Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

The woods were quiet.

Not in that friendship and rainbow, peaceful kind of way. No. In that heavy, elephant in the room kind of way… After the fighting… After the fear… After the joint experience of pure terror, and a brush with death so sharp it still scraped along their bones, daring any one of them to acknowledge the enormity of it.

Team 7 moved along the dirt path in a loose line, the late afternoon light peeking through the canopy above. Kakashi led the group—hands tucked in pockets, posture relaxed, but book tucked away for once. His steps looked casual, but his single visible eye refused to drift far from his students.

Sasuke walked behind him. Though, calling it “walking” was generous.

The Uchiha’s gait was as stiff as his expression, uneven with a slight hitch in his stride each time his left foot touched the ground. He hid it well - shoulders squared, expression blank, save for the faint pinch between his brows. But every so often, a stabbing pain would shoot through his left side, sending a tremor through his shaking legs, and he couldn’t hide the wince.

And of course, Sakura noticed every. Single. One.

“Oh! Sasuke-kun—wait, slow down a little, you’re hurt—here, lean on me, I can—”

“I’m fine.”
Voice flat, sharp around the edges and pushed through teeth gritted hard in both hidden pain and annoyance.

Sakura’s face flushed pink anyway, hands reaching for him, brushing his elbow or hovering over his shoulder blades as if - even if he allowed it - she’d be able to help.

Naruto, of course, was oblivious.

The blond bounded ahead, then back, then ahead again, making sound effects with every leap as if reliving the battle right there on the forest trail.

“—and then BAM! Did you guys see me take out those mercenary dudes? They didn’t stand a chance! Kakashi-sensei, you saw it, right? I’m basically a real ninja now! Stronger than strong! Believe it!”

Kakashi hummed noncommittally. “Mm. Very impressive, Naruto.”

Naruto puffed up like a proud fox kit. “See Bastard?! Kakashi-sensei agrees!”

Sasuke kept his gaze locked straight ahead, jaw clenched. Naruto’s voice grated, too loud, bouncing off the hollow places in his chest and the thump in his temples.

‘Stronger than strong? Tch…’
The words curled like a fist in his stomach.

Because Naruto had been the one standing when he wasn’t, Naruto had looked Haku in the eye to the end, Naruto hadn’t nearly died on some stupid cold bridge…Naruto wasn’t the one who had failed.

Sasuke exhaled sharply through his nose, teeth grinding painfully.

He could still feel the needles -icy, precise -embedding in every muscle his useless body housed. Could still feel the cold that had flooded his limbs. The moment he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything replaying vividly in his pounding head.

Naruto had moved. Naruto had fought and Naruto had won…had smashed those mirror prisons without thinking, no hesitation.

And all he’d successfully managed to do was to throw himself in front of Naruto…. Naruto who clearly didn’t need his protection anyways.
Protected him, even when vengeance was supposed to be the only thing that mattered.

Why?

That question chilled him more viciously than Haku’s ice ever had.

He barely heard Sakura’s next flurry of fussing. Barely noticed the way Naruto was now bragging about being “one huge step closer to being Hokage, believe it!”, words tripping out without thought. Barely registered Kakashi slowing the pace, so Sasuke didn’t strain himself.

He was too deep in his spiral of Sasuke bashing.

‘I shouldn’t have needed help. Should have been the one protecting the others, not the one falling. I can’t even survive some stupid masked kid… how the hell am I supposed to face him! How am I supposed to-‘

“Hey! I can see the gates!” Naruto’s shout shattered the thought, blessedly or not.

The familiar wooden gates of Konoha came into view, washed in the soft glow of a sinking sun. The shadows stretched long, the air warm with the comforting smells of home—grilled food from the market, burning incense from a nearby shrine, cool earth from the training fields – all tainted by his inward facing rage.

Naruto sprinted ahead.
Sakura stuck close to Sasuke like a second shadow.
Kakashi brought up the rear, gaze thoughtful.

They passed through the gates. The gate guards waved them in, one of them calling, “Welcome back, Team 7! Heard it was a rough one.”

Naruto puffed up again, launching into every detail (loudly, and not entirely accurately). Sakura corrected him angrily, putting him down as she so often did, Kakashi offered only a hum and a lazy wave. Sasuke said nothing.

When Naruto finally paused for breath, Kakashi clapped his hands together.

“Well,” he said lightly, “how about a team dinner? My treat.”

Three heads whipped toward him.

“EH?!” Naruto slapped both hands to his cheeks. “YOU’RE TREATING US?! Kakashi-sensei, are you sick?!”

Sakura brightened. “A celebration? That sounds great, doesn’t it Sasuke-kun!”

“Ramen,” Naruto announced. “We HAVE to get Ichiraku! There’s no better—”

“Ugh, Naruto!” Sakura snapped, stomping her foot, missing Naruto’s toe by only an inch. “Sasuke-kun should pick! He’s the one who got hurt! And you ALWAYS choose, it’s always stupid ramen!”
She latched onto Sasuke’s arm. Hard. Fury gone from her face, replaced with that infuriating pout and rose blushed cheeks.
“Sasuke-kun, what do YOU want?”

Sasuke stopped walking.

His eyes darkened—not with pain, but with something colder, heavier. A gathering storm behind black irises.

He didn’t look at Sakura.
He didn’t look at Naruto.
He didn’t look at Kakashi.

He just stared ahead at the village streets—busy, warm, full of normalcy he didn’t deserve—and let the anger, humiliation, and confusion settle like stones in his chest.

“I’m going home.”

His voice was low. Final.

“Sasuke-kun! -”

He pulled his arm free the painful wince swallowed through gritted teeth.
He didn’t spare a backward glance or wait for the inevitable objections.

He turned away, slipping into the evening shadows of the village like the very ghost haunting his own thoughts.

Naruto blinked after him. “Hey. What crawled up his-”

“Let him be,” Kakashi murmured, eye softening beneath his headband.

Sakura watched Sasuke’s disappearing figure. Deflated, her hands wringing together, eyes worried yet somehow dreamy all at once.

Naruto scratched his head. “So… Ichiraku? And I get Sasuke’s portion to Right?!”

Kakashi sighed.
“Yes, Naruto. Ichiraku.”

And as Team 7 made their way toward dinner, Sasuke walked alone through rapidly darkening streets, the metaphorical ache in his chest now much louder than the physical ache in his legs.

****

The last of the sunlight slanted through the kitchen window, painting soft amber stripes on the wooden floorboards. Dust motes hung suspended in the air, unmoving except when the faint evening breeze crept through the partially open frame.

A half-drunk cup of tea found itself clinking on to the counter, in good company beside three others still waiting to be washed. The kitchen was cluttered, a stark contrast to the living space beyond - immaculate, untouched. The kind of contrast that spoke of someone who lived half in the world, half somewhere else entirely.

A girl stood at the sink, long fingers releasing their hold on the ceramic mug, silver hair catching the golden light. Her figure beginning to cast a shadow over the still of her home. Tall for her age, slender, with the kind of stillness that made even small movements seem deliberate. Her eyes - a steely grey at first glance, but laced with the faintest light blue hue if you managed to look closely enough - lingered on the cup a moment longer before she left it set down beside the others. A grimace.

‘Eesh…I really need to wash those’

The sound of shoes on hard wood floors echoed as they shuffled, the odd catch of grip resulting in an irritating squeak as she moved unhurriedly across the room, towards the door. Keys jingled softly as she lifted them from the hook above the sparsely populated shoe rack – Collecting shoes didn’t excite her like it did some of the other girls in the village. The sound echoed far louder than it should have in the small, empty space.

She locked the door behind her, and for a fleeting second, the light caught the engraved metal of her keyring. In cursive, two simple letters glinted back:

Z.H

The streets on the outskirts of the village were quiet at this hour. Too far from the market square, too close to the forest for anyone to venture without purpose. No body walked this way unless they had to. She liked it that way.

Her boots scuffed the dirt road, the sound of her steps her only companion. The fading sunlight spilled across rooftops and bled into the trees ahead, long shadows swallowing the road. Long legs slipped easily over the low wooden fence marking the village boundary -old, half-fallen and long forgotten.

Beyond it, the wild began. Tall grass brushed against her knees, the evening wind whispering through the stalks. Her path was barely a path at all - a narrow trail carved into the earth by her own repetition.

It led her through the thickening trees, up the slope that grew steeper with every turn, until finally the forest broke open.

The cliffside.

HER cliffside

Below, the village stretched wide and quiet, roofs catching the last glints of sunlight. The air up here always smelled different — pine and stone and something crisp that tasted like home.

Her self-declared spot awaited: an ancient fallen tree, its trunk half-rotted and overgrown with vines that spilled over the cliff edge, reaching toward the valley far below. She climbed onto it easily, legs dangling, black shorts leaving her shins bare against the cooling air. Her oversized jumper fluttered lightly in the breeze.

She sat in silence, eyes on the horizon.

This was hers — her quiet place, her sanctuary. The cliffs graced her with their comfort almost every evening, watching the world shift from light to shadow, day to dusk. Two years of sunsets, and somehow, the reprieve never grew old.

She exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing. The sounds of the forest faded until there was nothing but the sigh of the wind and the faint hum of the village below.

Her eyes slipped closed. Peaceful solidarity, an old friend, enveloping her once more.

Her eyelids twitched and, in an instant, they were open once more. Focused, unseeing on the Hokage Tower roof as her other senses overrode her sight, buzzing and alert.

Some one was approaching her calm.

Before she could run through the logical suggestions of who her nighttime visitor may be and what purpose they possibly had to interrupt her calm, the faint crunch of leaves reached her ears.

It was subtle at first, barely there, but more than enough to make her senses sharpen. Second nature to expect something from seemingly nothing. Keen instincts caught the shift in the rhythm of the woods, felt the disruption in her still air in her bones long before any sound reached her ears.

Heavy, uneven steps - branches snapping underfoot. Not clumsy through nature, but definitely not careful. The footfall of someone walking with force, but with the undeniable knowledge of how to move quietly.  The breathing that followed wasn’t winded, but tight, controlled. Not exhaustion from the steep curve of the hill… No, emotion. Anger, maybe? Frustration? … both most likely, if she were to believe the niggle in her gut.

Whoever it was, they certainly didn’t appear to be in the best of moods. He broke through the last of the trees, branches clawing at his sleeves as he stepped into the clearing, his irritation audible in the low huff that followed as he wrenched himself free from the brambles hold.

Her peripherals caught him then -Dark hair. Sharp features. Eyes too serious for someone his age.

Sasuke Uchiha.

‘oh…’

He froze when he saw her.

She didn’t turn. Her gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, legs still swinging gently over the drop.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the wind between them.

He shifted slightly — A flicker of indecision crossing his face. Stay or go? She knew he wouldn’t appreciate her presence. He didn’t like company. And yet… it seemed something about her stillness had caught him off balance.

His jaw tightened. He turned, likely even more annoyed than before at the realisation he wasn’t alone to seethe in his thoughts. A deflated huff of air, harsh sag of his shoulders as he prepared to leave -

“You don’t have to go,” she broke the silence softly, her voice even, calm. “I have no interest in bothering you. Promise” Not spoken as an invitation, just a fact.

He stopped.

The words hung in the air for a beat, before he moved— but not away like she had expected, nor like he had likely intended to, but instead to the side. His feet moving forward as if out of his control. He dropped down gracefully a respectful distance from the spot she occupied, onto the grass a short distance from her. Her gaze did not falter; steely eyes still fixed on the Hokage tower roof, but her peripherals trained intently on the raven-haired intruder. The gentle summer breeze tickled the loose strands of her own silver hair, encouraging them to dance around the line of her jaw and catch on the well-worn hem of the lilac jumper covering her fragile looking frame. Her presence had clearly thrown him off, replaced his brewing anger with startled confusion for a moment.

They sat, facing the same horizon, their lines of sight parallel but never crossing.

The silence that followed not awkward. Quite to the unnerving surprise of them both.

A mutual understanding that neither person wished to be approached, no expectations…just silence and their own thoughts.

She could almost hear him wondering who she was, why she was here, why she wasn’t fawning over him like all the others— the noisy girls at the academy with their constant need for attention. She hadn’t even offered a glance his way – Sasuke wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not by girls…quite the opposite in fact.

‘Poor thing’ she thought to her wryly ‘- must be so perplexed.’

Time passed, minutes most likely, measured only by the rhythm of the leaves and the quiet of two people who had no desire to fill it.

Eventually, she sensed the shift—the subtle change in his breathing, the weight of his thoughts turning inward again. Whatever had brought him here was reclaiming him. She had witnessed that shift more times than she cared to recall, lived it herself almost as much.

It was then that she moved.

A fluid motion, she slid from the trunk, feet landing soundlessly on the forest floor. Her head dipped as she brushed flecks of bark from her black shorts, movements unhurried, almost lazily – a family trait.

When she looked up, her gaze turned over her shoulder, brushing against his form for a fleeting second, before continuing their course to the forest.
Then her body followed, pivoting on her heel as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her lilac jumper.

She started toward the trees.

She was at home here. But Sasuke’s arrival — that sudden burst through the canopy, the charged air he carried — had told her enough. He hadn’t come here looking for company. He’d most definitely come to escape it.

The cliffs were hers — but tonight, she could tell he’d needed them more.
He had been seeking what she had always needed yet rarely received before finding this spot of sanctuary. Permission to feel freely.

And so, she offered him that.
A silent offering.

The tone of her thoughts twisted wryly, a humourless smirk begging to be allowed to stretch to her external face ‘look at me sharing…some would call that growth Z, gold star for me!’

Without a word, she disappeared into the dark of the forest, her footsteps soft until there was nothing left on the cliffs but silence and his own steady breath. Sasuke remained seated on the fallen trunk, eyes unfocused on the horizon.

She left him to his thoughts, her own frustratingly messy as her feet led her home, preparing to fill yet another mug with tea that would without a doubt end up added it to her ever-growing pile of dishes.

‘Sasuke Uchiha huh? … didn’t see that one coming’

********

He didn’t return the next evening.

She hadn’t expected him to, didn’t wish for him to.

She traced her usual walk — through the thinning trees, the overgrown grass brushing her legs in its usual way, the trail that wound up to her same cliffside view. The world below glowed once more, the soft amber light of summer nights, rooftops shimmering in the dusk.

Her tree - half-rotted, half-claimed by vines still hanging lazily over the cliff edge. It had seen too much solitude and was reaching for the valley below.

She sat, as she always did, legs dangling, the warm breeze tugging strands of silver hair into her face. For a moment, she wondered if she’d imagined it — Sasuke Uchiha, the dark-haired boy with storms in his eyes. The way he had frozen in place at the sight of her, the palpable battle she could feel him have with himself from the treeline.

He had disrupted her peace, and frustratingly, she kept finding her thoughts circling back to him and his unpredicted appearance.

‘At least he can successfully read a room – he did keep his mouth shut I spose.’

She knew of Sasuke Uchiha. Enough to know he hated unnecessary interactions, loathed sharing himself in any respect with those he didn’t deem important to him…even then, really. Brooding, sour, a loner of his own choice. Even a brain as logical as hers was struggling to understand why he had stayed. Maybe she had imagined it, her mind creating some pretend company. Staring out over the village, she a raised eyebrow - she guessed it had been a while since she had any real social interactions.

But she hadn’t.

Because two days later, he surprised her again.

This time it was his back greeting her as she breached the tree line, his presence causing a notable stutter in her step.

‘That’s two strikes Uchiha…I’m not fond of surprises’

she stopped momentarily just inside the tree line, half-hidden in shadow. He sat in the same spot as the first night — off to the right of her trunk, eyes on the same horizon. He didn’t turn when he sensed her, -but she knew he had, - didn’t move when she stepped into the clearing.

‘Eh…Least he had the good sense not to take my spot…I’m sure his fangirls would have something to say if I had to throw hands and bruise ol’ pretty boys face’

She didn’t say anything either.

Instead, she crossed the clearing and took her place on the fallen trunk, the quiet settling over them like a blanket.

Neither acknowledged the other, but the air felt different - full, not uncomfortable exactly, unexpecting but heavy with words unspoken.

The nights that followed were much of the same.

It was a rarity, but some nights he even got there first, his back greeting her the way hers normally greeted him. They never spoke, never shared more than the occasional glance if a bird startled from the trees or when the sunset caught the other just right.

It was unspoken, but becoming understood to them both — this place welcomed them both now. Luckily, she had raised herself well, she could share for now… as long as he continued to play nice.

Sasuke didn’t understand why he kept coming back. At first, he’d told himself it was coincidence — that the cliffside was simply quiet, a good place to think. But every time he saw the silver-haired girl already there, her posture still and calm, her gaze lost somewhere beyond the horizon, the anger of the day that had settled in his chest seemed to loosen just a little.

She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t try and win him or poke at his brooding. She just existed near him silently…. Providing company while leaving him entirely alone. Given his name, the occurrence was an entirely new one.

She never asked who he was, not willing to break the silence. Of course, she knew — everyone in the village knew the name Uchiha, even if his presence up here didn’t match the stories whispered about him in the streets. Up here he wasn’t arrogant or cold or rude. He was just… human. A boy trying to breathe through the weight of his own expectations and she graced him with the gift of treating him as such.

She closed her eyes, lashes teasing her cheeks as a silent huff of air passed her lips.

‘At least so far, he is yet to open his mouth…maybe then he’ll prove me wrong.’

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

Weeks passed. The leaves began to change, vibrant greens creeping into muted yellows. The days shortened, the air cooled, and still they came.

With the change of the season, her usual autumn tradition of tea on the cliffside began once more. Her well used flask attached to the beltloop of her black shorts as she climbed into her ever-welcoming spot. Her favourite forest green mug cupped firmly between her hands, slender fingers wrapped all the way around and clasping together where they over lapped, steam curling into the air, the mild scent of green tea carried on the wind.

She didn’t offer him any, not with words at least. It had been three weeks of their silent evening rituals when she allowed herself to break character for the first time…offering out an unspoken olive branch to the Uchiha Heir, intrigued to see how the loner would read it, and in turn, give her a better read on him. It was late August, skies deep purple and dark by eight and temperature’s dropping almost instantaneously once the sun tucked itself away. Her fingers ached from the cold despite them being wrapped tightly around the body of her mug, her knees tucked into her oversized jumper, yet goosebumps littered her skin anywhere fabric didn’t cover. It was cold tonight.

If her fingers were cold, even when hugging heat, his fingers must be frozen. He sat, in his usual spot, in his normal clothes, but not in his usual position. Usually, he would sit facing the edge, one leg flat against the earth, the other bent at the knee, arms either behind him holding his weight, or one behind, the other resting on his raised limb. Not tonight. Tonight, the bite in the air had him bringing both knees’ up, his arms, only covered partially by the fabric of his t-shirt, wrapped around his shins, pulling his legs into him.

‘Who doesn’t bring a jumper to a cliff side this time of year…idiot’

She didn’t drain the flask like she so wanted to that night. She made sure to leave at least enough for one last cup and placed it down, resting its striped body against the stump of her tree a metre or so behind her usual resting place. She felt the absence of its warmth immediately, stuffing her hands in her jumper pocket in an attempt to maintain feeling in her fingertips. Darn her unfortunate combination of long fingers and poor circulation.

She left the clearing in her normal manner – silent. The flask left invitingly, cup wiped clean and sat patiently in its shadow.

Her peripherals caught his head turn as soon as he had deemed her a safe distance away, no doubt, his eyes narrowed at the forgotten heat source. The beginning of an internal battle between warmth and that stubborn Uchiha pride.

When she made it to the clearing the following night. Her usual jumper and shorts in place but with the addition of fingerless gloves and a pair of thick knee-high socks to fight the breeze that no longer blew anything close to warm. Her flask sat in the same place she had left it, the little green cup still sat beside it almost smugly.

She let loose a small, deflated breath…It’s no fun trying to play games with people that don’t want to play.

‘Hmm, maybe I misread him. Stubborn Uchiha pride.’

She strode towards her discarded belongings, thoughts busy as she reached down to retrieve it ‘bet his fingers fell off from frost bite…maybe that’s why he’s late. Ha! Stuck at home bandaging finger stumps for being too proud to take tea from a girl! Serves him right’ as she snatched the flask from the floor to re fill it from her bag, she stumbled, the force of her movement taking her body by surprise. A quick sense check of the area to ensure her embarrassing wobble wasn’t witnessed, eyes trained on the bottle in her hand, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips

‘Empty…Hn, guess the cold won out after all, huh pretty boy’.

When he arrived that night, she felt him look her way, eyes finding the back of head, before darting to the space that the flask had been. Gone; now back in its rightful place, packed neatly into the side pocket of her bag. Green mug once again cupped gently between her glove clad hands, steam licking her features. His swallow was audible as he no doubt ran through possible ramifications in his head.

She didn’t move, didn’t look his way or jump to scold him for stealing her tea and her stillness seemed to finalise his decision. His feet began moving him to his spot to the other side of the cliff, the grass there flattened to his shape and ready to house him once again. She smiled into her tea – tonight he wore a jumper, hands tucked into the long sleeves.

Her smile widened, forming a crinkle in her nose in her efforts to keep it at bay as he let out a short, audible gasp. Infront of him sat a dark blue mug, identical to the one cradled in her hands bar the colour. Steam rose from its watery depths, warming his face as he wrapped the cup in his hands, and coaxed it towards his chest. She didn’t turn, but she felt those black eyes flicker her way, her peripherals noting the twitch of the tiniest smile on his face, smugly.

‘So, you ARE capable of emotion…who knew’

He mentioned nothing. Neither did she.

It was strange, she thought, how easy it seemed to be – allowing the company of someone who demanded nothing.

From that evening on, the nights played out the same.

She’d arrive first, close her eyes and take a moment to breath in the chilled air, letting it sting her lungs before setting it free. Then, two cups from her bag, both filled with hot tea, one blue, placed before the flattened grass of his usual spot, one green, carried back to her tree trunk which she would climb with ease, mug in hand. She’d settle into the peace of the cliffs; mug clasped in her gloved hands and wait. Wait for the inevitable crunch of leaves that would spike her senses and announce his arrival. He’d arrive to his steaming blue mug, quickly snatch it up and cradle in his own slender hands, the sleeves of his black jumper pulled over his fingers to ease the cold bite of the autumn wind.

And so, it continued — the stoic boy and the quiet girl, staring into the distance, searching for something neither dared to say aloud.

*****

The days shortened further; dusk came early now.

A chill bit through the air, clinging to the warmth of the two mugs at the cliff’s edge. She had grown used to the change. To the way her breath came out, hanging visible in the air, the way the wind tugged harder at her sleeves and span her silver hair in circles, tangling around her neck and knotting itself together.

She’d grown used to him, too.

It had been more than a month since that first night, and still neither had spoken beyond the occasional, accidental murmur.

She arrived later than usual; the sky had already dipped into violet. Sasuke was there, as always, already sitting. His elbows rested loosely on his knees; gaze fixed somewhere beyond the horizon.

She claimed her usual place, moulded by habit and the quiet settled over them again. Below them, the village lights began to flicker on, glowing like fireflies against the dark.

A gust of wind rolled over the cliffside, cold enough to raise goosebumps on her arms even through the fabric of both jumpers she wore. She pulled her herself tighter, tucking her hands inside the sleeves, childishly annoyed at the sudden burst of cold that had ruined her comfortable temperature.

From the corner of his eye, Sasuke followed the movement. He didn’t make to move or voice his thoughts. Just the faintest shift, barely perceptible; a judging glance through his peripherals. But she caught it still.

A small, defensive huff escaped her - soft enough that it could’ve been mistaken for a sigh.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m wearing two jumpers, I’m not cold!” she murmured, voice finding purchase, tone gaining confidence as her sentence went on, eyes still on the horizon, narrowed ever so slightly in an immature act of defiance. She had known it was going to be colder tonight and so had dressed appropriately damn it! She wasn’t the idiot that, up until recently, thought just a t-shirt was appropriate cliff side attire.

Sasuke’s brow twitched slightly. “Didn’t say you were.”

Lost in her internal ranting, his words caught her by surprise - not their content, but the fact that he’d spoken at all. She glanced at him. He remained staring straight ahead, face unreadable as it usually was but she was certain she detected the tiniest hint of teasing in his tone.

“Right,” she said finally, voice quiet, steely eyes sweeping over his stoic profile. “You don’t really say much, do you?”

He didn’t answer. It seemed that was all she’d get.

She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to let every dry remark in her skull spill free. It was ridiculous. How sitting beside him made her tongue itch for trouble. Some childish part of her wanted to poke at him, jab at the quiet, see if she could coax even the faintest reaction out of the famously unflappable Uchiha.

But that was a problem.

If she blurted out the things currently queuing at the tip of her tongue -like how she couldn’t for the life of her understand why the academy girls swooned over him when he spoke less than a dying houseplant and had the personality of a kunai handle, well... she’d shatter the fragile, comfortable silence between them.

Worse, she’d risk giving herself away. Because if she slipped up and let even a hint of recognition show, he’d know she knew him. And then he’d leave…ick, or start asking questions.

And she didn’t want that.

‘No, I don’t want that. Well… there’s something to unpack later’

She’d be damned if she was ready to sit with that realisation and pick apart WHY she didn’t want that, why disappointment teased at the idea of Sasuke storming into the tree line and finding a new location to brood in; for now, she would simply acknowledge- with reluctance, of course- that she liked this strange pocket of anonymity. Him assuming she was no more than a stranger lacking in social skills allowed her to enjoy the quiet without the weight of who she was, muddying the waters.

And so, she swallowed her quips, let the silence breathe, and let him go on thinking she didn’t know a thing about him.

Then - almost too softly to catch.
“Talking’s overrated.”

She smiled. Tiny, but genuine.
Her eyes flickered toward him once more.

He hadn’t looked at her when he said it; still didn’t.

But his tone tickled her. Dry and flat but edged with something that might’ve been humour if you squinted hard enough.

It tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She hadn’t expected him to play along.

Her filter slipped before she could get a grip on it.

“You’re right” she murmured, letting her voice go airy, thoughtful… before letting it drop, deadpan.

“Talking is overrated… So, stop jabbering on, will you? You’re ruining my quiet.”

His face crumpled, confirming his thoughts that her comment was absurd.

He hadn’t said more than eight words, yet she was telling him to shut up?!

She’d delivered the line with such unapologetic confidence that it landed like fact, and his features couldn’t hide his indignance.

For the first time, Sasuke turned his head to look at her, narrowed obsidian eyes now searching her blank features.

He hadn’t turned sharply, didn’t appear genuinely offended.

Just… slowly turned his eyes to her, as if in disbelief.

No doubt he couldn’t quite believe her audacity…she was the one that broke the quiet in the first place after all.

A disgruntled sound - half scoff, half exhale -escaped him before he could swallow it.

His brow knitting together in a way that would have others running for the hills or swooning at his feet. She kept her features blank, but unable to hide the challenge dancing in her eyes.

She waited for the retort.

The death glare or the renowned Uchiha shut down.

Instead…

He shook his head once, tiny, almost imperceptible.

A huff of breath left him, not annoyed… almost something close to a laugh.

And then he turned back toward the horizon.

The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before disappearing back into his usual calm.

She stared at him for a beat. Surprised, confused, and humoured; before looking forward again, satisfied in a way she couldn’t name.

‘Good to know…Game set, Pretty boy’

The warmth of a sigh brushed her lips. Dark eyelashes fluttered closed, resting delicately on cold porcelain cheeks.

She let the quiet stretch, easing out the last embers of her teasing.

For a moment, she simply breathed -slow and steady -letting the cool air settle her thoughts.

It was ridiculous, really, how quickly she’d slipped into this rhythm with him. It wasn’t like her…and from the knowledge she had of him…it really wasn’t like him either.

Sasuke Uchiha: the boy followed by whispers, so sharp-edged and closed off to the world… Showing her he was human after all, allowing her a slither of personality so thin it could’ve been imagined if not for the ghost of a smile she’d caught with it.

He didn’t know her. Believed she didn’t know him. Maybe that was exactly why he’d allowed it and why she felt no pressure to pretend, no instinct to withdraw. Here, in his company, she wasn’t just her name, or the trauma of her childhood. Come to think of it, maybe they had a fair bit in common… Maybe that was the reason the space between them had always felt strangely easy. Familiar, even.

‘Both the same kind of broken…Lucky us’

More recently she had found herself anticipating his arrival to the cliffs each night. Closing her eyes and stretching her senses if his usual timings weren’t kept to. The fist time she’d scolded herself, shook her head and reminded herself who she was (an idiot…clearly) and that solitude was safety. But when night fell once more and her instincts were again reaching for his footsteps long before her thoughts could catch up… she didn’t stop them once they did.

She had given up telling herself that she didn’t enjoy his presence.

She turned her face slightly toward him, just enough to catch the line of his profile against the quieting sky before speaking again, free of any earlier bite.

“Most people can’t handle quiet,” her voice gentle, melodic and like she wasn’t really talking to him at all. “They rush to fill it up with noise…’  a scoff, a tiny humourless laugh “scared of it… as if the world isn’t full of horrors worse than silence”

Sasuke shifted slightly, drawing one knee up to rest an arm on it. His eyes tracked the line of the valley, though his thoughts weren’t there. They were mulling over her words, still hanging in the air between them.

The quiet engulfed them again and this time neither breached it.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

Sunlight, muted by the October fog, seeped through her curtains in thin, hesitant bands. She exhaled slowly, a long breath still clinging to sleep and rolled onto her back. Her bones felt heavy, pleasantly so, the sort of heaviness that meant for once she’d actually got some sleep.

Grey-blue eyes blinked up at the ceiling of her apartment as she let the moment linger.

Eventually she swung her legs out from under the sheets, feet greeting the cool wooden floor with a soft thud. The chill coaxed a groan out of her as she stood, stretching her arms above her head until her joints cracked. A yawn. Another exhale. And then she padded toward the bathroom, hair a mussed curtain of silver across her shoulders.

The shower hissed to life, steam quickly blooming across the mirror. She stepped under the hot water, closed her eyes and let it run over her face. It only took a moment for the remnants of sleep to be washed away, for her hair to bleed from its usual soft silver to a dark iron grey. For a further minute she did nothing but stand there, palms braced on the tiles, temples throbbing lightly with the familiar ache of too much thinking and too little rest.

‘Another day,’ she thought to herself, brain still thick with the fog of morning. ‘Let’s try not to stab anyone before noon this time.’

A humourless snort. Soap. Rinse. Towel.

By the time she tugged on her clothes - soft grey trousers, loose enough to curl up in; and a white oversized T-shirt that swallowed half her frame - she felt almost human again. At the very least, she smelt human again; sleep and sweat replaced by lavender, and the faintest touch of pine.

Bare feet left damp imprints as she padded into the kitchen, wet hair tied into a messy knot on the top of her head. She reached for the boiler. Her hand paused mid-air.

Four mugs sat on the counter.

She stared at them like the universe had betrayed her. Dried rings of tea at the bottom of each one and last night’s plate, still wearing a constellation of dried rice grains.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ she sighed, leaning her hip against the counter as she scrubbed a hand down her face in exasperation. ‘I live alone. How do I create this much mess?’

She gathered the mugs with a clatter, dropping them into the sink with disdain. They could soak. They deserved to soak.

‘Right, now that’s sorted…Tea’

She wrenched open the tea tin next only to pull it sharply towards her chest and frown deeply into it. Ten sad leaves sat at the bottom. Maybe eleven if she counted the broken ones.

‘Brilliant,” she ground her teeth Childish pout taking over her features. “Of course, I don’t have any tea… that would require organisation wouldn’t it.’

Her eyes drifted toward the window. Grey skies. Mist-rain drifting like ghost breath across the glass. Cold enough that the air felt sharp. The tea vendor she actually liked - the one by the Hokage Tower -would be swarming with bodies pretending to be morning people already.

She grimaced.

‘Ick no. Not today.’

She snapped the lid closed. ‘That’s definitely a tomorrow-me problem… Today me is incapable of faking niceness. And entirely unwilling to speak to another human being before the suns even been shining an hour’

She poured a sprinkle of the remaining leaves into a mug anyway, heated the boiler, and stood with her elbows on the counter, watching the steam curl upward like it had all the time in the world.

Minutes later, sad, weak tea in hand, she wandered to her desk - the small one pressed against the window where she could watch the drizzle streak down the glass. She climbed into the chair, legs folded beneath her, mug balanced on her knee.

Her sketchbook lay open where she’d left it days ago; a half-finished doodle of the village rooftops, fog rolling through them like a lazy snake. Another page showed the cliffs - her cliffs - sweeping jagged across the paper.

And on the newest page: a messy yet unmistakable silhouette.

Broad shoulders, head tilted forward in that perpetually brooding way and spiked hair, dark as ink.

Warmth flickered behind her steel-grey eyes. Her pencil hovered before drifting back into motion, refining the lines of his collar, the curve of his jaw and the stark shadow that would always cut across his cheekbone each night.

“Tch,” she murmured, amused despite herself. “How is he so pointy.”

She sipped her tea, letting the warmth trickle down her throat, and hummed as she sketched. Soft, tuneless humming she only ever did when she felt unburdened and unobserved.

Outside, the rain continued its gentle whisper. Inside she spent her morning exactly as she wanted: warm and quiet… drawing the back of a man who had no business haunting her sketchbook, or her thoughts for that matter, to the extent he seemed to be.

*****

She had emerged from the forest before the sky fully surrendered to night, the horizon still streaked with bruised blue as long legs carried her into the clearing, toward the fallen tree trunk she had claimed as her own those years ago.

Surprisingly, he was already there - sitting in his usual place with that deceptively relaxed stillness, forearms rested on his knees, bandaged ankles crossed casually.

She settled herself into her usual spot, the dip created by her nightly visits welcoming her back without hesitation as her hands worked on auto pilot, flask opened and tea poured into her trusty green mug. Deceptively strong hands twisted the cap back in place, before rolling the flask blindly to her left – The soft thud of skin on metal let her know his hand had caught it; the soft glug of tea being poured followed soon after.

Silence settled, comfortable enough now that it didn’t need time to build.

She lifted her tea for the first sip.

“Leaf supply running low, hn?”

She froze. His voice, low and laced with something new. And when she turned her head, his eyes were already on her. Direct, Watching.

Her cup paused halfway to her mouth; steely eyes now fixed on his. A silent, incredulous excuse me?

He didn’t look away. His gaze remained steady as amusement flickered ghostlike at the corner of his mouth. He may be prickly as a cactus 99.9999% of the time…. but no one could deny the Uchiha genes. And having those intelligent, obsidian eyes trained on one’s own was quite the experience.

Yeah, intense eye contact with Sasuke Uchiha was … something.

“There’s a tea shop on the corner by the Hokage Building,” he added, tone smooth, almost lazy, like he knew exactly what he was doing. The slightest tilt of his head had raven bangs falling into his face, soft raven tips reaching for that annoyingly strong jawline. A twitch, the tiniest raise of one of those midnight brows had her mind blank from the audacity.

‘You know, I hate to admit it…But there IS something about a smug Uchiha that’s easy on the eyes’

Her blink was slow. Disbelieving.

He elaborated, deadpan, as though explaining something painfully obvious to an idiot: “…The tea is weak.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. Coggs whirring in her head. The fact that he had been the one to initiate an interaction, that he was actively teasing her…

Her morning replayed in her head…the tea tin nestled in her kitchen still very much barren... he wasn’t wrong, it WAS weak … but it was very much still a sore subject. And those god damn eyes…Sheesh, if she wasn’t such a smart woman, she’d say the sheer blackness of his eyes could see her wildly inappropriate thoughts through her (apparently, very thick) skull.

She clawed at any remaining dignity she could find, managing an indignant huff and crease of her silver brows.

“Yeah, well…Consider it punishment” she barked out finally, raising a brow of her own. “For ruining my quiet”

A childish roll of black eyes … “Ruining my quiet.” He echoed her words back with mocking, voice low and deliberately needling. Her jaw dropped a fraction. If he’d been any one other than Sasuke Uchiha, she had no doubt he’d have been pouting, air quoting the words with those stupid skilled hands as he spoke.

‘Scratch that…If he was anyone other than Sasuke Uchiha, He’d be getting accustomed to the feeling of his blood boiling in his throat right about now’

Uchiha Sasuke being…playful? The Uchiha heir seemed to be racking up quite the list of times he’d surprised her…. Funny, she never used to be fond of surprises.

She’d circle back later to berate herself on why it might only be Sasuke Uchiha that would get away with throwing such a taunting comment at her without getting himself cooked by his own bodily fluids; book marked it for her routine 3am self-loathing session….right now those obsidian eyes were still boring holes into hers, needing to be shown he’s not the only one competent in being simultaneously enthralling and a smart arse all at once.

She lowered the cup with narrowed eyes. “Such harsh judgement,” she added. “I thought this was a safe space.”

“I don’t judge,” he replied coolly, stupid dark eyes never leaving her face.

“You just insulted my tea.” … “It insulted itself.”

She choked. Choked on a startled laugh; short, sharp, uncontrollable. Her eyes widened at the sound of it leaving her as she slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at herself.

 ‘Wow…Yep. Real enthralling’

His eyes, dark and steady remained fixed on her; if possible, even more intently now. Tracing the shape of her amusement like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. ‘Can’t imagine he’s used to making girls laugh…cry maybe’

“That wasn’t funny,” she blurted, defensive, fighting the warmth that desperately wanted to colour her cheeks.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“No, of course. not” She huffed. “You’re obviously not the type to make jokes... Fun sponge.”

A beat. A quiet, incredulous whisper broke out of him:

“Fun sponge?”

She snorted, immediately regretting her own words. Hearing him repeat her insult, the indignant look on his face, features moulded in disbelief was just too much.  “Fun sponge,” she clarified, a sharp single nod of her head as she snapped her eyes away from his hold and into her mug of weak tea.

His eyebrow lifted just a fraction. Challenge.

Amusement. Something between the two.

She brought the cup back to her lips, sipping to hide the smile clawing its way up her throat.

A quick glance his way, his eyes were still on her, one brow raised and that almost-smile tugging again.

A battle of dry humour with a worthy opponent truly did scratch an itch not many could.

“Mmhm,” she hummed lightly. “Anyway…If you’re such a tea expert, you can bring the goods tomorrow. Keeping you hydrated is costing me a fortune anyway! Nice and strong though. Oh, and no sugar-”

She took another sip, turned back toward the horizon “-I’m plenty sweet enough.”

‘And hilarious…Obviously’

She felt the air still beside her. His breath caught. Barely. But unmistakable. Silence pooled again, but it hummed now, charged.

And then … Those eyes fell shut, face relaxing into something seemingly peaceful and the softest of laughs. Tiny but undeniably a noise of humour.

“…Sweet enough, huh.” A pause. Amused eyes opened once more, finding the rooftops far below them “Alright. Tomorrow night… Tea is on me.”

She let a smirk tug her lip, a quiet laugh slipping out. Externally, keeping her usual nonchalant mask in place but her mind racing through the developments of the evening. ‘Tonight sure took a turn’

She shook her head, smirk falling into her mug - silver strands catching the moonlight with the movement.

‘Good grief, Uchiha…Is that…Is that a date?
Shitting heck, don’t tell pinkie, she’ll smother me in my sleep.’

*****

Kakashi closed his book with a soft snap- posture loose, voice bored and gravity defying hair wobbling with the movement.

His sensei’s lazy posture didn’t fool him. The man was a coil of watchful tension wrapped in a cardigan of disinterest. He imagined Kakashi counted every bird passing overhead during training - Just because he could.

“Good work today, all of you.”

A barefaced lie.

Naruto had been chaos in human form, Sakura had drifted in and out of attention – heart shaped eyes following Sasuke’s every move, and Sasuke, well, Sasuke hadn’t even been half present. Physically maybe, but mentally…mentally, he had been high above the village under a blanket of autumn night, dark eyes warmed by reflections of silver and his lips forced upwards by a tongue sharper than any kunai he owned.

She was infuriatingly refreshing. All unabashed snorts, ridiculous insults and wry humour.

He chuckled, internally, of course. ‘Fun Sponge… Annoyingly hilarious’

The girls he normally had any form of interaction with wouldn’t dream of insulting him, especially not so openly, right to his face. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he had ever been insulted by a girl, until last night of course. They normally fawned and followed…gazed at him with idiotic adoration. Yes, it was refreshing to have stumbled across such an unbothered stranger.

The previous nights unexpected encounter replayed on repeat through his distracted mind.

‘Tomorrow teas on me’

‘And no sugar, I’m plenty sweet enough’

‘Shit, she hadn’t taken that as an offer of a date…right? … It sounded a bit like a date…Oh God you absolute Moron. I swear, if she goes all gooey eyed on me, I- ’

He blinked himself out of his thoughts as Sakura appeared at his elbow, before mentioned gooey eyes embarrassingly on display – A pink, determined shadow. He felt her smile before he saw it, annoyance seeping through his bones.

“Sasuke-kun,” That forced, breathy tone he despised so much, “if you want, I can walk home with-”

“No.” He doesn’t even pretend to soften it.

One swift movement saw his back turned to her, ignoring Sakura’s hopeful lunge to follow him. His stride didn’t falter, and he offered no acknowledgement when Naruto called his name, not the first time, nor the second.

He ended up having to take the longer route home. Again.

Sakura had created a habit of trailing him.

‘Luckily, she’s far from subtle. Chakra control as good as hers, you’d think she’d be better at hiding her signature at least’

He slipped down a market street, ducked behind a crate of freshly harvested vegetables and let a large crowd pass before darting through a quiet lane he knew she hated… too many stray cats. Ironic…Sasuke was very much a cat person.

Inside his apartment, the silence is a balm. Sandals kicked off and tucked neatly by the door, pack set down on the kitchen table, careful not to mark the varnished wood. A roll of his shoulders, muscles not pulling with their familiar ache…proof he hadn’t offered any genuine effort today.

He moves to the boiler, awaits the click signalling he can make his tea.

His newly acquired favourite…Green tea -Tendrils of steam billowing into his kitchen space.

Lunch was simple, quiet. Domestic in a way his life rarely feels allowed to be.

His favourite. Tomatoes; Salt, a dash of vinegar, a single, careful drizzle of oil.

He moves quietly to the kitchen table, sits, and lets the stillness settle as his thoughts start to unravel.

He should train more. He should focus. He should sharpen his kunai and run more drills and prepare for everything the future is going to demand of him. Instead, he sips his tea.

The cup warms his hands.
The tomatoes taste right.

In the quiet emptiness of his apartment, Sasuke allows himself the smallest honesty: He’s enjoying her company.

Just a moment… Then he swallows it down with the last sip of tea, sets the cup aside, and gets up to train once again.

*****

The next evening, she arrived at the cliff and found him already there.

He didn’t look her way when she sat down, but his voice came after a moment – Dead pan, a ripple across still water.
“You’re late.”

She blinked, surprised. Smirk annoyingly, already lifting the corner of her lips… Her usual stoic mask had a way off up and disappearing around the Uchiha lately. “Didn’t realize we were keeping time.”

“We’re not,” he said, though there was the faintest trace of something in his tone - That rumble of something she might’ve called amusement, if she didn’t know better.

She stifled her smile, biting the inside of her cheek and leaning back on her palms. Callous skin catching on the dried bark underhand. “Ch…Busy day,” she murmured. ‘3 whole mugs and two dinner plates back to being sparkly clean…busy day indeed’

He didn’t ask doing what, and she didn’t explain.

They sat for a while in their usual quiet. The air smelled of rain, the heavy kind that hits before a storm. Until finally, Sasuke spoke again. “Tea…” A statement rather than a question. Pale hands peeking from his jumper sleeve as he rolled his own flask toward her, mirroring the way she so often did to him.

‘Would you look at that…. Sasuke Uchiha, once again, you colour me surprised’

Sandalled feet wrapped around one of the trunks sturdier limbs, her back arched, leaning backwards off of the rotting log, her lower half unmoving as she dipped low, twisting her upper body as the arm furthest from him reached across her chest and toward the ground. A bite of cold air caught her freshly exposed hip, a ripple of goosebumps claiming the flesh as she dangled herself off the back of her perch, silver locks darkening as they ducked behind the obstruction, the moonlight unable to bathe it any longer – Her eyes were on the flask at her finger tips, but she didn’t miss the darting of those black eyes, a fleeting flash of obsidian over her exposed hip and the bare strip of her lower abdomen, before hastily snapping back to the horizon.

‘Ch, He may be Sasuke Uchiha…But he IS still a teenage boy.’

Cold fingers grasped the flask, and she pulled herself up. Stomach muscles rippling, that familiar pull as she pushed into the tension, using it to settle her upright again – clothing returned to its rightful place and all offending skin tucked away once more.

Both strangers trained their gazes forwards, pretending to be focused on the roof tops below, the pin pricks of vendors lights and warm family homes likely settling down for dinner. Though, she guessed they weren’t really strangers anymore, were they - Acquaintances maybe? Acquaintances without names, who sat in silence and taunted the other on occasion.

She poured the flask, steam rising in its usual fashion, as the scent of green tea flooded her senses. ‘Right flavoured tea at least, gold star for Pretty boy ‘

With a swift flick of her wrist and the familiar ‘thunk’ of metal finding a palm, the flask found its way back to Sasuke’s side.

“There better not be any sugar in this” Her face blank, but her voice heavy with challenge. Her tone was rewarded with the tiny smirk she was quickly becoming accustomed to.

“No sugar. There's these things on my head called ears and last I heard you were sweet enough”

Another snort, a stifled chuckle. Before she could retort, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, low and rolling. The sky darkened fast, storm clouds swallowing the last of the colour from the sunset in a moment.

Steely eyes watched the wind whip through the grass; the air charged with that metallic edge that always stung right before rain. “Looks like it’s going to hit hard.”

Midnight eyes found her face, a curious glint to his sharp features. “You’re staying?”

“Hmm.”

Sasuke’s gaze searched her, assessing as she placed her mug beside her on the trunk. “You’ll get soaked to the bone.” She gave a small shrug. “The rain is my favourite”

The rain found them just a few minutes later.

She pulled her knees up, tucking them into her baggy jumper, sitting her chin against them as the drops began their onslaught on her shoulders, hair clinging in dark, damp strands - soaked in seconds. It didn’t take long before heavy drips fell from each lock, creating rivers down her cheeks, over her jaw and down her neck into the collar of her jumper; the lilac fabric bleeding into a deep purple as it greedily soaked the moisture in.

 Beside her, Sasuke sat still, unmoving, the rain caressing him in the same way it did her. The spikes of his raven hair flattening from the sheer volume of heavy drops battering it, his eyes passing between her tranquil form and the dark valley ahead of him as the onslaught continued.

She didn’t need to look his way to conclude that rain was most certainly NOT Sasuke’s favourite. The grimace on his handsome face both confirming and comical. She could almost FEEL him judging her, questioning her poor judgment and no doubt reiterating to himself how strange she was…. this odd silver haired moron who enjoys taunting Uchiha’s, weak tea and facing a winter rainstorm without a single waterproof item of clothing in sight.

And yet he stayed.

Neither spoke. Neither moved. And by the time the clearing was empty again, the storm had long since passed.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

Chapter 4 - The Night of Ghosts

(Part 1)

Morning snuck into the apartment like a stain – grey and unwelcome. Sasuke sat at his kitchen table, unmoving,
breakfast untouched -rice cooling, miso gone thin, steam long dead. His elbows rested on the cold wood of the table, shaking fingers laced loosely, eyes hard and fixed on the far wall.

Not the wall, really. The picture on it.

A cheap wooden frame, dust thick along the edges. He could clean it. He should clean it. But touching it felt wrong… Like wiping away dust would wipe away the memories.

Reflected back at him, was himself - four years old, hair sticking up in crooked spikes, grin wide and empty of tragedy.
His mother knelt behind him, hands gentle on his shoulders, eyes warm and alive.

Alive.

His vision blurs but not with tears… with memory.  With hurt and burning anger.

The pounds of his own tiny feet muffle the sound of the real world, tiny feet against the clan’s wooden floors. Calling for them. Calling for her.

The metallic stench of blood hitting his nose long before he saw it. The moonlight turning the hall white -too white - glinting off a blade that he would see in his dreams until the day he dies. The heavy thud as his parents’ bodies hit the floor.

A sound he would never unhear. A sound he wished had belonged to him instead.

His jaw clenched involuntarily, so hard his teeth ached. Pale hands move and the bowl is forced away, the motion sharp and violent. Rice scattered the table and onto the floor.

His eyes didn’t leave the photograph.

He snatched up his weapons pouch, attaching it to his thigh with more force than needed. The strap bit into his skin -he felt the pinch even through bandages and cloth.
Good.

He stood, chair scraping loudly against the floor. As he stormed out of his apartment, the door slammed behind him. He didn’t hear it.

The Uchiha district greeted him with suffocating silence. The streets empty, suffused with the smell of rain-soaked wood and old ghosts. But in his mind? It was alive.

Children running past him laughing, his mother hanging sheets on the line, His father speaking to elders, His cousins sweeping steps, Doors opening, closing, Voices, warmth, light … All of it superimposed over the rot and abandonment before him like a genjutsu.

His hands balled in his pockets, the force behind them biting into his palms, leaving half-moon indents in their wake. His stride quickened, jaw locking, and teeth grinding to the point of pain.

By the time he reached the training ground, he was a storm.

Sparring became a blur. He didn’t register Sakura’s nervous glances, Naruto’s confused frown, or Kakashi’s raised brow.

Hit. Block. Strike. Punish. Sakura stepped in on Kakashi’s order, bracing her stance, determined- sure Sasuke’s bad mood would soften for her.

She was wrong.

He should ease his punches. He didn’t.

His kick slammed into her guard, forearms cracked under the force -She went down hard, pain ripping across her face, arms trembling as she tried to shield herself. He moved in again.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Soft in appearance but Iron in grip.

Kakashi.

“That’s enough,” the jōnin said mildly. Too mildly. The lift of his visible eye was casual, the tightness under it was not.

“Training is done for today, good job.
The unspoken words hung in the air ... ‘Go home’.

Unspoken, but Sasuke heard them loud and clear. He jerked free of Kakashi’s grasp, the motion stinging his shoulder – He welcomed it. And then he was moving again – but not home. Home didn’t feel like home today.

Fast, furious, feet hit the ground, each step sending a shock up his spine. ‘Why him’. Why him. Why him.
Why him. The only one left. The only one alive. ‘The only one forced to remember everything.’

He deserved the pain. Deserved all of it. Every throb, every crack, every burn.

He ran until he reached the cliffs, the daylight painting everything harshly. The cliffside felt wrong in the sun -too exposed, too real.

His stomach growled in ignored hunger, he refused to acknowledge it once more. He leant forward, breathing ragged, mind sinking into the depths of his darkest place, unable to escape it today.

The screams rising, confused and helpless, blades cutting, the sound of soft flesh being torn open. Bodies falling, blood oozing in thick waterfalls from the corpses of those he had cared most about, staining well-kept wooden floors and stolen by the dusty dirt streets.

The 72-hour nightmare his brother forced him into -every death replayed, again and again and again. Each repetition a fresh wound carved into the same scar. Cold fingers, numb with tension, gripped blades of the unruly grass beneath his form, hard enough to rip the vegetation its base, suffering a crushing fate as it’s balled into his fists.

Good. He wanted to break something. Break everything. Break himself.

His vision tunnelled, the world around him dissolving, he doesn’t hear the birds. Doesn’t hear the wind. Doesn’t see the sun. All he sees, is that night. All he hears, the sound of his mother falling. All he feels, the unfair, suffocating truth that he was the one who lived.

In the silence of his cliffs, he allowed himself to fall apart. Winter wind catching raw, hot tears, guiding them across streaked cheeks and into the depths of his midnight hair, his sobs swallowed by the valley below.

*****

She had walked this path so many times she knew she could navigate it blindfolded, yet tonight every fibre of the woods felt different…Somehow wrong. Like the air itself was bracing for impact.

Her boots pressed silently through the underbrush, each step softened by instinct - the forest seemed to loom around her.

Maybe the tree’s knew what day it was…She did. Of course she did.

she hadn’t spent months sharing her space with someone like Sasuke and not learnt the shape of his shadows.

The anniversary of the Uchiha massacre.

She exhaled slowly, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets as the darkness folded around her. She had told herself not to expect him tonight. He would avoid her, avoid everyone - drown himself in training, in solitude, in anything sharp enough to keep the memories at bay no doubt. He wouldn’t come. She was sure of it.

A twig snapped somewhere deeper in the woods - small, insignificant. Yet her head lifted sharply, breath pausing in her chest. She stretched out her senses without meaning to, second nature. And there it was, a flicker, faint but unmistakable.

Sasuke’s chakra.

Normally so tightly controlled: compacted down with perfection. He kept it neat, locked behind discipline so completely that she often had to look for it to feel it at all… Not tonight.

Tonight, it bled through the forest like smoke; ragged and uncontained, surging in uneven waves.

Her breath hitched. This wasn’t anger, well not just anger. This felt like grief, slicing its way to the surface with no care for the mess of flesh left in its wake.

Before she registered her decision, her pace quickened. Leaves scattered beneath her boots, her heartbeat climbed, but she didn’t stop to name the feeling clawing up her throat. Now wasn’t the time to dissect it.

Quiet feet slowed a couple meters before they breached the clearing, returning to her nonchalant walking pace as to not burst onto the cliffside like an uninvited surprise.

‘Yeah, surprising Sasuke Uchiha, today of all days isn’t a smart idea, that’s getting me a one-way ticket to the infirmary’

Branches snagged her sleeves as she pushed through the last stretch of trees. The night opened around her in a rush -the cliffside clearing yawning wide, lit by the full of moon.

When she finally stepped onto the ledge, her breath caught - she wasn’t startled, no, she had known he was here and had expected to find him in his usual spot, but the sight still hit like a blow.

Sasuke sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, fists opening and closing in quiet, furious repetition behind his spiked head. His shoulders - perpetually tense - were drawn so tight they looked carved from stone. His head was bowed, forehead resting on his arms, midnight strands shadowing his eyes.

She didn’t need to see them to know what they held. The moonlight highlighted streaks across his porcelain cheeks, long since dried. ‘Oh Sasuke…How long have you been here’

He looked like someone standing on the edge of a battlefield only he could see. And unfortunately, she knew exactly which one it was.

She lowered herself into her usual place beside him, careful not to trespass on whatever storm he was drowning in. The silence didn’t settle tonight, it suffocated. This wasn’t their silence, not the companionable kind built from nights of quiet and unspoken ease. This one was volatile. Unsteady. Cracking at the seams.

Her peripherals latched on to his form, unable to tear them away - the taut jaw, the shallow breaths, the slight tremor in his thumb when it brushed his fingers. A storm barely contained by sheer force of will. Her chest tightened, an ache rising she tried to swallow down.

This was the one night she wished she didn’t understand him so well.

Without a word, she reached into her bag, hands steady despite the heaviness crawling up her spine. Tea wasn’t going to fix anything. She knew that. But it was routine, their normal - a small grounding thread she had hoped might tether him for even a moment.

She poured it carefully, the liquid warm, steam disrupting the cold air above it as it billowed up into the night. Lean legs swung over her trusty trunk, the bark catching the fabric of her fitted trousers, mug balanced perfectly despite the movement – fluent, almost ninja like. Her feet found purchase on the dirt, carrying her slowly toward his statuesque form; Her steps were cautious, like those required when approaching a wounded animal in need of help.

An extension of her jumper clad arm, limb steady, as she bent to place the mug beside him – not too close, not close enough to startle him, but within arm’s reach for ease should he desire it.

He didn’t take it. Just stared straight ahead, eyes hollow, allowing the past to continue its hold, its hands wrapped around his throat.

In a violent flash, before she had even fully retreated to her spot and quick enough to almost, ALMOST make her startle, his hand snapped up and struck the mug away. The cup flipped, hit the dirt; the contents spilling out between them.  Hot liquid hissed on cool ground.

“Would you stop!” His voice was sharper than a blade, slicing through the air with cold precision. “Just -stop. I don’t want your stupid tea!”

 Her breath caught, but she didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Steel grey eyes dropped to the floor, drinking in the dark stain now seeping into the soil between them. When she spoke, her voice was soft and no doubt to him, frustratingly steady “Okay.”  

He scoffed, turning his face even further away, deeper into the shadows of the night.

 “You don’t know me. You don’t understand -sit there all sunshine and rainbows with your annoying, polished politeness! You think a weak cup of tea is going to solve anything! … Ch, just the same as everyone else”

‘I’ll let that slide tonight Uchiha…I’ve restocked thank you very much, my tea is NOT weak’

His words bit, but something in his tone - that mess of pain buried under fury- settled the tremor in her chest. The image of dried tear tracks burned into her mind. She took a slow breath. Eye’s firmly on the horizon, allowing him the privacy to feel without being observed.

“You’re right,” she said simply. “I don’t.”

He went still, surprised by her easy agreement. She continued, quiet but steady. “But you don’t have to know a person, or what it is that haunts them to know that it hurts.” His jaw tightened.

“Everyone has ghosts” she said, her voice matter of fact, spoken firmly but with a cautious softness. Her cool eyes flicked to his face, only for a fleeting second before finding the cliff edge once more with a heavy sigh.

“Regrettably, some more… horrific than others. But facing the pain that they put on your shoulders...its- What feels like your weakest moments are sometimes actually your strongest" His head turned in slow motion, black eyes narrowed in a silent hiss, now burning intensely into her face.

For someone who tried so hard to be emotionless, he was sometimes so easy to read, she could almost hear it now –

'I’m not weak! .... you dont know anything.... you try losing your whole family and having to carry on alone. What do you know about being strong, you’re just some idiotic civilian girl'

"- you’re still breathing...probably doesn’t feel like much right now but…it’s strong to face the world, when all you want is for it to swallow you up."

Her own eyes darken. The attempt to conceal any emotion from her face was futile, a clear flash of something shadowing over her features- real emotional that despite such a polished mask, she just couldn’t keep buried.

He saw, she knew he did.

‘Let him see…you’re not the only with demons Uchiha’

Her eyes snapped shut, not softly as they normally would at the cliffs; closed so sharply that the force of keeping them closed forced wrinkles in her cheeks.

Her jaw tightened as her head turned, silver hair falling softly across her arm, steel eyes opening slowly to find the depths of the forest over his shoulder. A flash of her own ghosts tormented her behind her eyelids.... white hair splayed across a dark wooden floor, red blood staining it, swallowing the snowy strands into the pool that continued to seep around the man laid before her. Katana lodged deep into his diaphragm and a hand raised…the same hand that haunts her dreams most nights...shaking, smothered in his own blood as it reached toward her 8-year-old form. His eyes – mirrors of hers - trained on her as she watched, in horror as the last ember of his light extinguished.

"Because you could, you know...people do it. Just lay down and die and when life gets too much."  The venom in her voice drew his attention then.

Her eyes found his. Hers raw and defiant, His dark and simmering in anger still, protecting his pain.  His jaw remained tight, midnight brows pinched but his eyes moved to scan her features, sweeping her face with the slightest of curiosity

"Time doesn’t heal like they tell you it does." A faint shake of her head, blink longer than normal and a humourless laugh parts her lips

"Stupid – we both know that” Her chest rises, her sigh deep. Another long blink and her features are back to being blank, eyes honest but quiet now.

“You can’t control other’s actions...but ...you CAN take control of yours."

The air thickened, heavy between them. Her words hit him like shuriken, silent and clean.

He turned his face away, but not fast enough to hide the flicker in his eyes.  She stood, brushing her hands against her thighs, dusting off imaginary dirt.

“You need this place more tonight -I’ll leave you to it,” she murmured. No bitterness, no judgement. Just quiet acceptance. She turned toward the tree line, her shadow slipping between the pale streaks of moonlight. He stared after her - the curve of her shoulders, the sound of her footsteps fading into the dark – emotions reeling.

Just as she reached the edge of the woods - almost too softly to be heard -his voice broke through the night.

 “You don’t have to leave.” She froze. It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even steady. It was… something else. A plea? An apology for his mood? Being human? maybe for his attack on her mug? For a long time, she didn’t move, her back to him as the silence stretched, fragile across the clearing.

She had been polite, given words of encouragement and validated his pain. Left his outburst and harsh words unchecked. She knew…. if she stayed now, things between them would change.

Acknowledging pain was common decency. But sharing it felt …intimate. Something real friends would do. 

She knew what tonight was for him. She hadn't had parents to relay the events to her in an age-appropriate way when they had taken place 8 years ago...no, but she had endured a detailed recount from her ANBU brother instead -she knew of the gory details of what was no doubt haunting his mind tonight.

And she couldn't leave him.

Sure, he had survived multiple anniversaries of this night before, could probably endure another without her presence. But the pain in his face was palpable. And she understood his pain, maybe more than anyone else he had. And truth be told...seeing Sasuke Uchiha, crumpled in on himself, tear stained and broken...she didn’t want to leave him to face his ghosts alone tonight.

Decision made, she turned back.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

Chapter 4 - The Night of Ghosts (Drink up Pretty Boy)

(Part 2)

Decision made, she turned back.

He wasn’t looking at her - his gaze hovered somewhere between the full moon and the depths of darkness below it, obsidian eyes unfocused and dim. His shoulders had dropped a fraction, anger drained out and leaving only exhaustion in its wake. She walked toward him, cautious; stepping easily over the overturned cup without bending to right it or give it more than a second glance.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t pry or offer forgiveness he hadn’t requested.

She simply lowered herself beside him - closer to him than she’d ever before. Her knees drew up to her chest, her arms loosely wrapping around them. Their shoulders brushed, intentional. Real. He was like ice, cold and stiff, and she could immediately feel the heat from her own limbs being devoured greedily anywhere they met his.

Then she leaned the slightest bit to the side, a barely-there sway of contact.
An intentional bump.
A quiet, wordless: I'm here.

His dark hair stuttered slightly with the movement. He exhaled – a long, soft breath that sounded like surrender.

They sat like for a while, silent, sharing the turmoil of his past. It felt like hours, but she knew it had only been minutes. Her hand reached for her bag, fingers slipping into the main pocket, fingertips brushing cold glass.

She’d felt like she might need more than tea at some point tonight, had expected to have the cliffs to herself and wasn’t sure they’d bring their old blanket of comfort when she thought of him being somewhere else, remembering alone. And so, she had packed her bag accordingly, prepared for… something.

He had been right: she couldn’t understand, not truly.

But there were things she did know. Like the need to quiet ghosts.
Even for a few hours.

Long fingers curled around glass – a fleshy noose around the neck of the Sake bottle now in her grip. The miniature type that came in pairs in cheap hotels. She didn’t announce it, didn’t explain herself. A soft clink cracked the air as glass knocked against each other within the confines of her bag, catching his attention even if he didn’t look up.

It was the movement of her shoulder leaving his that drew his eyes to her. Obsidian orbs followed the movement, landing on her hands as she twisted the cap free. She lifted the bottle toward him - not a push, or a plea. An offer.

Her eyes met his: raw, steady, sharing a pain she didn’t pretend to know.

His gaze flicked between the bottle and her face, still so angry and broken, but cloaked now in a silent question.

She answered with a small, sad smile.
“It’s not just tea in my arsenal,” she murmured. “I don’t understand. And I can’t fight your ghosts. But…”
A quiet shrug.
“I can help quiet them for a little while… If you’d like”

When she extended the bottle again, his fingers brushed hers as he took it - a faint, uncertain inhale as he brought it closer, trying to decipher what she was giving him.

She pulled out a second bottle, identical to his, twisted the cap loose in one swift movement, letting it fall into the dirt. Her eyes held his as she lifted her bottle, before tapping it gently against his.

A pitying little clink.

Then she brought it to her lips, tipped her head back, silver hair swaying and swallowed the shot in one go. A short exhale of air - smooth, unbothered.

He watched the gulp of her throat, dazed, caught in some space between disbelief and distraction.

Her gaze returned to the horizon, expression blank but eyes defiant.
“Sake shuts them up…The silence is my control,” she said softly. She didn’t care if he heard or not.

His eyes roamed over her features, softened by the moonlight and his pain. He followed suit; head back, raven hair shifting with the motion. The burn hit instantly, dragging out a rough cough he couldn’t disguise.

Before he could recover, another bottle was held out to him, cap already long forgotten.

Shoulders brushing again, silence settled back around them, softer now, welcoming - he took the glass between his nimble fingers.

Together, they lifted the bottles.

A clink.
A burn.
Two quiet exhales ghosting into the cold night air.

For a moment, the weight in his chest eased.

Not gone - it would never be gone, but lighter, engulfed instead by the burning warmth of Sake as the liquid settled into the hollows of his chest. Warmth of the Sake, and of the presence beside him that refused to leave.

When he set the second bottle down, he caught her watching him. Not with pity or with question. Just… watching. Steady as the moonlight bathing her face.

And something tugged at the corner of his mouth. The faintest twitch of a smile.

Time passed. The only sound the occasional clash of glass as the next bottle found it’s way into their hands, the spluttering cough from Sasuke’s throat as the third shot burned a little more than the others, the soft chuckle his first experience of Sake drew from hers and the night itself.

He rose to his feet quickly – far too quickly for a rookie that was four shots down. The world tilted a degree sharper than expected. Silver brow lifted, the ghost of amusement flickered over her face as he stuttered an inch, two, before righting himself. He tried to ignore it, pushed through it with a subtle wobble.

As he passed, his shoulder brushed hers, not a stutter this time, an intentional nudge, a copy of the bump she had given him a couple hours prior. That rare half-smile still haunted his lips.

She didn’t look at him, but the answering curve on her mouth betrayed her.

His feet found the trial leading back towards the woods and she stayed seated just long enough to take in his continued, unsteady gait. With a humoured sigh, and steady ease she rose, following with slow, easy steps.

“Lead the way,” she said, falling into rhythm beside him, hands tucked into her pockets and tone laced with amusement. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall into a ditch and vanish forever. Would be a nightmare explaining that to all the adoring fans I’m certain you have.”

He shot her a look - the Uchiha glower.

She grinned like it was nothing. Another shoulder bump, her feet unaltered by the movement as his grappled to keep straight. “Don’t make it weird, pretty boy,” she added dryly. “I don’t make a habit of getting guys drunk to trick my way into their homes. It’s not how I get my kicks.”

His expression - somewhere between startled indignation, and horrified disbelief, nearly made her laugh out loud.

A flush crept up his neck.
‘Sake,’ she told herself. ‘Definitely the sake.’

She stepped ahead, the hem of her jumper swinging around her thighs. He followed obediently, silent and somewhat dazed, mind flickering between exhaustion and the strange, warm hum her sharing of Sake had left in the air.

They descended the woods, the cliffs falling away behind them, village lights blinking faintly through the trees. Occasionally their shoulders brushed -accidental, but neither pulled away or altered their path.

By the time they reached the Uchiha compound, the night was close to preparing for morning once more; the streets empty, smothered in moonlight.

Sasuke stopped at the edge of his apartment, glancing back at her, face unreadable – not from its usual blankness this time, instead from the mass of unnameable emotions flitting across his tired features. She lingered a few paces behind, respectful, unassuming. She truly wasn’t interested in talking her way into his home.

With a final sweep of her quiet face, he turned toward his door and stepped inside - the quiet click nearly final.

Her feet continued their path, passing his door with a playful sway of her hips, enjoying the exaggerated brush of silver strands across her back as she replayed the wobble in his stride, his shoulder bump, the flush of his neck, the Sake warming her veins.

Then it reopened.

He leaned against the frame, eyes shadowed but somehow softer than she’d even seen them.
“So you do live in the village then” voice tired, slightly slurred and with something wry buried under it.

She paused mid-step, turning back with a quiet chuckle. The moonlight caught her hair, painting it dazzling silver.

“Well, obviously,” she replied, walking backward as she spoke. Her usually light tone, stronger, relaxed and full of humour “What’d you think? That I just… spawn on the cliff every night so you can brood dramatically at me?” She raised an eyebrow, steely eyes glistening with mischief.

He opened his mouth -closed it - opened it again. Nothing coherent emerged.

Her grin softened into something genuine. Something real.

“Goodnight, pretty boy.”

She turned, continuing down the empty street, hair picking up where it left off, swinging happily in the night. Her footsteps faded, light and steady. Just before she rounded the corner, her voice drifted back, confident and teasing, carried by the night breeze.

“Drink water – you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

And then she was gone - swallowed by the quiet streets, the lingering echo of her laughter leaving him standing in his doorway, pulse steadying for the first time that night.

*****

The latch clicked shut behind him,

Sasuke stood in the dim of his entryway, one hand still on the doorframe, pulse thrumming unevenly in his throat and vision blurring at the edges. His cheeks felt hot, the Sake settling somewhere behind his eyes, loosening thoughts he normally kept locked down with military precision.

Her footsteps had long since faded. Her voice, - that last teasing line, still rung through his ears, louder even than the thrum of his drunken heartbeat.

Goodnight, pretty boy.

His jaw tightened immediately.

Pretty boy.

‘What kind of ridiculous – Why- How …’ how does someone make a nickname that should be endearing, a compliment even, resonate like a taunt, a warm natured jibe.

His brow furrowed, irritation pricking under his skin. ‘A nickname. Is that…my nickname?’ It wasn’t an insult, not exactly, but it certainly wasn’t something anyone ever dared call him. Not in that tone – such an offhand, teasing, maddening tone like it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘Pretty boy.’

And the way she said it… A muscle jumped in his cheek, like she knew it would get a reaction.

He hated that she’d been right.

He pushed off the doorway, trying to shake the words from his mind. It lingered, wedging itself in a corner of his skull where it most certainly did not belong.

‘Pretty boy… Ch, Idiot’

He stalked into the kitchen, fingers curling around the counter edge. The apartment was silent - too silent -the walls absorbing the heaviness still clinging to his bones.

‘Pretty boy.’

It should have annoyed him. It did annoy him. But beneath that annoyance was something else - something unfamiliar and unwelcome. A strange flicker in his chest he didn’t know what to do with, the desire to let a smile break his mask like some idiot kid.

No one talked to him like that, no one dared tease him, no one had ever given him a nickname.

‘Except Naruto …If ‘Teme’ or ‘Bastard’ counts’
And no one had looked at him the way she had right after saying it - amused, unafraid, completely unbothered by his reputation or his clan’s name, enjoying the rise.

His fingers loosened on the counter. He didn’t know what made him more tense - the nickname itself, or the fact that… he didn’t entirely hate it. Didn't hate the way it sounded in her voice.

‘Don’t make it weird Pretty boy’

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, disgusted at the thought.

Ridiculous.

‘You’re drunk Sasuke…Drunk and stupid. Go to bed’

He reached for a glass and filled it with water- then immediately scowled at himself for doing exactly as she’d told him to. He drank down one sharp gulp, trying to wash down the heat crawling up the back of his neck, before dumping the rest aggressively into the sink…’There…Smart Arse. You drink water’

When he set the glass down, the word slipped back into his head like static.

‘Pretty boy.’

He muttered something sharp under his breath, half-cursed at nothing, then turned away from the counter as if movement could shake the echo loose.

It didn’t.

He made his way to his room, steps slower than usual, their line far from straight. Exhaustion pulled at his limbs. When he collapsed onto the mattress, he didn’t bother with boots or clothes, just lay back, one arm thrown over his eyes.

He'd expected the ghosts to return immediately.

Expected the screams, the blood, that night.

But instead - What surfaced was the clink of bottles. The warmth of her shoulder pressed to his. The quiet way she looked at him without judgement or pity. For the first time in years, the ghosts were quiet ‘…because of her?’

'No! -not because of her… because of the Sake.
Right. The Sake. Her Sake-
Tch. Shut up, Sasuke.'

Goodnight, pretty boy.

Heat prickled across his cheeks. He growled softly at himself, dragging his arm tighter over his eyes as if it could force the memory out.

Unwanted. Unwelcome…  impossible to ignore.

Sleep dragged him under before he could chase the thought away - and the last thing he felt was that stupid, unexplained warmth humming under his ribs.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

Chapter 5 – You look like Death.

She woke slowly, the soft morning light warming her cheek as it found her face, soft with sleep. Her eyes blinked open, clouded in slumber but without resistance -no grogginess, no headache clawing behind her temples. Her body felt steady, grounded. The remnants of last night lingered more in her mood than anywhere physical.

The sake never punished her.

Not anymore, at least.

Tolerance wasn’t a skill so much as a necessity-something she’d built over years of silencing her ghosts without suffering for it.

She rolled onto her back, staring up at the faint cracks in her ceiling. Listening to the silence of the apartment that had been hers alone since she was just a child. A silence she’d learned to welcome, weaponize, reshape into something protective rather than devouring.

This morning, that silence felt taunting.

Her mind replayed the night without permission.

Sasuke, hunched at the edge of the world.

Breath ragged, fists trembling, his carefully kept, mask cracked along its seams.

She had seen a lot of broken things. She had been one, many times over. But his pain, sharp, bone-deep, was something carved rather than fractured. A wound shaped by someone he’d once loved more than himself. It had pained her to witness it.

It had been a long time since she’d let herself ease someone else’s anguish, even longer since she found herself wanting to -lock it away inside herself instead. She didn’t allow wishes like that anymore.

But last night, watching him fail to hold himself together; something old in her had stirred. Something she thought she’d long since buried. Something dangerous and maddeningly human.

She shook off the unintentional shudder at that thought, pushed herself upright with a slow exhale and stretched until her spine popped. No punishment in her muscles. None of the misery Sasuke would be waking to.

‘What’s the betting he didn’t drink a drop of water…’

Well, he couldn’t get mad at her-she HAD warned him.

She splashed cold water on her face, silver strands clinging to her cheeks. Leaning on the sink, she studied her own reflection.

Not tired. Not hungover. Just… unsettled. Unsettled in a way she couldn’t quite place a finger on. His face wouldn’t leave her mind. That hollow, haunted look -a boy trying not to split open and failing in small, quiet ways. The soft, smile he had flashed her…not dragged out of him but offered, willingly. It still lingered like a breath against her throat.

She dried her face and moved through the main room -sparse, touched only by her. Boots by the door. A half-unwrapped bandage on the table. Two cups littering the counter. A blood-spattered arm guard she should have put away days ago.

Her thoughts kept drifting back to him despite her efforts.

The way he’d walked home beside her -rigid, clumsy, pretending he hadn’t needed steadying. The way he’d looked at her at the door -surprised but with something softer flickering beneath the exhaustion. And the way “Pretty boy” had hit him like a kunai to the throat…The flush of his neck, ears tipped pink.

A scoff slipped out. Followed quickly by a groan of embarrassment…Probably shouldn’t have let that one slip out… Maybe not quite as sober as you thought Z’.

A small smile, a shake of her head, then movement again; practical and fluent. She grabbed her keys from their usual hook, initialled keychain glinting in the winter sun, as she pocketed the small, wrapped bundle from the counter. Her apartment door swung open and sandalled feet left the comfortable reality of her apartment, mask in place, ready to collide with the reality of the village once more.

Outside, the November breeze tugged silver strands loose around her face.

“It has been a while since I last visited,” she muttered as she headed toward the village centre. “I have absolutely no doubt he’s managed to get himself into trouble again. Idiot.”

A dry smile tugged at her mouth.

“Honestly, you’d think a grown man could go a couple weeks without supervision…”

Her boots blended into the hum of the morning streets.

Whatever warmth she’d found on that cliff-whatever strange, fleeting peace had settled between her and the boy with stormy eyes -she tucked it neatly away, tonight’s food for thought.

Right now, there were other emotionally stunted men who required her attention.

*****

Sasuke woke to pain.

A low, nauseating throb pulsed behind his eyes, like someone pushing a kunai hilt into his skull with steady, merciless pressure. His mouth tasted like metal and sleep, his tongue thick and dry. His stomach rolled in warning. So, this was a hangover.
‘Tch. Pathetic.’

He barely remembered crawling into bed-or maybe he hadn’t crawled at all. Maybe he’d simply collapsed. His limbs felt heavy, as if poured from lead and left to cool overnight. He dragged an arm across his forehead, blinking against the early light bleeding through the window. ‘It’s November, dammit…why is it still so bright’

Everything hurt…Especially his pride. He attempted to sit up. Immediately regretted it.

His stomach lurched, vision tilting sharply. He froze halfway upright, breathing slow and controlled until the spinning dulled to something tolerable. “…Never again,” he muttered, voice rough, mouth dry and foul tasting.

He stayed there for a long moment, forearms braced on his knees, breathing through the fog clinging to his senses.

And then -Memory seeped in. Not the usual ones. Not the night with fear and blood in its veins.

He went still. He had slept… Deeply. Unbroken, no ghosts haunting his mind. No jolting awake, no fire behind his eyelids… Just sleep.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d managed that. A faint, unwelcome warmth pressed beneath his ribs.

‘Did she do that. -No, the sake-‘. The Sake did that. But he knew too well…She had stayed…She quieted it.

His throat tightened.

Unacceptable. Illogical. He would not humour that thought. Ever.

And yet, more memory continued to crack through. The bottles between them, her sitting beside him without hesitation, shoulders pressed together, the weight in his chest loosening just enough to breathe.
The words he’d let slip- the ones he shouldn’t have said. His face heated instantly… He had asked her to stay. Sasuke Uchiha didn’t do vulnerability. But she didn’t know he was Sasuke Uchiha…Maybe that was why…Why she had sat with him… walked him home… stayed until he was safe, no longer shaking -

He exhaled sharply.

She’d done all of it, hadn’t mocked him, hadn’t looked at him like he was weak or pathetic for feeling.

She’d just… stayed.

And he didn’t even know her name. ‘How ridiculous.’

He could still feel her beside him, shoulders supporting silently when he’d stumbled. He’d tried to pretend he wasn’t leaning. He’d undoubtedly failed, though she hadn’t commented.

And then- gods- she’d seen where he lived.

She’d walked off without the slightest wobble, despite the same amount of Sake as him; nonchalant and fluent as she always seemed to be, where she’d turned left…to the outskirts, not the village. Which meant she lived close. Uchiha Compound side. The thought lodged somewhere in his chest, uncomfortable and confusing.

And then - Her voice. That last, infuriating line.

Goodnight, pretty boy.

His eye twitched. Right. That. He groaned into his palm. Why had she said that? Why had he reacted to it?
Why was it still echoing in his head?

A stupid nickname-careless, irritating. But the way she’d tossed it over her shoulder, like she knew it would stick -Warmth crept up the back of his neck again.

Infuriating.

He pushed himself to his feet too fast. The world stuttered violently, forcing him to steady himself on the adjacent wall, jaw tight, mouth slick.

Empty stomach. Too much sake. Emotional instability. A catastrophically stupid combination.

He needed water. Food. Distance from last night.

But as he moved toward the kitchen, slow and reluctant, he couldn’t shake the one truth he didn’t want to admit:

He had slept. Because of her. The girl who’s name he still didn’t know.

And pretty boy -curse the whole phrase -still rang in his ears like she’d whispered it directly into them.

He scowled harder, trying to bury the heat in his face.

It didn’t work.

*****

It felt almost invasive; to be walking this way, knowing where he lived now. She had known he lived in the Uchiha Compound of course. But knowing he lived just a handful of doors down from where she stood; a vivid image of the apartment he resided in, called home, burned into her mind. It felt like she’d stumbled upon a secret she shouldn’t be allowed to share.

Steady steps cut along the narrow dirt road that separated their streets -her path winding through the quieter outskirts, his a straight line leading in from the Old Uchiha Compound. These roads would join soon, merging into the main path toward the village.

Real life lived beyond that fork. Merchants. Civilians. Noise.
She knew what it entailed and her mask was already firmly in place.

Here, on the outskirts of town, dust settled undisturbed and the breeze carried the scent of leaves and wild grass, not that of the rushing crowds, plethora’s of hot food and a multitude of different tea’s that awaited her in the village; she caught sight of him before either of them had ventured too far into the bustle of the ‘real’ world.

He moved toward her with his hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff, walking with uncomfortable purpose - the classic Uchiha stride that screamed do not bother me, I’m busy brooding…But today with added headache.

To a stranger, he’d look entirely normal, brooding, yes…but normal. To those that knew him, tolerable, maybe extra grumpy but otherwise acceptable. To her? He was very obviously a walking headache held together by spite and muscle memory.

His hair was a disaster; dark smudges sat beneath his eyes. His jaw was clenched with the kind of tension that screamed discomfort, not just his usual superiority. And when a bird burst out of a nearby hedge with a sudden flurry of wings, he physically flinched. The movement gained a giggle under her breath…he looked wrecked.

She slowed her pace, watching him before he noticed her. He was pretending so hard to have himself together. Almost cute.

…almost.

She stepped into his path just before their two roads met. He nearly walked straight into her.

He froze. Eyes widening for a fraction of a heartbeat -raw surprise, even rawer vulnerability and forced irritation as soon as his eyes found purchase on hers -before the mask slammed back down. His posture snapped upright, shoulders squaring.

‘Heh, bet that feels awful’

“Morning,” she said casually, steely eyes shining with feigned innocence. “You look-”

“Fine,” he cut in, sharp.

She felt the lie hit the air like a physical thing. His chakra flared with discomfort, brittle at the edges.

“Oh?” Her lips curved. “See, I was going to say, you look like someone rang a gong inside your skull.”

His eye twitched. Eyes strained both from the winter daylight and the obvious irritation at her well rested demeanour. “I said I’m fine.”

“You did,” she agreed lightly. “Sounds a lot like something someone with a raging hangover would say.” He scowled -tried to, anyway -but the pain cracked through it, softening the glare into something closer to a silent plea for death. A tilt of her head, light strands falling from behind her shoulder to tickle her cheek with the movement.

“How’s the head, Pretty boy?”

His ears went red, his teeth ground together hard enough the muscles in his jaw shook. His tone harsh on the outside, embarrassment hidden underneath. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” soft, laced with mischief.

His glare deepened. “Because It’s- …It’s stupid.”

“Hhmm,” she hummed, with infuriating calm. He swallowed. His jaw tightened more than she thought possible. His shoulders stiffened further, as if sheer posture alone could barricade whatever the hell, she kept pulling out of him.

She grinned. He opened his mouth-maybe to deny something, maybe to push her away -but whatever words he grasped for withered instantly. He shut it again. Slow. Measured. Slightly unsteady. The low sun revealed a faint tremor at his temple.

Her grin faltered, eyes softened- barely enough to be noticed if one wasn’t looking directly at her.

“You slept?”

His eyes flicked to hers. Searching and immediately defensive. Her tone was hushed, as if lowering her voice to protect a secret, his dignity; despite them being entirely alone. He found no malice on her face, teasing gone from her eyes, his guard lowered ever so slightly. Slowly, panicked, questioning if answering honestly might be a crime.

“…Yes,” he muttered, stiffly. “A bit.” She nodded once, a kind smile. “Good.”

A comfortable silence settled in the wake of her genuine concern -not the choking kind he had carried the night before, not the teasing kind she often created. Something easy. Uncharacteristic.

His dark eyes dropped, finding the dirt under his feet, his face suddenly flushed with discomfort – the emotional kind. His voice uncertain and muted “Last night…I just-“

Then his stomach growled.

Loudly.

She blinked. Unsure if he’d be grateful for the distraction from the apology, she was sure he was about to try blurting out or mortified that she was witness to Sasuke Uchiha being hungry…being human.

‘Mortified it is’…He looked like he wanted to sink into the ground and be buried by the road.

Mischief back in full force, she raised a silver brow, teasing eyes on his, poignant with question.

“I’m fine,” he said again, heat crawling up his neck. “Uh-huh… Shit, did I get you first-time drunk on an empty stomach?! .... Sheesh, Pretty boy it’s no wonder you look like death”

She was openly cursing, could feel her features becoming animated as she poked at him … ‘Eesh, your mask is slipping Z- Pull it together’

She reset her features, a small sigh tickling her lips and reached into her pocket. Sasuke tensed instantly -his whole-body coiling. A lifetime of instinct.

She cackled internally. ‘Probably worried Its more Sake’

Instead, she produced a small, cloth wrapped bundle. Cold fingers held it out to him; unpressured and steady. He stared at it like it might explode.

“…What is that?”

“…Food?”

Suspicion creased his brow. “Why?” His features indignant, almost disbelieving.

“Because your stomachs outed you as starving, and you look about thirty seconds away from collapsing like a Victorian maiden. Take it.”

“Victorian Maiden?!, I-” She chuckled – Oh, how she loved to see that offended look plague his features. A favourite of hers; beaten only by those softened eyes and the ghost of a smile he had graced her with last night.

“Take it… Pretty boy.”

His throat bobbed. Pride warred with nausea, dignity with dizziness. His fingers curled, relaxed, curled again. She could practically see the internal screaming.

Then, defeated, he reached for it. Unable – or unwilling – to meet her eyes.

Their fingers brushed -brief, accidental. A tiny jolt flickered between them- his chakra reacting like struck flint. He hid it perfectly, outwardly at least - not so much as a blink.

But she felt the stutter in his energy. Felt the way it spiked, pulled tight, and struggled for composure.

‘Oh… you sure are fun to unravel Uchiha’.

She stepped back before he retreated. Recognised the uncomfortableness in his shoulders, the internal back and forth behind his eyes – she offered him the emotional space without wanting him to have to ask for it.

“It’s not poisoned.”

“I didn’t say-” Indignant once more, midnight brows pinched tight.

“You thought it.” He glared.
She grinned.

He unwrapped it reluctantly: rice triangles. Simple. Intentional.

“…You made these?”

“No,” she deadpanned. “I robbed an eight-year-old.”

His mouth twitched. A real, actual almost-smile. She was sure inside that throbbing head of his he had chuckled. ‘As he should…I truly am hilarious’

“Eat,” Her tone warm, encouraging. He did.

With each bite, she could see something in him ease. His shoulders loosened from iron to stone to something closer to flesh. The lines around his eyes softened. His breaths deepened and his expression shifted from razor irritation to something quieter, heavier- like the world wasn’t pressing on him quite so hard. Just for a moment.

Once devoured, his nimble fingers folded the cloth neatly, stretching his wrist to return it to its rightful owner. But she was already moving away, the fabric of her cloaked shoulder brushed his arm – a casual gesture, but an intentional one, reflective of the night before. - as she stepped past him in one long stride. The way he chewed his lip and scrunched his nose told her that her gait was far too bouncy, too fresh for his hungover liking.

“Do try not to pass out in public. It really ruins the mystique.”

Her teasing was rewarded with a growl…rumbling from deep in his throat - guttural. In a way that scratched her mischievous itch perfectly.

“I’m not going to pass-”

“Uh-huh.” She patted his shoulder.  Patronising in her affectionate way.

Dark eyes snapped to where slender fingers rested on the fabric of his deep blue jumper.  ‘He’ll get used to it…now that we’re friends and all’

“Rest that brain cell, Pretty boy. Oh, and if you see an angry eight-year-old looking for his rice balls, I wouldn’t tell him you ate them- he had a solid right hook, and he’d be an unfortunate height – if you know what I mean.” Playful steel eyes darted from his quickly crumpling face to his hips, a teasing smirk painting her face. His eyes startled, disbelief and panic clouding the midnight orbs as the followed her line of sight.

“Wait—what! You didn’t actually-”

A flash of winter sun on silver, a mocking wink and she was gone, swallowed by the path leading toward the village, toward the noise, and the real world.

He stood there long after she disappeared, the empty bundle of cloth in hand, the taste of plum lingering on his tongue, and a warm pulse settling against his throat.

For the first time all day, his headache felt dulled. For the first time all week, he felt… steady. And the words echoing in his mind; infuriating, ridiculous, too effective-

Pretty boy…

He’d deal with that later.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

He’d expected to feel better after some food and fresh air from the walk into the village.

He didn’t.

The rice had settled the nausea, dulled the pounding in his skull and steadied his balance -but it had done nothing to settle his mind. No, that was another issue entirely. No matter how many times he dragged it back, he couldn’t stop it from drifting, sliding back into the same unwelcome loop.

Her. The silver haired thorn in his side.

He scowled at the thought alone, tightening his grip on the small market bag he’d just filled with tea leaves and tomatoes. He didn’t need her distraction. The thick paper of the handle scratched his palms, threatening to bite as his knuckle’s turned white from the force. He didn’t need… whatever this was. He needed focus, clarity, discipline.

Not this infuriating hum of static in his head, the restless pressure beneath his ribs.

His feet led him down a side street toward the next stall, jaw set, strides clipped. Uchiha mask firmly in place. But irritation coiled under his skin.

His exposed skin pickled in the shade of the shop buildings, cold air breathing down the collar of his cloak, teasing the ends of his raven hair trying to gain his attention. He paid it no mind, instead his mind replayed the moment he’d nearly collided with her. Physically collided. His senses weren’t that dulled, not even when buried in a hangover. He should’ve felt someone approaching. Even civilians had chakra, barely enough to be more than a faint warmth, or soft glow; but there was still something.

She had nothing.

Not suppressed. Not masked.

Just… nothing.

She moved without leaving a trace, like she existed in shadows and stepped into being only when she wanted to.

He picked up a packet of dried noodles, spun the packet in pale fingers, then put them back -scowling at himself for the indecision.

The image of her appearing before him nagged at his thoughts over again. Not the twitch of her lips, not the raise of her brow, not the flicker in her eyes - though he remembered them with irritating clarity - the way she’d appeared tormented him.

He’d stepped into a shadow on the dirt, looked up and she was… there.

Actually, now that he thought about it, it always seemed to be that way. He had never felt her chakra on the cliffs, never sensed her movements through the trees or caught even a flicker of her presence until she made a sound - a sigh, a hummed breath, the scrape of leaves under her boots.

He was sure it wasn’t normal…Not for a civilian…Not for anyone.

A flash to the previous night, her voice laced, full of playful patronising. “What’d you think? That I just… spawn on the cliff every night so you can brood dramatically at me?”

‘Tch, I’m starting too ...

Maybe she doesn’t actually exist-

All in my head? – No, no that’s stupid- irrational'

He moved away from the stall with a frustrated huff, weaving through the heavy midday crowd with practiced ease despite the faint throbbing still pulsing behind his temples.

‘I have never seen her interact with another living person…Maybe it’s not stupid – Maybe she is a figment of my broken imagination…’ A shake of his head, rewarded with a heavy thud in his temples once more.

‘No. Stupid. I’m not that far gone… Tch, pathetic’

Another memory hit him; painfully vivid. Of the dark autumn sky, a crisp wind and her… leaning backwards off her tree trunk, casual as breathing, back arched, hair a silver halo around her head, catching the flask he’d tossed with nimble fingers. There had been no surprise in her movements, no scramble or hitch. Just smooth, instinctive precision.  For half a heartbeat he’d admired the fluidity; though he’d killed that thought before it found purchase. A further flash of reminiscent play back, clear as day; the upward tug of her jumper, the fabric retreating to reveal the line of her hip as she dangled, perfectly controlled -balanced, impossibly steady. That one he shut down even quicker.

Civilians didn’t move like that. Civilian reflexes didn’t look like that. Civilian bodies didn’t… react like hers had.

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at himself for analysing it at all. What did it even matter -He didn’t know anything about her. She didn’t know anything about him.
And that was how he preferred it. Right?

He paused in front of a rice stall, forcing his focus onto the bins of loose grains, Obsidian glare sharp.

Routine. Familiar. Yet his thoughts refused to settle.

Who was she?

He didn’t like the question. He liked even less that he kept circling back to it.

Her ease around him, the lazy gait in her stride, her ability to own the silence, her irritatingly sharp observations, that rage inducing way she saw through him on purpose, and yet said nothing of it.
And that nickname -
‘Tch.’

He grabbed a bag of rice far too aggressively, the vendor flinching at the vicious snatch paired with the Uchiha’s glower, as he paid.

He walked away before he could think himself into a deeper spiral. But the truth was:

He was almost curious. And Sasuke did not do curious; because curiosity led to attachment and attachment led to loss. He knew that better than anyone.

So why-why-was he still thinking about the stupid way she’d smirked when she handed him the rice balls? The faint brush of her fingers? The warmth he hadn’t managed to shake even now.

He hated it… He didn’t hate it entirely … And he hated that more.  

He turned down another street, Feet quickening, sandals pounding the dirt, hardened by winters cold; intent on pushing his thoughts into something productive -

“Ah. Sasuke.”

He froze.

Kakashi appeared beside him like a lazy ghost, one hand raised in a casual wave, the other tucked into his vest pocket.

‘Perfect.’
Exactly what he needed on top of nausea, overthinking, and emotional stupidity.

“Sensei,” Sasuke muttered.

The masked jōnin looked him over with an eye that was far too observant for Sasuke’s liking. Sharp eyes that read words Sasuke didn’t share, cloaked in feigned nonchalance – in this moment, it reminded him far too closely of a different grey eyed nuisance.

“You look tired,” Kakashi noted lightly.

‘I am’

“I’m fine.”

Kakashi hummed, doubtful and knowing. “Team dinner tonight. I’ll see you there.”

Sasuke’s stomach twisted, metallic taste filling his mouth -this time not from sake. He didn’t need it explained, he was far from stupid. He knew what this was about.

Yesterday’s training, the edge he couldn’t blunt, the pace he’d forced on the team, Sakura taking a hit she shouldn’t have had to take, Naruto yelling, Kakashi’s eye tightening.

Team dinner was code… Check-in. Reset.
A polite way to make sure no one was falling apart without admitting someone had obviously fallen apart.

Sasuke scowled. “I’m busy.” An eye closing smile from beneath the mask of the grey-haired man before him, who’s tall form loomed in the narrow street, strategically blocking the raven haired Uchiha from continuing his path. The movement was over exaggerated and if you knew Kakashi…entirely false. 

“You’ll make time” Kakashi said, tone light, unconcerned. “Six o’clock.”

“I didn’t-”

Kakashi gave him a singular nod, another lazy wave and vanished; he hadn’t been asking, Sasuke would be at dinner.

Sasuke stared at the empty space where his sensei had been, frustration simmering low in his gut.

Team dinner.

Which meant Naruto’s obnoxious volume. Sakura’s fussing and pointed stares. Kakashi’s infuriating calm. The whole suffocating mess of it. And all Sasuke wanted to do -He ground his teeth. All he wanted was the quiet of the cliffs; The cold breeze, the open sky, the quiet that felt far from empty anymore.

He cut the thought off so sharply it almost hurt. No.

He wasn’t disappointed, wasn’t annoyed that dinner meant he wouldn’t reach the cliffs until long past sunset.
He wasn’t irritated that their routine-No… his routine-would be interrupted.

He sure as hell wasn’t thinking about her sitting on her tree trunk, against the cold black sky, waiting, hair flailing in wind, flask in hand.

He absolutely wasn’t.

He shifted the bag in his grip, turned toward home, and told silently himself -firmly, repeatedly-that he didn’t care. He wasn’t curious, nothing had changed, he certainly wasn’t looking forward to the cliffs.

He played it on repeat, berating himself over and over.

While the tightness in his chest, the small, sharp disappointment, whispered the truth -that he was a liar.

*****

Winter had settled over Konoha with its usual muted buzz - lanterns flickered to life, crowds swallowed by cloaks, the air tinged with the mouth-watering smell of roasted chestnuts and the sharp sting of cold.

Ichiraku’s terrace glowed warm against the night.

Team 7 filled a table near the railing, the heater on the wall adjacent to them glowing a warm amber. Naruto was on his third bowl, slurping noodles like his life depended on it, broth splattered on his obnoxious orange jumper. Sakura sat huddled closest to the heater, cloak pulled tight round her narrow shoulders as she turned herself subtly toward the heat source, she scolded Naruto’s disgusting table manners between the tiny bites she took – no doubt another diet. And Kakashi, Kakashi sat reading his book of course, barely even present with that infuriating, lazy calm.

Sasuke sat at the end of the table, furthest from the heater, shoulders stiff, jaw tight.

He wasn’t listening - not really. Or rather, he couldn’t listen.

Naruto’s loud chewing grated on him. Sakura’s high-pitched scolding grated on him. Kakashi’s detached page-turning grated on him worst of all.

Because he shouldn’t be here.

He should be at his cliffs. He should already be feeling the cold wind on his face, warm mug in his grasp, heating his frozen fingers, and-

He shut the thought down so violently his head throbbed.

He refused to name what he wanted.
Refused to admit he wanted to be anywhere but here – certainly not anywhere she was.

The bitterness sat heavy, acidic in his sternum.

If Kakashi didn’t even care to engage in this stupid dinner -why force Sasuke to be here in the first place? Why pretend this was some team-building moment when he clearly didn’t actually-

Naruto’s laugh burst too loudly beside him, and Sasuke’s eye twitched. Brow’s pinched and jaw taut, the Uchiha let out a controlled exhale, the breath fogging in the air before him.

He hated this. Hated being trapped here. Hated the feeling of irritation crawling under his skin -the kind that made him feel pathetic, out of control.

His mind kept wandering back to the cliffs. To steam curling in the cold, to the way she seemed like she’d been waiting for him even if she never said it, how sometimes it felt like she went to the cliffs not for solace, but for him.

He scowled down at his untouched ramen.

Ridiculous.

“Well, well, well…”

The voice slid through his thoughts like a wire pulled tight. It’s tone mocking, melodic – spoken with a patronising sing song.
Sasuke froze mid-breath, spine seizing.

He knew that voice. Recognised the incoming taunt, cloaked in a berating tone that would land any moment.

His pulse jumped painfully, his chest tightening before he could stop it. It wasn’t possible - she shouldn’t be here - not in public, not with them.
Panic flickered across his face before he crushed it down.

‘She can’t-not here-not like Shit-Naruto, Kakashi they-’

He turned sharply, breath catching, pulse thundering in his throat, the sensation so forceful he worried his teeth might clatter with each thump.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” The voice, so unmistakeably her. Yet the playful edge he’d grown to humour felt off. So used to her tongue cloaking jest with feigned annoyance. Tonight…tonight it was reversed. Her tone purposeful – annoyance cloaked in jest. “That ramen better be made of gold.”

Sasuke’s stomach dropped straight through him.

Was she… here for him?

‘Annoyed I didn’t show?! Seems extreme – She’s not- No, ridiculous she-‘

‘Shit…That tone, is she- she’s here to call me out? -In front of-Naruto?!, Fuck, and Kakashi-‘

His lungs stuttered, heat flooding his face despite every instinct screaming at him to lock down, lock down, lock-

“You remember we had plans, yes?”

For a second, his mind stopped working, his breath stuck in his throat, eyes shadowed in genuine fear.

‘Move Sasuke- Move!’

Fingernails found skin. Pinching his thigh until his knuckles paled to white. Wide obsidian eyes found her shape against the night. The glow from the heater illuminated the side of her face causing the shadows, exaggerating her lashes across her cheek and deepening the pinch in her brows.

Her arms folded tight against her chest, familiar fingers clutching the underside material of her sleeves, the dark of the night seeping into the creases created. But she wasn’t looking at him.

The contrast of warm light and winter night highlighted the smallest specs of blue, cool and light – like ice; but her gaze simmered, more heated than he’d ever seen and eyes narrowed on their target.

Kakashi.

The floor of his world lurched violently sideways. ‘They know each other?!’

She stepped toward his grey-haired sensei with an exasperated tilt of her head and familiarity that made Sasuke’s breath snag - easy gait, paper bag swinging at her side, oversized sleeves pulled over her fingers against the cold and hair lit like molten silver under lanternlight.

His heart hammered too loudly for him to think.

Why was she talking to Kakashi like that?
Why did Kakashi look like this was normal?

‘They know each other’
‘Why-‘

“Ah. Caught me,” Kakashi said, voice infuriatingly calm. “Sorry, team – looks like I double booked.”

Naruto choked on a noodle, spraying broth.

Sakura went rigid, eyes widening in confusion before narrowing -no doubt already cataloguing every detail of the silver-haired stranger standing before them. Kakashi didn’t have friends; not in public at least…not in front of his team.

Sasuke couldn’t move.

Could barely breathe.

She rolled her eyes; put-upon, but something subtle underneath that Sasuke managed to notice -genuine annoyance.
A fleeting flick of her gaze toward him. Too quick, almost soft.
Gone the second it appeared.

She covered it instantly with her usual dry bite.

“I’ve been wandering around for hours,” The arch of a silver brow as her frown deepened “Cold and defenceless – you know, some drunk even stole the rice balls you demanded I make for you.”

Sasuke flinched. Outwardly. The words sucker punched him with force.

A flash behind his panicked eyes, of neatly wrapped cloth, plum infused rice and her eyes upon his. Much softer then than they were now “eat”. His hands twitched, every fibre of his blindsided body wanting desperately to dive into his pocket and fist the cloth in question between his fingers. He’d planned to return it to her - at the cliffs after dinner.

Kakashi made a noncommittal sound. “Tragic.”

She snorted. Not with humour like the snorts he’d heard before. Disgruntled.

Naruto finally found his voice.
“WAIT— you KNOW Kakashi-sensei?!”

Sakura leaned in, whisper-shouting, eyes sharp with shock and something far more fragile beneath.
“Kakashi-sensei, you haven’t- Is this? -”

And then Kakashi shattered Sasuke’s reality, in the most infuriatingly casual voice he could muster:

“Team 7 – Meet Zakka Hatake, my sister”

Time froze. The noise stopped, the only sound the deafening ring in his ears and the resounding echo of his sensei’s words.

‘Hatake.’

The name struck like steel to bone.

‘Hatake’

Every muscle in his body locked, breath knocked out of him. He felt it physically - a sharp, clean wound right through the ribs.

‘Hatake’

‘Zakka Hatake’.

‘Careful what you wish for Sasuke – figment of your imagination huh - Idiot’
Her name detonated everything he thought he’d known.

‘Hatake.’

His mind tore through every detail at once:

Her nonchalant tone, so much like Kakashi’s.
Those sharp, observant eyes, so much like Kakashi’s.
That dry, biting humour, so much like Kakashi’s.  
Her ease, her light steps, her instincts, not civilian after all.

How had he not realised. Silver hair, grey eyes, that stupid nonchalant head tilt. ‘idiot’. She had known all along…She knew exactly who he was.

Every piece hit at once, too fast and somehow still too late. His brain scrambled still but suddenly the truth was undeniable in a way he wished it wasn’t

Heat rose in him - not embarrassment.

Anger.

Cold, sharp, unmistakable anger.

Kakashi pushed up from the table with a lazy stretch.
“Well… looks like I have a time-out to attend,” he said, giving his usual half-wave and that eye-closing smile that meant he absolutely didn’t care. “You three can cover the bill, right?”

Naruto let out a strangled squawk loud enough to rattle cutlery.

Sakura’s glare cut sideways, annoyed at Naruto for causing a scene, annoyed at Kakashi for dumping the bill, and unable to stop her eyes flicking toward the beautiful stranger still hovering at the corner of their table. Her face, so readable screamed that her insecurities were rife.

Sasuke didn’t hear a word.

He was on his feet before he realized he’d moved.

He didn’t look at Naruto. Didn’t look at Sakura. Didn’t look for Kakashi’s retreating back.

He surged forward, out of the booth and past her - too close, shoulders knocking, the contact sparking a flash of that night, on the cliffs, her shoulder brushing his, holding him steady in more way than one.

She stood firm, crossed arms slackened but still gripping at the fabric of her jumper. Less Authoritative now. Clutching the material for her own comfort.

“Small world, huh?” she murmured, quiet, like she understood every thought crashing through him.

Her tone was light. But something underneath it wasn’t. Cautious? Regretful? -He didn’t care.

“Too small,” his voice low, barely above a whisper, still sharp enough to cut.

Her breath caught -soft, barely there unless you were looking for it. He didn’t stay to see anything else.

He pushed off the terrace and into the cold street, footsteps clipped and hard, each one fuelled by a betrayal he couldn’t justify, couldn’t swallow.

Behind him, Naruto kept complaining about the bill.
Sakura tried to scold him, throwing anxious glances after Sasuke. Kakashi long since swallowed by the hustle of the street.

She didn’t call after him, no move made to follow his racing feet.

Just watched him disappear, hair flicking across her face in the wind.

Steely eyes fell to the paper bag at her side- the corner of the tea packaging sticking out into the crisp winter air, pushed flush against her flask within the confines of the bag- rising again to find his fading form easily amongst the crowds. A blink and the Uchiha symbol he always carried was gone, melted into the night.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

Kakashi would be back at his apartment by now, Hip resting against his kitchen counter, boiler hot and two mugs of jasmine tea sat on the baren tabletop, ready for claiming. But she he wouldn’t be gracing him with her presence tonight. His visiting hour had well since expired and she was annoyed with him.

She didn’t follow after Sasuke. She wouldn’t. She’d caused him enough turmoil for one night. She’d allow him space. He didn’t need to see her.

Naruto had turned around fully, blue eyes wide, pointing at her like she was some rare creature he’d just discovered.

“WHOA—WAIT—YOU’RE KAKASHI-SENSEI’S SISTER?! Like, for real? You gotta be younger right? How come we’ve never met you? Do you also read those weird books? Can you do the eye thing? Hey, why don’t you wear a stupid mask!”

“...Naruto!” Sakura hissed, mortified emerald eyes flicking to the blonde, burning holes into his oblivious grin, before darting back to the soft faced, silver haired girl to her right, watching her as if she’d vanish if she blinked.

Zakka’s cheeks dimpled from the movement of pulling her lips into a polite smile. She’d spent her life perfecting polite.
Tone light, airy and soft. “Naruto, was it? … Yes. I’m Kakashi’s sister. yes, I’m real. Obviously, his younger sister – do I look close to 30? Well, I don’t get out much and your sensei is a private man. No, I don’t read those weird books. Yes, I can do the eye thing – no I’m not going to do it. And because a face as pleasing as mine has no business being smothered in cloth.”

Naruto lit up like she’d just told him she was a legendary beast summoner. Meanwhile Sakura’s silence sharpened, eye’s simmering, heavy with comparison.
She felt it in the way the girl’s gaze flicked over her; her hair, posture, clothing, her external calmness. The reality – A raging storm inside; barely holding it together.

Sakura’s shoulders tightened, features soured- and Zakka knew that look. She’d seen it directed at other women her whole life—women deemed a threat, even when they weren’t trying to be.

She could almost hear Sakura’s internal deduction:

Her hair is so shiny, I bet she doesn’t even have to diet, how does she get her eyelashes so dark without any make up… I don’t like her.

Not because of anything Zakka had said, likely because she looked like the version of herself Sakura wished she was. Confident, charismatic…magnetic without trying to be. 'If only she knew the half of it'
And because Sasuke had just walked out like he’d been punched in the ribs.

Zakka swallowed, throat tight. ‘Yeah…And that’

“I, um… it was nice to meet you both,” she offered. “Really. But I should go. Kakashi will be waiting.”

It wasn’t a lie, he would be…hopefully getting more annoyed by the second. Serves him right. But Kakashi’s apartment wasn’t where she knew her feet would take her.
She didn’t hang around to see if she had seemed convincing.

Sandaled feet hopped off the deck and into the street, feeling both sets of eyes follow her -Naruto’s brimming in bright curiosity, Sakura’s quiet, narrowed with uncomfortable resentment.

Once she was far enough not to be seen, she stopped. Hand braced on the side of a building, breath catching.

She couldn’t go home yet.
Not feeling like this, shaking, with her thoughts all tangled around the night’s events. She had moved toward her brother the second she’d spotted his gravity defying mop, irritation bubbling in her throat at him leading her on a wild goose chase for the better half of the day. She had dropped her mask, eyes trained only on him, unthinking, stupid. She hadn’t seen the others at first, not until the last syllables of her impulsive words cut through the November chill.

There he was…Sasuke.

‘And there I was worrying he’d be pissed I hadn’t arrived with the tea yet’

She replayed the way he’d gone still when he heard her voice, immediate chaos coursing through his bones...The way he’d stormed off, face cold as stone, shoulders stiff, not a single look back.

Of course he was furious. Had the shoe been on the other foot, she would have been too.

She had let this happen. Encouraged it to get messy, toyed with him and lured him into her games…Just to let it be revealed, in the open, under the noses of the closest thing he had to family - his team.

She understood. Hated that she did.
She knew he hated vulnerability.
And she’d let him give her pieces of himself, actively coaxed them out of him, without giving a single one back.

Zakka closed her eyes, legs starting to move, rhythmic and steady. The frost of winter kissed the street, and each fall of her foot sent a sting to her toes ‘It’s cold, should have worn warmer socks.’

She didn’t want to lose what they’d built.
The quiet nights. Their routine that she had pretended was still hers alone.

He had broken, trusted her enough to share his fragmented pieces on the night that meant the most to him.

‘God, I’m a dick’

She hadn’t realized how much she didn’t want to lose him…them-not until she felt the echo of his anger like it was her own.

She inhaled, slow and steady, trying to stitch herself back together.

‘You should have left him well alone, Zak’

She stayed frozen for a long moment, toes catching a chill with the lack of movement, heart beating too loud, caught between regret and the painful knowledge that she had no one to blame but herself. She’d known anything built with Sasuke would be on borrowed time. And tonight, the debt had finally come due.

‘You can’t play games with broken toys, idiot’

Regret pulsed through her veins, dark thoughts hissing at the edges.
She was the broken one… selfish, stupid-and now she’d broken him too.

He didn’t deserve this…hadn’t deserved her.

*****

Cold air hit him the moment he had stepped off the terrace. Cheeks raw from the sudden temperature shift as he surged away from the warmth of the heater and into the wall of icy November air.

Good.
It gave him something sharp to breathe through. His steps hit the street too hard, gait edging on reckless, shoulders of varying heights banged into his, hitching the fabric of his cloak and forcing it over his shoulder as he continued his punishing pace. Those that managed to catch the venomous look twisting his features shifted instinctively out of his way. He kept his head low, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.

His thoughts were murderous. Blurring back and forth between berating himself for being so utterly irresponsible, moronic even, and blinding rage, hot and white and wanting nothing more than to shove his fist through something.

He hated this feeling – so out of control. Reeling, nerves shattered because of something, someone, he hadn’t even cared about. The heat crawling under his skin. The tightness in his chest. The humiliation pulsing in the back of his throat.

Hatake.

Zakka Hatake.

The name dug into him, settling in his side like a blade with every step.
His quiet.
His routine.
His-No…

He had dropped his guard, allowed himself to find comfort too closely entangled with someone else. This, this is why he stayed cold. Curiosity leads to Attachment. Attachment leads to loss. He had known this, told himself it on repeat and yet his walls stuttered and here he was. Imploding in on himself – weak.

‘Pathetic’

She had known. From that very first night “I have no interest in bothering you”.

‘Why would she…she knew who I was- Didn’t need to pry. Would have already heard about the Land of Waves from Kakashi- Tch’

And she had chosen not to tell him.

His fists curled so hard his nails broke skin. He felt the sting of the agitated flesh and pushed harder into them.

An offended gasp: the faceless stranger flinched as Sasuke’s shoulder slammed into theirs. He didn’t notice, his eyes unseeing, Sharingan itching to be activated, taunted by the vicious swirling of his chakra.

He replayed the moment in the restaurant once more -Kakashi saying her name like it was obvious, second nature.

He’d liked not knowing. Had been so close to admitting he’d almost been enjoying the dynamic between them, the lack of expectation, the way she treated him like a person instead of a legacy or a warning.

He realised in that moment why his anger burned so hot, why his fury raged, over something as ridiculous as a name…

He had begun to trust her.

He willed that thought to finish him off – burst out of his throat and drown him in his own blood. ‘How pathetic’

By the time he reached the edge of the village, the crowds had thinned, and emotion pulsed steady through his veins. The path to the cliffs tugged at him like a habit he no longer wanted to claim.

His thoughts buzzing with self-loathing, his feet took direction from themselves; He went anyway.

Even furious, his feet chose the familiar route. The climb felt longer. Path the same narrow track twisting through the trees, roots clutching at his boots- tonight every step grated against him. By the time he reached the clearing, the moon was high, the air sharp with frost and wet leaves, undisturbed.

Her fallen tree.
The open drop.
Endless dark below.

Sasuke stood at the edge for a long moment, breathing hard through his nose. His hands curled further in his pockets, until the fabric strained and broken skin became bedded under his nails.

Zakka Hatake.

He’d so desperately wanted to know who she was. Now that he did-

He sat on a discarded log, bark rough beneath his palms, and tried not to think. He failed.

She had known… All along.

Who he was. What he carried...

He should’ve seen it - that quiet confidence, silver hair…those eyes. He should’ve known. Instead, he’d let himself think she was just… someone. Someone separate from everything.

His jaw locked tight.

It Infuriated him that the only place he could think straight was here - in the shadow of her silence. And yet as the air from the valley stung his lungs, his pulse dropped its pace.

Rage began to give way to numbness. He welcomed it; and when he finally stood, his stomach remained settled.

He turned toward the tree’s; shoulders stiff but no longer carved from painful tension. He’d had his fill of the cliffs; he was ready to put as much distance between himself and this place as he could.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me’

Half claimed by shadow, half exposed beneath the moon’s soft glow.

‘Zakka Hatake.’

She didn’t move closer. That steady, patient gaze that made him feel seen and cornered all at once.

He stopped.

The air between them still, cold.

“You followed me,” he said flatly.

Her voice was quiet. “I didn’t, I-.”

His eyes narrowed.

He looked away, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Features blank, eyes sharp, tension visible in her own jaw.

“It was my spot first… remember?”

His Sharingan flared behind his glare, begging him to set it free. Steely eyes fell shut, a heavy sigh released from her lips. She winced inwardly as his anger seemed to vibrate in the space between them.

Rage renewed, his voice was cutting “Maybe it shouldn’t be anymore.”

She nodded. Small and soft; Accepting.

“Yeah, maybe”

He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him again. “You’re angry.” He froze. A beat passed. Smouldering eyes found hers, bore into them, such a stark contrast to the ice in his tone.

“Observant as ever - family trait, I guess?”

She took a careful step back - putting space between them, allowing him to leave without pressure if he so wished to. “You feel betrayed.”

His head snapped toward her. “You think you know how I feel!?”

She didn’t flinch.  Silence stretched.

The wind tugged at her hair, catching in the moonlight, tangling around her neck, a noose of silver strands.

Finally, he said, low and rough, “You should’ve told me.”

She nodded once, steel eyes finding the dirt at his feet. “Probably.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Her eyes met his once more- steady, unguarded. “Because I liked that you didn’t care who I was. Expectations are exhausting and it was… easy, not being ‘Kakashi the copy ninja’s’ little sister for a while.”

The words landed somewhere deep and unwelcome.

He didn’t have an answer.

He drew a slow breath, forcing his shoulders down, wrestling control back into every line of his body.

“You and Kakashi can keep your secrets. I don’t want to be part of it.”

“Alright,” she said simply.

He looked at her again, trying to read her - the ease in her posture, the lack of defence, the quiet acceptance. He’d rather she’d argued.

Without another word, he walked past her, into the dark between the trees.

She stayed where she was long after his footsteps faded.

The silence pressed heavier than usual - like the air itself was missing something.

She hadn’t expected him to stay. Not after that look in his eyes: Still… she’d allowed herself to hope.

A long, uneven breath slipped past her lips. She dropped onto the log, arms wrapping around her knees, gaze drifting to the village lights far below.

‘Solitude is safe… You can control the quiet, Zak’

It was strange, having the cliffs to herself again.

She’d always found solace in the silence. But tonight, it felt emptier than she remembered.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

She weaved between bodies, grey eyes empty, only partially seeing as her thoughts won out. The market buzzed around her, the smell of fresh bread, herbs, and something tangy from the fishmonger’s stall colouring the air. Zakka moved along the familiar rows, her steps felt heavier, less certain than usual. She would normally avoid visiting this time of day; when the winter temperature was its warmest and civilians bustled for their lunch time meals. She’d returned late, or early she would suppose, crawling into her bed only an hour before the sun was set to rise and so she’d missed her usual early morning window, forced to face Konoha head on.

She scolded herself for sleeping. She hadn’t needed this exposure, not with her emotions so unruly, so dangerously close to the surface.

The anniversary of his death was approaching, and she felt it already, a low thrum in her chest. Each memory threatened to break her, each heartbeat a thundering warning. She clenched her fingers around the basket’s handle, trying to anchor herself, but the effort made her pulse spike. The movement earned a pinch at her wrist. dull eyes dropped, catching a splatter of dried blood on her skin – Hers. She’d obviously missed it when cleaning up in the early hours of the morning.

She’d taken a mission yesterday. A simple tracking mission, but of course they never stay simple. The first in nearly a year. She’d requested to go alone. Danzo had refused, of course, as he always did and like fate repeating itself, they’d lost one of their own. She’d taken the mission to give her punishment purpose; but watching flesh tear from bone, the mangled remains of a boy not much older than her, crumple noisily to the dirt had done nothing to ease emotional her overwhelm.

It was freshly December and a week since she had sent Sasuke running. Sasuke, her father, the drowning guilt that had been swallowing her in relation to both events had been too much to sit with. After days of being alone with her thoughts, the cliffs had begun to feel more like exile than freedom. Shaking fingers had sought the porcelain surface of her old wolf mask. Off white, a singular slash of crimson paint swirling across the left-hand side, bleeding into the eye hole on the right – the whole thing a dirty shade of grey from the sheet of dust that had settled upon it. The violence had meant to stop her feeling, no longer human, an asset – weapons didn’t have time to feel.

A montage of turmoil flashed behind her eyes as her feet moved on muscle memory.

White hair swollen with blood. Eyes darker than night, narrowed in betrayal. Brown hair spilling from the underside of a monkey mask – the red adorning it, not paint like hers, but fresh blood.

Her pulse thundered as swallowing became impossible.

‘Don’t Zak -Not here. Not now. Swallow it the down -Not. Now!’, Her breath stuck in her chest, suffocating her in plain sight. The edges of her vision blurred, stinging eyes threatening to betray her. Panic rose like smoke in her throat, demanding attention, and for the first time in a year she felt the fragile grip of logic slipping.

She forced in a long, uneven breath, a sharp pain in her lungs her reward, and pushed herself forward, scanning the stalls, picking up a tomato, putting it down, rearranging the aubergines as if it would somehow calm her.

A flash of midnight hair caught her periphery.

‘Shit’

Moving through the crowd, eyes sharp, posture rigid, the tension in him radiating outward, thankfully unaware of her unfortunate presence.  

Sasuke Uchiha.

Time stalled. Her already ragged breath stuttered, her palms damp against the handle of the basket.

‘Not here. Not here. Breathe.’

She felt the sting of moisture coat her eyes as she realised her walls were truly collapsing -She had lost control of her own storm. The cliff, Sake, curious obsidian eyes following the swing of silver hair.

‘-Absolutely not. Snap the fuck out of it Zakka’

She blinked. Hard. Steel eyes opened again a beat later, clear and sharp. She forced life back into her smile, clasped her hands aggressively in front of her in feigned politeness -a reset - and pushed forward until the fabric of her winter cloak teased the edge of the vegetable vendor’s stall.

*****

He had told himself he wasn’t following her. Twice, in fact as he paused near the edge of the wooden market stalls; hidden by the swell of the late morning crowd.

He stood, hands shoved deep in his pockets, hood shadowing his face and expression cold enough that those around him gave him a cautionary sidestep.

He wasn’t following her.

She’d moved through the crowd with her usual ease - light steps, loose shoulders, chin tilted in polite interest when thrown a morning greeting by the strangers around her. Anyone else would assume she was perfectly at home. But he wasn’t anyone else.

The tightness under her eyes, the smile that coloured her lips but not her face, a faint pinch of tension in her brows that hadn’t been there at the cliffs and that steely gaze… empty, dead behind her lashes.

She looked … Not like she had with him, and he hated how quickly he noticed the difference; that he noticed it at all. Seethed at how naturally his eyes tracked her annoying silver hair, and how quickly his mind jumped to wondering what plagued hers.

She approached a vegetable vendor- a loud man with a voice that grated even from a distance. He watched her pause, hands folded politely in front of her, before she stepped forward, waiting her turn to speak.

She didn’t get it.

“Ah Miss! … you’re Kakashi-San’s little sister, yes? Is he feeling better? Please- please, take these aubergines as thanks – On the house…We’re so lucky to have him around, keeping the village safe…A prodigy of the leaf!” Steel faltered as her jaw clenched. She pushed into it, using the tension to widen her smile. She was good at this. To an untrained eye she appeared entirely sincere. His mouth fill with bitterness at the thought.

‘Zakka Hatake…You really are a great liar’

The vendors bright chuckle boomed across the street, coaxing an inward flinch of annoyance from Sasuke. “Are you a shinobi miss?” He continued without letting her answer, talking at her rather than to her. ‘Shame – I wouldn’t mind knowing that answer myself’

“Big shoes to fill, huh?” Another oblivious laugh, a chubby elbow raised and reaching across the stall; knocking against Zakka’s harshly in a motion presumably meant to be friendly. Her eyes stayed fixed, body unmoved by the motion. “Never mind girl, leave our safety to that brother of yours – you’re a pretty thing, you find yourself a good man to be your husband and keep Kakashi-San well fed!”

Zakka’s smile didn’t falter. But even without his Sharingan, Sasuke saw the flinch.
Barely a twitch in her fingers.

The vendor continued, forcing the aubergines into her basket when her arms failed to reach to take them willingly from him. Piling on praise she didn’t ask for, listing Kakashi’s accomplishments while she stood there – appearing smaller with each compliment that wasn’t meant for her. “You must be proud,” the vendor finished, fat face flushed with admiration for someone else.
A beat. For a second Sasuke questioned his knowledge of her, half expecting her take one of the god forsaken aubergines and smash it over the man’s balding head. His gut told him she wouldn’t – not here, with eyes on her.

Maybe if it was him, at the cliffs.

‘Sure, she’d have no problem with it then’

‘-Stop it, Sasuke’

“Very,” she replied. Soft, smooth, as if the word didn’t scrape something raw on the way out.

He forced his teeth apart. Hadn’t realised his jaw had been so tightly clenched.

He’d heard similar tones his whole life –

“How old are you dear – eight? Oh, Itachi was a chunnin at your age. You’ll get there!”
“Itachi’s little brother? Then you have so much potential.”
“Your brother is a Uchiha prodigy. How is your Sharingan control coming along?”

It changed nothing… but he recognized the emptiness in her eyes.

“Expectations are exhausting… and it was easy, not being ‘Kakashi’s little sister’ for a while.”

She paid, bowed politely, then stepped away from the stall silently.

She moved through the market with the same patient politeness she’d shown the vendor, slipping between crowds effortlessly, with the skill of someone used to shrinking their presence. Sasuke stayed back, blending into the shade cast by an awning. As her silver hair broke free from the hustle of the crowd, his gaze struggled to break free from watching her. Her feet carried her away from the village, basket held neatly in front of her as she followed the path taking her back beyond the Uchiha Compound…to where her home supposedly waited.

He wasn’t following her.

But as he navigated the shadows at a safe distance his eyes continued to sweep over her form. The further she got from the buzz of the village, the quicker her feet fell. Out here, she moved differently -the careful composure falling away with each step, stripped away by something human. ‘Vulnerable.’

His chest tightened.

Once past the fork in the road that led him home, she finally slowed. Froze. A breath sucked in hard enough that even from his spot in the shadows, he couldn’t miss the way her body expanded as she held it in her lungs. Then without warning, without allowing the breath loose, she lurched into the narrow alleyway that opened to her right. Something about the movement made his pulse jump. Any trace of her usual stealth, gone.

He edged forward, slow, silent.

 Her back pressed against the wall; hair forced up in silver tendrils, trapped between the hood of her cloak and the hard stone holding her up. Hands grappled at her throat, long fingers wrapping around the exposed flesh as her head fell back, chin lifted, eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling. His stomach twisted. Her breathing became ragged, desperate - attempts at control failing against the tide of something he knew all too well.

A panic attack.

He knew the signs intimately.

He froze.

Panic. Waves of it, untamed and raw. For a heartbeat, he was seven again, on his knees in the ruins of his clan compound, unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to be anything but a shaking failure trapped inside his own skin.

Her fingers curled in, nails digging into her skin. She bent at the waist, knee’s bending, breath hitching- one sharp, broken inhale, then another. Her form sunk to the floor, dirt coating the back of her cloak, white knuckled hands found their way to her jaw, covering her mouth, no doubt an attempt to cease the strangled rasps escaping her; before a curtain of silver blocked her from his view, her forehead meeting her knees with more force than sensible.

Sasuke’s throat tightened. His Sharingan whirred, crimson red – when it had activated, he didn’t know.

He wasn’t prepared for this. He’d thought -he didn’t know what he’d thought. That she was careless, manipulative. That she was reckless enough to dupe him and then walk away without looking back.

Not this.

Not human.

Not trembling, gasping, folding in on herself like the shell of a person that had been holding everything together far too long.

“Expectations are exhausting… and it was easy, not being ‘Kakashi’s little sister’ for a while.”

He swallowed hard. It had sounded dramatic to him then; self-serving excuses. But watching her now, so small, so stripped-down and exposed -

He understood.

Too well.

They saw her an extension of Kakashi, just as everyone had seen him in Itachi’s shadow. A constant, suffocating proof of inadequacy.

His fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, he wanted to step forward. Lift the nails from her flesh. Ease the shaking. The hurting.

The feeling surged, instinctive…unwelcome. He crushed it as soon as it had come.

The panic receded slowly, ragged breaths evening out into shaky, deliberate inhalations. When her head lifted, eyes finally opened, they were wet, filmed with the same tears that stained her cheeks, thin wisps of silver turned a deep grey as they clung to the blotches staining her face.

She dragged herself back up the wall, the stone becoming a crutch as shaking hands gathered her basket from the ground; stupid aubergines forced back in shakily. Every movement spoke of exhaustion, of focus strained to the point of trembling. Her palms found purchase on the stone, guiding her as she made her way round to the front of the house. Legs once so steady, shook as they climbed the narrow steps.

Keys jingled for too long - her hands unsteady, shaking against the cold metal. With the Sharingan activated the glint of winter sun on engraved metal was clear as she struggled.

 ‘ZH’

 The lock resisted, her movements clumsy, until finally the door swung open and sandalled feet rushed to step inside.

Guilt dug into him.

He shouldn’t have followed her. He shouldn’t have seen that.

He shouldn’t feel … Anything.

He stepped back. One slow retreating step, then another. His feet moving with purpose while his mind raced.

Her throat would be raw in the morning; he knew this confidently - from experience. She’d know to drink water, know that hydration would - No.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t.

But as his own door clicked closed behind him, something lodged under his ribs -tight, unwelcome, heavy.

He’d watched her shatter, almost found himself reaching for the pieces without understanding why.

And that was what bothered him the most.

Not her tears. Not the way she had looked so breakable.

But the proof that he still had the weakness to care - watching her break had made something within him crack.

*****

Zakka woke with the brittle heaviness of someone who hadn’t really slept. She’d drifted in and out of consciousness, her body exhausted but her mind unwilling to shut down.

The room was dim, the late morning sun low and dulled by a heavy mist. She blinked up at the ceiling. Her eyes burned. Her ribs ached from imploding the day before.

She breathed deeply, muscles screaming as they expanded with her chest. She thought of the cliffs, how sharp the air would feel in her lungs if she was there this moment. She exhaled.

The cliffs had been useless since the fight. She’d gone back to them anyway—night after night.

The wind still sang through the same branches; moon bleached her silver hair a deathly white but for the last seven days they had not brought her the same comfort they once did; in its place only numbness.

She swung her legs out of bed, ignoring the way her muscles protested. A heavy mission and a panic attack withing 48 hours of each other hadn’t done her any favours. Her body was tired. Her mind, more so.

But she couldn’t stay still.

She scrubbed a hand over her face and pushed herself to her feet. Unable to face her usual morning routine, sore arms scooped her favourite oversized jumper. Deep purple and fleeced on the inside. She paid no mind to the bruises staining her legs - less than 2 days old but already muted yellows and dull browns- as she pushed them through the fabric of her trousers. She’d shower tonight, after another futile visit to the place she so longed to call home again, the way she once had.

She passed the day sketching at her desk, charcoal swirls of darkness and mist coating her fingers as they came to life on the parchment before her. Tea in hand, responsibilities at bay. Night had fallen before she made to leave, later than usual, the pull less magnetic now, knowing only silence would greet her.

With the squeak of her sandals and the jingle of her keys, steady hands opened her door – only to jolt to her sides in genuine surprise.

Water.

The expensive kind, bottled in glass, not plastic.

Cold. Condensation still clinging to the sides.

Placed carefully, centred on the wooden slat as though whoever left it didn’t want it to fall.

She stared at it for a long moment.

No note.

No signature.

No shred of evidence left.

Too practical to be sentimental. Too subtle to be friendly. Far too careful to be casual.

‘I guess he clocked me yesterday after all…All the way to my house, apparently’

Her mind should have been reeling. Shame, rage, betrayal, panic. He’d seen her break…truly break. She should have been mortified, disgusted at the idea of him knowing she too was capable of being human. Instead, a humourless laugh huffed past her dry lips.

‘I guess fair’s fair … Show me yours, I’ll show you mine …Maybe we really ARE the same kind of broken, Pretty Boy’

Her fingers closed around the bottle.

Equal footing.

Zakka exhaled slowly, the breath shaky but whole.

She lifted the bottle to her forehead for a moment, letting the coolness press into her skin, grounding her as goosebumps spread across her neck. Then she tucked it under her arm and stepped off the porch.

Her steps weren’t quiet. Olive branch water or not, she had wronged him, and she didn’t expect him to return to the scene of the crime just yet… ever maybe.

The bottle of water he’d left swung loosely from her fingers, the only company she expected tonight. Her heartbeat was steady, but her stomach tightened the closer she came to the clearing.

She stepped through the veil of branches, the fog of the day remained thick, the moon barely peeking from its clutches.

Her feet stilled.

Sitting on the trunk… Her trunk, lean legs dangling, reaching further toward the valley than hers ever did, arms loosely crossed over his chest. Moonlight carved the sharp lines of his face, shadowed his eyes, caught in the thick fall of his hair.

He didn’t look up.

He’d been here long enough to settle into stillness.

Zakka’s breath stuttered in her chest.

Her fingers tightened on the neck of the bottle in her grasp, rolling, fidgeting, grounding. Her voice came out lower than she meant, threaded with nerves she hoped he wouldn’t hear.

“You’re in my spot, Uchiha.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t turn. A flicker of panic rippled through her.

‘Too soon, idiot. Using his name Zakka- why don’t you just go slap him in the face instead- I should-‘

“Yeah, well…”

A faint taunt, dry and familiar, eased into his tone as his head finally tilted her direction.

“You’re late.”

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

A small, relieved smile tugged at her mouth. She raised the bottle slightly.

“I was hydrating.”

An unaccusatory acknowledgment - a small, unpressured thank you for the water they both knew he’d abandoned at her door. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes as his peripherals tracked her. He shifted on the trunk. Just barely. A movement so subtle it would be denied in a moment should it be brought to attention, but she felt the invitation all the same. A crisp wind crossed the clearing, ruffling unruly locks of hair, midnight and silver alike, and stealing the exhale of silent appreciation that filtered through her lips.

She didn’t take the space.

But her eyes softened, the smile dimpling her cheeks reaching her eyes for the first time in over a week. Walls lowered enough for him to know she’d noticed; that she respected his offer enough to let him keep his space intact. She took two steps closer, steely eyes trained on her feet, silver strands tickling her nose with the motion as delicate hands swung the neck of the bottle upwards, placing the base on the trunk near where she’d normally sit. With her hands now free, they circled backwards around her waist, clasping behind her back; fingers fidgeting together with nervous anticipation.

‘Good god, get on with it, Zak-‘

A deep gulping breath. Her lungs stung at the cold and her throat threatened to splutter. She pushed through it, willing her voice to stay firm, to hide the waver of nerves in her chest that she refused to give explanation to.

“I didn’t lie,” she said, voice steady (thank God) and low.  His gaze flickered, but not to her. A shift of his features, a blink of midnight orbs from the horizon before him to the edge of the trunk to his right where her bottle of water sat “I omitted, but I had no ill intent…I did know you, and I should’ve given you the option to know that…and know me in return.”

His jaw tightened, not with anger; just listening, taking in her words and processing them silently.

“I had opportunities, and I didn’t take them. So…”

Her eyes fell shut, lashes brushing her cheeks, skin cold form the night. Chin raised, eyes open once more, her steely gaze level and firmly on him; she swung back on her heels once, exhaling through her nose and forcing the words into existence before she found reason to swallow them.

“Hi. My name is Zakka Hatake, and I’m an idiot.”

Then - because she had committed and she wasn’t a quitter- she held out her hand. An introductory handshake. Ridiculous but genuine.

A beat.

Her outstretched arm began to hesitate; its confidence shook as she questioned whether to remove her hand from the air.

‘Oh boy…You really are an idiot’

Sasuke stared at it. Suspicious. He chewed his cheek, obvious in the way his jaw muscles flinched and those eyes, darker, deeper than the night itself, met hers, searching, probing so deeply she was sure he could read every one of her moronic thoughts. He truly could see through her if he wanted to. Those damn eyes, the intentional way in which he shifted them over her face…. yes. If he ever learned how to utilise them fully, she’d be done for.

He took her hand.

The moment of skin meeting skin thrummed through her. She remembered the firmness of his shoulder against hers, that one brush of trousered thigh against thigh. Nothing had prepared her for the softness of his hand around hers. She scolded herself as she felt the flush race up the back of her neck, the heat of embarrassment, nerves and the whisper of something else paint the tips of her ears pink. Her only solace being the hue of colour mirrored on his own.

Her fingers grasped his hand, firm and as steady as she could manage. She didn’t let go.

“How about we equal the field?” she murmured, hand still wrapped in his. “I’ll give you twenty questions of your choosing. I know you; here’s a chance to know me... Ask away, Pretty Boy.” His nick name felt foreign on her tongue, not dripping in jest like it had done previously…soft this time, almost affectionate. Without its usual cloak of teasing, it felt scarily intimate as it left her lips.

The tips of his ears burned a shade brighter, before his fingers twitched in hers and he let go.

A blink. A tiny shift of his eyes. A breath that barely left his chest. The fingers of his untouched hand curling once on the bark beside him. Then, the faintest scoff; dry, unoffended.

“You know my whole life story,” He broke the charged silence, quietly “And all I get is twenty questions?” A tiny smirk as his chin dipped. Midnight locks blocking his eyes from her view. A glimmer of Uchiha humour filled the air between them once more, easing the breath caught in Zakka’s throat.

Words left his lips, tone unaccusatory but firm.

“Why do you come here?” She huffed a quiet laugh, the sound almost teasing.

“Because it’s quiet.”

A beat - A glance at him.

“Well… it was.”

His mouth ghosted toward a smirk. And so, the game began.

Sasuke’s thumb tapped once against the bark beside him; a restless habit he probably didn’t know he had. His eyes hadn’t left her face since releasing her hand, gaze sharpened now, focused and intent.

His second question came quieter than the first, but heavier, more weighted. Measured.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who you are. That you knew who I am.”

The wind tugged at the strands of his hair. He didn’t blink.

She let out a slow breath.

“Like I said- expectations are exhausting.”

He didn’t move, but something in his brow pulled tight.

Recognition? Understanding?

She knew he had experience of living in another’s shadow, born into shoes deemed far too big to fill. Her voice gentled, barely above the wind.

“It was refreshing…. Not being Hatake first and Zakka second.” She shifted her hands behind her back once more, fingers hooking together.  Grounding. Her tell when being vulnerable – honest –there for the taking should anyone be looking for it.

“You didn’t see me as someone’s sister., or wasted potential, you just saw… me.” He swallowed - a small, sharp movement.

“What did you think I would do?” he asked quietly. “If I’d known?”

Her answer came with no hesitation. “Leave.”

He stiffened and she felt the urge to reassure him, that she didn’t expect it of him alone.

“It’s what people do,” she added, fingers still twirling out of sight. “They leave.”

Her smile was vulnerable, self-directed. Exasperation at her own pathetic feelings.  “And I didn’t want you to leave yet.”

She saw the word land like a physical hit. Yet.

His breath faltered; barely - but she caught it. She always did.

Sasuke glanced down at the trunk, where her bottle sat a careful distance from him, placed like an offering. Like a boundary she still respected.

“How long have you known about me?” Clipped, undeniably curious despite himself. She hummed, eyes flicking skyward as if counting stars.

“Long before you ruined my quiet.”

His inhale sharpened -offended, amused, maybe both, his following tone deadpan. “You’re so dramatic” Rose lips turned upwards in a smirk.

“Kakashi really is your brother?”

She snorted. “Yes.”

“Does he know about… this?”

His voice dropped on this. It wasn’t defined, didn’t need to be. Always two steaming mugs, Sake bottles shared, the water bottle left at her door… The hand She hadn’t quite wanted to let go. She knew what was meant.

Her answer didn’t hesitate, tone firm and final.

“No.”

His shoulders eased minutely, less than a fraction to the untrained eye; that subtle release of tension she recognized instantly. He didn’t want Kakashi involved in whatever existed between them, undefined as it was. Good. Neither did she.

“Favourite colour.”

Zakka tugged up the sleeve of her jumper, revealing the deep violet fabric beneath. The shade was dark, almost black in the moonlight, but unmistakably purple.

“Purple.”

He looked at it longer than necessary. Long enough for her to feel heat crawl up the back of her neck once again.

His gaze didn’t stay on the colour. It drifted. To her wrist. Her hand. The soft underside of her forearm.

Her pulse stumbled.

His next question came slower than the others, mulled over in his thoughts, forced out through the barricade in his throat before he could change his mind.

“That night…”

His eyes didn’t leave the horizon.

“…the anniversary. You knew.”

Zakka didn’t flinch. She had expected him to ask.

“Yes.”

A long beat.

The wind curled between them, cold and sharp.

Her answer hung there, heavy but unadorned, no excuses, no softening, no defensive explanation. Her eyes swept over his face. He refused to meet her gaze, though she knew he felt it. She had expected him to appear wounded by her honesty, braced for it even. It didn’t come.

He exhaled slowly, letting the truth settle into the quiet.

“Favourite Season?”

The shift was abrupt but not graceless. A well-practiced Uchiha escape route from emotional depth.

Her answer emerged softer than before, wrapped in a melancholy he hadn’t heard from her before.

“Autumn,” she said. “Autumn rain.”

He turned to her; his eyes meeting hers head on; eyes narrowed in quiet curiosity.

Something in him softened. Quietly.

“You don’t live with Kakashi?”

“No.” She froze the moment the word left her mouth; too sharp, too defensive. Her fingers tightened behind her back. Her shoulders stiffened, her breath skipped once.

Sasuke noticed, she knew he did. With his eyes boring into her face like that, of course he noticed.

Uncomfortable silence shivered between them.

“You and Kakashi…You’re not close?”

She exhaled. A long, steadying ribbon of breath.

“That’s… complicated.” Steely eyes found his, guarded, a silent plea not to pry further. ‘Don’t go there’

“Not for tonight.”

He read the room, and he let it go.

“So, you live alone?”

“Yes… Since I was eight.”

His eyes flicked sharply toward her. Not in disbelief, but in what appeared to be recognition. His eyes showed no pity. She knew he’d been doing the same since he was seven. Understanding was clear on his face.

He gave a single, silent nod. She matched it without thinking

 “You like it? Being alone?”

“…No.”
Then, gently, honest: “But solitude is safe. I grew up alone- you learn fast that you can only trust yourself.”

He swallowed once. Hard. Old bruises echoing.

“That night you got me drunk…”

Her eyebrow arched. “You got yourself drunk. I didn’t pry your mouth open.” He ignored her.

“You said… ‘people do it, they just lay down and die when life gets too much.’”

She flinched. His voice dropped.

“You know loss too? That’s why you stayed?”

 … “That’s two questions, silly.”

He glared. She smirked, victorious and petty. “Yes,” she answered at last. “I know loss.”

A long beat stretched between them.

“But no. That’s not why I stayed.”

His eyes narrowed - curiosity and surprise obvious in his obsidian orbs. He hadn’t expected her to elaborate. ‘Well, aren’t you in luck, Pretty boy. I’m feeling generous tonight’. She fed his curiosity before he wasted a further question on prying. “I stayed,” she said, “because you wear your pride like a purity ring.” He scoffed; short and indignant, defensive on instinct.

she wasn’t finished.

“But you needed something… someone. And I knew enough to know your pride would never have let you admit it. So, I didn’t ask you to.”

The scoff faltered.

His breath caught, almost imperceptibly.

“And the Sake?”

A quiet chuckle slipped out of her - soft, real, unguarded in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from her.

“Thought I’d need it,” she admitted. “Turns out you did.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“You’ve drunk before?”

Another laugh… humourless this time. A flash of embarrassment hidden underneath. Human “Yes. More times than I care to share.”

She watched him absorb her words, brow pinching with something unfamiliar to her.

“How are you always so…” She held her breath as steely eyes watched him search for the right words “in control?”

She stared at him. Really looked at him, as if the eyes staring back at her hadn’t watched her fall apart just the day before. “I’m not.” She reached to the water between them, toyed with the bottle cap -the one he gave her after watching her implode outside her home. “Falling apart is expensive. Putting yourself back together is worse. You can’t control other people… but you can control yourself.”

A beat.

“Solitude is safe.” Another. “Solitude and sake.”

Silence. Heavy. 

She felt rather than saw his jaw tense with caution as he rolled the next question on his tongue. When his voice came it was low, hushed as if expecting a flight response if he spoke any louder. “Yesterday… wasn’t your first panic attack?”

She froze. Just for a second. “…No.”

He didn’t push. Her eyes thanked him.

“You’re not a genin.”

She stared at him, deadpan. “That’s not a question, Sir. That’s a statement.”

His ears flared red, jaw clenched; the muscles in his cheek flinching under the movement.

“Fine. Are you a genin?” A mischievous glint, steely eyes revelling in his discomfort. “No... I’m not a shinobi. I’ve never been to the Academy. I hold no rank. Don’t waste your questions guessing what I am.”

He obliged.

“Okay, why did you let me stay… that first night?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”  Her answer was immediate. Unadorned and honest in a way that made his chest tighten.

Their eyes met. Neither elaborated.

“Are you… dangerous?”

He regretted it as soon as it left his mouth; it was written all over his face. It had sounded stupid, he knew that, but it was something he had obviously needed to ask.

She smiled; slow, crooked. “I have a tendency to make people’s blood boil and a mean right hook if needed. But no, you need not worry about me being dangerous”

Something unspoken moved through him - relief, irritation at his own question, something else he wouldn’t name and that Zakka couldn’t place.

He swallowed once, looked away, then forced out a question that looked as if it had been eating at him since the start:

“…Why did Kakashi never mention you?”

Silence rippled over the clearing.

‘Offt…thanks for the gut punch Pretty Boy ’

When she spoke, her tone was quiet. Self depreciation laping at the edges, thick with acceptance “I guess... I wasn’t worth mentioning”

He moved to ask another, to wash the bitterness of her last answer away. But she beat him to it. Her tone; jest hidden under feigned annoyance…the way he remembered it. The way it should be.

“That’s twenty-one, Pretty Boy,” she murmured. “You’re terrible at counting.” She nudged him lightly.

“So, scoot up- you’ve made me successfully uncomfortable. I deserve compensation.”

He moved. Just enough.

She climbed effortlessly onto the trunk beside him; close enough for thigh to brush thigh, shoulder to shoulder.

He didn’t pull away.

She didn’t look at him when she asked, voice low, soft, steady:

“Why did you come here tonight?”

A long beat.

His answer was quiet. Guarded but honest and for a fleeting moment she felt her eyes widen in surprise.

“Same reason you did.”

She swallowed. Because he was right. And he knew it, they both did. Yet he’d let her keep her dignity by not saying it outright.

Silence stretched, eyes searching the others as if solving code until finally Zakka’s brightened; forced mischief reflecting back at the Uchiha once more.

“Ah…you burnt your ramen and filled your apartment with smoke too, huh?”

A laugh…an actual laugh. The sound reverberated through her ears, genuine and unguarded. Her eyes swept over his face, the crinkle by his eye, the slightest dimple in his cheek. She didn’t have the Sharingan, but it was an image that would fill her mind for years to come, instantly a sound she would recognise anywhere. Sasuke’s laugh was melodic and beautiful. In the moonlight, unguarded and aware of her in ways few people truly were – so was he.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

The house was quiet in the way only this house ever was, the walls silent with memory.

Kakashi leaned against his kitchen counter; ankles crossed, one hand buried casually in his pocket while the other held a mug of jasmine tea close to his chest. Steam curled around the dark smudge of his visible eye. His Sharingan remained hidden behind his headband even within the walls of his own home.

Before him, a large two-seater sofa, the solid back staring back at him - only a set of feminine ankles, crossed just like his, and the sandalled tips of toe’s visible from his vantage point. Zakka lay slouched on his sofa. so low only her head and shoulders brushed the backrest, silver hair a halo of tangles, pressed against the faded lilac fabric. Her ankles crossed lazily, propped up on the coffee table, hands clasped over her stomach, her own mug of jasmine tea balanced precariously on her ribs.

Kakashi sipped.

A swallow of jasmine before his voice continued, laced with the same disarmingly bored tone he so often weaponised, “I have a suspicion that the Chūnin Exams will be announced soon… A couple months maybe. Take place next summer I imagine, if the organisers have any sense”

She didn’t move. She watched her tea slosh gently with the rise and fall of her breath, steely gaze dulled. Outwardly bored looking, inwardly somewhere else entirely.

Jasmine tea.
Her father’s favourite.

Kakashi continued, seemingly unaware of any thoughts of the past. Of jasmine tea accompanying family dinner, and that same flowery scent woven into long white hair. If he noticed the shift in her air, he pretended he hadn’t.

She blinked at her tea once more.

“If they do, Team 7 will be put forward. Though…” he exhaled through his nose, “Sakura’s not ready. Physically, or mentally. The boys will carry her. Naruto through nothing but pure tenacity... Sasuke- “.

Her thoughts flinched, unprepared, at the word. When had the topic managed to reach Team 7. Her face stayed blank. “he’s progressing well. He’ll carry them if needed.”

An affectionate huff into his tea, the air audible from the lack of mask covering his handsome face. “He is the one on the team, with a whole brain cell.” She said nothing, gave no effort to move or engage with her lazy toned brother but her ears had undeniably sharpened since the mention of Sasuke’s name. He continued, talking more to his own thoughts as opposed to her, as he reprimanded himself “No, that’s not fair. Sakura is smart. Really smart, if she could only put her mind to training rather than making imaginary wedding plans”

Zakka huffed something like a laugh, a quiet confirmation that she was listening. Always quiet here.

He kept talking. She kept pretending not to dissociate at the smell of jasmine in the steam rising from her chest.

It was the only tea Kakashi made. The only person she’d allow to give her it. But she never drank it; She couldn’t stomach the taste since… but it soothed him. He’d never told her so, but she caught it in his demeanour; the way he always inhaled just a moment longer as the first wisp of steam rose, the close of his eyes as the familiar taste stroked his tastebuds. Fathers favourite. A staple weaved deeply in their childhood. The jasmine was a reminder of him, and Kakashi clung to it. Zakka would be happy if her tongue rotted into the ground before ever again tasting another leaf of jasmine, but she didn’t have the heart to taint his comfort with her hate for it.

Drinking his favourite tea, in his living room, in the house that was once hers too …she never stayed at Kakashi’s long. Too many ghosts...

Too many versions of Kakashi she didn’t recognise… Some she still hadn’t fully forgiven.

Her jumbled thoughts thinned when she heard it-Kakashi’s voice shifting by a hair.

“Hmm, Sasuke will adapt fine. He’s logical, fast. Less…" A pause. "Explosive than Naruto.”

Her eyes stayed trained on the warm liquid, swaying with each breath she took; fixed and unseeing. As his name echoed once more through her ears, images flickered uninvited across her mind.

A self-created version of Sasuke stepping in front of Naruto and Sakura, kunai drawn, eyes sharp enough to slice men open. Protecting his annoying, important people. The tension in his shoulders. The controlled fury, that quiet strength she had come to admire.

And then softer things. Real versions of Sasuke.

His eyes watching hers across the log, voice low, reluctant. The way he’d moved an inch, room just enough for her, the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers. Grounding, so intense, so… Sasuke.

She didn’t shake the thoughts away as she would have done not so long ago. Since that night at their cliffs, the water, the questions, their shared space atop the trunk that was once just hers; those eyes, trained on hers, open and intense -She had accepted that she was an idiot. An idiot that couldn’t help but appreciate the Uchiha. Silently, of course, in the thick confines of her skull only.

Kakashi was still talking.

“…But he’ll be rough on himself if they fail. He always is. Teamwork is instinctive for him in the moment, but, after…” Kakashi’s tone dipped into something almost thoughtful, “He spirals. Convinces himself he’s not strong enough. That reliance is weakness.”

Zakka’s voice cut through their shared space, firm, and even -

“You have a soft spot for the Uchiha.”

Not a question.

His mug faltered on its trajectory to his lips. ‘Nothing to be embarrassed about Kashi…that makes two of us’
A tiny flicker crossed his face, no doubt wishing he’d kept his mask on, despite her eyes not being on him.

He knew by now, she didn’t have to look at him to feel the stutter.

“He reminds you of you,” she added.

“Hm.”

Dismissive. Though he didn’t deny it.

Her eyes narrowed just pinch as she took a slow breath. Air held in her lungs, tea mug rising with a slosh as she kept the breath under her ribs for a beat.

Kakashi was wrong. Sasuke wasn’t like his younger self.
Not really. Sasuke was warm, even when he wrapped that warmth in thorns of ice.
He buried it deep, but he cared -too much- even when insisting he didn’t. His brooding was grief, not apathy.

Kakashi…Kakashi had once been cold enough to freeze whole lives; hers included.
Callous, Shut off, entirely unreachable.

Sasuke saw her.
Gave her space in his world without expectation or pressure.

For more years than she cared to acknowledge, Kakashi had been unable -or unwilling- to offer anything even close.

“Do you think Naruto is ready, Kashi?” she asked quietly.

Kakashi rolled his jaw, muscles in his neck tensing momentarily at her use of his childhood nickname. She scolded herself inwardly, at the shred of resentment within her thoughts she’d let slip out. They both knew good and well she only used that name when upset with him, only ever as an emotive punishment. He’d no doubt attempt to dissect it in detail later. When the house was his own again.

 For now, he ignored it, and considered her question none the less. “No. At least, not mentally.”
He sighed. “But he’s resilient. Fiercely protective. Corner him and he’ll claw his way-out one way or another.” A small exhale, even with her back turned, she could feel his eye narrow in thought. “He’s shown smarts before and he’s a good kid. He’ll come good eventually. Right now, he’s just…” He trailed off, searching. It was her voice that finished his sentence “…a lonely boy trying to convince the world he isn’t.”

He showed no surprise, only nodded once, a silent agreement.

From outside, a prickle of chakra ghosted her senses; recognised it from a few weeks back. She lifted the tea from her stomach, letting her feet drop from the table and replacing them with her mug – still full. She rose gracefully, sandals silent against the floors she would run over as a child. She crossed toward the window, Kakashi’s eye following her. With his mask discarded, the steam rose from his cup, blurring his features like a temporary disguise.

She rested a hip against the windowsill, shoulder finding the wall, forehead pressed lightly to the cold glass as she gazed out into the street.

Fog blurred the village in soft, shifting grey. Dull and dreary save for a slice of bright orange in the winter mist.

‘Naruto Uzumaki’

He bounded into the doorway of Ichiraku Ramen, clumsy, loud even with the glass barrier and distance between.

She had only met him once, but she’d heard the whispers; the rumours shared behind his back. She knew of the fox of course. The Forth had been Kakashi’s sensei. she had witnessed his turmoil over the events that allowed death to claim Minato and his wife; knew it had been down to the fox now sealed within the bounding blonde.

But she thought he seemed kind, genuine. Messy, without a doubt. Too honest for his own good.

Loud, and rude but…Lonely and sincere.

She understood the tragedy of a boy left to grow up without family.

She tilted her head, studying him like she might study a coded scroll.

“Yeah, he’s a good kid” she murmured softly, more to herself than to Kakashi.

He didn’t answer.
But she felt his gaze soften on her back as she watched Naruto disappear under the ramen curtain.

******

Ichiraku’s smelled like heaven, salt and victory.
Naruto wiped the last smear of broth from his chin, dropped his chopsticks with a clatter, and dug into his frog wallet.

And immediately felt his stomach drop.

“Huh? Wait - hold on -It’s in here. I know it’s in here-”

The coins weren’t there.

He shook the wallet.
He slapped it.
He shoved his entire hand inside like maybe there was a hidden compartment only accessible at moments of absolute desperation.

Teuchi leaned over the counter, already wearing that look, half patient, half “this again?”
“Naruto… do you have money today, or- You can pay tomor-”

“I DO!” Naruto shouted, slamming the frog purse on the counter like it were an accused criminal.; orange arm outstretched, finger pointed aggressively “Iruka-sensei gave me a coupon! A whole free bowl coupon! And anyway- I eat here so often you should be PAYING me- loyal customer discount, believe it!”

Customers nearby sighed. One woman shook her head, whispering loudly about “that boy again.”
Another man muttered something about “troublemaker.”

Naruto heard, he always heard the whispers. His teeth ground together. His irritation; unfair and familiar, grew fast.

“I HAD the money! It was right- RIGHT-”

He felt something rising.

A hot, ugly bubble under his ribs; anger, embarrassment, that sharp sting he never let anyone see.

‘Why was it always ME?’

Why did every mistake feel like proof to the world that they were right about him? The whispers always hit harder than they should’ve.

‘troublemaker’, ‘that boy again’.

Like they’d been waiting for him to slip, wanted him to fail.

He hated how fast it lit him up inside, how unfair it was that no matter what he did. No matter how hard he tried…people still looked at him like he was a problem waiting to happen.

He clenched the frog wallet tighter, nails digging into the fabric.

He wasn’t going to cry.

Not here…Not over ramen.

Not in front of people who’d love to see his stupid, orphan ass, break.

And then - A hand on his shoulder.

His whole body jerked, the shout dying in his throat like someone had pulled the cord.

Someone was pressed lightly against his left side, close enough that he felt their warmth even through winter clothes. A slender arm reached past him, smooth and sure, slipping money across the counter before his brain had had a chance to restart.

A pale wrist appeared from beneath a sliding black cloak. Soft lilac knit sleeves. And hair; silver, loose, brushing his cheek.

Naruto blinked. Hard.
Then turned his head so slowly it was almost comical.

‘Kakashi- Sensei’s sister? What was her name…Zak- Zakka!.

She didn’t say anything. Just offered Teuchi an easy smile. Kind, without judgement.

 Her fingers placed coins, exact and deliberate, then a little extra.

A tip. For his meal. ‘For me?’

Naruto felt his face go nuclear.
No one other than Iruka-Sensei had ever- EVER -paid for him. Not without a lecture, scolding words, or a heavy sighed followed by a disappointed “erghh, Naruto, honestly.” But Zakka…Zakka just squeezed his shoulder once, gentle, like settling a startled animal.

He wasn’t sure he breathed until she stepped back. And when she did step back. Crystalline eyes, blown wide swept over her face. He took her in. Really took her in, for the first time.

Kakashi’s sister sure was… pretty.

Not loud-pretty, not dressed-up pretty. A truly natural beauty.

Steel-grey eyes with deep blue flecks, framed by lashes too dark for her pale colouring. A cat-slant to their shape. Skin smooth and porcelain pale – almost as pale as Sasuke’s ghost like tone. A small, neat nose. Lips soft, faintly rose-tinted.
Nothing dramatic. And yet everything quietly striking.

She moved backward off the wooden platform, lifted a hand in a loose, almost lazy wave – ‘Heh, just like Kakashi-sensei’.  Casual and cool before she turned to walk into the lantern-lit street.

She made it two steps before -

“HEY—HEY ZAKKA—WAIT UP!”

He practically exploded off the stool, nearly tripping on his own feet before sprinting after her. She looked over her shoulder, surprised but amused, slowing her pace enough for him to catch up.

“Uh -thanks,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head so hard you’d think he was trying to scrub the embarrassment off his very scalp. “For the ramen. Really. Thanks. I, uh -didn’t expect -  I mean-”

She smiled, small and soft, like his awkwardness was a warm breeze instead of a mess. A melodic chuckle left her lips and rippled the cold air around them “It’s nothing. You’re welcome, Naruto-Kun”

They walked down the lantern-lined street, her steps unhurried, his bouncing.

“So, uh -Kakashi-sensei’s sister, huh?” he said, grin lopsided and eyes squinting with further embarrassment. “Don’t see you around much. Do you…not have friends?”

It came out horribly.
He heard it. She heard it.

He panicked -
She laughed again, easy and light…accepting in a way entirely foreign to him.

His ears burned hotter than molten rock, but he relaxed instantly, relief spilled out in a grin as they continued through the cool night.

Eventually they reached his building.

He pointed both thumbs at his chest. Grin toothy, unable to be stopped from spreading across his whiskered cheeks “Well, that’s me! I’ll see you around! And thanks again! You’re nothing like Kakashi-sensei -way nicer -he’s never paid for my ramen! Or even his, actually!”

He was halfway up the steps, rambling over his shoulder before turning sharply, hands cupping his mouth.

“HEY, ZAKKA -IT’S MY BIRTHDAY NEXT WEEK!”

She paused, bright eyes on him, as yet another flush began to paint his face. “That’s great, Naruto -happy early birthday?”

He froze, blushing deeper, suddenly much quieter. Such a rarity he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“I’m… uh… having a thing. A little gathering at Ichiraku. With friends. You probably know them. And it’s… um… not a big party or anything, but-”

His nerves broke into fast speech.

“You should come! Yeah, you should come! Ichiraku! Next Saturday! 7 p.m.!”

Before she could answer, he darted through the door in a whirl of excitement, the wood slamming shut behind him.

On the other side, he pressed his forehead to the door, a goofy smile spreading ear to ear.

‘Man, Kakashi’s sister is SO COOL’.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

A night of storms had left the morning air thick with moisture, and a thick grey curtain cloaked around Sasuke’s apartment.

He gathered his sandals from the rack, bending to secure them to his feet. He stood, the calloused skin of his fingertips brushing past the fabric at his ankles; his eyes narrowed, midnight brows pinched as his lip curled upward in a grimace – His sandals were still damp.

It had rained consistently from dusk until dawn. And in the hours that had followed dusk, Sasuke had been perched in the open, legs dangling over the edge of the world, side pressed against hers as the rain fell in icy drops. He’d had the good sense to wear a hooded cloak this time, but his lower legs had been left exposed to the elements, his sandals soaked within seconds.

He slid the apartment door shut behind him; nimble fingers turned the lock until it slotted into place with a soft click. The air inside still held the faint trace of green tea.

He bent to adjust the sodden strap of his sandal, knuckles brushing the glass bottle that waited by the threshold to be packed.

Water. The same kind he’d left for her.

His jaw went tight, fingers freezing at the memory that rose, unbidden and unwelcome:

Her form collapsed against the wall, breath weak and trembling.

Fingers clawing at her cheeks, leaving indents in their wake.
The bottle neck slipping through his palm as he set it beside her door with a soft clink.

Heat flared low in his chest. Irritating. Persistent.

‘Stupid.’

He shoved the bottle into his bag harder than needed and stepped outside. The cold morning air slapped his face, The bite welcome against his heated cheeks.  Cold feet followed his usual route toward Training Ground Five; posture straight, steps steady. Kakashi would be late, he saw no benefit in rushing.

His eyes scanned the slow-moving morning crowd. Vendors setting up, customers beginning to gather, Shinobi rushing to their missions.

He wasn’t searching. He was just…aware.

Definitely not looking for silver hair, quiet footsteps, or-

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

‘Ridiculous.’

A flash of obnoxious orange tore into his peripheral vision.
‘Tch, Naruto. Of course.’

He slowed immediately. Habit to fall back and assess the situation. And in this situation, the last thing he needed was Naruto’s booming shouts or Sakura’s annoying fussing before his brain had even warmed up.

His thoughts betrayed him, choosing that moment to remind him of Naruto’s too-loud declaration from two days ago, clumsy finger pointed in his face indignantly, voice louder than it had any business being considering he had been no further than 3 feet away from him.

“HEY TEME! – ITS MY BIRTHDAY NEXT WEEK, SAKURA WON’T COME IF YOU’RE NOT THERE SO YOU BETTER SHOW UP OR I’LL! –“.  He’d stopped listening then. ‘Ridiculous,’ as if he would waste his time sat at Ichiraku surrounded by noise, chaos, ramen and … whatever they were trying to pass off as friendship these days.

No. He wasn’t going.
He’d fit in some additional training. At least that’s what he told himself.

He gave a final disgruntled sweep of Naruto’s figure up ahead, an internal groan filling his head as Sakura’s pink head join the blonde, he cut down a side path before either one could spot him.

The clearing opened into the training field; a vast stretch covered in dew-heavy grass. Regrettably, Naruto had made it there before him.

“AHAHA, EAT THAT SASUKE!” Naruto yelled, tongue poked out as if he was still five years old. “I BEAT YOU!”

Sasuke ignored him. ‘He may as well still be five…Idiot’
Sakura perked up immediately, hands clasping in front her chest, cheeks flushed. “Oh, Sasuke-kun! Good morning- Did you sleep well – I have-” she sang, already on her feet and halfway toward him.

He didn’t acknowledge her either.

He crossed the field, usual blank look firmly on his face. He shrugged his cloak off as he went, letting the fabric fall to the grass before he lowered himself onto the make shift blanket near the old training posts.

The same ones Kakashi had tied them to.
The memory should’ve annoyed him.

It didn’t.

His own thoughts had become a much more irritating distraction lately.

His eyes met the winter sky, one knee bent, arms folded beneath his head.

Sakura talked at him. Naruto circled the training posts, yelling about something pointless. Sasuke tuned it out. Their usual morning routine.

Reluctantly, the last two weeks forced their way into his thoughts.
The Market.

The water.

“Hi. My name is Zakka Hatake, and I’m an idiot.”

Her hand in his.
Her voice, soft in the dark.
Her answering questions she didn’t owe him.

“I guess... I wasn’t worth mentioning”
Zakka. No longer just Kakashi’s sister. She’d offered him the uncomfortable pieces of her, and something had shifted.
He felt it like a bruise beneath his ribs.

He shut his eyes tight but the warmth prickling up his neck refused to leave.

*****

The time reached two hours after the agreed meeting hour – still Kakashi was nowhere to be found.

Sasuke hadn’t moved from the grass. Sakura still sat primly beside him, twirling a strand of her hair, bare knees flat against the earth

‘Stupid, her legs must be numb from the cold’. Naruto leaned against the training post closest to Sasuke; Arm wrapped around it for support as he dangled, closer still to the brooding Uchiha and still talking as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since dawn.

“…and THEN she swooped in -just paid for my ramen! No yelling! No lecture! -Nothing, just SWOOSH-money on the counter-”

Sasuke closed his eyes.

‘Ignore him.’

“…and she walked me home – Walked ME home! Can you believe that?! And she wished me happy birthday early-And did you know she’s SUPER pretty – You know, if they look anything alike, there’s NO WAY Kakashi-Sensei has buck teeth or fish lips –Her eyes even have these bits of blue in them and-”

Sasuke’s eyes snapped open. The movement gaining a startled look from Sakura who had been dreamily staring at his unaware face.

He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
But his entire body went taut, a drawn wire ready to snap.

Naruto kept rambling, swinging now from the arm cradling the training post he was once tied to.  Oblivious.

“And she is SO much cooler than Kakashi-sensei. Way cooler! She paid for me because my frog wallet tried to EAT my coupon again-And she like, leaned over me, -and her hair was RIGHT next to my face like THIS and-”

He slammed his palm to his cheek dramatically.

“-and it smelled like pine trees! And it was so soft; way softer than yours Sakura-Chan! And HEY- “.

Sakura had risen, fury overriding her need to smother Sasuke as she stomped over to Naruto, fist raised, cheeks red with insult as her scratchy voice shouted back at the blonde “Shut up Naruto! Who the hell are you even talking about anyway! Have you made up some pretend girl to sound cool- “

Naruto stilled, eyes narrowed in offence and stupidity. A moment later and his features were animated once more, his face scrunching as if the next words he spoke were obvious – to Sasuke, they had been.

“Zakka…Kakashi-Sensei’s sister! —OH, AND HEY! - I told her about my party next week-”

Sakura continued to screech at him for mentioning another girl’s hair. For implying hers wasn’t perfect. Naruto yelled back. Fists flew.
Chaos erupted.

Sasuke heard none of it.

His thoughts had locked onto Naruto’s words. They swirled uneasy in his stomach, an unexplainable rage toward the blonde pulsing through his veins.

“And she walked me home”

“And did you know she’s SUPER pretty”

“And it smelled like pine trees! And it was so soft”

“Zakka…Kakashi- Sensei’s sister!”

“I told her about my party next week”

‘Zakka… approached Naruto? Paid for his meal, walked him home, she -He smelled her hair?!’

 Something ugly and hot tightened in his chest.

Possessive, sharp … Unwelcome.
Protective in a way he didn’t want to examine.

‘He smelt … she was pressed up against him…close enough to smell her hair’.
His jaw clenched.

He’d thought the smell of pine had been from the cliffs, not … her.

He ground his teeth, uncaring of Sakura’s gaze flicking between him and Naruto – She’d no doubt said something unkind, waiting for Sasuke to support her words. He didn’t. He hadn’t heard a thing since Naruto’s ramblings had ambushed him.

‘Why the hell did he invite her-‘

His mind betrayed him for the second time that morning, the images it conjured rewarded with an irritating pulse of …something.

Kiba staring, lude and drooling like the dog he was.
Lee’s eyes growing hearts, hands clasped as he declared eternal youth at her.
Shikamaru, observant and smart – intrigued when he realised, she was much the same.
Chōji offering her his food.
Naruto, grinning like an idiot, glued to her side.

They’d fall over her immediately. And she’d be polite, soft-spoken and kind.
Magnetic calm in a room full of undeserving morons.

He had planned to train or visit the cliffs, offer an excuse of a convenient illness or something simple.
Now? Now he’d have to go.

To make sure they didn’t label her as ‘Kakashi’s Sister’ all night.

To make sure Kiba didn’t slip Sake into her drinks.

To make sure the idiots didn’t crowd her, she hated people crowding her.
To make sure she-

‘No -No, that isn’t my respo-‘

“Sasuke.”

His pulse spiked, caught. He didn’t need to turn.
Kakashi’s lazy greeting drifted from the treeline behind him, book closing with a soft snap. From the undercurrent of amusement, he could tell their sensei had been witness to the whole sceptical.

As he pried himself from the training ground floor, his stomach churned, defensiveness climbing up his throat. Had Kakashi seen his thoughts?

‘doesn’t matter, it’s not like I actually care about her going to Naruto’s stupid party anyway.’

Kakashi stepped past him, a bounce in his usually placid step as he strolled casually into the centre of the field.

“Alright, team,” Kakashi said brightly, visible eye crinkling with that smile of his “If you’re quite finished dissecting my sister’s hair care secrets …Are we ready for training?”

Naruto bounced from the post, toward their sensei, face split from his grin.
Sakura scoffed, indignant.
Kakashi smiled knowingly under his mask.

And Sasuke-

Sasuke stayed silent.
Jaw clenched. Eyes narrowed at nothing.

Zakka was going to Naruto’s party.

He hated it. He’d gone over the logic six different ways, and it didn’t matter as to why he hated it. But he did.

If she was going, then apparently- he was too.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

Her shoulders bristled, raising towards her ears to retain any warmth she could. He was later than usual, and she was missing the physical barrier of his body. She’d gotten complacent, so used to the heat of his shoulder against hers that the bite of the winter elements felt twice as harsh without it.

Cold hands nestled into her underarms, fingers gripping the fabric beneath them, pulling it closer around her form to contain her body heat as best she could. She watched the lights of the village blink awake one by one. The winter wind tucked itself into the folds of her cloak.

‘Of course, he’s late on the coldest night so far’

She wasn’t waiting.

Absolutely not. But she sure would appreciate it if he’d hurry his ass up.

A loud crunch. The destruction of crisp leaves and brittle twigs under foot. The shiver of his familiar chakra breaching the treeline.

‘Ah, there he is…Take your time, why don’t you, Pretty Boy’.

Deliberate footsteps broke the quiet.

He didn’t even try to hide his approach tonight.

‘Interesting.’

She glanced over her shoulder, just in time to see Sasuke step into the clearing, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders strung tight in a way she’d learned meant brooding- but tonight it seemed sharper, petulant almost.

‘Hmmm…Grumpy Uchiha, huh?’

He crossed the space in a handful of strides, cloak swaying with the forceful movement, exposing the bandages wrapping his ankles – grass stained and mud splattered. A day of training then.

 He found the trunk and dropped himself onto it. Abruptly. So abruptly that her arms snapped away from her chest, body heat be damned, finding the bark behind her and swiftly forcing herself along a few inches to avoid wearing him as a blanket.

Since the night of their questions, when she’d arrived to him perched upon her sacred spot, he had taken up routine residence on her trunk - she’d allowed it. A silent treaty: an unspoken, shared territory.

Shoulders brushing. Legs dangling above the village. Two silhouettes, side by side.

Her peripherals traced him. He chewed the inside of his cheek, jaw tight, eyes locked on the village below -specifically the cluster of warm lights on the left.

Ichiraku, The Dango shop, Hokage Tower.

He looked positively childish. She hid her smile in a sip of tea, before returning the mug to its resting place two foot to the right.

“…Long day?” she offered lightly, unable to hide the tinge of teasing in her tone.

She’d barely got the second syllable out before he crushed it with words of his own - “You’re going to Ichiraku for Naruto’s birthday.”

Not a question.
Sharp, brooding… Unmistakably sulky.

Her brows rose, grey eyes sweeping his grumpy face.
‘Oh this-this is new’. … ‘And Kind of adorable’.

“I am” she said, tone neutral but eyes glinting. He huffed. A short, irritated breath – Something close to a grunt.

He kept his narrowed eyes on the village, refused to look at her.

“-You know he smelled your hair.”
The words burst out before he could stop them, shock widening his eyes momentarily before an instant wave of panicked regret took over. His shoulders went rigid, eyes flicking to her face for half a heartbeat before snapping back toward the horizon like he’d been burned.

‘My hair? Who? -He smelled- ‘
Realization hit her like a kunai. Her eyes widened. ‘Naruto…Their rivalry is that deep huh?’
She smiled; Wide, bright and unguarded. A smile that charged the cold around them.

Sasuke found her then - 

Eyes darting from hers to the smile taking over her mouth to her eyes again, quick as lightning, almost undetectable.

Almost.

“...Naruto? …Naruto smelled my hair?”

Sasuke’s jaw clenched. Hard.

Her smile widened, dimples threatening to pierce her wind stung cheeks.

“And that…bothers you?”
He looked away again, muscles in his neck tensing as he rolled his jaw once again.

Her laugh burst out, bright and ringing, startling the quiet cliffside.

The tips of his ears coloured, darkening as the echo of her laughter came back to them from across the valley.

She wiped a tear of laughter from her eye. “Don’t tell me that’s what has you stomping around like that”.

He scowled, the dignified Uchiha equivalent of a pout.

“No, I’m not bothered- And I’m not stomping.”

“Mmhm.” She took another sip of her tea, outstretching her arm, placing the mug back without breaking her gaze from his face. “So, what is it, then? If not the hair sniffing? His party? Just Naruto? - the fact that he talks at a volume only dogs should hear. Or-”

His hands flexed, curling abruptly into fists before forcing themselves open on the bark again. From the corner of her eye, she caught the movement. Sasuke’s tell - his thoughts were warring in his head. The knowledge did nothing to soften the blow that came with his words. “Ichiraku -I- “.

An audible swallow “-You being there bothers me”. Words spat into the air between them.

Mockery dead in her throat, her breath stalled, eyes widened, the flash of hurt too quick even for her emotional mask to hide.

He turned away from her. As her thoughts began to whir; messy and incoherent.

‘He heard himself, right? - acting like he wasn’t just a compete jerk! – not even a glance, I-You could at least try and look sorry Uchiha...What does – I didn’t think-I think that...hurt-Fuck- ‘

He remained turned away from her, raven hair thick in the darkness, acting as a curtain between them. Their shoulders pressed against each other began to feel pointed. Embarrassment, annoyance and…something else settled in her stomach – something that felt a lot like hurt. Her pulse stuttered, trying desperately to recover from her shock.

His voice reached her ears once more, driving the knife a little further as he continued like he’d just told her the weather, albeit through gritted teeth.

“Kiba better not be there,” he muttered darkly. “He’s an absolute dog.”

She pulled her gaze from his face, blank eyes finding her knees. Her fingers linked together in her lap, picking at the base of her thumb nail, fidgeting.

A quiet exhale. “If it really bothers you,” she said after a quiet moment, tone quiet and blank, mask settling back in pace., “I don’t have to stay long. I told Naruto I’d go and I don’t believe on going back on my word but -Parties are exhausting anyway.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, fingers continuing to wrestle on her thighs but eyes focused hard on the horizon; ready to cloak herself in her usual armour – Dry humour.

“Plus, if I stay too long, I’ll only end up accidentally insulting someone.” A humourless laugh, unconvincing even if she did say so herself. “Probably you. And then I’ll look rude.”

His head snapped toward her-not fully, just enough.

A crease of confusion tugged between his brows.

“You think-” he stopped, jaw working, frustrated. A huff of breath whispered through the short strands near his face, his frown deepening.  “I’m not bothered because you’re going.”

She blinked. Disbelieving.

“Sasuke…” The name tasted sharper than she expected - too honest. Too revealing. She scolded herself inwardly ‘Good one Zak, Name drop. Because that won’t give anything away’.

She continued through her stupidity.

“You literally just said ‘You being there bothers me’… Your own words” She didn’t look at him, face dead and eyes remaining on the roof of Ichiraku Ramen. But he’d have felt the shrug in her shoulders, caught the reflection from her hair when she shook her head in exasperation. And she knew he’d have registered the use of his given name…she never called him Sasuke, only when things mattered.

She could feel his eyes on her, boring into her profile with intensity as his features flicked through a slide show of emotions. Confusion. Defensiveness. Embarrassment…Realisation.

Petulant tone forgotten, he spoke.

“I – I’m not…” An annoyed huff “I’m not bothered that you’re going…It bothers me that you’ll…be there”

Her face screwed up in disgruntled disbelieve, gaze refusing the contact his own were demanding. “That’s the same thing, Stupid”

A pinch in his brow, the click of his tongue as if deciding whether to speak at all.

“Kiba will be there…” As if it answered his ridiculous, hurtful riddle.

An audible swallow.

“Lee will be there…He’ll be declaring the passion of his youth before you’ve even found a seat” He looked away, eyes joining hers on the horizon, as yet another huff left his lips. This one flat, almost defeated.

“Naruto’s already rubbing you in Sakura’s face…” From her peripherals she caught it. The faintest pink on his porcelain cheeks. “People like you, Zak”

‘Zak? …Oh, that’s new-’

Her pulse stuttered. “Zak.” It hit lower than she expected. Warm, sharp, and horribly gentle. A name until now, he’d only ever used in the privacy of his own thoughts. The name he used when he thought of…her? Hearing it spoken aloud knocked the breath from her. He was far too proud for her to acknowledge it with words and in that moment, she hated that he’d never know how much she liked the way it sounded on his lips.

His shoulders took their turn to shrug, the movement shifting hers. She felt the twitch in his bicep even through their cloaks; he was picking the bark. Uncomfortable…. Vulnerable?

“…People like you”

“And that…That bothers you?”

Silence. Nothing but the subtle sound of his teeth grinding.

‘Does he…He doesn’t want people to like me? He-He wants me there…just not…with them? - No. Surely not…This is Sasuke Uchiha we’re talking about here- But he does look…embarrassed. Does he …not want to share? No! – Don’t poke the bear Zakka, your silence is stressing him out…this can be a 3am thought ‘

She bumped his shoulder, intentional, with more pressure than needed given their proximity. “Yeah well…I don’t like people” A huff, clear of her throat to reset her tone. Back to light, airy…A plaster for the fracture of emotion both had unwillingly allowed to slip into their safe space. “I’ll show my face, chose my seat carefully and be home by 9pm”

A beat.

“Don’t sit next to Kiba” Flat, sulky…Petulance creeping back.

A teasing smile… “Lee then?” He growled his response. Fast, too fast - “No” Her smile grew, legs beginning to swing gently as tension released its hold on the pair. “So…Shikamaru?” A chew of his cheek. He said nothing but shook his head hurriedly. He was bothered…genuinely bothered, she knew him well enough to see it clearly. But teasing a petulant Uchiha just a little was fun…Too fun. “Ah.” A click of her fingers “Naruto then!” A sharp nod of her head as if she had figured out the answer to his puzzle.

His head snapped toward her, midnight strands swaying with the abrupt movement, dark eyes glowering with childish annoyance. Silver brows rose, mocking smirk firmly in place … “well you would be my first choice of company Pretty Boy…But I’m not sure there will be room for me with Pinkie all over you” His eyes darkened, his ears following suit, no doubt mortified at the realisation he would, undeniably, be smothered in Sakura from the very moment he arrived.

One of her brows rose higher, challenging as his eyes burned through hers. “Just…somewhere I can see you”

The delicate underlay of his tone took her by surprise. Taunting brow falling, steely eyes softening against midnight. Her pulse stuttered, chest warm with something she shoved away for later.

The air between them shifted -subtle, unspoken.

A soft smirk. She kicked his foot with hers as it swung, her reward a grunt of annoyance, as she eased the weight of the moment for the second time that night.
“I won’t stay long,” she promised. Her hands unfolded from her lap, reaching behind her, finding purchase on the trunk below her as she leant back onto her arms.  “And if Kiba starts drooling…I’m great at excuses. Early shift at that job I don’t have. Headache from lack of Sake…The tragic loss of my remaining patience -whichever fits best in the moment.”

Sasuke huffed - a tiny noise that might have been a laugh if he weren’t so chronically allergic to joy.

They sat quietly for a few breaths, legs swinging over the edge, warm through winter layers shared body heat.

“So, it’s a date then, Pretty Boy…. Ichiraku at 7pm -” He scowled, cutting her off with that childish annoyance and new nick name she enjoyed so much.

“-Shut up Zak”

Her laugh bounced around the clearing, spilling into the night and the valley below them. Midnight eyes, soft in the way they so rarely were flicked to her face - the tiniest smirk hidden behind raven hair.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

The night was loud. Too loud.

Music, laughter, the scrape of chairs - all of it pressed into him like a brewing headache. Lanterns swung, throwing warm light across the deck and turning everything into a blur of movement he wanted no part of. Sasuke remained stood where he’d been dragged, trapped against the bar a few meters from the rest of the group.

Surrounded.

Sakura had latched onto his arm the second he’d crossed the threshold. Ino hovered close and two more girls -strangers, he’d noted in frustration - lingered behind them whispering his name, giggling like they thought he couldn’t hear.
The thrum of a headache pulsed behind his eyes. Then Naruto started yelling, loud enough to rattle the lanterns, and the pulse sharpened.
“It’s so unfair! Selfish! There’re enough girls for everyone - just pick one and let the rest of us have a chance!”
Sakura snapped back immediately. “Can it, Naruto! He doesn’t have to pick anyone just because YOU say so!”
‘Tch. As if I’d pick any of you anyway.’
Her clammy fingers tightened around his arm. His shoulders locked. He wished he’d kept his cloak on. He’d be sweating through it, but at least his skin would be protected from all the grabbing.

If one more person touched him, he was leaving – ‘Zak’s absence be damned.’
Then Sakura’s voice pitched upward, too bright, too delighted.

“Oh! Naruto! Kakashi’s sister is here -go bother her!”
Midnight eyes slid toward the entrance before he could stop them.

Zakka stood in the doorway, composed, hands in her jacket pockets, expression unreadable. He blinked once. He’d only ever seen her in oversized sweaters, baggy shorts, or wrapped in cloaks with her hair loose. Seeing her like this, hair twisted up loosely, kimono wrapped neatly at her waist. It was… different.

Naruto lit up like an idiotic beacon and bounded toward her.
“Zakka! You came!”
So loud. So obnoxious. Naruto leaned into her space, firing off a dozen questions at once.
He expected her to recoil at the volume, the breach of her personal space. Like he had internally even from his distance.
She didn’t.
She smiled - calm, effortless - and answered him like she actually had patience.
He glanced at the table where the others were gathered. Laughter. Useless small talk. Nothing worth his attention.
Something pulled his eyes back to her.

She didn’t talk to Naruto like Sakura did, with flustered irritation. She didn’t brush him off like he did.
It irritated him more than he wanted to admit.
She hung her cloak without breaking eye contact with Naruto. He waited for her, practically vibrating in place as he dragged her toward the table, babbling about introductions.

Of course, they gravitated to her instantly.
Kiba went glassy-eyed. Akamaru melted under her hand. Lee looked ready to propose on the spot. Shikamaru straightened, interest piqued when he’d fired one of his pretend, lazy smart-ass questions at her and she’d matched it with infuriating ease. Even Neji had those milky eyes trained on her with a quiet intrigue.

Sasuke’s jaw tightened. Hard.
She was laughing. Not polite. Not forced.
Warm. Real.
It shouldn’t bother him.
But it did.
When her eyes eventually found his, she skimmed over his situation - pinned by Sakura and her clingy grip, girls crowding him on all sides. Her lips curved, barely, but enough, as she looked away.
A quiet, deliberate dismissal.
‘Punishment for telling her he’d be bothered by her being here? Ridiculous. I didn’t mean- ‘

She leaned closer to Naruto, saying something against his shoulder so he could hear her over the noise. Sasuke rolled his jaw, trying to ease the tension in his neck. His glare had barely left her since she walked in.
She made it look so easy - talking like friends in a place this crowded.

Something twisted in his chest. Irritating.

Naruto’s bark of laughter carried across the room. His arm lifted, nudged her, as she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at him. Naruto scratched the back of his head, “Alright, alright….” Then, Naruto turned, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“HEY SASUKE - STOP BEING RUDE AND COME INTRODUCE YOURSELF, EH?!”
Her hand shoved his side, pushing the annoyance his way with a soft chuckle. Naruto bound toward him.
Sasuke’s blood spiked hot.

‘Don’t touch me, loser.’
Naruto veered at the last second, grabbing Sakura’s wrist instead.
“Off we get” he said casually, prying her fingers free.
Naruto didn’t stop at peeling Sakura off him.
Of course not.
He grabbed Ino next - who yelped like she’d been robbed - and marched them both toward the booth where everyone else had gathered. Kiba hooted. Lee cheered something about “youthful respect for personal space.”
Naruto ignored all of it. One raven brow rose.
‘Didn’t think I’d see the day I was…grateful, for Naruto’
“C’mon, c’mon - scoot, scoot - make room! Sakura, Ino, HEY! just sit down- no, in the booth. Yes, there. Move.”
He herded them like misbehaving livestock, shoving them into the curved booth with zero grace. Sakura sputtered. Ino pouted.
He would’ve enjoyed watching them suffer if he wasn’t mere seconds from walking out himself.
Naruto paused halfway to the table, glancing back at Sasuke with that unbearably bright grin.

“HEY, SASUKE! THAT MEANS YOU TOO! GET OVER HERE!”
“Tch.”
His temples throbbed. Then Naruto ruined it further.
The garish orange jumpsuit skipped back toward him, tone lowering, his hand covering his mouth as he shout-whispered directly into the Uchiha’s ear.
“Zakka said you hate being crowded, so- y’know-” he waved both arms vaguely, “-you can have the end seat! Or whatever! Just… C’mon, move your emo butt!”

Every muscle in Sasuke’s body went rigid.
‘Zakka said- ‘
‘She? -'
His jaw flexed. Hard.
‘Idiotic. would she?... She is annoyingly perceptive...’
The fact Naruto had listened to her, without hesitation stirred something in his throat. And the fact that he repeated it out loud…Naruto’s whispers were about as quiet as an exploding tag – ‘Hn. Humiliating.’

Across the room, she was half-turned in conversation with Kiba and Shikamaru. But she must’ve heard Naruto’s shouting (No doubt everyone did). Her eyes slid toward him for the briefest second.

Not a smirk. Not exactly. Something quieter. Soft…Knowing.
‘God damn it’
Then she looked away, leaving him standing there like an idiot while Naruto still gestured wildly at him.
“Tch. For god’s sake,” Sasuke muttered, pushing off the bar. Annoyance rolling off of him.
He crossed the room with controlled irritation. Every step slow enough to make Naruto impatient, just fast enough to prevent more shouting. The crowd shifted around him; girls parted reluctantly, disappointed, whispering.

‘Good.
Stay out of my way.’

Naruto grinned triumphantly as Sasuke approached.
“See? Way better, right? You get the end, they’re off your arm, and nobody has to - HEY KIBA, MOVE YOUR BIG HEAD, SASUKE’S SITTING THERE, NOT YOU! -”
Chaos erupted. Elbows flew. Kiba tried (and failed) to shove Choji aside, grappling to take the seat Sasuke hovered at. Lee tried to “mediate,” which only made everything worse. Sakura pulled at Kiba’s coat, as she tried to reclaim a seat next to Sasuke, Naruto shoved her back with an indignant palm to the forehead.

“NO. YOU SIT THERE.”
“BUT-”
“NOPE.”
Sasuke let out a low breath.
Infuriating as Naruto was, the idiot had somehow accomplished the impossible:
He’d created him space.
And the seat Naruto meant for him -The one left open … Was directly beside her. He wanted the fact to taste biter in his mouth. He scolded himself when instead the constriction in his throat eased. Just a touch.
She shifted slightly to make room as he stepped forward. Nothing obvious. Not an invite. Just - an adjustment. Practical.
But the awareness of it hit him under his ribs.
She didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge him.
Didn’t do anything except place her elbow on the table and continue listening to Shikamaru with polite interest.
As if he was no one. As if she hadn’t just engineered this entire rearrangement with one offhand comment Naruto had taken as gospel.

An uninvited memory flashed behind his narrowed eyes, the cliffs, those weeks ago.
“Are you… dangerous?”
She smiled; slow, crooked. “I have a tendency to make people’s blood boil and a mean right hook if needed. But no, you need not worry about me being dangerous”
Watching her manipulate the room like it was a puppet on her string had him questioning just how innocent her answer had been. Integrating herself, influencing people she’d just met with such ease- he’d say she had the ability to be dangerous. Very dangerous, should she wish to be.

He slid into the empty seat, shoulder brushing hers for the briefest instant.
Warm. Too warm.
He told himself he didn’t notice.
Naruto thumped into his own seat across from them with a proud, breathless exhale.
“Perfect! See? THIS is way better!”
He didn’t respond.
But for the first time since walking into this unbearable, overcrowded room - His headache eased.
Just a little.
A half hour blurred past in a haze of clattering bowls, sloshing drinks, and voices rising and crashing like waves against Sasuke’s already-frayed patience. The long tables had become a mess of elbows and bowls and too many people shifting too close together.
Naruto had dragged Sakura and Ino away. Not gracefully. Definitely not without complaint. But he had moved them away from him-giving him the breathing room he hadn’t realized he’d been chasing since he’d stepped into this suffocating excuse for a party.

The chatter rolled around him like static.
Kiba was loud. Lee shouted supportively at no one in particular. Choji and Zakka started a dumpling eating competition. Tenten, exasperated, argued with Neji. Ino made dramatic sighs whenever Shikamaru spoke and Naruto, for reasons unknown, but sourly unwelcome, kept looking at Zakka like she was the one that had invented birthdays.

‘Zakka.’

She sat leant against the pushed-together tables, posture relaxed, hands folded loosely, her expression open in the soft, amused way he’d had only seen a few times - and never for more than a moment. She spoke easily when prompted, nodded politely when someone addressed her, laughed—actually laughed—whenever Naruto did something idiotic. The sound was warm, convincingly unguarded.

He hated that he noticed it.
Hated even more that for some reason, it bothered him.
His jaw stayed tight.
She glanced at him -just once -during the lull when ramen bowls were replaced and people leaned back with satisfied groans. Her gaze flicked to him, a line of tension underneath grey eyes. Almost undetected. But he recognised it. Had seen the same minute fractures that day in the market. The day she had broken down.

An image of her on the cliffs the night before, sat beside him just as she was now, shoulder against his. “Yeah well… I don’t like People”.
Her acting was impressive – frustratingly so. But in that look, the strain it was beginning to have on her didn’t go unnoticed.
And then, in a blink– it was gone.
A glint. A curve at the corner of her mouth. A spark of forced mischief that whispered – ‘Still sulking Pretty Boy?’
He looked away first. infuriated.
The noise didn’t help his mood, neither did the warmth. And the proximity- gods, the proximity -didn’t help at all.
Sasuke’s skin felt tight, stretched over something sharp.
He needed air. Space. An exit.

She moved through it all effortlessly. Every shift self-assured, every comment made slotted into the conversation like she’d been part of the group for years. People were drawn toward her.
It shouldn’t have mattered.
He didn’t know why it mattered. But it did.
Especially when she laughed again; low this time, softer, at some joke Shikamaru muttered to her. His eyebrow gave the faintest twitch.
He didn’t know why. Didn’t want to know.
A server passed with a tray, and when the crowd shifted to allow room, her knee brushed his under the table-barely. A flicker of contact. An accident.
She didn’t move it right away.
A beat.
Another.
Heat pricked low in his ribs. The room felt smaller.
‘Tch, Idiot’
He faced the opposite way, refusing to give her the satisfaction.
She chuckled under her breath, quiet, private, one of his chuckles.

The chatter continued, but he heard less and less of it. Until-
A soft, hollow clink.
He looked up.
She’d grabbed the nearly empty bottle in front of Shikamaru. Tipped her head back. Drained the last gulp. Then proceeded to shake it loosely over the tabletop, scattering leftover droplets across the wood with careless confidence.

“Hey, Naruto,” she called, voice lifting with effortless command, “push those tables together. Birthday spin-the-bottle for you.”
A ripple cut through the room instantly.
Kiba howled. Choji perked up. Even Lee gasped dramatically.

Zakka stood, sliding from the bench with ease, moving toward the centre where the tables were already being shoved into place; silver strands beginning to fall loose from her twist as the events of the night raged on.
She set the bottle down. People scrambled for seats. Naruto beamed.
Zakka’s gaze found him. Held him. A smirk small but challenging, ghosted her lips.
He could hear it…loud and clear.

‘What’s the matter, pretty boy? Not a fan of games?’
He thought about leaving - He didn’t.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation scraping raw at his nerves. He wasn’t about to let her win. He’d never hear the end of it.
He dropped to the bench beside her, not gracefully, shoulder bumping hers, claiming the space before anyone else had the chance. Their thighs brushed. No longer a foreign sensation but unwelcome under the watchful eyes of the village.
Shikamaru gestured lazily at Naruto. “Well…Your birthday. Spin away.”
Zakka flicked the bottle, causing it to roll to Naruto with a grin. “Looks like it’s your turn then, Whiskers.”

His eyes threatened to narrow.
‘Whiskers?!’ The echo of his own nick name resounded in his head, the sound bitter.
Naruto spun. The glass whirled, clinking against wood, catching lantern light in dizzy flashes. The room chattered. Leaned forward, collective breath held.
‘…Losers’

It slowed. Slower. Slower…
Until it Stopped… Pointing directly at Sakura.
Naruto flushed to his ears. “S-Sakura-chan!!!” Sakura shoved her chair back with a disgruntled cry. “No, absolutely not-.”
“C’mon,” Kiba groaned, “it’s a game!”
Ino snorted. “Jeeze, Forehead, it’s really not that deep.” Naruto’s face flared. From the bottle landing on Sakura or the embarrassment of her harsh rejection Sasuke wasn’t sure.
From beside him, he felt her shoulder tense. So subtly he almost missed it. “C’mon Sakura-Chan, it is his birthday,” Zakka added lightly.
Sakura glared. “Then why don’t YOU kiss him!”

‘Tch. Not happening ‘

Naruto choked. “N-no - Sakura-chan-she doesn’t-”
Steely eyes rolled in exasperation. She moved.
The noise rose - chants, teasing, Kiba howling into his hands. One moment she was sat against his side. The next she was kneeling on the table, both hands cupping Naruto’s molten cheeks.

And before the idiot could refuse - She kissed him.

Naruto froze, every nerve clearly short-circuiting.
Eyes wide. Face blazing. Hands suspended helplessly in the air.
The table exploded into hoots when her hand slid to the back of his neck, holding him there for a second longer than necessary before she pulled away, laughter spilling out soft and musical.
Naruto stammered nonsense, scratching the back of his head, face red to the roots. The circle roared with rambunctious teasing.
The noise didn’t reach Sasuke.
He forced his face blank, the action taking more effort than anticipated. The indignant huff he’d been ready to release stuck in his throat.

Laughter pressed around him - too loud, too bright, too much.
His limbs froze, spine straight as a drawn blade, stiff fingers clutching the bench; his stare locked on them with a violence he didn’t understand.
Zakka tapped Naruto’s crimson cheek twice... Offering a casual “Happy birthday, Naruto-Kun.”
A server coughed. “Miss - please get off the table.”
Laughter. A scowl from Sakura as Zakka bowed, giggling out a “Sorry.”
She slid back into her seat beside him unphased -Naruto’s shine still on her mouth. His jaw clenched. Hard. The force of keeping his eyes forward, painful.

The game continued.
Hinata and Naruto - awkward and pink.
Tenten and Shikamaru -Platonic, uncoordinated.
Kiba and Lee-Truly horrifying.
His focus turned inward, the moves of the game passing him as a blur. The only things clear to him, the strain in his neck and the pressure of her shoulder on his.

Naruto’s voice broke through his ears like a foghorn.
“HEY! EARTH TO SASUKE! – YOU’RE TURN, TEME!”
He scowled, blood heating in frustration at being caught in his thoughts.

‘Tch. Don’t want to play this stupid game anyway – This is ridiculous’
He spun anyway. The bottle slowed. Stopped.
Pointing directly at her.
His ears rang as if he’d been forcibly punched in the head. Colour dimmed, his vision narrowed at the edges as his eyes became unseeing, fixed with furious disbelief on the bottle before him. Heat pooled low in his stomach, he felt the slick of sweat coat his palms as his thoughts imploded in his head.

His senses caught up – letting the chaos of the room seep in.
Sakura lunged forward, panicking. “He doesn’t have to kiss her -Sasuke-Kun, you don’t- “
Ino groaned with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Ergh, Sakura, give it up.”

Under the table his fists balled. Tight. So tight he felt the bite of his nails on his palms.
Frustration and discomfort prickled up his neck, heat threatening to give away his panic.
He dragged his gaze along the length of the bottle, cursed its elongated neck as he turned his head to follow its line - panicked obsidian orbs landed on her.
Her eyes were already on him.
Still. Focused.
Coloured with the same …something he felt reflected in his own - something he had no intention of naming.

Steel eyes darted between each of his. Dipped to his mouth. Back again.
‘Shit’
His breath hitched. His throat felt like it was about to close over, the urge to claw at it wild in the back of his head.
Too close. Too exposed. Too many eyes. …Her eyes.
‘No- Absolutely not – Fuck- ‘
An audible swallow as he wrestled to regain composure. Even if the other morons didn’t catch his turmoil, he knew she would if he couldn’t shove it down. Immediately.
He shoved the bottle away sharply. Hoping she hadn’t noticed how clammy his hand was.
“Tch. Next spin.”
Something flashed across her eyes -too briefly to name. Her fingers curled once at her side - a grounding motion – before she leaned in.
Her fingers found his cheek before his brain caught up. Before he could flinch away with a disgust he wasn’t entirely sure he could portray convincingly. Her touch light, warm fingers slipped over his jaw as if she’d always known the shape of it, guiding him toward her.
His breath stuttered, pulse thundering in his temples as the panic returned tenfold.
‘Wha- ‘
Her lips found skin. His skin.
A ghost of a kiss brushed his cheek - disarmingly gentle. Any trace of her usual teasing nowhere to be found.
A jolt ran down his spine hard enough to shake him. His face heated, cheeks burning as he glowed with embarrassment. He prayed with every mortified bone in his body that no one noticed.

Warm breath skimmed his ear.
“Sorry Uchiha … Rules are rules.”
She pulled back. Face infuriatingly calm. If not for the faintest blush settled on her cheeks, she’d look entirely unbothered.
In the blur of reality beyond their locked gaze chaos erupted - Kiba yelled a taunt. Akamaru barked loudly. Naruto sputtered. Shikamaru scoffed. Sakura gaped while Ino cackled.

Anger. Hot and ugly bubbled in his chest– Foolish. He looked utterly foolish in front of his peers.

The world kept moving.
He didn’t.
Fists still clutched tight out of sight, time seemed to move in slow motion.
Her eyes tore from his. Her swallow visible before she stretched her arms above her head.
“Alright. My turn. Last one. Make it good.”
She spun.
The bottle wobbled. Slowed.
…Ino.
The entire table convulsed in delight. All except Sasuke as his thoughts still struggled to catch up with what his eyes were showing him.
Ino smirked, cockily. Zakka returned it, eyes glinting in amusement. Both shifted in unison as they closed in; confident, unphased.
The blonde raised a challenging brow. Her tone dry, mock warning.
“No tongue, Hatake,”
A soft chuckle, a raise of her hands in feigned innocence. A smirk. The same one she’d wear for him when she knew she was getting under his skin.

Ino closed the space between them. Their lips met.
Time sped up, reality breaking through his dazed head as childish howling and hooting deafened him.
The girls didn’t move apart, their kiss dizzying.
Heated but slow.
Deliberate.
Enough to flatten half the boys in the room.
Sasuke swallowed hard. Mortified that he couldn’t break his eyes away.
Heat spiked under his skin.
Ugly. Sharp and unwanted.

For one disorienting second, he wondered if Zakka kissed everyone like that.
'No. She hadn’t kissed Naruto like that.'
He hated the thought. Hated himself for having it at all.

Zakka’s hand slid into Ino’s ponytail, tugging just enough to reward her with a startled gasp.
“You said no tongues Yamanaka.”
The blonde laughed breathlessly. “You’re fun… I- I like you.”
Naruto cheered, beet red. Kiba demanded an encore. Lee declared the moment “a testament to youthful passion.”
Sasuke seethed. Silently.
Torn between ripping Yamanaka’s eyes out for the way she was looking at the silver haired girl beside him, or his own, for being unable to stop the image of the kiss from replaying behind them.

Still laughing, Zakka stood. “Well, that’s me! – early shift tomorrow” She slipped past him, her thigh brushing his once more. Her hand landed on his knee -light, casual. Entirely unnecessary.

His breath stopped. Fingernails drawing blood from his palms where they remained painfully clenched. Knuckles white with the force of stopping them from shaking. She straightened as she left the confines of the table, close enough that her hair grazed his jaw.

“Happy birthday, Naruto-Kun. Thanks again for the invite” she called, waving lazily.
Then she walked toward the door, as if she hadn’t just re-written the entire blueprint for the Konoha 11’s parties going forward.
Kiba shot up. “HEY -I’LL WALK YOU HOME -” She looked back. “Oh, no need. I live just around the corner.”
Sasuke’s eyes narrowed at the grain in the table before him.
A barefaced lie. She lived near the Uchiha compound.
Near him, far from here.
‘She doesn’t want him walking her home – Good’
And with that, she disappeared through the door flap. Lanterns swaying in her wake.
Only when the flap stilled did Sasuke exhale-low and unsteady.
He stayed seated.
Frozen.
Because if he got up -if he followed- ‘No- Absolutely not. You’ve made enough of a fool of yourself for one night. Idiot’
And so, he sat. Fists tight in his lap, jaw locked, surrounded by stupid laughter.
Eyes burning into the empty doorway.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

“HEY! EARTH TO SASUKE! — YOUR TURN, TEME!”

She swallowed her smirk, unwilling to share her amusement of him getting caught in his thoughts in front of the group. She didn’t need to turn to catch the scowl that would inevitably have taken over his face.

A hesitant hand breached the tabletop - A flicker of surprise behind her eyes. Steady to the untrained eye, but she didn’t miss the tension, the tiniest of trembles that made his middle finger stutter.

‘He’s actually going to spin. … Still so full of surprises, Pretty Boy’

Steely eyes followed the movement.

She forced nonchalance as her thoughts pulled at threads, unravelling the situation in front of her. Hidden within the confines of her skull, behind the shock of Sasuke Uchiha ACTUALLY reaching to spin the troublesome bottle before them, uninvited questions crowded her mind.

‘What’s gotten into you Uchiha?’

‘Surely, there’s no way he’s actually going to kiss anyone, right?’

‘I guess the real question Zak…Is why does the thought of that bottle landing on Sakura make you unsure if you want to hurl or punch someone…’

The roar of her thoughts dulled as the bottle spun.

A glinting blur against the table, reflecting lanternlight and catching breaths all-round the circle. She swallowed the uncomfortable, entirely unjustified lump in her throat as her last thought echoed within the inner walls of her head – A scolding she’d save for herself later, away from prying eyes.

The room erupted in hoots, catcalls, the kind of teenage noise that felt too loud and yet somehow too far away.

She barely heard any of it.

Because the bottle was slowing.
Slowing.
Until it wobbled to a stop…

…Pointing at her.

Her pulse soared, Heart rate near enough flatlined. She didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

Her eyes had already found him.

The moment stretched, the restaurant moving in slow motion outside of the gaze she fixed on his face as his own caressed the length of the bottle -painfully slow- until his eyes met hers.

Panic. Disbelief. Anger.

A storm of differing emotions swirled behind midnight irises.

“He doesn’t have to kiss her -Sasuke-Kun, you don’t- “… Sakura.

 “Ergh, Sakura, give it up.”  Ino.

She couldn’t muster anything more than recognising whose mouths had spoken the words, couldn’t register the words themselves.

Movement against her thigh – Tension in his hands. Balled in to fists no doubt. One of his favourite tells when uncomfortable.

Her eyes stuttered, searching between both of his before dropping, without permission, to his mouth. Sweeping over his lips with something she refused to acknowledge. Something that had her stomach doing unruly flips. Inviting, too inviting for here, public and surrounded. She pulled her gaze back to safer territory.

‘Shit’

His eyes followed hers. He’d seen.

Of course he had, she wasn’t sure she was being anything close to subtle through the frantic rush of her thoughts.

His breath caught, panic evident in the darkness of his gaze. Heated and panicked.

An audible swallow, the motion stealing her focus, her eyes gliding over his throat.

‘Fuck- He really is something- No…Don’t Zak’

She waited for him to break free, to crumple into a scowl and declare the game ridiculous…

…He didn’t.

Something flashed behind his eyes. The room blurred.

Her tongue wet her lips, anticipation of his next move draining them of moisture.

His gaze followed, dropped, intense to her lips. She felt it like a spark down her spine.

Nimble fingers rose toward her.

Gentle. Finding a stray lock of hair and tucking the silver strand behind her ear with a tenderness she had never imagined him capable of.

The brush of his fingertip against her cheek.

It lingered. Her skin burned beneath it.

He was close enough now that she could feel the warmth of his breath, close enough to see the small curve of a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

Her favourite smirk. He could be an ass but good Gods he was pretty when he was smug.

His thumb brushed her cheekbone once more as he withdrew from taming her hair. They found her cheek, her jaw.
Soft. Claiming.

His thumb found her once more, a smudge of skin against the corner of her lips. A contrast of her soft skin and the faintest scratch of rough from his weapon worn hands.

‘Good God Pretty Boy…What are you doing’

The rest of the world disappeared. He leaned in.

Their lips met.

Soft, light. Barely-there softness, testing pressure that made her stomach swirl, and her knees threaten betrayal. A delicate kiss, maddening in its restraint.

Her widened gaze met his, closer than ever before.  Close enough that she could see the miniscule bleeds of grey that danced with the obsidian in his own eyes. He held her there for a beat, before midnight orbs fluttered closed, dark lashes teasing his porcelain cheeks.

She inhaled sharply, her own lashes meeting the heat of her skin as, impossibly, he deepened the kiss.

Her hands found him, impulse control be damned as instinct took over -one sliding into his raven hair, tangling the spiked locks between her fingers. The other pressed roughly against the firm rise of his chest, feeling his heartbeat thrum – erratic- beneath her palm. Her skin flared beneath her kimono as he found her, steadying, his palms swallowing her slim waist, slender fingers wrapping around her. She’d never really noticed the size of his hands before, the graceful skill they oozed even in the simplest of movements.

He pulled her closer, eliminating the last inch between them. Her hand moved, running messily upwards, over his chest, the dip of his collar bone, before settling on the chiselled muscle between neck and shoulder; her fingers mirroring those of her other hand as they sunk into the dark strands at the nape of his neck.

Nothing else existed.
Heat stirred deep in her veins, cheeks undeniably flushed.

The smallest break, lips apart but sill close enough to brush. His breath mixing with hers.

Reality stopped, all that remained… just the tug of his fingers in her hair, silver threatening to spill from its twist and down her back in waves much like the ones she felt building in the pit of her stomach. Just the raw sound that left her throat as his nails grazed her neck, ever so lightly. Just the pulse of pure need as his lips found hers once more, force bruising. Just the irrational, entirely inappropriate desire to push his back against the bench they sat on, use the gasp he’d omit to slip her tongue into his mouth. Just the reckless urge to climb into his lap and pull him down with her– pull at his addictively soft raven hair as she straddled him as if they were completely unguarded and alone.

‘Fuck, Sasuke…’

‘Fuck it’

She made to move, legs heavy, skin burning -

A shift. Violent and disorientating. The world tilted, blurred into white heat.

And her eyes flew open.

The ceiling of her room stared back at her.

Her room. Her bed. Just her…hot, disgruntled and very much alone.

Morning light bled through the window above her head, winter sun muted by forest green curtains. No party. No bottle. No dark eyes to drown in, no steady hands on her waist, touching her like -

“Well…. Shit.”

Her chest heaved, brow beaded in sweat. For a moment she lay there, allowing sleep to slink away and reality seep into her bones.

A dream.

‘What the absolute FUCK Zak’

She shot upright, mortified heat flooding her face so quickly she nearly choked on it. She slapped both hands over her eyes, dragging clammy palms down her face with a shaky breath.

“No. Nope. Absolutely not.”
She kicked her blankets away as if on fire.

Her feet hit the floor, stumbled over her discarded hair pin from last night as she launched herself out of bed as if it had personally betrayed her.

She shook her head, tangles of silver protesting, the vivid images of her dream refusing to be shaken away.

“Okay – Cold shower, right now Hatake!”

She stormed toward the bathroom.

Her thoughts raced; mortified, flustered, disgruntled and confused.

‘Uchiha…
Fuck, that was – ‘
‘NOPE. No finishing that thought…COLD. SHOWER. HATAKE’

She turned on the shower, water cascading in freezing torrents.

Time-out. Full mental reset. Emergency protocol.

Because if she didn’t calm down, she was absolutely certain she’d walk into the night, to the cliffs, still flushed, still rattled, and Sasuke -The actual Sasuke -would take one look at her and know. Those eyes saw her, saw through her when she least wanted them too…And he was never allowed to know any of this.

No- Nope -Never…Over her dead body.

*****

He made his way toward the cliffs, feet following the now, all too familiar path like second nature. His body may have moved on quiet instinct; but his mind did not. It churned over the past 24 hours on an infuriating loop.

Team 7’s morning mission -if it could even be called that. Locating a missing cat. A cat. Ridiculous. Below him, below Naruto even, below any of them. Idiots or not, they were much further along than catching rogue pets. It had soured an already feeble mood.

And then there was the night before… still fresh. Far too fresh.

Being trapped at the bar by idiotic girls. Naruto’s beet-red face. Sakura’s brutal rejection. Zakka’s act of ‘heroism’ resulting with her lips on his. The twist in his own stomach -shock and annoyance, sharp and unwelcome. Ino’s blonde hair tangled in Zakka’s fingers, their lips locked together – breath stealing, easy… like it was nothing. The way she’d chuckled as they pulled apart, full of that lazy grace he often wished he could bottle- claim for his own.

The tension in her eyes when they’d found his. Fleeting evidence that the evenings act took more of a toll than she’d ever admit. And what an act it was. She hadn’t just blended in, no, she had worked the entire room…effortlessly. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or nervous at her seamlessness.

And then, of course -his kiss.

Gentle fingers at his jaw, soft and unpressured. They had found him like they had done so a hundred times before, bent him to her will before he’d even considered not complying. Her lips on his skin, unhurried, calming in a way he had never before experienced and yet at the same time, utterly overwhelming. Her breath on the shell of his ear, that maddening flicker of…. something in her eyes as she’d removed herself from his space and returned her attention to the game.

Something inside him had stuttered. He’d been angry -furious even -that she’d made him look foolish.

Angry that he’d been dragged into the stupid game in the first place. Her idea. Her stupid game. Angry that he’d turned up at all… because of her. Because she had agreed to go.

He was angry at her. No…not angry. But definitely annoyed. And beyond Embarrassed.

He’d spun the bottle -opened himself up to looking stupid-and he still didn’t know why. He hated that for a split second; he had actually considered following through. Had considered kissing her before his better judgment kicked in - in the middle of Ichiraku Ramen, in front of his entire group of peers, for what…for the sake of a game?  

She had wormed her way under his skin, clouded his judgment, and he wasn’t pleased about it.

‘Ridiculous.’

He’d snapped at Naruto during the mornings mission. Caused an actual argument. Kakashi had stepped in, all annoying laziness and that infuriating ‘unbothered’ tone. He had directed his self-annoyance at the easiest, loudest target. Couldn’t help but bite when Naruto wouldn’t shut up about that stupid kiss Zakka gave him and ‘Did you see her out-eat Choji?’ ’Isn’t she SO much fun’. Hadn’t shut up about the look on everyone’s faces when Zakka and Ino had floored half of Konoha with their performance – that annoying obnoxious laugh, all so hilarious, so harmless to him.

Sasuke had snapped, frustration with her- and the way her presence seemed to twist everything inside him, had been taken out on Naruto.

He’d called Naruto’s party stupid. Called Naruto stupid. Told him they weren’t friends, and he didn’t even know why he’d gone.

Naruto had looked crestfallen, then tried to hide it with his fists.

It had been unfair and …  ‘stupid’.

Sasuke exhaled sharply through his nose as he breached the clearing, annoyance childish but heavy on his chest.

She was already there.

Of course she was…always one frustrating step ahead of him.

She sat on the trunk, same place as always. But she didn’t turn to greet him tonight -not with that soft smirk she sometimes offered him, nor a sarcastic remark about him being late. And he was later than usual. He had fully expected her to reprimand him for it, had hoped for it almost – an opportunity to off load some tension.

Odd.

He crossed the clearing and settled beside her on the trunk. As he sat, she moved. Barely a couple centimetres, subtle, but unmistakable. Deliberate, ensuring that as he took his place, not an inch of them touched…As if the usual brush of their thighs would physically burn her.

Very odd.

They’d convened on an almost nightly basis for nearly 4 months; he knew it immediately …She was off tonight.

She kept the space between them, refused to meet his gaze, offering a forced, “Evening.”

Polite. Too polite.

He took her in; the tension in her back, her legs held tight -not swinging, seemingly carefree, as they normally would be. She chewed the inside of her cheek, faint hue of pink dusting her skin. And her eyes… trained intensely on the speckles of light in the valley below, though her peripheral vision was unmistakably on him. He felt it. Saw it in the pinch of her brow.

He swallowed his frustration – the irony of being annoyed that he was no longer annoyed.

“You’re being weird,” he said.

She startled.

Startled. Zakka didn’t get startled. Too frustratingly perceptive to be caught off guard.

Her eyes flicked to him -quick, fleeting -before darting back to the valley.  “Excuse me?”

A beat. His gaze stayed on her profile.

“Not normal.”

Another dart his way; the pinch between her brows deepened, no usual retort. No offence…not even feigned.

He elaborated, as much as he would allow. “You seem… different.”

Her mouth tightened for several seconds before she forced out, “Wha- I’m fine.”

‘Still no retort.’

Just a bad lie.

He studied her in silence. Tense, her gaze anywhere but him, shifting her weight like she needed to move or she’d combust.

It wasn’t the cliffs making her anxious.

‘Me?’

‘Well, she still came here…Can’t be too serious?’

His chest tightened -unwelcome-at the realization.

He’d come here ready to be annoyed at her. Apparently, she’d beaten him to it.

Typical.

He sighed, letting his gaze mirror hers on the horizon, hating how his tone softened without permission. “Last night?”

She gasped -tiny, so easily missed if you weren’t looking for it. But he was, and it was there.

“No-I’m fine. Just tired. People are exhausting but last night was -fine-it was fine. It was nothing. I er- I Just couldn’t sleep and then -well, no, I did sleep but then-” She cut herself off with a violent clamp of her jaw, turning farther away, trying -and failing -to hide the embarrassment radiating from her.

He watched silently.

This wasn’t fleeting he’d decided. It hadn’t started here. This was the result of an entire day’s worth of something she refused to name. He sifted through possibilities with detached precision.

His eyes narrowed as he processed his thoughts.

‘My spin?

Because I didn’t? – No – Because I …played?’

“The bottle?”

His voice dropped an octave, betrayed him, slipped past his lips, sounded too… vulnerable, before he could chew it back down. ‘Tch. Idiot’

She looked at him, expression so stricken he half-swore he saw her soul leave her body.

‘…ah.’

She made an incoherent noise, then turned abruptly, scooting away up the trunk like distance could save her. “No-I…Why would you think that?”

He blinked slowly. He had never witnessed her so…out of control. She’d told him control is how she kept herself safe. It unsettled him. Frustration swelled, he forced it into existence, ordering it to smoother the feeling resting in his stomach…Concern.

He wasn’t concerned. Didn’t have time to apply effort to being anybody’s unpaid therapist. He willed himself to raise an eyebrow, narrow his eyes and offer a tone of annoyance. The best he managed was deadpan.

 “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m not - It’s not - I’m just tired,” she snapped, voice building in confidence. Her jaw set, her usual defiance surfacing just a little. The pinch in her brows deepened further, the pout on her lips easing the tension building in his own shoulders.

‘Good, bothered, but okay…just flustered?’

The corner of his mouth tugged upward -barely. The ghost of a smirk.

But she saw it.

She froze, Childish glare pinning him momentarily, before tearing her eyes away again, flustered once more.

He turned back toward the view, burying the urge to keep staring.

She rarely slipped. Always so in control. So annoyingly sharp.

Knowing she was fine, just…sulking. Seeing her this rattled-

He shouldn’t have liked it as much as he did.

He crossed his arms, forced an eyebrow to raise – Poking the bear. “You could at least tell me why you’re acting so strange,” he said, tone deceptively calm, “I don’t have time to guess your mood swings, you know.”

The words sounded harsher than he felt. For reasons he didn’t want to examine any harder than he already had.

She grunted, offered nothing more. She chewed her cheek harder, fingernails picking at the bark beneath them.

Charged silence stretched.

He ground his teeth, battling between pushing the subject out of instinctive defensiveness, demanding to know what he’d done to wind her up to this extent. And backing off, respecting her discomfort and letting her bring it to him if and when she was ready. He sighed, annoyingly, should the tables have been turned, he knew she’d grant him the latter…’Tch. fine.’

He exhaled. “It’s – You don’t” he added quietly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Her head shot up, eyes wide -almost alarmed.

He kept his gaze forward, voice lowering. “Keep it a you problem, just… stop acting like you’re going to throw yourself off the cliff every time I look at you.”

She made a tiny, mortified groan. He pretended not to hear it.

A softer beat of silence passed.

“Then stop looking at me” she muttered.

He huffed a laugh at her petulance. Dark eyes glanced at her.

She still wasn’t looking at him, but the colour in her cheeks had begun to lessen. Her breathing steady; regaining control.

He looked away again, irrationally satisfied.

He didn’t know what her problem was. But he knew one thing:

He didn’t hate that it had something to do with him.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

It was too cold, and the wind bugged him.

Why was the sun even out, so bright it made his eyes squint and yet not warm at all. He missed the skies of summer, bright blue like his eyes and WARM. Summer was his favourite. Not this. Winter was cold and grey and boring.

He kicked a stone, pretty big one. All wonky and silly shaped. Looked kinda like the dangly lanterns outside Ichiraku, all chubby and – His stomach grumbled. Maybe he’d go to Ichiraku. He didn’t have his frog wallet. Didn’t have any coupons. He scrunched his face, whiskered cheeks dimpling. He’d make some instant ramen when he got home. Chicken- No miso – maybe chicken. Ah, he’d figure that out after …whatever it was he was doing. Walking. Aimlessly. Being mad at Sasuke. Being sad at himself…

Yesterday’s training had ended weirdly - or maybe it had started weirdly and just never stopped.
He kicked the lantern stone once more as he made his way towards the bridge, replaying Sasuke’s words again and again and again.

“Gods, shut up Naruto!”

“It wasn’t ‘cool’, it was stupid…The whole party was stupid.”
“What -We’re not friends.”

Naruto flinched as if the memory of the words hit him physically.

He hadn’t even said anything bad this time! He was only talking about the game! How Zakka tasted like plum because did you see her eat all those dumplings – She beat Choji, can you believe it! That Zakka was so cool, that it was awesome that she’d showed up. That Kiba was all lovesick puppy – hadn’t shut up about her since. That he was super glad the party had been so fun, that Zakka was so fun, different to Kakashi-Sensei, way cooler – he’d thought they’d agree, he’d thought it was funny is all.

But Sasuke’s voice dropped colder than ice, and that look in his eyes…

Naruto’s chest squeezed.

That Teme was always a jerk, loved to piss on Naruto’s fun but yesterday he had been…mean. Even for him.

And then Kakashi-sensei had shown up out of nowhere, like he always did. Like he just knew. Appeared in a fancy gust of wind and a lazy eye-smile, but he hadn’t been reading his book, so Naruto knew he’d seen Sasuke be an ass, seen Naruto throw the first punch. Kakashi- Sensei hadn’t even commented. Just popped up between them. Slapped a hand to each of their foreheads and spun them away. Dragged them straight into drills before the fight got worse.

Naruto sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He’d just wanted to spend his birthday with…well… someone. His friends, now that he had some. He’d spent so many alone. And then Sasuke had ACTUALLY turned up. And he’d joined in! Alright he didn’t kiss anyone like the game said, but he sat, he spun…he was there! Naruto had stupidly thought it meant something. That maybe they really were friends after all.

He stopped at the bridge.

The water below rushing loudly. He wondered if it was running away from the stupid winter cold too.

He stood, muttering about the frost. That he hadn’t worn a cloak. He didn’t own a cloak. Cloaks were stupid. The noise of the water ran through his ears, familiar and normally soothing. It usually dulled his busy thoughts and oh boy were they busy today. But it didn’t lift the heaviness inside him.

‘Did I do something wrong?’
The thought wouldn’t stop circling.

He’d been so excited. Actual friends this time. Not just a lonely bowl of instant ramen in his empty apartment. Sakura had come, even if she mostly just followed Sasuke. Sasuke had come. Seeing that jerks grumpy face in the doorway had made Naruto’s night. Then Zakka had shown up and made everything wild and loud and fun. Talking and laughing and games and…kissing. Fun. Actual fun.

He’d felt… lucky. Happy.
Like he’d had a real family for once. And somehow, he’d still messed it up.

He found another stone. Small one. Like Shikamaru’s pea head. He rolled it in his fingers. Once. Twice. Then threw it. Hard. Into the depths below the bridge.

Why did he get so mad? Why did he say we’re not friends? What did I even do?

He scowled.

Angry, Annoyed, Hurt. Sad. It was all so unfair!

“What’s eating you, Whiskers”

He blinked, eyes widening comically. Startled.

‘Wha- When did she get here’

Zakka. She leant, hip against the stone rail of the bridge, her back to the river, arms crossed lazily over her chest. So similar to Kakashi-Sensei. ‘Is it a Hatake thing – just popping up out of nowhere’. She was wearing a cloak. He would bet she was a lot warmer than him. Gloves too– that would have been smart. His fingers were pretty cold.

‘HEY -Words Naruto!’

“Oh! Zakka! Hey!”
His hand flew to the back of his head, rubbing sheepishly, but the usual grin didn’t follow.

Her eyes caught it - sharp, assessing and pretty. Too observant for his comfort.

‘Just like Kakashi-Sensei. Ha, they really are siblings’
‘Urgh…Man. She’s probably here to shout at me too.’

Silence stretched between them.
Naruto in his rambling thoughts. Zakka’s steely gaze watching him, as if she could read them.
Her voice cut through the mess of grumblings in his head this time crystalline eyes snapped to hers as she added a gentle nudge to his arm.

“Naruto-Kun…What’s wrong”

Zakka was so cool. She actually sounded like she gave a shit.

And so, everything spilled out.

The words tumbled over each other faster than he could stop them - how Sasuke had snapped at him, how Sakura had scolded him like he was a child – but Sasuke started it and she didn’t tell him off! How the party was supposed to be fun, how he had fun, He’d been happy, how he’d thought it was the best birthday he’d had … ever.

“And Sasuke just -he was so mean,” Naruto choked, staring into his crossed arms, resting before him on the stone. “I invited him because he’s, my friend, ya know! I thought - I thought it meant something that he came. He NEVER comes and then he just—”

Naruto swallowed hard. He was rambling.

“I don’t get it. I really wanted everyone to be happy. And I ruined it somehow.”

He didn’t look up, but he felt her eyes soften.
He didn’t think it was pity. Didn’t feel mocking.

He snuck a look. Her eyes were trained on him. Actually listening. Understanding, kind.
Her undivided attention. She allowed him to speak – to ramble and actually listened. He thought Zakka Hatake might be the best person around.

She twisted, spinning until her posture copied his. Back hunched, arms crossed on the bridge. Bet her arms weren’t as cold as his were though.

“Listen carefully, Whiskers.”

He gulped down a swallow. Head turning sheepishly, ready for the air to change the way it always did and the telling off to begin. At least it wasn’t Sakura, he didn’t think Zakka would hit him like she would at least.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He blinked at her.

“Sasuke…” she continued, eyes on the water below. Voice careful, measured…probably well aware she was talking to an idiot. She was definitely WAY smarter than him. “Some people struggle to feel things. Actually… feel them.” Her voice dipped, gentled. “When something happens -something normal, fun - it doesn’t feel normal to them. It feels… scary.”  

His face crumpled into a scrunch of whiskers and confusion. His fingers flinched on the cold barrier under them. He got that…kinda. But surely, being lonely was way scarier than having friends?  He was terrified of being alone. But she was still here, talking to him. So, he wasn’t about to burden her with his whining about being lonely. “Scary? Like the first time I tried Siho Ramen and wasn’t sure if I’d wasted my last coupon?”  She chuckled. Musical and pretty. Gentle, not cruel. Zakka was great.

“Yeah, like that. And maybe, like…scared that they don’t deserve to be enjoying themselves. Does that make sense?”

Naruto blinked, staring at his fingers. ‘Sasuke? Scared? No way… ‘

“He’s not angry at you,” she said firmly. “He’s angry at whatever it is inside himself that makes a friend’s birthday feel like something he doesn’t know how to handle.”

Naruto swallowed.

“He’s an asshat Naruto…we know that. But he came. That asshat showed up… For you.” Her lips curved in a small, knowing smile. He chuckled at ‘Asshat’ … That’s exactly what he was. An asshat. “That’s the loudest he knows how to say you matter to him.”

For a second he couldn’t breathe around the lump in his throat.

Zakka straightened, reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Warm. Her hands were always so warm. She was warm.
Glistening blue met defiant steel.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeated softly.

He nodded, eyes stinging. “Yeah… okay.”

She squeezed once, then pulled back. Nonchalant. Confident. ‘Like Kakashi-Sensei- No. Better than Kakashi-Sensei’

He’d only met her a couple time and yet she’d just fixed something that had been twisted inside him without even trying. A playful hand ruffled his hair. Hard enough to duck his head. His nose dipped dangerously close to the solid stone he leant on.

“Wah—HEY!”

She laughed. Bright and sharp, like sunlight off a kunai. She stepped back and threw him a wink.

“Eh, Naruto – Kun…If you promise me you won’t jump, I’ll get you ramen. Ichiraku, tonight at 6pm!” she teased as she turned, melting into the passing crowd.

Naruto twisted. Uncoordinated. He watched her vanish into the swirl of the village.

His chest felt warm. Light.

“…Thanks, Zakka- Chan” he whispered.

The words floated off into the hum of the village, carried away toward wherever she’d gone.

And for the first time all day, Naruto smiled.

*****

She walked the length of the village. Her steely eyes unseeing, relying on her well-trained senses to weave her through the crowds. Villagers, vendors and shinobi alike. Bustling about around her, occasionally catching the hem of her cloak through their closeness, fluttering the fabric against her legs. Within the confines of her head, her thoughts swirled.

Naruto’s hunched shoulders. The dullness reflected in his usually blinding eyes. A hurt he hadn’t wanted to show.

Then Sasuke’s scowl. The fall of his footsteps as he’d stomped out of the treeline toward her. Tension wrapped around him like wire. She couldn’t shake the feeling in her gut that he’d arrived looking for a fight. A release of tension aimed at her. Naruto likely got the first round – caught in the cross hairs of an annoyance meant for her.

She had embarrassed him. Indirectly of course, but it was all the same to Sasuke.

She had gotten Naruto to remove the lovesick fan girls from his personal space – Naruto had tried, bless his heart, but he was incapable of being truly quiet, she had heard just fine that he’d told Sasuke he as there because ‘Zakka said you hate being crowded, so-’  He’d have been mortified at the thought of being publicly rescued by Naruto of all people…As if he was some damsel in distress.

‘Heh, he is a bit of a princess’

And then the bottle…. oh god, the bottle. That had been her idea too.

He’d been crammed into a bench and pressured to take part in a game he absolutely would have seen as pathetic. Below him. And yet he’d spun. She couldn’t place why. But he had. And from the knowledge of him she had gained over the last few months, she knew he wouldn’t be able to explain it either. And that…that would infuriate him. He’d have been in his head about it. Naruto going on about it all…Well it would have been the fuel needed to ignite the fire. Unfortunately for Naruto, he had been burned by a Uchiha flame meant for her.

She hadn’t looked at him – too busy with her own mental turmoil’s – but she had felt his soured mood. If she had been present – mentally present, she had no doubt they’d have spiralled into a verbal toe to toe.

Instead…

‘You seem…Different.’

She winced inwardly. She had been. Very different, definitely weird.

THAT dream had fogged her brain. Still haunted her if she dropped her guard for too long. He had noticed. Of course he had. He saw her without trying. Without wanting to.

And he’d dropped his annoyance… for her?

‘No. Out of character – just… common decency to make sure I wasn’t about to throw myself – Or him -off the cliff.’

She’d been the one to rile him. And yet Naruto had taken the hit; her stupid, unwelcomely vivid dream, had unbalanced Sasuke enough to shield her. And that wasn’t fair.

She released a frustrated sigh as her feet continued to wander.

It pained her to see Naruto upset. He was a genuine soul, and he shouldn’t be questioning himself due to her impulsive stupidity. No. She’d make it right.

Sasuke was going to apologise. Whether he liked it or not.

She stepped back into her vision, scanning the street she occupied before moving her feet toward the mouth of a quiet side alley. She stepped in to it – allowing the shadows to envelop her. Steely eyes pressed closed, as she let her senses expand outward -careful, deliberate threads of awareness darting across Konoha. Searching.

Naruto – Still at the bridge.
Kakashi – A subdued hum. In his apartment, asleep under his smutty book no doubt.
Sakura – To the east, likely her family home.
Gai – To the west. Chakra spiked. Yelling something about ‘the power of youth’ at Lee most likely. Lee’s chakra hummed beside him – she deemed herself correct. Ino. Shino, Hinata. Asuma. Kurenai.

But no Sasuke.

She exhaled sharply, eyes tightening as she scowled. ‘Where are you, you broody little- Ah, got you’

 Far out to the south. Training Ground Twelve.

‘Had to be the furthest away, huh?’

She opened her eyes, allowing them a second to adjust as she left the confines of the shadows and stepped into the winter sun once more. She shoved her hands in her pockets and headed for the outskirts, determination building with each step.

Yes. Sasuke Uchiha was going to apologize. Even if she had to force him.

Her sandalled feet wove through the tree’s that surrounded his chosen training ground. Silent as the shadows cast over her as she crept forward. She found him exactly as she had expected to. Alone, focused, slicing through targets with flawless precision.  She lingered in the treeline, eyes sharp as they followed him for longer than she’d meant to allow.

They flicked over his form.

His steady stance, feet planted firmly and thighs tense, strong. A fierce look of concentration. Those eyes; determined and burning with purpose and his jaw held tight. Gods that jaw. She remembered the feel of it beneath her fingers. So angled, rock solid underneath the soft cover of his skin -

‘Nope.
No.

God damn it, Zakka!’

She waited until he slammed his next kunai toward the target.

It hit. Obviously.

The blade found the centre of the target with ease and with such force that the kunai from his previous throw – also dead centre- was catapulted to the dirt with he resounding clash of metal on metal.

His chest rose and fell, not overexerted but certainly harder than rest level. She made herself known.

“You upset Naruto.”

He jumped.

Physically jumped. His fingers slipping out of his kunai pouch, where they had been reaching for his next throw.

A second of being caught.

Then he scowled – Uchiha composure firmly back in place as if she hadn’t just witnessed him nearly jump out of his skin. Dark eyes found her, jaw ticking. “I hate when you do that – Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on people.”

She ignored the question, stepping fully into the clearing.

As she passed his discarded kunai, she dipped, plucking it easily from the grass and spinning it on her finger -showing off, maybe -and tossed it gently to him. He caught it without looking away from her, expression tight, unreadable.

She crossed her arms. Defiance taking over her features as she repeated herself. “You upset Naruto.”

A roll of Midnight eyes.

“And?” Sasuke said flatly.

Hers bore holes into his. Holding him firm, voice steady “He thinks you don’t care.”

Without hesitation. Almost too quickly, too defensively to be taken as honest - “I don’t.”

Her turn to roll her eyes. “Yes, you do,” she said, stepping closer, arms still folded tight. “Last night…you were wound so tight I thought you might snap in half. You showed up ready to bite… Though it would seem, you’d already taken a chunk out of Naruto.”

“That’s not-” His jaw clenched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes scanned his face, hoping for a read.

“It wasn’t meant for him, and we both know it. You don’t do words, I get it, but he’s upset and you should apologise.”

The huff of a humourless laugh.

“Absolutely not”

She sighed. Heavy and exasperated. Her arms unfolded, one hand tucking into her cloak pocket, the other rubbing her temples.

“Doesn’t need to be anything fluffy – just show up.” His eyes narrowed, scowl deepening. His mouth stayed forced shut but she heard the unspoken words that his eyes shouted, ‘Show up where’.

“I told him to meet me at Ichiraku at 6pm. You’ll be going instead- “His fists balled at his sides, a tremor in his legs that told her he desperately wanted to lunge at her right now. She continued “Look, you don’t even need to talk to him. Just stroll past on coincidence, with a hankering for some ramen. Eat next to him in silence, pay his bill and be done with it”

She swore she heard his teeth grind, even from where she stood.

“Not happening. Besides, you were the one acting weird last night”

‘Shit’

Abort – deflect – Do something! We’re not going there Zakka’

“Don’t change the subject.”

He heaved an irritated sigh, reaching for any discarded kunai at his feet.

“Well, you were- “. He rose straight once more, kunai in hand, blade pointed at her accusingly “And don’t tell me what I’m feeling or what to do about it when you wouldn’t even tell me what was bothering you.”

Arms folded over her chest once more. Pout in place. She looked childish, she knew she did. She didn’t care.

“Nothing was bothering me. I told you -I was tired.”

He scoffed.
She glared.

Dry, biting banter simmered between them – Loaded, dangerous…. comfortable. They traded pointed quips like secrets these days.

Grey eyes stuttered away from his. She spotted his pack.
All the way across the training field, just inside the opposite tree line.

‘Perfect.’

Her eyes lit up.

“Alright ... I’ll make you a deal, Pretty Boy.”. She stepped forwards, feet bringing her closer to him as he rose a nonchalant brow.  “If you can stop me before Naruto’s meal money makes it into your bag… I’ll keep my date with Naruto, and you can skip off into the sunset to do…whatever it is you enjoy doing.”

Now only a foot between them, Sasuke stared at her like she’d just announced she could fly.
She was a civilian. He was a ninja. The hell did she think was going to happen?

She smiled sweetly. Eyes widening in mock innocence.

 He gave no answer, but she’d made her offer, and she’d be damned if she wouldn’t see it through.

She took two slow steps past him, fingers reaching to loosen the clasp of her cloak.

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. Suspicious.

In one fluid (ridiculously childish) motion, she tore the cloak from her shoulders and flung it at him. The winter breeze caught it just as she had hoped, flattening the fabric into a blanket like force as it found his face.

He sputtered. Flailing in surprise as the fabric tangled around him.

An immature cackle broke free from her throat.

And she ran.

Sandals found purchase on the frost hardened ground, lean legs covering the training ground with deceptive speed.

She’d expected him to stay put. Drag her cloak from his disgruntled face and glare at her in annoyance. Probably declare she was an idiot, before reiterating he would be taking no part in such a childish deal.

He did not.

Grass tore beneath his boots as he pushed forward, chasing her. He stumbled once, fingertips brushing dirt as he righted his balance and flew after her, gaining speed in each stride.

‘Shit, he’s fast…’

His pack was just out of arms reach, when she pulled her next trick out of the bag. A childhood favourite.
The one that used to get Kakashi every time.

She stopped.
Dead.

Heels dug aggressively into the floor beneath her. Sandal shaped dents, carved into the dirt.

Sasuke nearly barrelled past her. His eyes widened. Shocked, a flicker of impressed acknowledgement, then pissed.

He twisted sharply, grabbing for her as he went, prying a girlish shriek of surprise from her lips. One hand clamped at her waist, the other caught her wrist. Kakashi had never been quick enough to catch her.

The sudden jerk threw his balance.

He toppled.

She went down with him.

They slammed into the dirt in a tangle of limbs.

Sasuke turned, twisting mid fall. His shoulder cracked harshly as he moved to absorb the worst of the fall. Not to catch himself – to catch her. Her head bounced against his chest, silver strands shaking with the force of the movement, as one of her knees was thrown between his legs, their cores pushed together in ways they absolutely should not have been. One of her arms landed sprawled across him, the wrist he’d grabbed still held in his hand, pulled above his head, stretching the fabric at her chest across the firm flat of his stomach. His other hand had somehow ended up between her shoulder blades, warm and steady – almost delicate.

For a moment there was nothing but silence.

Their eyes met.
Breaths hitched.
Heat flushed both faces.

Flashes of her horrifically stupid dream stabbed unhelpfully through her mind -his hands on her waist, her fingers on his jaw, breath shared too closely. In that exact moment – far too close to home.

Her pulse thudded wildly beneath his grip. He’d felt it. She knew he had - Skilled fingers wrapped around her wrist, grip vice like, he couldn’t not.

Worse -she felt his heartbeat under her palm, through her own chest where it lay atop the muscular wall of his. Quick. Erratic and as intense as hers.

They blinked.

‘Gods.’ Too intense.

And given the way her mind had been in the gutter the last 72 hours - Dangerous.

She forced herself to move first.

She twisted free, scrambling upright, using the entanglement of his legs to wriggle out of his hold.

She lurched forward, reaching for his bag. Fingertips brushing the fabric - A surprised grunt. Obsidian orbs burned.

And then he yanked.

Her left wrist, still in his hand, was pulled backwards with an attractive amount of force.

His grip on her slipped in the motion, skin on skin. Sliding down until their fingers lay flush, palm against palm.

She gasped as he retracted his limb, hauling her backwards with it.

She toppled onto her knees, then onto her backside beside him in the grass. Once again out of reach of the bag.

Sasuke sat, cloak rumpled around his shoulders, cheeks flushed. Somehow, he managed to look smug and irritated all at once. Oh, how she enjoyed the bite of his smugness.

He raised a brow.

She raised one right back.

His expression flickered. Confused, then suspicious. What on earth was she so cocky about? She’d clearly lost. The money hadn’t even -

His eyes snapped past her.

To the bundle of Yen notes whispering at him from the front pocket of his bag.

Mocking him.

She grinned.

Sasuke stared at the money like it had threatened to punch him.

It might as well have. He had lost.

With an exhale of relief, she stood, brushing dust off her pants. The movement (and Sasuke’s lack of fight now the realisation she had won was sinking in), finally pulled her hand from his grip as she stepped over him. His hand dropped to his lap, limp with disbelief.

She stepped over his legs, smug smirk now firmly in place on her own face. As she passed him, she dipped at the waist, her hands found a shoulder each. Silver hair brushed his neck as she lowered her face, level with his ear.

Underneath her fingertips, she felt the goosebumps prickle across his skin. Not from the cold – her proximity. The tickle of her breath against the shell of his ear.

She kept her voice low, teasing – mockingly seductive. Stupid in hindsight but gods a rattled Uchiha was quite the sight to behold.

“Deal’s a deal, pretty boy. Ichiraku at 6pm -Get him two bowls.”

She straightened. Feet leading her toward the training ground gate. She didn’t wait for the explosion she had no doubt, was brewing behind her.

“Oh,” she added over her shoulder, as she collected her discarded cloak from the ground “it’s my quarterly dinner with Kashi tonight. So, if you do dip out - you won’t find a fight at the cliffs”. From halfway across the field, she heard the rumble of his frustrated growl.

With that, she left him there, sitting in the dirt, cloak half-off, hair mussed, pride in ruins – Still glaring aggressively at the taunting notes fluttering in his pack.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

He strolled through the village as if he had no real destination in mind. A casual wander, a man at ease - Just a pleasant evening in Konoha.  In truth, he was working.

Well… ‘working.’

The boys had fought. Not unusual by any means. But something in Sasuke’s tone had snagged in Kakashi’s mind. It was normal for the Uchiha to be cutting and catastrophically blunt when he thought Naruto was being an idiot. Which to Sasuke, was Naruto’s default state.

But his tone had been precise, designed to injure. And it had…Naruto had gone quiet, looked genuinely hurt. Sasuke hadn’t looked just annoyed. He’d looked bothered.

Kakashi had felt the reluctant tug of responsibility. As their sensei, he’d separated them and thrown orders for punishing drills to keep fists out of faces. It had kept them occupied but not soothed. By the time he dismissed them, the air was still sharp with tension, both still simmering in their own versions of the event.

And so, he would check in. Make sure there wasn’t an explosion brewing.

Sasuke was ice.

Naruto was fire.

And when those forces clashed for real, Kakashi wasn’t sure which one would win -nor did he want to be the one scraping up the remains of the loser.

Being a sensei was exhausting. Far too emotionally taxing.
He didn’t remember signing up for this much teenage melodrama.

Honestly -In charge of two orphans, and somehow, he was expected to be the emotionally stable one?
Didn’t they realise their sensei was one of the most emotionally stunted men alive? He barely handled his own feelings. Theirs were a nightmare.

He sighed. A deep, tired sigh that warmed his nose under his mask. One hand broke from his trouser pocket, pulled out the battered copy of Icha-Icha from his vest. He flipped instinctively to page 249 -his favourite part. He pretended to skim the familiar words as he drifted down the village street, senses stretching out like fine threads.

He searched for Naruto first.
Easiest to find. His chakra always leaked, undisciplined, bright - made brighter by the fox inside him. Kakashi could usually find anyone, but Naruto’s chakra… that one he knew by heart. A lifetime’s worth of familiarity. Minato’s steady thrum braided with Kushina’s wild, Nine-Tails-tainted pulse.

A dull ache tightened in Kakashi’s chest.
He forced it down. Always did.

Instead, he tracked the signature, altering his path automatically.

He hummed into his mask. ‘Ichiraku, obviously.’

His sandals whispered against the dirt path as he meandered casually through the crowds toward the blondes second home. He tucked the book lower, letting himself enjoy two more lines before:

‘Hn’

Another presence. Cooler. Sharper. Supressed tightly – His chakra control was getting better. Close to being on par with Sakura, Kakashi had nearly missed it.

‘Sasuke too.’

Kakashi’s speed didn’t change, but his stride lengthened. To the untrained eye, he would still be lazily ambling, senses dulled by the smutty novel in his hands. In reality he utilised his height and covered the ground with greater efficiency.

‘Ergh, if they’re fighting again… in public’

He wasn’t about to be paying for damages caused by their stupidity.
Teaching truly was the worst.

He stopped across from Ichiraku, blending into the passing crowds despite his tall frame and even taller hair. His book rose, adding shadows to his face like a second mask. Leaving only his eye peeking over the spine.

They weren’t fighting.

Naruto was beaming, animated; arms flailing dangerously close to Sasuke’s head as he talked. The boy gestured so wildly one chopstick nearly impaled the Uchiha’s shoulder. Said Uchiha looked… irritated. Deeply irritated. His brows drawn, mouth tight, posture defensive. The epitome of some one that wanted to be anywhere but here.

‘Then why isn’t he’

A Sasuke who didn’t want to be somewhere simply wasn’t.

He didn’t humour people. Especially not Naruto. Except… he was.

With the fear of public liability released from his head. Kakashi studied. Flicking through the catalogue of memories and possibilities with a speed honed from years in ANBU. His visible eye remained trained on the stress inducing duo.

He re played the fight. Ran it again. Looking to pinpoint the catalyst.

Naruto’s party. Kiba. Choji. Zakka. Dumplings. Spin the bottle. Normal.

Stupid, but normal.

Sasuke calling parties stupid. Normal.

Naruto whining about it. Normal.

Sakura chiming in “You only think Zakka’s cool because she pity kissed you!”

Naruto snapping back- “It wasn’t pity! She’s awesome! The Teme got the pity kiss for chickening out-”

Sasuke grabbing him. Hissing something sharp. Naruto hurting. Then punching.

Kakashi exhaled sharply.

‘…Ah.’

He lowered his book an inch, eye narrowing with dawning resignation.

‘Zakka.’

His unexpectedly disruptive sister was apparently rewiring the interpersonal dynamics of his team like a new hobby.

Naruto had been talking about her a lot lately. Had even claimed -loudly -that she was “cooler than Kakashi-sensei,” which was rude and obviously deeply untrue.

Sakura seemed to sour every time her name was mentioned. Kakashi was beginning to suspect, his female student’s distaste was less to do with Zakka herself and more to do with the subtle, increasing possibility that Sasuke might not hate the silver haired menace the way Sakura expected him to. Lovesick but perceptive.

He swept through his thoughts, what he knew of Zakka; her ability to manipulate a room in seconds, the way she could move people like puppets as if it was second nature. Naruto really HAD been talking about Zakka a lot lately. She went to his party – a friendship? Logical that Naruto would ramble about her if so.

But Sasuke…. Friends? No. Sasuke didn’t do friends outside of convenience.

He hadn’t noticed any interaction between the Uchiha and his sister. Highly doubted they’d become unexpected buddies, during the glaringly public setting of Naruto’s party.

But he’d snapped only once her name had been thrown around.

He’d put his savings on Zakka being the reason Sasuke was sat before him with a scowl that could curdle milk.

She had taken a liking to Naruto; Sasuke had hurt him…She had – by whatever means- forced Sasuke to apologise in a way that she deemed both acceptable and believable. It reeked of her emotionally manipulative justice system.

Blackmail maybe? Honestly, he wouldn’t put it past her.

He closed his book, time to “coincidentally” pass by.

He stepped into the flow of foot traffic, letting it carry him naturally toward the ramen stand. When close enough, he lifted a hand.

“Yo.”

Naruto lit up instantly. “Kakashi-sensei! Hey -we were just-well I was telling Sasuke about-”

His rambling diverted without so much as a breath, sparing Sasuke’s battered ears from further assault. Kakashi glanced at him.

He did not look relieved. Quite the opposite. His scowl -already lethal in its own right -deepened into something aimed squarely at Kakashi.

‘Mm. Not expecting me to be walking the streets huh?’, Kakashi noted.
‘Let me guess Zakka…. You agreed to meet Naruto for ramen to cheer him up. Used whatever leverage you have on Sasuke to take your place –told him you couldn’t possibly go, because you were with me’

He heaved an internal sigh.

Outwardly, he offered a lazy shrug and excuse in one breath. “Just picking up some water. My plant was thirsty. I ought to get to it back now.”

No one questioned it. They never did.

But Sasuke’s eyes narrowed – aimed at his teacher. Though Kakashi was sure that inside his skull, a very different silver haired annoyance took the brunt.

A casual wave. He drifted away, feeling the weight of dark eyes burning between his shoulder blades. Naruto waved after him. Sasuke did not.

Kakashi didn’t look back.

*****

Lamplight glowed through the thin netting obscuring her window.

He didn’t bother knocking; she’d have known he was there before his feet even found her steps, let alone before his knuckles touched the wood.

With a deep, grounding breath, he let himself in.

Zakka was sprawled, upside-down on the couch, legs over the backrest, head dangling off the seat, silver hair spilling like wild brushstrokes around her. A book hovered in her hands, upside-down to him, upright to her -though he doubted she was reading a single word of it.

He leaned against the doorframe of the entryway.

“You’re making my team act weird.”

She didn’t look up. Offered no acknowledgment. Didn’t even pretend to be surprised. Her eyes skimmed the book, but he knew her senses were fixed on him. Sharp enough he could almost feel them.

“Sorry,” she said blandly. “Not sure what you’re referring to.”

He sighed into his mask, breath warming the fabric. “Riled the Uchiha, pity-kissed the Nine-Tails, and Sakura’s about ready to make a Zakka shaped Voodoo doll. What are you up to, Ka?”

That got her.

A tiny flinch. Barely there. A subtle burn of irritation across her features.

Childhood nickname – A low blow, but effective. He hated when she ignored him.

She retaliated lightly, coolly: “It wasn’t a pity kiss. Me and Naruto are actually going steady, don’t you know? We’re trying to keep it low profile though so if you wouldn’t mind -”

He swallowed another sigh. That tone… that infuriatingly blasé humour.

He knew it was hypocritical.

But he hated it.

Hated that he knew why she used it…

Because he hadn’t earned anything else yet. Years of coldness and hurt didn’t disappear because he had reason to seek her out today. He realised he didn’t seek her out enough.

He let the guilt rattle his ribs once. Then let it go.

Fine, her way then.

“Well,” he said, leaning harder into the frame behind him. The feigned nonchalance he was famed for.

“Maybe you should’ve told Sasuke.”

One of her brows arched -slow, cautious. An unspoken warning.

He lifted one hand, an airy gesture disrupting the air around it as he elaborated with maddening casualness, “He’s dining your man at Ichiraku as we speak.”

The ghost of a smirk flickered at her lips. “I spose they do make a devastatingly handsome couple -What a shame. I really thought we had something special”

Kakashi stayed where he was. He had no desire to crowd her, especially not here, in her home. Her safe space that he was already intruding in.

No. Zakka cornered was…merciless. Cutthroat and unforgiving. A version of her he had already encountered enough to last a life time. He wasn’t foolish enough to provoke a repeat tonight.

Silence thickened. She pretended to read again.

He exhaled through his nose. He didn’t wish to cause friction in their delicate dynamic. But he had come here for a reason.

“We both know he didn’t show up because he felt bad for upsetting Naruto. How did you orchestrate a date?”

Her response came level, returned without needing a beat. Her voice too smooth.
“The Uchiha? Wouldn’t know. Never spoken to him. What are you implying, Kashi?”

A barefaced lie. Draped in that nickname.
Noted.

“Something on him that I should be aware of?”

Cool eyes remained trained on the book dangled before her. The only movement a flutter of pages as a short, sharp sigh passed her lips.

He wouldn’t be getting anything else out of her tonight.

“Alright,” he murmured, pushing upright. “Worth an ask. “. A raise of his brow, sleepy eye tightened with frustration. With the underlying guilt he so often felt when around her and the unease that thrummed through him in moments like this; the unsettling feeling of being at such a known disadvantage. In the game of Hatake hierarchy - they both knew good and well he walked on her eggshells.

“I’ll leave you to grieve Naruto’s infidelity – Just figured I’d stop in for consistency. Because that’s where Sasuke had expected me to be. With you. I assume?”

A slight shift of her jaw. Almost imperceptible annoyance.  He knew she hated when he figured her out. Presented her own motives to her. Patronising and unnecessary, she’d say.

Yeah well, she wasn’t the only Hatake with razor-sharp perception.

‘Where do you think you learnt it, kid?’

Kakashi reached for the door, another sigh threatening to spill out as his hand hesitated. He was being patronising and unnecessary. Did it matter how she had done it? Sasuke had shown up, Unspoken apology accepted - Naruto was no longer at risk of imploding and setting the fox loose on the village…She had fulfilled the team mediation he, as their sensei, should have.

His pride ached – She’d carried his slack yet again. Put herself in the firing line to ease a problem that wasn’t hers to carry.

‘You really are a terrible brother Kashi’

He spat her childhood nickname at himself within his skull. Laced in inadequate malice.

‘Why won’t she tell you anything? Cause you wouldn’t understand even if she did.…’

‘She at least deserves a thank you. Idiot’

He hated how small he felt around her.

One hand stayed paused on the handle. The other rose, slipping his mask down, welcoming the bite of cold air on his freshly exposed skin.

He deserved it.

He turned his head over his shoulder. Face bare to her. Barriers removed, an offering of proof that the words that followed were sincere.

“Thank you,” he said lightly, Sincerity and shame anchored the words. “Naruto needed that… Thank you”.

She didn’t look at him, but he felt the breath she stalled in her lungs.

Then he stepped into the evening air, letting the cold slip between them like a curtain.

“Just…be careful with Sasuke, Zakka,” he added as the door drifted shut. “Or someone’s going to get hurt.”

The latch clicked, soft, almost apologetic. With his mask back in place, He walked away.

*****

The latch clicked into place, sealing the apartment in a thick, humming quiet.

She didn’t breathe – held the last lungful of air heavy against her ribs.

Kakashi’s chakra signature retreated down the street, fading, thinning, as he made his way back to his home – their childhood home.

The room felt heavier for it. Not because she had wanted him to stay. No. Her head reeled so quickly her temples pulsed any time he found himself at her apartment. She didn’t want him here – She thought she had made it clear. He claimed to know her, to read her like a book – you’d think he’d have figured out he wasn’t welcome in her home.

The weight of his words leaked into the room.

“How did you orchestrate a date?”

“Something on him that I should be aware of?”

“Just…be careful with Sasuke,” - “Or someone’s going to get hurt.”

She lowered the book to her chest, still upside-down on the sofa, dull eyes trained on her ceiling.

The words echoed, bouncing against the hollows in her chest as her breathing slowed, breaths deepening in a strategical attempt to keep the unbidden rage in her throat from smothering her.

Had he come here, to her home…. To accuse her of playing games with his team? To warn her off before she hurt some one actually important to him.

‘Of course, he thinks you’ll hurt Sasuke. You ruin things. You ruin people’

Her jaw twitched.

He’d sought her out, invaded her space to attack her? Remind her that she was the problem. Always the problem. To warn her to stay away from those he now considered his family. She was his family, dammit! A half arsed thank you and a flash of his stupid face…Not a single ‘I worry about you too’ or a ‘You shouldn’t have had to cover my ass again’.
…Just like always.

‘Shows up unannounced, rips my decided motives to pieces, lords it over me than disappears into the night – Sounds about fucking right’

Her fingers dug into the book’s skin until the leather groaned, deep half-moon indents littering the cover.

A hollow laugh tried to claw its way out- she swallowed it before it escaped.

She swung her legs off the back of the sofa. Righted herself in one fluid motion. Eerily calm.
Feet found the floor. Book in hand. Eyes dead. Face blank.

Thoughts alive, burning.

She closed the book gently, tenderly, like she feared it might fall apart if she were too harsh. Shaking hands placed it in her lap, resting atop of the aged scripture as her world tilted. Self-deprecating thoughts growing.

Her sternum heaved a mechanical sigh.

She stood, quietly, slow. Hand wrapped around the binding.

Then, without warning and with a force so regularly buried deep, she launched it across the room.

The dull thud of leather finding the plaster of her walls. The startled flutter of disorientated paper acting as the only alarm, foreshadowing the implosion of something inside her, snapping like a trap.

Her gaze; Painfully slow. Cold and void of seeing. slid to the mug on the coffee table. Her fingers curled around the handle. Heavy limbs lifting it level with her chest.

One heartbeat. Two.

And then, it too was hurled. Cutting through the thick air of her apartment with vicious, reckless force.

It shattered on impact, exploding noisily into jagged shards that skittered across the floor like her shattered composure.

The silence that followed was obscene.

Her breath shook.

She turned – too slow, too mechanical - to the coffee table.

Knee’s bent, her body dipped, trembling arms reaching out. Her hands swept across it in a violent, unthinking arc.
Candles, coasters, pens, folded papers - everything clattered and slammed to the floor in a chaotic spill.

Another breath.

Another.

And then … She froze.

Chest heaving, shoulders stuttering, glistening eyes fixed on the ruin she’d made.
Shards of ceramic, glinting with mocking in the lamplight. Pages from her book fanned out like feathers. A pen cracked in half, the ink splattered, bleeding into the cream fabric of her sofa.

Her fingers twitched once before she forced her arms to hang still at her sides. Forced her shoulders down.
Attempted to force it all down; back down into the void she kept beneath her ribs. Thoughts, instincts, the rage, the urge to hurt…herself or someone else. Right now, she’d take either.

Control was gone.

There was no use in trying to claw it back.

‘Lean into it, Zakka – Redirect. Give the chaos purpose’

A long, thin exhale leaked from her lungs. She had two options.

Solitude – the cliffs, the sharp bite of winter air and the whirring hits of her own self sabotaging thoughts.

Or

Violence - ROOT. It had been her refuge, long before she had learnt there were other methods. She could walk right into her room, tie her bloodied wolf mask to her face and take a mission. Weapons didn’t have time to feel.

Kakashi despised her involvement with ROOT, with Danzo and the corruption he stood for. Something about that made the outlet sing sweeter. She knew it was corrupt of course. Knew Danzo had ulterior motives and the morals of a swamp rat. But when she was 8, alone, broken and scared, when Danzo had groomed her into joining the force – ROOT had welcomed here, given her purpose and an outlet for her hurt without judgement.

Something her own brother, had not.

Her feet made her decision for her. Turning swiftly toward the locked cabinet in her bedroom. Fingers still shaking but moving with precision as they grasped the porcelain of her mask, attaching it to her belt loop and tucking it beneath her jumper.

She grabbed nothing else. No cloak, no gloves, no cover of secrecy. And stormed out, slamming the door hard enough the frame rattled. The night air bit into her bare arms immediately, as she left the home behind her in ruins.

She didn’t have the stability. If she tried to fix it…she’d break herself.

No, not tonight. Any hope to piece herself back together had gone …instead, she’d find a way to unravel someone else.

‘Misery loves company and all that’

Her feet carried her on autopilot. At the fork in the road -village straight ahead, Uchiha compound to the right- she paused. Her eyes slid toward the compound. Before she turned sharply and kept walking.

She reached the outskirts, where the dull quiet met the bustle of Konoha. She’d need to gain height from here out. Get on to the rooftops, concealed in the thick darkness of night if she was to get to Danzo’s ROOT office without a sighting.

Her senses unfurled- silent, instinctive, predatory. Chakra threads brushed the edges of the night scouting the area for any movement, any evidence she may be perceived making poor decisions, until they found a signature sharp enough to draw blood if she touched it too fast.

‘Fuck. Sasuke.’

A metal fence ran along the path she stood on; she leant back against it, sinking into the shadow of it, letting the cold sting into her spine, grounding her, mocking her, maybe both.

Arms crossed. Eyes shut.

Waiting.

She would wait for him to pass. She was aware of her chakra advantage – her chakra ran though her blood, not her chakra pathways. Undetectable. She had no signature.

The shadows welcomed her like she belonged there. Sometimes she felt she did … more shadow than human.

As his footsteps drew closer her thoughts whispered. Intrusive and cruel.

‘The Uchiha can be unravelled to…Easily. No bloodshed needed’

She scolded herself. Unfair. This wasn’t his fault; he didn’t deserve to be dragged into her fucked up mess…But he would bite. And when he did his teeth were sharp.

Footsteps. Closer now.

‘No. Leave him Zakka – You’ll only prove Kakashi right’

He passed into view, scowl vicious, hands buried deep in pockets, chakra souring the air with annoyance. His gaze stayed glued to the dirt, jaw tight, shoulders coiled.

Two steps past her –

It was no use – She’d lost control.

“How was your date, Pretty Boy?” she murmured, unmoved from her thick cloak of shadow. Her tone made her own skin crawl. Smooth as silk but cold…dark. So far from the version of her she tried to be.
He startled, kunai in hand within an instant, chest heaving from the jolt, Sharingan blazing in her direction. A flicker of genuine fear flashed across his features, stroking her unpleasant need for dysregulation.

A dry chuckle.

His kunai tucked back into his weapons pouch as shock subsided and his ears registered her voice.

‘Yeah, you might want to keep it out tonight’

“It wasn’t a date”

His tone was low, gravelly with annoyance that she knew was only half honest. He’d gone; he wasn’t that pissed.

He didn’t blink until she broke free of the shadows. Sharingan deactivated as she stepped lazily to his side. He turned, feet moving once more, a wordless gesture that said he expected her to fall into step beside him.

She did.

His hands slid back into pockets. Foolish, he almost looked like he’d become used to her debilitating presence.

“Clearly not. You are setting home early – What happened, Whiskers not put out?”

His features were hard, unreadable.

The sigh that left his lips was heavy and exasperated, the huff of it bouncing his shoulders.

His tone carried into the night between them - deadpan.

“Tch.” He humoured her. “He’s not my type.”

An act of dry humoured friendship that would normally have warmed her. So unaware of the cruelness lurking too close to her surface.

She huffed out a laugh. Sharp. Tired. Silently grateful he was playing along instead of giving her an excuse to hurt someone that wasn’t herself.

“That’s a shame…You’d have made such a handsome pair” she sighed in feigned disappointment; tone laced with toxic sweetness.

He grunted. A flick of the Uchiha glare. She didn’t miss the flinch of…something, that coloured his features. She angled her body closer, predatory mischief sharpening the edges of her exhaustion. “So…” she drawled. “If tall, blonde, and wildly attractive isn’t your type -what is? Brunette’s do it for you instead?”

His eye twitched.  

He looked unsure how to respond…if he should respond at all. Unsure of her – her tone, her unusually pointed comments and her new need to push past what they both knew he was comfortable with.

His glare settled in place, a mix of curious caution, his tone hard as stone.

“Not your business.”

She grinned. “Oho.”  A dry chuckle “So you do have a type.”

His jaw locked. She continued to poke.

“Pink then?”

Gritted teeth. Too fast: “Absolutely not.”

Her laugh broke out - Sharp, a little wild. But genuine. His confirmation of zero attraction to Sakura soothed something in her. Something she refused to acknowledge – at least, not mid spiral.
“Gods, Uchiha. You’re picky.”

“And you’re annoying,” he shot back.

She lifted a sarcastic hand to her chest, placed it over her heart in mock gratitude. “Why, thank you.” He rolled his eyes.  

Inside her, something taut loosened a fraction. She leaned in, voice honeyed. Dangerous.
“What do you like, Sasuke?” Close enough her breath brushed his jaw.

He didn’t answer, refused to meet her gaze, jaw tight.

In the depths of her logical brain, she didn’t miss the infuriating assumption that she might actually care, what he liked. “Not blond…not brunette…not pink…” she mused.

She took an elongated step forwards, putting her a foot in front of him as they walked. She turned, walking backwards with ease as her eyes levelled on his. His gaze probed hers, flicking between her eyes with a furious question mark.

She was getting dangerously close to his breaking point and she knew it. Any moment now he’d snap, storm off and whatever it was they’d spent the last four and a half months coaxing into existence would be left in shatters; much like the mess waiting for her in her apartment.

She pushed further anyway.
“Maybe you prefer silver. Morally questionable. With terrible impulse control.”

He stopped walking.

Sharingan flared into life, blood red and blinding in the darkness around them.

She smirked. It tasted like relief.

Under his breath, low and murderous: “…not funny.”

“Ah, a shame.” She sighed dramatically. “I don’t think Kakashi is on the market right now.”

His glare could’ve set the street on fire. His teeth ground, so hard the strain showed in his neck.

She stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“Am I getting warmer, Prety Boy?”

The silence was thunderous. She took another step - too close.
One hand reached up and lightly tucked a silver strand behind her own ear; tip red from the cold. Not that she felt it.

“You prefer something…dangerous?”

His chakra spiked - uncontrolled, hot, sharp.

Good. One step closer to him severing ties with her. Her and the hurt that she would inevitably bring him – just like Kakashi had said.

“You’re pushing it,” he growled, eyes burning into her.

“Good,” she breathed. “That’s the point.”

His gaze flicked to her lips for one heartbeat.
Just one. But she saw.

She made to lean closer, almost touching him- Instead, he stepped toward her.

So close her instincts felt the air shift from his racing pulse. Her broken, him burning – teetering on the edge of something reckless.

She didn’t back down. Didn’t step back out of his space, held his furious gaze with her own.

He snapped.

A growl ripped from his chest as he shoved her shoulder. Hard.

She stumbled. The distance he had needed opening before him.

His eyes burned.

Hers flickered with shame and satisfaction; with the regret of getting the bite she’d craved.

She had grown up with the Sharingan. Obito had been a close friend of Kakashi’s. She’d known him well and then Kakashi had inherited his Sharingan eye…yes, she was very familiar with the eyes ability to make you feel like an open book.

But Sasuke’s… in this moment he was reading her.  Reading her like he knew her, knew that this…whatever this was, wasn’t her. Lips pressed in a firm line, jaw held tight, those blazing red eyes swept her face, dug into her every tell, recognised the foreign dullness behind her steely eyes.

For a moment, she thought that maybe, he was seeing her…truly seeing her. Seeing through the fog of self-sabotage and years of self-loathing – the ugly way it was rearing its head.

And then, he side stepped her, moving around her and adding a singular step so he stood ahead. Disappointment twinged in her chest, and she braced for his leave. For him to save himself and disappear like he should.

Instead-

His chin turned, rested on his shoulder as he threw the words at her, low and loaded.

“Carry on, and I’ll throw you to the dirt again, sweetheart.”

‘Sweetheart.’

The word hit her like a blade. He had meant it to.
Unexpected. New… He’d disarmed her with it the way she so often used ‘Pretty boy’ to shake him.

He had mirrored her.

When had he clocked her coping mechanism…that her mask consisted of dissecting the person before her and becoming it. Using themselves against them to ease her discomfort.

Her breath stuttered messily.

Smart. Recognised she wasn’t herself, so threw it back at her…a lifeline should she need it. A pull back to being her.Heat pooled behind her ribs. ‘Sasuke, you- ‘

He hadn’t left. He’d seen her…seen through her.

And he’d given her a way out.

She blinked once, slow. Swallowed the scratchy lump in her throat.

Sharingan still activated, his eyes narrowed at her, watching the shift of a million different emotions over her features. Taking in the way her shoulders had gone limp and her mouth slack, dead behind the eyes as thoughts of him began to drown her.

“What’s gotten into you?” Too calm. Too observant.

She hated that he’d seen it. Vulnerable and ugly, too embarrassingly human.

He should have walked away.

Her jaw clenched once before the word left her – blunt, too honest. Too surprised and exhausted to lie.

“Kakashi.”

Sasuke stilled. A tiny widening of his eyes. Sharingan fading into midnight as they closed in a slow, stunned blink.

A second too late, she realised exactly what he was thinking.

Her stomach dropped.

‘What’s gotten into you – Kakashi’

“NO, I- gods, no- I didn’t mean! - not like THAT -Jesus Chris- -FUCK”

He let out the smallest exhale.

Then another.

Then he choked from trying to hold it back.  Breaking into something that shocked even him.

He laughed.

A short, sharp, disbelieving bark of laughter.

She stared at him, offended and relieved all in one. A whole new level of appreciation for the raven-haired boy before her, heavy under her ribs.

And then she was laughing too, unable to quiet her snort as the tension ripped free of her chest.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood

She stepped over the broken ceramic without looking at it. It had been two days, yet the shards still littered the dull wooden floors of her living room. She hadn’t been quite ready to acknowledge them yet – the fracture they represented.

She had steadied herself since. Made a fair effort to sew the raw flesh of her tattered emotions back together. But the thought of correcting the undoing in reality…No. Not yet. The mess could wait.

Slow hands filled the boiler, slender fingers clicking it to heat as she leant her hip against the counter. Her feet chilled on the wood below them, the cool of winter prickling exposed flesh. Only the thin, well-worn fabric of her oversized shirt stood between her rapidly depleting body heat and the mid December air.

The frayed hem brushed her thighs, much higher now, not brushing her knees like in recent years. Originally her fathers - It had been large, even on him; he’d pull it on for comfort after a mission, her tiny fingers tangled in it as he’d hold her tight on their lilac sofa, jasmine tea balanced on his knee.

She’d broken into her family home some days after the incident. Torn a handful of his comfort clothes from their hangers and stashed them under her cloak. Smuggling them into her bag, then back to the building she had chosen as safest to shelter in.

An abandoned Uchiha apartment.

After the massacre the year before, it had been a safe bet that there wouldn’t be enough footfall for her to be discovered.

Warm steam stroked her face, pulled her back into the present with the faint scent of green tea beneath her nose.

That battle torn, blood stained apartment had been the reason she had taken the apartment she now resided in. The Uchiha side of town had offered her the solitude she needed to… she huffed a humourless laugh, to what? Heal? No… It had offered her the solitude she had needed to survive. It had welcomed her into its darkness and shadows and cloaked her in them.

She hadn’t imagined that 8 years on, the clans abandoned things would once more offer her a lifeline.

‘Abandoned apartments, Pretty boys with eyes that see too much…Always seems to be a Uchiha coloured saviour, huh…’

Her head was clearer now. Controlled enough to evade the clutches of another spiral.

Controlled enough to think about him without flinching.

She replayed the night. The laughter. The weight in her chest.  His Sharingan burning though her mask.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“Kakashi.”
A ridiculous, accidental innuendo that had disarmed both of them for a second. She hadn’t had him down as the innuendo type. Had been shocked he’d even been capable of comprehending such suggestive assumptions at all.

She took a slow sip.

Their chest aching chuckles had subsided, and she’d moved into step beside him. Thoughts of ROOT missions fading with each foot fall.  She hadn’t elaborated…He hadn’t pried.

She’d circled back to his earlier weapon of choice, her teasing much more reflective of its usual lightness. No longer wielded as a weapon, instead worn as armour once more – covering the thrum the word had set off in her veins.

“Carry on and I’ll push you to the dirt again, sweetheart.”

‘Sweetheart’

The back and forth had returned, as if her mood hadn’t swallowed them both in wave of reckless emotion for a moment.

“Sweetheart, huh?... That’s new, Pretty Boy”

The faintest pink had tickled his cold cheeks. She’d allowed a gentle huff of a laugh.

“Shut up”. His Sharingan gone but dark eyes just as fierce, pout bordering on childish.

“And you didn’t push me anywhere…. you fell”

“I didn’t fall”.

“Uh huh… so how is it I ended up on top of you? … if you didn’t fall and so called ‘pushed me to the dirt’ “

A sharp look, a flicker of… embarrassment? Panic? … Something. Something tight and pointed and an indignant splutter.

If she were to make an educated guess after the ‘what’s gotten into you’ giggles…She’d be inclined to say the memory of her on top of him, her chest pressed to his, legs tangled had been the culprit of his fleeting panic…Just a guess.

“Shut up – you fell too”

“I think you’ll find I was dragged…and anyway, I’m not the ninja here am I- “

“Shut up”

Gods, she enjoyed him when he was sulking.

She rolled her eyes at the memory, a short breath of laughter escaping before she could stop it. “Sweetheart,” she muttered into her tea. She doubted the sobriquet would ever pass his lips again. No matter, the sound of it on his tongue was burned well into her memory.

When they’d reached the fork in the road, his gaze had lingered on her. She had felt its heat on her back, thrown over his shoulder for just a fleeting moment as she’d broken away and followed her heavy feet home. Long enough that she hadn’t returned to the cliffs since. It had been two days, and she’d avoided anywhere that might lead to a run-in like the plague.

He had seen her, she knew it – saw the flicker of it in those eyes. Confusion. Inquiry and … Concern? No. Definitely not. But it had made her feel…. recognised in a way that she’d become unfamiliar with all the same.

So, she’d hidden. Like the sulking coward she was.

And then, there was Kakashi.

His name less of a gut punch…a dwelling bruise in her chest. She needed to talk with him - Clear her boundary up and settle their dynamic back into its fragile lull.

She needed to stop being a baby and return to the cliffs…they were her cliffs first after all.

And she needed to clean her stupid apartment.

‘Erghh. Fine.

Well… Easiest first: Clean. Sasuke…then Kakasi – get to sweeping Hatake’

She drained the last of her tea, placing the mug next to the three others huddled at the edge of the sink… All tea stained and crying out to be washed.

‘Eh, not today chaps…Sorry’

She pushed off from the counter, bare feet padding softly as she located temperature appropriate clothes and her well battered house broom.

*****

Mid-December fog sat heavy over Training Ground Eleven, the air thick with its usual ridiculous chaos.

Naruto mid rant -breakfast, or sleep, or some imaginary injustice - Sasuke wasn’t listening. Sakura scolding in her scratchy, pitch of exasperation. He stood a few paces away, distancing himself as if stupidity was catching.

His expression schooled, held perfectly stoic by years of practice at being entirely uninterested.

His gaze drifted -silently, carefully - to Kakashi.
The jōnin lounged against a nearby tree, his book open, posture lazy, eye curved in that infuriating half-smile that willed you to believe he was away with the fairies, but that Sasuke knew meant he was tuned in to everything around him…. everything and everyone.

He watched his sensei longer than he should have.

Behind his dark eye’s images flashed. Sharp, ingrained in perfect detail.

Her movements from that night replayed, copied, catalogued. The uncharacteristic jolt of her hands. The curve of her lips, that smirk – pointed and predatory. Her eyes cold. Almost dead.

Far from those he knew; infuriatingly found himself looking for as he collected his groceries or trudged to team training.

To an untrained eye the shift may have seemed minor, gone unnoticed.

But she had been so far from herself.

Not the calm, collected annoyance that pushed him just enough - a bite, then laughter - before stepping back and letting him scowl at her while his brain flooded with unwanted endorphins.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Kakashi”

His slip had taken him entirely by surprise, he’d scolded himself internally until she’d cracked too. Tension tight around her eyes but life returned – steely and familiar. Zakka again.

He’d replayed it countless times, logic turning up nothing - couldn’t make it make sense.

He’d seen her that morning, disarming, annoying and - pressed against him.

‘No – Tch. Stop it’

He’d seen Kakashi at the memorial, sensed him in the village throughout the evening and Zakka was no where to be seen when their sensei had ‘stumbled’ across him and Naruto at Ichiraku.  Between Kakashi leaving the ramen stand and Sasuke starting home less than an hour later - Something had shattered her seemingly unshakable demeanour into pieces.

He couldn’t grasp what, in such little time, could encourage Zakka to implode, to push him past what they both knew he was comfortable with, allow herself to struggle messily in front of him … and then hide.

She’d not been at the cliffs for two days now.

He knew Zakka Hatake.

Recognised her patterns. And Zakka didn’t hide.
No. She layered herself with twisted humour and poked until his discomfort matched hers.

She was a rhythm he was beginning to recognise even outside of the cliffs. And she was consistent - Annoyingly so.

He tore his eyes away before Kakashi could meet them, berating himself for the way they had narrowed at his sensei’s shoulder. Sometime after, training had actually begun.

Kakashi had stood, the idiots had shut up momentarily and for a fleeting moment Sakura focused and Naruto’s brain was occupied by something other than being a moron.

They ran. They stretched. They sparred.
Naruto lunged too close. Sasuke deflected with minimal effort and a clenched jaw.

“Hey! Would you quit blocking every five seconds, you-!” Naruto huffed, skidding back into stance.

He raised a midnight brow. “That’s generally how sparring works, dobe.”

Naruto grumbled, breath puffing as he whispered childishly under his breath.

“You know, you really ARE an asshat.”

Sasuke stilled. Dark eyes found Naruto’s face for a fraction of a second. He didn’t notice how it had landed - too busy mumbling, wiping sweat from his forehead.

‘Asshat.’

That wasn’t Naruto’s insult … That was hers.

“You know, you really ARE an asshat” … She’d told Naruto he was an Asshat. He was throwing it back in his face entirely oblivious to the idea Sasuke could have ever entered into conversation enough with Zakka to recognise its origin.

His stomach tightened. A short, sharp clench and then, something uglier. He wasn’t sure why the thought of her and Naruto engaging in conversation bothered him.

But it did.

He didn’t dare look at his sensei.

Would he know too? Know they were her words, recognise that Sasuke knew.

Her voice cut through him once more, the shake in her tone and the pained flash in her eyes.

“Kakashi”.

She’d told him once their relationship was complicated…not for that night. He hated the strength of his desire to dissect it now.  His gut churned, possessive? No. A protective irritation pulsed under his ribs. His chakra pulsed before he could restrain it, drawing Kakashi’s gaze directly to him.

He sensed it - the convenient, nonchalant turn of a page, the subtle angling of his sensei’s head. His visible eye lingered on Naruto; He’d noted the slip. Then they slid to Sasuke.

He turned his back - sharp, immediate.

Self-preservation, unwillingness to allow Kakashi to read him; give an opportunity for him to read into them.

Something else bitter and unwelcome twisted just beneath his sternum.

An ache, in her honour.

For whatever had upset her. For the fact it bothered him.

His eyes bored into Naruto’s.

“Again,” Sasuke said flatly, stepping back into stance, not waiting for the blonde to reset.

Training continued.

Naruto complained. Sakura lectured. Kakashi pretended not to notice anything at all.

Sasuke kept his eyes forward, jaw tight, breath steady. Refusing to acknowledge the storm brewing beneath his ribs.

It had been two nights.

He was getting tired of the cold; the way it hit him head on without her next to him, a windbreak he’d gotten frustratingly used to.

He’d give her tonight.
If she didn’t show, He’d take a walk instead - past the rotting fence at the base of the woods and through the quiet apartments on the far side of the compound.

To keep warm.

Not to check there was a light on behind her window, or to search for a shadow he recognised…moving and alive.

No. Definitely, just to keep warm.

*****

As always, she sensed him before she saw him.

Her sandals whispered against the hard dirt of the worn in path – paved now by his feet as well as hers. She pulled her cloak tighter, silver strands trickling over the fabric with the movement as she leant into his familiar signature. Sharp, neat and restrained.  Unmistakably Sasuke.

She slowed her pace as she reached the clearing, the canopy above offering little shelter this far into the winter months. Her boots crunched on the frost-bitten leaves beneath them.

Purposeful.

A courtesy. To alert him of her arrival in the absence of her signature.

The clearing opened before her; the landscape painted in the deep blue of dusk. It brushed him too. The navy of his collar; stood rigid from beneath the hooded folds of his cloak, almost black against the backdrop. Seated on the fallen trunk, she noted even his cloak was adorned with a small Uchiha crest.

‘I bet even his underwear is branded with it’

She gave the tiniest shake of her head, cutting off any thoughts of Sasuke strutting around in his underwear. Odd. She had expected… something else.

A hitch in her breath. A spike of nerves. The old instinct to brace after two days of turmoil and solitude.

Instead, as her eyes swept the curve of the Uchiha symbol, relief rolled through her.

Quiet but immediate.

Her lungs expanded on a slow, steady exhale she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Her steely gaze skimmed over the familiar set of his shoulders, the sharp line of his profile, before she slid her eyes to the browning grass below her feet and continued into the clearing.

“Finished hiding, then.”

He didn’t turn, midnight eyes staying trained on the glistening lights below. His tone held no accusation. Stated deadpan, as a mere observation.

A huff of laughter slipped out of her before she could stop it. Laced with genuine surprise and gratitude.

“Yes,” she said, softer than she’d intended. “Yes, I have.”

He returned a scoff, no doubt rolling his eyes at her flippancy. Then he shifted. Barely. An inch, maybe two. Creating a slither of space beside him in the worn dip of the trunk.

A silent invitation, offered without questions or pressure. No consequences for upsetting their routine.

She felt it land in her chest.

She had been led to believe Sasuke Uchiha was emotionally devoid, cold. And though his exterior may look carved from ice, he had shown on more than one occasion that beneath that protective glacier, he was warmer than she had been prepared for.

Warm enough to accept her as she was and begin to warm her too.

‘Always surprising me, Pretty Boy… thank you.’

She crossed the remainder of the clearing, hand raising to wrap fingers around the bag strap against her shoulder. She swung it off, letting it settle near her dangling feet as she reclaimed her spot beside him.

Routine crept back in.

Gaze unmoving, pale hands shoved a mug into her peripherals. Own of his own, judging by the bland grey finish. She took it, wrapping cold fingers around the heat and sighing at the sensation of it seeping into her fingers. A shift beside her as he bent, grasping a second mug -just as mind numbingly bland – from his bag. She’d given no hint as to whether she’d return tonight…he’d brought two mugs anyway. Just in case. Her eyes softened on his profile, darting away swiftly to avoid discovery.

She brought the rim to her lips, held it there and blew against the soft tendrils of steam that rose from its watery depths. The faint scent of green tea found her, loosening he shoulders as she allowed herself to feel something close to safe once more.

The self-imposed solitude of the last few days had felt less like safety than she’d thought it would, and more like a (well-deserved) punishment.

Being here, in the open again, cold air biting her lungs, sharing silence with Sasuke again…It felt safer. More so than her own home if she were to be honest with herself.

The thought teased her mind before she could stop it; the terrifying thought, that she wasn’t entirely sure where the feeling originated from. The cliffs … or him.

She didn’t pull the thread. Not here. Unwilling to chase away the warmth in her bones that she had so desperately needed returned. Later…when she was alone in the shadows of her apartment, she’d worry about it then.

The wind picked up, rustling their cloaks and raising her shoulders against the bite – an undignified, disgruntled look painting her features. His gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, but the ghost of a smirk tugged at his mouth. He always took too much enjoyment in seeing her cold.

She aimed a childish glare at him. He raised a midnight brow, dark irises darting to her face fleetingly, before returning to the valley, smirk evolved into something strong and teasing.

A beat of silence passed.

The wind settled, her shoulders dropped and a small content sigh fogged the air in front of her face as she released it.

“You told Naruto I’m an asshat.”

Not a question.

Her head snapped toward him.

He raised his cup casually, taking a sip through that infuriating smirk, eyes still forward.

She blinked.

His eyebrow rose higher, threatening to breach his hairline. Amused. Not looking for a fight, just looking to disarm.

He’d got the reaction he wanted, his smirk stretching further into something horrifyingly close to a smile as the hint of a pout shaped her own lips.

She blinked again. Then she laughed.

A hearty, unguarded laugh that broke from her chest and rippled the air surrounding them.

She had told Naruto that Sasuke was an asshat.

 The bridge. The aftermath of his party.

“He’s an asshat Naruto…we know that. But he came. That asshat showed up… For you.”

And of course. Naruto, the loud-mouthed little traitor had dropped her in it.

He turned his gaze to her, slowly, holding hers, challenging her to deny it.

Her pout subsided, replaced by a toothy grin as she turned her gaze toward the village lights glittering below.

“I did…”

She tried. Tried so hard to keep her tone deadpan. But she couldn’t keep the smirk from leaking into it.

A darting side glance his way as a breathy chuckle left his lips.

A beat passed.

Her peripherals lingered on his profile, drinking in the shake of his head, the roll of his eyes…the way his cheeks dimpled when he actually smiled.

‘Mhmm…it’s good to be back’

She inhaled through her nose, steeling herself before placing her mug to the side, bending as her hands grasped her bag, unclipped it in a fluid motion and pulled a crumpled paper bag from its depths.

Sasuke’s peripherals tracked the movement – the sensation no longer foreign to her. She settled the bag in her lap as she spoke again, tone as casual as she could make it with the heavy thump of her pulse in her throat.

“You are an asshat. But… thank you.”

She reached inside, brown paper rustling and produced a tomato; deep red and glossy, catching the moonlight as she held it out toward him, eyes forced forward.

She paid attention, especially it seemed when it came to him. She’d concluded tomatoes were his favourite.

His breathing rhythm faltered, not a hitch but clear he was unsure how to react.

He turned to look at her, features tightened with confusion, eyes clouded with an unspoken question she heard clearly despite the lack of words.

The pinch in his brow asked, ‘Thank you for what?’

She met his gaze, casual but cautious. ‘You know what. Don’t make me say it.’

A quiet sigh left him as he took it from her hand and examined it with precision. He had nothing to worry about…She hadn’t poisoned them and they were the good kind. The expensive ones from the vendor on the far side of town.

He raised it to his mouth, tentative before sinking annoyingly straight teeth into the skin of the fruit.

She watched the motion from the corner of her eye, chest settling into something warm and steady at his acceptance of her gesture.

He had seen her. Yet he stayed.

No one ever stayed… Not for her.

She wouldn’t say it aloud. Never give it shape. But that night -him, that night - had meant more than she knew what to do with.

Fancy tomatoes were the least she could do.

Silence folded around them, heavy with unspoken words but easy still, unforced. The soft crunch of fruit, the rustle of paper. No expectations, no pressure.

She leant back slightly, muted grey mug in one hand, half eaten tomato in the other; the familiar hum of the cliffs settling beneath her skin.

‘Home.’

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

Her feet navigated the mid-morning hustle of the village; the fabric of her cloak brushed the exposed flesh below her knees. It was milder today, the air heavy with moisture as opposed to biting cold – it would rain tonight. She’d be sure to take an umbrella to the cliffs… He hated the rain.

Given the reprieve in icy wind, she’d thrown on the shorts it had been too bitter to wear for the last month, wrapped her shins and paired them with boots that reached the top of her calf.

Her apartment was clean. Well... The mess of her outburst had been rectified. The sink was still full, her bed remained unmade and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d processed any washing. Eh, she had vowed to sweep up the broken shards – and sweep she had.

Task one, complete.

Next on the list had been Sasuke. Returning to routine at the cliffs before her absence stretched past something able to be poked at in jest and into awkward discomfort. She had purchased a batch of wildly overpriced tomatoes, returned to the cliffs, bared her offering to the Uchiha and dutifully mocked him into the night.

Task two, complete.

Which left only one task:

Kakashi.

Cleaning had been troublesome but easy enough. Returning to the cliffs and taunting Sasuke had been fine, fun even. But the thought of sitting down with her brother, holding a mature, uncomfortable conversation that neither party wished to partake in....No, she wasn’t much looking forward to completing the final task on her list.

She had a good idea how it would go – the same way it always did.

She’d voice her boundary. He’d bristle and get defensive. Bitterness would rise. He’d bite. She’d make to leave to avoid escalation. He’d lower his mask and apologise, showing sincerity just a moment too late. Then they’d pretend they’d fixed it and continue bubbling under the surface until next time.

She’d thought about putting it off. Brushing it under the metaphorical rug and being done with it.

But she knew it was needed if she wished to keep any form of fragile relationship with her trauma tainted brother. Their dynamic was still strained from years of ill pointed blame and unspoken hurt, but he was worlds away from the cold, cruel teen she’d grown up adjacent to.

A resigned sigh passed her lips, bouncing off the fabric of her cloak that her chin nestled in and warming her face. She turned her attention inwards, trusting her feet to navigate her safely as her senses trickled through the village like thirsty roots until they found purchase – Potent and heavy but neat; coiled tightly and near impossible to find should you not be familiar with the Hatake brand of deadly chakra.

Training ground 5.

Her favourite.

She adjusted her path, boots silent against the dirt, nothing more than a whisper passing through the busy street as she let herself be led toward the far corner of the village, where the grounds opened into quiet stretches of earth and towering red cedars. There was a handful of them within training ground 5. They rose tall and straight against the darkening sky, bark rough and scarred from decades of use, branches spreading wide and high.

Trees meant for climbing.

A ghost of a smirk tugged at her mouth.

They used to race.

Images flashed behind her steely gaze. A ten-year-old Kakashi, stupid mask already firmly in place, silver hair stood on end as it always had but his face full of childish youth, eyes glistening in superiority even then, but kind none the less. A six-year-old Zakka, arms crossed against her chest, chubby cheeks puffed in a ridiculous pout. Father was away on another mission and so she had been left at the mercy of her grumpy, competitive older brother. He’d been tasked with clearing the washing up while in charge and he had no desire to do so. And so, he’d challenged her to their usual decider…Climb a tree the fastest. Loser washes up.

He'd always steal a head start. Throw himself at his chosen tree before her stubby legs had the chance to move. A flash of silver from halfway up the trunk as her fingers scrambled to reach the next branch of her own trunk. A minute or two of youthful grumblings and groans of exertion and then Kakashi would sit pretty a top his towering tree, arms crossed, face smug. She’d claw her way to the top of her tree, adjacent to his and lift an accusatory finger “Chakra’s cheating Kashi!”

“Tch. You’re just a sore loser, Ka”

No Chakra…it was the only rule and he ALWAYS broke it.

He always won.

She climbed by the rules anyway. Enjoyed it. The burn in her arms and the pull of her core as she trusted her body strength to carry her upwards. Choosing each branch with precision as she climbed higher, air thinning, sharpening until it tasted like freedom.

Then things had changed.

He had distanced himself. Pulled away.

She heard whispers in the village that Kakashi was being nominated to become a jōnin. That ANBU might be on the cards shortly too. And then their father –

She stopped that thought before it could finish. Far too close to the anniversary of the event to allow it.

After that tree climbing became much less of a game and much more of a necessity. A survival instinct. A way out. And these days… nothing more than a training method. Maybe she could rectify that – just for today.

She reached the training ground and slowed, pausing to lean casually against the gate as she observed the scene before her. The poignant backs of Team 7 stood clustered near the far edge of the field, framed by the cedars from her childhood.

Her eyes swept over them, observant and sharp. Reading the obvious and the undertones before she allowed her announcement. Naruto’s garish orange jumpsuit blinding even from a distance. Sakura’s frustration at something (Naruto, probably) her arms crossed against her chest, shoulders high with tension and an angry scowl on her face. And Sasuke. Hands stuffed into his pockets, back tense with brooding, his chin taut and turned toward the forest to the teams left – disinterested with a sprinkling of annoyance.

Her brother stood before them. His posture terrible and oozing with laziness. One hand in his trouser pocket, the other twirling a kunai on his index finger; half lidded eye dull as if not really seeing any of the students before him. Except she knew he saw them all. Saw her too. She’d caught the flicker in her direction as she’d stilled.

She sharpened her senses, picking up the nonchalant drawl of her brother’s tone as she pushed off the metal framework beside her and stepped forward. Silently, she crossed the clearing, Team 7’s backs growing taller with each ghost like step.

They didn’t see her. Didn’t hear her. Had no hope in sensing her.

Kakashi gave nothing away, continuing to lecture his bunch of misfits, his gaze not acknowledging her any further, despite her approach.

She avoided Sasuke.

The most perceptive and the most likely to draw curiosity. Her brother may look half asleep, but that stupid sleepy eye saw everything. Instead, she slunk into the space between Naruto and Sakura, just a step behind them before she made herself known.

She kept her gaze on her brother and as he came to a natural pause in breath, his visible grey eye found hers.

Her voice, soft but final, sliced through the quiet like a blade.

“Yakiniku Q tonight at 6pm – I need to talk to you”

*****

“Yakiniku Q tonight at six — I need to talk to you.”

Sakura jumped out of her skin.

Inner Sakura screamed -shrill and indignant -as the words materialised out of thin air, cutting neatly through the space next to her and Naruto. He barked out a startled, undignified squawk followed by a full body flail that sent him crashing face first into the grass.

“OW-WHAT THE -HEY! WHERE’D YOU COME FROM-?!”

Sakura huffed an irritated sigh but barely spared him a glance.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Sasuke-Kun’s head snap sharply toward the sound too, those perfect, dark eyes widening just a fraction before narrowing again. Shock, unmistakable; mirrored in the tight line of his jaw.

‘Good.’

At least she wasn’t the only one startled by the increasingly annoying silver-haired intrusion.

Her thoughts reeled, high-pitched and offended.

‘Why is Kakashi-sensei’s sister showing up everywhere lately?’

‘The team is full. We don’t need her input.’

Inner Sakura piped up, annoyingly reasonable: ‘She’s not here to give input. She asked her brother to dinner, idiot.’

‘Ergh, Shut up!’

 She snapped back internally. ‘She still doesn’t need to be here. Her and her stupid fancy-smelling hair can butt out!’ She made a point of not looking at the girl beside her.

Instead, her gaze slid over Naruto’s shoulder, landing fully on Sasuke-Kun.

The clench of her jaw softened as her bight eyes took him in. She searched his face, desperate to read his reaction. Hoping - praying - for annoyance. Disapproval. Maybe even that familiar look of disdain he gave to girls who lingered too close in the village streets.

The kind that said get away from me without the need for words.

Her stomach dropped.

That wasn’t the look on his face at all.

Sasuke-Kun’s eyes were trained on her…on Zakka Hatake. Intent, curious. Almost Intrigued.

No disgust. No dismissal. His face wasn’t twisted as if being forced to sniff one of Naruto’s socks…

It wasn’t fair.

Sakura pouted, pink brows pinched, lips pressed into a thin line as she dragged her gaze away, irritation sharp and sour. Naruto was back on his feet, scratching the back of his head and shouting something loud and nonsensical Sakura didn’t bother listening to.

Emerald eyes narrowed as they landed on the girl at last.

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, hugging herself as she took her in properly.

‘What’s so special about her anyway’

Sure, she was tall. Taller than Sakura, probably by a whole head – closer to Sasuke-Kun’s height. Long, slender legs, a lean frame that made her look deceptively light. Silver hair -stupidly, shiny - fell loose down her back, a few inches shorter than Sakura’s but full and healthy, catching the winter light, begging for attention.

She was pale.

‘Ha. Boys didn’t like pale girls.’

Though - annoyingly - her ghostly pale skin was smooth, unblemished like porcelain. And her eyes -

Sakura wanted to hurl.

They were ringed with thick black lashes, slanted at the corners in a way that felt unfair. Feline. Sophisticated. A steely grey, flecked with crystalline blue that caught and held the light captive without even trying.

The fact that Sasuke-Kun was yet to look away from her confirmed it.

 Sakura didn’t like Zakka Hatake.

Jealousy bubbled hot and ugly in her chest.

Kakashi-sensei’s response broke through her glare. She’d been so caught up in her distaste, she’d almost forgotten Zakka had spoken in the first place.

“I have plans.”

Sakura’s attention snapped forward, back to her sensei. The siblings faced each other, both voices low, matching in their infuriatingly casual tones. Sakura didn’t miss the authoritative undertones threaded through both of them - the similarity suddenly obvious so up close.

“Then change them,” Zakka replied easily. “You can help the old lady tomorrow.”

“I was actually going to be watering my plant tonight.”

Sakura bristled. ‘Mr Yuki …He definitely deserves Kakashi-Sensei’s attention more than she does.’

“Kakashi,” Zakka said, tone sharpening just slightly. The change wiped Naruto’s face blank, a small widening of his eyes. Sasuke-Kun’s narrowed, becoming sharper. “There’s a conversation to be had…” a minimal tilt of her head, eyes scolding, voice low “Please don’t make me parent you in front of your kids.”

Sakura’s eyes flicked to Kakashi-sensei’s face. She could see it - the tension in his jaw, the hardness in his visible eye.

He was annoyed.

‘Good’ She thought sharply. ‘Maybe she’ll go away.’

Her gaze couldn’t help itself, sliding back to Sasuke-Kun’s handsome face. He was still watching Zakka, brow pinched, jaw tight and… not angry. With sharp focus and… Interest? He had never looked at HER like that.

‘Sasuke-Kun? - Stop looking at her, damn it.’

Zakka sighed, closing her eyes for a beat, chin dipping. When she opened them again, they were bright - playful - a stark contrast to the flat seriousness from a second ago. She chewed her lip briefly before -

“Sorry, I- A race, then?”

Sakura’s face crumpled in confusion.

‘A race? Against Kakashi-sensei? Aha!  good luck!’

Zakka jerked her chin toward the trees behind him. “You get to the top first; I’ll leave you to water your stupid plant.”

‘Hey, it is NOT a stupid – ‘

“I make it first,” she continued smoothly, “Yakiniku Q. Six o’clock.”

She raised a silver brow.

Kakashi-sensei studied her, gaze flicking between the trees and his delusional sister. She took a single step forward. Silent. Infuriatingly graceful.

‘Creepy’.

A beat.

Then with startling speed -

Kakashi-sensei lunged forward, shoving his sister sharply at the shoulder, causing her to grunt and Naruto to yelp indignantly in her honour, as the jōnin spun away in one fluid movement, tearing toward the nearest tree like a kid spotting presents on Christmas morning.

Zakka staggered two steps back before catching herself, a pouting scowl taking over her features. Sakura gasped as her sensei’s foot hit bark with a heavy crunch and he began his climb.

“HEY KAKASHI-SENSEI! BAKKA – USE YOU’RE CHAKRA, YOU’LL-”

“Core strength only, Naruto-Kun,” Zakka cut in, voice sweet and not at all patronising. No wonder Naruto thought she was so great. She babied him with that sugar and spice and all things nice act. As she continued, her voice lifted an octave, unmistakably pointed at Kakashi-sensei “In this race…Chakra is cheating!”

‘How immature.’

Sakura was sure she could climb that tree just fine, chakra or not.

Her eyes darted to Kakashi-sensei. He hadn’t got far. And, strangely, he wasn’t making it look all that easy.

Zakka stepped forward.

One step. Then two.

Her eyes scanned the tree beside Kakashi’s. From the lowest branches to the very top with methodical precision. And then she ran.

Straight at the trunk.

Her cloak billowed as her boots hit bark. Once, twice, three times - each step vertical, controlled. She was already metres up as she pushed off, launching herself higher, arms reaching out and catching a thick branch above her head. Muscles tensed under pale skin as she lifted her body weight until she knelt on the branch with infuriating ease, before rising and promptly propelling herself upwards once again.

In seconds, she was less than two feet behind Kakashi-sensei.

He may not have made it look easy…But she did.

‘Typical…of course she’s great at everything! Erghh’

“WHAAA—?!” Naruto’s voice echoed across the field.

Sakura’s jaw threatened to drop. She clamped it shut stubbornly.

Sasuke-Kun was still watching her. There was something new in his expression. She couldn’t place it…But she didn’t like it.

‘Gods’, Sakura thought bitterly with a pout. ‘Zakka Hatake sucks’

She kept climbing. Fast and nimble.

Limbs finding just the right places as she leapt rapidly through thinning branches.

She overtook him.

Sakura’s jaw betrayed her, lips parting, allowing a disbelieving breath to escape them.

Kakashi-sensei huffed, stalling to glare across at his infuriating sister. “You’re lighter than me,” he muttered. “You’ve got an unfair advantage.”

A sharp laugh rang out above them. “That’s a funny way of saying stronger, Kashi.”

‘Kashi? Ew. How childish’

“Anyway,” Zakka continued lightly, calling down over her shoulder. “aren’t you an elite shinobi? Who’s got the real advantage here? What - you neglect physical drills in your training?” She paused, grin audible in her voice. “Up you come, fat ass!”

Naruto nearly hacked up a lung as he burst into crude cackles. One arm clutching his stomach, the other pointed at his teacher in accusatory amusement “AHAHA -FAT ASS, KAKASHI-SENSEI!”

From the corner of her eye, even Sasuke-Kun covered a laugh, smirk brightening his eyes before he turned his face away to hide it.

Kakashi-sensei growled, pushing higher. They were near the top now - where the branches thinned and couldn’t bear weight.

‘Ha.’ She’d be stuck.

He was almost level now.

Zakka glanced sideways at him, smirk firmly in place. Sakura scowled.

‘What is she so smug about? She can’t go any higher without chakra and apparently ‘Chakra is cheating’.’

The soles of her boots settled on bark.

One hand left the trunk. Reached for her cloak.

Kakashi-sensei stalled beside her.

Dissecting.

She whipped the cloak free from her neck, swung it around the trunk, catching the other end in her opposite hand. A quick wrap. A roll of her wrists. A sharp tug.

And then once again; she climbed.

Leaning her weight against the tightly secured cloak, her feet rose, walking vertically along the trunk. Using the fabric like an anchor, moving it upward with a masterful flick each time her feet got close. She propelled herself upward, higher, and higher until -impossibly - she reached the top…

A full body-length above Kakashi-sensei.

Her face lit up in immature glee as Kakashi-sensei glared up at her.

Sakura clenched her fists at her sides. Gloves creaking with the motion as her features fell into yet another scowl.

She really disliked the girl.

But infuriatingly, she couldn’t help the awe in her thoughts.

She had beaten Kakashi-Sensei…And annoyingly, Sakura was impressed.

*****

She balanced easily atop the cedar; boots planted, unworried, on the branch below them. One hand lay against the rough bark of the tree’s main trunk, the other clutched the balled fabric of her cloak, redundant now that she had reached the tree’s peak.

Wind threaded through the canopy, tugging loose strands of silver hair across her cheek. Below, the training ground felt a world away. Voices muted, figures small.

Kakashi stood opposite her on his neighbouring tree, one arm hooked lazily around the trunk, posture relaxed despite the height. His visible eye flicked over her once, unimpressed.

“You’ve gotten fast” He murmured, voice low, meant only for her.

She huffed a soft laugh.

 “Or, you’ve gotten slow,” She raised a brow and scanned his bored looking face. “You rely too much on your chakra.”

A breath escaped him, amused despite himself. “That’s no point having the stuff if you can’t use it, Ka.”

She chuckled softly, the sound light.

“True, I guess. But you should add more physical training into their schedules,” she said, eyes drifting downward. “Naruto’s looking at me like I sprouted three heads just from climbing a tree.”

Kakashi followed her gaze. His eye softened as he took in his students below – blinding orange pacing, arms flailing in animated excitement. Pink stood rigid with annoyance, tension clear in her tightly folded arms, gaze flicking between the silver haired pair above and her raven-haired teammate. Midnight spikes stood still and sharp.

Kakashi sighed, the sound fond and tired all at once.

She kept her eyes trained on Team 7, her voice passing her lips soft and unaccusatory.

“I’ll pay ... But we do need to talk Kash”

She raised her gaze, catching his as it swept her features, sleepy eye, alert under the feigned boredom. He offered a singular nod in agreement. She smiled at him, an eye closing smile – the type he’d give his students to lull them into the false pretence of everything being okay. When she opened them, her smile remained, steely eyes taking in the bird’s eye view of the village over her shoulder.

“It’s been a while huh” She felt his gaze find her profile as he hummed in agreement. The breeze caught her. Cooled her cheeks and blew her hair, wrapping it loosely around her neck. Carrying her hushed voiced across the small distance between them. “You’d always win….”

They both exhaled a laugh at the memories from their shared childhood. He closed his eye, the breath of winter catching him too, swaying his gravity defying mop gently. “Hmm… And you’d throw yourself at the ground to punish me…” Their eyes met. Steel on steel. Softened by memory of similar times.

She chuckled.

A teasing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“A good training exercise… And it’s fine, you were always quick enough to catch me”.

He took her in. She allowed it. Embraced the discomfort that whispered under her skin for showing him too much, being vulnerable with some one who once caused her so much pain.

‘He raced… He didn’t cheat. He’s trying, Zak’

He was trying.

An eye closing smile… A real one. Not forced or extravagant. A soft curve of her mouth and a gentle closing of her eyelids; lashes tickling her cheeks.

When she opened them once more, mischief sparked, quick and bright, blooming across her features.

He saw it. His own features shifting from quiet gratitude to warning exasperation.

“Don’t,” he warned, already knowing. “Zakka.”

‘Too late.’

She threw her cloak at him, the wind teasing it as it crossed between the trees. He caught it, one handed with ease. Then, she shifted her weight, working along the branch with steady balance, bark creaking beneath her boots as she turned outward. She raised her arms out to her sides dramatically, as if offering herself to the winter elements. Air rushed past, lifting her hair, snapping it gently behind her as she turned and held his gaze.

“Shall we see if you’ve still got it?” she said lightly.

“Zakka-”

His tone lower now, cautious.

She raised an eyebrow at him in challenge. Then raised her voice, pitching it down, ensuring it would be heard clearly from the ground. “Hey, Kashi… catch!”

His eye widened.

He lunged for her, hand stretching across the gap between the trees - but she was already gone.

She pushed back cleanly from the branch, toes pressing off hard as she arched herself into the air, away from the main trunk of her tree, away from his strong outstretched arms – far enough out to allow her to fall freely, without the tree’s canopy snagging her as she went.

Air roared past her ears as gravity took hold, baggy jumper flailing with the air pressure, entangling itself around her like a foreshadowing embrace, as her heartbeat raced in her chest.

As the world titled, she closed her eyes and succumbed.

Chapter Text

Chi no Shukumei

Chi no Shukumei – Destiny written in blood.

The world dropped out from beneath her feet. Above her, a flicker of silver, and familiar distortion of chakra - Kakashi vanished. She didn’t hear the pop as her brothers form twisted out of existence, but her eyes caught the movement, engulfed in a soft wisp of smoke.

A warmth bubbled under her ribs, both sharp and fond all at once. He was playing along. Leaning into the past and letting the nostalgia breathe.

He’d catch her. Like he always had.

Chaos erupted below her. Naruto shouting, slamming footsteps, a shrill shriek from Sakura.

She allowed her lashes to kiss her cheeks as soft laugh left her lips - a quiet, breathless sound torn loose by the free fall, by the simple joy of not having to brace, to think or prepare.

Her hair whipped at her with tendrilled fingers, lashing at her neck, twisting around it and tickling her collar bones; exposed from the violent twist of her jumper.

Her back found skin and bone.

Arms locked around her centre. The catch rough but the hold steady and unyielding. The impact knocked the air from her lungs as her body jolted hard against theirs. Instinct reacted before thoughts caught up. She curled herself inward, leaning into the catch and fitting herself to the frame behind. A thread of chakra pulsed through her bloodwork in a quick, controlled rush; to bleed off some momentum and smooth the violence of the descent.

Arms held firm but footing faltered, both bodies tilting.

Something wasn’t right.

His scent it her – filled her nose.

Not Kakashi.

Not oil and worn leather and the pages of his smutty books.

Instead, her senses flooded with weapon polish, smoke and… pine. The wrong kind of familiar, but familiar none the less. Unmistakeable.

Sasuke Uchiha.

Her eyes flew open, gaze met immediately by the deep blue fabric of his oversized collar. Her fingers grasped it, clutching it tight, trapping it in the ball of her fist as the body against her twisted. A messy heel dug into the dirt with a harsh scrape, torque ripping sideways as Sasuke tuned them both, their trajectory turning toward the ground. His shoulder took the brunt of the impact with a sharp, sickening crack that vibrated through her ribs and echoed into the clearing.

They slammed into the ground hard.

In the edge of her vision, a flash of silver. Kakashi. No more than two feet away, chakra coiled and ready, stance poised but stalled mid motion. Ready to catch her before he had allowed the scene to play out and let Sasuke get there first.

The force carried them through a rough roll, dirt and leaves exploding around them as the world spun. Her silver hair tangled with dried needles and snapped twigs, jumper twisting uselessly between them until they tumbled to a stop.

For the second time in as many weeks, she landed flush atop him.

Chest to chest. Breath to breath. His arms still locked around her as if letting go hadn’t even occurred to him yet. Her heartbeat thundered against his, wild and uneven, the rhythm of it bleeding messily into her own.

For one suspended moment, neither moved.

Midnight eyes found hers. Startled and blown wide, unguarded in a way she had never seen before. Close enough that she could count his lashes. Thick, dark lashes, curved gently upwards towards his raised eyebrows. Close enough that the heat of him soaked through her ruffled clothes and straight into her.

She didn’t miss the tiniest lift in Kakashi’s eyebrow, in her peripherals.

A wordless jest. A silent ‘oh?’

She barked out a laugh.

Allowed it to tear free of her chest, loud and unrestrained, bubbling up until she undoubtedly seemed mad. Nostalgia and adrenaline pulsing through her veins.

She unfurled her fingers from his collar, shifted her legs from between his, ignoring the twitch in his thigh as she rolled her body off him – onto her back beside him, laughter still echoing bright against the tall trees as her heightened emotions finally began to burn off.

Sasuke scrambled away like he’d been struck - Bolt upright and shoved himself back on his hands, breath sharp and cheeks flushed as he put distance between them swiftly, movements clunky and awkward and so unlike Sasuke. He sat a few feet away, posture rigid, one hand lifting instinctively to his shoulder. A brief wince flickering across his face before it vanished behind iron control.

She dragged in a breath, laughter subsided but still grinning like a maniac, gaze no longer on the raven haired Uchiha, but on the canopies above her, the sky beyond it as dried leaves crunched beneath her head.

“HEY TEME!! WHY’D YOU SHOVE ME HUH?! - I WAS GUNNA CATCH HER DAMMIT!”

Naruto’s crass tone cut across the clearing, ringing in her ears and bouncing off the tree’s surrounding them as he stomped toward her landing spot.

Then Sakura joined the party. Unmoved from her previous spot, face washed pale and hands balled shakily at her side. One hand raised, trembling as her finger extended, thrust accusingly in Zakka’s direction.

“You’re insane! What were you thinking -You could have hurt Sasuke-Kun!”

Her head flew in Naruto’s direction, pink hair flailing with the sharp movement. Her finger followed her gaze.

“It’s no wonder you like her so much Naruto! She’s just as stupidly impulsive as you are!”

Zakka’s breath hiccupped, surprised by the depth of ice in the girl’s tone. Fuelled from genuine dislike not just fearful adrenaline.

Kakashi cleared his throat and stepped toward Zakka, eye lazy but alert as it cast its gaze sideways toward his bubble-gum haired student. Sakura understood the message. She lowered her point and cast her gaze to her toes, a faint flush of embarrassment colouring her cheeks.

Silver strands rustled against the grass as she turned her head slightly, eyes falling sideways toward the Uchiha who had caught her when she wasn’t his to catch.

He still sat a few feet away, spine straight, jaw locked so tight it looked like it might crack. One hand still hovered near his shoulder, fingers flexing once before curling into his palm. He refused to look at her.

She closed her eyes as a shadow cast over her.

“How about…” Zakka drawled, still flat on her back, arms spread loosely in the grass as she tilted her head toward the familiar masked silhouette. “We make it lunch instead.”

She cracked one eye open at Kakashi, silver lashes brushing her cheek.

“Unless” she added mildly, “you have other plans?”

A brow lifted in quiet challenge.

Kakashi looked down at her. Then, deliberately, he let his gaze move past her, sweeping over the scattered students of Team 7.

Naruto stood, outrage queued up and ready to fire. Sakura still silently fuming. Sasuke sat on the ground, glowering at the dirt as if it had personally offended him.

Kakashi hummed.

“Nope,” he said lazily. “Nothing important.”

“What?!” Naruto yelped. “HEY-!”

Sakura spluttered, indignant. “-But sensei!”

Zakka’s grin widened, her tone bright. “Wonderful news.”

Kakashi stepped forward.

She shot her hand up as her neared her. He caught it easily - fingers closing around her wrist as he hauled her smoothly to her feet without breaking stride, already turning toward the training ground exit.

She laughed under her breath as she steadied herself, before falling neatly into step beside him, boots crunching over the wintered burnt grass as they walked away.

Behind them, indignant chaos bloomed.

At the edge of the grounds, she glanced back – Steely gaze cast over her shoulder, at none of them in particular, eyes full of steely mischief.

She offered an eye-closing smile and, just to be cruel, flicked her tongue out in a brief, teasing poke.

The reaction was satisfying and immediate.

She drifted closer to Kakashi, he bumped his shoulder lightly into hers in a small, familiar nudge as their feet moved in unison.

“Lunch it is,” she said.

Kakashi huffed a quiet laugh as they left the training grounds behind them, both sets of silver hair catching the light as they headed toward the village - toward grilled meat, unfinished conversations, and a boundary that had been left unspoken too long.

*****

They sat across from one another at Yakiniku Q as they ate.

Well - she ate.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, posture loose, one elbow hooked casually over the backrest. His mask stayed firmly in place, lifting only in brief, efficient motions so he could shovel food into his mouth at speed before it dropped back down again, hiding the act entirely. No one could accuse Hatake Kakashi of lacking discretion.

Zakka, meanwhile, picked methodically at the spread in front of her, chopsticks deft, expression neutral. One hand ate. The other worried the edge of a napkin, folding and unfolding it with quiet, restless precision.

His hands remained out of sight beneath the table.

Still. Locked together. Tensed just enough to keep them from fidgeting.

He knew better than to let them twitch. She’d see through the tell in a heartbeat.

He waited. Respected her discomfort and let her lead.

As he waited, his thoughts catalogued the events from the training ground. He’d had his suspicions, ever since Sasuke had materialised at Ichiraku opposite Naruto with a face like thunder. The night Kakashi had encroached on her space, with cloaked assumptions no less. He’d noticed her absence in the following days. He hadn’t been the only one. The Uchiha’s mood had been sour, dark eyes had tracked him, sharp and assessing and lingered too long for the movement to be a conscious thought. Not only had Sasuke seemingly clocked his sister’s absence, but he’d also come to an assumption of his own as to what -or who- had caused it.

Then he’d caught her. Without hesitation. Throwing Naruto to the dirt with a harsh forearm to the chest as he had barrelled towards her free-falling form.  And Kakashi had witnessed the look she’d given him afterward.

He replayed the catch more than once in his mind. His speed. The raw focus in the boy’s dark eyes – and then the furious, panicked retreat afterward, like he hadn’t meant to move at all.

Something had definitely aligned Sasuke Uchiha with his sister.

But not a thought for now. For another day.

Zakka broke the silence.

“You can’t come to my apartment, Kash.”

Blunt. Hurried. Like ripping off a bandage before courage could falter.

The sting came immediately. Sharp and defensive - a familiar heat in his chest that pushed for release. His jaw tightened before he could stop it.

He took a breath.

Ran his index finger slowly along the seam of his weapons pouch beneath the table. Grounding.

He always got defensive. And she always ended up frustrated, tired of being the emotional lead, leaving before another fracture could form.

It was his turn to be the grown up.

“…Okay,” he said simply. His visible eye never left her face.

Her gaze stayed firmly on her food as she gave a short nod, accepting the answer at face value.

“It’s not - I just…”

She exhaled heavily, shoulders lifting before settling again. A silent look that screamed ‘get it together’, passed over her expression. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier. Clearer. “It’s the one place the past hasn’t touched. I need it to stay that way.”

Something in his chest loosened.

Not relief, but an understanding tinged in guilt. He looked at her.

Really looked at her.

Not the memory of the little girl he’d failed. Not the echo of the little sister who’d waited for him to come home from training, the same one he’d abandoned in the cold when she had needed someone most. No, his gaze took in the young woman across from him - composed, measured, emotionally intelligent in a way that still caught him off guard.

She had every reason to shut him out completely.

Instead, she was here. Eating lunch with him. Setting boundaries like anchors instead of walls.

Father had once told him he had an old head on young shoulders.

He’d been wrong.

He’d had been immature. Pig headed. Avoidant and selfish in his grief. Still was, really.

Zakka… Zakka was everything their father had hoped he would be.

Strong – both physically and mentally. Level-headed. Kind even when she shouldn’t be.

Their father would have been proud of her.

Kakashi was proud of her.

‘So, tell her.’

He cleared his throat quietly and gave a small, deliberate kick to her shin beneath the table.

She startled, chopsticks pausing mid-air as her eyes snapped up to his, sharp and questioning.

“I’m proud of you,”

A tiny gasp escaped her before she could stop it. Colour bloomed across her cheeks, soft and disbelieving. For a moment, she looked utterly wrong-footed – uncharacteristically speechless.

He huffed a dry chuckle. “Don’t make it weird,” he added, already bracing. “You grew up, Zakka, and you did it well.”

The smile beneath his mask was small. Genuine. She saw it anyway - she always did.

“I won’t come to your apartment again,” he continued quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

A beat passed.

Her gaze swept his face, searching - not for lies, but for intent. Then she dipped her chin and murmured, barely audible, “Thank you.”

Something settled between them. The tension didn’t vanish, but it eased. Shifted into something that felt more manageable. She reached for his plate without looking. Stole a piece of beef straight off his grill and dropped it onto her own like it had always been hers to take.

Kakashi blinked.

Then huffed softly - more fond than annoyed. They broke the moment the only way a Hatake should.

With sarcastic humour.

He leaned back, hands lacing behind his head, ankles crossing beneath the table as he offered her that familiar, eye-closing smile. “So,” he drawled lightly, “Last I heard Sasuke stole your man from under your nose…Now the Uchiha’s your knight in shining armour?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Eh, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?” A wicked grin tugged at her mouth. A small sarcastic shrug tossed his way.  “Why stop at just one handsome man when you can have two.”

He shook his head, a short, sharp chuckle slipping free.

The air warmed. Laughter softened the edges. Something fragile but hopeful took root in his chest. A sense that this, just maybe, could be the first step forward instead of another false start.

As the laughter faded, he spoke again, quieter now.

“You know I’d have caught you,” he said. “I was curious to see how the kids would act but ... I’d always catch you.”

Her eyes met his.

A soft smile curved her lips - appreciative, knowing.

She nudged his shin lightly in return.

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”