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Chapter Text

Konoha hadn’t changed much. Maybe that’s what made it harder to look at.

The trees were taller, the market louder, the wind still carried that familiar earth-heavy scent, and the sky had the same restless blue. Some part of Sasuke had expected more difference after all this time, as if the village should look older the way he felt older. But it didn’t. Not really. Time hadn’t touched it the way it touched people. 

He stood in silence in the Hokage's office, boots dusted from travel, the faint smell of wet stone still clinging to his cloak. His last mission had ended in the Land of Mist, it was quiet than expected, but no cleaner than Konoha. The folder in his hand held the names of men no longer alive, a few maps marked with red crosses, and a sealed scroll.

Kakashi took the report from him without a word, flipping through the top page before setting it aside. He wore the same mask, the same uniform, but his eyes looked heavier these days. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.

"You were supposed to check in yesterday," Kakashi said, brow arched beneath the familiar hitai-ate.

Sasuke said nothing. That was his version of I'm here, aren't I?

Kakashi gave a faint shrug, tapping his fingers against the desk before leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

"How was Mist?"

"Rotten," Sasuke replied. "The broker was already dead. Intel was wiped."

"But the ledger?"

"Encrypted, but intact."

Kakashi gave a slow, unsurprised nod. "And you didn’t kill anyone unnecessarily?"

Sasuke glanced up, his gaze flat.

"Right," Kakashi said under his breath. "Silly question."

A silence followed. Familiar, like a pattern they’d settled into long ago. Then Kakashi shifted, just slightly.  "You missed Shikamaru and Temari’s wedding."

Sasuke remained still. His expression didn’t flicker, but the pause in the air was louder than words.

"Sakura-chan missed it too. Everyone else was there," Kakashi added, more softly. "Even Kiba wore something decent."

That name. It settled between them like dust on old glass.

He reached for a thinner file this time, one that looked less official and more personal. Its corners were worn, bent from handling.

"She had a mission. High-priority infiltration. She volunteered."

He set the folder on the desk and pushed it gently toward Sasuke, fingers tapping once against the edge before retreating.

"She’s been out there just over two months. The Riverlands. Intelligence collection. The city runs on black market trades, chakra, scrolls, weapons."

Sasuke opened the folder, fingers quiet, precise. The first page was brief. Target zones, signal history, asset tracking.

Alias: Tsuyu
Role: Independent performer.
Specialization: proximity intel extraction.

A hand-drawn sketch was clipped to the back. Sakura, but not as he remembered her. Her hair was pinned high, her profile turned slightly, elegant. Controlled. Her expression unreadable. It was a stranger's face in familiar features.

"Tsuyu," Kakashi said. "She’s working under that name. Posing as a dancer. Not part of a house. Independent. She moves in different circles, collects information where others can’t."

Sasuke stared at the name. The kanji was soft. Delicate. Dew.

"She hasn’t checked in for three weeks," Kakashi continued. His voice had quieted now, the words more weight than sound. "I was going to send Sai. Had the briefing almost done. But then you walked in. Figured maybe it ought to be you."

Sasuke closed the folder. His hand lingered at the edge. "She volunteered?"

Kakashi nodded slowly. "Said she needed space. I let her.”

The words felt heavier than they should.

"She’s been taking missions far from the village, Sasuke."

The words sank into the room like ash.

"When she’s here, she disappears into the hospital, long shifts, emergency requests, research that keeps her too occupied to sit still. She doesn’t linger when she returns. Raincheck on dinners. No visits. Sometimes, she doesn’t even ask for the next assignment. She just leaves.”

Kakashi leaned his elbow on the desk, looking toward the window. Sasuke didn’t speak. His gaze had dropped to the desk again, to a small water ring stained into the wood near Kakashi’s ink well.

"She used to ask about you. Just in how she'd pause after every briefing, like she was waiting for your name to come up.”

Sasuke was still. His expression hadn’t changed, but something behind his eyes had.

Kakashi’s voice lowered a fraction.

He exhaled quietly.

"Two years ago, that stopped. I stopped telling her when you came back. Figured maybe it was better that way."

Sasuke rose slowly.

"I’ll find her."

Kakashi didn’t move. "Don’t expect her to come running."

Sasuke paused at the threshold.

"No one there calls her Sakura."

He said nothing else.

Then he was gone.

Chapter Text

The Riverlands smelled different. The air clung to skin like damp silk, laced with the faint scent of moss, sweat, and smoke.

It would have taken Sasuke four days to reach the edge of the Riverlands, two by land, one along the valley pass.  Instead, Sasuke had arrived by Rinnegan, warping through the folds of space to a point just beyond the edge of the Riverlands where the chakra in the air shifted, denser and unfamiliar. He had traveled alone, the technique precise but draining, and the silence that followed his arrival was absolute.

He took a moment to get his bearings, cloak rustling as he stepped onto the narrow dock outside the ferry outpost, blending in among other travelers just as dusk began to settle. Sasuke stepped off the platform with his hood drawn low, eyes sweeping the narrow dock, the crooked boards creaking beneath his weight. Across the water, the sky was bruised with early dusk, and lanterns had already begun to bloom like fireflies along the streets.

He moved like shadow, his steps measured and silent, shoulders tucked beneath a plain traveling cloak. The locals paid him no mind. Strangers were common here, mercenaries, drifters, those with no allegiance but coin. No one looked too long. No one asked questions. That was why Sakura had been sent here.

He passed a small noodle stand where oil popped in a cast iron pan, the vendor shouting orders over the sizzle. Laughter erupted from a gambling house across the way. The streets were alive, but not in the warm, open way of Konoha. Everything here was sharper. Brighter in places it shouldn’t be. Duller where it should be clean.

Sasuke followed the winding roads deeper into the heart of the city, where red banners hung like bloodied silk between buildings, and every doorway seemed to offer something for sale. His intel placed her near the eastern sector, in a district known for dancers, information, and secrets. A place where no one went by their real name.

A narrow alley led him to the back entrance of the venue, a low-lit establishment hidden between a teahouse and an apothecary. The sign above the door bore no writing, only a painted lotus faded by rain. He paused beneath the awning, rain dripping steadily from its edge, and glanced once at the guard posted by the door.

"Private function," the man grunted.

Sasuke didn’t speak. He reached into his cloak and withdrew a stamped token, a forged marker he'd been given by Kakashi. The man examined it, then gave a grunt of approval and stepped aside.

Inside, the air was thick with incense and perfume, the hush of expensive silence. Not quiet in the way of solitude, but the heavy, deliberate hush of money and influence. Soft shamisen strings echoed from a corner behind the screen. It was slow, sultry notes plucked with practiced grace. A low bamboo flute joined, airy and smooth, weaving a melody that curled around the room like smoke. It was not music meant to entertain. It was music that seduced.

People spoke in whispers. Every step on the polished floor was softened by woven mats. The scent of plum wine mingled with sandalwood. Servers in red silks moved like shadows between patrons.

The main room opened in a circle around a recessed stage. Lanterns floated above on paper threads, casting warm golden light over the crowd. The walls were lacquered in black and crimson, and the wooden columns carved with scenes of foxes and flowers, a shrine to indulgence.

Men in layered robes leaned back on cushions, sake cups cradled in their palms, their gazes hungry and unblinking. Some licked their lips. Others whispered to one another with sharp grins, eyes never leaving the stage.

And there she was.

She stepped into the center of the stage like she belonged there. Like she'd never belonged anywhere else.

She was dressed in crimson, the silk clinging like liquid flame to the curve of her waist. Her hair, now grown long and silken, fell nearly to her waist in soft waves, the ends kissed in pink. It was pinned partially up with lacquered pins and trailing ornaments that shimmered in the lamplight.

The Byakugō seal that once a vivid, unmistakable mark on her forehead was nowhere to be seen. The skin there was smooth and unmarked, masked beneath a precise genjutsu or perhaps a chakra-concealing technique refined over months.

It wasn't gone, merely hidden. The disguise was deliberate, cloaked beneath a layered genjutsu that softened the center of her brow to smooth, unbroken skin. From a distance, she looked untouched by power. Up close, only the most skilled sensor-type shinobi might suspect otherwise.

It was clever, one more layer of the mask she wore here. A concealment not of weakness, but of intention. It made her look softer, perhaps, but not weaker.

Her eyes were painted in soft kohl, lips dusted with rose. And yet, beneath it all, Sasuke saw it: the strength in her spine. The precision in her breath.

Tsuyu, they called her here. Not Sakura.

She began to danced slow and measured movements like drawn brushstrokes. Each motion was deliberate, graceful, controlled. Every person in the room leaned forward without realizing they had. Even Sasuke.

She didn’t see him at first. Her gaze passed over the crowd without catching, focused but detached like she knew how to look without letting anyone truly see her.

And for a moment, Sasuke wondered if he’d imagined the years wrong. Wondered if the girl who wrote him letters had been someone else entirely.

Then her eyes met his.

Just a flicker. A moment that lasted less than a breath. A thousand thoughts could have passed through her in that second, surprise, recognition, and memory. But it didn’t linger. No hitch in her step. No tremor in her hands. Not even a glimmer of tension in her jaw.

Her gaze held his eyes. Unblinking, and something sharp and unreadable passed through it like a silent verdict.

And then, as if nothing had happened, she turned her head slightly, extended her arm in fluid grace, and continued the arc of her movement.

She kept dancing.

Her performance unfolded like a geisha's, steeped in elegance and suggestion. Every motion was symbolic. The lift of her hand a whisper, the turn of her wrist a promise. Her feet glided with deliberate precision, bare and soundless, barely kissing the lacquered floor. The hem of her crimson robe swept around her like a tide, the silk flowing in waves that clung to her shape, then slipped away.

Each movement told a story no one else in the room could truly hear. But Sasuke understood. This was a language he had never learned to speak.

She pivoted, graceful as a crane, her hips moving in smooth, liquid rhythm. The trailing bells in her hair chimed once, soft and clear, before silence swallowed the sound again. Her posture was flawless, shoulders relaxed, chin slightly dipped, but eyes lifted, commanding. She was the center of the room, and everyone else simply revolved around her.

The men around her drank her in with hungry eyes. Some leaned forward with parted lips, others watched in stillness, devout as monks at prayer. She gave them nothing, not even a glance. Her power lay in restraint. In knowing they wanted more.

Sasuke's fist curled slowly beneath the folds of his cloak. The sound of the shamisen filled the silence she left behind, each plucked note slipping between them like a wall.

She danced like he wasn’t there at all.

Chapter Text

The final notes of the shamisen lingered in the smoky air, clinging to the room like the last breath before silence. Sakura's final movement was a slow turn, a bow of the head, her arms falling to her sides in a gentle arc. No applause followed, this was not that kind of establishment. The silence that greeted her was reverent and greedy. The kind that wanted more.

She exited the stage as gracefully as she had entered, slipping behind a veil of patterned silk that separated the performers from the crowd. A server passed with a tray of wine cups, and the men returned to their quiet murmurs, their eyes trailing after the space she had left behind.

Another performer took the stage as Sakura disappeared into the wings. The transition was seamless and practiced. The music shifted to a higher register, the soft rhythm of drums now paired with the haunting melody of a shamisen in minor key.

Lanterns above the stage adjusted with the mood and warm amber light fading into violet hues, washing the floor in lilac shadows.

The new dancer moved differently, sharp and bold. The room, hungry and restless, followed every twist of the woman’s hips like it had never seen a body before. Yet Sasuke didn’t linger his looks. His mind was still in the moment where pink strands spilled over bare shoulders.

The dressing room backstage was smaller than it looked. Gilded panels, dim lamps, the perfume of too many women layering over warm wood and powder.

Sakura stood near a lacquered vanity, her crimson robe now traded for something darker, black, sleek, edged in garnet. It clung to her curves, cut low along her chest and high at her thighs. Her legs crossed as she sat down, revealing toned skin and the faint outline of a kunoichi’s life beneath the performer’s polish.

She wiped gently at her cheeks with a cloth, removing the powder and makeup from her face, revealing more of herself with every swipe. A mirror stared back at her, and in it, she saw not Sakura, not Tsuyu and just the quiet in-between. The version that had learned how to fold heartbreak into duty.

She found Sasuke at his table minutes later.

He had chosen a spot toward the edge of the room, a place half-swallowed in shadow. He looked like he belonged there, apart and observing. She approached quietly, a subtle sway in her step more from habit now than intent. He noticed her before she spoke.

"You’re not supposed to be here," she said, sliding into the seat across from him without waiting for permission.

"Kakashi sent me," Sasuke replied, his eyes never leaving hers. "You stopped reporting."

Sakura picked up the sake menu, signaling a nearby server with a simple raise of two fingers. "There was nothing to report."

He studied her, the lines of her jaw, the way her collar dipped low. "Then why are you still here?"

"Still working on the target. No progress yet. He’s careful. Slippery. But he’s been circling the main supplier. I need to get closer."

Sasuke lowered his gaze briefly to the performer still on stage, only to break eye contact. He looked back at her too quickly, as if forgetting what he meant to say.

"How are you?" she asked, her voice sounded almost kind. Almost.

"Fine," he simply said.

The server arrived and set down two cups and a warm bottle of sake. Sakura poured for both of them, her fingers steady. She didn’t toast, didn’t wait.

Sasuke's expression was unreadable, but his voice had a hint of amusement. "Didn’t know you were in the mood for that."

Sakura took a sip before answering. "A lot of things changed, Sasuke."

No honorific. No smile. No bitterness either. Just Sasuke.

It almost hit harder than any blow he’d taken in years.

He watched her watch the performance, her profile lit in flickers of violet and gold. Her face was softer in this light, but there was a hardness in the way she sat. Her chin lifted and eyes sharp. The Sakura he remembered had worn her heart in every motion. This one had tucked it away somewhere no one could see.

"You’re staying?" she asked, still watching the dancer.

He nodded once. "Until the mission is complete."

Her hair, now fully unbound, poured like rosewater over one shoulder. She had wiped away the heavier makeup from the stage, leaving only a trace of liner to accent her lashes. Her Byakugō seal remained concealed.

She turned her gaze back to him. Her posture was composed.

“It may take a while,” she said, voice even as she reached for the small ceramic sake cup resting beside her. “I’m only now starting to get closer to the target. He’s part of a smuggling circle tied to the southern port.”

She sipped slowly. Her lips touched the rim like muscle memory. She didn’t flinch at the taste.

“They’re moving chakra-infused weapons, banned scrolls, relics from the war.” She tilted the cup in her hand, watching the last few drops shimmer in the lantern light. “I need to learn who’s funding it. Who he reports to.”

Sasuke listened without interruption. His fingers curled loosely around his own cup. The ceramic felt warm, oddly fragile in his hand.

He took a sip.

It tasted faintly bitter, but smooth, like something that pretended to be gentle before burning low in the chest. He watched her as he swallowed, the tension in his jaw was subtle.

“Tell me what I can do,” he said finally.

Sakura just nodded in agreement. Not in the way she used to which had the unspoken hope or quiet longing, but like a strategist weighing an option. She didn’t answer immediately.

She poured herself another measure, then gestured toward one of the attendants with a small flick of her fingers. The silent language of someone who’d done this a hundred times.

“Another bottle,” she murmured, not looking away from Sasuke.

The attendant bowed and vanished into the crowd.

Sasuke watched her closely. She drank again, not quickly, but with practiced ease. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this. This effortless command of the space.

He took another drink, slower this time.

“You have a place to stay?” she asked, voice soft, but not delicate.

He hesitated. The question hung in the air, simple on the surface, but heavier beneath.

“I just arrived,” he admitted. “Haven’t thought about it yet.”

Sakura set her cup down with a muted clink.

“You can stay at my place,” she said, tone flat. Not suggestive. Not inviting. Just stating a fact.

He blinked. The words caught him off guard more than they should have.

His brow twitched faintly. “Your place?”

She nodded once, eyes steady. “No one will suspect. People here are used to it.” She paused, then added, “Men coming to my place, I mean.”

There was no flush in her cheeks. No flicker of hesitation. She said it like it was a line she’d said before, like she’d grown used to how it tasted in her mouth.

Sasuke shifted in his seat. His fingers flexed slightly around his cup.

“You mean—?” The rest of the question caught in his throat, unspoken. He didn’t know if he wanted to ask it. He didn’t know what answer would be worse.

The thought of her bringing men into her space. For show, for intel or for distraction coiled something sharp in his gut. Something low and dark. But he didn’t show it. Only the smallest tightness in his jaw gave him away.

She met his gaze evenly.

“Part of the role,” she said. “Part of the disguise.”

Her voice was quiet and firm.

They said nothing for a while after that. The music swelled in the background, drowning out the weight between them. Another dancer spun onto the stage in vibrant violet, arms tracing firelight. Laughter bubbled at a nearby table. No one looked at them. No one cared about them sipping from the same bottle.

Sasuke looked down at his cup. He thought of the last time they drank together, Naruto’s birthday. She’d blushed at half a glass back then. Laughed too easily. Said his name too softly.

Now, she didn’t use the honorific.

Now, she called him Sasuke.

Just that.

He glanced up. She was watching the stage, half-turned toward the performer, her fingers toying with the rim of her cup.

He studied her profile, the slope of her nose, the curve of her mouth. She was still soft and still graceful.

And that realization, quiet as it was, settled deep.

“How long are you staying?” she asked, without turning.

“Until the mission is complete.” He simply said.

She exhaled slowly, eyes flickering to the stage but not really watching.

Her fingers idly circled the rim of her sake cup, nails short and clean beneath the lacquered light. “The target, Kenjiro is very cautious. Paranoid, even. He doesn’t touch anything himself, everything’s passed through middlemen. Paper trails so thin they vanish in the next transaction.”

Sasuke listened in silence, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“I’ve been working my way in through one of his attendants,” Sakura continued, leaning forward to rest her chin in one hand. Her tone was clinical and unbothered. “She mumbles names in her sleep.”

The way she said it was so casual, like medical records, like facts on a clipboard.

“He doesn’t let anyone touch him,” she added. “Except the women he sleeps with.”

Her eyes met his then, just briefly, before drifting back to her cup.

“I’m already working on it.”

Sasuke stiffened, his grip tightening slightly around his drink. He said nothing, but the breath in his chest turned sharper. Something between disbelief and something heavier.

He hadn’t pictured this. Couldn’t. Not her, not Sakura, not in another man’s bed, even if it was just an act. And she already implied it. The idea settled in his mind like a thorn he couldn’t remove, the tip pressing inward with every thought.

She said it so easily. Like it meant nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to him.

He watched her recline back again, sipping her drink with no hesitation, no discomfort. There was no blush on her cheeks, no defensiveness in her posture. Just that same measured composure. The kind she wore like armor now.

A flicker of movement drew Sasuke’s eyes across the room.

The nearby table was livelier, surrounded by half-drunken laughter, a man waved in Sakura’s direction. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in deep purple robes with a laugh that cut through the smoky air. Others flanked him, men with heavy rings and wandering hands, women draped in silk and wine-soaked smiles. The table looked like it had money, power, secrets.

Sakura glanced over her shoulder.

She smiled softly with familiarity, and said to Sasuke, “Be right back.”

Then she was up, sake cup abandoned, hips swaying slightly beneath the light fabric of her robe as she walked toward the group.

Sasuke didn’t move. But his gaze followed her with a tension he couldn’t hide.

The moment she reached the table, the atmosphere changed. The man, probably in his late twenties with the polished arrogance of someone used to being obeyed just welcomed her like something he already owned. She didn’t protest when he pulled her down beside him, arm sliding around her waist.

Sasuke’s fingers curled slowly around the cup.

The man said something in her ear. Sakura laughed, not the delicate kind of laugh she used to give him, this one was brighter, looser, full of show.

Then the man’s hand slipped beneath the low table and rested on her thigh. She didn’t flinch.

Sasuke didn’t blink, but the movement hit him like a weight to the sternum. It wasn’t the touch. It was the way she let it happen, effortless, like it had happened before.

The man leaned in, speaking close to her cheek. Her smile didn’t break. One of the other women poured her a drink, she accepted it without hesitation.

Sasuke finished what was left of his sake in one smooth motion. The heat of it burned down his throat, but it was dull compared to the fury clawing at the inside of his chest.

His grip on the ceramic cup had gone tight enough that he nearly cracked it.

He told himself it was the mission. That he didn’t like the risk. That this wasn’t about her.

But it was.

It always was.

Several minutes passed before Sakura returned. She moved easily, like nothing had shifted, like she hadn’t just been draped across another man like a prized companion.

She sat back down across from Sasuke, smoothing her robe without looking at him. But she felt it. The silence. The shift in the air.

Her hand hovered over the sake flask, then paused.

“You’re quiet,” she said, finally.

He stared at the table for a moment longer, jaw tight, before the words slipped out.

“Your boyfriend?”

He hadn’t meant to say it. Not like that. Not at all.

Sakura blinked.

Then a breath of something like amusement passed over her lips. “That’s Kenjiro’s man.”

She didn’t elaborate further. Didn’t deny the closeness. Didn’t explain the hand on her thigh.

Sasuke’s expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes narrowed. The silence felt heavier now.

“His name’s Ryoma,” she added, voice even. “He’s one of Kenjiro’s top runners. Likes to talk too much when he drinks. He thinks he’s charming.”

Sasuke didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His throat felt like it had closed around the fire of the sake still burning there.

Sakura reached for the flask and poured herself another cup.

“I let him think whatever he wants,” she said, after a beat. “That’s how this works.”

The way she said it, it wasn’t defensive. It was honest.

“You looked comfortable,” Sasuke muttered.

The words slipped out quieter than he meant, but they carried the sting of something deeper, something not fully formed. Aa frustration he couldn’t name, couldn’t control. His eyes stayed fixed on the rim of his cup, as if avoiding her gaze might lessen the weight of what he’d just said.

Sakura sipped slowly, not flinching, not reacting right away. The cup left her lips with the soft clink of ceramic meeting air.

“That’s the point,” she said, her tone was calm.

But something in her voice had changed, there was an edge beneath the stillness, a faint bitterness worn thin by repetition. A kind of weariness that didn’t ask for understanding anymore.

She leaned back in her seat, one arm resting casually along the backrest, the other holding her cup. The fabric of her robe shifted as she moved, falling slightly down one shoulder.

The lanterns above threw golden light across her skin, catching on the slope of her collarbone like a whisper of heat. She didn’t fix it.

“You think I’m enjoying this?” she asked, quieter now, but sharper. Her eyes finally met his, steady and unyielding. “I’m not. But if I flinched every time someone touched me, the weeks I’ve worked for this mission will go to nothing. Or worse.”

Sasuke’s gaze faltered. He looked away, eyes narrowing faintly at nothing in particular. His hand twitched once near his cup, then stilled, fingers curling against the lacquered surface.

He didn’t speak.

Sakura exhaled through her nose, then placed her cup down with quiet precision, the ceramic clicking softly against the table.

“I know you don’t care about it,” she said, voice even but laced with something sharp now. Not anger, but something closer to disappointment. “But you came here to help.”

She looked at him fully then, “So, help me.”

The silence that followed pressed between them like heat.

The clatter of dishes and the echo of laughter from the other side of the room kept time with the quiet between their breaths. The faint notes of stringed music floated over them again, as another performer took the stage. The world moved but they sat in silence.

Finally, Sasuke’s voice broke through, low and raw.

“I never said I didn’t care.”

Sakura blinked once, slow. Her gaze held him there, unmoving. Her eyes searched his for a moment that lasted too long. Then, finally, she lifted her cup again, slow and smooth, as if it weighed nothing at all. She drank.

When she set it down again, her voice came softer than before.

“Then don’t get in my way.” Her voice didn’t sound sharp or cold. Just tired.

Not a warning.

Just a request.

A line drawn, quietly, between what they were and what they no longer were.

Chapter Text

The night moved on without pause.

The air outside had cooled slightly, the humidity easing into a quiet breeze that stirred lantern tassels and swept perfume-heavy air through narrow alleys. The buzz of voices dulled to murmurs, the street glowing with paper lights strung between roof beams. Somewhere in the distance, a flute played and soft, lilting, meant for no one in particular.

Sakura walked beside him, flushed from the sake. Her cheeks carried a faint pink that deepened when the wind caught her hair and pushed it over her shoulder. She didn’t stumble, didn’t sway, but her movements were looser now, more languid.

“Pull up your hood,” she murmured to him under her breath, lips close to his shoulder. “Too many eyes out tonight.”

Sasuke obeyed without argument, drawing the dark fabric up to shadow his features.

As they passed through the main avenue, it became clear how well she was known here, not as Sakura, but as Tsuyu. People nodded in her direction. Some men smirked. A woman resting on a balcony above blew her a kiss and called her name with an affectionate lilt.

“Tsuyu~,” the woman cooed, laughing. “Come back before the week ends!”

Sakura lifted a hand and waved lightly in return. Her smile was relaxed and effortless.

Sasuke watched every interaction in silence.

This woman they saw, this woman they called Tsuyu, was somehow a mystery. But the way she moved, the way she owned the street without apology, it wasn’t unfamiliar. It reminded him of how Sakura used to walk into an operating room: calm, unreadable, prepared for anything.

They reached her building. A narrow structure wedged between a teahouse and a leather shop. Sakura unlocked the side door with a small iron key she kept tucked in her sleeve.

The apartment was upstairs. A single flight.

Sasuke followed her without a word, his footsteps quiet behind hers. She pushed open the door, and warm light spilled from within.

It was small. A single space sectioned loosely by bamboo panels and long silk hangings. One window looked out over the rooftops. Moonlight slid through it and pooled onto the worn wooden floor in silver-blue streaks.

He stepped inside, eyes moving slowly over everything.

A low table with two cushions. A kettle near the corner, already warm. Shelves of old scrolls, some worn, some newer, some clearly medical. A small pile of folded linen robes. A cabinet stocked with teacups that didn’t match.

And in the far corner, beside the window, a single bed with a woven throw blanket folded at the edge.

It reminded him, somehow, of her place in Konoha. Different but simple. She still lived surrounded by quiet, gentle things. She still kept a jar of herbal salve on her shelf, even out here in enemy territory.

It still smelled like her, faintly of tea, and something floral.

Sakura peeled off her outer robe and hung it over a small hook near the door. She wore something softer beneath, loose cotton in a pale color, tied at the waist. Her hair had started to curl at the ends from the breeze.

“I’ll make tea,” she said, padding barefoot to the kettle.

He watched her as she moved. She didn’t ask him to sit. She didn’t hover or fuss. Just moved around him like they hadn’t spent two years apart.

She poured water into a pair of mismatched ceramic cups and brought them to the table, then disappeared into the kitchenette behind the partition.

“You’re hungry?” she called.

He didn’t answer, but the soft clink of plates said she already assumed yes.

She stayed longer in the kitchen and she returned with a small tray of rice, pickled vegetables, thin miso, and something pan-seared with soy and ginger. Simple, but warm.

They sat cross-legged on the floor, tea between them. The moonlight cut diagonally across the table.

Sasuke took in the space again. The hanging silks swayed with the breeze slipping through the cracked window. Everything here was utilitarian but personal. Tidy but lived-in.

His gaze drifted again, toward the bed. Just one. It was barely wide enough for two, but it was there.

Sakura caught his glance. She didn’t say anything either.

She passed him a pair of chopsticks. They began eating, the soft clink of chopsticks the only sound between them. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t quite easy either.  She poured tea into his cup and sat across from him, her posture relaxed but graceful.

“You still drink lavender tea,” he said after a moment.

She blinked, then smiled gently. “Some habits are hard to shake.”

After they ate, Sakura quietly gathered the empty cups and plates then set them aside on a small wooden tray. She moved with easy grace, still barefoot and her steps padded and quiet across the wooden floor.

Sasuke rose without needing to be asked and helped stack the dishes, their hands brushing once at the edge of the tray, just enough contact to be felt.

The silence between them wasn’t tense anymore. It had changed, become something gentler, easier. Somewhere in between familiarity and comfort.

After that, Sasuke followed Sakura from the kitchen. Sakura leaned back slightly on her palms, her legs folded loosely to one side. The lamplight painted her in soft gold and shadow. Sasuke rested one arm across his knee, gaze steady on her as she spoke.

“Ryoma invited me to his house tomorrow,” she said without ceremony.

Sasuke’s brow barely lifted. He didn’t reply right away.

“He thinks it’ll impress me. A bigger space, better sake, rare books. He talks too much when he drinks, and even more when he’s trying to impress someone.” She ran a hand through her hair, then tucked it behind her ear. “I might find something. Documents, scrolls, guest records. He’s not careful when he’s relaxed.”

Sasuke watched her in silence. Then gave a small nod. “You’re going?”

“I have to.” Her eyes dropped to the floorboards for a moment. “That’s where Kenjiro’s next move will come from. Ryoma’s the link.”

He didn’t say what he was thinking, that he didn’t like her being near men like Ryoma, that he didn’t trust any of them with her in their space. But she knew. She always did.

Sakura looked over at him again, more gently this time. “It’s a lead.”

After a beat, she stood and stretched her arms overhead. “We should rest. There’s a lot tomorrow.”

She walked to the edge of the room, grabbing a towel and her robe before slipping into the small bathroom. A minute later, he heard the water running.

By the time she returned, her hair was damp and brushed neatly behind her ears. She wore a pale robe that hung just below her knees. Her skin glowed faintly from the steam, and her expression was quiet.

“There’s only one bed,” she said, as if stating the weather. “I don’t mind.”

Sasuke gave a small nod. “Alright.”

He waited until she moved toward the bed before gathering a towel of his own and heading into the bathroom. The water was still warm when he stepped beneath it, and the faint scent of her floral and herbal soap lingered in the air. He kept the shower brief.

When he returned, the main lights were off. Only the lamp by the bed glowed softly, bathing the room in honey-colored warmth.

Sakura lay on the left side of the bed, propped on one elbow, reading from a small notebook. Her eyes flicked across the page, brow slightly furrowed in thought. She didn’t look up as he approached, but she shifted, wordlessly giving him space.

The bed dipped beneath his weight.

The lamp cast a soft glow beside them, golden light flickering against the curve of Sakura’s cheek, illuminating the strands of damp hair that still clung to her temple. She lay quietly beneath the thin blanket, her knees drawn up slightly, one hand resting over her stomach, the other near her chin. Her fingers twitched once against the fabric.

Sasuke’s eyes were open, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. The breeze outside stirred faintly through the cracks in the window, carrying with it the scent of woodsmoke and distant incense.

Sasuke settled quietly onto his side, the wall at his back, the hush of the room folding around him like a second skin. The blanket shifted beneath him, gathering faintly at his hip. Across the floor, moonlight spilled in through the narrow window, creeping along the wood like water through a crack, inching closer to the edge of the bed.

The air smelled faintly of steam and tea. Her scent, laced into the linen and the silence.

He had nearly closed his eyes, surrendering to the hush, when her voice broke through. Soft and almost hesitant.  

“Sasuke.”

He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch the outline of her face in the low lamplight. She was already looking at him.

“Why didn’t you respond?” she asked, gently. “To my letters.”

There was no bitterness in her voice. No crack, no tremble. Only the stillness of someone who had carried the question alone for far too long, until it had become weight rather than wound.

Sasuke blinked slowly. He didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped to the edge of the blanket between them. His fingers curled into the fabric.

“I read them,” he said at last. The admission was quiet, worn down by time.

A beat of silence. His throat worked once before he continued.

“Every single one.”

Sakura didn’t respond. She didn’t push or question. She only watched him, steady and calm, like she already knew but needed to hear it said aloud.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and the words felt unfamiliar on his tongue. “I couldn’t bring myself to write back.”

His voice was raspy, like it had been rusted from disuse.

“I thought,” he started, then stopped, his lips pressing into a faint, unreadable line.  “I thought if I kept my distance, you’d stop waiting.”

The words felt like they had been waiting too long to be spoken. They didn’t come out with sharpness or force, but with tired honesty.

“I thought it would be easier for you to move on with your life,” he said.

Then came a sound he hadn’t expected.

A soft chuckle.

It wasn’t bitter. It wasn’t cruel. It was light, almost breathless, like laughter half-drowned in memory. Sasuke turned his head to her, uncertain.

Sakura lay staring up at the ceiling, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Wistful, self-aware, almost amused at her own expense.

“I’ve waited for you,” she said lightly, voice quiet but clear. “Years.”

Her eyes didn’t meet his right away. She spoke it like fact, like the sky had always been blue, like he should’ve already known.

“I used to believe that if I waited long enough, you’d come around. That someday you'd stay. For Konoha. For us.” She then met his gaze. “For me.”

Her smile thinned slightly, but the pain behind it had dulled with time.

His lifted his gaze up and stayed fixed ahead, unable to look at her. “You deserved better.”

His voice was low, steady, but there was something frayed at the edge of it now.

“Someone who could stay.” He drew in a slow breath. 

The silence wrapped around them again, thicker than before.

“Not someone who had nothing left to give.”

His words sank like stones into still water. Nothing echoed. Nothing returned.

Sakura didn’t reply right away. Her eyes softened with quiet understanding, not in pity, not in sadness. Just a quiet acknowledgment of the truth he was finally willing to speak.

She had always understood him. Even when he hadn’t deserved it.

And now, she understood this too.

She reached up, brushed a few strands of hair back from her cheek, and turned onto her back, her gaze following the ceiling once more, like she could trace the ghost of every letter he never answered in the grain of the wood above them.

She reached up, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, then turned onto her back beside him, her gaze rising to meet the same ceiling he watched.

And when she finally spoke, her voice was soft. “If that’s what you believe,” She paused. Not to dramatize the moment, but to let the words settle properly between them. “Then I accept it.”

She simply let it go. Didn’t ask him to take it back. She didn’t say he was wrong.

Didn’t try to change his mind.

She had just wanted to understand why.

Sasuke turned his head again to look at her. The lamplight curled along her profile, catching in her lashes, in the soft line of her mouth. Her eyes were half-closed now. Her breathing calm.

But he wasn’t calm.

The ache behind his ribs began to pulse slowly. The kind of ache that told him this wasn’t new for her. That she had already made peace with his absence long before tonight.

There was no anger. No grief left in her. Only space.

And in that space, Sasuke felt the sharp edge of regret press inward.

Guilt. Or grief. Or just the slow realization that too late didn’t always arrive with a slammed door, but sometimes with a quiet, open one that no longer expected him to walk through.

And now that she did, she was done holding the door open.

She had waited. And he had known. And still, he had stayed silent.

She wasn’t waiting anymore.

And for the first time in years, he wondered what it would have been like if he just stayed.

Chapter Text

The soft light of dawn bled gently through the cracks in the curtains, touching everything in faint silver. The room was quiet, draped in shadows that shifted with the light breeze coming through the open window. A teacup sat untouched on the table. The blanket beside him was empty.

Sasuke opened his eyes slowly, blinking into the quiet.

The scent of her lingered. The steam from the still-warm kettle, faint floral soap, the sharpest edge of perfume that only emerged when she walked past quickly. The kind of scent that didn’t cling, but ghosted behind her like breath.

The sheets still held the warmth of her body. A crease where she had laid. A faint indentation on the pillow.

He sat up slowly, the weight of the night still pressed across his shoulders.

Beyond the curtain partition, he could hear soft sounds, fabric shifting, a clasp fastening, the quiet brush of footsteps across wood. Then she stepped into view.

Sakura, no, Tsuyu, stood in the middle of the room, tying the final knot at her waist. Her robe was burgundy today, cinched expertly around her curves, slit of the fabric along her thigh caught the morning light like an invitation. Her collar dipped low, artfully careless. A soft gloss touched her lips. Her hair was pinned up again, two lacquered sticks holding the weight of it in place, the ends of a few strands teasing the skin of her neck.

She looked, in every way, like someone who belonged in this city.

Confident. Composed. Untouchable.

She caught his gaze, then gave him a faint amused smile, one not unlike the ones she’d given strangers at the performance hall.

“Morning,” she said casually, like they hadn’t shared a bed just hours before, like she hadn’t laid beside him and accepted the quiet end of a story that had been years in the making. “Didn’t think you’d still be asleep.”

Sasuke’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he pushed the blanket aside and sat up fully, his voice low. “I wasn’t.”

Sakura stepped lightly toward the table, opening a small wooden box to retrieve her scroll pouch. She moved efficiently, like muscle memory, like she’d done it a thousand times before.

She crossed the room without hurry, tying one last knot at her side as she passed the bed. “I’m heading to Ryoma’s. He’s expecting me before the second bell.” She rolled her eyes slightly, amused.

Sasuke watched her silently, as she rolled the map open on the low table and motioned for him to come closer.

“Before I go,” she added, “I need you to check something on something.”

Sasuke leaned over the map, eyes tracing the lines. “You think it’s connected?”

“I’m sure.” She met his gaze. “I don’t know what they’re moving through it yet, but the men Ryoma drinks with never go home directly. They cut south. Every time.”

Sasuke nodded once. “When?”

“This afternoon. Circle it in daylight. Check the perimeter. Don’t engage, not until we know who’s guarding it.”

He straightened again, watching her as she folded the map back with precision and slid it into her pouch. She fastened it at her hip and reached for her sheer outer robe, the kind meant to shimmer under colored lanterns.

She didn’t ask for his opinion nor didn’t explain further. She had always been strong in the field. But this was different.

This was practiced detachment.

He could still see her through it, though fragments of Sakura beneath the artifice. The way she adjusted the pin in her hair with one hand while the other brushed along her collar absentmindedly. The small crease between her brows when she thought about logistics. The part of her that still moved with quiet precision, with grace that didn’t ask to be noticed.

She reached for the door.

“Don’t follow me,” she said without looking back. “Ryoma’s starting to notice when I draw attention. It took too long to get this close.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Sasuke said, voice low.

She paused, glanced over her shoulder, and gave him a look, somewhere between amused and familiar. Like she used to when they stood at opposite ends of a battlefield, reading each other before the fight.

Then her haze softened.

“Oh, and,” she added with a faint smile, “don’t eat the last dumpling in the cold drawer.”

His brow twitched.

She tilted her head. “That one’s mine.”

He said nothing, but the corner of his mouth tugged. Just barely.

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, her sandals whispering softly against the worn wooden stairs.

And just like that, she was gone.

Sasuke stood alone in the center of the room, the map still imprinted in his mind, her scent still lingering in the space she left behind.

He looked once toward the window, where the light had begun to climb up the wall.

The southern merchant quarter was louder during the day. Noisy with vendors setting up stalls, street peddlers hawking roasted sweet root and paper fans, and delivery runners darting between crates with scrolls tucked under their arms.

But just beyond the outer stalls, down an alley where the air grew quiet and the scents shifted from spice to dust, the world began to still.

Sasuke moved like shadow. Cloaked, hood drawn, footsteps silent against worn stone.

He didn’t move with urgency. He didn’t need to. He had time before dusk and better judgment than to let impatience cloud precision.

The warehouse came into view gradually, tucked between the husk of an abandoned glass shop and the rear fencing of an old kiln. From the outside, it was nothing. Low-walled, metal-framed, with a roof slanted from rust and age. No signage. No carts. No guards at the door.

There were faint chakra signatures, suppressed and likely trained. He counted three.

He settled atop the rooftop of a neighboring inn, crouched behind a canopy vent, watching the shadows shift against the frame of the building. A man exited through a side door that didn’t creak. He wore no uniform, but his steps were too even for a laborer. A courier, maybe. He carried nothing in his hands, but his coat hung strangely at the back. Hidden compartments.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes. Counted the pattern of his steps. Measured the arc of his gaze. The man paused at the corner of the street, turned north, and disappeared into the crowd.

Sasuke didn’t follow. Not yet.

Instead, he dropped lower, eyes scanning the perimeter again.

The door had no lock. No seal. It had been etched with something old, foreign characters beneath the paint, almost scratched out with time. He memorized the pattern.

He remained still for nearly half an hour.

A second man appeared, this one exiting through the rear with a crate. His walk was heavier, lazier. No sense of watchfulness. A front, perhaps. To make the place seem abandoned.

Sasuke filed it away. Every detail.

But even as he tracked them, watched and waited through measured distances, his thoughts kept shifting back to Sakura.

To the way Sakura hadn’t looked back when she walked out the door.

She had changed. In ways he didn’t fully understand.

He shifted slightly, weight even across the tiles, cloak rustling only faintly with the breeze. His eyes flicked to the roof of the warehouse, where a subtle trap sigil blinked once beneath the layers of dirt.

Clever.

This wasn’t just a smuggler's storage.

Something old had been buried beneath it. Old enough to be sealed, guarded, concealed by chakra-sensitive barriers keyed to specific movement.

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

She was right. The place wasn’t just active, it was important and dangerous.

He leaned back slightly into the shadow of the vent, allowing the breeze to carry away the heat from his skin. From up here, he could hear the distant bells of the second market tier, the sound of carts turning east, children laughing in the plaza.

He reached into his cloak and drew out the blank scroll she had given him the night before, coded with the simplest of seals. A touch of chakra revealed the ink beneath: her instructions, written in sharp, neat lines.

Sasuke stared at the scroll for a moment longer, then slipped it back into his coat. He would finish the sweep before dusk.

Sasuke returned just after the city’s midday bell, the sun already dipping behind the tallest buildings, casting long shadows across the tiled rooftops.

The apartment was quiet.

He closed the door behind him quietly, the familiar wooden click echoing more than usual in the absence of her presence. The scent in the room was unchanged, tea, dust, faint perfume.

He set his cloak aside and crossed to the low table near the window, where the light fell in clean, golden strips through the slatted blinds. The cushions were still as they’d been left. One slightly indented. One untouched.

Sasuke pulled out a scroll from inside his coat. Blank, sealed at the edge. He unrolled it with a deliberate hand, brushing his palm once across the surface. Ink bled to life beneath his chakra, Kakashi’s encoded return mark.

Just report protocol.

He lit the small oil lamp on the desk and dipped the brush into the inkwell Sakura had left beside her notebook. The scent of the ink was faintly familiar, Konoha standard. It struck him that she’d brought it from home.

He began to write.

To: Sixth Hokage
From: Uchiha Sasuke
Southern Sector–Merchant District Perimeter Sweep

Target warehouse located at grid marker 4C, adjacent to abandoned kiln.
False signs of disuse observed. No trade traffic or standard merchant seal.
Three confirmed chakra signatures. Suppressed. At least two trained.
Minimal visible security, likely intentional. Façade of abandonment.
Second-level seals present on the eastern exit. Defensive trap array, coded in older dialect. May indicate pre-existing network or storage of high-level contraband.
No visual confirmation of scrolls or weapons. Recommend no engagement until cross-referenced with intel from Agent Tsuyu.
Return sweep scheduled post-dusk. Awaiting next movement cycle.

– Uchiha S.

He let the ink dry for a moment, then reactivated the seal with a flick of his fingers. The scroll rolled itself closed, the chakra signature locking with a faint snap. He placed it near the window, he would send it by crow later. For now, there was nothing else to say.

He leaned back against the cushion.

From the bedroom corner, a breeze moved the edge of a curtain. It lifted and fell again, slow, like a breath.

He let his eyes wander.

To the cup she had left near the bed. To the robe still hanging neatly by the door. To her notebook, closed and tied with a red ribbon.

He stared at it for a long moment, not touching it, not daring to.

His fingers rested near the edge of the low table.

He had followed every instruction. Every command. Just as she’d asked.

He hadn’t followed her.

The light in the room shifted as the sun moved lower in the sky, stretching long shadows across the wooden floor. The apartment remained unchanged, but something about the silence felt different now.

Sasuke stood and moved to the small kitchenette, refilling the kettle without thinking. The act was mechanical. Boil, pour, wait. He didn’t need the warmth of the tea. Not really. He just needed something to do with his hand.

As he waited, his eyes drifted again, this time not to the furniture, but to the things that had remained untouched since the night before.

Her comb lay beside the mirror, lacquered and simple. One of her hairpins had rolled slightly off the tray, forgotten. A drying cloth was folded neatly by the basin, still damp at the corner.

He stepped closer.

On the narrow shelf near the wall, there were three jars. He recognized two immediately. Salve for minor wounds, a blend for chakra fatigue. The third was unlabeled, the lid slightly loose. He opened it.

Lavender. Dried sprigs, still fragrant.

He inhaled faintly, then set it back down, careful not to shift the order.

Everything in this place had a purpose. It wasn’t decorative. It wasn’t a show. It was Sakura’s world, stripped of ceremony.

He crossed to the bedroom corner, where the blanket was still slightly wrinkled from where she’d lain the night before. The pillow beside his was untouched. She hadn’t gotten close.

Sasuke stood near the bed, the scent of the tea fading behind him. His eyes flicked once more across the mattress, noticing what he hadn’t before. A faint shift in the weight of the bedding. The way the blanket draped differently across one corner, the crease suggesting someone heavier had once been there.

His gaze dropped. Half-tucked beneath the bedframe, there was fabric.

Not hers.

He crouched, silent, steady, and reached beneath the wooden slats. His fingers closed around a neatly folded piece of clothing, the fabric warm from where it had sat trapped under the bed’s edge.

He pulled it out.

A shirt. Dark in color. Thicker in material. Worn at the collar. It wasn’t hers.

He held it for a moment, unmoving, fingers curled just slightly tighter around the fabric than necessary.

It smelled faintly of something masculine. Something neutral, not cologne, not sweat, but lived-in. The scent of someone who had been here long enough to leave something behind. Who had been comfortable.

The fabric still held a crease from a careful fold.

Whoever had worn it hadn’t forgotten it. They had left it here on purpose.

Sasuke slowly lowered the shirt to the bed. He didn’t throw it. Didn’t toss it back under like it hadn’t mattered.

But he couldn’t bring himself to smooth it out either.

He straightened, slowly, his breath was even but no longer steady. There was a coldness now in his fingers, a quiet tension building in the back of his jaw.

It didn’t come from anger. Just realization.

“No one will suspect. People here are used to it. Men coming to my place, I mean.”

She had said it without hesitation. He had told himself it was just part of the mission. It was a quiet truth, folded beneath her bed like a memory no one had asked to keep.

He looked down again at the fabric. Not disgusted. Not angry. Just hollowed out.

Not because she had let someone in. But because she hadn’t felt the need to hide it.

She had already let go of waiting for him long before he ever crossed her doorstep. And this was proof.

He sat at the edge of the bed again, the room quiet except for the distant noise of the city through the window.

He just sat there, staring ahead, the ache in his chest no longer something he could ignore.

Chapter Text

The key turned softly in the lock.

It was well past midnight.

Outside, the city had fallen into the hush of its late hour. The laughter from the red-light district had long since faded into embers, leaving only the far-off clatter of closing stalls and the creak of lanterns swaying in the breeze. The streets were mostly empty now, blanketed in that strange kind of stillness found only between midnight and dawn, when everything breathes slower, quieter, as if the world itself had turned in for the night.

The apartment door eased open on silent hinges.

Sakura stepped inside, carefully toeing off her sandals at the entrance. She moved automatically, almost without thought. One hand pressing the door gently closed behind her, the other loosening the sash at her waist. Her steps were featherlight, but they held a kind of weight: the kind that clings to the skin after hours spent smiling, laughing, listening. Pretending.

Her robe slipped from one shoulder as she reached for the lamp on the wall. Dim light flaring slowly to life, painting her silhouette in amber and shadow. Her hair was still pinned, though loosely now, strands falling from the updo in soft, tired coils. Her earrings were gone. Her makeup had faded. Only the lingering scent of smoke and spiced alcohol clung to her skin.

Sasuke didn’t say anything at first.

He was seated by the low table near the window, in shadow, the same spot she had left him in earlier. The curtain stirred beside him, carried by the breeze drifting in through the open window. He hadn’t lit the lamp beside him. He hadn’t moved much, either.

Just watched.

Sakura glanced his way as she reached for a cloth on the shelf and began dabbing the gloss from her lips. Her movements were slow but efficient, the kind built from repetition and survival. She didn’t sigh and didn’t complain.

But her silence carried exhaustion like steam off a cooling cup.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” she said softly, not looking at him yet.

“I’m not.”

Her eyes flicked toward him quickly, then away again. She walked to the basin and poured herself a glass of water, taking a slow sip before rubbing the remaining rouge from her cheeks with the corner of the cloth.

The apartment smelled faintly of old ink and warm tea. It was quiet again. Too quiet.

She moved past him toward the bed, her robe loosening further at the collar, exposing the pale curve of her shoulder as she leaned to pick up the discarded towel from earlier. As she stood again, she noticed the subtle shift in him, something in the angle of his jaw, the way his fingers were pressed against the edge of the table a little too firmly.

He had found something.

He hadn’t said it, but she knew.

Still, she said nothing.

"You were out late," he said, his voice quieter than before, though there was no accusation in his tone. It was simply an observation, one that hung in the space between them like an unspoken question.

Sakura didn't answer right away. She simply nodded once, the motion casual, unbothered. “Ryoma likes to talk when he drinks.”

Without another word, she untied the sash of her robe, letting the fabric slip from her shoulders, revealing the simple linen sleep clothes she’d prepared for herself. Sasuke’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than he intended, but she didn’t seem to notice, or at least, didn’t seem to care.

She moved as though his presence was nothing unusual, as though this was how it always was. She didn’t flinch, didn’t hurry. She reached for the sleep clothes folded neatly on the dresser, pulling them on with a quiet efficiency, the fabric brushing against her skin. The loose shirt fell effortlessly over her, the collar dipping slightly, and the soft linen clung to her frame with subtle grace.

“It took longer than I thought to get him to drop his guard,” she said as she adjusted the fit of her clothes, her voice still even, like she was explaining a simple mission report. “He thinks I’m impressed by his wealth. I let him believe it.”

There was a pause. She turned toward him then, pulling her hair loose from its pins.

“You learn more from what people show off than from what they try to hide.”

Sasuke didn’t respond.

She moved back to the table, slowly, sitting down across from him without ceremony. Her sleeves hung past her wrists. Her hair fell in waves over one shoulder, damp now with the heat still clinging to her skin.

She looked tired. Not in the way of someone who had danced for hours, but in the way of someone who had endured them.

Her fingers traced the rim of her cup.

A soft silence settled between them. The kind that felt neither strained nor safe.

“You checked the warehouse?”

He nodded. “Three chakra signatures. Two trained. Possible trap seals in the east wall.”

She inhaled once, slowly, like she was filing it away. “Good. That’s the supply route. We’ll map the rest tomorrow.”

Her gaze drifted absently to the table between them. The inkpot. The scroll seal still faintly cooling from use.

The brush had been wiped, but a faint ring of black remained around the edge of the inkwell, and the air still held the faint iron scent of fresh ink.

Sakura blinked once, then looked at him. "You sent a report?"

Sasuke nodded, not looking up.

There was something grounding in the exchange. The kind of conversation they used to have between missions, in the in-between places where blood had dried but tension hadn’t left yet.

Still, she hesitated. “Did you include everything?” A small question in casual tone.

Sasuke looked at her for the first time since she sat.

Their eyes met. And for a second, it felt like something far more delicate had been asked.

He held her gaze. “I included what mattered.”

Sakura nodded once, then turned her face away, not because she was hiding anything. But because she already understood what that meant.

There were things left unsaid.

Things he hadn’t written down.

Things she hadn’t told him either.

She rose again a moment later and turned toward the bedroom, drawing the blanket down with her hand, smoothing the pillow absently. Sasuke watched her without moving.

“I’ll take the left side,” she said again, softer this time.

Then she lay down, her eyes turned to the ceiling.

Waiting for nothing.

Expecting nothing.

Morning crept in gently. No noise. Only the slow glow of soft sunlight bleeding through the woven curtains, turning the wooden floor into a pale wash of gold.

Sasuke had risen before the city had stirred.

He moved through the apartment with silent familiarity, quiet feet on wood, kettle steaming low on the stove, the delicate click of ceramic plates as he set them on the table. He didn’t overdo it. Just tea. Rice. A few dried plums from the small pantry. Enough to mark the day as starting. Enough to feel like something other than shadow.

When the water finished heating, he poured it evenly, the steam curling gently around his face before dissolving into the still air. The scent of roasted tea leaves slowly filled the room, mingling with sunlight.

She was still asleep when he passed the bedroom door, or at least pretending to be. Her breathing was slow. He didn’t disturb her.

Instead, he returned to the low table and unrolled the scroll she’d tucked into her notebook the day before.

Every line was mapped, every observation coded, not for secrecy, but clarity. She’d always been good at field notes. Better than most. She didn’t embellish. She didn’t speculate without a pattern to prove.

Sasuke traced the ink with his eyes, cross-referencing her notes with his from the day before. Warehouse access points. Ryoma’s movement patterns. Guard rotations. It was all laid out plainly, like puzzle pieces waiting for someone to name the shape.

He was in the middle of committing the last section to memory when the bedroom curtain rustled faintly behind him.

Soft footsteps followed.

Sakura appeared in the doorway a few moments later, wrapped in her linen sleep robe, hair slightly mussed at the ends. She didn’t greet him, just blinked once at the brightness of the room, then followed the scent of tea with her eyes to the table.

She paused when she saw the scroll, then him.

“You were up early,” she murmured, voice husky from sleep.

“You have a meeting with Ryoma again,” Sasuke said simply.

She walked over, kneeling across from him. Her hands moved automatically, pouring her own tea, accepting the warmth without comment. The first sip passed between them in silence.

Only then did she speak.

“He mentioned a northern contact last night. Not by name. But he was drunk enough to brag about sealing deals on scrolls that never hit the registry.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, eyes flicking down to her notes. “That has to be connected to the movement from the warehouse. It’s too clean.”

Sasuke nodded slightly. “I mapped the rooftop patterns. There’s a blind corridor just beyond the tannery. I didn’t engage, but the guards rotated in pairs.”

Sakura took another sip. “You think it’s a relay post?”

“Could be. Or a holding site before redistribution. They’re careful not to bring too much in or out at once.”

Her fingers brushed across a corner of the scroll. “If we can catch who they’re moving it for, we can trace the funding.”

Sasuke leaned back slightly, arms crossing.

“They’re not expecting pressure. Not yet.”

Sakura nodded again, thoughtful. “Which means we have to push before they do.”

There was a quiet between them then, not the awkward kind, but a space filled with strategy. Like war table conversations before a siege. Two minds mapping the same path in different ways.

He watched her as she rolled the scroll back up.

There were faint lines under her eyes now, just barely visible in the morning light. A small tug at her sleeve. The wear of long nights spent pretending to belong in rooms that made her skin crawl.

Sakura moved toward the bed, gathering the pins she had left near the mirror and slipping them into her pouch one by one. Her robe rustled faintly as she moved, her expression unreadable in the growing morning light.

Sasuke remained by the table, the last of the tea cooling in his cup.

She paused once, her back half-turned to him, then spoke without ceremony, like she was just giving another field update. “I won’t be coming back tonight.”

Sasuke looked up.

Her voice was even, clipped. “Ryoma expects me to stay. He’s been hinting at it for days, and if I refuse again, he’ll start questioning why.”

She didn’t turn around yet. Her hands moved automatically as she folded a second outer robe, slipping it into her shoulder bag.

“I’ll keep the seal active. You’ll know if anything goes wrong.”

Her tone wasn’t casual. But it wasn’t hesitant either. She didn’t dress it in apology. She simply said it because it needed to be said.

Because it was part of the mission.

Still, the words hung in the air like something heavier than either of them wanted to name.

Sasuke set his cup down, fingers resting along the rim. He said nothing at first.

He didn’t ask what “stay the night” meant. He didn’t need to.

Instead, his eyes dropped slightly, gaze lingering on the fabric folded neatly in her hands, the red robe she wore to Ryoma’s estate. The one designed to flatter. To disarm.

Sakura finally turned to him then, her bag resting lightly against her hip. She looked composed. And that only made it worse. Because she wasn’t asking for protection.

Sasuke gave a quiet nod. It was all he could offer.

Sakura looked at him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, then slipped on her sandals and stepped toward the door.

“I’ll report back tomorrow morning,” she said. “Check the east seal before dusk.”

He nodded again, this time without looking up.

The apartment was quiet again.

It wasn’t emptiness, not exactly. It was presence without noise. Her cup was still on the table, still damp with steam. Her scent lingered on the robe left hanging by the mirror. Her scrolls lay untouched and sealed. She had left the way she always did.

And now, she was gone for the night.

Sasuke hadn’t moved from the table in the hour since she left. Not really. The tea had gone cold. The sun had risen fully now, pushing warm light through the blinds and catching the dust in slow golden trails. The sounds of the city had returned outside, vendors opening stalls, distant music drifting through open shutters, the muffled clatter of early traffic.

But inside, it remained still.

He heard a rustle of wings.

Sasuke lifted his head just in time to see the messenger bird land on the outer sill, claws tapping lightly against the wood. A hawk. Not local. Its dark feathers shimmered once in the sun.

Kakashi’s mark was tied to its leg.

Sasuke rose and crossed the room in two quiet steps, unfastening the scroll and watching as the bird took off again, a clean black streak against the light.

The scroll was thin. Sealed in the old code, nothing visible until chakra touched it.

He cracked the seal with two fingers then black ink bloomed across the page.

To: Uchiha Sasuke
From: Sixth Hokage

Received your report. Details on southern activity match what we’ve intercepted from Sand. Smuggling network confirmed; foreign weapons traced to old border stations now inactive. Movement through Riverlands likely financed by minor nobles evading trade sanctions post-conflict.

We’ll need confirmation of leadership hierarchy. Prioritize name extraction. Focus on funders, not carriers. Sakura’s mission is central to that.

Intel from your side matches civilian chatter.

Maintain low exposure.

Let her lead.

—Hatake Kakashi

Sasuke stared at the final line for a long moment. Let her lead.

Kakashi’s way of saying don’t get in her way. His way of saying trust her.

Sasuke didn’t need the reminder. He had been letting her lead from the moment he arrived.

Because she knew this city. She knew this game. And more than that, she had chosen this assignment not just for what it was, but for what it wasn’t.

It wasn’t home.

It wasn’t waiting.

Sasuke slowly rolled the scroll back up, the ink now invisible again to anyone else who might try to read it. He placed it in her sealed box on the desk, he didn’t hide it, didn’t burn it. But he didn’t keep it close either.

He returned to his seat and stared down at the empty cushion across from him.

Where she had sat hours earlier. Where she had passed him the scroll without a glance. Where she had told him in neutral voice, that she wouldn’t be coming back tonight.

Sasuke stepped out of the apartment around midday, the heat of the sun already softening as it curved westward through the sky. The air smelled of ash, river water, and the faint smoke of incense drifting from merchant stalls along the main street. This place was a sprawl. Stone paths between low buildings, red paper lanterns strung between beams, casting long shadows against faded walls.

The people here moved fast, not with purpose. Not like shinobi. They bustled, shouted, traded, argued over prices and reputation. They didn’t look twice at him.

Just the way he wanted it.

But the more he moved, the more he noticed the architecture of secrets.

Nothing here was what it appeared to be.

Shops were fronts. Lounges were coded meeting spots. Dancers wore layers of smiles that never reached their eyes. Gambling dens shared walls with silent warehouses. And everywhere he went, someone was watching, but never the same person twice.

It was a city that pretended not to look. But it watched everything.

And somewhere in this smoke-choked maze, Sakura had made herself invisible.

He passed the teahouse district around mid-afternoon, trailing a pair of men from the tannery who lingered too long at a courier’s drop. He kept his hood low, his pace natural. He didn’t need to follow them all the way. Just enough to confirm that the path between the market square and the southern warehouse had another access point.

He marked it. Mentally, physically. Two guards. One passive, one trained. Not dressed as shinobi, but he saw it in the way they shifted their weight.

He didn’t engage. Sakura would cross-reference the route tomorrow. By sundown, the city began to change.

The color of the streets shifted from warm orange to blood-lit red. Lanterns glowed above painted signs. Doors opened to laughter that never sounded real. Music drifted between buildings in uncertain melodies, soft strings, shakuhachi, and the kind of percussion that pulsed like a heartbeat just under the surface.

He paused outside a bar on one of the upper decks.

Not a high-end house. Not one Sakura would be performing at.

But there were women there with hair pinned like hers, walking past men with wide grins and slow hands. One of them laughed as she adjusted her sleeve, letting it slip farther down her shoulder. She passed him by with a glance, didn’t look twice.

For a brief second, he imagined it was her. Then hated himself for it.

He moved on.

Farther east, he found the market stalls thinning, replaced by gambling dens and drink halls. In one of them, he caught sight of a man in Ryoma’s retinue, older, quiet, a silver edge to his hair. He ducked into a side building, alone.

Sasuke filed the detail away.

The street lamps were being lit, long poles used to relight oil-wicks. He moved toward a high ridge overlooking the southern dock path. From there, he could see the flow of traffic more clearly.

The warehouse district slept during the day.

But it was waking now.

Three men approached from the opposite side, too well-dressed for dock laborers. They didn’t enter the warehouse. They didn’t even pause. But one of them brushed a hand along the side wall as he passed.

A signal.

Sasuke dropped lower behind the stone overhang. He closed his eyes, committing the route and gesture to memory.

He made his way back toward the apartment as the bells tolled the hour just before full dark. The streets were livelier now, noisy, glowing, full of people pretending not to wear masks. And he walked through it without a sound.

Somewhere in this city, Sakura was laughing at something she didn’t care about.

Sipping wine she didn’t want.

Smiling for a man she planned to take down.

And he had no right to interfere.

That didn’t stop him from noticing the way the breeze caught the smell of her perfume from another woman’s sleeve, or the way that every streetlamp flickering overhead cast a shadow long enough to feel like her absence beside him.

He made it back to the apartment before the moon crested the window. The silence greeted him like it always did now: with memory, not comfort. He sat at the table. And waited for sleep that wouldn’t come.

But the night had a way of thickening, turning the silence heavy, filled with things left unsaid. Sasuke couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something lurking in the shadows, something he had missed.

Maybe it was just his instinct pulling at him, the same gut feeling that had saved him countless times in the past. He closed his eyes and let the stillness envelop him, but had series of broken thoughts, fragments of images, each one leading to the same inevitable conclusion.

This mission wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The streetlights outside flickered, casting momentary glimmers of light into the dark corners of the apartment. He stared at the space where Sakura had been before, where her presence still lingered in the form of a warm, fleeting memory, and tried to block out the feelings gnawing at him from the inside.

He didn't want to care. Not about her. Not about what she was doing, or how she was doing it. She was on this mission just as much as he was.

Chapter Text

Sakura returned home at dawn, the faint light of the early morning creeping in through the gaps in the curtains. The street was still quiet, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees outside, and the soft echo of footsteps on the stone streets.

The door clicked softly as she pushed it open, and Sasuke stirred from where he lay, his eyes fluttering open at the sound. It was almost as if he had been waiting for it, that soft click of the door signaling her return.

He didn’t move at first, his eyes still half-lidded, tracing the shadows of the room in that way he always did. But when he finally met her gaze, it was unreadable, a mix of tiredness and something deeper, something that lingered between them like the air they both shared.

Sakura didn’t break the silence immediately. She set the basket down on the small wooden table and began to unpack the food she brought.

She hadn’t expected him to say anything. In fact, she preferred it this way, no need for words when the tension between them spoke volumes.

“Breakfast,” she said simply, her voice quieter than usual, still laced with the weight of the night’s events.

Sasuke sat up, pushing the blanket aside and rising without a word. Sakura had already knelt by the low table, unwrapping the box and pulling out two bowls from the shelf. The smell of grilled fish and warm miso rose gently into the air, faint against the morning chill.

He took the cup she poured him and drank without hesitation. The warmth of the tea was grounding, but it didn’t fill the space that had hollowed out between them these past few days.

It was the smallest of gestures, but she could tell he appreciated it. He reached forward and grabbed a piece of the bread, tearing it slowly. She watched him, her thoughts still whirling from the mission.

Sakura finished her food first, setting her bowl aside. She reached into her sleeve pouch, pulled out a scroll already half-unfurled, and laid it flat between them.

"I’ve made progress," she said, breaking the silence at last. Her voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of urgency beneath it. "I’ve got the names of the funders."

Sasuke paused mid-bite, his dark eyes meeting hers. His posture remained rigid, but she could feel the subtle shift in his attention. He was listening now, fully engaged.

“I’ve confirmed it," Sakura continued, her voice carrying the weight of the revelation. “Ryoma let it slip when he mentioned delivery routes. Called it ‘his share’.”

Sasuke leaned forward looking at the scroll she brought from her sleeves. Her handwriting was clipped. There were three names.

He set the bread down, his fingers still lingering around it. The details she was providing were more important than the meal itself now.

Her finger moved to another name. “This one’s a noble from the border provinces. Thought dead after the war. Turns out, he’s been financing black-market weapons through a trading alias.”

The third name was barely visible, smudged at the corner of the scroll.

“I only heard it once. Ryoma muttered it when he thought I wasn’t listening. I didn’t push. Not yet.”

Sasuke said nothing, but his eyes narrowed slightly, committing each name to memory.

Sakura reached for another scroll, this one a map. She unrolled it with a flick of her wrist and pointed to a location circled in soft red ink.

“The Jade Pavilion. Main event of the city’s festival. Three nights from now.”

He looked down at the layout. A performance hall layered with decorative courtyards, koi ponds, and closed off rooftop paths. A security labyrinth masked behind opulence.

“They’ll all be there?”

She nodded. “All four. I don’t have the last name, but I’ll get it.”

Sasuke looked up. “And you?”

“Ryoma requested me to serve his table. Kenjiro will be seated there.” The silence that followed wasn’t surprise.

It was inevitability.

“You’ll be alone with them,” he said.

Her reply came without hesitation. “I’ve been alone with worse.” It didn’t sound arrogance.

Sasuke’s gaze dropped to the map again. “Reinforcements?”

Sakura shook her head. “No. We can’t risk it. The Pavilion is sealed with chakra-sensitive wards. Any third signature could blow the cover. You and I are already pushing the edge of stealth.”

He exhaled slowly. “I get to Kenjiro’s table. I serve him. I let him drink. Nobles like him talk too much when they want to feel powerful.”

“And when he does?”

“If I hear what I think I will, if he confirms the fourth name or hints at their next move, I’ll trigger the silent mark I left on the Pavilion’s northern frame.”

Sasuke’s eyes lifted. “And me?”

“You intercept the delivery afterwards. It’ll move through the warehouse under the distraction of fireworks.”

There was another pause.

Neither of them moved.

The plan was sound. The risks were sharp. The timing would have to be perfect.

Sakura finally sat back, brushing her hair over one shoulder, the sleeve of her robe sliding slightly as she reached for her cup again.

“I’ll handle the Pavilion,” she said, not asking for approval. “You take the shipment. We’ll converge after it’s secure.”

Sasuke nodded once. There was no warmth in the room. But for the first time in a while, there was alignment.

She rose, folding the map back with practiced hands, and stepped toward the wash basin. Light was beginning to bleed into the edges of the window, outlining her silhouette in gold.

Behind her, Sasuke remained seated, eyes still on the scroll.

Three days. And then it would begin.

By noon, the light had turned golden through the blinds, and the street below hummed with the start of festival preparations. Sakura moved around the kitchen in a linen wrap, her hair loosely tied up, while Sasuke remained seated at the low table, reviewing previous mission scrolls.

Lunch was simple, steamed rice with sweet soy, pickled daikon, and warm egg over broth. They ate in silence. Until the soft sound of wings fluttering through the window broke it.

A hawk.

It landed on the windowsill with a quiet thud, a small bundle of letters tied to its leg. Sakura stood and moved toward it, an amused smile tugging at her lips. She untied the note, reading the small slip of paper attached.

"Ino," she said aloud, eyes scanning the writing.

She opened the letter, unfolding the parchment with practiced hands. Her lips twitched as she read, then exhaled softly, half-amused and half-touched. "She’s inviting us to her baby shower."

Sasuke looked up, eyes narrowing slightly. "Us?"

"Mm," Sakura passed him the second letter, still smiling softly. "Apparently she sent one for you too. Said something about making sure you don’t skip out like last time."

He took the letter, his brow furrowing slightly as he examined the neat, floral ink and Ino's emphatic handwriting. Sasuke didn’t comment, his expression unreadable.

Sakura was smiling softly, rereading her own letter. "She always makes these things so colorful," she murmured, and something about the note had her eyes linger just a moment too long.

Her voice dipped, thoughtful. "Shikamaru got married last month, with Temari." She paused. "I didn’t make it. I was already out here."

She reached for her cup of tea and stared down at it as she cradled it in both hands.

"I meant to go back just for the day. I even had the train route marked. But the report came in about Ryoma that same morning. I couldn’t leave it."

Sasuke remained quiet, listening. He didn’t offer comfort—didn’t need to. She wasn’t searching for any.

A long breath passed through her nose.

"Everyone’s getting married," she said, her voice distant now. "Starting families."

She lifted her tea, taking a sip, her eyes tracing the rim of the cup. The warmth seemed to seep through her fingertips, grounding her in the present moment.

She leaned back, her shoulders relaxing, a small smile tugging at her lips. It wasn’t a sad smile, but one of quiet contentment, a recognition of how much had changed.

"And here I am." The words slipped out quietly, not out of regret, but more as an acknowledgment of how much time had passed and how things had changed.

He didn’t respond, just watched her quietly. There was a softness in her features that hadn’t been there before, but it wasn’t about him. She had grown beyond needing anything from him.

Sasuke’s eyes flicked to her for a brief moment, the question slipping from his mouth before he realized it. "What are your plans after the mission?" he asked, his voice low, not looking at her.

Sakura blinked in surprise at the question, taken off guard. She hadn’t expected him to ask, not about the future. She hesitated, her mind working quickly. Her answer came slowly, as if she were considering it for the first time.

"Hoping that I can make it to the baby shower," she said with a small shake of her head, her voice steady. "It’s one week from now." She gave a soft sigh, a hint of resignation in her tone, but it was brief.

Sasuke watched her closely, as her words trailed off and she turned her attention back to her tea. There was no immediate answer to his question, nothing that gave him a sense of her intentions after the mission was over. She had deflected, subtly shifting the focus onto something else, the baby shower.

He noted the way she paused before speaking, as if the question itself had caught her off guard. Her response about the baby shower was calm, matter-of-fact, but there was something in the way she said it that made him wonder.

Sasuke had been asking, out of curiosity more than anything. He didn’t push it. He never did. But there was something in her quiet evasion that stuck with him. A subtle shift in her gaze, the way she closed herself off in that small but deliberate way, as though her future was something she didn’t need to share with him anymore.

Sasuke shifted his gaze from her to the window.

For a brief moment, he wondered if he even wanted to know the answer.

Chapter Text

The day had arrived.

The city was alive with energy as the festival preparations reached their peak. Stalls lined the streets, filled with vibrant colors and the sound of vendors calling out their wares. The scent of incense mingled with the smoke from street food vendors, filling the air with warmth and a sense of celebration.

The Jade Pavilion stood majestically against the backdrop of the setting sun. Its delicate architecture, with sweeping eaves and intricate carvings, glimmered in the light, a structure meant for both beauty and function.

The soft flicker of lanterns cast long shadows across the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of incense, perfume, and the sharp tang of expensive alcohol. Music flowed gently in the background, blending seamlessly with the hum of low conversation. It was a place for secrets to be whispered, deals to be struck, and desires to be hidden in plain sight.

Sakura stepped out into the heart of the Pavilion, her entrance seamless. She moved with an almost hypnotic grace, the soft rustle of her sultry kimono echoing as the fabric shifted with each step.

It clung to her form in a way that felt deliberate, accentuating her curves, leaving little to the imagination. The kimono was black, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light, the sleeves flowing like a river of silk. Her hair, carefully styled, cascaded down her back in perfect waves, the intricate hairpins sparkling in the dim light. She was every inch the courtesan, a work of art, designed to captivate.

Kenjiro’s eyes were drawn to her immediately.

He was seated at a low, circular table surrounded by a few select guests, but the moment Sakura approached, all other conversations stopped. Her presence seemed to command the entire room. She was the embodiment of temptation, a delicate balance of elegance and seduction.

She approached Kenjiro slowly, her eyes meeting his with a knowing glimmer. There was a faint, almost imperceptible smile on her lips, the kind that invited trust and promises of something more. As she neared him, she lowered herself gracefully to the floor beside his table, her movements fluid, practiced.

"Kenjiro-sama," her voice smooth as velvet, but with an edge that only he would hear, one meant to seduce and entice. She leaned closer, her hand brushing lightly against his arm as she poured him a drink.

Sasuke watched from the shadows, his sharp, calculating gaze never leaving them. There was something about how Sakura was playing the part that caught his attention. He had seen her many times before, strong and focused on the mission, but now she was different. She had slipped into a seductive role, one she had clearly perfected.

The familiar Sakura he knew seemed to have vanished, replaced by someone playful, alluring, every movement drawing her deeper into the dangerous game they were playing.

Her fingers grazed the edge of Kenjiro’s glass, and he leaned forward almost instantly, his voice low and coaxing. "You’re a far cry from the serious woman I was told about."

Sakura smiled, eyes bright and mischievous. "I can be whatever you desire, Kenjiro-sama," she whispered, her breath soft against his ear as she poured him more wine, letting her fingers graze his skin just long enough to make the moment linger.

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. The Sakura he knew would never let herself become part of this manipulation, never allow herself to be so vulnerable in such a game. Yet, as he observed, her laughter was light, teasing. Her touches seemed almost electric, her body pressing so close to Kenjiro’s that the space between them barely existed. Every movement, every word was carefully chosen to provoke.

Kenjiro was intoxicated, not just by the wine, but by her proximity. His hand moved instinctively, brushing against her arm in what he thought was a playful gesture. But Sasuke saw the hunger in his eyes, the lust that had begun to consume him.

Sasuke stayed hidden in the shadows, but his focus wavered slightly. He knew his role, spot the other confirmed funders in the Pavilion, those who were the true threat to the mission. But it was hard to ignore the way Kenjiro’s gaze lingered on Sakura, the way his body leaned closer to hers with every word, every touch.

A flicker of irritation twisted in Sasuke’s chest, but he forced it down, keeping his expression neutral. His mind stayed sharp, scanning the room for any signs of danger. He had to stay focused on the mission.

His eyes shifted to the entrances, his focus moving from Sakura and Kenjiro to the other potential threats. A few unfamiliar faces had entered the Pavilion, men dressed in dark robes, their movements too calculated to be ordinary guests. Sasuke’s instincts kicked in. They were here. The other funders had arrived.

His eyes returned to Sakura and Kenjiro, but his focus remained split. Sakura was in control. She was making Kenjiro believe he had the upper hand, when in reality, she was the one orchestrating everything with surgical precision.

As if on cue, Kenjiro reached out and placed his hand on her waist, his fingers grazing the silk of her kimono. It was a bold move, an assertion of his desire. Sasuke’s jaw tightened, and his body tensed, though his gaze remained steady. His instincts screamed at him to intervene, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until the plan was complete.

Sakura’s eyes flicked briefly to the side, her lips curling into a small, almost imperceptible smile. It wasn’t one of affection, but one of quiet satisfaction. She had Kenjiro’s attention, and she was pulling him deeper into her web, step by calculated step.

Sasuke’s attention snapped back to Sakura and Kenjiro, though. He watched as she leaned closer to Kenjiro, her lips barely a breath away from his ear, whispering something meant only for him. Kenjiro leaned in, his body drawn to her, consumed by the moment.

Kenjiro’s hand slid further up her thigh, his fingers pressing firmly against the silk of her kimono. Sasuke’s breath hitched. His gaze followed the movement, his chest tightening as his mind screamed at him to intervene. To step forward. To stop this.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Sasuke clenched his fist, the muscles in his arms locking as he fought to suppress the rising tide of emotions. His gaze hardened, pulse quickening. Kenjiro was so absorbed in her, so consumed by the heat of the moment, that he couldn’t see the danger before him. Sasuke’s mind raced, but the jealousy gnawed at him, sharp and relentless.

Kenjiro was kissing her neck now, his lips trailing over her skin with an intimacy that made Sasuke’s stomach churn. Sakura’s body responded with practiced grace, every move designed to draw Kenjiro further in.

But Sasuke couldn’t tear his eyes away. The way she allowed him to touch her, the way she controlled the situation, it was both brilliant and painful for him.

He hated the feeling, this twisted sense of wariness and he hated that Kenjiro had his hands on her, that Kenjiro’s lips were on her neck.

This was someone else, someone who’s enjoying the role.  He was so close to stepping forward, to pulling her away from him.

Not until the plan was finished, not until he knew the exact moment to strike.

But damn it, it was hard. So hard to watch her, so close to someone else.

He needed to keep his focus. But for now, as he watched the scene unfold before him, Sasuke’s mind couldn’t help but linger on one thing.

She wasn’t his anymore, not in the way he wanted her to be.

And that realization burned deeper than anything else.

Chapter Text

The atmosphere inside the Jade Pavilion grew even more charged as the four funders made their way to the table. The soft rustling of silk kimonos, the distant sound of music, and the quiet murmurs of other guests filled the room, but none of it reached the table where the real power players sat.

The men arrived, one by one, their presence commanding immediate attention. They were the hidden faces behind the operations in the city, the ones whose deals and alliances determined the pulse of power. Tonight, their plans would be laid bare, and the consequences would shape the future of everything.

Sasuke remained in the shadows, his gaze never wavering. He knew these men by reputation, each one a dangerous figure, each one part of the web they had been working to unravel. Their plan was one that had been in motion for years, a delicate orchestration of wealth, influence, and power. But tonight, that web was about to be exposed.

The first to take his seat was Kenjiro, who had remained at the table, still enraptured by Sakura’s presence. His hand rested on her thigh, though his attention was no longer entirely on her. His eyes moved to the other funders as they joined him, and with them, the conversation took a shift.

The second to arrive was the imposing figure of Takahiro, his broad shoulders towering over those around him. His stern face was the picture of confidence, and the air around him seemed to chill as he settled beside Kenjiro. Takahiro’s eyes flicked briefly to Sakura, taking in her beauty and poise, but his focus quickly turned to the matter at hand. He was here to do business, and nothing would distract him from it.

Next was Hiroshi, a man whose quiet demeanor masked the ruthlessness beneath. He was sleek in his movements, his tailored black robes fitting him perfectly. The faintest smile played on his lips as he settled into his seat, exchanging a few words with Kenjiro before turning his attention to the others. Hiroshi’s mind was always calculating, and Sasuke knew he was one of the most dangerous figures in this gathering.

Finally, there was Kaito, who moved with a grace that belied the danger he carried. His sharp, calculating eyes scanned the room before focusing on the group at the table. His presence was understated, but there was an air of authority that settled around him the moment he entered the room. He, too, spared a glance at Sakura, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he took his seat.

Each of them had their courtesans in tow, elegant women, each more captivating than the last, their roles clear as they settled beside the men, their bodies pressed close, their hands soft as they offered drinks and comfort. They, too, played their parts in the game that was unfolding.

Sakura remained beside Kenjiro, her role just as defined. She poured the tea with quiet precision, the motion of her hands delicate as she served Kenjiro and the others. She was a vision of grace, each movement an intricate part of the dance, her body leaning close to Kenjiro’s, her fingers brushing his arm as she refilled his cup.

Her gaze never wavered from Kenjiro as she leaned in, letting the warmth of her breath brush his ear while she whispered something only he could hear. Kenjiro’s eyes flickered with something darker, something primal, as his hand tightened around her waist, but she didn’t flinch. She had him exactly where she needed him.

Sasuke’s eyes flicked from one funder to the next, noting every subtle shift in their posture, every glance exchanged. These men were too comfortable, too confident in their power. But there was something in their eyes, something that told Sasuke that they knew the plan was already in motion. The city was already under their control, but tonight, they would finalize it.

Takahiro, the first to speak, broke the silence with a low, measured voice. "The city is nearly under our control. The final phase will begin once the governor signs the papers. We’ve secured all the key positions in the government. From there, we’ll move fast." He looked around the table, his gaze sharp. "There’s no turning back now."

Sakura continued to serve the tea, her movements slow and deliberate, listening as Takahiro outlined their progress. He was a man of action, and his words were firm with a sense of finality. The wheels of their operation were already in motion, and everything was about to fall into place.

Hiroshi, the quiet strategist, chimed in next, his voice smooth as velvet. "We’ve already begun to infiltrate the city’s most powerful businesses. Our influence is spreading. It’s just a matter of tightening our grip. Once the political piece falls into place, we’ll have access to all the financial resources we need." He paused for a moment, eyeing Kenjiro before continuing, his gaze sharp. "And once we have control of the city’s infrastructure, we can move on to the next stage."

The weight of his words hung in the air. Sasuke remained in his corner, his eyes flicking between the funders as they continued discussing their plans. They were building something dangerous, an empire based on manipulation, control, and power. Each word was a thread, each sentence pulling them closer to their goal.

Kenjiro, his interest piqued by the mention of infrastructure, leaned forward, his hand briefly tightening on Sakura’s thigh. "And what of the military?" he asked, his voice thick with alcohol, but still managing to convey the seriousness of the question. "We need to secure the armed forces to guarantee our position."

Kaito, who had been silent until now, responded with a slight smile. "We’ve already placed our people in key positions within the military. They won’t be able to stop us. The generals are already on our payroll. We just need to ensure the rest of the city falls into line." He turned to Kenjiro, his tone cold and calculated. "Once the political and military power is in our hands, no one will dare oppose us."

The men nodded in agreement, their eyes glinting with the certainty of victory. They had made their plans, and they were so confident in their success that they hadn’t considered the possibility of failure. They were too deep in their own machinations, too blinded by their ambition to see what lay ahead.

Sasuke’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his weapon, his body tensing as he listened to the plan unfold. He had always known they were dangerous, but hearing the details, hearing how far they had already gone, made the weight of the situation sink in deeper. These men weren’t just playing at power, they were ready to take it all. And they would stop at nothing to make sure their empire was built.

As the conversation continued, Sasuke’s focus remained on the men at the table. They were almost too confident in their plans, too certain that everything would go according to their vision. But Sasuke knew better. He had seen how quickly things could fall apart when someone underestimated their opponents. And tonight, they were doing just that.

Takahiro stood up, signaling the end of the conversation. "We’ll finalize the details by tomorrow. Once the governor signs the deal, we move. Everything is in place. All we need to do is pull the strings."

The other men nodded in agreement, their faces a mixture of satisfaction and greed. Kenjiro, still lost in his infatuation with Sakura, barely registered the gravity of the moment. His hands, now firmly on her waist, made it clear he was distracted, consumed by desire.

Sasuke’s eyes flicked to the door as more guests entered the Pavilion, their movements calculated. The other funders had arrived. Their role in the plan was almost finished, and the final piece would soon be in place.

Sasuke’s mind raced. The endgame was upon them. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He had to stay vigilant. There would be no more time for subtlety. The next move would decide everything.

Sakura remained by Kenjiro’s side, her smile deepening as the men around the table settled back into their seats, discussing finer details, unaware of the consequences that would soon follow. But she had done her part, gathering the information, pulling them into her web, and now, it was Sasuke’s turn to act.

He waited, his muscles tense, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The plan was coming together, but there was no turning back now.

The night had reached its crescendo, the conversation at the table winding down as the four funders discussed their plans in low, measured tones. The air was thick with the scent of wine and the promise of power. Sasuke remained in the shadows, ever watchful, his mind sharp and focused as the final pieces of their plan began to fall into place.

Sakura, still by Kenjiro’s side, played her part flawlessly. Her body leaned close to him, her whispers in his ear, each one pulling him deeper under her spell.

Sasuke watched her, the familiar pang of jealousy tightening in his chest. But there was no time for that now. No time for emotions.

His mind was already elsewhere, focusing on the task ahead. He had one job. One moment to strike.

The signal had been given, Sakura’s brief, almost imperceptible nod from across the room. It was enough. He turned, slipping into the shadows, making his way toward the exit.

He remembered the plan clearly, the way they had discussed every detail a few days ago, making sure everything was set for tonight. It was a night of distractions, the festival, the fireworks that would light the sky, and the chaos they would create. Sakura’s voice echoed in his mind as he moved through the corridors of the Pavilion.

The warehouse was located just a few blocks away, tucked into the darker side of the city. No one would think twice about a shipment moving under the noise of the celebrations. The distraction would give Sasuke the perfect window of opportunity to move without being noticed.

Sasuke moved quickly, his steps quiet but purposeful. He had already mapped out the route to the warehouse, his mind racing through contingencies. There could be no mistakes tonight. The moment he intercepted the delivery, the plan would be in motion. They had to take control of the operation before it reached its final stage.

As he neared the back exit of the Pavilion, the muffled sound of fireworks erupted outside. The first burst of color lit up the night sky, followed by a series of quick explosions, their booming echoes reverberating through the streets. The festival had begun. The distraction had started.

Sasuke’s pace quickened. He could hear the chatter from the front of the Pavilion, the laughter of guests now drowned out by the fireworks. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, blending into the shadows as he slipped through the side entrance and into the narrow alley.

The delivery would move soon. The warehouse was just a short distance away, tucked behind an old merchant district. Sasuke knew the area well, he had been through it countless times during his missions, always staying out of sight, always staying in control.

The stakes were higher than ever before. The future of the city, the success of the mission, depended on him intercepting the shipment without anyone noticing.

The fireworks continued overhead, their bright bursts illuminating the dark sky. Sasuke’s mind was sharp, his movements swift as he crossed the alley and approached the side entrance of the warehouse. He crouched low, his eyes scanning the area. The guards had been distracted by the noise, their attention diverted to the lights above. This was his moment.

He crept closer, silent as a shadow, until he reached the door. It was slightly ajar, just as he had expected. He pushed it open carefully, his senses on high alert. Inside, crates were stacked high, the scent of wood and oil filling the air. Sasuke’s eyes flicked to the far end of the room, where a large delivery had been scheduled to arrive. He knew it was there, he had seen the plans, had studied the route, and now everything was falling into place.

He moved out from the shadows, drawing his weapon in one fluid motion. The guards had no time to react as he swept through, taking them down silently, efficiently. 

As the delivery cart came to a stop, Sasuke was already in position, his eyes locked onto the crates being unloaded. The shipment was exactly as he had expected. This was the final piece of their operation, the one thing that would shift everything in their favor.

He couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He had to act now.

Sasuke moved swiftly, his senses sharp as he scanned the warehouse. The crates were stacked high, the air thick with dust and the faint scent of oil and metal. But there was something off about this shipment. As he approached the first crate, his hand brushed against the rough wood, his mind racing with the knowledge of what was at stake. He knew this wasn’t just any delivery, it wasn’t just weapons, drugs, or contraband.

It was something worse.

His hand fell to the lock of the crate, the metallic click of it unlocking echoing in the silence. He slowly pried the lid open. What he saw inside made his blood run cold.

Forbidden scrolls, dark ninjutsu, jutsu that was forbidden by the very foundations of the shinobi world. The scrolls were wrapped in dark cloth, their markings glowing faintly with a sinister aura. Weapons for destruction, this wasn’t just a delivery; it was a weaponization of the most dangerous kind. The sheer destructive power in these crates was enough to annihilate an entire city, and more.

His eyes widened in realization. This was bigger than he had anticipated.

The sound of movement in the next room brought him back to focus. The guards, the port workers, were still unaware of the true danger they were handling. He had to act quickly. He couldn’t let this shipment leave the warehouse, and he couldn’t let anyone live to reveal what had been hidden here.

Sasuke moved silently, drawing his blade as he crouched in the shadows. He could hear the muffled voices of the men in the next room, their casual conversation masking the imminent danger. He needed to eliminate them, one by one, without making a sound.

He stepped into the corridor, moving quickly and quietly. The first guard stood near the entrance, unaware of Sasuke’s approach. His back was to him. A single, fluid movement, Sasuke’s sword sliced through the air, and the man dropped without a sound. His body crumpled to the floor, lifeless before it hit the ground.

His eyes darted to the next guard standing near the crate stacks, inspecting the goods. Sasuke moved again, faster this time. A shadow in the night, his blade struck with precision. The man never saw him coming, Sasuke’s katana pierced through his neck, silencing him before his body even had a chance to hit the ground.

Two down.

Sasuke’s heart remained steady, his mind locked into the mission. He didn’t care about the lives of these men, he only cared about stopping this plan from reaching its conclusion. Every life he took here was one less link in the chain that would bind this city to its destruction.

He moved through the warehouse with deadly efficiency, marking the enemies one by one. Each guard was a fleeting target, easily dispatched in the shadows. He had no time to waste. The port, the delivery point, was just outside. He needed to make sure that not a single person left the area alive, not a single soul could leak what was going on here.

As he reached the back of the warehouse, he could hear the muffled sounds of the delivery crew loading crates onto a cart. The last group of men was preparing to leave. Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. He had no time left.

He stepped into the open space, his footsteps completely drowned out by the ongoing fireworks outside, the distractions that were keeping everyone occupied. He could hear their voices now, louder. The men in the port. There were four of them, all standing near the cart, their attention split between the operation and the party happening nearby.

Sasuke didn’t hesitate. He moved in a flash, his blade cutting through the first guard’s throat before the man could even turn. The second guard went down next, his body dropped to the floor without a sound. Sasuke’s eyes flicked to the remaining two, who had just begun to turn at the noise of their companions falling. They barely had time to react before Sasuke was on them, his katana slashing with deadly precision.

The third guard never even had time to raise his weapon. The fourth man reached for his blade, but Sasuke was faster, his sword sinking into the man’s chest before he could draw it fully.

The last of the guards fell, and Sasuke stood in the silence, his chest steady, his mind clear. There was no fear, no hesitation. He wiped his blade clean, and his gaze swept over the bodies scattered around him. His work was done here.

But the task wasn’t finished.

Sasuke turned toward the crates one last time, his eyes scanning the forbidden scrolls and the deadly weapons within. These had to be destroyed. The city could not afford to have them fall into the wrong hands.

With a single, swift motion, Sasuke began to destroy the crates, tearing through them with his blade, cutting apart the forbidden scrolls, ensuring that nothing of this operation would survive. The weapons and scrolls were the key to everything, and Sasuke wouldn’t let them fall into the wrong hands.

As the last crate splintered open, the fireworks continued to boom in the distance, the noise masking the destruction he was leaving in his wake. Sasuke knew the work wasn’t over. There was still much to be done. The funders were still out there, unaware of the devastation unfolding around them. But for now, this warehouse was no longer a threat.

He turned on his heel and moved swiftly back into the shadows, disappearing from the scene just as the last remnants of the warehouse crumbled under the weight of his actions. The path was cleared.

The shadows of the warehouse district were long and dark as Sasuke approached the rendezvous point. The street was quiet, save for the distant bursts of fireworks that continued to echo through the night, masking the sounds of their movements. The plan was clear, but the weight of what he had just uncovered in the warehouse, the forbidden scrolls, the weapons of mass destruction still gnawed at him. This was bigger than he had expected.

But there was no time to dwell on it now.

Sasuke quickened his pace, his steps quiet but urgent, as he neared the alley where they had agreed to meet. The flickering light of a lantern barely illuminated the area, casting long, soft shadows. And there, standing by the corner, was Sakura.

She had been waiting for him.

Sasuke approached her, his expression unreadable as he made his way through the dim light. He handed her the leather pouch, still feeling the weight of the forbidden scrolls and weapons he had destroyed back at the warehouse. "The shipment is gone," he said, his voice low and steady. "They won’t be using those weapons."

Sakura nodded, her gaze steady as she took the pouch from him, her fingers brushing against his as she did. She didn’t flinch. But Sasuke could feel the subtle, brief tension in the air between them.

His eyes flicked down to her neck, instinctively following the line of her collarbone, and then stopping at the spot where Kenjiro’s lips had been earlier, the faint mark still visible in the soft lantern light.

Sakura’s fingers instinctively moved to touch her neck, the action so casual, so absentminded, that it almost went unnoticed. But Sasuke caught it, the way her fingers lingered there for just a moment, as though she, too, could feel the memory of that moment.

The sharp and unfamiliar, twisted in his chest again. It was a brief flicker of an emotion he didn’t have time to dissect, but it lingered nonetheless.

His gaze hardened, and he looked away quickly, forcing his mind back to the mission. "We need to move," Sasuke said, his voice firm, as he stepped back. "The funders won’t be far behind. We need to finish what we started."

Sakura’s eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a quiet understanding between them. She knew what he was feeling, and she knew that it didn’t matter. They had a job to do.

"Yes," she said softly, her voice calm but purposeful. "But there’s something else we need to consider."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Sakura’s expression shifted, the usual calmness now layered with a hint of seriousness. "If we don’t eliminate the funders now, we’ll never be able to track them again. They’ll scatter, go into hiding, and it will be harder to find them after. We’ll lose the trail."

Sasuke’s brow furrowed slightly.

"We bring one back to Konoha for questioning," Sakura said, her eyes steely with determination. "And then, we leave the rest to Kaka-sensei."

Sasuke nodded, his voice low but resolute. "Agreed. We’ll keep Kaito alive. He’s the only one who can give us the answers we need."

He turned as he focused on the direction where the funders had last been seen. "Let’s move."

Chapter Text

The room was heavy with tension. The funders, Kenjiro, Takahiro, Hiroshi, and Kaito were gathered around the table, their voices rising as they discussed the fallout from the disastrous news they had just received.

The news of the destroyed shipment had shaken them, and they were now scrambling to figure out their next move. Panic hung in the air, and the discussions grew heated.

Kenjiro slammed his fist on the table, his calm composure finally cracking. "The shipment was destroyed! Everything we've worked for years, gone! How the hell did they find out?"

Takahiro, usually the calmest of the group, stood up, his hands clenched at his sides. "We need to leave. Now. If the weapons are destroyed, if they’ve tracked us here—" He turned toward Hiroshi and Kaito, frustration in his voice. "We’ve been compromised. This is bigger than we thought."

Kaito’s eyes narrowed as he paced across the room. "No. They couldn’t have just stumbled on us. Someone had to tip them off. The question is who, and why?"

Kenjiro spun around, anger flashing in his eyes. "It doesn't matter now. We need to get out of here. We can’t waste any more time." His hand rested on the hilt of his weapon, the reality of their situation settling in. "If we leave, they’ll be harder to track. But we need to move fast. We'll head to the backup location and lie low."

Just as he finished speaking, the door slammed open.

Sasuke entered first, his eyes glowing with both the Sharingan and the Rinnegan, a dark aura surrounding him. His eyes pulsed with power, the Rinnegan’s ripples shimmering in the dim light as he stepped forward with purpose.

Behind him, Sakura entered. Her Byakugō Seal was clearly visible, glowing faintly with raw chakra, and the power radiating from her was palpable. Her eyes locked onto the funders, her expression cold and determined, the sheer presence of her chakra enough to stir the air around them.

Kenjiro’s breath caught in his throat as the weight of the moment hit him. Uchiha Sasuke and Haruno Sakura, veterans of the war, stood before him, their presence enough to freeze the room. He was the first to react, his hand instinctively going to his sidearm, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. “You...” His voice faltered, disbelief and fear creeping into his words. “You’ve been here the whole time? You were Tsuyu?”

Sakura stepped forward, the faint glow of her Byakugō Seal lit up. "I’ve been playing you all along," she said, her voice unwavering.

Takahiro moved instinctively, drawing a kunai, but before he could make a move, Sasuke was already on him. He moved like a shadow, swift and silent. With a single fluid motion, Sasuke knocked the weapon from Takahiro’s hand and disarmed him in the blink of an eye. The sheer speed left Takahiro no time to react.

Sasuke’s katana flashed once more, a clean strike across Takahiro’s torso, and the man collapsed, gasping for air.

Hiroshi, seeing the battle unfolding before him, lunged toward the door, trying to make a quick escape, but Sakura was already there. She moved in a blur, faster than Hiroshi could react. She charged at Hiroshi, her chakra flaring as she slammed a fist into his stomach. The force of the blow sent him crashing into the ground, gasping for breath. She didn’t wait for him to recover. “SHANNARO!”

Her fist came down again with brutal force, smashing into his chest. The sound of bone breaking filled the air as Takahiro’s body went limp ending his life with a single blow.

Kenjiro trembled with fear. His eyes flicked from Sasuke to Sakura, realization dawning on him.

“Kenjiro,” Sasuke said quietly, his voice cold, almost detached. “This is where it ends.”

Kenjiro, desperately trying to fight back, his hand reaching for his weapon. But Sasuke was already upon him. With an effortless swipe of his katana, he knocked Kenjiro’s weapon from his hand and pinned him against the wall with his forearm.

Kenjiro gasped for breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "You can’t do this..." he gasped, struggling against Sasuke’s hold. "You think you’ve won?"

Sasuke’s Sharingan flashed, the intensity of it enough to freeze Kenjiro in place. “You should have known better." Kenjiro’s eyes widened, the panic now clear on his face. He tried to wriggle free, but Sasuke’s grip tightened.

Sasuke’s katana flashed in the dim light, slicing through Kenjiro’s throat with one swift, final motion. Kenjiro’s body went limp, falling to the floor with a sickening thud.

Sakura stood by, her gaze fixed on the lifeless body of the man who had once been the head of this operation. Her chakra surged once more, but she remained calm, collected.

“We’re not done yet,” Sakura said, her voice cold and determined. She turned toward Kaito, who had remained frozen, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. “You’re coming with us.”

Kaito, realizing his fate, looked between the bodies of his fallen comrades and the two Konoha shinobi standing before him. His hand trembled as he slowly raised it in surrender. “You...you won’t get anything from me,” he muttered, but the fear in his eyes betrayed his words.

Sasuke sheathed his katana, his eyes hard and unreadable. "You’ll talk."

Kaito’s chest heaved with fear, his body tense as he realized the weight of his situation. Sakura stepped forward, her Byakugō Seal flaring with power. "You’ll come to Konoha with us. You’ll tell us everything about the operation. Everything you’ve been hiding."

"We’re done here," Sasuke said, his voice cold. He glanced down at the bodies of Kenjiro, Takahiro, and Hiroshi, their blood staining the floor.

With a swift motion, Sasuke grabbed Kaito by the arm and yanked him to his feet. The man flinched, but there was nothing he could do.

Sakura, standing beside him, gave one last glance at the bodies. It wasn’t even a battle, it was annihilation. Like a blade cutting through the air without resistance.

Their reign over the city's shadow operations wiped out in mere moments

Now, there was one thing left to do: Kaito.

Sasuke had been the one to neutralize him, disarming Kaito with his usual precision before binding his hands. Kaito’s defiance had crumbled quickly when he realized there was nowhere to run. Sasuke and Sakura didn’t need to say much. The job was done.

Now, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows over the abandoned warehouse, Kaito was tied to a chair, his expression twisted in frustration.

Sasuke stood silently behind Sakura, his eyes fixed on Kaito with quiet intensity.

Sakura turned to Sasuke and gave him a brief look. "I’m going back to my apartment to grab my things. I won’t be long."

Sasuke met her gaze, his expression unreadable, but there was understanding in his eyes. "I’ll wait.”

Sakura nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, though it was distant.

Sakura’s footsteps echoed down the empty streets as she made her way back to the apartment. The weight of the mission still hung in the air, but it was lighter now. The funders had been taken care of, Kaito was bound and would be brought back to Konoha, and her time in this city had come to an end.

The apartment, once a place of disguise and deception, now felt foreign, as though it had never truly belonged to her. She had played the role of Tsuyu for so long, but it was all a facade, and now it was over.

She entered the apartment, the door creaking as she stepped inside. The quiet of the space hit her instantly.

Sakura moved quickly, packing the few clothes she had left, a couple of personal items, and her weaponry. She didn’t waste time. There was no need for nostalgia or second thoughts. She wasn’t the same person who had walked in here months ago. Tsuyu was gone.

As she zipped up the small bag, her eyes lingered on the bare walls for just a moment. The past was behind her now. There was nothing left to keep.

With one last look around the room, she grabbed the bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

Sakura moved toward the door, pausing for just a second to take a deep breath. It was over. She had no more ties to this city. The thought of home lingered.

Chapter Text

“Ready to go?” he asked, his voice low but direct, cutting through the silence between them.

Sakura nodded, her eyes meeting his.

Without another word, Sasuke’s expression shifted slightly. His eyes glowed as he activated his Rinnegan. The space around them seemed to ripple, the air growing thick with a pulse of chakra. In the blink of an eye, the landscape around them blurred and distorted, the familiar streets of the city vanishing.

Sakura felt the sensation of space bending around her as the Rinnegan’s power enveloped them. Kaito, still bound and unconscious, was suspended in the air beside them, his fate now sealed.

Sasuke’s Rinnegan pulsed again, and in an instant, the world snapped back into focus. The once familiar city streets were replaced by the towering gates of Konoha. They had arrived.

Sasuke glanced at Sakura briefly, confirming she was fine, before turning his attention to Kaito. The man was still bound tightly, his face pale from the trip.

Sakura remained calm, her eyes sharp as she focused on the task ahead. The air in Konoha felt strangely different after two months away. The village, with its familiar sights and sounds, seemed both comforting and distant. Sakura had barely returned to the village, and she knew that, just like before, her time here would be short.

After dropping off Kaito with Ibiki for interrogation, Sasuke and Sakura made their way through Konoha’s streets, heading toward the Hokage Tower. The funders were gone, Kaito was in custody, and now it was time to report to Kakashi.

The Hokage Tower loomed ahead, its presence steady and familiar. As they entered the building, they walked in silence, the weight of the mission hanging between them, but there was no need for words. Sasuke’s eyes never strayed from Sakura, his mind quietly assessing her.

They reached Kakashi’s office without much delay, and Sasuke knocked once before entering, his expression neutral as ever. Sakura followed, her posture professional but distant, her mind already on the next thing. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Kakashi looked up from the paperwork on his desk, his visible eye widening in surprise as he saw Sakura standing there.

"Sasuke. Sakura-chan?" Kakashi said, his tone full of surprise. "I didn’t expect you back so soon."

Sasuke stepped forward first, his usual calm and unreadable demeanor in place. "The shipment was destroyed," he reported flatly. "All the weapons, the forbidden scrolls, they’re gone.

Kakashi’s eyes flicked from Sasuke to Sakura, then back to Sasuke. "Destroyed? You didn’t leave anything behind?"

Sasuke nodded. "Nothing that matters. We made sure the funders didn’t escape, either."

Sakura, standing beside Sasuke, spoke next. "Kenjiro, Takahiro, and Hiroshi are dead. Kaito was the only one left alive, and we handed him over to Ibiki for questioning." Her voice was steady, as she recounted the events. "The operation is finished. They won’t be a problem anymore."

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, his one visible eye narrowing as he processed their report. "I see," he said, his voice surprisingly neutral. "You two really didn’t waste any time.”

Sasuke didn’t acknowledge the praise; it wasn’t necessary.

Kakashi looked at Sakura, his gaze softening slightly. "It’s good to have you back, Sakura. I wasn’t expecting you so soon."

Sakura met his gaze briefly before looking away, "I didn’t plan on staying long, Kaka-sensei." she said, her voice betraying no emotion.

Kakashi noticed the detachment in her words, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he gave a small nod, accepting her response without pushing her to elaborate.

Sasuke noticed how Kakashi looked at her, the hint of something unspoken in his expression. But he kept his thoughts to himself, his focus solely on Sakura as she replied.

Sakura met Kakashi’s gaze briefly, but there was something distant in her eyes, as though she was already planning her departure. 

Kakashi leaned forward in his chair. "Alright, I’ll get something ready for you. But you know, Sakura-chan, you don’t always have to be out there. We need you here, too. Take some time to rest."

Sakura didn’t respond, but Sasuke noticed how she glanced at him. There was no real change in her demeanor.

"I’ll be ready after Ino’s baby shower. I don’t plan on missing that.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow at the mention of Ino’s baby shower, but his voice softened. "Of course. You can’t miss that.”

Sasuke felt a brief flicker of something, a quiet tension. Sakura just nodded, watching her head for the door without hesitation.

It wasn’t just the mission. It was the way she couldn’t settle, always looking ahead, always moving forward.

Kakashi let out a quiet sigh and leaned back in his chair, watching Sakura leave with a knowing look in his eyes. Sasuke turned to leave as well, but before he could step out the door, Kakashi spoke.

"You should talk." Kakashi said quietly, almost as if to himself.

Sasuke paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he absorbed Kakashi’s words. "I know," he said quietly, his tone steady but heavy with meaning.

Kakashi studied Sasuke for a moment, his expression thoughtful. " I wonder what it is she’s running from."

Chapter Text

As Sasuke made his way out of the Hokage Tower, his mind still heavy. Not noticing his steps instinctively carried him toward Sakura’s apartment. The day was beginning to fade, the sun sinking lower into the sky, casting a warm amber glow over the village. The air was cool, vendors closing up shop, children laughing in the streets.

Sasuke barely noticed any of it. His thoughts were consumed with what had transpired over the past days, the mission, and more than anything, the unresolved tension between him and Sakura. It had been there, brewing for months, for years. Things neither of them had ever fully confronted.

When he reached her door, something stopped him. He wasn’t sure whether it was fear, hesitation, or something else entirely. He stood there for a moment, his hand hovering over the door, thoughts racing. This wasn’t just another mission. He wasn’t just another shinobi showing up at her door. This was different. He didn’t know what to expect, what he was hoping for, but he couldn’t turn back now.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet evening air.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing her.

Sakura stood in the doorway, her hair loosely tied back, a few stray strands falling to frame her face. The soft morning light filtered in behind her, casting a delicate glow that only made the distance between them more apparent. That hadn’t changed. But the eyes that had once been filled with determination and warmth now seemed distant. Empty, almost. He hadn’t realized how much she had changed until this very moment.

Her gaze shifted over him, searching for something in his face, something that might explain why he was here.

“Sasuke,” she said, her voice low and soft, but it didn’t carry the same warmth it once had. It felt like she was standing there, waiting, but not welcoming. Not anymore.

Sasuke stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to say, how to begin. Every word seemed too small, every action too insignificant. But he couldn’t walk away. Not again. Not without trying.

“I needed to see you,” he said, the words coming out rough, but honest. It felt like a simple answer, but the weight of it lingered in the air.

Sakura didn’t step aside immediately. She didn’t invite him in, but she didn’t shut the door in his face either. Instead, she watched him for a moment, her gaze unreadable. Then, without a word, she moved aside, just enough for him to step inside.

There was nothing warm about the gesture, nothing that spoke of reconciliation. It was neutral, like the space between them had already been decided. She wasn’t sure if she should let him in, but she wasn’t sure how to close him out either.

Sasuke entered the apartment. The familiar surroundings seemed almost foreign now. The same walls, the same furniture, but everything felt different. The air was thick with the silence between them, the words unsaid, the years of growing apart. It was suffocating. He could feel it in every corner of the room.

Sakura stood by the window, her back to him, her fingers resting lightly on the sill. She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking out at the village, but the way her shoulders were stiff, the way she held herself, told him everything he needed to know. There was a barrier between them. Not one made of stone, a wall she had built to protect herself.

“Sasuke,” she whispered, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her, “Are you staying long?”

The words struck him harder than he expected. They weren’t just a question. They were a plea. A quiet invitation to prove that he wasn’t just a fleeting ghost in her life, someone who came and went when it suited him. And for a moment, Sasuke was unsure how to respond.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come out as he had imagined. They felt small, inadequate in the face of everything that had happened between them. The space between them felt heavier now, as though the years of silence had carved out something vast and empty.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to say, his voice raw, thick with everything he had left unsaid, “Not long.”

It wasn’t the answer he had wanted to give. It wasn’t a promise. It was the truth. For now, it was all he had.

“I knew it,” she whispered under her breath, her voice almost lost in the stillness of the room. It wasn’t directed at him, but he heard it anyway. The quiet, painful truth of it made his chest tighten. She had expected this. She had known he would come to her like this, but it didn’t make it any easier.

The silence lingered, suffocating. Then Sakura spoke again, her voice soft, almost detached.

“Thank you,” she said. “For helping with the mission.”

Her gratitude was casual, like she was thanking a stranger for a favor. It stung, but Sasuke didn’t show it. He didn’t need to. He wasn’t here to seek anything from her. He was just here, standing in front of her, trying to hold on to the connection they had once shared.

“It was part of the mission,” he replied quietly, his voice flat. The words felt empty between them, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Sakura didn’t respond. She simply nodded slightly and turned her attention back to the village below. Sasuke’s gaze flickered over her face, trying to read her, but it was no use. Her expression was unreadable. She was too far away.

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding. Seeing her so distant, so closed off, it broke something inside him. He didn’t want her to slip away, not like this.

“Sakura,” he called out, his voice carrying just enough weight to pull her attention.

“I regret not responding,” Sasuke continued, his gaze drifting toward the setting sun, as if the horizon could offer him the courage to keep going. “I was wrong.”

The words lingered between them, heavy and unresolved. Sasuke couldn’t bring himself to look at her. The silence felt too thick. He wasn’t sure what he would see when he looked at her, too much had been left unsaid. It wasn’t just the years of distance between them; it was the hurt, the unresolved fears, the things they hadn’t been able to say to each other.

“I couldn’t stand it,” he admitted, his voice now a little harsher, the weight of his confession pressing down on him. “Seeing you with someone else.”

Sasuke shifted his gaze from the horizon, finally meeting her eyes. He searched her face desperately, hoping to understand what she was feeling. What was she thinking? But there was a distance in her eyes, the same distance that had been there for so long, and it made him feel like a stranger.

Sakura didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t move. But Sasuke saw it, the flicker of something in her eyes, the briefest hesitation, the catch in her breath. It was as though she was still trying to process everything, trying to understand the man standing before her, the man she had once known.

Her fingers tightened around the railing behind her, her knuckles white against the metal. The weight of her silence was suffocating to him, but he knew she needed time. Time to hear him out, time to process the mess they had become.

“Sasuke,” she said softly, her voice almost breaking. “What do you want from me?”

The question pierced through him, and for the first time in years, Sasuke found himself speechless. He hadn’t thought about it like that. What did he truly want? What was he asking of her? He hadn’t considered how much he needed to do, to say, to make it right.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice raw, thick with everything unsaid. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

Sakura’s eyes softened for a brief moment, her gaze flickering between him and the vast emptiness beyond them. She seemed torn. Caught between the past and the present, between the man she had loved and the stranger who stood before her now.

Her breath hitched slightly as she turned her eyes away, looking past him, as though searching for something far off in the distance. Something that might make sense of all this.

“I still love you, Sasuke,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, carried away by the evening wind. “But I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to react anymore.”

He had always known it. But hearing her say it out loud, with such quiet uncertainty, made everything feel more real than he could have ever imagined. It felt as though the earth had shifted beneath his feet, and he was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for her to decide whether or not she would take his hand.

“I—” Sasuke began, but his throat tightened. What could he say? What words were left after everything? After years of silence, broken promises, and distance?

He stepped closer to her, closer than he had allowed himself to before. His heart hammered in his chest as he reached out, unsure if she would pull away, but needing to try. She didn’t. Her eyes remained fixed ahead, but her body stayed still, allowing him this moment.

“I want to be the man you deserve,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly as the weight of it all settled in. “I want to do it for you. For us.”

Sakura’s eyes closed for a moment, gathering herself before slowly turning to face him. Her expression was soft, but that guarded look remained, the same one that had kept him at a distance for so long, one he never realized was there, until it was too late.

He held his ground, his eyes never leaving hers.

Sakura’s lips trembled slightly as she looked at him, and for a moment, Sasuke thought she might say something, something that would change everything between them.

But instead, she stepped back, breaking her gaze from his. She turned her head toward the horizon once more, as though searching for something beyond him. An answer, perhaps, or a way to reconcile everything that had happened between them.

“I don’t know if I can trust you with that, Sasuke,” she said quietly, the words floating between them like a fragile bridge. “Not after everything.”

His heart stuttered, and for a moment, the world felt like it was closing in. But then, he saw it in her eyes. There was still something there. She wasn’t pushing him away. She was still holding on to something, a small hope, a flicker of what they could still be.

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” he said, his voice steady but raw with the weight of everything unsaid.

Sasuke’s hand clenched at his sides, his nails digging into the fabric of his palm. He had given her every reason to walk away, to give up on him. He hadn’t understood it before, didn’t know what it meant to love someone, to let someone in.

Now, he understood. The truth hit him with sharp clarity. He could feel it deep in his bones, how much he needed her, how much he had let his pride keep him from realizing just how wrong he had been.

Sakura shifted slightly, and Sasuke’s attention snapped back to her. She was chewing her lower lip absentmindedly, her brow furrowed just enough to show the confusion in her thoughts.

She turned to face him, and though she wasn’t ready to dive into anything, the walls between them were beginning to crack.

“Do you even know what you’re asking me, Sasuke?” Her voice wasn’t accusing, just uncertain. “Do you know what it would mean? What it would cost?”

She wasn’t dismissing him outright. She wasn’t shutting him down. She was trying to understand whether this was real, or just another one of his fleeting impulses.

“I know,” he said, his voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling inside him. “But I can’t stand the thought of you walking away without me trying.”

Sasuke noticed the small way she was playing with the strand of her hair, almost nervously. It was a subtle action, but it spoke to the vulnerability she was trying to hide. She was thinking, feeling, but not yet ready to give herself away.

She seemed to be fighting with herself, struggling to hold on to the parts of her that had been hurt, the parts that didn’t want to believe him.

“Why now, Sasuke?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why now, when I’m already moving on from everything?”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. How could he? How could he respond to that, when what she said was true? She was moving on. He had been the one to pull away, to push her aside without ever truly seeing her. And now, when she was finally starting to break free, he was standing here, asking for something he had no right to ask for.

Why now? How could he explain something he didn’t even understand himself? He had spent so long running from his feelings, from the weight of what he felt for her, that now, standing here, it was almost impossible to say the words.

“I don’t know…” he muttered, his voice low and thick with the rawness of emotion he had buried for so long. “I couldn’t let you go.”

He was trying to make sense of his own thoughts, trying to organize the words that felt so foreign on his tongue. I couldn’t let you go, he repeated in his mind, as if the words themselves might offer some kind of explanation. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that wasn’t the answer.

"I don't know what you expect me to say," she replied, her voice distant, caught somewhere between resolve and uncertainty. Her eyes were no longer on him; instead, they gazed over the village below. “But I need time. I need to figure out what this... what we are now.”

Sasuke nodded, accepting her words without protest. He hadn’t expected her to forgive him immediately, nor did he expect things to be perfect. He had broken her trust, and rebuilding that wasn’t something he could rush. But she hadn’t turned him away completely.

Sakura swallowed, looking down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I’ll try, Sasuke. But I’m not promising anything. Not yet.”

“Come with me, Sakura.”

The words slipped out before Sasuke could stop them. He hadn’t planned on saying them, but as soon as they left his lips, it felt like the right thing to do.

Sakura stood still for a moment, her eyes searching his, and Sasuke couldn’t help but wonder what she saw in him now. Was it the same person she had once known? Or had the years changed him too much for her to recognize?

She took a deep breath, her gaze flickering between his eyes and the ground, her mind working through the weight of his request. For a moment, the silence was deafening.

“I don’t know if I can just pick up and go with you, Sasuke,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with hesitation but not dismissal. “But I can’t stay here either. Not like this.”

He reached for her then, his hand finding hers, warm and steady in his grip. She didn’t pull away, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he could breathe again.

“I’m not asking for everything,” he said as he reached out to her hands, his voice steady but vulnerable.

Sakura hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing his but not fully taking hold. She looked at him as if weighing the weight of his words against the reality of everything they’d been through.

“I can’t promise something will change, Sasuke,” she said quietly, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. 

He understood. It wasn’t a promise of perfection or immediate answers. It was an understanding that they were both broken in their own ways, and maybe, just maybe, they could try.

He nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Sasuke wasn’t asking for everything, but this small step forward felt like more than he had ever hoped for. And with that, they both knew it was the beginning of something new.

“Thank you, Sakura.” Sasuke murmured, his voice low. With a deep breath, he leaned forward, his forehead brushing against hers for a brief moment before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, just above her Byakugō seal.

It was a simple gesture. Brief, tender, and filled with quiet strength, the kiss spoke of a willingness to face the uncertain road ahead, despite not knowing where it would lead.

As he pulled back slightly, his hand lingering on her cheek, Sakura looked up at him. Her eyes, once distant and guarded, softened as she met his gaze. There was no hesitation this time, no walls between them. She leaned in, her breath warm against his skin, and before he could fully pull away, her lips gently met his.

It was slow at first, a careful exploration of what had been lost, what had been held back for so long. But as the kiss deepened, it became more certain, more real.

The weight of everything they had been through, the pain, the distance and the regrets were melted away in that simple, shared moment.

The world outside seemed to fade as they kissed, as if time had slowed just for them, allowing them to reconnect in a way they hadn’t in years.