#sasuke doesn't get ir right away

[kuriquinn]

Metamorphosis

Summary:  It’s been four years since Sarada quietly, haltingly confessed to Sasuke and Sakura over dinner that she – he – was not a girl. [Day 13 – Prompt: “It’s A Boy” ]

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- )

Rating: T

General Warnings: I can’t believe I need to have a warning for this, but we live in a time where people can be horrid little monsters. There are LGBTQ themes in this story. There is a transgender character, and the story deals with some of concerns and difficulties that families, especially parents, of a transgender child deal with. If you are uncomfortable with this subject matter in anyway, you are welcome to click the “back” button and wait around for my next prompt. Nasty comments about my choice in subject matter will be ignored, and possibly mocked.

Trigger Warning: For those of you who actually are LGBTQ, this story may bring up some strong emotions. The person who proofread this for me had some difficulty reading this chapter as it hit on some of his own experiences and challenges coming out as transgender. He made sure I knew how important it was to tag this appropriately. Though he said this story was well-written, as someone who had dealt with the scenario personally, he didn’t like it. So if you have experienced something in your life where you are caused distress by reading about parents trying to come to terms with their transgender child do not read this story. I don’t want to cause mental anguish or reopen wounds that some of you might not have had a chance to heal yet.

Author’s Note: The minute I saw this prompt I knew this was the story I was going to write. There aren’t enough fics out there dealing with transgender kids coming out, and even fewer about what the parents (even the most supportive ones) go through behind closed doors. I’ve done my best to be delicate with the subject without sacrificing any of my usual style choices. Obviously, not every experience is the same from individual to individual, but I made every effort. And just to head off any comments about my own personal stand on the matter: I support transgender individuals and their rights. I believe that it is your mind and your soul that determines who you are, not your genitals. And while I am not perfect, and I still occasionally slip up with pronouns and accidentally say things which show my privilege as a cisgender woman, I stand by the transgender community. Especially in this time, when hatred and outrage are directed at across the entire world. The views expressed in this story are not all necessarily mine – in fact, there are several ideas that were difficult for me to put to paper, because I very much don’t agree with them. But based on my research, for good or ill, they are sentiments that have been expressed by parents when a child comes out. I only hope I have managed to treat the subject matter with respect and possibly given you, my readers, something to think on. I’m hoping to showcase that even the people we care deeply for (whether real or imaginary) can do some things we don’t necessarily like or agree with. Doing the right thing is not always as easy, and some people find it harder than others, but in the end it is worth it. No one should weight their personal discomforts or prejudices against another person’s happiness and right to thrive.

Beta Reader: Sakura’s Unicorn

Sasuke stares up at the large, draping banner in his living room which proclaims, ‘Happy Birthday!’. Bunches of blue helium balloons meander along the ceiling, nearly obscuring the clock that ticks closer and closer to the inevitable. He has to consciously rein in the desire to set it all on fire.

He hates parties. Always has, always will. Even knowing that this is for his kid isn’t much of an incentive to relax; he finds that hard to do even under normal circumstances. Naruto would say that that’s because he’s got a pole shoved up his ass, but then, Naruto’s judgement is questionable. It’s been questionable since childhood, the JSDF, their tour of duty in Iraq, and then their stint on the Okayama Bomb Squad seven years ago which resulted in both of them losing an arm.

Then again, his questionable judgement is also the reason Sasuke is even alive to have a kid— whom he’s throwing a ridiculous, superhero-themed birthday party for—in the first place, so he gets a pass.

This time.

The entire foyer is decorated with streamers and decals of the latest comic craze to hit television. Little cape-clad figures proudly proclaiming, “It’s a Boy!” are interspersed along the wall. Honestly, it’s utterly kitschy and targeted for a much younger demographic than an eleven-year-old, but then, today isn’t an ordinary birthday.

It’s been four years since Sarada quietly, haltingly confessed to Sasuke and Sakura over dinner that she—he—was not a girl. It was an announcement that, Sasuke maintains, caused him considerable confusion and, if he’s not lying, a little resentment.

He comes from a traditional background. His ancestors were samurai of note and, in their small community of Konoha, the Uchiha name means a lot—an old, founding family with traditions and taboos and expectations. These “LGBTQ issues” that his wife and child keep talking about falls very naturally under the umbrella of what Sasuke was brought up to categorise as “don’t ask, don’t tell.”

It’s an unspoken rule that men and women among the Uchiha may take lovers of the same sex if they wish as long as they fulfil their duties to the clan: namely, get married and produce children. Hell, his own brother’s been in a twenty-year relationship with a male masseuse, but Itachi still had the prudence to get married and produce two kids first.

The point is, it’s not talked about.

It is how everything has always been done. And in just the same way, among his family, members of the Uchiha play the role they are assigned by birth. A man has his place, as does a woman. The idea of operating outside of those very separate spheres, let alone the idea of a man being born into the body of a woman, is nonsensical to him.

To say Sasuke had instant reservations would be putting it lightly.

If he were a man of a different temperament—a man like his father—his first instinct would be to point out the impossibility of the situation, and if that failed, attempt to find some counsel to get his child over it. A very, very small part of him continues to be tempted to do just that.

The other part—the one who has travelled the world and been exposed to many different lifestyles, the one who has struggled with his own demons (both addiction and the trauma of active combat), the one who married one of the most open-minded women in existence—that part tells him to keep his fucking mouth shut and go along with it for the sake of his family.

If it weren’t for Sakura, he doesn’t think he could manage it.

His wife reacted to the announcement with the same sympathy and openness he’s seen her display at every major milestone—like the time Sarada shamefacedly admitted to needing glasses, or when their Uchiha cousins throw around insults about “commoner blood.” In every case, Sakura is always the calm and comforting one, the one ending her assurances with, “We love you, no matter what.”

In her usual whirlwind manner, after hearing Sarada’s announcement, she made it her personal mission to ensure their child’s needs were met completely. Because of the nature of her job, she was already very knowledgeable about it all, to the point of being matter-of-fact.

“The important thing here is to show that we support him from the beginning, no matter what,” she insisted.

Suddenly, the house was filled with every book written on the subject, and every other day, she was on the phone with some expert or other. For four years, she organised psychological and psychiatric consultations, fought for an official diagnosis of gender identity disorder, had them attend individual and family counselling sessions as well as meetings with a sexologist, and schooled Sasuke in the usage of proper pronouns.

And woe betide anyone—friends or even family members—who questioned her decision to support Sarada. There’s a reason that Sasuke’s family, with the exception of Itachi, will be conspicuously absent from today’s festivities.

It’s another one of Sakura’s ideas, a formal show of support, as Sarada has decided the time is right to live as a boy from now on.

They’ve told a select few people, with Sarada’s permission, over the years—the respective grandparents, Naruto and Kakashi and their families, Sarada’s teachers and best friend ChōChō—but today is the official “coming out.” Sakura was seconds from taking out an ad in the damned newspaper before Sasuke and Sarada stopped her.

He wonders if there’s such a thing as being too supportive.

“How are you doing with all this?”

Sasuke glances to one side, notices Kakashi eyeing him knowingly. His former bomb squad captain and mentor is always observant. Today is one of those days Sasuke wishes he wasn’t.

“Fine,” he replies neutrally, taking a sip of tea. He isn’t actually thirsty, but he just needs something to occupy his hand and mouth.

“And Sarada?”

“Fine.”

Kakashi sighs in annoyance. “Is there any point in asking how Sakura’s doing?”

They both glance through the door to the kitchen, where Sasuke’s wife is fighting with Ino about pretzel-to-chip ratios (“Don’t you dare fuck up my child’s birthday party, Pig!” “You’re the one who can’t manage proper place settings for shit, Forehead!”).

“She’s in her element,” he replies simply.

“Man, I’ve got so much respect for you guys,” Naruto says with a low whistle, and then takes a chug of his beer. “I don’t even know what I’d do if it were my kid.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “You’d be doing the same thing I’m doing, moron. Only with more panicking and oversharing.”

“Very funny,” Naruto replies with a scowl, but then his face relaxes into earnestness. “I’m not so sure. I mean, yeah, in theory, I’d like to say I would, but in reality… It’s just weird. I mean, one day, you have Sarada and the next day…well, the next day, you have him.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Sasuke replies shortly.

Any further rumination on the topic is cut off when the doorbell rings.

“I’ve got it!” Sakura sings, flying from the kitchen to greet their first guests.

“Shouldn’t Sarada get the door?” he inquires. “It’s his party, after all.”

“He’s busy. ChōChō said something about a surprise,” his wife answers, hauling open the door and exclaiming her delight at the first guests.

Sasuke sighs, squares his shoulders, and prepares for the longest afternoon of his life.

うちは

The atmosphere at the beginning of the party is pleasant, but there is a definite undercurrent of curiosity and uncertainty beneath the requisite excitement.

When Hinata arrives with Boruto and Himawari, the latter chirps a sunny hello to Sasuke and bounds upstairs to find Sarada. As in all things, Naruto’s youngest is utterly unaffected by the whole matter. To her, life is simple: yesterday, it was sunny; today, it’s overcast.

Sarada was a girl, now he’s a boy.

In contrast, Boruto skulks in, glowers at everyone, and sits in the farthest corner with his handheld gaming device. Naruto scowls at him, and when Sasuke raises an eyebrow, he shrugs, and confides in a low voice, “He’s having some trouble adjusting. Sarada’s his best friend. Even knowing this was coming…I don’t think he actually thought it would.”

Neither of them mention the fact that Naruto’s son has always had a crush on Sarada, and that this complication might be a major part of his resentment.

Besides, Sasuke has more to concern himself with, not the least of which is the minor heart-attack he has when his daugh—his son—makes a grand entrance about half an hour later, ChōChō and Himawari beaming smugly on either side.

Sarada has shorn off his long hair and bangs, leaving nothing but spiky black bristles. The horn-rimmed glasses he’s sported since childhood have been replaced with a thick, squared rim. And even though Sasuke hasn’t seen Sarada in anything resembling a dress since the age of three, the sight of loose-fitting khaki shorts and a dark blue polo are a bit jarring.

It’s like looking at himself when he was eleven.

“Oh, darling!” Sakura swoops in, tackle-hugging Sarada from behind and pressing a kiss against his temple.

“Mom, you’re choking me!” their beleaguered offspring complains, but Sasuke can tell it’s just an act. Sarada is pleased by the contact.

“Doesn’t he look great?” Sakura exclaims as they watch Sarada head over to a group of friends and cheer about the pile of waiting presents.

“Sh—He cut his hair,” Sasuke points out through gritted teeth. “Why does he need to cut his hair?”

“It’s his way of asserting his masculinity.”

“There’s nothing masculine or feminine about hair,” he protests. “None of the men in my family have cut their hair, unless they were in the service. Itachi’s is practically down to his ass, and he’s got flee-on-sight warrants in three different jurisdictions.”

Sakura’s face is set in that particular way—the “if you don’t shut up I will grab you by the short-and-curlies and twist” look he only sees when he’s doing something socially unacceptable.  

In a quieter voice, Sasuke adds, “Isn’t this the sort of thing that requires parental consent?”

“It is, and we’ll discuss it with him later, after his friends have gone home,” his wife says crisply, returning to the kitchen before Ino sets it on fire.

Naruto gives him a knowing look and Sasuke snaps, “What?”

“Nothing. I just find it interesting that you’re getting upset about ancient Uchiha hair traditions. Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk about?”

“You’re the one who feels the need to emote everywhere. Go do that somewhere else.”

His best friend sighs and meanders away, knowing better than to push. Kakashi exhales a weary laugh and says, “For what it’s worth, I think he improved on your look. Your hair always reminded me of the back-end of a duck.”

Which Sasuke doesn’t even dignify with an answer. Instead, he wanders over to the dining room table, which has been lovingly decorated with every type of junk-food offering and warehouse-sized plate of fruit imaginable, and resentfully begins picking through it.

Across the room, Sarada is having a blast.

He takes great glee in opening presents, laughing uproariously over stereotypically boy gifts. Occasionally, he shoots a glance up at his father, showing off a video game or football gear, and rolling his eyes which makes Sasuke’s heart lift a little. Just because he’s a boy doesn’t mean Sarada fits a particular mould—it’s a relief to know he’ll still probably want Sasuke to show him proper kendo form, instead of attending some brutish sports rally.

Throughout the party, Sarada’s friends are curious but open, most of them already knowing the specifics, while some still ask questions. When anything gets too close to inappropriate – such as whether Sarada intends to get surgery—Sakura is there to swoop in with small, yet pointed reminders.

“That’s a rather personal question, Yodo. If he wanted you to know that, he would tell you.”

In his corner, Boruto pretends not to listen in, but the scowl on his face isn’t as pronounced. The parents are more quiet in their curiosity; these are all old family friends, and more than one of them owes Sakura in some way. No one will say anything unkind here, and once Itachi shows up with Shisui in tow, no one will dare think it, either.

But it still makes Sasuke nervous, having to stand there and answer questions or hear comments about matters that he doesn’t truly understand himself. If his wife wasn’t so busy playing the hostess, she could be making infantile conversation, instead of him.

Somehow, the time does pass, and they eventually get to the point in festivities when Sakura and her mother carry in a huge chocolate cake, and the din becomes overwhelming. It’s amusing how a bunch of kids who insist they be treated like adults turn feral when sweets are introduced into the equation.

Sarada waits until everyone has finished a horrifying rendition of the birthday song to stand up and call for silence.

“I just wanted to say thank you to all of you for coming by today,” he says. “And for all the cool gifts. And I really want to thank my Mom and Dad for doing this because it’s been awesome.” He beams at them, and Sasuke feels Sakura appear beside him, leaning into his side. “I also wanted to share something with you guys because it is my birthday. It’s a pretty huge deal for me, and you all mean a lot to me, so I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He shifts nervously.

“So…when I was little, I asked my Mom why they called me Sarada. It’s kind of a weird name.”

“Yeah, they basically called you salad,” Boruto grumbles.

“Fuck you, Bolt.”

“Language!” Sakura snaps, her voice like a whip-crack. Every kid in the vicinity, and some parents, wince.

“Sorry, Mom,” Sarada says, ducking his head penitently before continuing on. “Anyway, Mom told me how she and Dad came up with the name. It’s made up of parts of their names, and my Uncle Itachi’s—who, if you guys don’t know, is brilliant and could probably make James Bond cry like a girl.”

Over in the corner, stuffing his face with dango, Itachi waves a stick in acknowledgement of the compliment.

“And the thing is… even though it’s a cool name, and I’m honoured to be named after these three people, it never really felt like my name. I knew I was going to have to leave it behind someday,” he continues solemnly. “It’s been a hard decision. I never really brought it up with my parents because, well, they’ve been so focussed on helping me through all of the other stuff. It never seemed like the right time. Besides, it’s been hard finding something that fit. And I didn’t want to completely forget what went in to naming me the first time, so I decided on something that still keeps alive the spirit of what my parents thought of.” He takes a deep breath. “From now on, I would prefer if you all called me Sachiro.”

It’s the first time either Sasuke or Sakura have heard the new name, even if it has been discussed.

The cheers and clapping from the guests wash over Sasuke, who flashes back to that day eleven years ago, when he and Sakura were debating names. They hadn’t been able to agree on anything in the months leading up to the birth, and now it mattered, and neither of them could think of something fitting.

He recalls how she looked, flushed and exhausted from giving birth, but so obviously happy. Her tentative suggestion of naming the baby after them both, and Itachi, who was the only reason the Uchiha family had accepted Sakura as Sasuke’s wife. How, at that moment, he couldn’t think of anything that was more appropriate.  

The music and chatter seems to start up again tenfold, and Sasuke finds himself staring down into eyes that are the exact colour as his own.

“That’s okay, right, Dad?” his child asks quietly, and a little uncertain. “It’s a good name?”

Sasuke’s chest constricts a little, and he nods slowly. “Aa.”

Sara –Sachiro beams up at him. It’s the same brilliant, joyful smile of Sakura’s that Sasuke fell in love with, the same smile he’s seen when he read stories, visited the park, taught her—taught him—to swim and climb trees. Toothless, or beneath a scratched nose, or covered in mud.

A smile, he realises, that’s grown rarer over the years.

Sarada was always a little sullen, a little quiet and reserved. Sasuke always thought that sh—he—was just similar to the way Sasuke was as a kid. But right now, the way this boy beams and laughs and just exudes joy, Sasuke sees more of Sakura for the first time in almost a decade. There’s a joie de vivre there, a confidence and sense of self Sasuke has barely felt.

And the idea that he could be responsible for that smile or certainty disappearing, that’s the thing that convinces him, finally, that all of this is right. Whatever he personally feels, it’s no longer about just going along with it and humouring the situation as if it’s something that’s been done to him. It’s about his child’s happiness and frame of mind.

The realisation isn’t a happy one, per se, but it’s solid enough that Sasuke thinks he will make peace with it, eventually.

“Mom?” Sar—Sachiro is asking, bringing Sasuke back to the moment. “What do you think? It’s still got yours and Dad’s and Uncle Itachi’s name in it. I mean, the ending is a little different, but I thought—”

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” Sakura says, reaching out and brushing a hand over newly-shorn hair. There’s a warble of emotion in her voice as she says it, but when Sasuke glances down at her to check, she’s already pulled away. “I’m going to get plates for the cake, all right?”

Sachiro nods, grins one last time at them, and hurries back to his friends.

Sakura crosses the room, and Sasuke is concerned to notice a stiffness in her back that wasn’t there before. She makes a beeline for the kitchen, pausing only when intercepted by Tsunade, who she greets with a wide—and false—smile and accepts a nondescript plastic bag. As she continues to the kitchen, Sasuke sees her fist clenched around the handle, knuckles white and shaking.

He isn’t the only one to notice, either. Naruto watches Sakura disappear into the kitchen and shoots a questioning glance at Sasuke. They’ve all known each other since they were toddlers which means he knows as well as Sasuke when something is wrong. Without words, he communicates to his friend to keep an eye on things, and follows his wife.

うちは

He finds her standing over the sink, fingers clenching the metal, her shoulders shaking.

“Sakura?”

There’s a sharp inhale and she straightens up, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Oh. Darling, you’re here. Did you need something?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing! Nothing. I’m just…cutting more onions for the dip.”

It’s an utterly different story from before, made all the more unbelievable by the fact that there are no onions anywhere in the house.

“Sakura…”

“Tsunade stopped by from the hospital,” she goes on, making a vague gesture toward the kitchen table. The plastic bag Sasuke saw earlier has been casually tossed there. “She knew we were so busy with everything, so she filled the prescription for the… for the blockers.”

Sasuke tenses, staring at the package with renewed understanding. They’ve had discussions in the past weeks, as Sarada grew closer and closer to making the official, full-time transition. There were mentions of intervening before the onset of puberty, recommendations from the psychiatrist to get started now while they wait for official permission to start him on testosterone injections, but—

Looking at the nondescript plastic bag, Sasuke can’t help a resurgence of his apprehension.

He knows it’s only a temporary measure; in theory, it’s like a pause button, a chance for Sachiro to be absolutely sure before any actual commitments are made. There are still many more milestones in the future; this one isn’t even the most important. But it still unnerves him. Judging from Sakura’s shakiness, she’s affected too, even though she tries to chat like normal.

“We can give them to h-him tonight, or…or maybe giftwrap them and add it to the present pile? It would be a nice surprise, I think…don’t you think?”

She sounds like she really wants his opinion on this, and he opens his mouth to agree, to disagree, to do something, but it feels like his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth. He’s only just had his personal revelation on the subject. Before this, he’s kept himself out of any major decisions, and she’s aware of this. Why the hell does she want him involved in this one? She’s the one who’s been so keen on pursuing all of this, why—

There’s a sudden choking sob.

Before he can really parse what he’s seeing, Sakura’s face seems to crumple, her bright eyes and trembling smile imploding into a look of horror.

“What are we doing?” she whispers, and shaking fingertips go to her lips. “Oh, Sasuke, what are we doing? What if this is wrong? What if…” She emits a staggered sob. “People understand here, but what if she…what if he wants to go somewhere else. For college. For work. People can hurt him—you’ve read the stories in the paper. What if that happens to our…”

She trails off in a moan, and tears are now leaking from the corners of her eyes, her voice getting higher and more panicked in pitch.

“We’re rushing this—I feel like we’re rushing this—”

“Sakura…” he begins, reaching for her, but she evades his touch, pacing now.

“Sh-she said she needed this, and everything she asked for, everything she asked us to do, I did, but maybe we should have talked more first—four years isn’t that long, maybe…maybe it’s a mistake, maybe we’re not doing the right thing—”

“Sakura—”

“Why couldn’t she just be gay?” she whispers suddenly, rounding on him with wild eyes. In her panic, she is no longer able to use the correct pronouns. “This would…this would just be so much easier if she just liked girls, because then she…then we wouldn’t…”

“Didn’t you tell me it isn’t the same thing?” he asks, tentative and uncertain.

“I know it’s not!” she snaps, and then presses her fist against her mouth, stifling the uncontrollable sobs that now rack her body. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You did not do anything wrong,” he informs her, taking her by the shoulder now and squeezing in reassurance.

But his wife doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, she looks off into the distance.

“And the name,” she continues in a whisper. “I knew there would be a point when we…but…but Sarada was our miracle. She was our little g-girl and I’ll never get to say her n-name anymore. And she...didn’t even ask and I…I mean, is it…is it wrong that I should want a say in m-my own child’s name?”

Sasuke exhales, drawing Sakura into his arms and holding her close. “No.”

“I h-had a daughter, Sasuke,” she sobs into his shoulder. “I g-gave birth to a girl, and she was beautiful and w-wonderful and…and do you remember that first year? With the ladybug dress, and the s-strappy shoes?”

“I do.”

“And the way she would pretend her mattress was a magic carpet and ride it down the stairs, and I…I know we said we did this for her—him. We’re doing this for him, so he can be healthier and happier. And I’m trying my hardest to let h-him be who he is, but why…why does it feel like I’m killing her?”

The question is so raw, so wracked with pain, that for a split second, Sasuke wants to call everything off. His wife is hurting, and the event going on in the other room is causing it, and since he was seventeen years old, his life has revolved around ensuring the Sakura does not hurt.

But since he was twenty-two, his life has also revolved around ensuring his child does not hurt either.

He knows that if he walks in there now, telling everyone to return home—or even just calls Sa – Sachiro in and points out that his mother, the one who has been a pillar of support since the beginning, is having second thoughts, it will break him.

And his…his son is the kind of person who will accept a lifetime of misery if he thinks it will save someone he cares about a little pain. If it’s someone Sachiro loves with the same fierce devotion as he does Sakura, he’ll quietly go back into the closet and never say another word about it until his dying day.

And from the articles that Sasuke has read over his wife’s shoulder, that’s something that could come much sooner than later.

The idea is chilling.

Which is why it only takes another split second for Sasuke to pull out his phone and send a text to Kakashi and Naruto, both of whom are as protective of his child as he is and order them to keep everything running smoothly. Then he leads a still-shaking Sakura up the stairs to their room.

Shutting the door, he steers her to their bed and sits her down, then silently takes the place beside her. For a long while, he simply allows her to cry, holding her until she gets past the wordless, grief-filled sobs.

When he senses her coming back to herself, he takes up the conversation as if there was no break.

“You are not killing anyone,” he tells her quietly but firmly.

“But she’s still going to be gone,” Sakura says dully. “It’s almost worse.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She swallows. “No. I don’t. But I… Sometimes, I still feel like our daughter is…dead. And we’re supposed to replace her with this…this stranger.”

It is the first time Sasuke has heard his wife utter any of this, the first time he’s heard her insinuate that she is just as uncertain of this whole situation as he is, that she has doubts. And it’s the first time that he finds himself in the position where he has to be the one with the answers.

He has no idea what to do, but it’s clear silence is not the answer in this case.

Stick to the facts, he decides. He’s better at logic than emotion.

“That child downstairs is still our child,” he tells her firmly. “The child you carried inside you. Everything you love about that child is still there, whether we have a boy or a girl. And our son is happy which means we’re doing the right thing.”

Sakura sniffs. “You’re just saying that,” she mutters. “I know you haven’t been completely on board about this.”

“I haven’t,” he agrees. “I’m still not sure that I completely understand. But I do know that Sar—Sachiro is happy. And he’s safe. And protected. And accepted by his friends, our neighbours, and most of the town. And that’s because of you. He wouldn’t have even this much anywhere else. And if he were growing up the way I did, he wouldn’t have any of it. He would be miserable.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I know that, Sasuke. In my heart I know it, but every so often, right when I’m least expecting it, there’s just this moment. And I just feel it all—all over again. I can’t say anything, especially not to S-Sachiro. It would crush him. And if anyone else thought I wasn’t supporting him, maybe they’d stop supporting him, and—”

“Then you tell me,” Sasuke interrupts her.

She glances at him in surprise. “What?”

“You’re supposed to tell me these things,” he continues, dogged. “I can only guess you haven’t because you thought, if you wavered, I’d put a stop to this whole thing.”

“I-I didn’t mean to…”

“You might’ve been right,” he concedes. “But that was before. I’m also the only person in this whole situation who’s going through the same thing as you. From now on, you tell me when you’re feeling like this. It’s not healthy for you to keep it inside. Isn’t that what you say to me?”

“Sasuke…”

“Did you…want me to set up a meeting?” he suggests, tentatively because this next bit is definitely not his strong suit. “With the therapist?”

She sniffs, rubbing at her eyes. “Yeah. Yes. But I’ll make the appointment.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“You hate talking to therapists,” she points out.

“If you want me there, I’ll be there.”

“…I want you there.”

“Then that’s settled.”

They are silent for a while, just sitting quietly together, her ear pressed against his heart and his fingers stroking her hair in comfort. For just a few precious minutes, they can be two parents struggling with a change that has been a long time coming, but which neither has been truly prepared for.

Eventually, Sakura breaks the silence. “We should go back downstairs before we’re missed.”

“Hm.”

“If Sar—Sachiro comes looking for us, we’ll have some explaining to do.”

“You could take your top off. That would forestall any questions.”

“Sasuke!”

She smacks him a little more than lightly on the shoulder, but there’s a hint of her smile from earlier back on her face. He considers it a win.

“Do you think this will all turn out all right?” she asks, tentative. “He’ll be okay?”

“I don’t know. But I believe his chances are better if he’s secure in the knowledge that he has our support.”

“Yeah…” Sakura inhales a deep, shaky breath and squares her shoulders. “All right. Let’s go back down,” she says with only a little less of her usual certainty. She catches sight of herself in the bedroom mirror and frowns. “Everyone will know I was crying. I look horrible.”

“Don’t fish for compliments,” he tells her because they both know that he always finds her beautiful. He takes her by the hand and leads her from the room.  “Besides, we can always say you were cutting onions.”

終わり

Apologies if I got anything horribly wrong, this was a difficult piece to write and I did my best to do so with the proper respect. 

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!

栗

[sasusakufestival]

Cooties

Summary: As the years inch by, the competition between them becomes more and more apparent. It’s entirely good-natured on Sakura’s side, but the same can definitely not be said for Sasuke. He is as intense in his dislike of her as he is in his love for his brother and parents. [SasuSaku Festival 2017 – Day 10 – Prompt: “SasuSaku Rivals”]

Disclaimer: This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author 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 fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You will be pecked to death by a hawk should you be found plagiarizing.

Warning:Spoilersfor pretty much everything up to Chapter 699.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place during Part I. Team 7 goes from ages 5 – 10 over the course of the story.

Fanon Compliance: Could conceivably take place in my Meanwhiles and Neverwheres non-massacre AU timeline

AN: This is unedited. I basically powered through it in between interviews with parents tonight and scrambled to get it done. Edits will happen when they happen, maybe this weekend if I and my beta have time.

Sasuke Uchiha is convinced that Sakura Haruno is a demon.

From her ridiculous coloured hair to her too-bright eyes, to the way she walks around with a straight back, exuding total confidence in a way none of the other kids do. Unlike the other girls that silently clamour to sit beside him their first day at the Academy, she chooses a seat at the very front of the class, and reads what looks like an instructional scroll until their instructor arrives. When she notices him staring at her, she looks up and smiles in a way that makes the whole room feel uncomfortable and warm.

Like he’s her very favourite person in the world, even though they have never actually met.

Sasuke decides right then that there is something about her he doesn’t trust.

It turns out his instincts on this one are good, because she's weird.

Several mornings into the new academic year, Sasuke waits in the classroom, anticipating the moment when the first students start to trickle in and another tedious day of lessons begins. The peace of the morning is abruptly broken by hurried footsteps and a slamming door. Before he can react, he is cornered by a flushed and panting girl, who boldly plants herself barely two feet away from him.

He, of course, knows her from class, but they’ve never even exchanged two words before. Yet she addresses him as if they know each other well.

“Sasuke, I don’t have a lot of time, so there’s something I have to tell you because I might not get another chance,” she declares without preamble or even introducing herself. For a moment she hesitates, like the words are stuck in her throat, then she squares her shoulders. “I have feelings for you –” Which brings him up short, because theirs is a short acquaintance, and it’s the first time any member of the female species has said something like this to him, “ – but I can’t spend my time chasing after you. I have to become a powerful shinobi, and if I’m focussed on you right now it will take me longer. Just remember that, okay?”

And then she takes off again, leaving him utterly perplexed.

And annoyed.

Sasuke doesn’t have much patience for practical jokes, if this is what her outburst was, and he has even less for people that waste his time. Her little declaration serves no actual point that he can discern, and yet it feels like there is a significance to it. Something beyond the strange confession, like she’s trying to offer him some secret message.

Something more than a notion as ridiculous as feelings.

He spends an entire hour puzzling over it, before gravely deciding he’s too important to be thinking of such things. She’s said she won’t pay attention to him, and he takes that as an indication he won’t be bothered by any more of her strangeness.

The matter is safely stored at the back of his mind, phased out in favour of wheedling training sessions from Itachi and telling his parents about his successes in class.

But Sakura Haruno has the inconvenient, irritating talent for being noticed. And it’s not just because of her hair, but her general temperament. During breaks, she is kind to everyone she speaks to, breaks up disagreements and quietly re-explains Iruka’s lessons if her seatmate (usually Naruto) begins to flounder.

At first, he resolutely pays her no mind – she’s no challenge to him, after all. From what he hears, her parents never made it past chūnin, she’s not from an official shinobi clan and being nice isn’t going to make her a good ninja. Sure, over time, he becomes aware that she’s one of the other students Iruka tends to compliment on ability or efficiency – Ino and Shino are as well – but that’s it.

But then Iruka starts to ask her to come to the front of the class to demonstrate problems on the board. Or show other students how to perform proper kunai-throwing technique. In fact, in this respect, their teacher praises her more than he does Sasuke.

And that needles at him.

The fact that it’s someone he doesn’t like who excels as well as he does is vaguely irritating, but it’s still something he can shrug off. After all, he supposes blood doesn't always determine ability – look at Naruto. He’s the son of the Fourth Hokage and an Uzumaki, a clan known for their immense power, and yet he’s a talentless loser. And Shikamaru is probably smarter than all of them put together, but has the lowest scores in the class.

The whole issue with Sakura Haruno is a fluke, nothing worth acknowledging.

Until their first evaluations come in.

Sasuke fully expects to be at the top of the class – in fact, by his calculations he is. Except when Iruka gets up to announce the results, it’s Sakura’s name that he proudly writes on the blackboard, and not Sasuke’s.

It is as if his stomach has turned to lead.

While their classmates congratulate the flustered girl, Sasuke tries desperately to figure out how she beat him. She’s talented, sure, but he's Uchiha. His father is the police captain, and his mother was a skilled jōnin, and his brother was the youngest graduate from the Academy since the hero Kakashi Hatake. The way of the shinobi should not come more easily to her, so why is this nobody proving a challenge to him?

No answer presents itself other than the fact that maybe, just maybe, he hasn’t been putting the right effort into achieving his potential.

From that moment on, Sasuke vows to beat Sakura at all costs.

He flings himself into his studies, something he never expected to have to do, and increases his training regimen. He observes her during taijutsu exercises, cataloguing her (admittedly few) weaknesses, and races to complete classwork faster and better than she does. He even takes to sitting up front with her, if only to keep track of her progress in relation to his own. It means sitting with Naruto, too, because for some reason she’s friends with the idiot, but he accepts this as a necessary evil.

It always makes him look better by comparison, so it works out.

At first Sakura seems confused by his attention, even puzzled, but over time she starts to react to his obvious ire with something like…delight? It’s strange and weird, and not knowing why she has that reaction makes him even angrier. He thinks she has an ulterior motive of some kind, perhaps she isn’t as nice as people think, because no one is happy to have someone dislike them.

As the years inch by, the competition between them becomes more and more apparent.

It’s entirely good-natured on Sakura’s side, but the same can definitely not be said for Sasuke. From a young age, he had a tendency toward grudges, and his feelings radiate from the core of his heart to the tips of fingers. He is as intense in his dislike of her as he is in his love for his brother and parents.

“I don’t get it,” Naruto says one day in class when Iruka partners them together for sparring. “She’s nice to everyone, even the girls that make fun of her. How can you not like her?”

Which Sasuke doesn’t answer, instead soundly pummelling the Hokage’s kid to the ground.

He’ll probably get reprimanded for it later – Father will look disapproving, and Mother complain that she now has to apologise to Aunt Kushina on his behalf. And the next time Sasuke sees him, Cousin Obito will give him some long-winded lecture about friendship and respect and a final, “try not to kill my sensei’s kid, okay?”

But it’s worth it. Besides, it’s not like the popular boy can’t take a beating every once in a while. And answering Naruto would mean admitting out loud that Sasuke considers Sakura a rival, which would mean acknowledging her existence. He refuses to stoop to that level.

But the enmity is there nonetheless, and the rewards thereof fluctuate between them.

One day, Sasuke is at the head of their class in substitution jutsu, but the next Sakura produces not one but three consecutive substitutions during a game of capture-the-flag, thereby securing a win for her team. Another day, Sakura has all of her mathematics homework done perfectly, and Iruka has her name up on the board again. So, Sasuke stays up the whole night wrestling wildly with the confusing symbols and equations until his sums are perfect, earning the coveted spot as top student. He even managed to repeat this for three weeks straight.

The girls praise him and the boys mutter, and he pretends like it was no effort at all. Sakura shrugs, and goes back to whatever scroll she is studying this week.

Sasuke’s streak comes to an end when they begin learning about chakra control. Here, he finds a difficulty that can’t be fixed by mere memorization and repetition. Here, Sakura is the clear master, and again Iruka has her go around to the other kids that need help; she spends almost her entire afternoon trying to explain to Naruto what he’s doing wrong.

Sasuke resolutely tunes out everything she is saying, insistent that he will figure it all out on his own. When she comes by to offer him assistance, he barks out, “I’m fine. Go help someone who needs it.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” she tells him, and then moves on to one of their other classmates.

She doesn’t even get mad? What the hell is wrong with this girl?

By the end of the day, he manages to get a handle on it – not as well as she can do it, but better than the rest of his class – and he feels some small measure of vindication.

Then there’s the day when they both achieve a perfect score on their latest evaluation module – word problems and taijutsu forms and even a Rope Untying Jutsu. After announcing their joint results, Iruka puts both their names up on the blackboard beside one another. The boys hoot and make catcalls, the girls whisper mutinously, and at lunch some idiot (he’s pretty sure it’s Kiba) draws a heart around their names.

Sakura appears mortified, and Sasuke is furious.

The girls throw a fit and are quick to erase the offending drawing, turning on Sakura as if she is responsible, and Naruto spends the walk toward the Compound (he sometimes stays with Obito and Rin when his parents are away) loudly complaining to Sasuke, as if it's his fault it happened.

“She’s the only girl in the entire school you actually remember the name of,” he rants. “Of course people are gonna tease you! Which makes it harder for people who actually like her to get noticed!”

Naruto’s crush on Sakura is pathetic, and Sasuke tells him so.

Which may or may not result in them pounding the hell out of each other and arriving at his cousin’s house a mess of bruises and cuts.

“I feel like I’m reliving the past,” Obito laughs, while Rin heals the worst of the injuries. Sasuke is thankful for this, because he doesn’t relish the idea of having to explain them to his mother. “The only thing missing are a pair of goggles and those crappy books!”

“What books?” Kashi pipes up curiously from where she is playing with a stuffed dog.

“Books you can read when you’re eighteen,” Rin tells her daughter sternly, and the youngest Uchiha shrugs, unbothered, before going back to her toys.

Naruto sniggers. “If they’re about girls, then maybe Sasuke should read them now. That way he can learn not to be an asshole to S – ow, what the hell, you bastard?!”

“Sasuke!” Rin snaps. “That was utterly uncalled for! Do you think your father would approve of that behaviour? And Naruto, if I hear language like that coming from you again, I’m going to have a conversation with your mother, and I guarantee you won’t like the results.”

Both boys turn pale at the respective threats.

“Oh, I have a feeling this is going to be the norm from now on,” Obito muses, both too amused and too knowing for Sasuke’s liking.

But the subject is dropped, and Sasuke makes a mental note to spend less time at his cousin’s house from now on.

In class, his exploits continue.

Every month they have a progress test to check their skill levels. Waiting for the results always ends up feeling like a week of pure torture. Especially because for three months straight, Sakura ends up coming out just ahead of Sasuke.

This fact is now a topic of dinner conversations, much to his mortification and fury.

Fugaku has been asking questions, wondering distantly why Sasuke isn’t at the top of his class like Itachi was. Sasuke refuses to use the excuse of a civilian girl being better than him. Instead, he accepts his father’s belief that he isn’t working hard enough, and redoubles his efforts. Every day, he wakes up even earlier, forces himself through any subject that he finds difficult just for the possibility of overtaking her in class.

Slowly, it pays off.

More often than before, Iruka stands at the front of the class, congratulating Sasuke on being the top student of the week. Then for the term. And it happens again the next month, and the next, and by the end of their penultimate year at the Academy, Sasuke is named Rookie of the Year.

He is smug and satisfied with the news. Finally, he has done what he set out to do, and expects to be treated accordingly. On the day the news is announced, he expects Sakura Haruno to be devastated.

But his moment of triumph falls utterly flat when after class, Sakura comes up to him and beams. Her eyes shine with something that looks strangely like pride.

“Congratulations!” she says, with genuine and obvious pleasure. “I know you worked really hard for this! You deserve it.”

And his chest feels warm and the blood rushes to his cheeks and he is angry.

He expected her to be resentful, or even annoyed. Maybe he was hoping she would declare her own efforts to out-do him, or get angry at him – hoping she would do something that shows she feels the sting of defeat the same way he does.

But there is nothing there but joy, and for whatever reason, this enrages him, and the words are out of his mouth before he even understands what he is saying.

“Don’t be annoying,” he tells her coldly. “Your congratulations mean nothing to me. I beat you, therefore to me, you don’t exist anymore.”

There’s a long, horrifying beat of silence.

And there it is.

Her face falls, the brightness in her eyes fades, and the smile disappears. Her lips purse, and for a brief, brief instant, he sees an angry shadow cross her features.

He waits for her to lash out at him – she’s done it before, to Kiba or Naruto when they say something particularly obtuse, and she doesn’t hold back a tongue-lashing when it comes to Ino. But then she smiles –

Fake!

– and quietly tells him. “I’m happy for you anyway, Sasuke.”

And then walks away.

He tries to ignore the fact it feels like she takes all the colour of the room when she leaves.

He doesn’t see her for the rest of the day, or the next. She is not in class, or the hallways, and there are whispers from the other kids that he pretends not to hear. A tiny, niggling feeling that might possibly be guilt begins to pick at him.

Even if it didn’t, everyone he is on speaking terms with seems to have an opinion on the matter.

“I’ve never seen Sakura as upset as she was yesterday,” Naruto tells him that morning. “She didn’t say a word the rest of the day, and she didn’t even wait for me to walk her home like she usually does.”

“That just means she’s finally gotten tired of your voice,” Sasuke insists, but he is off-balance enough to succumb to a clumsy uppercut from his friend.

And Ino corners him around lunch, shoving a finger in his face and snapping, “Just because I like you doesn’t mean you get to be a jerk to my friend! You should apologise to Sakura!”

He turns and stalks away. “Hn.”

Kashi, who has been attending classes at the Academy now since the beginning of the year year, runs into him as he is heading home. With total solemnity, she informs him that he is a moron.

Because, of course, Sakura is hugely popular with the younger students.

I don’t care what they say, he insists to himself, even if the words in his head are beginning to sound less and less certain.

He walks home completely alone, realising that without Naruto or Kashi tagging along, he’s alone with his thoughts. It’s more than a relief when he encounters Itachi and his cousin Shisui in the courtyard outside the house.

“Sasuke,” his brother greets, a gentle smile on his face. “I heard you made it to the top of you class this year.”

Sasuke’s heart lifts. He doesn’t even question how his brother found out. “Yeah.”

“Well done.”

“Yeah, kid, that’s pretty cool,” Shisui tells him with a grin. “I guess you finally showed everyone that you’re as smart as your big brother, huh? I bet you impressed that crush of yours, too.”

Sasuke’s brief elation evaporates.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growls.

“Your little girl friend. Aunt Mikoto says –”

“Shisui,” Itachi warns, noting Sasuke’s expression, just before he snaps, “I don’t have time for girls and definitely not one who is so weird and smiles so much!”

Shisui sniggers, obviously not taking him seriously, and Itachi offers him a pandering smile.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Sasuke. You could do a lot worse.” He says this with a faraway, thoughtful look in his eyes, and Sasuke realises there’s no point to defending himself further.

So he decides to leave, but not without a parting shot and meaningful glare at Shisui. “You mean like you?”

The sound of two chokes of disbelief when he turns his back are totally worth it.

The victory is short-lived, however, because at dinner it starts again.

“I had tea with Mebuki Haruno today,” she chats brightly as she doles out second helping to her husband and sons. “She’s mending our good clothes for Inabi’s wedding next month. She was telling me about how excited Sakura is for summer. She’s in your class, isn’t she, Sasuke?”

“Hm.” He shoves a tomato in his mouth to avoid a proper answer, but off his father’s raised eyebrow, he swallows quickly and mutters, “Yes.”

“We should have them over one afternoon,” Mikoto continues. “They’re such a nice family. And talented, from what I hear. Iruka says she and Sasuke are usually neck and neck in class.”

Fugaku snorts.

“She isn’t from any known clan,” he points out, sipping his tea. “I would hope Sasuke isn’t going easy on her because she’s a girl. That dishonours your abilities and hers.”

“Oh, Sasuke would never do that,” Mikoto protests. “I mean, maybe if he liked her, but – ”

Sasuke jumps to his feet at his.

“May I be excused?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for the answer, before stomping to his room. Upon shoving the shoji door closed, he proceeds to throw himself face down on his bed in a sulk.

Even my parents!

It’s beyond frustrating, like everywhere he turns today, he is destined to be reminded of Sakura. And the expression on her face when he said those words earlier.

Growling, he shoves his pillow over his head, as if that will drown out the memory of it. This is how Itachi finds him ten minutes later. He gently pries the pillow away.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and though his voice is quiet and without the expectation that Sasuke will actually answer, it’s as if he has given permission to open the floodgates.

“I don’t understand why everyone is making such a big deal over this!” he cries, clenching his fists. “Everyone tells me how I feel and they don’t listen when I tell them I don’t like Sakura! She ruins everything She’s always in the way, and when I finally beat her – when I finally get what I’ve been working so hard for – all anyone can talk about his her! Just for once, I want someone to…to…”

He trails off, words utterly failing him in his frustration.

“Acknowledge you?” Itachi supplies.

Sasuke blinks. “…Yeah.”

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“When you were named Rookie of the Year, how did Sakura react?” Itachi questions. “Was she upset?”

“No,” Sasuke mutters. “She congratulated me.”

“That was rather graceful,” Itachi says mildly. “It’s a measure of character when someone can accept defeat with ease. And even be magnanimous to the person who has beaten them. Can you think of anyone else who would react in such a way?”

“No…but that doesn’t matter!” Sasuke protests. “She’s weird! She never reacts how normal people react! And the whole time, it’s like she was happy that I was beating her, and that’s just not normal!”

“She was happy for you,” Itachi repeats. “Proud, even, would you say?”

“I…yeah, I guess.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted from the beginning? For her to acknowledge you?” Sasuke opens his mouth to correct him, but Itachi goes on, “Acknowledgement doesn’t have to mean ceding to a superior in battle. Sometimes it can be as simple as a kind word.”

Which Sasuke can’t think of a way to argue against.

Now the guilty feeling is back, and with a vengeance. He shifts uncomfortably.

“Hey…Big Brother?”

“Yes?”

“Did you ever have this problem before? With Izumi?”

A rare expression of discomfort passes over Itachi’s face.

“That is a story for another time.” He reaches his hand out and waves his fingers, indicating Sasuke come closer. Sasuke frowns suspiciously, but inches forward, only to jerk back when – of course – Itachi pokes him in the forehead. “For now, little brother, I think there’s someone else that you owe at least a conversation.”

Despite the last word, Sasuke knows his brother actually means apology. The trouble is, he’s never actually had to give one, so is unsure what to do. Maybe there’s a way he can get around actually giving one, but whatever he does, he’s going to have to face Sakura.

At the brief feeling of doubt, he frowns at himself.

He is to be a shinobi one day, and if he can’t handle talking to one girl, then he might as well give up on the whole thing now.

He wastes no more time slipping out of his room – he doesn’t think his parents will be so keen on letting him go anywhere given his abrupt departure from dinner – and heads for her house. He has never been there before, but Naruto has pointed it out to him on more than one occasion over the years, and he’s memorized the location against his will.

When he knocks tentatively on the door, he is barely given a moment to prepare a story, before it is flung open and a kind-faced woman with blond hair stands before him.

“Yes?” she asks, and then blinks at him. “Oh, goodness, you look just like Mikoto. You must be Sasuke, then – come in.”

Before he can marvel at the speed with which she comes to this conclusion, he is ushered into the house.

“Sakura talks about you a lot,” Sakura’s mother tells him cheerily, “so even if you didn’t look the spit of your mother, I’d know who you are. I hear you just got top of the class – that’s great! She was a little upset yesterday – I guess no one likes to be bumped down to second place – but she’s real happy for you. I personally think it’s good for her – she needs to take some time away from the books, you know? Go out and have some fun, but she’s so studious all the time! And she’s always down at the hospital, asking questions, wandering around the library. I don’t know where she gets it from – I hated classes, and her dad, well, he’s brilliant of course, but the attention span of a gnat. Have you eaten, sweetheart?”

Sasuke mouths wordlessly at this. “Uh…yes.”

“Well, you look like you haven’t. Do you want something?”

“I just…need to speak to Sakura,” he manages to get out.

“Oh, she’s upstairs. She should be resting, but I bet she’s studying one of her scrolls again. You go tell her to knock it off,” Mebuki tells him. “I’ll fix up some tea and biscuits for you two, okay?” She nods into the hallway. “It’s up the stairs, second door on the left.” When he continues to stare at him, she makes a waving motion. “Well? What are you waiting for? Shoo!”

Sasuke decides he doesn’t want to be subject to another barrage of rambling, and hurries up the stairs, shaking his head.

No wonder she’s so weird, with a mother like that!

He reaches the door to Sakura’s room quickly, and for a moment pauses in front of it. A sudden, overwhelming feeling of doubt hits him, and he wonders if this is what he is supposed to be doing after all. Maybe he should just wait to see her in class…

The idea of being watched apologise to her in front of their classmates makes his skin crawl.

No. Here is good. Simple and quick and then I’ll go home.

And so he takes a steadying breath, and pushes open the door.

There is a brief image of Sakura – her face red, and wet – and is she crying? He did not sign up for her crying, maybe he should just –

“KYAAAH! Don’t you knock?!”

A pillow is tossed at him, and would hit him right in the face if he didn’t duck.

“S-Sasuke?” he hears her say, tentative. When he recovers himself, he sees her face go from indignant to shocked to mortified. “Oh, my – I’m so sorry! I thought you were my mom!”

“So you threw something at her?” he inquires, studying her. He realises the reason her face is wet because it’s covered in sweat; perspiration actually soaks through her tunic. She is also positioning her body in front of something, which he thinks must have held her attention before he entered the room.

When she notices his eyes trying to see around her body, she frowns in consideration, then motions for him to close the door. When he does, she shifts aside, and gestures to the desk behind her. Or rather, what is on the desk behind her.

Sasuke realises that what she’s been hiding is a bird.

A hawk, actually.

It’s right wing is twisted at an odd angle, and some of its feathers are badly bent. The creature is arranged in a makeshift nest of a shoebox, papers and cloth, and every now and then makes feeble cooing sounds. When Sasuke takes a tentative step forward, it turns a distrustful yellow eye on him.

“It flew into my window yesterday,” Sakura explains. “I tried to heal him, but I put too much power into it and had to stop it before I accidentally hurt him. But that kind of knocked me out, so that’s why I wasn’t in school today. Mom’s been freaking out at me because I wouldn’t tell her what happened, but he’s not back to normal, so I thought I’d try again, only a little less because I really don’t want a lecture again and…and why are you looking at me like that?”

He is staring at her in amazement, the kind that only just overrides his usual jealousy, because healing and medical ninjutsu are incredibly advanced and how does she even know what to do?

“There is something wrong with you,” he informs her.

She tenses up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are you real?” he demands. “People aren’t like this, they’re aren’t so…you’re always nice and helpful and how do you have time to be like that when you’re so busy doing stuff like this?”

He gestures to the bird on her desk, which makes a weak noise of indignation.

Sakura smiles now, that odd, almost patronizing smile of hers, like she’s somehow more mature than him. And not just in a four-months-older kind of way, but the way he’s seen his brother and older cousins look at him.

“I study a lot,” she tells him. “Not all of us are born geniuses, right?”

He can’t think of a thing to say to this.

“Was there something you wanted?” she goes on, and then a sharper note enters her voice. “I thought I didn’t exist to you.”

He shifts uncomfortably at this.

“I…might have…I mean…I shouldn’t have…” Sasuke cringes, because it shouldn’t be this hard to get the words out. Taking a steadying breath, he blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

An expression of absolute shock overtakes her features, and he finds – oddly enough – that it’s not a bad look on her. When it morphs into genuine pleasure, a sense of relief fills him.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” she says softly, a faraway look flitting through her eyes. “Thank you.”

Sasuke can’t help frowning at this, because this all feels very backward. He feels as if he should be the one who is thanking her. And not just for congratulating him the day earlier.

Why does she always make me feel like things are out of order?

Noticing the way he is watching her, and she prompts, “What?”

“You’re not like any of the other girls,” he tells her, a minor accusing note in his voice.

She smirks at this. “Because I don’t throw myself at you?”

“No,” he insists quickly, the back of his neck turning red because he sort of means ‘yes’.

She laughs.

“I told you almost the first day we started at the Academy,” she reminds him. “I have feelings for you.” This time, hearing those words makes his stomach flip a little. “But I can’t let that get in the way of my training again. I’m going to become the most powerful kunoichi in the world one day. I’m going to help heal people, and protect the ones who are precious to me, and if I’m going to be ready, I have to put in the work now.”

And that at least is something he can understand. The need to become stronger, the need to live up to expectations – either one’s own or one’s family’s.

It’s possible that maybe, just maybe, he and Sakura have more in common than he considered.

“Besides,” she adds, matter-of-factly, “if I’m going to marry you one day, I have to be the best.”

Sasuke’s brain stalls at this, and he has to mentally repeat her words in his head. “…What?”

“Well, you’re an Uchiha,” she shrugs. “They’re not going to let you marry just anyone. I have to be better than everyone else, even all those talented Uchiha girls in your clan.”

Sasuke scowls and crosses his arms. “No one is going to let me do anything. I can marry whoever I want, and even if I cared about that sort of thing, it wouldn’t be you.”

She shoots him a taunting look of disbelief, and he straightens up, fists now clenched.

“In fact, I’m going to become an even better shinobi – much more powerful than you’ll ever be. And then you’ll never be able to marry me!”

It’s not his strongest argument, he’s aware, but he just wants to provoke a reaction.

Instead, she considers him thoughtfully, the way his mother and brother look at him when he is being stubborn or ridiculous. Then she tosses her hair and says, “Well, I guess there’s always Naruto.”

Sasuke sputters out an incomprehensible word, and Sakura dissolves into a fit of giggles.

“Your face – !” she cackles.

And Sasuke his entire body turn warm, and he should be annoyed – because no one mocks an Uchiha – but at the same time, he likes the sound of her laughter. It occurs to him he doesn’t hear it very often – she is generous with her smiles, but he’s never seen her actually laugh around anyone in their class.

Slowly the peals of laughter subside, and she calms herself.

“Don’t worry,” she tells him. “I wouldn’t want you to do something you don’t want. And who says I’ll ever get married? Lady Tsunade never got married and she’s a Sannin. Maybe I’ll be like her. There are worse things.” Something dark and pained crosses her features here, and in a quiet voice she adds, “I just want the people I care about to be happy.” Then she brightens up. “And that includes you, whether you like it or not.”

Without waiting for his reply, she turns around and refocuses on the bird, reaching down with her tiny hands and checking its wing.

Sasuke really has no idea what to say to this.

This girl – this strange, utterly mystifying girl – keeps tripping him up. Just when he thinks he’s figured her out, she says something or does something that completely alters his perception of her.

It’s still utterly annoying.

For once, he wants to say something or do something that puts her off balance. She’s always so resilient, always sure of everything around her, as if she already knows exactly how everything is going to turn out.

Perhaps that’s why he gives in to the first rash idea that comes to mind.

“Hey. Sakura.”

“Hm?”

She turns to face him, and quick as a snake, he leans over, closing the distance between them and pressing his mouth to hers.

It’s a brief peck, and it’s clumsy – he only catches the corner of her mouth – but she freezes, entire body going utterly tense, and he can’t help do the same because he just kissed a girl on the mouth.

He pulls back, half-shocked, half-impressed by his own daring, and stares at her. Sakura’s eyes are wide, and slowly – ever so slowly – her face turns darker and darker, steadily matching her hair.

“S-sasuke,” she whispers, like she isn’t sure how to use her voice, “why did you…?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps, all of a sudden feeling the pressing need to get out of there. He begins to back away from her, narrowing his eyes threateningly. “If you tell anyone…”

“I-I won't…” Sakura still seems too surprised and disbelieving. Maybe, if he’s lucky, she’ll think she imagined the whole thing.

Just in case she doesn’t, however, he jabs a finger at her when he reaches the door. “And this doesn’t mean I’m ever going to marry you!”

Without waiting for an answer, he yanks open the door and runs down the hallway – nearly knocking into Mebuki as she carries a tray of snacks up the stairs – desperate to get out of this weird house, with it’s even weirder women. Away from the strange girl that makes him do strange things.

Out the door and down the road, Sasuke coaches himself to run faster, to not stop until he’s back home where things always make sense. His mouth tingles oddly – not unpleasantly – and he feels the blood rushing to his face. He knows it’s not because he is running.

He doesn’t know what school is going to be like from now on. She might not say anything – he doubts she will, Sakura isn’t the type to embarrass people – but how is he supposed to look at her from now on? Was a brief moment of her being utterly stunned worth trying something so…ridiculous?

He casts his mind back, the image of her shocked, flustered expression permanently imprinted on his mind. A wan smirk of satisfaction tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Yes. Yes it was.

終わり

I hope you enjoyed the story! As part of the SasuSakuFestival, please go to the ssfest page and vote, like and/or reblog, it would be majorly appreciated!

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