Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Naruto wearily watched the sun breaking through the horizon as she shivered on the porch steps.

She had let Tama and Taro out early, trying to spot her cats hiding in the early morning grey shadows cast between the greening azalea bushes and dead grass, still recovering from winter, as she moodily sipped her second cup of coffee. She doesn’t remember the last time she had slept so poorly.

She’d gone to bed early around 10:00 pm, unusually exhausted, only to wake up just before midnight, fully awake. It had been impossible to fall asleep again. Her mind raced with a bizarre cocktail of frantic anxiety and nervous energy, despite nothing out of the ordinary having happened. She hadn’t stumbled upon any upsetting documents, had wrapped up her boring mission report from last week quickly, and had organized another stack of boring policy for review.

“Well, you look like shit.”

She blearily turns to look at Sasuke, sliding through the shoji door looking shockingly refreshed in his loosely tied house haori, holding what was undoubtedly a warm cup of matcha.

“Thanks man,” she comments dryly, taking a noisy slurp of her coffee. “I feel like shit.”

“You didn’t get anymore sleep?”

He’d kicked her out at around 2:00 am when he’d finally had enough of her tossing and turning. She couldn’t blame him. She’d thrown off the covers multiple times to stagger into the bathroom, fiddled with the sheets, the duvet, and had gotten tangled in them multiple times; ran downstairs to the thermostat to adjust the temperature before jogging back up the steps; and even pushing Sasuke off when it was too warm only to drag him back into her arms when she felt cold again. After that, she’d watched some TV on the couch, hoping to fall asleep in front of the screen, only to give up at 4:00 am.

“No. And I have to go to the Tower in a few hours.”

A low, thoughtful hum escaped his lips as he sat beside her, his hand resting on her cold thigh.

“Usuratonkatchi,” he chastised with a hiss, rubbing his hand into her chilled skin. “You’re freezing.”

“Don’t really feel it,” she lied, Sasuke throwing an arm around her to drag her into his warm body.

The cold was a welcome distraction from the waves of nausea brought on from her exhaustion.  
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Naruto doesn’t know why she’s like this.

In fact, the last time she’d felt like this was when Tsunade had clinically told her Jiraiya was dead.

She can’t even place if it’s something that’s been happening for a while, nor could she tell you when exactly this started. All she knew was that it was hard to get out of bed this morning, after another restless night. That she wasn’t in the mood to listen to Shikamaru and Kakashi-sensei debate about the specifics of policy. She couldn't empathize with the latest batch of apprentices Sakura was dealing with or listen to Ino talk about her training with Ibiki.

It was hard to focus. More so than usual, and then in the late afternoon, this terrible sadness had welted itself deep against her chest. She’d apologized to both Shikamaru and Kakashi, blaming it on the konbini curry they’d gotten for lunch, and made her way out of the Hokage Tower. She'd wandered aimlessly around Konoha before finally coming home when the chatter and cordial helloes became overwhelming. Even the spot on her father’s head felt over exposed.

Tama and Taro had meowed at her concernedly, Tama hurtling after her when she’d wordlessly walked past them, shoving the shoji door open, and stumbling down the wooden steps into the garden. She hurriedly made her way to the back corner, sitting underneath the infant kikuzakura tree they’d planted last year—stubbornly holding on to the last of its blushing petals despite the rumblings of May rain. Maybe it was gogatsubyo hitting her earlier than usual.

She hadn’t even felt Sasuke’s presence until he storms through the back garden gate an hour later, all proud and aloof until his sharp eyes finally find her.

His face cracked—concern drawing his brows together.

“What happened?” he asks, voice hard.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at her strangely, licking his lips like he was about to say something, only to press them tightly together in a thin, drawn line. Sasuke walked over to her slowly, looking like a dark omen in his black, zipped up t-shirt and loose shinobi pants amongst the greening grass and blooming garden. He didn’t spit an insult or loom over her. Instead, he surprised her by crouching—a pale hand raising to touch her cheek, his calloused thumb swiping away the wetness.

“O-oh,” she responds, startled.

She hadn’t…she hadn’t noticed how wet and sticky her face was.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

“—Hey, shh. It’s okay.”

His voice is disturbingly soft, coming out as a full rumble, like he was wary of scaring her off.

Sasuke never spoke to her like that. Something was wrong, and she wanted to hide her face and bury her growing shame, but suddenly the raven was in her space, kneeling, before a warm hand cradling the back of her head, pulling her into his shoulder, and enveloping her tightly. She inhales his familiar smoky scent of burnt cedar and yuzu from the incense he was always burning. It makes her feel safe, and the realization has her shoulders drop and they start shaking. She doesn’t know why it was in his presence, that her body finally folds, heavy head falling into the crook of his neck as sobs start spilling out, arms weakly falling to her sides, fingers clenching into the soft moss beneath her.

Despite his nimble fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns into her hair, Sasuke's hold never wavers. He doesn't even comment, or tease, or question further. Instead, silently listening to her melancholy.
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She’s running.

As fast as she can, down winding hallways and rotting doors in a house she doesn’t recognize. Every time she thought she was safe behind a thick door, the yokai would find her—screeching in her face with shredded skin and kunai wounds. When she finally finds the front door, she bursts through it, suddenly running through the battlefield, the hundreds of dead beneath her feet from those she couldn’t save wailing in pain. Their broken and mangled hands kept reach for her, grabbing onto her skin and forcing her into the ground, where she would die. Just like she always should have and—

—Naruto woke up with a startled wheeze, breathing heavily as she threw an arm over her forehead.

It was just a dream. Just a stupid fucking dream.

In a blind panic she reaches over for Sasuke, desperately patting the side of the bed to feel him only for her blood to run cold when her fingers met a wet, sticky warmth. She hurriedly looked over, eyes widening with tears at the gruesome sight. Sasuke’s arm was missing, the end mangled with his torn muscles and protruding bones, blood seeping into their dark blue sheets. His eyes, a dull grey, stared at her unmoving. Blood crusted on his cracked lips.
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Naruto wakes up with a gasp, fingers digging into her chest and heaving as the violent nightmare washes away into reality.

This was the fifth night in a row that they had disturbingly woken her up.

She blinks, exhaling shakily as her surrounding finally started to feel familiar. The red glow from the digital clock on her nightstand, the ceiling fan above moving in slow, lazy circles. The quiet room held only the soft, rumbling snores of Tama in the corner cat bed, and the palpable weight of Sasuke's presence next to her.

She turns quickly, eyes falling upon Sasuke's bare, muscular back; his real arm tucked beneath the pillow while the other curled around his abdomen and feels an instant wave of relief. The raven only ever slept on his side when he was genuinely asleep. She reaches out with shaking fingers to touch the smooth skin around his elbow, stroking the seam of his prosthetic. Sasuke's so pale that the offending limb blends in flawlessly and wasn't immediately obvious, unlike hers. She gently traces the chakra seals at the connective points, guilt curdling in her gut that she's damaged him so viciously. If only she hadn't been so stubborn, maybe she could have figured out another way to reason with him.

A small, barely audible, groan of discomfort escapes Sasuke's lips, causing her worry; she thinks she might have woken him up, but his eyes remain closed, a slight parting of his lips, and a peaceful look on his face as he rolled over toward her. He throws his real arm over her ribs, pulling her in close with a sleepy mumble, until his nose nudged her cheek with his warm forehead pressed against her temple. She didn't dare move as he sleepily re-arranged himself, eventually throwing one of his heavy legs over her thighs.

A strange comfort washes over her, as it always did when Sasuke—who was dangerous, unbending, and detached with sharp eyes and biting words—unconsciously sought her out while sleeping.

She rests her fingers against his forearm, thumb pressed on the tender inner skin to feel his vein. Even with the rhythmic pulse of his blood comforting her, she knew sleep wouldn’t find her.
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The feeling doesn’t fade.

Two weeks later and Naruto is grateful that it’s Saturday, as it was getting increasingly hard to force herself out of bed. She had stubbornly rooted herself underneath the covers, long limbs sprawled out as Sasuke had been long gone—she hadn’t even noticed him getting out of bed in the morning. It’s only when Taro starts meowing at her that she peeks out to blearily look at the time.

The glowing red numbers on the clock said it was fifteen past noon. Next to her, Taro had his little paws propped onto their bed, peering at her cautiously. Kami, even the cat knew something was wrong. Reaching out hesitantly, her fingers brushed against his soft, white fur, eliciting a rumbling purr that vibrated through her hand, almost like a sign of relief.

Only the insistent gnawing in her belly, a deep, insistent growl, could force her from the cocoon of safety. She sluggishly drags herself to a sitting position, blinking a few times as she regained her balance, and pushed herself out of their plush bed. She kicks into her slippers, pushing her messy hair out of her face as she finally leaves their room. Unlike their dark bedroom where the blinds were drawn firmly shut, the hallway was almost too bright, with beaming light blinding her as it flashed off the picture frames adorning the wall.

There was a collection of them hanging over the thin linen cabinet, decorated simply with Sasuke’s favourite incense holder with some cold ashes from his last burn. It included the last family photo he ever took, a picture of her own parents as well as a photo with Jiraya-sensei. Their original Team 7 photo, showcasing their young, frustrated faces and her shaved boyish hair, hung shyly beside the recreated version they made years later; both of them still missing their arms, with Sai and Yamato-sensei included. A few snap shots of friends and Rookie 12 in completion, along with a large, framed photo from their wedding hung in the middle.

The photo, taken long after midnight, lacked the stiffness of the other pictures from that night; it felt more relaxed and spontaneous. It had been a typical photo for her—playfully sticking her tongue out with her middle finger pointed at the camera, her new ring shyly glittering next to it. What had made her choose it, was how Sasuke looked. His arm had been casually thrown around her neck, flashing his matching gold ring, while his face was adorned with a rare, wicked smile. She remembered proudly showing Sakura her carefully arranged photo display, the pink-haired girl tilting her head and asking why she'd chosen that one, while excluding the dozens of other formal wedding photos. At the time she'd laughed saying those photos made her feel claustrophobic. But really, she'd chosen this particular one because of how smug Sasuke looked. Like he was proud that she was his in every way that mattered. She wanted to remember that expression and cherish it like a pearl inside her bloody hands.

Sometimes, she doesn’t believe Sasuke loves her.

Naruto made her way down the stairs slowly, peering into the kitchen and sighed in relief when it was empty. For a second, she hoped that Sasuke wasn’t home, a strange tinge of guilt at her behaviour making her feel uncharacteristically shy around him. However, at the hiss of the garden hose being turned on she knew immediately that he was outside—probably vigilant of whatever her mood would bring today. She inhaled deeply, trying to muster up the courage to face him, eventually sliding the shoji door open, peering in their yard.

Sasuke was in a cropped t-shirt, showing off his toned midriff, with jogger pants hugging his thick thighs as he watered the numerous, infant tomato plants she’d carefully nurtured indoors all winter. She leaned against the frame self-consciously. She’s always been aware that Sasuke was—and is—devastatingly beautiful. His silken, jet-black hair almost looked blue when the sunlight hit it right, like the darkest part of the night sky sweeping in front of his intense, cat-like eyes, long lashes, and framed his sharp cheekbones. He’s grown out his bangs in the past few years, leaving it short and wild in the back while the longer strands hid his Rinnegan. His gentle pink lips were perfectly symmetrical to his face, the outer line of his angular upper lip so distinct it almost looked like it was painted on. His dark, beautiful eyes had always been described as a soulless black, but she knew that when you could get close enough, they were a dark chocolate brown.

Meanwhile, she's always been mocked for her unconventional features—her muscular build, towering height, and unfeminine bulkiness. Those were just external. Internal, demonic, characteristics had always sucker-punched her more than she cared to admit.

She knows that Sasuke is well-aware that she’s been staring at him. He’s been patient enough to not say anything, even though she knows he hates when anyone—including her—did that.

“They’re under-watered,” she finally comments.

Sasuke's eyes roll toward her, no real emotion on his face and it makes her squirm.

“They’re under-watered,” she repeats, fingers curling tighter around the door frame. “Tomatoes drink a lot. They can get blossom-end rot if they’re too dry. The ground should be soaking, not damp.”

He stares unflinchingly for a moment before nodding obediently, returning to the task at hand. Tama scurries up to him from the bush he was hiding in, rubbing against his leg.

She continues to stare for another moment, thinking of how effortlessly their cats loved Sasuke, like everyone else. Even with the initial combativeness upon his return to Konoha, it had been far easier for him to integrate then she thought, to a point where he openly had admirers again. When her stomach growled, she figured it was about time she forced herself to eat.

“I made some miso soup this morning,” Sasuke finally says, breaking the silence, as if reading her mind. “There’s grilled mackerel for you, and some leftover spinach salad from yesterday.”

That’s right. She hadn’t even eaten dinner yesterday.

“Alright,” she responds dimly, closing the door gently and moving like a ghost through their kitchen. She chugs some water, by force really, considering if she wanted coffee but decided it was too much effort to bother. She grabbed an elastic band and forced her hair up into a bun and out of her face, reheating the leftovers in the microwave.

She’s eating slowly when he finally comes in. She can hear him sliding out of his sandals, and she expects him to go grab a book or something. Instead, she almost jerks in surprise when his strong arms wrap around her neck, hugging her tightly against his abdomen. She doesn’t know what it is about his hold, but she sags against his arms, swallowing hard.

She doesn’t know why she’s been feeling this way. There’s no reason to be sad. Everything in her life is better than she could have imagined. When she was seventeen, she was fully prepared to die. Now she’s in her early twenties, married to the only person she's ever loved, living in a home she could have only prayed and dreamed of as a child. Sometimes, it doesn’t feel real. Almost like she’s living a life that isn’t hers.

She used to think she wouldn't live past eighteen.

She doesn't know how long Sasuke hugs her—it feels like hours—until he pulls away, warm hands sliding to rest on her shoulders and lips pressing a kiss into the crown of her head.

"We're going grocery shopping in an hour," he murmurs into her hair. "Go take a shower, okay?"

He doesn't give her the opportunity to protest, leaning away and walking toward their laundry room.

She sighs, having a strange feeling that Sasuke was going to strong arm her into leaving the house—with force if necessary—and hauls herself away from the table.

She showers longer than usual, the warm thrum of water a hypnotic white noise that drowned her moaning and invasive thoughts out. Considering her yokai-like appearance with wet, limp hair plastered to her face, she thought about asking Sasuke to braid it, but decided against it to avoid irritating him. When she finally makes a clone to help braid her hair, it looked just as exhausted as she felt. She pulls out a pair of black leggings, and the largest graphic, orange t-shirt that she owns, that hangs mid-thigh and hides her just enough to make her feel safe.

She finds Sasuke waiting for her expectantly in the genkan, shoes already on, and hands stuffed into his pockets. His inquisitive eyes were staring at the few photos hung on the wall, different from the intimate photos in their hallway. Nothing from their wedding, that felt too private to post, but rather some snapshots with friends. There was one photo, hidden in the middle, of them at the annual Kannamesai festival two years ago.

Sasuke had been a bit drunk, his sharp cheeks dusted rouge, mismatched ebony and lavender eyes glassy and glazed. His usually stoic and reserved gestures were far more expressive then usual. He'd been slowly getting annoyed with how long she was taking to order food. It resulted in a tight hold around her neck, whispering scorching threats in her ear. She hadn’t even noticed Ino taking the photo, both hands holding onto his arm and far more interested in deciding which food stalls to go to in which order—quickly given his growing ire—but Sasuke had. He'd stared directly into the camera, in his stunning ruby kimono, capturing a dangerous, desirous, grin.

When she'd hung it up the first time, he'd frowned, turning away with his nose upturned in displeasure.

She wondered if he was looking at that photo, or of another one.

When she finally reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned to look at her, face remaining neutral. He pulled his hand out slowly, palm facing upright to reveal the black crescent moon etched into his skin as he reached out for her.

She didn’t hesitate before grabbing it.

Chapter Text

“I'll be honest Naruto-chan, based on this initial assessment, I think you'll need to be assigned to Suzume-san. I'm not sure why Tsunade-sama didn't suggest that earlier, considering the things she's noted in your file at twelve, sixteen, and eighteen.”

Naruto squirmed in her seat, wringing her clammy hands together.

She didn't really know what to expect when she asked Shizune for an appointment to get a sleeping aid that would actually work on someone like her. It had seemed perfect. Sakura was busy training a new batch of graduates and Sasuke was on a two-day mission at the border to gather intel on a concerning group of rogue Kiri shinobi.

Shizune, she trusted, was professional enough to keep her mouth shut. Naruto had become increasingly uncomfortable with Sakura having intimate knowledge of her medical situations and then spilling everything to Sasuke the moment he'd corner her and bat his eyelashes, unzip his shirt, frown, or whatever the fuck he did to make Sakura melt. Not that it took much.

The first few rounds of questions during the appointment made sense, like, are you feeling fatigued all the time? Do you have trouble concentrating? Do you have a poor appetite or are overeating recently? How long is it taking for you to fall asleep? But then Shizune had moved toward the more hard-hitting ones. Do you experience disturbing dreams? Do you feel hyperalert, as if you're on guard all the time? Do you think you'd be better off dead? She had wanted to laugh it off, respond like her normal boisterous self, but she knew that wouldn't be helpful.

Shizune's cold, professional tone was paired with the furious scratch of her pen and an increasingly furrowed brow. And then the mention of Suzume…

Suzume was a member of Ibiki's core squad at Konoha's Intelligence Division and was one of his most trusted kunoichi. She also headed Konoha General Hospital's Psychiatric Unit, reporting directly to Tsunade baa-chan. Naruto was never comfortable with her involvement in both divisions, especially after her direct assignment to Sasuke during his imprisonment. Not that she knew any detail of what sessions between the two looked like. Sasuke rarely talked about that time in his life, and even after all these years, it still seemed to be a sore spot. He had enough of those, and she’d never been keen to pick at his scars.

Naruto didn't understand why she, of all people, was being assigned to Suzume when all she needed was a jinchuuriki-proof prescription for sleep. Normies could just buy one over the counter at any pharmacy, and yet here she was, being interrogated.

“Um, what does Suzume-san or Tsunade baa-chan's notes have to do with getting me a sleep drought?”

Shizune looked up from her clipboard sharply, staring at her strangely before her eyes returned to her notes.

“Sleep troubles usually stem from habits that disturb circadian rhythm, various life events, or stress. I went through your file before the appointment to review the medical history I'm most familiar with. Tsunade noted anxious and ambivalent attachment, a bizarre lack of physical evidence for maltreatment despite overwhelming mental symptoms of childhood neglect, attributed to your enormous chakra levels and additional boost from the Nine-Tails. She also made a note about dyslexia. However, she seemed to think you had a good grasp on stress management and left it there. Did she ever speak to you about any of this?”

“No,” she sneers firmly, despite squirming in her seat. “She's never mentioned any of this to me. I don't even know what d-dysleptic, dyslextic—”

“—Dyslexia.”

“Yeah. That. I don't know what that is.”

“It's a learning disorder. The most commons symptoms are difficulty with spelling and reading.”

“Shizune. I know everyone jokes that I'm dumb, but I can fucking read.”

“It's not—I'm not trying to insult you, Naruto. And really, it's a lot more common than people think. It means that maybe you write kana backwards, or kanji is a little more difficult to grasp. It could also mean it may take you a few times to read something over before retaining it.”

She looked down at her hands, frowning. Is that why everyone said her writing was shit?

“Tsunade-sama is a brilliant medic-nin. But she can be callous when it comes to psychiatry and mental stressors. Shinobi culture is also fairly geriatric when it comes to prioritizing proper mental well-being.”

“Are you saying I'm mentally unwell?”

Shizune put down her clipboard, watching her with soft, coffee eyes. The sudden shift in her demeanour wasn’t lost upon Naruto.

“I believe you've repressed severe symptoms of anxiety and are having a depressive episode. Some of it probably related to your traumatic childhood, others related to surviving a war—a war where you were clinically dead before miraculously coming back to life. Many shinobi are experiencing battle exhaustion right now. Some of this is most likely even burn out. However, Suzume-san can make a more concrete diagnosis and help with the next steps.”  

She clenched her fist tightly, bitterness swelling in her throat as she thought of every single way she could deny it. That she didn’t like people prying into her personal life and talking about her childhood as if anyone actually gave a fuck.

She sniffed back the emotion. 

“When was the last time you had a break, Naruto?” Shizune asks gently.

She shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant despite how badly she wanted to run. 

“I-I don't know.” She tried to keep her voice stable. “A few months ago, when I had the weekend off.”

“How often do you take time off? Does it every correspond with Sasuke-kun’s schedule?”

“Never. We're both too busy.”

“You have at least fifty days of holiday guaranteed at your ranking.”

“Diplomatic missions, mercenaries, coups, and rogue missing-nin don't stop because I'm having a bad day, let alone a holiday.”
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“Wow, it’s been two-years already, huh?”

“Guess so,” Naruto responds moodily, snatching a fatty piece of barbecued pork off the grill before Choji could get to it.

“Are you guys going to do anything to celebrate?” Ino asks again, fishing like she always did, but Naruto knew it was more so from genuine curiosity than to information gather.

“Dunno,” she replies, taking a swing of sake. “Does it really matter? I mean, last year I think we were both on missions during that time.”

“What?! Of course it matters!” Ino splutters, elbowing Choji. “You tell her, Choji. Didn’t you and Karui go to some beach resort in Kumo for your third anniversary of dating?”

“Yeah, and it was really nice. They had an all you can eat buffet for breakfast and dinner. The beach was private, and the rooms were big. Nothing like the beach hotels in the Land of Fire and Wave. Even the sand was warm and soft.”

“See? Didn’t you guys travel anywhere for your honeymoon?”

“Nope. I mean—I took two weeks off, to finish replacing the floorboards and setting up the garden before things started flowering properly.”

Ino continued to gape at her.

“How is it that the man who brings you flowers after long missions and willingly came back to the place he hates has never taken you on a vacation?”

“Because the only person more stubborn than Sasuke is Naruto.”

“Oh, shut up, Sai.”

Naruto squirmed in her seat, leaning back to think for a moment. This types of situations always made her uncomfortable—as if there was this missing decorum of how she should act or milestones she should be reaching in her relationship, while Sasuke simultaneously just didn’t give a fuck about the status quo while also knowing exactly what to do.

They didn’t formally celebrate their anniversary last year, but she recalls a few weeks later when they’d both been back from their respective missions, they’d gone to the park for Hanami. Sasuke had thoughtfully surprised her with a homemade bento box filled by inarizushi, topped with pickled cherry blossoms, salted-salmon onigiri, tempura shrimp, and crab stuffed maki rolls. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, as they’d been joined by friends. But looking back, his intention was obvious.

In fact, flowers and delicious meals was the least of what Sasuke did.

Despite his natural aloofness, he was astonishingly good at gift giving. Like when he'd seen her shivering on the porch a few weeks ago and wordlessly bought a plush, borg robe with sleeves actually long enough for a woman of her height the next day. He did pretty much all the cooking and was stupidly good at it. He never complained about housework and did most of the laundry. Even his notorious temper that would lead to fist fights and blow-ups had melted into careful patience. They fought far less than they used to as enraged teenagers.

“I don’t think you need a vacation to celebrate,” Sai interjected, pouring more sake for the group. “But surely there’s better ways to relax than terraforming Training Ground 13 every other week, or Uchiha fucking off to travel the pastoral countryside while you sit at home and brood.”

“What. Like painting?”

“Exactly!” Sai smiles. “I know you can draw. Sometimes just taking some time to yourself is soothing. I know you prefer manga over books, but maybe that could be something you try.”

“Sai, I’m not an artist like you,” she sighs, shovelling more rice into your mouth. “I draw when like…I can’t get the words out, ya’know? Diagram style.”

“I didn’t know you could draw, Naruto,” Choji murmurs thoughtfully.

“I did,” Ino hisses. “You’re great at it. Might be fun to sketch out the beautiful plants in your garden instead of sketching out renovation plans. For fun. The only person who genuinely finds training fun other then you two freaks, is Lee. And even that feels like some misguided productivity hidden under the guise of letting some steam loose.”

“I don’t have time for that,” she sighs, rubbing her eyebrows irritably. “Kakashi has me going on every diplomatic opportunity that comes up. And when I’m not doing that, or training, Shikamaru and I are reviewing every single piece of clan law, policy, and legislation dating back to Hashirama’s time.”

She ignored the look Choji of all people threw at Ino and Sai, trying to focus on her meal instead of blowing up at her friends.
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Naruto could feel herself growing upset, biting her lip in a pathetic act of self-preservation as she slowly wrote out each kana at a time.

She’d purposefully tucked herself at the chabudai next to their west-facing window in the living room. Sasuke had been the one to choose its location—he liked to sit there and drink tea in the evening. Especially in the winter. She’d chosen it because it was right next to their genkan, and assuming his mission went well, it’d give her at least a few moments of warning to clean everything up before facing him.

Earlier this morning, she’d swiped a colourful hiragana chart from Iruka’s classroom—it included corresponding words, stroke order, writing direction, and nauseatingly juvenile pictograms. She vaguely recalled being taught some of this, but a lot of her academy days were fuzzy. She mostly remembers feeling hungry, learning which side streets were safest to hide in, and training taijutsu.

Naruto hadn’t done writing drills since she was a child and had never cared to. Her desperate need to read and write quickly meant cutting corners if she was to keep up with her classmates. What at first was kind of a boring exercise turned into growing frustration ballooning in her chest with an inner shame she wasn’t earlier aware of.

Shizune was right. Some of her strokes were right to left. A few of her kana were consistently backwards.

She wonders if she should have heeded Iruka's criticism of her poor literacy skills, rather than concentrating on arithmetic, taijutsu, and ninjutsu to compete with people like Neji, Sakura, and Sasuke. She wonders if she’d paid more attention, if she still would’ve been writing this way. Or if it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

The blonde was in the middle of writing out another ta, when she froze—pen midway through a stroke at the sudden burst of sizzling chakra in her left hand. She whipped over to stare outside suspiciously, seeing nothing, only for the front door to swing open.

“Tadaima,” Sasuke’s smooth voice echoed from the genkan.

There was a breathless quality to it, as his smouldering chakra leaked into the room. She continued to listen to him hurriedly rustle out of his shoes, the unfamiliar sound of Kusanagi’s saya clattering against the bench, and weapons carelessly tossed into the storage closet that was their makeshift armoury. To anyone else, these would be normal sounds to someone exhausted after a mission. In any other circumstance, she’d greet him properly. But Naruto knew better. When Sasuke walked into the room, he was still wearing most of his dirty shinobi gear, including his travel cloak. Relief flashed in his dark eye for a moment, but she had still caught it.

He'd kept his chakra hidden just before arriving, so she couldn’t run.

“Okaeri,” she replies tonelessly, setting the pen down and crossing her arms over the scattering of papers. “You didn’t go to the Tower yet?”

“I wanted to see you.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Kakashi-sensei will be pissed if you submit a late report, ya’know.”

“What are you working on?”

He was deflecting. Just as much as she was. But lying to him when he could plainly see what was on the table was pointless.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead with her fingers.

She didn’t even know how to tell him.

“I saw Shizune today since your sleeping pills didn’t work—”

“—Wait. You took my sleeping pills?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Sasuke’s casual farce shattered, sharp brows furrowing together and his nose scrunching up into furious disbelief.

“When.”

“Like a week ago?”

“The fuck. And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why would I?” she spits back at his accusing tone. “You know your normie meds don’t work on me.”

"How many did you take at once?" he demands, hands on hips, his voice low like a disappointed parent.

“You think I care about dosage, asshole?”

“Tell me.”

“I took like, I don’t know—five.”

“What? Idiot, you can’t take—!”

“—They didn’t even work,” she waved, ignoring the sharp sting of his glare. “I woke up three hours later, so don’t freak out over nothing. Anyway—”

She looked out the window, feeling an anxious knot pull at her intestines when thinking about the diagnosis.

“We talked about my…uh. My shitty sleep schedule. And other shit. One thing led to another, and she thinks I have dyslexia.”

When she shyly peaked back at his face, she was momentarily relieved to see his ire had melted into a suspicious inquisition, but a voice in the back of her head reminded her that was worse.

A curious Sasuke meant a relentless Sasuke.

Unable to hold his stare, her eyes fell to down at her practice kana. The bitterness from earlier rose into her throat again.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was writing ke and su backwards all the time?”

Sasuke was uncharacteristically silent, frozen in place as his eyes diverted to the sheets she’d tried to hide.

“I thought—” he stopped himself, shrugging a little too quickly, and crossing his broad arms over his chest. “I guess I just figured you weren’t taught right. Or that you picked up a bad habit from Jiraiya. It’s no big deal,” he quickly followed up. “So, I didn’t bring it up.”

Her fingers squeezed around the pen, and it took all of her willpower to make sure she wouldn’t crush it. It wasn’t lost on her that he was clearly familiar with what “dyslexia” was. She hated when the word “neglect” hung between them as an explanation for some odd quirk or social faux pas she’d inadvertently tripped into. She felt even more enraged that he immediately had an excuse for her writing—and that no one else had the fucking balls to tell her either, like Kakashi and Shikamaru who read her writing on the daily. For fuck's sake, ke and su were literally more than half of Sasuke's name and no one had thought to say anything?

“You scold me about literally everything, and instead of saying ‘hey, Naruto. Your writing is backwards’ you think ‘your writing is shit and illegible’ is that much better?”

Sasuke at least had the decency to look uncomfortable with her statement.

The tension broke with the loud thumping of Tama galloping down the stairs, knocking into Sasuke’s legs and meowing loudly for his attention. The raven swiftly scooped up their enormous black cat in his arms, Tama rubbing against his chin affectionately, giving Naruto a quick chance to stack her papers together, hiding the elementary level hiragana in-between her notes from Sasuke’s prying eyes.

She stood up quickly, inadvertently spooking Taro, who had been sleeping at her feet. The capricious white cat immediately sprinted to hide behind the raven’s limber legs, peaking at her with wide olive eyes as she stormed past Sasuke, aggressively knocking her shoulder into his on the way out. He remained silent, yet a prickling sensation crawled up her neck as his eyes followed her every move up the stairs.

Avoiding Sasuke was always difficult. And Naruto could rarely sustain the silent treatment.

It wasn’t in their nature. They were both blunt, and she was impervious to Sasuke’s infamous cold stoicism. She was always the one who could make him crack, get him angry and emotional with the right push. Simultaneously, he was the only who could see through her smile. She could never hold a grunge, hated going to bed mad, and rather have him yell at her and be honest than have it bottle up. Even on more quiet days, he could take one look at her and he just knew, and she would crack in seconds. When their fights were physical, it felt like they could communicate and come to some sort of understanding through fists alone. The seals on their hands had only amplified that intuitive fact. Besides, Naruto told Sasuke everything. She could never keep a secret from him. She’s never had this feeling before where she didn’t want to tell him something.

Not until now.

Despite dreading another sleepless night, she stubbornly evaded him by holing up in their bedroom—hiding under the dark navy covers while vigilantly cataloguing every single one of his movements. From his slow shuffling in the kitchen as he undoubtedly fixed himself something for dinner, to walking back toward the genkan and properly storing his weapons, before the creak of the bamboo stairs signalled his imminent arrival. He took his time getting ready; the shower running longer than usual and then he’d loitered in the bathroom for a while. Unexpectedly, he quietly entering their bedroom and slipped into bed beside her. She’s honestly surprised he’s even here—and not opting for the couch or fucking off to brood at a training ground for the night.

He didn’t touch her as he settled into the mattress, and for once, she’s grateful Sasuke convinced her to shell out for a king-sized bed. They’re both tall and bulky. He needs his space, and she thrashes. They’d fallen one too many times on the floor of her old apartment, from trying to squeeze on the tiny twin-sized mattress, and futons reminded him too much of his childhood home. Even with the comfortable space between them, the blonde felt like she was going insane from how still she was trying to be—especially when she could tell Sasuke was awake just from how controlled his stupid breathing was.

It could have been after an hour—or maybe a horrible twenty minutes, she’s not sure—when he rolled over toward her. She didn’t know what he was planning, if it was just to readjust or if he was genuinely settling, until warm fingers hesitantly pressed against her spine.

Naruto sighed. She didn’t know if she was mad at him personally, or on principle.

Just as she shifted over to finally face him, he seized her hip bone with demanding fingers, hurriedly flipping her over, and dragging her until their chests bumped together. His arms were so tightly wrapped around her it was almost painful, and she could feel his pounding heart pulsating against her skin. His nose slotted against her cheek, forehead knocking into hers.

They breathed each other in. Ever inhale slowing down the storm inside her head as his heart eventually normalized to a calm, steady rhythm—tethering her. She swallowed down her annoyance from earlier when it was clear that Sasuke felt bad about it, letting her fingers drift to the short strands of black hair kissing the nape of his neck.

After another firm squeeze, he loosened his grip, pushing her into the mattress and settling his head against her chest. She could feel his prosthetic pressing against her upper back from where she’d trapped it, while his long fingers rubbed the thin skin of ribs through her cotton sleep shirt. Just as the guard she’d had up for days dropped, Sasuke just had to open his mouth.

“What else did Shizune tell you?”

Naruto immediately stiffened, and in retaliation, Sasuke’s fingers clenched into her. It felt like a trap she fell into far too easily. She should have known better that he wasn’t going to let this go.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Naruto…”

She hated the tone of his voice. It was just like in the garden the other day.

“First Sakura, then Shizune, then Ino, Sai, even Choji, and now you? Can you just fucking stop?” she hisses.

Sasuke's fingers twitched, then resumed their earlier ministrations, his hold unwavering. Naruto can tell he’s reassessing…rethinking…re-approaching. She hated how muddy she felt; sleep, unable to find her the longer they sat in silence. The blonde considered shoving Sasuke away only for him to surprise her again.

“You can talk to me,” he hushes, barley above a whisper. “I know I’m not—I’m bad at it. But—”

“—Bad at what?” she couldn’t help but ask lowly, opening her eyes and staring down at the stubborn raven head of hair splayed against her collarbone.

“Just…talking—” he breathes hot air, smouldering her skin. “About…sensitive things.”

He sounds oddly shy, like he always did, during the rare moments he didn't think he was particularly skilled at something. This time however, she didn't quite understand the apprehension. 

Although often perceived as stoic and reserved, speaking only to correct or insult, Sasuke was never one to shy away from a conversation, whatever the topic.

“You’re not—you’re good at it. It’s me who’s—"

“—And yet this… thing has been eating at you for weeks and you don’t—”

He cut himself off, fingers stilling against her again as he exhaled another controlled breath.

“I don’t what?”

“Trust me.”

Is that what he thought?

“That’s not true, it’s just…”

Sasuke snorts contemptuously.

“It’s just…hard to talk about. If I tell you, I feel like you’ll—”

“—I’ll what?”

That he’ll treat her differently. That he’ll change during that process, and he’ll view her as something feminine and fragile and unworthy. Or worse, that he’ll mother her—again—when he’s always been the better partner in their relationship, no matter what other people thought. 

“It’s just…it’s not fucking good, okay?” she blurts out. “She assigned me to Suzume, happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he drawls dryly, without missing a beat. “When do you first see her?”

Naruto felt the fight almost entirely drain out of her, leaving her stumped. She expected more of an…adverse and surprised reaction to the mentioning of Suzume. Maybe some type of comment about her finally seeing a therapist. Especially since Naruto was sure Sasuke hated Suzume, not on a personal level, but just because everything during that time in his life was terrible. If anything, he seemed more curious than judgmental.

“Next week,” she mumbles sheepishly. “For some type of fucking reassessment when all I wanted were some jinchuuriki proof sleeping pills.”

He hums in response. “Is that what you went in for?”

“Yeah,” she admits, the tension slowly melting as she finally sank into the mattress. “Wasn’t expecting to get ambushed.”

“Considering you can fall asleep standing up, she was probably worried when you asked for sleeping pills. You didn’t tell her about—”

“—Obviously I didn’t tell her I took yours. That would lead to more questions. Not that it mattered when she just fucking—”

She cut herself off, tongue heavy and a lump growing in her throat.

“You said reassessment,” he prods. “You were assessed before?”

“Yeah,” she huffs hoarsely, trying to find the words. “Against my own fucking will and without my knowledge. Tsunade apparently diagnosed me at twelve and sixteen and eighteen and never even fucking told me. She just noted it. So, everyone, even Sakura, has read my file and knows this shit when I don’t even—”

“With what?”

The frustrated noise she made in the back of her throat did nothing to deter Sasuke.

She doesn’t know why it’s so difficult to voice. She tells Sasuke everything. Almost to a detriment. And if anyone deserved to know, it’s the person who bound himself to her for life and was actually trying to deal with this. Unlike every other medical shinobi, including Sakura, who gets to pry at her medical records just because.

“Anxious fucking attachment,” she seethes through her teeth. “And other shit resulting from physical and mental neglect after growing up a fuck-up orphan.”

With a scowl Sasuke pushes himself up, staring at her moodily and even in the shadowed darkness of their bedroom she could see the sharp frowning arch of his eyebrow.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he hisses.

“Well, not everyone can be fucking perfect like you.”

Sasuke glowers at her, clearly mulling over his words to keep things from escalating into another argument.

“You of all people know that isn’t true,” he spoke in a frighteningly measured tone. “And what happened to you isn’t your fault. You were a child. The fact that you’re as well-adjusted as you are, and it's only now that you’re having some kind of…low for a few weeks, is insane, Naruto. No one goes through what you and I did and comes out so normal and happy on the other side. Not without serious work.”

Sour tears sting her eyes. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to keep in from warbling.

It was hard to hear. No one really talked about her childhood like that. Even Sasuke, who she often avoided talking about this with as to not deepen his hatred of Konoha. They’d had arguments about Sarutobi before. About the ANBU that would give her pennies and small portions of food. Sometimes things would come up, like how once she’d been beaten by a furious shopkeeper who’d caught her stealing an apple, and how it wasn’t a onetime incident, and she’d never seen Sasuke so angry in her life—including all the times he’s tried to kill her. But there had always been a more political and philosophical overture to those spats, as she’d riot at every single whisper of pity. Even with friends, the academy was a silent taboo, with more time spent reminiscing about their time as Genin.

“Naruto?” he asks again, warm palm pressed against her thin collarbones, eyes searching her face until he realized exactly where the wound was. He holds her gaze, eyes firming resolutely.

“It wasn’t your fault. And it’s fucked that Tsunade didn’t tell you about any of this.”

She shrugs dismissively, sniffing back the tears, although one managed to slither down the side of her face, pooling against her temple.

“She thought I had decent coping skills,” she sneers, trying to keep her voice level. “While Shizune thinks that was the wrong call, and now I’m having a ‘depressive episode’, or whatever.”

“And was dyslexia noted by Tsunade in your file?”

“Yes. But I guess the shitty writing in my reports was good enough.”

Sasuke didn’t comment outright, continuing to stare at her in the darkness, as if he could still see every single part of her. She swore she saw a hint of a shadowy grimace just as he bowed his head, heavy forehead nestling against her chest. It was probably the closest thing she was going to get to an apology, she thinks.

When he eventually raises his head and resettles into a more comfortable position, she was surprised by his continued contemplative stare.

“Suzume is…intense,” he confesses. “But not malicious. She cares more about clinical work than her shinobi duties. She disagrees with Ibiki more than you’d think and calls it as it is.”

Although she was aware of Sasuke’s major depressive and post-traumatic stress diagnoses, and some treatments he’d undergone, she had never learned the details. She’d never cared to ask. It had never been a big deal, and she just tried to treat him normally, as if nothing had changed since he first left. When she’d heard about the symptoms from Sakura, none of it seemed out of place. If anything, it had reminded her of half the people she knew—including Kakashi-sensei.

“I’m sure you loved someone calling you out on your shit.”

He cocked his head to the side, long side bangs falling to the side to reveal his lavender eye. Slowly, a smirk wormed its way onto his lips.

“Just as much as you do.”

She frowns, dreading the upcoming appointment already.

“Is she…gonna mind fuck me?”

“No. But it will probably feel that way for the first few sessions.”

“Did she like, I don’t know, use jutsu to make you talk?”

“That’s not technically her job unless it’s an official interrogation. But she can if you ask her too.”

She could barley talk about this with Sasuke…how was she going to talk about any of this with a stranger? Who worked with Ibiki of all people?

Just as she felt her mind agonize over what she was going to say and how, Sasuke pushed up, sitting on the side of the bed and stretching his arms overhead.

“I’ll make some tea,” he mutters, before staring down at her. “Since it’s not like we’re going to get much sleep, anyway.”

“Sasuke, look—” she sighs, fiddling with the edge of their sheets. “I—at least you should try to get some sleep. It's not fair for me to be miserable in fucking bed and for both of us to suffer because of it. I’ll go on the couch or something.”

The raven threw her a silencing look, grabbing her hand and hauling her up into a sitting position. His grip remained firm, his expression unreadable, before he leaned in and gently kissed her damp temple.

“You have five minutes to get your ass out of this bed, or I’ll make you,” he threatens in a biting whisper, finally letting go of her wrist and standing up.

“Come on, usuratonkatchi,” he tosses over his shoulder, grabbing the black haori hanging on the door on his way out.

Words couldn't even begin to express how relieved she felt.

And like always, she followed him. 

Chapter Text

Sasuke held the sun and the moon in his eyes.

In his right eye, Amaterasu—goddess of the sun and the universe; one of the Three Noble Children. Yin, spiritual energy, creating something out of nothing externally. In his left, the Rinnegan and Kagutsuchi—the wheel of reincarnation illuminated through the phases of the moon, leading from death to rebirth; and fire and the hearth. Destroyer of worlds and purifier. Yang, physical energy, internally manipulating natural factors.

The moon was nothing more than a refraction of light from the sun.

Naruto vividly remembers when Jiraiya had taken her into a shrine during the Hi Matsuri festival in late October on the outskirts of the Land of Fire. The smell of smoke and greasy street food, mixed with the blazing heat pouring from the procession of flames, made her dizzy. However, it was the Kanushi’s chilling words of “purifying the gateway to demons and other evil spirits” while flames were soaring high into the midnight sky that had sent waves of nausea through her. It had reminded her of Sasuke’s jutsu searing her flesh—almost freeing her of the jinchuuriki curse. She couldn't help but think of Sasuke. How she saw herself in him as if they were warped mirrors of each other. Naruto used to wonder if the memory of her oozing flesh and blood gripping his arm haunted him as much as the slow-healing hole in her chest haunted her. She now knew that it did.

But she didn’t back then. She’d agonized over it, wandering into a random inn to look for a bathroom where she could puke her guts out, only to freeze at the humble, water-coloured painting in the lobby. It depicted a monkey holding onto a dangling branch, trying to reach the reflection of the moon in the water. It seemed so…simple. Like something a child could have done, and yet it hung proudly in the centre.

Jiraiya had found her a few minutes later, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder as he patiently explained, “it's a metaphor, you see. Instead of focusing on itself, the monkey is fixated on the reflection of water—an illusion. Once the moon sets, the reflection will disappear, and so will everything the monkey thinks it knows about itself.”

The villagers at Mount Kibune had grown in fear of Tailed Beasts for centuries. The way they interpreted and understood the Will of Fire was theirs to hold and cherish, but she knew better. They only knew a portion of a truth twice removed, just like a reflection in water. Not all spirits were evil. Kurama was even her friend now—no longer a spirit of corruption, but energy in its purest form shaped by the Sage of Six Paths. Jiraiya was the one who always reminded her to keep her rage in check and try to learn about a situation and the person first before acting. At the time, the metaphor and Jiraiya’s training had helped her look beyond Sasuke as a refracted reflection and actually focus on herself.

But that was a long time ago.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

Naruto looked up to see Sasuke standing over her. His thick, ebony strands of hair framed his sharp face and cast it in a shadow, as he blocked the harsh rays of the sun from her eyes. It illuminated a veil around his head like he was some sort of goddamn spiritual gift. In a way, he was—sun and moon. But what did that make her? The seal on Sasuke's hand was obviously the moon, but hers could be anything. A sun…perhaps a full moon? Or what about the wheel of reincarnation? Or maybe something more boring.

He furrowed his eyebrows, and she recognizes it as masked concern, breaking the illusion.

“Nothing,” she finally mutters, throwing an arm over her eyes. “And quit staring at me like that, you creep.”

“How am I staring at you?”

“Like I'm going to explode or something.”

“Well, that's typically how an aneurysm happens.”

“Oh, ha ha,” she replies sardonically. “I'm perfectly capable of thinking without your supervision.”

Ever since he'd caught her crying in the garden a few weeks ago, he's been keeping an annoyingly close eye on her. It wasn't even subtle anymore, and it had only gotten worse after the night she’d spilled her diagnosis to him and had her first session with Suzume.

She finds it ironic that after chasing him for years, adjusting to his prickly and catlike behaviours, the moment he sniffed something out akin to "avoidance" he was stalking her better than a bloodhound. If he kept it up, he'd give Akamaru a run for his money.

She heard his clothes rustle as he sat down, felt the grass shift against her skin as he shifted close enough to push against her, and the infinite heat that seemed to radiate off his skin no matter how cold it was. It made her think of how he embodied another harmony—the cold strike of lightning's fire along with the blazing fury of flames.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks again.

Her arm already hid her eyes, yet she still scrunched them shut. She still didn’t feel comfortable talking about these things out loud. Despite the gracious patience Sasuke’s been showing her for the past month, she knew he was boiling on the inside.

“I'm having a peaceful moment by the river. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Naruto.”

“Deadass.”

“I don't need the seal to literally hear your thoughts racing, moron. But in case you're wondering, yeah. It's loud.”

Right. That little inconvenience.

The seals the Sage had gifted them with weren't just a flashy way they could share their chakra. The seals created a link between them; while they couldn't read each other's minds, she could perceive his emotions and mood. On a good day, she could even gauge more or less where he was without resorting to nature release or sensing his chakra. She’d thought she’d been pretty good at suppressing some of her chakra leaking through their bond. Like always, Sasuke was more…precise than she was.

Naruto sighed, ignoring the raven to lift her left hand in front of her, staring at the thin black line of the circle resting in the middle of her palm. Just slightly above it rests her wedding band. It was a gold, a little thicker than the thin, dainty bands with large stones that were in fashion because she’d been worried of accidentally snapping it in half. There were three small etchings of stars in the precious metal embedded with tiny diamonds. Sasuke had been the one who’d decided on that custom detail.

“I just don't get it.”

“Get what?”

“What I am.”

“I don't follow.”

“It's like this—” she avoids his gaze, raising her wrapped arm next to the other. Like she was representing the living and the dead.

“You're both the sun and the moon. So, what does that make me?”

“Excuse me?”

“I guess with Susano'o that also makes you the ocean. That's light, dark, and water. And fire. All you're missing is maybe earth and wind and then you'd get to add a full elemental suite. All I am, is Kurama's jinchuuriki. So, a host for an energy beast. The biggest energy beast—”

“—Naruto, what the hell are you talking about—?”

“—That's a demon fox—I don’t even know why the Sage was thinking when he chose which animal gets what tail. I guess there's that one ghost story of the kitsune's but she's an evil spirit, but can we really call women who were wronged by their shitty husbands in life evil for killing them when they're spirits? Sounds kind of misogynistic to me, but the point stands that—”

His hand clamped over her mouth firmly with a smack, silencing the rest of her rambling diatribe.

The blonde grabbed his wrist in retaliation, only for Sasuke to throw an elbow across her chest; suddenly straddling her as he pinned her down. There was no point in struggling when Sasuke put his mind to something—and he was a relentless bastard when he wanted to get his way. And she hated how pretty he looked, his expression a mixture of annoyance and concern that made her heart ache. The glowing halo still shinning brightly behind his inky hair that swayed in the wind; outlining his strong shoulders and thick porcelain arms from the black, high-collared sleeveless shirt he'd donned today.

“What's gotten you so philosophical?” he more so demands than asks, leaning back, while the weight of his body still pressed her into the ground.

Naruto huffs out a sigh, looking away to stare at the wispy blades of grass that kissed her face.

In truth, she didn't know.

She's felt…stuck. If she was honest, the feeling started after the War, but she was so busy that it was easy to ignore. Shizune's impersonal diagnosis had made her bitter with fury. Suzume had doubled down on it, forcing her to talk about memories she would rather forget in their first appointment while ensuring her these thoughts were normal and reinforced that her childhood was anything but normal. What was she supposed to make of that? How could any of this be normal?

She didn’t understand why this was happening to her. That all her other friends had moved into higher-ranking positions, somewhat content with their lives, while her selfishness cast a haze over the wonderful things in hers. And Sasuke…

After last week, he hadn’t pressured her to reveal what happened in her first meeting with Suzume. Instead, he started walking around her like she was a spooked animal to a point where she kind of wished he would just drag her to a training ground or punch her in the face, or something. She was trying not to be…weird and avoidant. If anything, she had been trying to figure out how to express what she’s thinking without making it sound horrible. If anything, she’s surprised he’s been on her ass so hard.  

After his release from prison, things had been bad. He was cagey and argumentative. She had found out from Ino, who found out from Sakura, that he was having mandatory psych evals at least once a week. Kakashi had eventually admitted to her he’d insisted on therapy sessions leading up to his release with a professional who cared. She hadn’t even tried to stop him when he’d insisted on leaving, wandering the continent for two years doing kami knows what along with casual spy work. He’d returned like the fabled prodigal son—remorseful and changed. While the older generations were split about their views on the Uchiha, most welcomed the return of the Sharingan back to Konoha. The younger shinobi both feared and revered him—remembering his prowess from their academy days to the battlefield. Even their friends had warmed up to him again to a point where sometimes Shikamaru of all people would go get tea with him and Neji.

She never tried to judge his anger, only to understand it and give it space. All she’d ever tried to do was make him feel normal. Give him the space to grieve in his own way while reminding him her door would always be open.

“I'm not philosophical, I guess I—I just feel purposeless. I don't know where I fit,” she finished with a whisper—refusing to look at him as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

Naruto expected him to say something mean. Or maybe attempt to tease her into a better mood. He surprised her with his honesty.

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

Sasuke shrugged, placing his warm hands against her ribs.

“The War was another trauma. Trauma makes you feel existential. Sadness exasperates that feeling and if the cycle repeats, it all just starts feeling normal. You’re not the only one who feels this way.”

“Yeah, but if you're the sun and the moon, where do I fit?”

Sasuke's cheeks immediately reddened.

“If I'm what?”

“You heard me.”

“In what stupid universe inside your head am I both the sun and the moon, usuratonkatchi?”

She released an exasperated sigh and pointed a finger at Sasuke's face.

“Your right eye controls Amaterasu.”

“…Yes.”

“You’re left eye is Kagutsuchi and Rinnegan.”

“…Correct.”

“Well then, there you go.”

Sasuke's well-constructed façade of patience finally broke as he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking extremely irritated.

“That literally makes no sense, idiot.”

“Yes, it does! Amaterasu and Kagutsuchi—goddess of the sun and god of fire. Rinnegan—the cycle of reincarnation. It follows the phases of the moon. Sun deities, moon structures. Yin and yang. Nothing and something—”

“—I'm going to throw out that book Sai gave you about religion and local shamanism. It's melting your brain—”

“—What does this have to do about religion?” she splutters. “I'm not worshipping you. I'm stating a fact!”

“—This.” Sasuke raised his left hand up, flashing the dark moon crescent burned into his hand, the small diamonds in his ring catching the sparkle of the sun. “Is a symbol of the yin release. Meanwhile, you have the yang release. My clan dojutsu has nothing to do with this. As to why mine looks like a moon and yours is ambiguous isn't some strange and twisted conspiracy about your entire sense of being, Naruto.”

“Yea but—”

“—and the Sage of Six paths may have claimed we were reincarnations of his two sons, but it doesn't have to rule your life.”

She moodily looked away again, letting her arm limply fall. The weight of Sasuke's body on top of her was heavy, and she hated how easily he seemed to read her mind. But this time she wanted to hide—either in their bed and sleep for days or throw herself into the river. It still didn't answer her question…or why she felt eclipsed by how easy it was for Sasuke to just make sense of everything.

Before she could help it, the swirling thought that had been bubbling in her gut for weeks erupted as the words blurt out of her.

“Honestly, Sasuke, sometimes I don't believe that you love me.”

To say Sasuke looked crescent fallen was an understatement.

His carefully constructed guard shattered. His serious and annoyed expression uncharacteristically crumbled. Visible sadness welled in his eyes like a cracked black mirror and his lips were down turned, clenching into something pained.

Naruto immediately regretted it. Guilt making her palms clammier than they already were. She bit her lip, the urge to vomit rushing up her throat from the shame.

“Do I not—I—” he stutters dimly. It's so jarring and makes her sick with guilt. She knows she's hurt him.

“I'm sorry—” she gasps, bringing her hands to her chest, digging her fingers into her skin as a self-soothing gesture, wary of touching Sasuke. She's sure that he's so angry he'd just slap her hands away and storm off.

“I'm sorry,” she repeats. “I didn't mean to say it like that, I just—”

“—I know what you meant,” he cut her off sharply, palms slamming down next to her head.

She felt caged as he leaned over her menacingly, thighs squeezing her hips tightly to semi-immobilize her.

“Sometimes you're so fucking dense, Naruto,” he seethes, face slowly hardening again to hide the momentary lapse of shock and emotion.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, and it was hard to breathe.

“I know. And I know you do, I just—”

“—You matter, idiot. You're my entire fucking—” he cut himself off with a furious exhale, shaking his head. His eye becoming stormy, like her single lapse of judgment had sparked something in him.

His eyes, like a lightning strike, met hers again, a jolt of electricity that stopped her dead in her tracks with her breath catching in her throat.

“I do love you,” he hisses through gritted teeth, looming over her with blushing cherry cheeks, like it was physically painful to say the words. “I'm in love with you. I wouldn't have put a fucking ring on your finger if I didn't want everyone to know that you're irrefutably and absolutely mine.”

It sounded like a threat. Knowing Sasuke, it probably was.

“I know,” she croaks, melting under his commanding stare.

“Do you?” he sneers, unnervingly leaning in and cocking his head to the side. “Because it seems like you’re content imagining every single reason why I wouldn’t, while diminishing your entire existence.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the thoughts swirling in her head, unclasping her hands to press them against his hard chest, trying to put some distance between them. “It's not that—”

“—We're two halves of the same whole, don't you get it?”

She sighs, fingers drawing around the fabric of his shirt.

“I'm sorry,” she apologizes again, ignoring Sasuke's retaliatory scowl. “I don't know why I'm feeling like this. You're not—”

It felt like everything she was saying was wrong.

She didn't know how to explain the thoughts in her head without it sounding bad. That she logically knew it was fucked up, but still had to go through the emotional wave it tried to drown her in. She didn’t mean to make it sound like it was Sasuke's fault that she had these feelings. If anything, the only reason she felt like her head was still above water was because of him. It’s embarrassing that it’s come to this, when she’s an elite shinobi who’s survived far worse than this and with a smile on her face.

Impossibly, Sasuke leaned in closer, arms sliding past her head and the full weight of his chest dropping against her hands until she was forced to let go. She’s too nervous to touch him, so she lays them down flat into the grass as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. It didn't feel intimate or comforting. He was so close she couldn't look away, her furious partner demanding her uninterrupted and absolute attention.

“I already told you. I get it,” he whispers hotly into her face, his blistering breath a reminder that in a split second he could spit fire. “It's shitty, but normal. You're not infallible. What pisses me off is that even after all these fucking years, you don't believe you're worth loving,” he huffed, shifting on her lap.

She closes her eyes, his scorching presence burning her skin to reveal a deep, silent wound hidden beneath the surface. Because it was Sasuke, he kept pushing.

“Do you not realize how important you are to me?”

“Sasuke—”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“…Usuratonkatchi.”

“Asshole.”

He hums knowingly.

“It's not just me," he teases sharply, bowing so his lips pressed against her brow. "You don't even see how other people look at you. The effect you have on them.”

“I-I don't care what other people think of me.”

“And they're lucky you don't,” he rumbles dangerously, pulling her so that they were both on their sides, facing each other. The implication, for once, wasn't lost on her. Sasuke had never been good at hiding his jealous tendencies. Besides, her inquisitive partner's diagnosis, like always, hit Naruto's softest parts.

Shyly the blonde unclenched her face, peeking at Sasuke with one of her eyes. The earlier ire had shifted into a look of fondness, a soft smirk tugging at the raven's lip. The sun no longer shone from behind him, instead illuminating his ebony eye to a deep chestnut, his skin less pearl white and a more soft, pale peach. She could see the almost invisible dusting of freckles on his nose from sitting in the early morning sun each morning. The long grass lapped at his cheeks alongside his messy bangs, sweeping across his face while hiding his other lavender eye.

“You say I'm the sun, and moon,” he murmurs, “tides and all this shit. But do you ever think of what you are to me?”

Deep down, she knew. She could see his heart just as much as he could see hers. That they understood each other without words and Sasuke usually was just as shy as she was to voice them, preferring to show his affection by knocking her around on a training ground for a few hours and then later cooking her dinner. But that felt too exposing to say out loud. And the nasty voice that's rooted itself in her head whispered that it was all an illusion, anyway. Naruto tried to stuff it down.

“Uhh, your partner? Your spouse? Your best friend?”

“Idiot, you are all those. I meant what I just said.”

She sighed, the prickling mortification on her face starting to burn her uncomfortably.

“You're gonna make me say it.”

“Yes, obviously.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, glaring at him only for Sasuke to smile meanly in response. She tried her hardest to hold out, staring directly into his dark eye, knowing she wouldn't last long against his unflinching gaze. However, it looked like Sasuke had less patience than she originally perceived. After a moment, he wrapped his fingers around her forearm, and she felt the familiar stinging zap of Sasuke's lightning release.

“Ite!! What the fuck!”

“Say it.”

“Kami, you're such a bossy, stubborn bitch!”

“Mm, that doesn't sound like what I said.”

“Ugh, and you say I'm annoying!” she grumbled under her breath.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow, and she could hear the crackle of his lightning charging again.

“Fine! You think I'm important to you and I'm like the sun, or some shit?”

Sasuke, looking spectacularly unimpressed, zapped her again.

“ Ow!! Teme!”

“I said, we're two halves of the same whole.”

Naruto doesn't know why the way he says it, so resolutely, made her squirm. For someone who could barely spit out the words “I love you” without making it sound like he was at knife point, stuff like this came easily to him.

“I guess,” she relents, raising her hand to stare at the small circle etched into her skin again. “A sun and a moon are a symbolic pair.”

He took a hold of her hand, pulling it forward so he could look at it properly.

“I don't think it’s a sun.”

“Really?”

“Mm. I think mine's a crescent and yours is a gibbous moon. Two halves of a whole, or two faces of the same thing. They are identical in every way except one reflects more light, obscuring its dark backside.”

He really could see right through her; she couldn't help but think. Not just the good, but the bad, the ugly, and the hidden. She didn't know what to say, worried that revealing more of the abnormal thoughts in her head would only upset him again. She didn't want to hurt him. Instead, she twisted to take hold of Sasuke's left hand, his actual hand, rubbing the matching ring on his finger absent-mindedly.

“I think we deserve a vacation,” he suddenly spoke, voice low and soft.

Her brows furrowed.

“What? You mean go to like a hot spring for an evening?”

She could see the flash of disappointment on his face before he hid it with a thoughtful look. It didn't matter, she already knew it was there.

“No. I mean an extended leave of absence.”

Naruto didn't know what to think. She's never had time off, beyond a few days here and there. There was always work to do, always training to do, missions, unrest, documents to write, and archives to review.

Absences were for civilians or injuries.

“Sasuke, I can't do that, there's too much—”

“—I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. We're going.”

“ Where?”

He shrugged, stopping her ministrations by lacing their fingers together.

“Anywhere you want.”

“Kakashi-sensei won't—”

“—I already talked to Kakashi. He approved it.”

“When?”

“An hour ago.”

“What about our cats? The garden? My plants? Who will watch our house for that long?”

“Ino agreed to do it.”

“What? When did you talk to Ino?”

“Yesterday.”

The expression he wore was neutral, but she knew better. He was gauging her reaction.

“How long have you thought about this?”

“A while.”

She chewed her lip anxiously. It felt unreal.

“Sasuke, I—”

“It's done. It's been finalized. You're off duty for the next six weeks.”

Her immediate thought was panic. That Sasuke had done this behind her back, that she didn't know what to do with so much time off, that she didn't understand his reasoning for making this—

“—Stop overthinking it,” he commands, expression twisting into something more aloof. Over the years, she’d learned that he'd naturally lean into when feeling defensive.

“I…I don't know what to think,” she answers honestly.

“Have you had time off? Ever?”

She thought about it for a moment.

“A few days. After Jiraiya died. And after our fight, because we lost our arms. I was in the hospital longer than usual.”

His hand dropped to her elbow, fingers digging into the seams of her prosthetic.

“Well. It’s about damn time you get to be lazy on a beach somewhere.”

Even though he was teasing, his voice sounded heavy. Like he was just as tired as Naruto felt. Her marked palm quivered, feeling his restraint like Sasuke needed this just as much as he thought she did. Like he was hanging off the same thread.

Finally, Naruto gave in. Burying her face into the soft cotton collar of Sasuke’s neck, pushing until she was half laying on his chest, wrapping herself around him. The raven returned the hold immediately, strong arms clasping tightly around her waist and deflating with an exhale.

She hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.

“Preferably with you?”

“Preferably with me, yeah. Were you thinking of someone else?”

She snorted; the noise muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“Obviously not, bastard,” she grumbled, refusing to surface from the safety of his collar.

He hummed in response, the muscles she didn't even know he was tensing relaxing under her weight.

“When do you want to leave?”

“I was thinking at the end of the week. Packing for a vacation is different than a mission. Gives you time to work out the watering details with Ino. And to freak out about it a few times before realizing it will all be fine.”

“Fine,” she relents, realizing that he really had thought of everything before daring to tell her of his plan.

“It's…fine. I'll go. Wherever you take me…As long as there's at least one hot spring.”

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

“Holy shit! I forgot how big everything gets here!”

Naruto ran off toward the enormous, variegated monstera curling around Yugakure’s city gate. She side stepped one of the many city grates where hot steam was erupting, pouring into the many well maintained tropical garden beds inevitably benefiting from the humidity. Her eyes sparkled as she grasped a gigantic leaf, stretching it out to measure it against her arm. It’s the first time in their trip that she’s cracked a smile. As she continued to examine it, Sasuke let out a slow, controlled exhale.

Naruto could usually chatter for hours and hours on end, and yet their slow trek had been mostly characterized by silence. Not an awkward silence, but genuine—as she’d stare out at the forest lost in her own world. He can’t believe he misses her nervous jabbering and need to fill the space with every single unfiltered thought that’d come to mind; or her wide, blinding grin that always eased any tension. He used to hate when she’d fake smile at him and pretend everything was normal, but at least then, he knew how to call her out for it to get her to fess up about whatever was eating at her.   

Sasuke’s never seen Naruto like this for an extended period. The sunny jinchuuriki was temperamental, yet always had the bizarre ability to brush off whatever was bothering her quickly. She had bad days, like everyone, but she would always talk to him. Would fess up eventually even at her nastiest. This was something different. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to do or how best to approach a situation. After all the bombs he’s accidentally walked into over the past few weeks, he’s wary to step into more. He cares too much about her. And his pride is too big to let himself keep fucking up this way, but it almost seems impossible to avoid.

First, he’d asked Sakura if Naruto had even been this low for longer than a few days. Their pink-haired teammate had immediately looked away blushingly, quickly admitting that there was a time after Jiraiya had died, and that she should have been a better friend then. It had only faded when Shikamaru and the other guys had dragged Naruto out of her shitty shoebox apartment a few times and her own revenge quest had quickly galvanized her. When he’d asked about how intimate her knowledge of Naruto’s medical records actually was, she was immediately sheepish and defensive. Sakura’s quiet, guilt-ridden confession had infuriated him. He would have reamed her out harder, if he hadn’t been worried about the news getting back to Naruto.

Ino had explained that before the Akatsuki had formerly attacked the Village in search of Naruto, Asuma-sensei had died. They’d all been grieving and anxious about the escalating situation. Besides, no one had been concerned, because in the end Naruto had always been fine. Always too cheerful, too hopeful, and too resilient. He didn’t bother reminding her of how awful her childhood was—how mean all of them had been in the academy. None of them really could understand what it was like to become self-reliant at such a young age. It has caused his own guilt to bubble acidly in his throat.

Shikamaru and Kakashi had been next, his days of simmering irritation exploding into a furious tirade where his words were purposefully sharp as he condemned their frankly shitty and appalling ignorance. How distraught she’d been at both Shizune’s and Suzume’s diagnoses and how she blamed herself for the abuse and neglect she’d survived, even though she refused to voice it. How the inevitability of her reaching a breaking point and being consumed by a tsunami of emotions was fucking obvious. They at least had the decency to admit they should have done better, realize that things like her writing probably bothered her, but she was stubborn to hide it behind a wise crack. It was that day they decided it was best if Naruto had some time off.

Sasuke was just as culpable for noticing the signs and for assuming she’d be fine. He doesn’t know if he can forgive himself for it. He doesn’t blame Naruto, but addressing these things with her… “difficult” didn’t even begin to cover it.

The ferocious blonde never enjoyed admitting weakness or having her hyper-independence challenged. Naruto hated talking about her childhood, her forced self-sufficiency, and lack of basic nurturing. She’s so insistent on talking about his traumas and giving him the space to grieve, to scream his frustration out, and debate the shinobi system, yet refused to allow him to reciprocate and share her pain despite everything they’d gone through. Maybe a few years ago he would have called her stubborn and stupid to get any kind of reaction out of her. But they weren’t angry teenagers anymore, and they’d worked hard on their communication to actually understand each other without the need of fists and burning jutsu.

He couldn’t erase the memory of her wet, glowing eyes from a few weeks ago when she’d been crying in the garden, so lost in her own misery she hadn’t even realized her own tears. How the visceral memory of every name she'd been called—from stupid to dimwitted—had washed over him when he found the practice kana, she'd desperately tried to hide from him. How hazy and numb she’s become, haunting their home like a yokai.

“Come see! It’s like, three times larger than the one we have at home!” the blonde called, pushing her sweaty bangs out of her face, despite a few rogue hairs sticking to her forehead from the humidity.

He’s known since they were children that Naruto had body issues. It had been slow, tedious work for her to become comfortable with her body around him. Not even from a sexual standpoint—which was apparently different. Just, with everyday intimacy. The process had been borderline agonizing. Each day, a tedious step forward that took literal years of melting one bulky clothing layer at a time; all while she annoyingly couldn’t grasp that he genuinely found her physically attractive. The weight of her self-doubt was still heavy, but manageable. Yet it had all reversed in a matter of weeks.

For fuck's sake, the jacket she was wearing in this sweltering weather was black—the only colour a few blue and orange stripes decorating the sleeves. Her black shinobi cargo pants, despite their long and loose fit, were dense. Sasuke can tell they’re his, because they were actually long enough to cover her ankles. She hadn’t even unzipped the tall collar nestled under her chin, or rolled up her sleeves, or something, despite the growing flush on her cheeks.

Obediently, he walks over.

“Do you see this?” Naruto asks, pointing toward the yellow splotching on the leaves. “Guess how much Ino sells this variety for.”

Her raspy voice sounded breathless. Undoubtedly from how clearly overheated she was, but he didn’t dare comment. Not after she’d dutifully packed a proper backpack for the impromptu trip and had even willingly followed him out of Konoha’s gates without fussing or throwing a last-minute fit. In fact, ever since he’d told her about her forced leave, she’d been uncharacteristically docile. But his patience was wearing thin. And watching her renewed enthusiasm for plants, he couldn’t help but feel a momentary wash of relief as his weak heart swelled in his chest.

“Like 5000 ryo.”

“More like 10,000.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s way too much.”

“Yeah, it's this speckled patterning. It’s super rare, which makes it popular.”

A mischievous grin gradually stretched across her face. A hidden kunai slid out of her sleeve, the blonde snatching it as she quickly glanced over her shoulder before looking at him pointedly. He knew that look all too well.

“We already have a monstera, usuratonkatchi. And it's fucking huge.”

“But this one is so pretty, it's really rare, and it's expensive as fuck! Ino’s mom literally only gets one or two every few months. Please, Sasuke?”

The raven weighed his options. They were drowning in a riotous jungle of plants; Naruto, with her annoying habit of stealing cuttings or buying a hoard of discounted saplings during his longer missions, only added to the chaos. Her green thumb was strong enough to revive even the most miserable of plants, which meant the collection kept growing. But he was weak to the sudden spark in her azure eyes that he hadn’t seen in weeks.

He indulged her by silently turning around, keeping watch while listening to the quiet rustling of her inevitably searching for the perfect baby leaf, and slicing it from the stem.

“So, where’s our ryokan?” she asks after the familiar sound of puffing smoke, signalling she’d sealed the cutting away.  

“It's right nearby,” he comments.

He glanced at her, frowning as beads of sweat trickled down her temple as she stuffed the sealing scroll into her backpack. When she swung the bag back around, she paused, staring at him.

“What?”

He’s been nice to not say anything for hours. But this was getting ridiculous.

The raven took a step forward, ignoring his partner’s surprised expression as he grabs her zipper and forcefully drags it down. He sneers at the sight of a cotton T-shirt underneath and the red splotches on her neck that were undoubtedly the start of a heat rash. She probably didn’t care because Kurama would heal it by the end of the day. He couldn’t believe that instead of some type of breathable mesh shirt, she’d worn something just as thick while fully knowing that their first stop was the humid, steam-filled Land of Hot Waters. She grabs his wrist before he could drag it past her chest.

“The fuck, man—”

“You can’t convince me you’re not boiling in this stupid jacket.”

Her cheeks turn uncomfortably red. Well, redder than they already were.

Naruto looked like she was about to explode.

“Talk to me,” he insists lowly, fingers still firmly pinching her zipper so he could pull her in close enough that their sandals touched. Just like he had a few weeks ago. It used to be easy to read her mind, but even he’s struggling to make sense of the tempestuous storm swirling in her head.

Naruto slowly relented, despite the guarded look on her face, her shoulders dropped and the grip on his wrist loosened. She still held him, though, as opposed to pushing him away and storming off. That had to be some kind of progress.

“I’m just…I just—I wanted to wear something that made me feel comfortable, okay?”

“You look the exact opposite of comfortable—”

“—I know you ass. I just didn’t want people to look at me.”

He figures she means “perceived,” as it was clear everyone was staring at the fool burrowed in near-winter clothing in one of the continent's warmest countries. He could at least relate to her in that regard, even if in his case it was more of an annoyance than genuine discomfort.

“Look,” he sighs, “let’s just get to our ryokan and settle, alright? All the rooms with private onsen were booked, but their public baths are for hotel guests only. It shouldn’t be too crowded. I’ll even order room service or something later.”

She nods with an averted gaze, fingers dropping to the crook of his elbow.

So, he had guessed right.

“Um. My hands are really fucking sweaty right now, but—”

“—I don’t care,” he murmurs, letting go to tuck Naruto’s hand against him properly, guiding her through the city gates as she held on tightly, plastering herself closely in a rare display of public affection.

Sasuke doesn’t know what he did to deserve the unconditional love and devotion of someone like Naruto, but he’d be damned if he didn’t do everything to prove his own unwavering loyalty.
.

.

.
Sasuke leaned against the wall, fingers drumming against the sleeve of the ryokan’s complimentary yukata as he waited impatiently for Naruto to emerge from the women’s entrance to the onsen.

They’d agreed to meet back in the main lobby at half-past six to grab dinner from the hotel’s restaurant and eat privately in their room, but he’s already been waiting for fifteen minutes and the seal on his hand started throbbing about ten minutes ago. It was busier than he thought it’d be, the lobby filled with busy tourists coming in and out of the segregated onsen entrances. Given what had happened earlier today, he couldn’t help but feel concerned. The chakra leak was intensely emotional, and an unusual knot of anxiety tightened in his chest as he worried about her possibly having a meltdown, whether in the back of the changing room or the secluded hot water pool. The heavy, humid air amplified his unease. He was tempted to henge himself into a woman and go looking for her, but Naruto would probably throat punch him from embarrassment.

He scrutinized the next round of women exiting the change room, when finally, he spotted her. A white towel, like a cowl, shrouded her blonde hair, partially obscuring her scowling face in shadow, despite her towering height—at least a head taller than most of the other women. She was hurrying toward him, clearly upset.

“What happened?” he barley manages to ask when she’s within earshot, only for Naruto to furiously seize his yukata’s lapels and drag him toward her.

“I got fucking recognized.”

“What. Really?”

“Yeah, who would’ve fucking thought?” she seethed. “Since ya’know, there are sooo many blonde shinobi in hidden villages. I got recognized by some kunoichi with my arm unbandaged and my bare ass hanging out when I was getting out of the water and—”

“—Did they say something to you?”

“N-not anything bad, I just—”

She shook her head furiously. Judging by her tone, it probably wasn’t anything bad. Perhaps some flattery, even, but it didn’t really matter. She was clearly overwhelmed.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, keenly aware that they were still in public. “We can go back to our room and get food later, or I can go—”

“—No. I’m fucking starving. I just didn’t expect to get ambushed when I’m—” she cut herself off.

She meant when she was vulnerable. Mentally and physically.

“Whatever you want,” he concedes, tugging on both ends of the towel to draw her in close.

The blonde glares at him but there was no heat in it, her eyes quickly darting to the ground as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Maybe just…give me a second to…I don’t know…”

“Take your time,” he soothes, feeling thankful that she’d sought him out, as opposed to stewing in some dark corner. That she trusted him. “But just so you know, you might get stared at more if you keep this makeshift hood on.”

She huffs out a laugh, seeming a little calmer as she looks at him with sparkling summer sky eyes.

“Oh please, you act like you’re not going to scare off anyone who stares at me for too long with murderous vibes alone.”

“Well, duh.”

He missed that look.
.

.

.
Predictably, Naruto had been restless throughout the first night. The tossing and turning wasn’t as bad as it could be, but when he’d stirred awake at around six in the morning, she’d been laying there—tired eyes staring directly at the ceiling while her mind ruminated with nonsensical worry.

He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that one semi-successful hot spring session would fix things, but he had hoped that at least getting out of Konoha would ease her mind, as it had for him. She hadn’t gotten out of bed that day. He tried to assure her it was fine and perfectly acceptable for her to sleep on and off and be lazy for once.

The next day, she’d snuck out early in the morning and he’d woken up to a jittery Naruto on her second cup of coffee, ear pressed against the radio and listening to the international news broadcast about some skirmish between Iwagakure and Yukigakure at the border. Turning it off and trying to convince her that yes, this did count as work, and was probably going to make her more anxious, had led to an argument more heated than it needed to be. He’d hoped that maybe she’d want to go to another hot spring, or tour the tropical gardens in Yugakure, but she’d stubbornly ignored him for most of the day, awkwardly apologized by dinner. Going to the hot springs again was off the table apparently, but he’d been able to coax her out of the room with the promise of ramen from a nearby stall specializing in tsukemen.

This night, she’d actually fallen asleep at some point in the early hours of the night. He doesn’t know if it was her brain finally slowing down, or from sheer exhaustion, but at least it happened. But he wasn’t too keen on repeating yesterday, slipping out of their room to get something warm to drink after seeing she’d chugged the rest of the water sometime in the middle of the night.

When he came back into their room, two steaming cups of green tea in hand, Naruto was awake; laying in bed with her arms above her head, her wild mane across the pillow while she blearily stared at the ceiling.

“Did you get any coffee?” she asks, voice hoarse from sleep.

“No. It’s green tea.”

“Ugh, that’s not going to wake me up enough to be productive.”

He frowned, jaw tight as he considered how hard he was going to chew her out when half of their argument yesterday was about her obsession with productivity, but then she blinked. Her face twisted into a grimace, moving her bandaged arm to shield it over her eyes.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” she mumbles.

“Hn. I was just about to say—”

“—Yeah, yeah.”  

He sets the tea cups down at the chabudai next to the window, moving the curtains back to reveal the vibrant tropical gardens of the ryokan, blooming under the early morning light, before sitting down. You could see the steam from the hot springs rising behind the private bamboo walls.

“Rest is not a reward. It’s a necessity, idiot.”

He used to think her relentless work ethic stemmed from a desperate need to catch up with him, and the constant threat of the Akatsuki hunting her. But now, he’s convinced it started earlier, perhaps even before she entered the academy. Whatever unspoken horror she endured as a child weighed heavily on his mind—how does a child hated by an entire village realistically feel safety? Reflecting on those days, he’s certain Naruto’s oversleeping started around the time they became Genin.

“Whatever. Anyway, I’m telling you. I’m still going to be sleepy after drinking tea. Not after I’ve been drinking coffee mixed with matcha for the past few days.”

He gapes at her, eyebrows raising in disbelief, before groaning and rolling his eyes. No wonder she’s been so frazzled in the mornings.

“All that chakra doesn't give you a free pass to jolt your system with that much caffeine first thing in the morning.”

She shrugs, completely unfazed by his scolding.

"Yeah, well, you didn't see me making sarcastic ass comments about your post-insomniac activities, now do you?"  

“You think I didn’t notice you shaking?”

She sits up to glare at him, but he ignores it, instead gesturing to the table.

“Come. Sit with me.”

It wasn’t really a question, or an invitation, for that matter.

Naruto holds his gaze, finally relenting by entangling herself from the plush sheets. Cautiously, she approaches him. Her eyes narrowed, tucking her oversized cotton sleep shirt into her loose boxer shorts, adorned with shuriken, before sitting down beside him. Her knee bumps into his while crossing her legs, but it was enough to let him know they were good.

 She takes a slow sip of the steaming tea.  

“This isn’t sencha, is it?”

“No, it's gyokuro.”

He sideways glanced at her as she took another, longer sip.

“Its good. Kind of sweet.”

He nods to himself, making a mental note for later. While Naruto drank green tea, it certainly wasn’t her favourite.

Speaking of the obsessive ways, he’d internally notarize all her quirks, likes, and dislikes…

“I bought you something,” he admits, reaching behind for the small paper bag he’d hidden the day before.

“What. When?” Naruto asks. Despite the incredulity of her tone, she looked intrigued, even setting her cup down and looking at him fully as he handed her the small gift.

“Yesterday.”

She peaked inside the bag only for her eyes to widen, looking back up at him in disbelief.

“Really? How did you know?”

He opted for a shrug.

When he’d been wandering the streets, he’d stumbled upon a local handmade soap shop. He’d recognized the label from what was stocked in their room, and how Naruto had liked the floral chamomile scent so much she had kept bringing her arm up to her nose to take a whiff.

He's a little surprised as her face twists into a mask of upset, her brow furrowing and lips tightening.

“Sasuke, honestly, sometimes I don’t know why you bother.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, voice cold and steady despite the sharp pang of hurt twisting in his gut.

“Like…you’re just so wonderful?” she explains, waving her hand at him and his heart is beating so hard in his chest he feels like he’s going to have a heart attack from the whiplash. “I’m not good at this stuff—at all—and I’m being a bitch, just rotting in our ryokan, while you’re out here buying me presents like what the fuck? You think I’d get used to it by now, but I just—”

She finally looks at him and must have realized the absolute garbage she was spewing because her face crumples in shame.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. Why does everything I say sound fucking wrong? Ugh, I just—”

“—Shut up. Naruto. And for Kami’s sake, stop apologizing for everything.”

She bit her lip, her eyes darting nervously, a visible tension tightening her shoulders as he watched her retreat into herself. He wasn’t just about to let a repeat of yesterday’s stupid arguments and frustration repeat themselves.

“I did it because I love you, idiot. It’s that simple.”

Those devastating azure eyes finally found his again, welling with emotion and he prepares himself for the crash of the ocean wave. He knows he doesn’t say the words as often as he should. Can tell just by how surprised she looks at this statement, just like she had a week or so ago. Given the recent severity of her insecurity, and his own guilt-fuelled anxiety of his part in it, he needs her to know—no matter how exposed it made him feel. He could do that for her.

Besides, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Naruto to look at him like that. Sasuke could stare into her misting blue eyes for hours, mesmerized by their depth, and would willingly drown in them if it meant she'd look back a little longer.

One of her calloused hands reaches out to cup his cheek, stroking his skin with her thumb before leaning in to brush a tender kiss against the corner of his lips. The warmth of her tea-tinged breath filled his lungs as she pressed another gentle peck against his cheek. He turns so that their lips can finally meet in a slow kiss, and then another, and another. Their lips linger against each other’s in unhurried, deliberate movements as he firmly took her hand from his face, pulling it around his neck, tugging her even closer. Sasuke’s eyes drifted close of their own volition, the tension draining from his body with each leisurely press. 

Sighing, Naruto pulled back a little, then rested her cheek on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck as she sagged against him, burying her nose in his soft nape. He hugged her back tightly, inhaling her familiar scent of musky jasmine. He just takes a moment to hold her, enjoying the quiet moment. It's when they’re like this that he understands her best.

“Come on,” he mutters after a few minutes, rubbing her back in circles and urging her to show her face. “We’ll finish our tea and go for breakfast. Then we can do whatever. If you want to sleep, then sleep. If not, maybe we can go for a walk.”

She nods against him, reluctant to relinquish her hold, fingers smoothing down his arms until they find his own, tangling them together. Her cheeks were rosy and warm when she pulls away, holding both his hands tightly. Naruto's gaze was stubbornly rooted to his chin despite reverently rubbing the ring on his finger.

“Thank you for buying me the super nice smelling soap. I love it. I’m gonna use the fuck out if it. You’re extremely thoughtful and I hate it.”

He can’t help but smile at her stubborn pout. She didn’t even know how stupidly charming she looked.

“You’re welcome, usuratonkatchi. You gonna throw a fit every time I buy you a gift now?”

“Maybe.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Sasuke, there’s literally no challenge in a race you’re already winning.”  
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Later in the early evening, they’d already turned in for the night, lounging in bed. Naruto was watching some type of anime on low volume, laying on her side and twisting a bit awkwardly so she could still see the TV, her head nestled against his chest and arm slung over his abdomen. Sasuke didn’t mind, sitting against the headboard while finishing up his most recent book. He firmly wrapped his other arm around her, fingers absentmindedly stroking the skin on her shoulder through her cotton sleep shirt.

The rhythmic chirping of crickets blended with the whoosh of steam from the nearby onsen, punctuated only by the quiet chatter of tourists on the streets. The warm, fiery glow of the sunset spilled into their room, casting orange shadows as its light filtered through the white curtains. They stirred lazily from the warm wind, carrying the faint scent of hinoki cypress.

“Naruto, move over a bit,” he mutters, the prickling sensation of his leg falling asleep a bit too distracting at this point.

At her silence Sasuke nudges her again, only to be met with no response. Sighing, he closes his book, craning his head and looks down at her, only to realize she’s asleep. He can’t resist, affectionately smoothing some of her messy bangs from her face as fondness spreads through him.

One step at a time. 

Chapter Text

Naruto was never good at falling asleep in a new location.

Neither was Sasuke for the record, but he had long since mastered the art of laying down and allowing his body to rest by just forcing it to stay still. She never could. Tossing, and turning, re-awakening at every small squeak, creek, and thud as if the moment she’d fall asleep something would jump out. Worse than usual, that is. It’s why she always took first watch on missions.

Sometimes, on those terribly restless nights, she’d just lay there staring at Sasuke, tracing his features for hours until he’d waspishly swat her away. She couldn’t help it—still somewhat in disbelief that he was actually here, with her, and not off in some faraway place as a ronin, an underground crime lord, or assassin, or something. You’d think after so many years, she’d have gotten used to it, but she’s still in awe that he allows her to get close enough to touch him like this.

But this time, she doesn’t even think it was her own shitty insomnia messing things up.

It was hot. Not how Yugakure was with its wispy steam, clean sheets, and warm breezes. They arrived at the hotel late into the evening, and even in the dark, the humidity stuck to her skin in a thin layer that she couldn’t scratch off in the shower. The room wasn’t as cozy as their previous ryokan had been. There were no tatami mats, just hard sugi floors. The sheets were short and flimsy—Sasuke forgoing them altogether while she’d woken up tangled. It was probably easier to clean sand off them this way, but it made it so that every footstep was audible. That is, if it wasn’t drowned out by the roaring air conditioning unit that had even made Sasuke’s eye twitch in annoyance.

And there was something that unsettled her about the beachside hotel they were staying at for the next stop in their impromptu vacation. The seaside town of Katsurahama in the Land of Lightning was a day’s walk from Kumogakure and was popular with vacationing shinobi from across the continent. It was on the same sandy shores that Choji and Karui had stayed at, albeit at a posher resort than the private, low-profile places Sasuke preferred.

Naruto couldn't tell if it was her, her ridiculously anxiety, the oppressive heat, or the unsettling energy of the room. Finally, after all her restive fidgeting, huffing, and frustrated attempts of detangling and readjusting the sheets, Sasuke landed a firm kick against her spine, unceremoniously knocking her out of the bed and sprawling onto the floor with a cranky hiss of “go for a goddamn walk or something, usuratonkatchi.”

She supposed Sasuke’s thinly worn patience from this past month had finally reached its limit. So, she had grabbed a loose t-shirt and some running shorts, heading toward the beach.

Their hotel was right next to the sea. In the hushed, dark quiet on the brink of dawn, Naruto found herself walking closer and closer to the water, as if called to the dark ocean itself. She walks against the wash of water where the sand was densest. The crisp air was salty and warm, mixed with pine and bamboo from the forests crawling up the mountains—breathing it into her lungs made her feel far more relaxed than the cold, sanitized air in their room. She hadn’t even realized how far she’d walked, until she glances back at the hotel, seeing nothing but a miniaturized spec on the brightening horizon. 

She sits down, leaning back on her palms with her knees bent. A sense of detachment washes over her as she tore her eyes away from the dark, swirling blue of the ocean, instead hanging it onto the looming mountains, their sharp peaks shrouded in a thick curtain of low clouds. The sand was soft and puffy under her feet—nothing like the coarse sand of the Land of Mist or the jagged, rocky edges back home in the Land of Fire. The surreal sight was absolutely breathtaking.  

She thinks she’s starting to feel a bit better, but she honestly doesn’t know.

A month ago, it felt like a dark, damp cloud had enveloped her in a constant state of gloom; its heavy dreariness clinging to her with a persistent rain that obscured everything. Now, she feels like her head is at least above the water and she can tread with some good days and bad, depending on the force of the wave. She’s not always sure when she sinks under unless she chokes. She’s extremely grateful for Sasuke’s consistent and stubborn reassurance and tries not to let the guilt eat her alive. The blonde couldn’t even tell you where this all started, even when they’ve been together for years. Their dynamic always felt balanced and natural. She never cared what people thought of them and was just happy they were together—that he had healed from all the awful shit in his life.

The pastel blues pushed back the dark night with burnt orange sky, a warm wind picking up and pushing her mop of hair out from her face like a warm caress. She could hear the leaves and pine needles from the forest behind her rustling together, birds chirping as they awakened. She thinks it was going to rain soon—given that the speed of those low-hanging clouds from earlier seeping in. Killer Bee had always said that as beautiful and picturesque as the Land of Lightning was, the high jagged mountains created micro-climates and the weather was capricious. It would probably pass quickly, but with the wind becoming stronger, all she could think of was how badly she wanted to go into the water.

She’d always been drawn to the ocean—liked the feeling of being fully enveloped and consumed by something that never wanted to let you go. It didn’t terrify her like it did Sakura or Kiba, who preferred dry, solid land. It was one of the few places where she felt like she wasn’t being watched with the water distorting her body from judgement. At one point, the idea of drowning didn’t even scare her anymore. It felt like relief.

Gentle drops on her skin interrupted her sleepy musings. Looking up, it seemed like there were barely any clouds above her, and yet it seemed like the rain was already beginning. The swirling sky above the cerulean water had a few bright rays of dawn breaking through. What if she just—

Naruto suddenly pulls her shirt off, throwing it carelessly into the sand before shedding her shorts. Clad in nothing but her dark blue panties, she barrelled toward the water—stopping when the waves crashed against her toes. She didn't know why she was surprised that the water was actually warm.

The waves swelled, crashing with increasing force, while the warm wind now howling in her ears. Nothing too serious, but far from the gentle ripples a few minutes ago. If the weather became worse, she had more than enough chakra to save herself, she rationalized, walking in deeper and deeper. And if things got terrible, she'd draw on Kurama, who had been suspiciously quiet for weeks now. She felt a tinge of chakra in her left hand but ignores it, mesmerized by the roaring waves crashing against her legs, the salty, misting spray sprinkling onto her face.

Once the water was up to her breasts, the clouds finally hung overhead—rain beginning to pour down in an almost lethargic way that drummed against her forehead rhythmically. She looks back, the concealed mountains from earlier bursting with vibrantly green trees. The rain fell against her face, slowly becoming torrential, waves rocking her. It was hard to see the sun through the haze, and yet she just felt more alive than she had in a long time.

Possessed by the water's heavy embrace, she inhales deeply and dives toward the sandy ocean floor, propelling herself forward. She didn't dare open her eyes though—knowing they'd burn from the briny water—but nonetheless pushing forward. She broke for air with a gasp; the rain was softer but still coming down hard. She was comfortably standing in the watery sand, jumping up to the rhythm of the enormous waves, making sure she wasn’t too far away from the shore.

It was exactly as Bee had said—as quickly as it had started; it was almost over—waves keeping their height but the rain dying down into soft drizzle. What if she swam in deeper? She didn't think there were any sharks, but maybe if she chased the sun, she could use her chakra to run back against the choppy waters before—

“Naruto!!”

And like that, the spell over her broke.

She whips around to see Sasuke standing at the shore—his face twisted in worry.

“What?!” she yells back, abruptly feeling self-conscious, sinking until her shoulders were barley sticking out above the water.

“What the hell are you doing in the fucking ocean when a storm is rolling in!” he roars back.

She levels him with a raised eyebrow, although she wasn’t even sure he could see it from this distance. She wouldn't go so far as to call a little rain a storm…

“It's almost over!” she hollers back. “In fact, it's rolling out—come here!” she impulsively added. 

Shockingly, Sasuke viciously tore his black shirt off, leaving his shorts on and she couldn't help but catcall at the miraculous sight just to see his livid expression, and oh, he looks super pissed—stalking toward her slowly, not even letting the crash of the wave stop his pace.

She'd be the first to admit that sometimes she riles him up on purpose—his muscles always got taunt and perky when he’d flex them angrily, jet black hair always swooping over his eyes in a stupidly dramatic way that shouldn't be as attractive as it was. Maybe after so many fist fights, she could tell the different between his moods, and the type of anger he was currently sporting wasn’t anything she'd need to worry about. Yet.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” he spat once the water reached his solar plexus.

“I just feel energetic,” she shrugs, turning towards the warmth of the sun again, stretching her hands out towards it. “What if I just blasted all this water away with my wind and made a monsoon?”

“And terrorize the local population with a natural disaster? How about no?”

“Ugh, you're so boring, teme. Absolutely zero imagination.”

When she turned to look at him, her breath hitched. She couldn't help but fall in love with him all over again.

The water lapped at his hair, softening his unruly spikes, and his usually raven-coloured hair looked like a dark blue ink spill. His pale skin, warmed by the early morning sun, glowed faintly behind her; his muscular chest and broad shoulders stood out sharply against the vibrant green of the distant mountains. It was only in times like this, where his dark, obsidian eye was illuminated enough that she could actually see his pupil—his iris looking more like a deep chocolate than a soulless black, overwhelmingly filled with concern.

He reaches out slowly, fingers grazing her cheek before cupping it fully. She inadvertently moved closer when his thumb pressed against her bottom lip.

“Let's go. You're freezing, and your lips are literally blue.”

Ignoring him, she pulls him closer by his forearm until their heads press together and their noses slot against each other. She almost feels drunk in his presence, able to smell nothing other than the musky scent of his yuzu and cedar-tinged skin mixed with salt. His lips met hers, and her eyes fluttered closed at the unexpected sweetness of his kiss. She greedily drank him in as he deepened their kissing with a lazy grace, a warmth spreading through her as she cupped both his cheeks, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. His own hands drop from her cheek to her ribs, calloused fingers digging into her when a particularly harsh wave crashed against them. She had been so engrossed by him that she hadn't even realized he had been sneakily pushing her toward the shore until she stumbled from moving backwards.

“Hey!” she protests, pulling away. “That's cheating!”

He only hummed in response, at this point, fully pushing her. “Is it though?”

“Yes!”

He stops, raising an eyebrow at her.

“You good?” he asks cautiously.

She looked back at the water longingly—brilliant blue dominating the sky the higher the sun rose.

“I just…I don’t know. I just felt compelled to go into it. It just made me feel…like myself, ya’know?”

A heavy silence hung in the air as Sasuke stared at her, his gaze unwavering, but she felt a growing sense of understanding pass between them. She still couldn’t fully voice the odd swirl of contradicting feels, frustration for the more anxious thoughts she knew were illogical, and that she was learning to be herself again.

He then blinked—turning his head to stare at the ocean suspiciously.

“Sounds like you heard the siren call of an umibozu.”

She wrinkles her nose. “You don't believe in ghosts.”

“No. But I didn't believe in alien gods either until—!”

A wave surges overhead, causing them to lose their balance and drags them into its undertow.

In typical Uchiha fashion, Sasuke knocked into her, gracefully catching himself on his hands instead of face-planting into the ground. He loomed over her while her back crashed—hard—against the shallow bank. Both stared at each other in vague shock.

Not able to help herself, she burst out laughing at his stunned expression.

“You look like a drowned cat!”

“At least I can actually catch myself from a little fall, idiot.”

“Because you sacrificed me to save yourself!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves off, pushing himself up and wiping the invisible sand off his soaked shorts. He walks back toward the shore with a simple, “come on, usuratonkatchi,” trailing behind him.

With a sigh, she props herself up on her elbows, firmly lounging in the sand, the foamy retreating waves washing between her legs as she takes one last look at the ocean. The sun disbanding the last remnants of the storm with its golden rays, bathing the ocean in its calm light—almost as if it had never been there to begin with. Naruto doesn’t know if she’s survived the worst of the undertow yet, but she knows that just as the tempest had been chased away by the eventual daybreak, Sasuke, like always, is the lifeline that keeps her tethered.

“Naruto!”

“Kami, you're so fucking needy,” she grumbles, finally heaving herself up and walking over to Sasuke, who stood over her drenched clothes. She suspected as much. Figured she'd just sneak into their hotel room quickly or use a henge. Maybe Sasuke would be feeling generous and would use his Rinnegan to teleport them there quickly.

As she contemplates what to do, she realizes Sasuke was fully glaring at her chest as if it had personally offended him. Feeling self-conscious, she covers her breasts with her arm. His eyes only narrowed further.

“What?”

Wordlessly, he hurled his slightly drier shirt at her. She doesn’t say as she puts it on obediently, grateful for the covering.

“Are we gonna walk back, or?” she trails off awkwardly.

He was still glaring at her chest.

“You got a problem or something, teme?” she hisses, only for his dark eyes to dart up, staring at her sharply. She tries not to writhe, the intensity of his eyes making her uneasy.

“We obviously can’t just walk back.”

“Why not?”

He points toward her breasts. 

“Your tits are still sticking out through the shirt, moron.”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Are they?” she murmurs anxiously, looking down to see the feint outline of her cold nipples sticking out and denting the wet fabric, immediately feeling uncomfortable.

She clasped both hands over her breasts, eyes wide.

“Fuck me, okay. It’s not so bad,” she frantically explains, eyes darting around until they landed on her soaked pile of clothes. “Wait,” she reached out to grab her sopping shirt. “It’s fine. I can just put another shirt on top.”

“No idiot,” he sneers, yanking the wet shirt away from her. “You hate people staring at your body—let alone your breasts. That’s why we can’t walk back.”

“Oh. You’re not like…I don’t know, offended or something?”

“Why the fuck would I be offended by your body?”

“You’re acting offended.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You were glaring at my boobs, bastard. Like the sight of them pissed you off or something.”

In a sudden fit of fury, Sasuke wrenches her, fingers fisting the damp fabric.

“I’m trying to be considerate,” he hisses in her face. She swore she could smell wood smoke on his breath, as if he were about to breathe fire. “Since you despise showing off your body. The fact that you’re really fucking dense about the way people stare at you, is another thing.”

“I’m not dense about the fact that people stare at me—”

“—Yeah, you are.”

“No, I’m not—!”

“Naruto. I don’t know how many fucking times I need to tell you. People stare at you because they think you’re attractive. Not whatever weird fucking reason you cooked up in your head. You may not believe it, but it doesn’t make it less true.”

Sasuke’s intense, unblinking gaze makes her squirm. It always did, when he was so forward and blunt with his thoughts. She doesn’t know how to explain that a lifetime of being stared at as a freak makes any type of stare uncomfortable and suspicious. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to someone as beautiful as Sasuke thinking she was remotely pretty, even though he’d always been jealous over what he considered his. It was hard to, considering the others in their cohort—she took care of her skin, but it never glowed like Sakura and Hinata’s did. Her sense of style was never as cool as Temari, Kiba, or Tenten’s. Her hair would never be as gorgeous or well-kept as Neji or Ino’s, and she didn’t know if she’d ever have the confidence to show off her curves like Ino did. She preferred to spend her time at the shinobi chakra-less gym or the training field, making her, without a doubt, the most muscular and probably the most flexible, considering all the calisthenic poses she and Lee had been working on, or how she and Sasuke still had a competitive streak that made their sparring sessions gruelling and difficult. But she supposed she had at least one asset they didn’t.

“You’re just jealous someone might stare at my boobs,” she eventually mumbles.

“Yes, obviously,” he responds dryly, without hesitation.

She can’t help but huff out a snort.

“That’s why I have this,” she tries to joke, raising her left hand and wiggling her fingers. “It’s a pretty good deterrent.”

Sasuke didn’t say anything, seizing her hand and pulling for forward with a tight grip; a surge of chakra propelled them forward, flickering with a burst of blue light, until they were standing in front of their hotel door. Sasuke’s incredible speed and range with his Rinnegan-enhanced Body Flicker Technique always surprised her. She supposed it was more subtle and less chakra intensive than carving a direct wormhole into their room, but regardless, she was appreciative that even after the dramatics, they could quietly return to their room.

Just as she was about to step out of the genkan, he hauls her back by her shirt—again—finger firmly pointed at the bathroom door.

“Shower. Before you get sand everywhere.”

“Ugh, fine.”

The soggy clothes she was wearing were chafing against her skin, anyway.

He followed her diligently into the bathroom, turning on the water before endearingly crinkling his nose at the gritty salt tugging at his skin, peeling off his shorts and boxers with vague disgust. He was too stubborn to say anything, glaring pointedly at her shit-eating grin, before walking under the weak spray of water. She shook her head, shedding her own uncomfortable, heavy clothing and leaving them in a wet heap on the floor, following him in suit.

“Fuck, even the shower pressure here sucks,” she grumbles in annoyance.

He pauses his shampooing, the soapy lather dripping down the sides of his face and looks up.

“The more you complain, the longer it will take.”

“Yeah, good luck washing the sand out of your ass with this pathetic stream of water.”

Wordlessly, Sasuke pulled the detachable showerhead off the wall and sprayed her in the face.
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.
Naruto sat at the table, wet hair thrown up into a bun as she sipped her warm green tea.

“You’re sure this is genmaicha? It doesn’t taste as grassy as genmaicha usually does.”

Sasuke shrugs, damp, clean hair pushed back from his face, for once showing off both his mismatched eyes. He fluffed the duvet on their unmade bed, re-arranging the pillows to tidy it up.

“It’s a higher-end brand I got in Yugakure, not the cheap stuff restaurants brew on the fly. Do you like it?”

“It’s kind of nutty.”

“That’s from the toasted rice.”

She looks out the balcony window. As the beach began filling with vacationers, a gentle breeze ruffles through the colourful wave of umbrellas, finally dispelling some of the awful humidity. Their freshly washed clothes, still damp, hung heavy on the railing, and she hopes they wouldn’t blow away with a sudden gust as they dried. She should probably secure them in place sooner rather than later. She looks back at Sasuke, keeping busy as he smoothed out the final wrinkles of the bedspread and moved onto their things. Even in a hotel room, he had to meticulously arrange his belongings, ensuring everything had a place, and the space felt orderly. Especially their ninja scrolls and weapons that always had to be placed strategically in a room. She knew he wouldn’t really relax until he finished.

“Will you go walk on the beach with me later? Maybe at sunset?”

He looks over his shoulder, smiling shyly.

“Sure.”
.

.

.
Naruto had felt exhausted in the evening, settled in bed while Sasuke had shoved a pillow behind his back, reading. The blonde knew he'd been hunched over his book about varieties of sealing jutsu techniques since last week, determined to finish it tonight, so she had turned to her side, avoiding the glare of the lamp while his nimble fingers soothingly traced light patterns in her skin. She tried to stay lucid, patiently waiting to ask him about an intrusive thought she’d gotten earlier in the day. She tried hard to shove it down, but it stayed present in her mind—a wave of unease washing over her, even though everything had been fine.

Despite the chaotic start, the day unfolded lazily, with clothes washing, unpacking, beach strolling, and a late dinner. Nothing bad had happened. There was no reason to have this stupid fucking thought, but she wanted to tell him—especially after he’d made it explicitly clear that no matter how awful it was, he wanted to know what these insane thoughts in her head were.

It felt like forever had passed when he finally closed his book, flicked the light off, and settled next to her, shoving his arm underneath his pillow with his back to her. Mustering courage in the oppressive darkness, she finally turned over to face him, the question burning in her mind for hours, finally escaping her lips.

“Sasuke, do you think I’m a broken person?”

The silence was deafening.

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, grumbling something under his breath, but nonetheless turning on his side toward her.

“Why do you think that?” he challenges.

“Because I’m not—” she bit her lip, stopping herself to take a deep inhale. “Because I’ve never been like this before. And I don’t know how to get back to the person I was.”

Sasuke remained silent, a brooding stillness about him, clearly thinking about what to say. A knot of tension remained coiled in her chest—only unwinding when he slowly draped a comforting arm over her waist.

After a moment, he resumed speaking.

“Change isn’t always bad. And these feelings you have…I think it would have probably come out, eventually. It was just a matter of when.”

“That's…really? Why?”

“Because you're a person who's experienced an insane amount of trauma and was never given the proper support or tools to deal with it, and the coping mechanisms you developed suddenly stopped working.”

She nods to herself. It stung, in a sense. That she couldn’t bounce back from these bouts of sadness as easily as she had before. That Sasuke had clearly methodically analyzed the situation and had come to a conclusion that she still didn’t want to fully acknowledge.

“What if I…what if I never start to feel better?”

His hand raised to cup her round cheek, thumb stroking her skin before pressing a slow, baptismal kiss against her forehead.

“You will,” he murmurs, lips resting there. “If I could, so can you.”

“You sure?”

She felt his smile more than she heard it.

“Yeah. I believe in you, idiot.”

She tugs him closer, Sasuke willingly flopping on top of her, head resting against her shoulder. The raven was heavy as hell, nothing but long limbs and muscle, but the weight had always made her feel calm. Especially with the eternal warmth that always seemed to radiate off his skin, even after he’d cranked the air conditioning to a frigid temperature.  

“I know it’s hard,” his voice was a soft, low tone. “But at least try to get some sleep.”

She didn’t know if she could, or if she would have another nightmare, but for him, she would try.

Chapter Text

Naruto shouldn’t be surprised that Sasuke refused to go in the water.

After yesterday, he’d taken one look, sneered, and returned to his new book—some historical nonfiction about samurai in the Land of Iron he’d picked up in Yugakure. Despite the beach umbrella they’d rented, he refused to sit under it. Instead, stretching his long, toned body across a beach chair covered in a flimsy blue stripped towel, with sunglasses of all things, covering his mismatched eyes.

She never understood how Sasuke could remain so damn pale when he practically worshipped the sun. He basked in the early morning light, never got irritated on the warmest of days, despite his internal furnace; and made sure all their curtains would remain open during the heat of the high noon sun. She used to think it was a fire release thing, but now she wasn’t so sure. Sasuke had once told her that once he’d been able to use the fireball jutsu, his father started instilling in him the practice to meditate at sunrise alongside Itachi, claiming it helped charge an Uchiha’s fire. He’d kept up the habit ever since.

His sticky black bangs were pushed back, revealing his handsome features; the hardcover book held in front of his face. The gleaming gold ring that sparkled when the light hit it right was the only real deterrent to wandering and curious eyes. Well, that, and Sasuke's infamous aloofness and stinging glare that seemed to crackle with the promise of his lightning release, making him all the more menacing, especially when it’d be directed at her.

The farther Naruto swam from shore, the lower Sasuke’s book sank, uncannily reminiscent of Kakashi sensei’s treatment of them as Genin—making her feel less like an adult and more like a child under constant supervision. She’d cheekily waved at him at some point, silently calling out his patronizing attitude. He’d only flipped her off in response, remaining firmly rooted in his seat. He was probably anxious as the salty waves crashed against the shore, growing larger with each passing moment, and she’d purposefully swim underwater against the sand, the grit stinging her eyes, until her lungs burned and forced her to resurface, gasping for air.

She just couldn’t help it. It’s not like he was going to chill with her, or throw a ball, or something. Besides, she’d slept terribly, again. She’s worried that another few bad rounds of sleep were going to trigger nightmares for her again and was trying desperately not to work herself up over it. Sinking into the buoyant water made her feel supported. Like she could actually relax and let her body go limp the way she couldn’t make it go in bed. With how irritatingly hot it was and the lack of a breeze, the warm water felt surprisingly refreshing, especially near the ocean floor where the light barely penetrated. There was also the added bonus of fewer people out this way, helping to hide the new bathing suit she had to buy this morning after sheepishly telling Sasuke she’d forgotten to pack one.

He’d instantly seen through her lie but hadn’t pushed—probably guessing the reason, as he always did. She had thrown out all her two-pieces a few years ago, and the old one-piece she had was too small. It had squeezed her tits so tight they’d almost spilled out—she looked like the hyper-feminized version of her oiroke jutsu making her vomit in her mouth. She had been able to quickly find a navy long-sleeved zip-up top with high-rise bottoms at a stall that morning, and although it lacked supportive cups, it was padded. And this way, she didn’t need to wrap her arm with bandages, which she knew would have looked both stupid and suspicious at a shinobi-filled beach.

She had actually liked it. Didn’t even mind the way she looked in it and didn’t even need to shave since the bottoms weren’t too high cut. She had felt comfortable—until she realized just how out of place she looked, with Sasuke’s beach shorts riding up his thick thighs and everyone else’s normal—revealing—bathing suits.

She knew she couldn’t hide in the water forever, and with her growling stomach only growing louder, she reluctantly made her way back to shore.

“Finally had enough?” Sasuke drawls, his voice a low rumble as she sits down beside him, making sure she’s under the shade of the umbrella, the coolness a welcome relief from the midday sun.

Sasuke didn’t look up from his book, but when she pressed her cool leg next to his, his hand instinctively found its way to her thigh. She’s been increasingly aware of his recent habit of touching her in public—a lingering hand on her arm, subtle fingers tracing patterns on her skin, always ensuring some kind of physical contact. He used to be just as opposed to it as she was, preferring to showcase his possessiveness in other ways.

“Yeah, look at my hands,” she presents her wrinkled palm face up, wiggling her wet digits in his face. “And I got hungry.”

“Gross,” he mutters, pushing her offending limb away. “And quit that. You’re gonna get water all over my book.”

She rolls her eyes at his prudishness, squeezing the excess water out of her braid while eyeing the colourful food stalls near the pier. The aromas wafting from them mingled in the salty air, and her hunger grew tenfold.

“Want some kakigori?”

“Why don’t you get some proper food? Looks like there’s a shioyaki stall.”

“It’s too fucking hot for real food,” she laments, cupping her hands around her eyes to shield them as she tries to see if there’s anything else beyond fried fish, roasted dumplings, and shaved ice.

“And there’s that somen noodle restaurant near the hotel. But if I go, there’s no way I’m coming back here to cook in this hellscape.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Says you.”

“You’re the one wearing a thick wetsuit.” 

“Do you want kakigori or not?”

“Hn, sure. But only if they have tea or melon.” 

“You say that like I don’t know what you’ll actually eat.”

Fishing out her trusty Gama-chan, she made her way to the stall as fast as possible—the radiating heat of the sun beating down on her head making her dizzy enough that she wishes she bought a hat too, or put on some kind of bandana, or used a personal umbrella.

It was so unfair that Sasuke, with his thick, jet-black head of hair, could tolerate heat and cold without a problem. Even more so, that he looked so effortlessly beautiful with the light glinting off his stupid, ebony hair, making it look glossy instead of sweaty. His long legs were sprawled apart and subtly flexed, showing off the taunt muscles of his thick thighs faintly marked with faded pink scars. If she wasn’t juggling her wallet and the two rapidly melting shaved ices, she would have zipped up her top higher. Instead, she was quickly stumbling through the hot sand like a newborn giraffe, ignoring the annoyed stares of onlookers and disappointed looks from admirers when she flopped down beside him. The sticky sweetness of the kakigori uncomfortably dripped down her arm, right underneath the wet sleeve, which was a pain. If it hadn’t actually melted so fast, she would have pressed the cold cup against her flushed face for some temporary relief.

“Here. Green melon, just as requested.”

Finally, he closes his book, setting it between his legs on the chair, a hand returning to her thigh as he takes his serving—eyebrows furrowing exasperatedly at the stickiness of the cup.

“Did you get any napkins?”

“Ugh fuck. I didn’t, ‘cause I didn’t think it’d overflow this quickly.”

“Hn. It’s fine. We can wash it off in the water.”

“Wow. You’re actually going to touch the ocean? Without hissing at it?”

The annoyed look he threw at her was more cute than scary.

As they ate quietly, she looked back onto the glimmering ocean, the high noon sun reflecting blindingly off the water's surface, the crash of the waves a soothing hush against the silence.

“Why’d you choose a book about the Land of Iron?” she can’t help but ask.

When he’d been reading his last book about sealing techniques, he’d almost wanted to keep it a secret, as if self-conscious that sealing jutsu was the one area she was more naturally talented in. He’d ended up asking her questions anyway, especially about anything to come up with the Uzumaki, but he’d been mostly silent about this one so far.

He shrugs, removing his hand to push a few rogue strands of sweaty bangs out of his face before it settled back on her knee.

“I wanted to understand how they channel chakra through their swords, and what happened to kekkei genkai users—if they even discovered their abilities.”

“Nerd.”

He pinches her lightly, and she can’t help but snort at the attempt.

“Well, one of us needs to actually understand the details of the continent when you’re Hokage.”

“I mean,” she continues cheekily. “It’s not like we can ever go there. You’d be arrested on the spot if we ever cross the border.”

“Not so fucking loud, idiot,” he hisses, eyes darting to some Kumo shinobi in uniform patrolling near the stalls.

“You say that like we weren’t spotted a couple of hours ago.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to say that shit out loud. Every other person here is a shinobi.”

“Don’t remind me,” she frowns down at her mango shaved ice, picking at it irritably before shovelling the rest of it down—ignoring the freezing burn against her teeth—and chugging the melted liquid.

She shouldn’t have said that. Sasuke’s incarceration was a touchy subject in private, let alone in public. Her previous unease intensified when she unsettlingly realized she was more recognizable than he was. As her bathing suit dries, and the heat settles in, her skin itches with the soft rivets of salt embedded into it. As if carving unseen rivers that tug whenever she shifts, reminding her of how much she sometimes wishes she could rip out of her own body and leave it as a husk on the ground. 

With a sharp yank, Sasuke tugs her in close, startling her enough that her empty cup drops into the sand.

“For Kami’s sake, teme—!”

“Stop that,” he hisses lowly, loud enough only for her to hear.

“The fuck? Stop what?”

“I can hear your brain starting to spiral. You’re going to give yourself an anxiety attack.”

“Fuck you.”

“I can guarantee people aren’t staring at you as much as you think they are.”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? It’s not just that it's—”

Naruto grabs onto his wrist, squeezing hard, but her stubborn partner refuses to let go. It was easier to look at him through the dark-tinted glasses; the shadows obscuring the intensity of his inquisitive eyes.

“Then what else?” 

“If you think I’m doing this with you here, you can go fuck yourself.”

Sasuke surprises her with a pause. Although judging by the sharp arch of his brows, she knows he was scrutinizing her. She’s just on the verge of telling to wait until they were in private, as she’s been working up the nerve to be fully honest with him for weeks, when he asks her another question.

“Is it really the weather?”

She blinks. She…wasn’t expecting that. It seems like an odd question, but as she focuses on the surrounding beachgoers, she realizes Sasuke was right. No one was really paying attention to them.

“Maybe a little? I just…I feel uncomfortable. Okay?” 

“Then we can go back.”

“I’ll go back. Shower and maybe get something to eat like you said. I’ll get you takeout and put it in the fridge. You stay here.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Sasuke.”

“Naruto. Don’t overthink—”

“—You don’t need to babysit me, okay? You’re actually enjoying yourself, while I’m—”

“—I enjoy myself when I’m with you, usuratonkatchi.”

The blonde jinchuuriki stopped, chewing her lip as his words reverberated inside of her. Her fingers loosened their grip, thumb pressing against his wrist to feel his slow, steady heartbeat. She inhaled with each beat, trying to steady her breathing and quiet the noise in her head. She feels less frantic than she had a few moments ago, but she doesn’t actually think she feels all that better.

“Sorry for saying that thing about the Land of Iron out loud,” she mumbles awkwardly.

“All good,” he soothes, tugging on her zipper one last time before leaning back to actually eat his kakigori, more than half of it already pooling into melted sludge. She hadn’t even realized how little he’d eaten while she’d gobbled down hers.

“I still think I’m going to head back,” she confesses, gauging his reaction. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I feel uncomfortable. Most of it’s from this stupid itchy salt, and my sleeve is sticky.”

“Just give me a sec to—”

“—Sasuke. It’s fine. Finish your kakigori and whatever chapter you were on. I can return the umbrella since you’re not using it anyway, and just head back to use the shower first.”

He chewed on his tongue unhappily, surprising her as he pushed the sunglasses through his messy hair, staring her down with his unblinking, dark obsidian and swirling lavender eyes. She hated when he did that.

“You’re sure you’re not gonna do something stupid, like burn yourself in the shower? Or go drown yourself in the ocean like you were earlier?”

She knew he was fucking spying on her when she was far from shore. But beyond that, of course he’d figured it out. Like he always did.

“I’m melting in this blistering heat, dick.”

“Promise.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Promise me, Naruto.”

“You’re not my keeper.”

Condescendingly lifting his sharp eyebrow, he simultaneously raised his left hand, pointedly flashing his matching band as if to subtly mock her. 

“Yeah, I am. Forever. Until death. And then some, until I find you again.” 

“I’m not a child,” she corrects. She can’t tell if she’s blushing from his unapologetic declaration of devotion, masked as a vague threat, or on the verge of having a heat stroke.

“No. You’re an usuratonkatchi. Who thinks she can successfully sell this bullshit to me.”

“You act like you aren’t going to fucking follow me the moment I walk off this beach.”

“You’re right. So why don’t you wait for me and save us both the trouble.” 

“Eat your damn fucking ice, bastard. Before I shove it down your throat,” she hisses, standing up with her arms crossed over her chest. “While I go, alone.”

Sasuke leans back into the chair. She always found his silence more frightening than his outbursts; especially with his challenging gaze coupled with the slow, leisurely way he crossed his ankles together. His toned chest was puffed out and flexed with hard muscles, as if he were about to lunge at her.

“You’ve got a five-minute head start,” he promises, voice low and menacing. 

“Ten.”

“Three.”

Sasuke barely reacts to her bared teeth, continuing to eat his kakigori, deliberately and slowly taking another spoonful into his mouth, then, with a dramatic gesture, drawing the wooden utensil out, aiming it directly at her.

“That’s four-minutes left, dobe.”

“Gods you’re bossy.”

She snatches her bag of things quickly, throwing one final glare at his nonchalant expression, before leaving the umbrella and empty container to stomp back to the hotel in record time.

She makes her way to the shitty shower, quickly cranking the water on to the hottest setting, and waits for it to heat up. With a frown, she unzipped her heavy, wet bathing suit shirt, noticing the irritated salt-crusted skin that mirrored her mood, along with the telltale splotched signs of a blooming sunburn on her face and knees of all things.

The shower's intense heat created a thick, white cloud of steam; only then did she venture into the scalding spray, her body instantly enveloped in the familiar humid air. The burn’s warmth seeped into her limbs, melting away the tension, leaving her heavy with a pleasant relaxation. She hadn’t done this in a while—Sasuke always hated it—and just tried to finally drown in the thrumming weight of heat that temporarily freed her mind of noise. The burn always made her limbs feel heavy and relaxed, like she could finally focus on something else. The only other place that could replicate the feeling was an onsen, but after Yukigakure, she was craving the privacy.

Sometimes it reminded her of before she and Kurama were friends, and her skin would flake off and she could finally feel her sadness and rage, feel unified with it, without worrying just for a little bit and—

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, jerking her back and holding her securely in place while another pale arm reaches out to adjust the temperature down almost in half, making her shiver against him.

“—I knew you were going to boil yourself alive the moment I—”

“—the water wasn’t that hot. Now it’s fucking freezing and—”

“—Yeah, it fucking was. If you think I’m gonna let you rekindle this shitty habit of burning yourself again—”

“—as if you don’t burn me all the time—”

“—That’s different, and you know it.”

He holds on tightly, refusing to release his grip despite the rage radiating off him. She knows he’s disappointed, and she’s made him feel enough of that over the past few months.

Swallowing the thick saliva in her throat, she inhales. She promised herself she’d try to trust him with the stewed and rotted thoughts in her head, no matter how embarrassing it was to voice them.

“I do it…‘cause…it helps.”

“In what way? You’re giving yourself first-degree burns when you’re already sunburned, idiot.”

“I can’t feel it.”

“Can’t feel what, exactly?”

“My…the thoughts in my head. It’s like I can focus on the feeling of the water, and my skin feels new, and fresh, and clean, and it gets quiet. It reminds me of—”

She swears his arm tightens; his hard chest presses against her back like a steady anchor. He patiently waits for her response. She doesn’t even know how to describe this to him.

“Kurama and I…we’re friends now, so it’s all good. But before…I mean, you never saw me go past three tails.”

Naruto has talked about some of this with Sasuke. Especially when she’d told him about Nagato and the details of Konoha’s destruction. That when he’d seen her with three tails, she was still lucid, but after that everything would become a blur. Had never gone into detail with it, other than to prove she understood what it meant to be lost in hatred. Had laughed it off when he’d noticed the tiny, criss-crossed constellation of scars on her hands that no one else ever had. It had never really mattered, now that she and Kurama had synced their chakra together and the leak in her seal was no longer a problem.

“To…transform I guess, into that next form, Kurama’s chakra cloak would burn off my skin. I don’t know how I looked—I only know what Sakura and the others told me after—but the last thing I would remember is my skin peeling off and the Kyuubi chakra mixing with my blood. It just fucking hurt, but if I could endure it, everything else would just go numb. It was kind of…gods, this sounds fucked up. Sometimes it was…relieving to just…finally show how angry I really was. Let someone else steer, so it didn’t have to be me all the time actually doing something when everyone else was so fucking passive.”

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t his forehead knocking into the back of her head, nor the feather-light touch of him silently tracing the faint, barley noticeable scar across her chest from where his arm had once pierced a hole in her body just over a decade ago.

“It isn’t fucked up,” he murmurs into her hair, exhaling what sounded like a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad you told me. I wish—” he continues, limbs unwinding before long fingers pressed into her defined shoulders. “I wish I was there to validate you.”

She huffed out a laugh.

“In what? Becoming a bloodthirsty demon?”

“No.”

Sasuke’s fingers gently traced down the skin of her tan arms, giving a light squeeze at the soft bend of her elbows, pausing briefly at the edge of her prosthetic, before smoothing back up to her shoulders. His arms wrapped around her neck, nose nudging her ear as he spoke into her hair. 

“To reassure you that your anger is justified. And you deserve to be able to express it. I hate when everyone acts like you should just stifle it down and keep pushing without acknowledging all the harm they’ve done.”

“Even when I’d just…explode? Destroying and killing everything as an uncontrollable beast?”

“Always. How could you think otherwise, idiot?”

She shrugged, eyes firmly looked at the spray of water raining down in front of them.

“You did the same for me—”

“—That’s—different—because—”

“—Shut up. I didn’t finish, and you’re already fucking white-knighting for me,” he hisses through his teeth, arms tightening into a bruising hold.

 “It’s not different because we’re the same. You’re my other half. Of course I would support you through anything. What hurts you, hurts me, idiot.”

She froze, biting her trembling lip to control the emotional affection bleeding into her tired bones at the sincerity in his voice.

She didn’t think it was possible to love him even more, and yet the stinging of her swelling heart stretching against her ribcage proved otherwise. It used to feel like she would die—to be consumed by Sasuke’s unwavering devotion—and now it was like it was the warm blood that kept her body beating with life.  

When she turns to look at him properly, the raven’s arms remain resting on her shoulders, guard down, and hair pushed out of his face so she can see both of his eyes. They were uncharacteristically communicative, glistening as he unflinchingly stared directly into her own. It was so rare for her to read his expression well enough that she could see tinges of the same gleaming adoration in his lavender-ringed rinnegan.

Cradling his sharp cheek, she drew him in close when she inhaled, pressing a reverent kiss against his temple as she exhaled through her nose, trying to steady her pounding heart. Her partner was less patient, twisting until her lips met the thin skin of his eyelid and tugging her into a tight hug. His arms were firm in their hold, and she could feel the steady beat of his heartbeat against her soft chest, thumping against her own and urging it to follow his melody. She couldn’t help but slump against him, sliding her hands past his lithe waist and threading them together around the small of his back, the fight draining out of her almost instantly. Sasuke remained steadfast in supporting her weight, while heat radiated off his skin along with every puff of molten hot air exhaled against her neck kept her warm. The water drumming against her back didn’t even feel cold anymore, and the faint, smoky smell of yuzu and cedar soaked in his hair made her feel like she was home.

As he rubs his cheek against his own, Naruto swears she can feel the faintest prickle of his barely-there stubble, despite his clean-shaven appearance. It felt strangely cool against her heated skin, the odd burning sensation irritating her sunburn. Sasuke must feel it too because he pulls back, warm palms rubbing her shoulder blades as he plants a delicate, feathery kiss on her cheek. His eyes were closed, she noticed as he leaned in, pressing a slow, chaste kiss against her lips, before pressing his forehead against her own.

Intimacy between them used to feel like the incinerating fires of Amaterasu. A kind of itching, carnal need to mark, and claim, and prove that only ever got worse instead of better. She was a battle-hardened shinobi who refused to back down from any challenge, especially one involving Sasuke, and through fire and blood she was desperate to catch a glimpse of concession that he was just as consumed as she. But it felt like a fight she could never win, craving to be burned over, and over, and over again—constantly reborn by the scorching black flame of his desire just for it to even feel real. But under the most extreme of pressures, the most precious of jewels form, and when the ashes finally cooled, and they’d finally been able to acknowledge that thing between them and give it a name, she finally disintegrated.

It was in the unhurried, affectionate moments where she felt his love the most. He held her protectively, the same way he always did, as if she was the only place he belonged; looked at her with a softness she didn’t think he was capable of after decades of hurt; treated her like she was worthy of his most tightly guarded emotions. At the same time, it felt like a new battle she wasn’t familiar with—a new greed she was experiencing that she didn’t quite know what to do with—terrified of crushing the trembling jewel in her hand if she held on too tight.  

She untangled her arms, cupping the raven’s pale cheek, and he leaned into the lingering hold of her hand, a fond expression tugging at his lips as she pulled away just enough to admire his handsome face.  

“If I buy you somen, will you unbraid and wash my hair?”

“You trying to bribe me?”

“Come on, teme.”

 “You’ve had noodles four days in a row.” 

“I’ll let you order whatever vegetables you want me to eat too, I swear.”

“Only if you actually use burn ointment before we go.”

“Sasuke. You know I’ll be fine by the evening.”

“Your nose is actually pretty burnt. And your skin is red.”

“There’s no point in—” 

“—I’m getting really sick of your martyr complex making an ugly reprisal.”

Releasing his cheek, she frowned as his fingers tightened around her left wrist, yanking her back toward him.

“Naruto,” he rasps hotly against her. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“Save it for when it’s actually needed. I can just—”

“—It’s not going to waste, idiot. Just because you heal quickly and you’re tough as shit doesn’t mean you should ignore your own pain.”

“I don’t ignore it.”

“Yeah, you do. And you’re so horrifically unaware of it that you think I’m patronizing when I’m trying to be reassuring. You’re allowed to be pissed off and angry. But also, you’re allowed to accept some fucking help without it bruising your ego, for Kami’s sake.”  

She can’t resist but make an embarrassed noise in the back of her throat, causing Sasuke to look infuriatingly smug.

“Fine,” she hisses briskly. Judging by the steely glint in his eyes, he was prepared to argue his point until she gave in. “But only if you wash my hair and re-braid it after.”

He gently pressed a feathery kiss to her palm, the cool metal of her ring a stark contrast to the heat of his soft lips as he stole a half-lidded glance at her from the corner of his eye.

“Deal. Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

“Usuratonkatchi,” he mutters lowly, pulling her in close until their noses brushed. “Did you forget already? You don’t have to suffer through things alone anymore.”

“Who’d think that out of the two of us, you’d be the more sentimental one,” she sniffs, avoiding his sharp grin at her squeamish mortification.

“This feels like a humiliation ritual. I kind of wish you’d just punch me in the face.”

“You fucking wish, Uchiha-Uzumaki. If you really want to be humiliated, I’ll start shoving my tongue down the throat of your dramatic ass. In public. In front of everyone. Including our friends.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”
.

.

.
It was always the same. The bright blinding flash of light, the violent crash against the water, and the slow descent to the bottom of the ocean—depths slow and steady until she became enveloped in a forest of tall, alien stalagmites; the pressure of the deep sea holding her immobile, hiding the faces of her enemies within the vacuum of the ocean floor.

 Always, when she was surrounding by the dark navy water, the light from above only a flicker, that Sasuke would descend―his handsome face emotionless, dark eyes burrowing into her skull, the cold seeping into her bones. The vague, muffled noises around her from the underwater currents were a reminder of how far away everything else was.

Nose to nose, she’d see the wicked flicker of sparks as his arm viciously sliced through her, the raw electrical power frying her cells, and the agonizing squeeze of his hand on her heart crushing the air from her lungs until she couldn’t breathe anymore, before the finality of death made her sink to the sandy floor. He would vanish, and she would remain. Alone. Until―

She woke up with a gasp, Sasuke looming over and she tries to buck him off, fearing that he was going to smash her face in and she can’t understand why her lungs were burning like she was still submerged when his hands seized her face and the ringing stopped, and she could hear the worry in his voice finally break through the static.

“―Naru―Naruto, wake up―”

She shudders, exhaling wetly.

Sasuke’s hold on her face remained, tight grip slowly loosening as his fingers stroked her cheeks gently; his glowing red mangekyou sharingan swirling with determination alongside the tomoe in his rinnegan.

He’d broken her out of her nightmare.

She’d actually been so far gone in her terror that he had to force her out.

Naruto gently pushes him off, heaving herself up and burying her face in her hands—mop of blonde hair falling over her like a curtain to shield her from his overtly analytical gaze. Only then did she realize her cheeks were wet with tears, her frantic, ragged breaths catching in her throat as she hyperventilates, unable to slow her racing heart.

She felt two hot hands press firmly against her mid-back.

“Focus on my hands and inhale,” Sasuke commands. She tries, the heat from his hands increasing. “Hold it.”

Keeping her mouth covered, she stifles her breath until given the signal to exhale. It felt painful to inhale, each breath getting caught in her throat, but the pressure of Sasuke’s heat helped pull her mind away from the dark swirling depths of the nightmare.

“Again. Inhale.”

The weight of Sasuke's body against her back was reassuring as she tries mirroring the rhythm of his breathing. His voice tethering her, pulling her back from the brink of a panic attack as he guided her.

It's been a while since she's had one of those.

“Exhale. Now again, inhale.”

Her partner’s steady hands remaining as a guide even as her haggard breathing began evening out and stabilizing. Swallowing dry, she couldn’t help but notice how much her throat hurt.

“I―thank you,” she croaks hoarsely.

Wordlessly he moves away, Naruto immediately missing the warmth from his hands.

Behind her, she could hear him rummaging, the clink of glass and the rush of water from the tap. Only after the bed sank next to her, with Sasuke pushing ice water into her trembling hands, did she lift her head, the chill a stark contrast to her feverish skin. The blonde threw her head back, greedily drinking the entire thing before setting the empty glass on the bedside table. She avoids his face—instead looking out the window, eyes rolling up to stare at the full moon hung high in the sky, its rays bouncing down onto the glassy surface of the ocean.

“You okay?”

“No.”

He dutifully remained next to her as a steadying presence—even though she could feel that he was itching to touch her, the seal on her hand scorching with chakra—he remained rooted in place. She looked down at the tiny black circle on her hand, the almost blue tint, realizing she must have ripped apart all her barriers and flooded Sasuke with her distressed chakra. The idea that she had so little self-control, that she had forced him out of sleep just to get her out, made her sick.

Swallowing down the nausea, she pushed up, forcing herself to stand as she stumbled toward the window, ignoring Sasuke’s stunned expression. 

“I need some fucking air,” she sneers before impulsively vaulting out the window.

She bounced across the cobblestone shingles, nimbly traversing the uneven rooftops, until she finally landed hard on the cold, damp sand of the secluded beach. Unlike the morning a few nights ago where the ocean seemed so welcoming and inviting, today it was dark and monstrous; wind howling in her ears when she sat down on the damp sand, covered in a gentle layer of mist when cold air smashed against the warm waters.

She brought her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself as she steadied her breathing once again. Maybe they shouldn’t have left Konoha so quickly until she had more sessions with Suzume or until they manufactured some type of jinchuuriki-proof sleepings pills. But even then, this felt like a slap in the face.

It wasn't the first time she’s dreamed of drowning.

It wasn't the first time she’s dreamed of Sasuke killing her.

But she hadn’t had this nightmare in years. The last time was probably after he’d been released from prison and had left Konoha with so-much as a simple ‘goodbye’. She couldn’t understand why she was having it now. She’d been doing so fucking well—despite the restless sleep and anxiety, she hadn’t had a nightmare in weeks. You’d think after spilling her heart out to Sasuke earlier today, him reassuring her, supporting her, making her feel safe with the weight of her sorrow, she’d actually get some goddamn sleep.

Her eyes eventually adjusted to her surroundings, and she could make out the damp edge of sand where the water lapped against it; could make out the shadowy silhouette of the rise and fall of the waves. She doesn't know how much time has passed—maybe an hour, judging by the moon's slow arc across the sky—but she refuses to leave her spot until the tremor in her hands subsides and the bitter taste of anger leaves her mouth.

Slowly, she walks back to the hotel, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest as she takes her time, attempting to stifle the shame down as she tries to convince herself there’s no reason to feel this way. Sasuke was probably worried sick—but he was also the nightmare expert. He’s done his own fair share of sudden bolts and window escapes when he wanted to brood and be left alone. He’d probably be even more pissed if, after all the repeating, reassuring, and comforting, she’d gone back to square one without even trying.

She slinks back into the room through the open window, sitting on the edge quietly. The warm glow from the bedside table lamps warmed the room, two steaming cups of tea on the chabudai, while Sasuke stood in the back near the kitchenette—partially obscured in shadows while his fingers irritably drummed against his arm.

Narrowed, glowing eyes immediately find her.

As she slowly rose to her feet, she’s not sure what to say as his piercing eyes carefully observe her. The moment he pushed up and began stalking toward her, her heart started pounding against her ribs. For once, she’s the one to grab onto him first, pulling him into her as she greedily sought the security of his embrace—trying not to feel embarrassed at how needy she felt.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, his voice a low growl as his lips brush against her ear. She felt the heat of his breath as a wave of hot air washing over her, as if he were exhaling sparks of fire.

“I had—” she swallows. “A really fucking shitty nightmare.”

“Yeah, no shit. About what?”

“You won’t like it.”

“I wasn’t aware I was supposed to like your nightmares.”

Naruto laughs decrepitly as he pulls her toward the table.

She sits close to him, knees knocking into his thigh as he pushes the cup of tea closer to her. Chamomile—she thinks to herself as she takes a sip—of course he’d try to soothe her with tea.

He’s unexpectedly patient, a reassuring hand rubbing circles into her thigh almost like an afterthought.

“I…” she clicked her tongue against her teeth, eyes returning to the window and the murky waters of the ocean as she tries to find her voice.

“I was drowning.”

“I was drowning,” she repeats, louder. “I was drowning, and you killed me at the bottom of the ocean with chidori.”

His hand went still, but remained firmly rooted.

She fought back the metallic, acrid tang that rose in her throat.

“I thought you’d left me there. And then,” she forced herself to continue, “something pushed me out of the water. Just fucking launched me into the sky like a rag doll. Just this flying corpse. And when I looked back, you were in the centre of this maelstrom, just getting swallowed by the ocean. You didn’t even flinch. Like always.”

“Always?”

“I…I used to have this nightmare all the time. They first started…after we infiltrated Orochimaru’s base and you—”

She stops. Nervously rubbing her hands together, she takes another long sip of tea and stares at the faint, golden liquid. Her distorted reflection looked miserable, with dark discolouration under her eyes. She almost didn’t recognize herself. It’s like she didn’t even know who she was anymore.

“I think…I never cared that I was drowning. The first part always feels oddly peaceful. I cared that you were. I don't even care that you killed me. I cared about what it would do to you once you finally cut me off.”

Finally, she looks at him, surprised to see that he seems uncharacteristically stunned—eyes wide and unfocused, mouth drawn in a tight, grim line. 

“Sasuke?” she asks gently, his eyes snapping toward her. His face momentarily crumples before a furious expression hardens his features, his jaw clenched tight.

"It's—" he begins, then abruptly stops, inhaling deeply. His chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to control his anger and impending wrath. With a sharp intake of breath, he snatches his hand back, his arms crossing defensively across his chest.

She knew she shouldn’t have told him.

“I’m sor—”

“—Fuck me. If you apologize one more time, I swear I’m going to—”

He pauses again, sneering at whatever expression she was making.

“I’m not mad at you, Naruto. But—” he shakes his head, dark bangs loosening from behind his ear and hiding his rinnegan.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” he hisses through his teeth, voice low and hard. “But your complete disregard for your own fucking life terrifies me.”

“It was just a stupid fucking dream.”

“You’ve had a recurring nightmare where I kill you. For almost a decade. And you never told me?”

“You don’t tell me about your nightmares—”

“—Because I don’t ever feel happy that you kill me in mine—”

“I don’t feel happy, I just—”

“It’s not just the nightmare, it’s everything Naruto. Your recklessness during fights, disregard for your own injuries, always prioritizing everyone over yourself, never wanting to talk about anything that’s personally upsetting, even when Sakura says something shitty to you. It’s like you don’t—”

He cut himself off again, and she looks away, eyes welling at his blunt honesty.

She knew exactly what he was insinuating.

Now she really wishes she had just remained drowned in the water and frozen in a perpetual state of nothingness instead of these intense, unregulated emotions. She's never been this volatile. Never had this nightmare sucker punch her this hard, let alone this one. It’s not that she doesn’t want to, it’s just…she feels like she doesn’t know how to live in this new era of her life, and she doesn’t understand why Sasuke kept bringing up a past he hadn’t even been around for just like Tsunade, Shizune, and even Suzume.

The raven had learned a few painful fragments of her childhood. To say he was furious or upset was a colossal understatement. He’d almost gone on a rampage, all for her sake, which reminded her of every person who’d senselessly died for her in the war. Ever since then, she’d refused to reveal more. Besides, it’s not like anyone of them had cared then. Why would it matter now?

“I’m—I know, okay? I know giving a shit and trying to save everyone is a problem. You’ve told me a thousand times.”

“The problem is you not giving a shit about yourself. And now that your body has finally stopped living in a perpetual state of flight or fight, it’s crashing.”

“I don’t want to crash. I’ve never crashed before.”

“Naruto, you are crashing. Why do you think this is happening? You act like it’s your choice, when really, your body is forcing you to stop after ignoring it for so long.”

She hums in response, lifting her head off his arm so she could wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. She doesn’t even know why she’s crying—feels even more humiliation trying to choke its way back to the surface, as if taking advantage of how overwhelmed she feels.

“I—fuck. I’m trying, okay?”

His warm hands found her shoulders, pulling her close against his broad chest. His steady heartbeat was a comfort as he re-arranged his arms around her neck.

“I know you are,” he murmurs into her hair. “And—I’m trying too. I know I’m not—”

“—I don’t need that from you. You’re enough. You’ve always been more than enough.”

His arms tighten.

“I want to, though. For you. Only for you.”

Her trembling fingers close around his wrists, tethering herself to him once again.

“You’re…honestly the best. It’s me who’s not—”

Sasuke shakes his head.

“You once told me you’d shoulder the burden of my hatred, did everything in your power to learn what had happened to me, and that it was your duty to fulfil until we’d die together.”

“I meant it.”

“Then why won’t you let it be mutual?”

“I—I do it’s just—”

“—Because it is mutual. Whether you like it or not. But…I think after all these years of mutually assured destruction, something needs to change.”

The chilling feeling of dread washed down her spine like icy water. There is no way he could be insinuating—

"What do you mean?" she croaks, her voice thick with fear, fearing the reply.

Sasuke’s lips move to her ear.

“I used to think I’d die for you. I still would. But—you made me realize…I want to live for you instead.”

Relief bleeds into her calcified blood, leaving her breathless once again. Surely, he could feel her heart trying to jump out of her chest and into his hands. But when she tried to turn around, he kept her firmly in place.

“I’m selfish,” he admits harshly, breathing the life he stole back into her. It’s always been his to do with as he pleased. “I need you to live for me, too.”

“You asshole,” she whimpers, nails digging into his pale skin—carving moon-shaped crescents and letting her chakra flood the seal so he could finally feel the agony he was putting her through. “Making me think—”

“—Idiot.” His wicked smile presses against her ear, a warm, predatory thing, despite the ghost of his own relief evident on his breath. “It’s only ever been you.”

She forces her way out of his hold, turning around to glare wetly at his infuriating smirk.

"I'm serious," he hushes in a low rumble, a warning in his eyes. “Live for me.” The words hung in the air. “I need you to say it, Naruto.”

“Sasuke, I—”

Gently, she untangles her arms from his, her fingers lingering on his skin as she tucks his long bangs behind his ear, cupping the back of his neck to draw him in close. He looks at her expectantly.

“Swear it,” he demands.

“I thought I already—”

“—Naruto. Swear it. I need to hear you say it.”

“Fine. I love you. More than anything and…I’d do anything for you. So, I—I guess I’ll learn—no—I’ll live for you too.”

He smiles at her fondly.  

“I know I wasn’t easy either after I—”

“—That’s not—”

“—Naruto.”

She sighs.

“I appreciate your stubbornness.”

“That’s a first.”

She can’t help but glare at him weakly.

“I’m sor—” she bit her tongue, Sasuke watching her expectantly like a viper. “I didn’t think it’d take this much time,” she corrects.

His expression softens once more, letting go of her to take a sip of his own cup of cooled tea. He looked out the window, clearly mulling over what he wanted to say.

“I took my sweet ass time, too. Besides, time didn’t help me come to terms with the massacre,” he reveals slowly. “Not entirely, that is.”

“What helped?”

“Amongst therapy and building healthy habits?”

“Yeah.”

“You.”

At one point, she never thought she’d be able to experience what it meant to have someone be your home—still doesn’t know if she’ll ever get used to the eviscerating fires of Sasuke’s affection soften into a blazing hearth. Frankly, she didn’t think it was meant for her in this lifetime, yet Sasuke continued to insist it was in both this one and the next.

He peers at her from the corner of his eye, the dim lights catching the warm chocolate glow in his eye. Even his rinnegan didn’t look as intimidating, with the lilac and violet swirls. He pauses, gauging her reaction, the air heavy with unspoken words.

“What? No self-deprecating or smart-ass comments?”

“Nah,” she mumbles, finger running around the rim of her mug. “Just—grateful, I guess. For you. I got really lucky, ya’know?”

“Usuratonkatchi,” he murmurs softly, leaning onto his hand, looking at her with tender intensity, like he always did. “I’m the lucky one.”
.

.

.
When Naruto wakes up, it's early in the morning. She stretches her arms out blearily, yawning as she tries to wake herself up.

The balcony door was wide open, letting the warm breeze spill into their rented room with the feint smell of sea salt. Sasuke sat directly in the yellow glow of the early waking sun, wearing a loose, white-sleeved kimono blouse. Meditating, probably, given from how still he was. She wondered how long he’d been sitting like that, let alone just how early it was, until she noticed the two steaming cups of misting tea on the chabudai.

She doesn’t remember what time it was when they finally got into bed, but it had been well past three in the morning. Knowing Sasuke, if he was up and awake instead of cranky in bed, he probably just pulled an all-nighter. It was too early to think about how he’d known she’d get up soon—he knew she hated cold tea.

“Ohayo,” she rasps, yawning once again.

He regards her drowsy appearance with a sharp look over his shoulder, expression far more teasing than she liked.

“Ohayo,” he responds. “How are you feeling?”

She’s not quite sure. But as she replays the memories from yesterday into her head, stinging affection floods into her bloodstream making her rush forward. She stumbles out of bed, ignoring his questioning expression as she stalks toward him. Wordlessly, she kneels, arms encircling his neck to tug him close to her.

“What is it?”

She shakes her head, burying her face deeper into his neck, dragging him painfully closer. She loves him so much—she doesn’t ever know if she can find the words to express to him exactly what he means to her. All she can hope for that he just gets it, like he always had, no matter how clumsy she was in expressing it.  

“Live for me” reverberated in her head.

She could do that. She will do it, until the very instant she exhaled her final breath and forever would come.

“Ugh. Stop it, usuratonkatchi.”

“No,” she mutters, squeezing her arms even tighter until he squirmed—ripping out of her throbbing embrace and holding her back by her shoulders. The annoyed scowl on his face and cat-like touchiness made her grin. It was much more like his old self than the cautious and careful tiptoeing he’s been doing for the past few weeks.

“That hurts.”

“Pff, you walk off getting smashed through boulders every other day. I think this is fine.”

“Hn, you’re in a good mood.”

“Not really,” she yawns, drawing her knees into her chest as she sat beside him. “Just, feeling less cagey, I guess.”

She grabs onto her warm cup of tea, taking a sip and groaning loudly at the taste of genmaicha, again.

“This genmaicha does nothing for me. I feel less awake after drinking it.”

“It has less caffeine in it.”

She stared, mouth agape, her gaze fixed on his irritatingly self-satisfied and smug grin.

“You bastard. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Hn, obviously.”