he was having with himself, the same one that had him tossing and turning, the same one that pressed its hand to his throat and had forcing down the pills that made him feel worse in the long run. “All you’ll do is fuck up again, and hurt everyone again. That’s all you do. All the time.”

He hears another sigh, deeper and nearly taking Yuta in with it. It’s him, he’s the one who keeps doing the same thing. Everyone else was changing around him, everyone else was getting better and moving forward, and he was stuck, useless and repetitive. His forehead pressed to his arms, gritting his teeth. The feeling was overwhelming to him, water rising up over his head and he was holding his breath, desperately trying not to give in to the instinct to breathe.

“Yuta--”

“Why do I keep fucking up? I’m so tired of fucking up, I’m so tired of it being so hard not to fuck up -- what’s wrong with me? I just.. keep fucking up, and...” Yuta struggles to swallow down, breath harshly coming from his nose. “Letting everyone down. I just keep fucking up and letting everyone down. I don’t want.. I don’t know how to stop it--”

It’s the third time his father says his name that Yuta hears it, inhaling sharply and wiping his tears across the sleeve of his shirt. Trying to pretend that it was audible, that his father wouldn’t know. But its in the softness of his voice that leaves him unable to, the softness that covers over the sharp truths.

“You have to work hard to learn, to change, even if it’s not easy. You have to accept that you don’t know what you’re doing and listen to other people, even if you don’t like what you hear. Change is uncomfortable, but it’ll only be comfortable if you keep trying. With you...” There’s an awkward noise in his fathers throat, one that is exhaled away. “With you, I kept thinking that you would change first and come home. Then one year passed, and another. You were in that accident and got hurt, and I thought.. I could lose you. At any second. I could lose my son, because I couldn’t accept something about him. I thought I was doing the right thing the whole time, teaching you a lesson -- but trying to be right, only pushed you further away from me. I told myself I was protecting you, but how could I do that when we weren’t even talking?”

Yuta squeezes his eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to push his fathers voice out of his head and for a moment, even considering hanging up. He didn’t want to hear how hard it was for his father to disown him for being gay, he didn’t want to sympathise with the man who he blamed for his problems, and if it had been months before, he might have. 

“When we started to talk, I still didn’t understand. I didn’t understand why you chose to like.. other boys. Why you picked that for yourself. It was uncomfortable to listen to you talk about your boyfriend, because I still held onto the belief that I was right. It was difficult for me to see my son talk about another boy like he should a girl..” The pressure of Yuta’s teeth gritting together as he listens causes his jaw to ache, his head to throb with a new sort of pain; because it had been a game to him, making his father uncomfortable, seeing how far he could push the man before he broke and went back to ignoring him. “But I knew, I loved you, and you were my son, and even if it was difficult for me, it must have been harder for you. Except you smiled when you showed me pictures of him, or spoke about him. You were brighter and happier having this boy in your life. Even sometimes still, I feel discomfort. People ask about you, if you have a girlfriend or something else. But.. my discomfort, my difficulties, for you and your sister, and Eunmi, I want to overcome them.”  

“--it’s not that simple, I..” Yuta cuts in, feeling his frustration mount and the stumble over itself in his throat.

“How is it not that simple Yuta? Tell me, like I said.. I want to help you.”

He can’t say it -- he can’t say it because it’s uncomfortable, it’s uncomfortable to talk about, it’s uncomfortable to admit that he has a problem, it’s uncomfortable to accept the damage to his pride, it’s uncomfortable to bend to someone else, it’s uncomfortable, and he’s uncomfortable with the fact that he’s uncomfortable. Worse, is that he’s uncomfortable with that his father was right.

All he craves to do is deflect, make a joke, lighten up the air that’s suffocating around him.

“I’m an alcoholic, Dad. I.. If it’s not alcohol, I’m.. I’m doing something else. Breaking some poor girls heart, fighting someone over something stupid, taking something else -- I.. Are you happy? How are you going to help? I don’t want to have a party for my birthday because everyone I know drinks and I hate them when they’re drunk, they’re so annoying,” Yuta losing the air in his lungs quickly, coughing up the words and a weak laugh; the back of his hand wiping at his nose. “They all do stupid shit and get more drunk, and I.. I hate them for it. I hate being around them. But they’re my friends.”

There’s a silence over the phone, one that clenches and tears through Yuta’s chest quickly, his nose creased and nerves lashing with a flood of agitation. Almost about to speak again, call out to the man, when the other finally speaks again.

“I don’t know how to help. You’ve got me there, Yuta. You’re father can’t fix everything, but.. I’m here. I’m always here for you. I’ll do whatever I can.”

[kirachama]

sinners like us (saeran x reader, part iv)

summary:  For days there's been a boy in the hospital room next door who won't stop screaming. And, against your better judgement, you decide to find out who exactly this guy is.

rating: 13+ (707 route spoilers and secret end 02 spoilers)

notes: ahh, man this chapter. it was fun, and turned out longer than expected. there’s a lot of staring. i need more synonyms... please enjoy!! 

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

Something strange is going on.

You sneakily peek at Saeran, who, as usual, is just sitting on his bed. But instead of gazing at the sky outside the window, like you’re used to, his eyes are fixed on you. When you shift, you raise your eyes so that they meet his. For a moment, Saeran holds your gaze before moving his head to look outside. You watch briefly before turning your attention back to the partially folded crane in your hands. When you finish, you toss it in the jar and you grab another sheet to start on the next one. It’s at this moment you feel his eyes on you once more. The entire night has been like this: he’ll stare, you’ll look, then he’ll turn away, only to stare again once you’re attention is back on the cranes. You don’t quite understand why he’s paying so much attention to you. You’re fairly sure you look the same as you always do so it can’t be that. Part of you wonders if taking him to the garden has anything to do with it, but nothing really noteworthy happened there…

Although the memory of the closeness of his body and his warm breath tickling your ear when you were hiding from the guard is enough to cause your heart skip a beat.

You shake your head a little as if it will help you forget. And it does, but just a bit. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Saeran looking at you again. Feeling like you’ve had enough of this visual game of tag, you lightly glare at him, “What is it?”

Saeran looks away for a second, as if he’s debating, before turning back to you, “...what are those... things?”

You blink. Then you hold up the crane you've been working on. Is that really what he’s been wanting to ask all this time? “This?”

Saeran nods.

“It’s a paper crane,” you explain as you resume your folding. “Well, it’s going to be, anyway.”

“...why are you always making them?” Saeran then gestures to the half full jar on the table next to him. “Don’t you have enough?”

You shake your head, “No, I have only… around 350 or so? But I need one thousand in total.”

“Why?”

“...well, there’s a legend,” you explain softly, using your nails to define the creases in the paper. “If you make one thousand paper cranes a wish of yours will be granted.”

Saeran falls silent for a moment, but then when he speaks again his tone is harsh and dismissive. “...do you really think your wish will be granted by something like that?”

You’re not surprised in the slightest by Saeran’s reaction. It is kind of silly, after all, so you can’t blame him for not believing in such a thing. You give him a sheepish smile, “Well, you see… I kinda have a theory.”

You hesitate before continuing, “Wishes... work on a kind of point system. That’s why some wishes don’t get granted right away; you need to earn the points for them. And the way you do that is by doing stuff like wishing on falling stars, dandelions, birthday candles… Each of those actions is worth a certain amount of points depending on how often you can do it.  So you earn points and eventually, when you’ve earned enough, the wish gods cash in your points and there you go! Wish granted.”

Once you’re done with your little explanation the look on Saeran’s face only grows more severe. It’s clear that he thinks your theory is just a load of crap. Of course, he might be right since you really have no way of proving it.

“...so, to answer your question… I guess so. If I wish for something hard enough, then it’ll come true,” you falter a little at the end. “...at least… that’s what I want to believe.”

Saeran scowls at you, “...how stupid.”

“I… there's...” you start to try and explain yourself but the words get caught in your throat. You can’t help but feel hurt by Saeran’s words. It’s not like he’s wrong, per se, but to hear someone outright tell you that it’s stupid… Maybe he’s right, maybe it’s stupid to put so much hope into something that can’t be guaranteed, but… what else can you do? You swallow thickly, it’s got to be better than just doing nothing, right?

As the moments tick by, the air between the two of you starts to feel awkward and uncomfortable. It’s much earlier than normal, but part of you thinks that maybe you should just leave for the night. You stand up to hastily start to grab your things so that you can go, ignoring the somewhat alarmed look on Saeran’s face. Just as you’re about to grab the stuff on the side table Saeran reaches out and grabs you by the wrist.

“Wait.”

You look at him, confused and he stares back, those mint green eyes of his as unreadable as ever. When he doesn’t say anything else, you try to pull your wrist free, but his grip tightens just slightly.

“Saeran....”

He continues to look at you, as if he’s searching for something. Though for what, you’re not quite sure.

“Listen, I gotta-”

“Show me.”

“Huh?!” Show him? Show him what? It takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the cranes. “Show you… how to make them?”

He nods.

You give Saeran a dumbfounded look, “Didn’t you say it was stupid?”

Saeran scowls, but holds out his free hand. You’re not quite sure what triggered this sudden change of heart, but it doesn’t seem like he’ll relent. You gingerly pull one sheet of paper from the stack with your unrestrained hand and drop it onto his waiting palm. He slides it upward with his thumb so that he’s holding it between his fingers, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

You wait for Saeran to let or your arm, but when he doesn’t you wiggle it a little, “Um… I… can’t really show you like this.”

His eyes widen and he finally releases your wrist. You grab yourself a sheet of paper and sit back down, hesitantly scooting the chair so that it’s a little closer to him. Then you hold up the paper so he can see what you’re doing.

“So, um, you fold it in half horizontally, and then the other way…” you instruct, using your paper as a visual guide for him. “And then diagonally both ways…”

Saeran’s brow furrows as he tries to follow your instructions one by one. He manages to finish without too much of a problem and you both hold up your completed cranes. Having folded so many already yours is relatively perfect. Saeran’s, on the other hand… His face scrunches up with frustration as he compares the two. The one he made is a bit misshapen and you can tell that somewhere along the way his creases got misaligned.

“It’s okay!” you tell him in an attempt to comfort him. “My first ones looked like that too, so if you practice enough…”

Saeran grunts in disgust, staring at the imperfect crane in his open palm. Then, suddenly, he squashes it in his hand. You gasp and reach out, wrapping both hands around his fist.

“Saeran, don’t! You’ll crush it!”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s already messed up.”

“So?” you pry his fingers open one by one. “You shouldn’t smush it just for that…”

Saeran doesn’t say anything, as you free the crane from its prison. Now it looks more like a scrunched up candy wrapper than a crane, but you think you can still salvage it. Gently, you pluck it from Saeran’s hand and rub it between your fingers to loosen the kinks before smoothing it out. You manage to fix it so that it looks like it did before, though you can’t get rid of the wrinkles he made when he squished it.

You let out a relieved sigh, glad that the little crane wasn’t beyond saving, “Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll keep it. Is that okay?”

“Whatever.”

You smile a tiny bit and place it next to the jar. Saeran shoots you a confused look and you explain, “This one’s extra special, so I’m going to keep it to myself instead of putting it in with the thousand.”

Saeran’s cheeks flush a light pink hue and he holds out his hand yet again.

“Do you… want to try again?” you ask.

“What do you think?” Saeran asks in a deadpan voice. You can’t help but giggle a little. There's something cute about his childish behavior. He frowns slightly as you hand him another sheet, but doesn’t say anything.

“Okay then… let’s try again from the top…” you say in an encouraging tone. “So, first you gotta fold it half both ways making sure each side is perfectly even.”

Saeran makes no move to try and follow your instructions, instead he gives you an expectant look. The two of you stare at each other, both waiting on the other for something. Finally, you break the silence, “Uh… Saeran?”

“Where’s yours?”

“I’m just gonna focus on helping you make one this time,” you explain then gesture for him to go ahead and start. Saeran looks a bit apprehensive but he raises his hands and begins. He lines up the edges of the paper so that they match perfectly, but instead of folding the paper, his eyes flick upwards to meet yours. Thinking that he might be wondering if it’s okay to make the crease, you bob your head in approval. Then he carefully folds the paper, proving your guess right.

Saeran continues meticulously work at the paper crane, waiting for you to confirm each and every fold before he goes through with it. Because of that, it takes him more than three times longer than it normally would to finish, but the resulting crane is practically flawless. He holds the completed product up proudly.

“It looks great, Saeran!” you congratulate him with a wide grin. “Good job!”

Clearly he’s pleased that this one turned out much better the last and you notice the smuggest little grin tug at the corners of his lips.

And you wish you hadn’t.

(But the fluttery feeling you have in your chest tells you that you’re happy that you did.)

[kuriquinn]

Prompt/Fic Request [The Uchiha Truth]

Anonymous said:

I might be too late for the requests,but I was really excited because I love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write something about when sakura finds out about the truth behind the uchiha massacre (if I'm not wrong by the time the war ends she doesn't know because no one ever tells her) probably before sasuke leaves on his redeption journey. Thanks a lot!!

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

AN: So sorry for how long this took! Again, to make up for it, it’s going to be longer than just a quick one-shot. I feel like this is a topic that can’t be adequately handled in one chapter. Also, this thing is not edited and has no title for now, but hopefully I’ll have one soon :)

The sun is just beginning to set on the horizon, dipping into the calm water of Konoha’s river harbour. Sakura sighs, slumping back on the bench overlooking the bluff, imagining the tension draining out of her.

Her feet ache, her eyes are itchy from the mascara she dearly wants to wash off, and her stomach grumbles. As she dreams of the comforting softness of her bed, she tries to find the energy to stand.

Who knew that a bureaucratic position would be more physically and mentally draining than active duty?

She really should go home, but she knows the minute that she steps through the door, her mother will fret over her. Asking questions about the day, nagging her for not taking care of herself, wondering about her plans for the week, and she just…

Sakura just wants silence.

She didn’t realise when she was younger, but there’s something comforting about being able to be alone.

“Sakura.”

“Ahh!”

She almost jumps three feet in the air at the sound of her voice, having thought she was utterly alone. 

So much for silence...

Beside her, Sasuke appears to have materialised out of thin air. Knowing him, he probably did. She scrambles to her feet to face him, eyes flicking over his taller, gaunter form. He no longer walks around wearing a cape and turban, but there is still something about him that still speaks of a vagabond.

“Sas…Sasuke,” she stammers, flustered and wrong-footed and instantly reduced to her self-conscious younger self. “What are you…what are you doing here?”

She curses herself a moment later, wondering if it sounds like she’s criticizing him for approaching her. He’s been home for a week, and this isn’t the first time they’ve seen each other since he walked through the village gates, and yet she still must fight down the temptation to pinch herself when they interact. She dreamed of his return for so long that his presence retains a stubbornly dreamlike quality to it; worse, she’s not quite sure how to speak to him normally.

Then there’s the fact that their relationship is—

Well, she thinks to herself, I’m not even sure there is a relationship.

She suspects there’s something between them that is deeper than friendship, but beyond that she has no idea. Though she can read him easily in some ways, in others—especially the ways that concern her heart—he’s as mysterious to her as ever.

“Sai was looking up information for me with his old contacts,” Sasuke tells her, a little to her surprise; he doesn’t usually volunteer information. “He said he would meet me here this evening.”

Sakura frowns. “That’s weird. I ran into him on my way here. He was heading home with Ino and, uh, he didn’t look like he had any intention of going anywhere for the next few hours.”

Or possibly days, knowing those two, she adds mentally, remembering her friends exchanging looks of such simmering heat that Sakura blushed when she saw it. There was very little question of what they were planning when they got home.

Sasuke frowns at this—whether in displeasure or because he catches the innuendo, she isn’t sure—and says, “Hm.”

“I bet it just slipped his mind,” Sakura says, an apology in her tone; she’s used to apologising for Sai’s lack of social etiquette. “I’m sure he’ll find you tomorrow.”

“It’s no matter. I’ll go to his house,” Sasuke replies, turning to leave.

Sakura’s eyes widen.

Definitely missed the innuendo, then!

She trips over her tongue to say, “I-I-I wouldn’t do that, Sasuke!”

He pauses, turning incrementally to consider her, visible eyebrow creased in question. Clearly he’s awaiting an explanation.

“I mean…it’s probably not the best idea right now since he and Ino…uh…are sort of in their honeymoon phase.”

“Their…” Sasuke begins, and his eyes widen fractionally. He looks away quickly. “I see.”

“But it’s not a total waste of trip for you, right?” she asks quickly, trying to change the subject. “We can maybe...hang out? I haven’t seen you in a few days, and both times Naruto’s been around to—” Act as a buffer, she thinks, “—be the centre of attention. It’s been hard to get a word in edgewise, and I’ve…I’ve been thinking about you.” Running over that sentence in her head, she panics again, and adds, “I mean, about how you’re doing since you’re back! How are you settling in?” She nervously tucks her hair behind her ear. “I know it’s an adjustment and everything, being back…”

“I’ll survive,” Sasuke tells her shortly.

Sakura waits a beat for him to continue, then realises he doesn’t intend to, and tries not to let her shoulders slump so visibly. “Oh.”

Maybe he notices, because his blank expression smooths a little.

“I thought it would be worse,” he confesses, almost cautiously. “But it’s…not been too much of a burden.”

“Really?” she perks up. That’s actually high praise coming from Sasuke.

“Hm.” A barely noticeable nod. “And it’s not as if it’s permanent.”

The momentary brightness leaves her.

“What do you mean, not permanent?” she wants to know, a sinking feeling already forming in her gut. “I thought…I thought you were back now?”

“I haven’t made a final decision yet,” he tells her, shifting in what might be discomfort. “I may not stay in the village. Kakashi said there are jobs outside that need doing, or which require people with certain skills. That may be…more fitting.”

Sakura’s chest feels like it’s been on the receiving end of one of Tsunade’s punches. The hope she’s been entertaining of Sasuke and her future since he returned starts to freeze.

“I thought that you would stay from now on,” she says quietly, and when this doesn’t register she adds in a quiet voice, more to herself than him, “I guess it was just wishful thinking.”

She’s been telling herself for months that she’s not going to wait for him anymore. She wrote him a letter to tell him the same thing. It seems he took her words to heart, and she’s torn then between taking them back or sticking to them.

Sasuke appears to notice her distress, however much she tries to hide it, because he shifts to look down at her now, both eyes visible as they bore into her own.

“This has nothing to do with you,” he tells her, like a reminder. “I…have to see if I can even live in the village myself.”

“Why?” she asks, not able to hide her upset anymore. She decides not to beat around the bush. “Do you really not believe us when we’ve forgiven you? Or is it you still haven’t forgiven yourself.”

“That’s not the whole issue. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how? How is this complicated?”

“Sakura,” he begins, and she detects a note of frustration there that she hasn’t heard in years. “You know why I can’t—People don’t…the Elders…”

He trails off, scowling—she’s not sure if it’s at her or himself—like he’s trying to get the words out and can’t put them in the right order.

“The Elders?” she demands. “What do they have to do with any of this?”

“You know what they have to do with this,” he snaps.

“Who cares what they think?” she counters. “You’re a hero, and the entire world knows that, the entire village! And so what if some people are not sure what to make of you, everyone knows how you helped save us all!”

“I’m not talking about this with you,” he tells her firmly, and turns to leave. “I would have thought you’d understand—”

“Understand what?” she cries at his retreating back, fear and anger spiking because she is not doing this again! She refuses to stare at his departing back any more in her life. “Sasuke! Don’t walk away! I’m trying to understand, but you’re just getting angry, and I don’t know why—!”

“Of course you know why!” he snarls, whirling around, and though he doesn’t have his Sharingan active, she suspects it’s simmering beneath the surface of those fathomless eyes of his.

Maybe that’s why she can’t stop her flinch.

He notices it, because of course he does, and then stills. It’s as if his anger drains out of him as quickly as it came, and as the seconds pass by, staring at each other, an expression of dawning comprehension passes over his face.

Followed by wonder, confusion and astonishment.

“You don’t know,” he says slowly, and it’s both a question and a statement.

“I just said that,” she agrees, equally slow. Then it’s her that makes a confused face. “Know what?”

“Naruto didn’t…he and Kakashi never told you,” he says, quiet, like he’s processing.

“Tell me what?” she whispers, that dawning sense of dismay rising once more, although now it has nothing to do with the man standing before her. Instead, a childhood fear is coming back to haunt her with a vengeance. When Sasuke doesn’t answer, she firms her tone, lacing it with warning, and repeats, “Tell me what, Sasuke?”

He stares at her for several seconds, considering, and then motions for her to sit down. She’s so surprised by the gesture, which is utterly uncharacteristic and considerate for Sasuke, that she does.

Later, she’ll realise consideration had nothing to do with it.

Because when he quietly, haltingly, tells her the truth behind his brother and the Uchiha massacre, she feels fairly confident that her knees would have given out beneath her had he told her while she was standing.

Sakura feels sick.

The truths that Sasuke tells her wash over her, each horrible syllable falling on her heart like a searing iron. Everything about Itachi, Danzo, the Elders, the cover-up—

The darkest secret in Konoha’s history.

Little by little, she begins to understand the reason he lost his mind all those years ago. The facts that burned within him like fire, extinguishing reason and sense and bonds, driving him to the height of darkness in the final weeks and months leading to the war. It’s as if she’s finally found the missing piece of a puzzle, one that she gave up on looking for.

His final words to her before he left on his journey of redemption finally make sense to her, and she understands how much she can really never understand.

She wants to throw up, wants to cry and whisper apologies even though she knows they would be meaningless. Wants to rage and rant, expel her fury in some way, and yet in the back of her mind, she is conscious that the fact of Sasuke revealing this to her is a big deal. Sharing this with her, when he has never shared anything about himself or his family unless there was bloodshed involved, is a step she never thought he might take.

She cherishes that trust, wants to put him at ease—with her patients, the best way to do that is a smile, and yet she can’t because she knows it would be fake. He would notice—he was always the first to notice when her smiles were fake, even if he never commented on it—and so she can only watch him with the sympathy of one who can never truly understand.

There are no words she can offer, nothing she can say to make this right, and they both know it.

Sasuke pauses then, weighing the silence between them as he concludes his macabre testimony; it’s as if he’s trying to decide if he has left anything else out. The drawn, carefully blank expression on his face is the same one he always wears when trying to remain distant, like he’s treating the dark secrets of his family’s legacy like a mission report.

Her heart aches for him, that he has to do this; he has to talk about his family as if it’s something separate from him, because it hurts him.

Sakura reaches out then, unable to stop herself, and before he can pull away, she puts her arms around him.  She draws him close, fitting her chin on his shoulder and pressing them chest to chest. He’ll no doubt shrug her off in a second, because he never liked to be touched, but this is the only comfort she knows how to offer in the absence of words.

To her surprise, though, Sasuke relaxes. For a moment, she even imagines that he leans into her, like he’s not only given her permission to comfort him, but given himself permission to accept it. They stay like that several moments longer, before he does pull away.

Clearing his throat, he rises to his feet.

“I should go,” he says, all business once again. “If Sai is indisposed, I have to get my information another way.”

He takes a few steps before she finds her voice.

“Sasuke?” she asks, and he pauses. “Thank you. For…for telling me. I know it couldn’t have been easy. And the fact that you trust me with this it…it’s a lot…”

For a wonder he turns slightly, inclining his face so that he can study hers. She manages to muster up a smile, and this one is small and wobbly and sad, but at least it’s genuine. His eyes track the movement, studying her face, then he nods and continues on his way without another word.

When he is gone, Sakura’s smile fades and her eyes narrow.

Then, she turns on her heel and heads back into the heart of the village, all previous fatigue gone.

つづく

Phew! Long week! This may be my only update tonight, but I have the next chapter almost written. I sort of came home in a bad mood and vented that into this fic, so I have a lot of grammar/spelling stuff to fix next chapter before I put it up. So check back tomorrow 😊

As always, reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated! Also, if you are in a supportive mood , you can find my tip jar here.

クリ

Next Chapter

[amaranthkick]

A Wolf and A Raven, Part 3

a hint of angst, fluff, and some explanations

(Part 1), (Part 2)

Shiro waited patiently at the steps to the building while Lance locked up for night. Two sets of footsteps could be heard running towards them.

 “Shiro!” The wolf instantly alert, that voice! It was Keith, the young man in question was running at full speed and Pidge was not too far behind.

 Keith knelt down in front of Shiro a firm hand on his shoulder, his grip tight as if to keep Shiro from disappearing again. Keith has never been the most affectionate person but Shiro could appreciate that he was trying his best. He could practically see the relief in his eyes. The younger man genuinely smiled probably for the first time in a long time. “It's good to have you back.” ‘It's good to be back,’ Shiro would tell him later.

 Keith stood up and turned towards Lance hand extended. “You're Lance, right? Keith. Thanks for taking care of Shiro.”

 Lance accepted and shook hands with him and grinned, “it was no problem he's super sweet. And also he's amazing, he recovered real fast.”

 It was all Shiro could do to keep his jaw from dropping. No, it wasn't me. It was you Lance, I just know it. He would have slapped a hand to his forehead if he could. Seriously, was the universe taunting him with this enigma?

 He was startled from his thoughts when Lance laid his soft hand on his head, apparently he, Keith and Pidge had finished conversing and were saying goodbyes. “See you later, Shiro. Take good care of yourself.” Lance smiled at him but it didn't reach his eyes and his eyes seemed tinged with sadness. He got up and left a little too quickly. That left Shiro with a pang in his chest. He could hardly focus when Keith and Pidge told him to follow them. They mumbled something about a castle full of lions? But at the moment all he could think about was how much he missed Lance.

 Black gracefully landed on Lance’s shoulder and chirped at him when he was all too quiet. There was a faint painful tugging in his chest that served to only reminded him of Shiro. “Sorry, Black. I just… I know that it would be easy for us to see each other again since Pidge knows Shiro. But… I don't know. I don't know what's going on. I just- I miss him.” Black cooed softly as if to comfort him as Lance wiped his misty eyes with his sleeve.

 Lance had forgotten tonight was movie night with Hunk when he opened to door to find his best friend waiting for him inside.

 Hunk took one look at Lance’s sagging form, eyes glazed over with tears, and rushed over to envelop him in a big hug. Lance hid his face in his shoulder which muffled his sobs. Hunk shushed and rubbed soothing circles on his back. “Aww bud, what's wrong?”

 “I don't know. I think- maybe I got too attached.”

 Hunk hummed, this didn't seem to be like those times when a patient died. He wanted to ask for an explanation but he could wait for Lance to be more emotionally stable for him to talk.

 “That’s it bud, just let it out. And when you're feeling empty I'll make you all your favorite dishes so you can fill your body and soul with comfort food while we watch The Great British Bake Off.” Hunk held him tighter a sure sign of loyal support.

 Lance let out a wet laugh, “Hunk… have I ever told you are the bestest friend a guy could ever ask for?”

 “Only every day, Lance.”

 “Even though you're pretty nosy and high-key suspicious of some of the strays I feed.” Hunk huffed but didn't stop hugging him.

The castle didn't have much lions, a part of Shiro felt disappointed though he wasn't completely sure what he was expecting. There were only five giant guardian lion statues ‘guarding’ the entrance. He could appreciate their fierce yet regal appearance.

 Pidge went ahead to inform the princess of their arrival. Meanwhile Keith led him to a bathroom to change to the spare clothes he brought.

 Ahh, to be in his human form again, it felt freeing to stretch his tense muscles. The mirror across from him drew his attention. He felt so self-conscious at what was staring back at him. He changed so much, muscles and scars gained from fighting for his life.

 Shiro heaved a heavy sigh, it was no use to think that way and tried to change his train of thought. Naturally it went to Lance, would he be disgusted by his appearance? Nah, he wasn't afraid of his wolf form so maybe he still could hope. Would Lance be able to tell that he and the wolf are really one in the same?

 He jumped at Keith's voice sharply cutting in asking if he was done.

Keith led him to a large dining area next. Near the long table in the center of the room was a composed, regal young woman with long, cloud-like, white hair in an elegant dress. He took a wild guess and assumed this was the princess. By her side was an elder man also in blue, his hair a bright orange. His well groomed moustache stood out as well.

 What was most striking was their pointed ears and marks just above their cheeks. Elves perhaps.

 The lady greeted him first. “I am princess Allura of Altea and this is my royal advisor Coran. We heard much about you from your friends. I know you just escaped captivity and the last place you want to be is anywhere near the galra however I must apologize for being blunt but could we ask for your aid in taking them down?”

 She was someone who got straight to the point. Although even if she seemed composed on the outside, Shiro had a hunch she was seething with anger on the inside. The galra must have done something terrible to her too. He guilty thought about Sam and Matt. They and so many other must still be suffering. He nodded, mind made up he would help any way he can.

 Allura smiled, “thank you, I- Coran! What are you doing?”

 The dapper man in question was circling around Shiro hmm-ing to himself like a shark carefully assessing its prey.

 Something had caught his attention and it clearly bothered him. Coran started cautiously, “Pidge and Keith has told me that you are an unbonded familiar correct?”

 “I- yes..?” He was supposed to be. He thought that he kept himself well guarded, surrounded himself with lonely, desperate walls. The air got stuck in Shiro’s throat and suddenly the space around him felt heavier, colder as if he was in the presence of a wraith.

 Coran looked straight at Shiro. “My boy it seems you've bonded with someone.”

 Shiro felt like someone punched the air out of his lungs. His mind already looking at the worst case scenarios. Did the galra succeed in forcing a bond on him? Terrible memories he tried to force down quickly resurfaced. How, with some horrific experimentation, some forcibly bonded familiars would lose themselves only to become mindless, savage monsters. Will that happen to him as well?

 All too soon there were hands on his shoulders and people calling his name. He took in a sharp breath. Shiro realized he was shaking, on the verge of hyperventilating. He saw Keith and Pidge at his sides, concern on their faces. Their touch was grounding. Allura and Coran stood close also concerned.

 “S-sorry,” he hated how weak and fragile he sounded.

 “Don't be, you got nothing to be sorry for.” Keith said voice steady and firm. Though he looked ready to fight every galra he could find.

 Coran cleared his throat to grab Shiro's attention, he looked at the young man apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Shiro. I didn't mean to cause a panic over my observation. Maybe I should have said this earlier but you don't have to worry much, the person you're bonded to doesn't seem to be a galra.”

 “Huh?”

 “Well us Alteans are sensitive to magical energies, quintessence if you will, though that also includes life force energies. And from what I've learned about bonds from a multitude of research documents is that there is a partial sharing of energies between familiar and their partner so that they mix and resonate and empower each other. The foreign energy I sensed in you Shiro doesn’t feel like any galra I've sensed before. And I would know they have a distinct feel to them.” Coran pulled on the collar of his suit quite sure of himself.

 Shiro could feel shoulders slouch in sheer relief but his mind kept running. If he wasn't bonded to a galra then who was he bonded to?

 Coran chuckled, the tense air around him faded as he was no longer serious and went back to his uplifting, silly self again. “Actually, the energy I sense is quite warm. Radiant like sunlight yet gentle like pure moonlight. If you concentrate hard enough I think you could feel it too and try to see who it reminds you of.”

 Shiro saw everyone give him encouraging nods so he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt a tugging in his chest and tried to follow it. He saw bright light behind a silhouette of a person reaching out to him. This scene seemed so familiar. Shiro wracked his brain to remember and he nearly yelled when it hit him. It was the his dream he had the night he escaped.

 “What dream?” Keith asked. Oh did Shiro say that out loud?

 “The one I had at… Lance’s hospital…” Uh-oh, Shiro broke into a cold sweat as the pieces fell into place.

 Pidge connected the dots just as he did and it left her wide-eyed and gaping. “Oh my gosh, you bonded to Lance! Whoa cool down there Keith, Lance most likely doesn't even know he participated in a bonding. He doesn't even know or believe in this stuff.”

 Shiro was conflicted, one part of him was happy to be bonded to someone as kindhearted as Lance but the rest of him was terrified he might inadvertently drag him into this messy war with the galra.

 Pidge lightly squeezed Shiro’s arm a sly, teasing smile on her face already thinking of a way to cheer him up. “Hey, you know the rumors that humans can possibly gain magic powers by forming a bond with a familiar?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Guess you were right when you asked if he could use magic since he probably has magic now due to your bond.”

 Shiro gasped and squinted his eyes, “I knew it! I knew he was the reason I recovered so fast! He has healing magic!” He savored the moment knowing he was right all along. His chest puffed out a little internally pleased with himself.

(Part 4)

[russellthornton]

What to Text a Guy to Get His Attention: 25 Texts to Work Your Magic

Guys can be hard to read sometimes. No worries, because here is what to text a guy to get his attention. And keep his attention.

You might be thinking that getting a guy’s attention should be easy, but that is not always the case, especially via text. Guys are easily distracted and don’t always want to take part in a full-on texting conversation. So, here is what to text a guy to get his attention.

What NOT to text a guy to get his attention

Before we get into all the goods, there are some things you should certainly avoid texting a guy. Some just won’t work, while others may get you the wrong kind of attention.

And there may be no such thing as bad press, but there is such a thing as bad attention. Trust me, it is better to be off his radar than to be on it in the wrong way.

#1 Nude photos. This is just a straight up no. Just don’t do it. No matter how tempting, this is a lot riskier than you think it is. [Read: How to do damage control if your nudes get leaked]

#2 Lies. Don’t make up some big lie to get his attention. It isn’t worth it. If you have to lie to get his attention, you don’t really want his attention.

Plus, even if it were to work, it is likely you’ll get caught in the lie later. [Read: Little white lies that are okay to tell on a first date]

#3 “Hey. What’s up?” This is a very boring text. How would you like to receive it? It has no intrigue, uniqueness, or creativity. There is nothing to make you want to respond.

#4 Emojis. Emojis are fine, but trying to get his attention with the unicorn, the frown face, and a pizza feels juvenile.

#5 Double texts. You can say it is a glitch with your phone all you want, but I know you just want to make sure he got your text. You want to remind him you texted earlier and make sure he hasn’t forgotten.

Trust me, he hasn’t. But, even if he did, seeing a double text will surely deter him. [Read: Double texting and second texts – 6 simple rules to play it cool]

#6 A paragraph. If you are in the middle of a deep conversation, go ahead and send a novel, but if you are just texting to start a conversation a paragraph is not the way to do it.

Likely he’ll pick up his phone, see he has to read a persuasive essay and go back to Fortnite.

#7 Drunk texts. I don’t know whoever thought this was a good idea, but it is always regretful in the morning. And what’s worse is texting sober and pretending that you’re drunk texting so that you have an excuse for anything embarrassing you may say.

Not cute. [Read: How to avoid the awkward drama of drunk texting]

#8 Pretend fake texts. I am guilty of doing this quite often in high school. I would text my crush something that was clearly meant for someone else so I could text again and say, “Oops sorry, that wasn’t meant for you.”

That is not cute, it does not work, and it is just embarrassing.

#9 Gossip. Celebrity gossip is okay but reaching out to get a guy’s attention by either making up something or spreading gossip is not a good look.

#10 Asking why he hasn’t responded. As much as you deserve an explanation, you will likely never get it. Unless he magically says sorry I was working or asleep, you will just have to suffer from not knowing. Sorry.

What to text a guy to get his attention

#1 Memes. Ahh, what a great invention. Memes make everything so casual. You don’t have to admit you were thinking about him or come off too eager. Just text him a meme you thought was hilarious or that related to him. [Read: Unfake ways to be adored for who you are]

#2 Something relevant. Something that always worked for me when I was texting a guy from school or work is to bring up something relevant. “Hey did you get the last question of the homework?” or “I zoned out during today’s meeting, can you sum it up for me?”

This gives you a segue into a longer conversation, but won’t make him feel like you’re flirting or actually trying to get his attention.

#3 Hey sexy. And the opposite. If this is someone you have a romantic history with, this is a way to perk up his ears. [Read: How guys text when they like you – 15 things they do differently]

#4 I’m about to get food. Want to join? What guy or girl can say no to food? Seeing as it is last minute, it sort of requires an immediate response. If you know his favorite place, even toss that into the text to really get his attention.

#5 Have you watch the Game of Thrones finale? If you watch the same show or cheer on the same sports team, text him about it. He likely is dying to chat about that blowout or intense death scene.

Plus, now you have something to bond over down the line as well.

#6 I’m still smiling from our last date. Say it has been a few days since your last date, or even if it was last night, this is a smooth and honest way to get his attention. A decent guy will appreciate it. [Read: How to tell if a guy likes you through texting]

#7 You looked great in… that blue shirt last night, in your last Instagram post, etc. Give him a little compliment to boost his ego. Maybe he wasn’t sure how interested you were and didn’t want to be the first to reach out.

You have now given him an opening.

#8 I had a dream about you last night. I know this can go down a certain path, but if you’re okay with that, cool. This has actually worked for me on countless occasions. He will almost always respond, “Oh really? What happened?”

As long as you have an answer that can steer the conversation where you want it to go, you’re good. [Read: How to flirt with a guy over text – Everything you need to know]

#9 OMG. It is simple but effective. Three letters and he will likely be intrigued. Then if you take a few minutes to respond after he says, “what?” you have got his attention.

Tell him about the crazy traffic jam you were in, who you ran into at the bookstore, or the weird thing your dog did.

#10 Bring up something you talked about before. Do not beat a dead horse. Do not stir up your last conversation that died a slow painful death. Instead, bring up something you have had a successful conversation about before.

For example, “Remember how you said your sister wants to get into fashion? I just saw this job opening,” or, “Mumford and Sons are in town in two weeks!!!” You may even get a date out of it if you think it through. [Read: 15 ways to tell if someone likes you without asking them]

#11 This made me think of you. A meme, a weird appliance you saw at the store, or a hilarious bumper sticker. Being able to send photos via text makes getting a guy’s attention so much easier.

#12 Flirty selfie. NOT a nude, but a cute flirty smile and maybe a little cleavage should do the trick. Just remember to keep it tasteful and mysterious.

You can show him your outfit today and ask if he thinks you look cute. Rock a new hairstyle and ask him what he thinks, or just send a selfie saying you’re feeling yourself today and wanted to show him how good you look. Everyone loves confidence. [Read: How to text a guy without seeming overly needy and desperate]

#13 Ask for his advice. I always get pulled into a text when someone asks for my opinion or advice, so my thought is that if he cares, he will too. Ask him what team to bet on. Or maybe ask him which Netflix series to watch next.

#14 You missed the wildest night. If you want to get his attention because he hasn’t messaged you in a while, make him feel a little bad about it. I know, I know, it isn’t the most mature move, but it works.

Tell him how he missed the coolest show the other night at a club near you. Or tell him about something super fun you did over the weekend and add in something like, “too bad you missed it.” [Read: 20 sure reasons a guy could be ignoring you]

#15 Nothing. If none of these things get his attention and he hasn’t texted you, just let it be. I’m sorry to have to say this, but if he hasn’t texted you in a reasonable amount of time, he may just not be into you and you deserve better.

Plus, don’t you want a guy whose attention you don’t need to get via text? Don’t you want a guy trying to get your attention?

[Read: How to ignore a guy ignoring you and regain the power]

You better not still be wondering what to text a guy to get his attention. I am sure one of these worked, and if not, move on to greener pastures.

The post What to Text a Guy to Get His Attention: 25 Texts to Work Your Magic is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.

[kuriquinn]

The Last To Know [One-Shot]

Summary:  As usual, telling her the truth happens as though by afterthought. And this time, she's not taking it.

Disclaimer: This story utilises characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelisations, comics or short stories is intended by KuriQuinn in any way, shape or form. This fan-oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All plot and Original Characters except for those introduced in the canon books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn. (© KuriQuinn 2016- )

Warning: Spoilers for pretty much everything up to Sasuke Shinden.

Canon-Compliance: As close to canon as fanfiction can possibly be. With a few personal additions :P Takes place during the Blank Period.

Beta Reader: Sakura's Unicorn

The sun is just beginning to set on the horizon, dipping into the calm water of Konoha's tiny river harbour. Sakura sighs, slumping back on the bench overlooking the bluff, imagining the tension draining out of her.

Her feet ache, her eyes are itchy from the mascara she dearly wants to wash off, and her stomach grumbles. As she dreams of the comforting softness of her bed, she tries to find the energy to stand.

Who knew that a bureaucratic position would be more physically and mentally draining than active duty?

She really should go home, but she knows the minute that she steps through the door, her mother will fret over her. Asking questions about the day, nagging her for not taking care of herself, wondering about her plans for the week, and Sakura just wants…

Sakura just wants silence.

She didn't realise it when she was younger, but there's something comforting about being alone.

"Sakura."

She almost jumps three feet in the air at the sound of her name, having thought she was utterly alone. "Ahh!"

Beside her, Sasuke appears to have materialised out of thin air. Knowing him, he probably did. Sakura scrambles to her feet to face him, eyes flicking over his taller, gaunter form. He no longer walks around wearing a cape and turban, but there is something about him that still speaks of a vagabond.

"Sas—Sasuke," she stammers, flustered, wrong-footed and instantly reduced to her self-conscious younger self. Honestly, she thought she was over this! "What are you…what are you doing here?"

She curses herself, wondering if it sounds like she's criticising him for approaching her. He's been home for a week, and this isn't the first time they've seen each other since he walked through the village gates, and yet, she still must fight down the temptation to pinch herself whenever they interact. She dreamed of his return for so long that his presence stubbornly retains a dreamlike quality to it. Worse, she's not quite sure how to speak to him normally.

Then there's the fact that their relationship is—

Well, she thinks to herself, I'm not even sure there is a relationship.

She suspects there's something between them that is deeper than friendship, but beyond that she has no idea. Though she can read him easily in some ways, in others—especially the ways that concern her heart—he's as mysterious as ever.

"Sai was looking up information for me with his old contacts," Sasuke tells her, a little to her surprise as he rarely volunteers information. "He said he would meet me here this evening."

Sakura frowns. "That's weird. I ran into him on my way here. He was heading home with Ino and, uh, he didn't look like he had any intention of going anywhere for the next few hours."

Or possibly days, knowing those two, she adds mentally, remembering her friends exchanging looks of such simmering heat that Sakura blushed when she saw it. There was very little question of what they were planning when they got home.

Sasuke frowns at this—whether in displeasure or because he catches the innuendo, she isn't sure—and says, "Hm."

"I bet it just slipped his mind," Sakura says, an apology in her tone. It's almost second nature for her now, apologising for Sai's lack of social etiquette. "I'm sure he'll find you tomorrow."

"It's no matter. I'll go to his house," Sasuke replies, turning to leave.

Sakura's eyes widen. Definitely missed the innuendo, then!

She trips over her tongue to say, "I-I-I wouldn't do that, Sasuke!"

He pauses, turning incrementally to consider her, visible eyebrow creased in question. Clearly, he's awaiting an explanation.

"I mean, it's probably not the best idea right now since he and Ino, uh, are sort of in their honeymoon phase."

"Their h—" Sasuke repeats, and his eyes widen fractionally. He looks away quickly. "I see."

"But it's not a total waste of trip for you, right?" she asks quickly, trying to change the subject. "We might...hang out? I haven't seen you in a few days, and both times Naruto's been around to—" Act as a buffer. "—be the centre of attention. It's hard to get a word in edgewise, and I've…I've been thinking about you." Running over that sentence in her head, she panics again, and adds, "I mean, about how you're doing since you've been back! How're you settling in?" She nervously tucks her hair behind her ear. "I know it's a change and everything, being back."

"I'll survive," Sasuke tells her shortly.

Sakura waits a beat for him to continue, then realises he doesn't intend to, and tries not to let her shoulders slump so visibly. "Oh."

Maybe he notices because his blank expression smooths a little.

"I thought it would be worse," he confesses, almost cautiously. "But it's…not been too much of a burden."

"Really?" she perks up. That's actually high praise coming from Sasuke.

"Hm." A barely noticeable nod. "And it's not as if it's permanent."

The momentary brightness leaves her.

"What do you mean, not permanent?" she wants to know, a sinking feeling already forming in her gut. "I thought…I thought you were back now?"

"A final decision hasn't been made yet," he tells her, shifting in what might be discomfort. "I may not stay in the village. Kakashi said there are jobs outside that need doing, or which require people with certain skills. That may be…more fitting."

Sakura's chest feels like it's been on the receiving end of one of Tsunade's punches. The hope she's been entertaining of Sasuke and her future since he returned freezes.

"I thought that you would stay from now on," she says carefully, and when this doesn't register, she adds in a softer voice, more to herself than him, "I guess it was just wishful thinking."

She's been telling herself for months that she will not wait for him anymore. She wrote him a letter to tell him the same thing. It seems he took her words to heart, and she's torn between taking them back or sticking to them.

Sasuke appears to notice her distress, however much she tries to hide it, because he shifts to look down at her now, both eyes visible as they bore into her own.

"This has nothing to do with you," he tells her, like a reminder. "I…have to see if I can even live in the village myself."

"Why?" she asks, not able to hide her upset anymore. She decides not to beat around the bush. "Do you really not believe us when we say we've forgiven you? Or is it that you still haven't forgiven yourself?"

"That's not the whole issue. It's more complicated than that."

"Complicated how? How is this complicated?"

"Sakura," he begins, and she detects a note of frustration there that she hasn't heard in years. "You know why I can't—People don't—the Elders…" He trails off, scowling—she's not sure if it's at her or himself—like he's trying to get the words out and can't put them in the right order.

"The Elders?" she demands. "What do they have to do with any of this?"

"You know what they have to do with this," he snaps.

"Who cares what they think?" she counters. "You're a hero, and the entire world knows that. The entire village! And so what if some people are not sure what to make of you, everyone knows how you helped save us all!"

"I'm not talking about this with you," he tells her firmly, and turns to leave. "I would've thought you'd understand."

"Understand what?" she cries at his retreating back, fear and anger spiking because she is not doing this again!She refuses to stare at his departing back any more in her life. "Sasuke! Don't walk away! I'm trying to understand, but you're just getting angry, and I don't know why!"

"You do know why!" he snarls, whirling around, and though he doesn't have his Sharingan active, she suspects it's simmering beneath the surface of those fathomless eyes of his.

Maybe that's why she can't stop her flinch.

He notices it, because of course he does, and then stills. It's as if his anger drains out of him as quickly as it came. As the seconds pass by, staring at each other, an expression of dawning comprehension passes over his face. Followed by wonder, confusion and astonishment.

"You…don't know," he says slowly, and it's both a question and a statement.

"I just said that," she agrees, equally slow. Then it's her that makes a confused face. "Know what?"

"Naruto didn't… He and Kakashi never told you," he says, quiet, like he's processing a difficult realisation.

"Tell me what?" she whispers. A familiar sense of dismay creeps over her, although now it has nothing to do with the man standing before her. Instead, a childhood fear is coming back to haunt her with a vengeance. When Sasuke doesn't answer, she steels her tone, lacing it with warning, and repeats, "Tell me what, Sasuke?"

He stares at her for several seconds, considering, and then motions for her to sit down. She's so surprised by the gesture, which is utterly uncharacteristic and considerate for Sasuke, that she does.

Later, she'll realise consideration had nothing to do with it.

Because when he quietly, haltingly, tells her the truth behind his brother and the Uchiha massacre, she feels fairly confident that her knees would have given out beneath her had he told her while she was standing. As it is, Sakura feels sick. The truths that Sasuke reveals wash over her, each horrible syllable falling on her heart like a searing iron. Everything about Itachi, Danzō, the Elders, the cover-up—the darkest secret in Konoha's history.

Little by little, she begins to understand the reason he lost his mind all those years ago. The facts that burned within him like fire, extinguishing reason and sense and bonds, driving him to the height of darkness in the final weeks and months leading to the war. It's as if she's finally found the missing piece of a puzzle, one that she gave up looking for.

Sasuke's final words to her before he left on his journey of redemption finally make sense to her, and she understands how much she couldn't have understood then.

How much she can never really understand.

She wants to throw up, wants to cry and whisper apologies, even though she knows they would be meaningless. Wants to rage and rant, expel her fury in some way. And yet, in the back of her mind, she is conscious of the fact that Sasuke revealing this to her is a big deal. Sharing this with her, when he has never shared anything about himself or his family unless there was bloodshed involved, is a step she never thought he might take.

She cherishes that trust, wants to put him at ease. With her patients, the best way to do that is a smile, and yet she can't because she knows it would be fake. Sasuke would notice. He was always the first to notice when her smiles were fake, even if he never commented on it. And so, she can only watch him with the sympathy of one who can never truly understand. There are no words she can offer, nothing she can say to make this right, and they both know it.

Sasuke pauses then, weighing the silence between them as he concludes his macabre testimony. It is as if he's trying to decide if he has left anything else out. The drawn, carefully blank expression on his face is the same one he always wears when trying to stay distant, like he's treating the dark secrets of his family's legacy as a mission report.

Her heart aches that he has to do this, he has to talk about his family as if it's something separate from him, because it hurts him. Sakura reaches out then, unable to stop herself, and before he can pull away, she puts her arms around him. She draws him close, fitting her chin on his shoulder and pressing them chest to chest. He'll no doubt shrug her off, because he never liked to be touched, but this is the only comfort she knows how to offer in the absence of words.

To her surprise, though, Sasuke relaxes. For a moment, she even imagines that he leans into her, like he's not only given her permission to comfort him but given himself permission to accept it. They stay like that several moments longer before he does pull away.

Clearing his throat, he rises to his feet.

"I should go," he says, all business once again. "If Sai is indisposed, I have to get my information another way."

He takes a few steps before she finds her voice.

"Sasuke?" she asks, and he pauses. "Thank you. For…for telling me. I know it couldn't have been easy. And the fact that you trust me with this, it…it's a lot…"

For a wonder he turns slightly, inclining his face toward hers. She manages to muster up a smile. It's small and wobbly and sad, but at least it's genuine. His eyes track the movement, studying her face, then he nods and continues on his way without another word.

When he is gone, Sakura's smile fades and her eyes narrow. Then, she turns on her heel and heads back into the heart of the village, all earlier fatigue gone.

サクラ

Sakura takes her time heading to the Hokage's office, going over what she intends to say once she's standing before her former teacher and teammate. She plans to ask in a mature manner, to learn the whole story from them as well. Kakashi, being Hokage, likely has access to records about the incident. He can clarify certain points she's having trouble with, and if Naruto is around, he can…

She swallows, a stabbing pain in her throat, her heart beating a rapid rhythm against her neck, a rushing in her ears as a horrible truth looms over her. It pales in comparison to what Sasuke told her about his brother and his family's deaths, and yet, it's making her lungs constrict and her stomach rebel once again.

She's angry and helpless; she doesn't know how to help Sasuke, or who to be mad at. She needs to do something, even though it's all in the past and can't be fixed. But there is something that she can deal with right now. Something that she thought was dealt with long ago. Something Sasuke's confession has revealed to her that it wasn't.

No, she tells herself firmly. Breathe. Keep emotions in check. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm a shinobi.

As she walks into the Tower, she remains calm and composed. Perhaps the clerks and civil servants scurrying around might note her unusual lack of smile, but they don't sense the slowly unravelling ball of emotion hidden inside. Her presence is common enough here that no one expects her to make an appointment, and she walks into Kakashi's office without even having to knock at the door.

Everything is, so far, going according to plan.

Until she looks around the room and sees Kakashi going over mission briefs with Naruto, who is complaining loudly, the way he always does. And for them, today is no different from any other day. They are coping and living with the knowledge Sasuke has imparted to her without another thought.

And that's when her plans go out the window.

Literally.

It happens too fast for her to be entirely aware of herself. One minute, she's closing the door behind her, and the next, her fist is colliding with Kakashi's chest.

She curbed her strength—mostly—so he shouldn't have any damage that a competent healer couldn't fix, but it's too fast for him to get a substitution to take the full brunt of her blow. He and his chair go flying through the windows and wall behind him, throwing up a huge plume of dust.

"What the hell, Sakura?!" Naruto cries, grabbing hold of her from behind. The air around him crackles, like he isn't sure whether he should be entering his Tailed Beast Chakra Mode or not.

She shrugs him off with ease. Distantly, it occurs to her that she may have committed treason for assaulting the Hokage, but somehow, she can't seem to care

"Three years," she replies in a cold, furious voice.

"…huh?"

"Three years, you've been lying to me."

"What are you talking about?!"

"The Uchiha," she bites out through clenched teeth. "Itachi Uchiha."

Naruto doesn't understand right away, but as the seconds of silence tick by, he begins to pale with realisation. "Sakura, we couldn't—"

"Don't."

"The fewer people who knew—"

"Don't you fucking dare," she growls.

"Sakura." Kakashi has popped back into existence beside them, looking a little bruised, and eyes more sombre than she's seen in a while. He waves a dismissive hand at several ANBU who are peeking inside until the three of them are standing alone. He waits until they are gone before continuing, "This was to protect the peace of the village."

"To protect murderers," she spits.

"If you think about it, we didn't lie to you," Naruto begins, "we just didn't—"

"Don't. Lie. To Me. Again."

Kakashi sighs. "The omission was necessary, especially so soon after the war."

"Maybe if I was finding this out a few months after the war, I'd believe that," Sakura says, still deadly quiet and trembling. "But it's been years, Kakashi."

"This wasn't a piece of gossip, Sakura, it involved the security and stability of Konoha."

"Did you expect that I was going to tell someone?"she snarls. "Me? I'm the last person who would reveal anything that could harm Sasuke or Konoha in any way!"

"Sakura—"

"I am the only student you ever trained that had the necessary skills and steadfastness to achieve jōnin rank," she goes on, drowning him out. "Apprentice to the Fifth Hokage which, I'm sure you of all people know, requires a certain amount of discretion. Head of Konoha's hospital. Personnel and patient files are all rather confidential, wouldn't you say?"

"Sak—"

"Hell, long before any of that, I was kidnapped and beaten for information while my idiot teammates were nowhere to be found and I didn't give it up because I would rather die first!"she bites out. "If your justification is that you thought I was too much of a security risk to tell me that the village—"

"We never said that!" Naruto protests loudly.

"YOU LET ME BELIEVE A LIE FOR THREE YEARS!" Sakura's voice cracks painfully and she swallows, having difficulty breathing for a moment. Tears threaten to fall, but she fights them back, because today of all days will not be the day that she cries. Because she is Sakura Fucking Haruno, and the twelve-year-old weepy child she used to be has been nothing but a memory for years now. "You let me think Sasuke was…"

"Sakura—"

"He thought I knew already," she whispers, and watches them both freeze. "He thought you two told me. You know why he might've thought that?" Naruto's expression is aggrieved, Kakashi's resigned. They know what she's about to say. "Because you're my friends. Before we're teammates or compatriots, or students and teacher…we're friends." She inhales shakily. "And he thought you would've told me the truth. Never even occurred to him that you wouldn't. That I wouldn't have all the same information that you both did. Because we were friends."

"We are friends!" Naruto protests.

"Are we?"

"We were trying to protect you."

"I don't need your fucking protection!"Sakura shouts, managing to keep her volume down this time, but only just. "I am not a little girl anymore! I've watched men bleed to death in front of my eyes and held beating hearts in my fingers, trying to fix them! I am a hero to villages that don't even have names. I am the reason half of the people in this village aren't dead or orphaned! I have birthed babies, and killed assassins, and walked into battle to fight by your side, so don't you dare try to tell me you still think I need to be protected!"

"Of course, we don't—"

"I tried to kill the man I love with because I thought he had to be stopped for his own safety, as well as the safety of others, without even questioning why. And there was an actual reason for what he did, and it wasn't just because of some thousand-year-old curse!" she cries. "He tried to kill me because he thought I knew and was in on it! And we both have to live with that memory now! Forever!"

"Your relationship with Sasuke doesn't give you clearance to know all the village's secrets, Sakura. Even Naruto isn't privy to all of them—even I'm not, sometimes," Kakashi says quietly, clearly trying to keep some sense of his position. And while she understands that, she still resents it.

"But Naruto could know about this?" she challenges. "A genin who failed every test related to secrecy and subterfuge that we ever took, before he became the village hero?"

"Hey!" Naruto says in an injured tone.

"You're trying to subtly remind me about keeping this impersonal," she continues. "Fine. Then let me point out that, according to the village rules, your successor is a shinobi of a lower rank than I am—saviour of the world or not. As his superior, you're not according me the respect and merit of my station. The information I received today is something I should've known since I became a jōnin because my job is to protect the village from threats. Not knowing has kept me from pursuing that purpose."

Kakashi's eyes narrow. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Why have the Elders not been removed from their positions?" she counters. Naruto frowns in confusion at the segue, but Kakashi follows without a problem.

"Sakura," he begins, a warning note in his voice.

"No," she cuts him off. "If Danzō planned all of it, they knew. And they didn't stop him. People died, Kakashi! Our people, and one of our own was forced to do it! Do you think a pretty plaque in a graveyard makes up for that? That is not justice."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Because they continue to be involved!" she snaps. "How many times has their behaviour led to more problems that've almost destroyed Konoha from within? For fuck's sake, we never needed to worry about outside enemies with them around! And yet, they retain their positions, their income, and the respect of the village, while Itachi is just a name carved on a block of stone. And Sasuke is going to spend the rest of his life a pariah because he was trying to get justice for what they allowed to happen?"

"Sakura—"

"No, I'm not done," she interrupts. "Everyone thinks Itachi's being honoured because of what he did when he was resurrected by the Edo Tensei—and don't even get me started on how dangerous men like Kabuto and Orochimaru have all-but been pardoned for their actions after everything. But the truth about Itachi goes deeper than that! If Sasuke's brother hadn't acted, Konoha would've been reduced to ashes thirteen years ago! It's his name that should be taught in our schools or put up on statues, not Danzō or the Elders or the people who almost caused the destruction in the first place!"

"I don't disagree with you on any of those points," Kakashi sighs. "But they can't, Sakura. For the sake of peace. If people thought that those in positions of power in the village—the same individuals they put their trust in to protect them—could be capable of what they did, it would destabilise the government. We may be in a recovery period, but it's still fragile enough that I'm not sure we could survive if that happened. I'm sure you understand this."

She clenches her fists, frowning at him, because her logical mind knows that he's right about that point, at least.

"Something still has to be done," she insists.

"And it will," Kakashi promises. "But it will take time. I can work within the shadows and make the political moves necessary, but the push for change has to come from the people. Between you and Naruto, I'm sure you can figure something out. But it won't happen overnight. It could be months, or it could be decades. It's what's known as a long game."

She crosses his arms.

"We'll figure something out," Naruto repeats, in a soft, placating voice. And though she knows he means it, and that he probably won't rest until this problem is fixed, the discord in her heart doesn't abate.

"None of that excuses the fact that neither of you told me the truth," she replies. "And Kakashi…I can understand you not saying anything. But you, Naruto?"

"It wasn't… We weren't sure if…" Naruto hedges, while Kakashi just looks uncomfortable.

That ever-growing suspicion sets in with a bitter twist in her gut.

"You didn't think Sasuke wanted me to know," she realises. Her voice feels very far away from her when she asks, "Why? Because of village secrecy? His pride? Or because he doesn't care about me the way I care about him?"

"No!" Naruto cries. "That's not it at all!"

"I know our connection isn't as strong as the one between you two," she admits, the words scraping against her throat as she says them. She's always suspected Sasuke had more regard for Naruto than her, but to have it confirmed that others think the same is still a difficult pill to swallow. "I might not be the reincarnation of his family, but I am his friend. And if I never have anything else, I'll always have that. And on that fact alone, if you two knew…I should have, too."

"We thought you were better off not knowing," Kakashi says. "You're a healer, Sakura. You want to make people feel better. And this is something you can't heal. We've both seen how you take it to heart when you can't help. We believed we were sparing you that."

"Again with the protecting me bit?" she questions, shaking her head. All of a sudden, the fight goes out of her. "I see. To you, I will never be anything but that little girl who trailed after everyone like a puppy." She clenches her eyes tight, still fighting back angry tears. "How can you say you're my friends, if you can't trust me with information like this? Sasuke did. If the person who has distanced himself from me for my entire life can show me that respect, why can't you two?"

She turns to leave.

"Sakura, don't go!" Naruto cries. "Let's talk about this!"

"No. You should've talked before," she retorts. "Now, you're going to wait for me to decide to talk to you. I…need some time to think about this. And about what it means for my future."

"Your future?" Kakashi echoes.

"I need to decide if I want to continue to serve a village that doesn't trust me with something so vital," she whispers, "and if I should keep friends who don't, either."

Before either of them can stop her, she uses a Shushin to escape the stifling office.

サクラ

Sakura is shaking after she leaves the Hokage's office, both with anger and a little fear.

She's nervous about her outburst, keeps running over the entire thing in her head. She's never lost control like that, not really. Even when Kakashi was her instructor and did things she was critical of. Even with Naruto. They've had arguments, but she's never…

She's never attacked her teacher in anger before. And she's never lost her temper to the point of vulgarity.

Did I go too far?Sakura wonders, rubbing her upper arms self-consciously. Or not far enough?

Sakura has always been guided by her heart and what feels right to her. It's only in recent years, being so close to Lady Tsunade and the running of the village, that she's had to think more with her head.

And I never was really good at that anyhow, she thinks glumly. Images come back to her of a bridge and a knife, hateful scarlet eyes and a woman with glasses bleeding out in front of her. Every time she has tried to make a decision where her head and her heart disagreed, no good has come of it.

Right now, her heart insists she did right, but her brain keeps running over all the logical arguments against her actions. She hasn't felt so conflicted since the war, and it's dizzying. She needs to take a step back from it somehow, to release the growing, painful pressure inside her before bursts.

Her first instinct is to go to Ino, but she knows she can't. As yet, this is all still utterly secret. She can't reveal anything about Itachi to Ino. She could, however, mention being kept in the dark by her other former teammates.

Except...

Except her best friend is at home with Sai right now, enjoying newly-married life. Sai, too, is one of Sakura's closest friends, so she doesn't want to overshadow his newfound happiness with her black mood. Especially considering his own past—he deserves as much uncomplicated joy as life has to offer him.

Sakura's mother would be her next choice. But the thing is, Mebuki Haruno has a blind spot when it comes to Kakashi and Naruto. Considering Kakashi is the Hokage and Naruto is the hero that saved them all, she's taken on a tendency to agree with them about everything. And she knows Sakura well enough to infer that Sasuke is somehow involved. Mebuki has never been overly fond of Sasuke after he defected from Konoha, to put things mildly.

She'd say they were right to keep it from me,Sakura thinks, clenching her fists. She can't blame her mother, not really. A parent's duty is to protect their child. Mebuki's feelings on the matter would be totally justified simply because she's never been on the frontlines or fought beside Sakura. Intellectually, her parents know what Sakura is capable of, but they've never seen it first-hand. And they weren't there to see the obstacles she's overcome to achieve the power she has now. Not in the way Naruto and Kakashi were. They are the people who should know better, and yet…they still don't.

Lady Tsunade would set them straight,Sakura thinks angrily. She would know… A horrible thought occurs to her. Did Lady Tsunade know?

She's the Fifth Hokage, and she's a Senju. It would make sense for her to know what happened. And what Tsunade knows, Shizune usually knows as well, at least in Sakura's experience. If they were both privy to the information, is there any chance they might not have told Sakura? Lady Tsunade has always shared Sakura's mother's opinions about Sasuke, and she can be just as overprotective.

No. No, they would've told me,Sakura insists. Based on what Sasuke said, only a handful of people ever knew the truth. Only Lord Third, Danzō Shimura and Obito Uchiha. The latter was the reason Naruto found out, along with Kakashi and Yamato. They were on the way to the Kage meeting when Obito, still masquerading as Tobi, let them in on the secret. Sakura remembers all too well that, during that time, Lady Tsunade was out of commission.

Besides, she never got along with the Elders or Danzō. She's the last person they would've told about this, even before the attack on Konoha. If she didn't think to look into the matter, she wouldn't know, Sakura reasons. So Shizune wouldn't know either.

Unless, at the end of the war, there was some sort of meeting to agree on keeping Itachi's deeds and Konoha's involvement in the massacre from public knowledge.

In that case there's a very small chance…

That pained feeling in her chest and throat is back, like a knife. Sakura tries hard not to feel the mounting sense of betrayal, but it's hard. She wishes more than anything that she could go to her mentor right now and ask her about it. But Tsunade is out of the village on one of her gambling binges, while Shizune's spending a few days at Konoha's orphanage, trying to make sure all the children are up-to-date on their vaccines and physicals (and because she still doesn't trust Kabuto, probably to keep an eye on him). Both are too far away to ask.

Under normal circumstances, this would be the point where Sakura goes to talk to Naruto or Kakashi but considering they're both contributing factors in the whole situation, it's not an option.

As for Sasuke…

No.

She can't bring this up to him, not after he entrusted her with such a horrible truth. Her feelings of being kept in the dark cannot compare to what he endured, and bringing this situation up to him now feels disrespectful. As if her pain at being left out once more could ever mean anything in the face of what he lost? She's not so arrogant as to think she matters that much in the big scheme of things.

This shouldn't be hitting me so hard, she chides herself. After all, it is in the past, and isn't this time of recovery all about forgiving the sins of the past and working toward a better future? She should just shrug this off as a fait accompli and move on.

But the treacherous little voice in her head keeps whispering to her, What if they keep doing it?

In the face of that, she can't help the overwhelming hurt. It's as if something is broken inside her, but nothing as simple as a bodily wound that she can mend.

She usually burns that feeling off with physical activity, and she desperately wants to go out and destroy a training field or two—to feel the earth shatter and break beneath her, and watch solid rock become dust between her fingers. But that would attract attention and people wondering and she just needs…she needs to do something. To remind herself that she isn't useless. That she isn't the waif who cowers while Sasuke throws his body in front of her because she's too weak, useless and inferior to defend herself. She's no longer the damsel with snot and tears running down her face while Kakashi naively promises her that everything will be alright and Naruto vows to bring Sasuke back.

I amnotthat girl anymore,she growls to herself.

In that moment, she decides where she needs to be right now, and makes a determined beeline for the hospital. Upon arriving at her place of work, she takes a breath and, as always, lets the outside world slip away at the door. She strides into her office, where her intern, Ando glances up in surprise, and before he can ask why she's back so soon, she interrupts him.

"What's the next operation scheduled?"

"Uh…Isamu is doing a double kidney transplant on the dextocardiac patient in fifteen minutes—"

"I'm scrubbing in on that," she tells him. "He can have the next one."

"But—"

She strides out before he can complete his protest, heading for an operating room.

Sakura very rarely wields her influence to jump the queue on cases, but she needs to stay busy, and she thinks that today of all days she deserves to push her advantage a bit.

Over the course of several hours, she schedules procedure after procedure, taking the lead on the most complex and challenging cases—the ones that need her constant presence and attention. In the midst of her work, she's able to forget the uncertainty, and hurt, the memory of the useless child she was. Here, she is head medical ninja of Konoha, disciple of a Legendary Sannin and a hero of the Fourth Shinobi War in her own right. She battles with death every day and, more often than not, wins. People here look up to her, defer to her knowledge, and listen to her recommendations.

Naruto, of course, finds her soon enough, being as meddling as ever. While Sakura walks across the courtyard to consult on a possible case of Chakra Virus, he appears in front of her, determined and repentant.

"Sakura, I'm sorry. I swear, we didn't—"

"I'm working, Naruto," she tells him flatly and keeps walking. "Please leave."

"But you need to listen!"

"I need you to respect my wishes," she replies. "Since it's clear you don't respect anything else."

"That's total bullshit and you know it!" Naruto yells, frustration and worry in his voice. For once, though, her immediate reaction isn't to try to calm him. "Just because of this one thing—"

Sakura turns around then, her hand snapping out and grabbing Naruto by the collar of his jacket.

"This is my place of work," she growls, a flare of anger bleeding through the carefully constructed façade of business she's lost herself in for a few hours. "I am saving lives right now, and I don't have time for your interruptions while people could be dying. Now, leave on your own, or I will break every one of your bones so thoroughly that even with your healing abilities, you'll still be stuck on bed-rest for a month."

She experiences a minor burst of gratification at the way Naruto goes pale beneath his whiskers and vanishes in an instant, but it doesn't make her feel any better. Like his apologies, his misery feels hollow to her and does nothing to satisfy the hurt.

When she returns to her wing of the hospital, she gives Ando and all the other staff warnings that she's not to be disturbed by friends or family while she works. It's not the first time she's ordered this, so they don't argue. She has a trusted support network among her colleagues, all of whom know better than to question her at this point.

While cleaning up after a successful limb-reattachment, a new intern that she doesn't know very well approaches her.

"Sakura-sensei, the Hokage requires your presence," she tells her shyly.

Sakura says nothing and reaches for the nearest chart and begins to glance over the particulars for her next case.

"Should I tell him you're on your way?"

"No."

"Oh…um…so, you'll be a little late?"

"No."

"Oh." She pauses. "What...what should I tell him?"

"Nothing."

The girl isn't quite sure what to say about that, but Sakura glances up and says, "That'll be all, Wakana. You have rounds."

She barely registers the intern's puzzled expression as she heads off to her next appointment.

For another seventy-two hours straight, Sakura pushes herself from one procedure to another, elbow-deep in blood and viscera one moment, or painstaking research and experiments in the skills lab the next. She survives on caffeine and soldier pills, focussed on the problems she can solve. She doesn't have to think about her injured heart while healing a broken pelvis.

Of course, she knows she can't go on like this.

Eventually, she starts to feel the exhaustion of using so much brain power and chakra without a respite. Even though she has a large reserve and could conceivably go on for days, it's irresponsible to do so outside of a combat situation. Besides, being at work is no longer distracting her the way it should. Her thoughts and worries are beginning to bleed back through, and she knows she'll have to face them sooner or later. Kakashi will only accept her ignoring his summons so many times, and Naruto won't be deterred by her threat much longer.

Truthfully, she's surprised she hasn't seen him at all since their encounter days ago. She suspects Kakashi might be keeping him from bothering her because he at least understands the need for space.

Ando eventually makes the vague, roundabout suggestion that she head home to sleep and relax—he curbs his usual bluntness by not telling her that she smells, though she suspects she really should shower soon—and Sakura finds herself giving in. She's too tired to argue, apparently.

As she leaves the hospital, she pauses, dim and sluggish, too tired to think too much. It's why she's pretty sure that she's dreaming when she notices a familiar figure waiting across the street.

Sasuke leans against the building opposite the hospital, a living shadow on an otherwise bright and cheerful street. And she instantly knows he's waiting for her, even though he's never done so before.

It should bother her that he's watching her, looking as unruffled and untouchable as always. And she's probably got circles under her eyes, the remnants of caked-on makeup, and she doesn't remember if she brushed her hair or teeth this morning. But somehow, it doesn't really matter to her right now, the way it once would have. It's still the most natural thing in the world for her to change her course and head toward him. His presence doesn't erase her exhaustion or her inner turmoil, but it does cause a fluttering sensation or anticipation in her stomach.

After stewing in her self-constructed isolation for a few days, she'll take it.

サクラ

The closer she gets to Sasuke, the more effort Sakura makes to muster up a smile. As mentally and physically tired as she is, she will never not be overjoyed to see him. Besides, it's not as if he's the type to notice that sort of thing anyhow.

Once they are within several feet of each other, though, his eyes flit across her face and he frowns. "You look tired."

For all the blunt delivery, she senses an undertone of concern in his voice. This more than anything makes her smile more genuine.

"I'm fine," she waves it off. "I worked a few doub—er, triple shifts. It's nothing I haven't done before." He raises an eyebrow at this, and she insists, "I just need to have something real to eat and a short nap. Then I'll be good to go for another straight week, if I have to." She hopes her boast doesn't sound as manic to him as it does to her. When he doesn't remark on it, she decides it didn't. "It's nice to see you," she says a beat later. "You look…I mean…how are you?"

"Fine." He doesn't elaborate, but she didn't really expect him to.

The silence hangs awkwardly between them.

"Was there something you needed?" she asks after half a minute of this. As cheered as she is by his presence, she knows from experience that Sasuke doesn't come to see her unless there's something he needs from her. He's not the sentimental type, after all. With him it's function and duty above everything.

"Kakashi and Naruto are concerned about you," Sasuke states. "You've been avoiding them."

Sakura tenses at this. Instantly, a bolt of pain shoots through her heart. Of course, Sasuke wouldn't come to see her of his own volition, but because Naruto or Kakashi asked him to. That phantom pain is quickly backed by a stab of annoyance that her former teammates got him involved. It was exactly what she was hoping to avoid.

"It's been busy at work," she dismisses. "I can't always get away when I'm in the operating room, you know." She begins to walk away. For once, she half-hopes he won't follow her. When he does, she can't decide if she's irritated or not.

Still, she doesn't want to talk about her issues with Naruto and Kakashi with him, especially not considering what they stem from. Instead, she goes on to relay what she's spent her day doing, explaining all the procedures she carried out and the injuries she healed. Her enthusiasm is half-genuine, half-manic, and she doesn't dare take a breath. For the first time since they were kids, she takes advantage of his silence just to fill it, trying to make it seem like she's not upset.

They wander down the street together, separated by barely two feet. Normally, she'd be over the moon about this, thrilled to spend time with him and bask in his attention, but the sour feeling in her stomach won't abate. The pretence that everything is all right is like a fog, and she barely takes in any of their first walk together. She's not even sure where they're headed, simply following her feet.

Does Sasuke think she's bringing them in somewhere in particular? If he does, he'll soon realise she has no destination in mind, and leave. Maybe she should let him know it's all right to leave if he wants to. She stops them, ready to do just that, opening her mouth—

And then abruptly shuts it as their surroundings become clearer to her.

The entrance to Konoha's graveyard looms behind them, the summer breeze rustling the neatly trimmed grass around the monuments. Sakura blinks, and then blurts out in genuine confusion, "Did I bring us here, or did you?"

Sasuke doesn't reply, instead gazing among the distant rows with an unreadable expression. It looks like her attempts at deflection didn't distract him after all. She mentally scrambles to play down the whole affair.

"Sasuke…you don't have to… It's fine. I don't want to make this a bigger deal, especially considering…everything. Ugh. They shouldn't have gotten you involved—"

"They should have told you," he interrupts. It's so surprising that her mouth snaps closed with a click, her eyes flitting toward his face. There's an irritated expression there, but she has a presentment that it's not directed at her. "I understand why they didn't, but they should have. Out of everyone…you should have been someone who knew."

"I…" She doesn't actually know what to say to that. Her eyes feel tight, and there's a tickle in her nose that suggests oncoming tears, but for the first time all day it's not hurt or anger that makes her want to cry. The fact that Sasuke of all people would say this to her…

"Thank you," she manages finally. "Coming from you that…that means so much."

He shoots her a funny look, like he doesn't understand why.

"You're one of the saviours of the world," she reminds him. "If you don't think I'm too weak to handle the truth, they have no excuse either."

"You're not weak, Sakura," he tells her, turning to face her. "You're the strongest person I know."

Blood rushes to her cheeks, making them burn, and Sakura tries to untangle her tongue to respond to that. On the one hand she knows that can't be true, because they've both witnessed what Naruto can do. But on the other hand, Sasuke has never been dishonest with her. He has never told her anything that he didn't truly believe. He isn't a man of tact, or the type to spare another person's feelings. If he said it, he must think it's true.

"Next time, punch Naruto instead," he goes on, as if he commented on something as factual as the weather. "Preferably before he becomes Hokage, so it won't cause another civil incident."

"I didn't cause a civil incidentthis time."

"You did enough to merit my usual ANBU detail suddenly making a beeline for the Hokage's office."

She bristles, but it's more at the notion that even though he's long been cleared of his crimes, Sasuke still isn't completely free while at home. Kakashi said it was a temporary measure until people are more used to seeing him around the village, but it seems counterproductive to her.

If people knew the whole truth, would that be any different? Now that she knows, it's even more unjust. Maybe that's yet another reason they didn't tell her.

Sakura clenches her fists as her thoughts come full circle.

"How do you do it?" she asks eventually, staring through the entrance again at the beautifully polished memorial stone. Flowers and incense offerings are arranged around it as always. Sasuke doesn't answer, but she senses his gaze upon her; the silence rings like a question. "Knowing the truth. Knowing what it cost, and them still hiding it?"

She wouldn't blame him if he chose not to answer, but after a beat he exhales heavily.

"I would rather the Uchiha be remembered as loyal to the village that Itachi loved than be remembered for plotting against it," he says at last.

"No. Not that. That I…I understand. I hate it, but I understand it."

Sasuke digests this, and then prompts, "Then do what?"

"How do you forgive people you care about for keeping the truth from you?" she asks. "People you trust and love and who you know just want to protect you. But by doing that, they make you hurt worse and feel…insignificant." It sounds pitiful when said out loud like that, especially in comparison to everything else, but Sakura was never able to just cast aside her feelings, however mundane.

This time Sasuke's silence is quiet and conteomplative, instead of confused. When he answers her, he sounds uncomfortable, "I'm not the right person to ask that."

"You're the only person that I trust right now who would know," she tells him seriously, finally looking up at him. She's startled to find that he's already watching her—how long has he been doing that?—but then abruptly looks away again.

"Hold on to the knowledge that they really want what's best for you," he tells her simply.

"That's it?"

"You could cut yourself off from everyone, but that's not a path for everyone."

Sakura scowls at him. If she didn't know him better, she'd assume he was attempting to be humorous. Then she sighs, letting go of some of the tension that's been holding her together the past few days, and looks back at the memorial stone.

"I feel crippled," she confesses. "Like, if they had said something, that all this time, I could've been doing something to make sure the past doesn't repeat itself."

"You are."

"Huh?"

"Was that not the purpose of the children's mental health clinic?" he asks. "To ensure what happened to Naruto and Kakashi and myself wouldn't happen again?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then you are," he affirms with something resembling finality in his voice.

Discussion over, I guess. She marvels a little at how Sasuke can see the world in such simple terms when it comes to certain situations, while in others, he operates with logic that she can't even follow. Probably the same complex logic that had Itachi do what he did,she thinks, half-saddened and half-impressed.

She considers the memorial stone in the distance again, and the way Sasuke is lingering beside her, and then something occurs to her.

"Did you…are you going in?" she asks. "Do you want to be alone for that? I mean, if you're leaving again soon, you probably want to say goodbye alone."

"I…won't be leaving right away, as it turns out," he says, and there's a strange waver in his voice she doesn't think she's heard before. "Kakashi asked me to test Konoha's barrier for weaknesses. My dōjutsu makes me the best candidate for it."

"Oh," she says. "Well, that's nice! So, you'll be around a little longer, right?"

"A few days, at least."

She beams at him.

"I'm happy to hear that," she says. "Maybe I'll see you around then. I mean, around the village. When I'm not at work, of course."

"Hm." He seems very at ease now, losing some of his distance, and the old hopeful part of her, the one that refuses to give up, decides to test her luck.

"And…maybe we could…get something to eat?" she suggests. When his eyes slide to her, she quickly adds, "Something that's not ramen. There's a new restaurant in town that does hamburgers. Have you ever had them? What am I saying? You probably have." She laughs nervously. Oh gods, someone make me stop talking!"Or if you're not hungry, maybe we could just…go for a walk? Today was—" She makes a face. "Well, it was depressing. But the end was nice. Maybe we could do that again sometime and just catch up. I'm sure you saw some amazing things when you were travelling, and I'd love to hear the stories…that you could tell me…I know most of it's classified, but—"

"We could spar," he suggests.

The rest of Sakura's sentence dies in her throat, and she blinks. "Huh?"

"Before I left, you asked if we could spar," he says quietly, not looking at her. In fact, he seems very interested in something directly in front of him.

It takes her several seconds to understand what he's talking about, before she remembers a conversation they had right before he left Konoha.

"I've heard accounts of some of the techniques you're capable of using in combat. I'm curious to see if I could counter them," he goes on. His eyes slide to her. "If you're not busy at the hospital, of course."

Excitement courses through her, replacing the dolorous emotions of the past few days, because Sasuke has never asked to spar with her. She quickly adopts a serious, confident expression, smirking at him. "You're going to get your ass handed to you."

Sasuke snorts.

"We'll see about that next time," he tells her, reaching over and poking her forehead with his index and middle finger. Then he turns and starts to walk away, leaving her staring after him in confused elation. "And if you're going to kill him, try not to do it so close to the cemetery."

"Huh?" she asks, reaching up to touch the place where his fingers brushed her skin. Sasuke's been doing that a lot since the end of the war, apparently his way of showing affection. She tries not to read too much into it that she's never seen him do that to Naruto or Kakashi.

"Sakura!"

Her blushing musings come to an abrupt, crashing end as a familiar voice shatters the sombre silence of the cemetery.

Within a blink of an eye, Naruto skids to a halt in front of her, face sweaty and red from exertion, shoulders heaving as he pants for breath.

Sakura frowns in speculation, gazing at the spot where Sasuke just stood, and where Naruto has appeared. If they were still genin, she might suspect Naruto of engineering some kind of trick on her—masquerading as Sasuke to gauge her mood before approaching her. Except…the things that Sasuke said to her were too personal and too specific for Naruto know about. Even if he were pretending, he wouldn't think to say those things.

So, the timing is justreallycoincidental…

Suddenly, Sasuke's words make sense and a rare jab at annoyance for her other former teammate pricks at her. He probably felt Naruto coming this way and decided to leave them to talk. Sakura wonders if it's actually a good thing that Sasuke is more aware of the world now than he was when they were kids. He never used to care if she and Naruto were fighting.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I am so sorry!" Naruto wails, throwing himself on the ground in front of her and actually bending his head to the ground in dogeza. "I will never do anything like that ever again, and I'll tell you everything I know from now on—except, well, things that I tell Hinata, because there's some stuff you can only tell your wife, you know? Well, no, you don't, because you don't have a wife—but everything else!"

"Maybe not everything," a mild voice adds, and of course, Kakashi is standing nearby, appearing too swiftly and silently for her to notice. Unlike Naruto, he isn't prostrating himself on the ground, but he holds himself at a polite distance from her, as if waiting for permission to approach.

Naruto glances up at Kakashi, with a confused look, then his eyes go wide in understanding.

"Right! And except for some of the Hokage stuff, because I can't," he tells Sakura. "But other than that!" He then ducks his head toward the ground again. "And if I do it again, you can beat me until I can't move, or rip off my arm again, or…or force feed me vegetables, just as long as you forgive me!"

On anyone else, this would be irreverent and behaviour unbefitting of the crime, but she can hear the desperation in his voice, despite the hyperbole.

"Us," Kakashi corrects quietly. "Though it would be unseemly for your Hokage to get on his knees in front of a civilian."

"Yeah, right. You're just worried you'll break your back or something, old man," Naruto quips.

Sakura considers them both for a long moment, feeling as if her innards are churning. It's been days, but the wound of being kept in the dark is still fresh. She knows she's not ready to forgive them completely yet.

"Leaving a friend in the dark is the same as leaving them behind," she tells them in as neutral a voice as she can manage, trying to put her thoughts in order. Both men wince at the very personal implications behind that statement. "You know…you knew all I ever wanted was to stand beside you. To be acknowledged and treated like I was on the same level. Since I was a girl, I wanted that more than almost anything, and you…you both treated me like a child. No, worse—a stranger who wasn't trustworthy enough or mature enough to handle the truth."

"This particular truth has done more harm than good to those who know it," Kakashi responds quietly.

Sakura inclines her head, acknowledging the validity of that, but with no intention of letting him off with the official party line.

"When has holding back the truth ever done any of us favours?" she counters. "Was Naruto better off not knowing why the entire village hated him as a child?" Kakashi's jaw clenches beneath his mask. "Were you better or happier not knowing who your parents were?" she goes on, addressing Naruto directly as he slowly sits back on his haunches. "That was to protect you, right? Are you grateful to the people who kept that information from you?"

"That's…" Naruto begins, twin spots of angry colour burning in his cheeks.

"What about Sasuke? How much of his life was wasted hunting revenge over something he thought was truth…all because a certain someone was trying to protect him?"

"Those are all extreme examples, Sakura," Kakashi warns.

"Maybe. But they didn't start off that way. They all started with the simple need to protect someone. And in the end, the people who were supposed to be protected were busy hurting in the dark," she insists. She squares her shoulders. "I understand that my not knowing the truth about such a horrible situation isn't as serious as having an entire village hate you for something you can't control, but it was still a breach of trust. Especially because what you two and Sasuke think of me…it's always mattered more than what anyone else thought. And the idea that you don't trust me makes me feel physically sick."

She has to pause here, fighting a re-surging lump in her voice, uncertainty at being so direct once again making her falter a bit.

Hold on to the knowledge that they really want what's best for you, Sasuke told her, and she does.

The seriousness of their behaviour is not diminished in any way, but she knows it wasn't done out of malice or calculated intent. In their ignorance, they continued a behaviour that she never clearly asked them to stop. They ought to have known better—Kakashi especially, being that he is usually more perceptive—but still they only wanted to keep her from unpleasant knowledge. She is not so petty or frail as to walk away from such a close friendship based on one indiscretion, but they have to know that she won't tolerate it again. Sakura looks up at the sky, carefully weighing her words, and the nods to herself.

"I won't be treated like wallpaper by you guys anymore," she vows, glaring at them both challengingly. Her eyes linger on Naruto. "I am your equal. Maybe I'm not the ancient reincarnation of a demigod like you or Sasuke…and maybe I didn't come back from the dead or master a thousand techniques like you, Kakashi-sensei." She nods at him. "But I am just as important. It's time you both acknowledged that in action and not just words."

Her sensei inclines his head at this, agreement written in his eyes.

"The three of us are the students of the Sannin—you, me and Sasuke," Sakura tells Naruto. "But more important than that, we're Squad 7. We're Kakashi's students. We've been a team since the bell test."

Naruto can't help a nervous, nostalgic chuckle at that.

"If I don't have all the information, I can't be an effective part of that team," Sakura concludes. "And when that information is something that's hurt a member of my team? A dear friend? What else can I imagine but those bonds weren't as strong as I thought they were?"

"No way!" Naruto cries. "You know how strong our bonds are, Sakura. We couldn't have done everything we did if it wasn't. Even before the war." He scrambles to his feet, gazing down at her with eyes softened by regret. "You've always been one of the people I care about most. The best thing that ever happened to me was being put on a team with you and Sasuke—and you were at least nice to be around. Sasuke and I would be dead a hundred times over if you hadn't been there keeping an eye out for us, even before you got all scary strong. And, yeah, sometimes we forget, but it's only because we love you. And you shouldn't have to worry about the hard stuff if you don't have to."

"That's not how it works, Naruto," she replies quietly. "We're adults now. We've lived through war. I know just as much as you do that the world isn't a very nice place. Do you think when I work in the hospital, all I do is prescribe medication and wave my hands over people and make them feel better? I have to sew up bloody wounds, and tell people they're dying—little kids who haven't even reached the Academy yet! Sometimes, I have to sign papers to remove children from abusive homes, or force poison into someone's system on the off-chance it might make them better. I have to operate on criminals just to make them fit enough to stand a trial where they will probably be executed anyway. None of that is easy or good or right, but I have to do it."

She turns to Kakashi, who's been listening in silence and challenges, "Will you try to protect me from that, too?"

He sighs, shaking his head.

"You've made your point, Sakura. And I don't disagree. But some matters are more delicate than others. As your Hokage, all I can promise is that I will do everything legally possible to ensure proper information dispensing. As the highest-ranking member of the team that took out Kaguya Ōtsutsuki, you are entitled to be informed of relevant information on your comrades, and I'll ensure you have it as soon as possible," he tells her. A beat later, the official-sounding tone disappears in favour of something more sheepish than she's used to Kakashi using. "But as your former teacher, you'll have to forgive me if it takes a little longer to remember these things. For me, you three will always be my adorable students. I will always want to protect you."

"Okay, hold on. I know why that applies to Sasuke, but when was the last time you protected me?" Naruto scoffs.

"You haven't been arrested for any of the graffiti incidents yet," Kakashi points out.

"…right."

"It's a start," Sakura acknowledges, too used to the by-play to pay it much attention. "I can accept that it's a start."

His eyes crinkle in a smile.

Sakura turns to Naruto and frowns at him. "If you ever pull something like this again—"

"I know, I know," Naruto interrupts, holding up his hands as if to stave off some invisible blow. "I got the message when you punted Kakashi-sensei through the window. You'll flatten me or turn me into a stain or paste or—"

"No," she says. "I won't.'

"You…you won't?"

"No."

"Oh." He looks confused.

"But I will never speak to you again," she informs him. The line is a childish one, something not out of place in the Academy courtyard, but the words ring with promise, the weight of the threat as edged as a declaration of war. "You, or Kakashi-sensei. And I'll put in for a transfer to another village."

She turns to Kakashi now, raising an eyebrow as though waiting for him to protest, but he simply looks thoughtful.

"There are a lot of places in the world that need talented medic-nin. I'm already doing them a disservice by staying here in Konoha when I could be out there helping the people who need it. We aren't at war anymore, so I'm not bound to serve Konoha's interests alone, but the well-being of all people in the world," she explains. "If it turns out that I'm not trusted here by my friends and comrades, or by my own superiors…" She shrugs. "Kankuro's been trying to get me to come to work for the hospital in Suna for months now. I've been considering a temporary exchange for the good of the hospital's teaching program, but I can easily make that permanent. And Karui tells me that the Raikage is conducting interviews for a new chief of staff at the hospital in Kumo."

"But…but you can't," Naruto looks perplexed. "You're a Konoha-nin."

"My life doesn't depend on this village, no matter how much I love it," Sakura says. "And with all the work the Kage are doing to promote trust between the villages, it's not so difficult to travel these days. Honestly, I might still leave to travel the world for a little, someday. But my coming back will depend entirely on what kind of village is waiting for me."

She let's that sink in, and from Naruto's chagrined expression, she knows he's taking her seriously.

"This will always be your home," he tells her, "and I promise, I'll make it a village—no, a city—worth being proud of. There won't be any more secrets from you. Ever. Believe it!" And then, in a move she hasn't seen in years, he holds out arm in front of him, parallel to the ground, fist clenched. "I promise."

In her mind, an image from her memories—a short, stupid -looking kid with blond hair and an orange jacket—superimposes itself on the picture that Naruto makes now.

I won't go back on my word! That'smy ninja way!

Sakura smiles, a little wistful, but without the bitterness of the past few days.

"Alright," she says. Then she turns serious again. "But it's still going to take some time. I'm still not happy about all this, and I haven't completely forgiven you yet. So, don't be surprised if I avoid you both for a little while because none of this is okay."

"That's fine," Kakashi says. "We can be patient." Naruto groans, and he amends. "I can be patient. And I can bury Naruto in enough paperwork that he's forced to be patient."

"Hey!"

"Don't think you can joke your way out of this," Sakura warns, shaking a finger at her former instructor. "We are going to talk about the situation with the Elders, because that is not going to continue. We owe it to Sasuke—we owe it to the entire village to untangle that particular snarl."

"No arguments from me!" Naruto grins. He rubs at his nose. "Hey, I have a great idea! How about, to seal this whole deal, we go get some ramen?"

"…You really don't understand the concept of giving people space, do you?" Sakura sighs.

"You're surprised by this?" Kakashi counters.

"I bet if I send a clone to grab Sasuke, he'll come with us," Naruto continues, apparently not hearing them. "It'll totally be like old times! And, hey, maybe Teuchi will extend my free ramen pass to you guys, too. I mean, you sortof helped me save the world, and it's the first time in ages we've been able to sit together, so maybe…"

Sakura allows Naruto's ramblings to wash over her. She wasn't lying when she said things were not completely forgiven. Trust is not something so easily regained with a few words. She suspects it will be months, perhaps years before she can be around them without a modicum of doubt rising up, whispering to her that they still think she's weak.

But Sasuke thinks she's strong.

And more importantly than any of that, she knows she's strong. She will get through this.

And she'll show Kakashi and Naruto just how serious she is tomorrow when she demands a formal investigation into corruption on the part of the Elders. It's sure to stir up conflict among the village's government, but if there's anything Sakura's teammates have taught her, it's that change doesn't happen unless someone makes trouble.

Naruto was the pest that made people believe. Sasuke, the menace that made them forgive.

Let's see what I become, she thinks to herself with a confident smirk, following the two men away from the cemetery.

終わり

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome, but if you feel like keeping me caffeinated out of the goodness of your heart, it certainly would be appreciated! I’m also starting to post original works to my patreon.

I’m only able to keep writing as I do thanks to the support of readers like you, so every bit helps!

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