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Waking up to the feeling of fresh sheets wrapped around him, still warm and smelling of the person he had shared the bed with, was a foreign luxury to Uchiha Sasuke these last eight* years. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, he allowed himself to indulge in that comfort for a heartbeat. Two. He knew, intimately, that such moments were rare and brief in the life he led – and that soon enough this one would get spoiled as well.
His demons never slept much longer than him.
And right on time they came, as if summoned, trickling into his mind. One by one, then in twos, in fours. Then they were a murder of crows, jabbing at him as he tossed and turned restlessly half the night. The worst horrors of his past blended with his worst fears for the future, playing on a loop, sucking him into the pit he struggled to claw his way out of for so long.
The mere aftertaste of those terrors had him bolting out of the bed, stumbling on wobbly legs. The wave of guilt and nausea bent him in half.
He tried to stomp it down but now, come morning, there were no shadows to blur the vivid snapshots his mind recalled with photographic precision. There were no arms – strong, and gentle, and loving – to shield him from the maelstrom crashing over his mind. No whispered promises of solace to guide him back from the brink. No soft, hot body he could bury himself in, chasing the few scraps of goodness left in his life.
Cold light of early spring offered him no comforts, only harsh illumination to the kaleidoscope of his nightmares.
He shook violently when the images came at him again.
The glint of a blade in a room full of shadows. A pale face locked in terror. Red eyes and red blood. So much blood. On the walls, on the furniture, on the floor... Mother was always so cross when the floor got dirty. Her body lying crumpled in the corner, and him. Standing there. The blade in his hand dripping with that red, red blood.
And then he stepped, towards a child and- No, kami… no! No, no, he stepped towards a boy… It was a boy, kami! Not a girl. Not that girl. She hadn’t been there... She hadn’t been there!
But there was no boy in that room full of shadows, only a girl with eyes red like blood. And it wasn't him holding the blade, it was… Oh, kami…! He almost... No. No... Kami! Kami, he almost killed… He almost killed his child.
He wanted to howl, but had no air left in his lungs to make even a whimper.
The throb of pain wrenched Sasuke out of there – that hellscape of nightmares lived and imagined, preserved with perfect clarity by the kekkei genkai that was a double-edged blade hanging over the head of every member of the Uchiha Clan.
He glanced down at his hand and realized that in an attempt to keep quiet, he gnawed his knuckles to the bone. Fresh half-moons of teeth imprints cut against identical, older marks. The taste of blood spilled over his tongue.
He pulled his shirt over the head and used the hem of that to wipe the blood from his mouth, then pressed his hand into it. It was black, so maybe Sakura wouldn't notice the stains and lecture him once again about proper wound treatment.
She was very particular about disinfectant and refused to consider the fact he was one-handed as a valid excuse not to use a bandage.
The thought of her made him realize he heard her voice, muffled by the door to the family room.
"… glad you understand that, but it's all right now."
She sounded patient, soothing. The tone was more familiar to Sasuke than he probably cared to admit and definitely more than he deserved. Who was she talking to?
"I'm not angry with you about what happened, bumpkin."
Sasuke's brain short-circuited for a moment, when the fact of his daughter's presence – right there, in the room next door – finally penetrated. It wasn't that he ever forgot she existed, but he was used to pushing that awareness to the back of his mind for such a long time that she seemed almost unreal to him. That's how he kept her safe from the danger he was stalking on behalf of Konoha.
Keep her safe from you, don't you mean? How spectacularly that failed?, his demons whispered.
To snuff them out, Sasuke focused on the familiar lifeline of Sakura's voice. He slumped against the door and listened in.
" …know you'd be confused after seeing those photos. I should have expected that you'd jump to conclusions. I could've handled it better and I'm sorry you've been hurt as a result."
"Thanks, mom. But it was still a stupid thing, running away like that."
On the other hand, his daughter's – Sarada's – voice was still foreign to him. Yet it held some quality Sasuke recalled, even if he couldn't quite name it.
"I should have come to you with all of that."
Remorse, Sasuke the same timbre, when he apologized. Before he could decide how he felt about that, Sarada spoke up again and he found himself listening intently.
"I know that now. But then I thought you… And that dad would tell me-"
The rambling, though? That was all Sakura. Sasuke could almost picture the accompanying flush, spreading over Sarada's face.
"And then you saved us, and got kidnapped, and dad took us all to a cave of a freaky dude with snake eyes…"
"He took you where?"
That tone Sasuke knew too well and didn't care for, since he had been on the receiving end of it too many times in the past. And would be again in the immediate future, no doubt.
"There were torches on the walls and the blue guy and the orange guy, from that photo of dad. But they didn't have the capes." Sarada rambled away, barely stopping to take a breath. "The blue one helped me with matching my blood to the umbilical cord we've found. But he must have made some mistake, because he said the results meant that the red lady with glasses was my real mom."
The sound Sakura made could be described only as an enraged oink.
The sound Sasuke made was a menacing promise of, "I'll skin that fucking moron."
"I was upset, but then Hokage came and he helped me get my head around all that. He's pretty smart, mom." There was a level of admiration in Sarada's voice, that Sasuke wasn't fully comfortable with. "He told me, that I shouldn't care, if you turned out not to be my real mom, because you still raised me and loved me and that's what really makes us a family."
First came the thud, then the loud, "I'll skin that moron and wear his pelt like a cape!"
"Oy, mom, maybe don't wave your fist around so much? I don't think we can get Yamato-sama rebuilding our house twice in less than a full day. It really makes him tired. And don't you agree with the point Hokage was making about bonds between family?"
A few very loud breaths later, Sakura’s temper subsided. „Sure, bumpkin. Any more revelations from yesterday?"
"Well, then we all went to save you, and you saved us again with dad's help. And then dad said all those things about how he and you are connected through me. It wasn't very clear. But he burned that blade that hurt you – like the one that almost hit me earlier – and you were doing all those attacks together without speaking a word, and you were looking at each other like… like you know. And I guess it means you really do love each other. And so, you must be my real mom after all."
There was a pause and then, "Mom?"
"I adore you to bits, bumpkin, but sometimes I don't even know where to start with you," Sakura said with equal measures of fondness and exasperation.
"So, I'll start here. You, Uchiha Sarada, are one hundred percent, no-doubt my daughter in every possible way. I carried you under my heart for the 37 weeks of my life. I labored for 20 hours to bring you into this world and I have both the scar and the stretch marks to prove that. I've tried to raise you the best I knew how. When I see how smart and perceptive you are, I can barely keep from bursting with pride. When you vanished without a word, I was mad with worry. From the moment I learned I was pregnant, you became the apple of my eye. You'll still be, even when I'm old and wrinkly and you will have children of your own. And you are both a product of, and the reason for, the love your father and I share. With me so far?"
Sasuke could swear he heard something between a sob and a sniffle, but he couldn't for the life of him say whether it came from Sakura or Sarada.
"Yes, mom," said Sarada finally. "But- could you maybe… tell me something more about that? About me, and you, and dad… and our family. About everything." There was such a hopeful longing in her voice, that Sasuke felt his throat constrict. "It doesn't have to be now, you know. But someday. Can you?"
"I can," Sakura agreed. "But I think that's a conversation your dad should be a part of, so we probably should wait for him to start it."
"Oh." Sarada's voice dropped suddenly, and Sasuke's throat tightened even more for some reason. "I thought… Did he have to leave already? I hoped- but we could wait for him, until he comes back the next time, right?"
There was something very itchy under Sasuke's eyelids. And something scratchy at the back of his throat.
"Ah, bumpkin, I meant we should wait for your dad to wake up. He's not much of a morning person."
"He's still at home?" The lift in Sarada's tone was immediate.
Sasuke was breathing hard through his mouth. This. This was the disappointment, and confusion and heartbreak, Sasuke tried to protect his daughter from when he decided he wouldn't come back to Konoha until his mission of finishing off Ootsutsuki was done once and for all.
"Of course. He wouldn't have left without a word," Sakura assured their daughter. "Actually, I think you should peek inside the bedroom and check, to see if he's awake."
Sasuke jumped away from the door, blinding… something engulfing his mind. When his faculties returned a second later, he realized he was standing on the other end of the room, hand on the window handle.
"You're sure I can, mom?" There was that hopeful tone once again and it cut right through Sasuke's denial.
He almost ran away at the thought of facing his own daughter. How screwed up was that? How screwed up was he?
Screwed enough that you might be actually doing your daughter a favor by sparing her your presence, his demons hissed, surfacing again. Coward.
Sasuke's hackles rose. He might have been a traitor, was certainly a bastard, but a coward he's never been.
He stepped away from the window.
"I'm sure you may," Sakura said from the other side of the wall, that suddenly felt so thin. "Breakfast will be ready soon and I'm not cooking twice on my off day."
Just as he heard tentative steps closing in on the bedroom door, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror hanging above the dresser. His hair stuck out wildly. He was sickly pale. His torso was littered with jagged scars – the memories of the wounds that didn't get the benefit of chakra healing – and the stump of his left arm was a mangled, ugly mess even after all this time. He looked more like a ragged wraith than like… a father.
He pulled the rumpled shirt back over his body at the last moment before his daughter entered the bedroom.
She halted in mid-step when she saw him already wide awake.
"Um… hi," she said, her eyes huge and her voice small.
"Hi." He repeated.
"Mom- mom says that breakfast is almost ready."
"Aa."
Sarada stood at the door and clearly didn't know what to do next. Well, Sasuke didn't know either. She took a hesitant step back. He took a step forward almost on instinct.
And that was somehow the right choice, because Sarada flashed him a sudden smile and bounced back toward the kitchen nook, expecting he would follow.
At that moment Sasuke felt he wouldn't disappoint her for the world. He also went without his morning cup of tea as long as he could take it.
Sakura stirred rice in the pot, her back to the rest of the room, yet the subtle shift in the line of her shoulders told Sasuke the precise moment she knew he walked out of the bedroom. She didn't turn to greet him. Instead she pushed a cup of freshly brewed tea that stood on the countertop slightly in the direction Sasuke was coming from.
He zoned in on that, peripherally aware that Sarada was buzzing between the cupboards and the table, setting it up for a meal. He reached for his tea…
… and heard a loud gasp, followed by a clatter of chopsticks rolling over the table.
He forgot about the hand.
"You're hurt!" Sarada exclaimed.
"Aa."
She scrunched up her nose, apparently not impressed.
"It looks pretty bad," she pointed out. Before he had a chance to correct her, she turned toward Sakura. "Mom, would you heal dad?"
"That's not necessary," Sasuke cut in, speaking his first full sentence that day.
Immediately, he knew he said something wrong. He didn't know what, but the dullness of Sarada's eyes and the twitch of her lips clearly indicated such. He found himself looking for a way to amend a transgression he didn't even understand.
"It is a minor wound. Chakra healing isn't necessary."
Sarada still didn't look quite happy. Well, what should have he said?
"Did you clean it at least?" Sakura asked lightly, pouring rice into three bowls.
"Yes," he said.
"Sarada, please, bring the supplies from my pouch. Sasuke, go wash that hand," Sakura directed, because she could read through his bullshit better than anyone.
Sarada went about her given task immediately. Sasuke was about to argue on the merit of his, when Sakura spoke up again.
"With water and soap, dear. And you're taking care of the stains on your shirt on your own."
He turned on his heel and went to the bathroom because he was enough of a seasoned shinobi to know when to perform a tactical retreat. And he knew that if he'd humor Sakura now, she would soften up before supper and wash the shirt for him.
He returned back few moments later, hand clean and stinging from the soap. Sakura was busy dicing tofu.
"Washing it is enough," he tried arguing his point once again, just as Sarada came back with medical supplies.
Sakura offered him a patient smile and looked towards their daughter, "Sarada, would you wrap up your dad's hand? He is hopeless with a bandage."
Sasuke and Sarada's heads whipped toward Sakura, matching surprised expressions on their faces – his understated, hers much more open, both with that unmistakable twitch in the corner of their left eyes.
"Mom? You're sure?"
"I'm sure. I showed your class how to properly bandage a hand wound last month, didn't I? It's a perfect opportunity to refresh that skill."
Sarada nodded, still visibly uncertain. Sakura gave her an encouraging pat on the arm and pushed her gently toward the table. Sarada took a few steps, then looked expectantly at Sasuke, who was still standing in the middle of the family room.
Now he had to go with it, didn't he?
He sat down at the head of the table and propped his hand on top of it, knuckles up. Sarada opened the container with antiseptic ointment and took a healthy scoop. She hesitated the briefest moment, before applying it onto the wound.
Sasuke hissed. Sarada jerked back.
"It's all right," he said immediately. He wanted to say something more – to let her know she didn't have to be afraid she did anything wrong – but he wasn't sure what.
Sarada flashed him a shy half-smile. "It stings when mom puts it on me, too."
"Aa." He was saying that a lot around his daughter.
She pressed a piece of gauze over the wound and went for the bandage. Her hands were tiny against his much bigger palm, but she worked quick and with some skill. It didn't surprise him. Sakura wouldn't stand for her daughter's ignorance about first aid.
"You have many scars on your hand," Sarada observed. She really tried to sound casual, but her tone betrayed her. She wanted to strike a conversation with him.
He found his mind frozen, unable to formulate the simplest response.
What do I do with her?, was the question he asked Sakura yesterday, when the guilt and shame and fear battered at him in waves.
You can start by talking with her. She's bursting with questions.
But how do I make it up to her? Would she even want that?
She skipped her Academy class, trailed Naruto outside the village knowing full well I would ground her ass until she's adult for such a stunt, and even after all that happened she still follows you around with her eyes, whenever you are in a sighting distance. I think she'll give you a chance.
But how do I atone for-
You'll know, when it comes up. You have half a life of practice with that.
Sasuke snapped back to present reality. Sarada was still looking at him, but her face was closing off, forming that familiar façade he saw in the mirror when he was her age. He hated seeing that on her. He had to say something.
"I don't often have someone to help me with my wounds." He motioned with his eyes to the neatly bandaged hand.
"Is that why you don't have left hand?" Sarada eagerly latched onto the topic. "Have your wound got infected and you had to cut it off?"
Sasuke covered a sputter of surprise with a cough.
"I- no." How was he supposed to explain that? "I picked a fight I really shouldn't have."
"Aha." Apparently, that was enough. "Why didn't you replace it? You know that Hokage had his hand replaced? It's the right one. He said he sacrificed it to teach some bastard a lesson."
"Did he now?" Sasuke asked the same moment Sakura called, "Language!"
"That's what Hokage said," Sarada insisted. "So, why didn't you replace yours?"
"To remember the lesson I've learned."
"Oh. What was it?"
"Not to pick up fights with morons."
Sarada snorted. "You're funny, dad," she said.
Sasuke couldn't for the life of him decide if he was happier with the fact he made her laugh, or with the fact she finally addressed him as dad.
"If you're quite done with that, then we can eat," Sakura announced, turning away from the stove. "Could the two of you help me make up the table?"
Sarada nodded and dashed to return the ointment and the rest of the bandages to Sakura's medical pouch. Sasuke stood up and went to pick up the chopsticks.
The breakfast was a quiet event, as if all of them agreed that they needed a bit of a breather after all the morning excitements. Sasuke was sipping his second cup of tea, when he noticed Sarada absentmindedly picking at her rice – her eyes were fixed on the broken picture frame propped on the cabinet.
He looked closer at it and immediately recognized his old picture, cropped up to fit photos of kid-Sakura and baby-Sarada as well. This must have been the infamous catalyst for Sarada's parent-finding quest. He really couldn't fault her for that – it looked about as natural as eyes on Shin's arm. Or maybe he was prejudiced, because he hated that cape and all it represented.
He threw Sakura questioning glance across the table. Not the best stitch-up job you've ever done.
She quirked her eyebrow at him. I didn't have much to work with, don't you think?
She had a point there. He really didn't like being photographed and avoided it like a plague. Which meant that even though, before he left, they were some kind of together for over seven years – almost two of which where they'd already had Sarada – there weren't many family photos of them. Actually…
Sakura inclined her head towards the hallway, where his coat was hanging. Go get it.
Sarada abandoned staring at the picture in favor of staring at them.
Sasuke stood up and went to the coat rack, pulled a small, leather-bound packed from the inside pocket and returned with it to the table. The leather was covered in intricate seal-work, that ensured if it ever was touched by person other than himself it would combust with Amaterasu's fire. The best present his moron of a friend had ever given him.
He released the seal, then pushed the packet towards Sarada.
"What's that?" she asked, clearly having trouble containing her curiosity.
"A better picture," he said. "Open it up."
She did – and he heard her gasp at what was inside.
There was more than one picture there and she was on all of them.
There was one of her and Boruto as preschoolers, wrestling with a very uncooperative cat, and each other. There was another of her and Sakura asleep on one hospital cot after that time she accidentally set herself on fire, trying to figure out the Great Fireball Jutsu on her own for a clan-specific-technique project at the Academy. Yet another, with her entire class the day of her enrollment into the Academy. And a few more.
Sarada wasn't the only one surprised by what he brought. Sakura's eyes were glassy. Judging by how devoid of pictures their apartment was, Sasuke suspected that after he left, she also wasn't much for taking family photos. But, evidently, the rest of their wayward bunch of friends set it upon themselves to remedy that.
The pictures tumbled out of Sarada's fingers. One of them flipped, revealing a note on the backside.
Brings back the memories of my adorable pupils. Sarada checked which picture that was – the cat one.
She started turning the other photos, one by one. Sasuke knew the messages on all of them by heart, even though he wouldn't admit that with a kunai at his throat.
I've patched her up myself, because Sakura melted into a puddle. For now, we'll stick to the strength training. That was on the one from the hospital.
Sarada scored highest in her group on the intelligence aptitude test. The council has high hopes for her. I'll keep them in check. Konoha doesn't do expedited tutoring anymore. That was the one from Academy inauguration.
There was also another one of her and Boruto. They looked about three and had fallen asleep wrapped together around a slug plushie. It was grossly sweet. It said Aren't they the cutest? We might yet become family in more than one sense, brother.
And another, of her perched up on a stone, bouquet of forget-me-nots in her hand and Inojin squinting at her from behind his sketchpad. The message said Ino says the flowers mean true love. If they get married, will you call me brother like you call Naruto?
Sarada scrounged her nose in disgust about those last two.
Then her eyes snapped up to Sasuke. She got it fast, just like Sasuke had expected.
"Dad…?" she said with a little quiver in her voice. "But if you have all these pictures of me, why did you-? Why didn't you recognize me when I came into that building? Why did you-?" She didn't finish that one, but Sasuke understood perfectly.
Why did you attack me, dad?
It was the question Sasuke dreaded from the very moment he had realized his horrifying mistake. The one that awoke the nightmares of the life long ago, the horrors he thought he finally put to rest, when his daughter was born. There was no answer he could give her, that wouldn't sound like a hollow, pitiful excuse – and yet he had to find one.
You'll know, when it'll come up. You have half a life of practice with that, Sakura's voice echoed.
"I took you for a decoy clone."
Sarada made a sound of surprise and incomprehension. Clearly, he had to elaborate.
"I had an encounter with Shin before I've got to that meeting place." He tried from the beginning. "We fought, he ran. I expected another attack would come. And – before I had met him and his clone for the first time – I was under impression I was the only person currently possessing an active Sharingan." That was in the top ten longest speeches he gave in his life. And he wasn't even halfway done.
"When you came through that door with your Sharingan activated, I assumed Shin must have somehow learned about you. He called himself Uchiha. I didn't know how much he learned about our family – I assumed the worst. I believed he sent a decoy clone after me in an attempt to exploit my weakness."
"I'm your weakness, dad?"
Sasuke swallowed hard, then met his daughter's wide, innocent eyes.
"You are the apple of my eye as well, Uchiha Sarada."
Sakura threw him a questioning gaze over their child's head. How much have you heard?
He replied with a not-a-smile that softened his whole expression.
"I understand, I think," Sarada said after a while. "You must have been very confused, dad."
She was so much of Sakura's daughter at that moment, that Sasuke's heart clenched with a tender pain at the realization.
"Yes," was all he managed to choke out at first. But there was still the most important thing left to say. "You must have been confused too, by what I have done. Scared and hurt. I'm sorry I've caused you pain, Sarada."
"It's ok now, dad," she said quickly. "When you knew who I was, you protected me. I- I know you wouldn't harm me." She declared. And then she jumped off her chair and threw herself at Sasuke, climbing onto his knees and burrowing herself into his chest.
He clamped his arm around her and was certain he wouldn't ever let go.
"Ugh, you're squeezing. Dad," she said a little breathless.
Well, he might loosen his grip just a little.
"You know, dad," Sarada murmured after a while, "my Sharingan activated only yesterday. I think it was on the way to that forest tower. I just wanted to see you so much…"
Sasuke's eyes were itching once again, but it wasn't so bad this time. Sakura sniffled from across the table.
She picked up the last photograph from the pile and pushed it toward Sarada, who took it up eagerly. This was a family photo. Him and Sakura in their stiff wedding kimonos, holding giggling baby Sarada between them. There were three words scribbled on the back. We love you.
"Why don't we have this one at home?" Sarada asked.
Sasuke wanted to explain that one too, but suddenly he found himself entirely out of words. Sakura stepped up then.
"We've only had one copy and your dad had to leave very suddenly, so there was no time to make another. I thought he should take it, since we were going to have each other to feel connected to our family."
"Okay," Sarada agreed easily.
And then she pondered the photo very closely. Sasuke could swear he heard gears churning in her head on a double speed.
"You got married after I was born?" She speared both of her parents with suspicious gaze. "Why?"
Sasuke started to sense a pattern here. They should probably be grateful this time Sarada even bothered with asking questions before jumping to conclusions.
"Because we didn't always do the things in the proper order. Just like you, bumpkin," Sakura teased. "It's a time-honored Uchiha Clan tradition."
Sasuke was quite certain previous generations of Uchiha would have collectively excised them from the family tree, if they knew even half of it. But that wasn't something he cared for anymore.
"Mom!" Sarada whined. "What do you mean by that? Dad…? Will you tell me already? About our family. About this." Sarada waved the wedding photo she was still holding in her hand. "Now?"
"Sure," Sakura said.
Sasuke hummed his agreement.
Sasuke was lying in bed, a solitary nightlight chasing away the total darkness with warm glow. He listened to the clatter coming from the bathroom across the corridor. His thoughts buzzed restlessly – too noisy to ignore, too scattered to make sense of. A few moments later the door to the bedroom opened then clicked shut. Sakura slid under the covers and nestled herself against his right side.
"So? How was your day, anata**?" she asked gently.
He wrapped his arm around her and hugged, probably squeezing too tight. She still shuffled herself even closer, pressing the length of her body flush against him, hooking one leg over his and burrowing her face against his neck. She smelled of sweet, fruity bath products and faintly of laundry detergent. She did take care of that shirt after all.
Sasuke breathed her in, his throat relaxing with every lungful, his thoughts clarifying, until he could answer.
"I don't know how I'll be able to leave you both again."
It tumbled out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying, and his first reaction was to wish to somehow suck those words back inside him and make them never be spoken.
Sakura sighed and brushed his neck with her lips. Once, then twice. Then she moved those soft little pecks towards his collarbone. Her hand found his and she weaved their fingers together.
After all those years, after all they had went through together, he still marveled at how she could make it better with such a trivial thing. Not good, but bearable. Infinitely more bearable.
"I know, anata. I'm sorry."
Of course, she knew. She probably knew from the moment he came back from that mission briefing eight years ago and broke the handles of all his kunai while packing up.
He turned toward her, seeking more of her comfort and she met him halfway. He kissed her hard, until they were both out of breath. She tangled her hands in his hair and scraped her nails against his scalp with just enough force to make him feel that tiny bite of pain that kept him away from the edge.
"How do I do that, Sakura?" he whispered hoarsely.
"With much heartache, Sasuke," she whispered back, her voice a bit rough as well. "Every time you come back and then leave once again, there will be much heartache for all of us. There will be longing in between. Sadness, perhaps anger sometimes, on a bad day. But that won't be new, right?"
He pressed his forehead against hers in mute acknowledgment of the truth. They stayed that way until the pain washed over them both, leaving them raw and tender, clinging to each other.
Only then did Sakura speak again.
"The new thing will be Sarada blabbering away about her friends and accomplishments, and crazy theories she cooks in her head."
This one made the corners of his eyes soften the merest fraction.
"The new thing will be seeing our family grow before your eyes, not just on the photos half of Konoha seems to send you behind my back."
This one made his mouth form the not-a-smile she loved the most out of all his smiles.
"The new thing will be getting your wounds properly treated, before you lose another part of your body. This time from gangrene."
This one made him nip her at the tip of her nose. Which made her nip his earlobe in retaliation. Which made them roll over the bed until Sasuke ended up on his back, Sakura sprawled across his chest. Her nightdress disappeared sometime between then and now, and Sasuke's shirt was bunched up to his armpits.
He counted that as his win.
"This…," Sakura breathed against his half-opened lips, "this can be a new thing too. A new old thing."
"Hn. Good things," he said.
"Worth some heartache."
She didn't make it into a question, but he still felt an answer was needed.
Worth all the heartache in the world, he wanted to say.
"Sure," he said instead.
Sakura hummed her agreement.