Chapter Text
Pride, Sasuke knows, is the worst of all sins. As a traveler of countries far and wide, villages as obscure as a fleeting dream kissing the cusp of consciousness, and having learnt their traditions and customs—each unique and riveting like a siren’s song—he knows, with utmost confidence that their folklore and parables are different: the Land of Frost favours spirits while the Land of Flowers claim oni, and they’re a rinnegan-travelled world apart from the fables taught in the Land of Fire. Despite this difference, there is a hidden stream of unity that connects them all. Each story teaches some sort of moral message told to naughty children before they fall into slumber, whether it be kindness or friendship and love—all things Sasuke has forsaken. Epics of valiant heroes against villains and monsters submerged in sin. (He reckons in every variation of the tales, he’d be the monster children are warned of.)
However, in each story, parable, folktale, they all teach that pride is the worst of all sins.
Pride, Sasuke knows, is a sin he’s all too familiar with. He feels it run in his blood with tenacity of katon fire.
For the Uchiha clan, disgraced and rejected by their home, pride was the one thing they had. Have, Sasuke should really say, considering he, second-best, second-son, holds onto his Uchiha pride like it's a lifeline in the relentless torment of life. (Uzushio’s whirlpools couldn’t compete, barely even compare to Sasuke’s mind.)
It’s this same pride which has confined him to this stalemate.
Now, in the midst of a cool Summer in the Land of Iron, Sasuke is perched on the balcony of his hotel room, looking at the railing where a slimy, green toad had previously stood holding a letter from his closest friend, rival in arms and brother in all but blood.
Fondly, Sasuke runs his fingers along the folds of the envelope, feeling the quality of the paper. Way too expensive for any of the nonsense the dobe writes.
Despite all the time that has passed, Sasuke finds Naruto has remained much the same, to an almost humorous degree: the same tenacity, determination, selflessness and selfishness. It's a comfort that tethers him back to the real world when he finds himself lost in the melancholy of his life. Naruto has pined and chased after him longer than they had ever been together and somewhere deep in Sasuke’s chest, it pains him as well. Maybe that's why he secretly enjoys whenever another toad shows up in front of him, holding a pale blue letter with faint ramen broth stains he knows could only come from one person. It’s such an exceedingly vulnerable feeling, that nostalgic rhapsody that warms his heart. But he’ll never admit that.
And, he never has to, because Sakura knows. Sakura always knows.
Sasuke doesn’t have to say anything—not even breathe out a mumbled monosyllable—do anything, because all Sakura has to do is look at him with her stupidly big, jade eyes, always full of tears and way too telling for any self-respecting shinobi and in an instant he’s enveloped in the love, love, love he’s never deserved nor asked for.
Sakura is the storm that comes without warning, a plague that invades without permission, a flower that blooms uncaring of drought and burrows deep down into his veins till he’s choking on the sheer warmth radiating in her seafoam green eyes.
It’s disconcerting. That overwhelming intimacy of her gaze.
With no special doujustu or clan, she peers directly into his soul and manages to see what he can’t: something to salvage, someone to love.
He hates it, but he can’t hate her.
So he ignores every message she sends. Each envelope sits at the bottom of his travel-pack, unopened and slightly wrinkled, one pink, the next purple, another red. Seal closed. The gates to salvation or suffering remain forever out of reach. Whenever he reaches to place the letters under folded clothing and field rations he tells himself, this is best.
Sasuke can almost imagine with perfect clarity what each one looks like: the neatest hand-writing she can muster—curly cursive swoops on each line through a ‘t’, dotting a little circle like the crest she wears over each ‘i’. The pages probably smell like her too. Jasmine and antiseptic and vanilla and something distinctively her.
He still can’t comprehend why she cares so much about him. Each time another hawk or frog appears holding the next of her gods-dammed letters he feels frustration tinged with confusion bubble up at the back of his throat, urging him to speak and shout, grip her by the shoulders in an unrelenting vice and ask: “What reason do you have to care?”
Sakura’s not there though. It’s just Sasuke and a faint amphibian smell under the moon’s peeping eyes. There’s no response, no answer or shy, delicate stammer. It’s only his dismissive, unyielding voice, echoing in the confines of his mind, therefore it's the only answer he’ll accept, the only one that can be right and the only one he’ll ever know.
The moon continues its descent through the sky, replacing the purple-pink haze of the evening with shades of dark azure while the rusting of urban life below quiets as blinds shield windows shut and the streets empty.
From the balcony, Sasuke ventures back into his hotel-room, envelope in hand, and sits on the thin cotton sheets of the bed, not thinking or relaxing. His fingers fondle with the red wax on Naruto’s letter, sealed with special insignia that would imply it was an important degree from the Hokage with S-rank urgency. However, Sasuke knows it's not, because if it were, somehow, some way Naruto would appear right in front of him, smug, toothy smile and dressed in way too much orange.
Despite the ornate packaging, Naruto’s letter is very much reminiscent of the unchanging nature of his intelligence. Extremely low.
The first thing Sasuke notices is that the pages smell faintly of coffee. Then ramen. (At this he almost does a double take, barely restraining himself from lightly sniffing the air again to find that distinctive salty tang.) He huffs, amusement concealed in each exhale. Hokage life must be really getting to him.
Admittedly, his handwriting has improved greatly since their genin days, but that doesn’t mean much when the bar has raised from hell to 6 feet under. It’s legible enough, even with the little doodles decorating the margins.
To U. Sasuke.
Sasuke-teme! It’s been way too long since you’ve sent me anything—not like you ever really do! FYI sending monoslybe, monoslyabic one word answers (y’know the word, that fancy one Sakura-chan says) isn’t good enough dattebayo! I can’t see you, I can’t spar with you or bring you along to Ichiraku so this is the only chance I get to talk to you, so don’t be a bastard.
Everything in the village has been going so well. I’m really happy, ya’know. Everyday—even when Kaka-sensei gives me loads of paperwork and trust me it's CRAZY—I just feel all warm and fuzzy looking at everything we’ve achieved. And it's not just me and training to be Hokage, everybody’s doing so much to help each other and the village:
Shika comes and helps down at Hokage office. I think he’s gonna replace Shizune as the Kaka-sensei’s assistant since Granny’s stepped down. Anyways, it's great to have a buddy with me when the paperwork gets crazy—even if he is a lazy bastard that sleeps on the job. I’ve been speaking to Hinata-chan more now too. She’s getting even weirder than normal, but it's kinda cute, y’know. She almost, almost, ate more ramen than me last week, so I’ve gotta challenge her again next week. Sakura-chan, Kaka-sensei and EVEN Sai, said that it was a date, but it totally wasn’t! The one who’s actually dating is Kiba! I know it's crazy, I still refuse to believe he’s the first of us to get a girlfriend, but believe it me and Sakura-chan will be next!! (Though, she keeps telling me I’ll find someone even better and nicer and prettier than her which is just NOT true—only Haku was prettier than her but you CANNOT tell her that!!!). Dog breath’s dating some girl with nin-neko!! NIN-NEKO!
Speaking of Sakura-chan, she and Ino have been making this new hospital, it's like a clinic for healing people’s minds, but for children especially. She’s doing so much and working like crazy. The other day she looked like no-brows Gaara, dattebayo! Total dark circles. I took her out for ramen the other day and she was so tired she didn’t even realise I added extra hot sauce to hers. And Sakura-chan HATES spicy food!! It’s nice to see her so passionate about something, but I get worried about her when she gets like that. Not that I’m any better though—hehe!
Though if you actually CARED to read Sakura-chan’s letters you’d already know all about this and all the details—but you don’t! Seriously, if you don’t reply to her I’m gonna take that other arm of yours and whack you round the head!! Dattebayo! Sakura-chan cares about you like crazy. It's sad y’know, seeing her always looking back at the gates when we go drinking and having fun with the others. She’s stuck on you like glue from that one mission, but feels guilty for wanting you here.
I get it teme, maybe I don’t, you’re trying to make up for the shitty mistakes you made and you made a lot—yeah I can’t really lie there—but what the hell's the point of trying to atone for your sins while you're making Sakura-chan suffer?
You probably think you're doing her a favour by leaving her alone, letting her move on and find someone better—and Sakura deserves the best and even I know it's not me—but the one Sakura wants is you. For once put your pride aside and admit you’re wrong for ignoring her and write her a goddamn letter! Dattebayo!
Try not to get yourself too injured or stressed, OKAY! Good luck Sasuke-teme!!
From U. Naruto (aka the greatest Hokage ever)
At first, Sasuke scoffs at Naruto’s misspellings, slightly surprised the blonde even managed to remember the word monosyllabic and continues to read.
Almost immediately afterward he resists the urge to roll his eyes at his obliviousness towards the Hygua heiress. Hell, Sasuke isn’t even in the village to see Naruto acting denser than a brick wall towards a girl who obviously wants him and he already feels the urge to punch him. He wonders how much worse it is for Sakura and the others.
Sasuke pays no mind to Kiba’s latest achievement. Unfortunately Neko-baa had already informed him of the Inazuka's relationship with her granddaughter. He promptly ignores the line before that.
Then, Sasuke reaches the designated Sakura paragraph on the letter. Without fail, each of Naruto’s letters has a paragraph (on occasion multiple) dedicated to Sakura—whether it be her work, drunken shenanigans or how she’s been feeling recently. Today, it’s her work.
At mention of her name, his hands clench the pages imperceptibly tighter; it almost feels like his sharingan is on, eyes blazing at the thought of her and tomoe whirling in rapid haze to carve each of her actions under his eyelids until he can see her even when asleep. A mental health clinic for young children is an undeniably Sakura thing to do. He almost scoffs at the predictability, but it doesn’t have the heart in it.
By the part Naruto’s pleading, more demanding, even threatening him to reply to Sakura’s stupid, jasmine smelling, fancy cursive letters Sasuke folds the note closed and places it on the bedside table, huffing out in annoyance.
He doesn’t need nor care for Sakura’s adoration. As he changes into his night clothes and readies himself for bed, he makes a point to ignore the letter sitting by his side.
Despite tiredly clambering into bed beneath the sheets, Sasuke can’t sleep. He’d already had a long day and a night of sleeplessness atop would only serve to extend his long stay in the Land of Iron. The village he currently resides in was one he recalls frequenting during his days in Hebi so to atone for any misdeeds he did there, Sasuke spent his day plowing fields destroyed in the aftermath of the war and helping an old miner.
Shinobi life is undoubtedly tiring, but there’s a special kind of ache in doing these domestic tasks he would’ve deemed mundane. A sort of masochistic pleasure in every plant he tends to, each villager he aids. It leaves him tired all the way down to his bones and Sasuke thinks the fatigue is more to do with the emotional labour in the actions rather than the physical aspect.
But he still can’t sleep.
Like a moon in eternal orbit, two lines on Naruto’s letter ricochet around Sasuke’s head. They leave for a moment only to cycle back to the forefront of his mind when he thinks he’s forgotten.
Sasuke’s brow furrows as it replays once more:
‘For once put your pride aside and admit you’re wrong for ignoring her’
What the hell does dead-last know anyway?
Pride is the only thing that sustained him. The only tie he has to a clan whose faces are forevermore stained sanguine, precious memories tinted an eternal red. Pride may well be the only thing Sasuke and his father have ever shared. And it's the one thing Itachi can’t murder, Danzo can’t steal and Konoha can’t persecute.
He won’t conform—he can’t.
The infallible truth that they just can’t seem to grasp is that Sasuke doesn’t deserve love. Maybe even before all his sins, if you’d ask his father. And there’s no love stronger than hers—a feeling he can’t fathom even a fraction of. Therefore:
He’ll keep Sakura not even at an arm’s length, rather an entire country away; it will be a lifetime before he experiences the warmth of spring once more.
Even so, those words linger.
‘What the hell's the point of trying to atone for your sins while you're making Sakura-chan suffer?’
Tch.
Naruto knows nothing.
Maybe it’ll hurt for now, but it will be better eventually when she finds another man, someone good enough to be by her side and keep her happy until she grows old and even more beautiful and she’ll laugh thinking about how stupid she was to long for a man who could never love her. (Sasuke pays no mind to the nausea that bubbles up in his stomach.)
She’ll be better. And he’ll be here, somewhere.
Frustrated at his talkative mind, Sasuke rolls onto his other side, facing the window. The walls are bathed in a dark black, a painted lullababy, consuming the room. In a particularly large gap peaking through the slits between the blind, Sasuke’s gaze is drawn to the moon—wide and full—illuminating his bedside table. It’s there the letter sits, bathed in white moonlight like a gift against the midnight backdrop. A blessing from Tsukuyomi himself.
Sasuke waits for dreamless sleep to take him.
Sasuke leaves the little village a week later, run ragged by the work he’s done with a small warmth flickering in his belly. The work isn’t comparable to the sheer extent of sin, but it’s something and one of the villagers smiled at him and the weight of the world feels a little lighter.
Just as he touches the gates to leave, a ginger hawk discovers a fancy new perch. It’s Sasuke’s arm.
This is a hawk he knows all too well to be Sakura’s favoured messenger.
This time, the letter is daffodil yellow, clinging to the scent of disinfectant. He guesses she probably wrote it at work with her short pink hair pinned up in a spiky ponytail, all hints of childish youth and excitement hidden behind her clinical assessment, bitten lips as she identifies ailments and cures before he can even blink. Sasuke doesn’t shake his head, but he feels the urge all the while. Even when gone, Sakura is still so annoying.
He pockets the paper instead of tucking it in his bag and moves to scratch under the beak of the bird tilting its head curiously at the raven-haired man.
They wait there an awkward minute long as the bird stares directly into Sasuke’s eyes, waiting for another letter to be placed into its mouth before it flies back to its master.
Unfortunately for the bird and its owner, the Uchiha has no such thing to provide so he gently shoos the bird off his arm and feels his eye twitch as the bird pokes his shoulder before flying off back into the sky.
Honestly, Sasuke wouldn’t be surprised if the thing came back to shit on him.
He continues his journey.
The next small dwelling along in the Land of Iron is boisterous to such an inane degree Naruto would be mouselike in comparison.
It's the type of gambling den the Fifth Hokage would drop a few thousand ryo in a single night at. Thankfully, Sasuke thinks her apprentice hasn’t picked up that particular habit from her. The only thing—other than mastery of all things medical-ninjutsu and sheer destruction—the Slug Sannin’s successor seems to have inherited was her lightweight tendencies. Although through the use of a little chakra and skillful precision, sobriety can be returned within moments.
From Naruto’s latest letter Sasuke remembers the pink-haired girl to be an exuberant alcohol enthusiast. And that’s not even counting when Yamanaka is involved. While not one to ever indulge—unless the dobe intervenes—Sasuke Uchiha is quite obviously, if you ask him, not a drinker of any sort, however he can’t help but wonder what his third teammate might prefer.
He knows she likes sweet things, so overly saccharine it’d put a dentist into a coma, but he wonders if her tastes have changed at all. Sasuke doubts that though. She’s always been foolishly stubborn about darting to her death in every scenario, always refusing to admit she’s wrong for charging head first into danger (doesn’t she know how much it hurts him as well to see her hurt?) so he reckons she still enjoys such unhealthy foods.
Her newest letter, this time deep navy blue, sits on the table next to his too sweet black tea.
He finishes the whole cup before leaving.
Summer reaches a blistering heat alongside the solstice.
An unforeseen heatwave had struck the latest village Sasuke travelled to. During his stay he’s paved new irrigation pathways so the crops don’t die of drought and the wells stay full.
The Land of Iron is famous for its eternal winters and snow covered mountains, so the sudden warmth has everyone outside their homes for a sudden festival. Lanterns line the streets, waving along in the summer breeze as families dart between market stalls, joyous, smiling and unaware of the black haired Uchiha sitting on the rooftops watching over them.
Sasuke’s gaze is drawn to one family in particular. He doesn’t know why.
When a little boy, jaded from the loss of his entire world, oftentimes he’d watch other families, ones with similar features to his—black hair, dark eyes—to quench the thirst in soul for his mother’s warm smiles before her beautiful visage was painted red. At one point, he’s sure Kakashi caught him doing so, but the man said nothing about the visible longing in his eyes and Sasuke pretended it didn’t happen. He thought he’d shaken off the envy-born habit, but his eyes find themselves arduously fixed on this family in particular.
They wait at a carnival stall with a high striker. The young boy there hits the lever over and over again, a scarlet blush on his face and he peers over to a young girl standing at the stall adjacent. Her face remains impassive.
Sasuke recognises that annoying love-sick look better than anyone else in the whole world: the boy has a crush.
His parents standing side by side share knowing looks as they push their child towards the girl.
Sakura was much bolder than that boy at that age. A mission wouldn’t go by without her subtle flirts and blatant advancements—much to Naruto’s chagrin. Sasuke can’t say he misses it: she’d never focus on her tasks and always get herself into a stupid argument with the dobe. Worst of all, her stupid little compliments would cause a blush to rise to his cheeks and butterflies to flap in his stomach, throwing off his stoic attitude.
A confused look paints Sasuke’s features: the summer doesn’t feel warm enough to be celebrating over.
Alone, on the rooftop, Sasuke places Sakura’s beige letter in his lap.
For the first time, a jasmine-scented letter doesn’t arrive.
Summer has now come to a close, dragging in thunderstorms and lightning alongside. The bitter irony drags a humourless laugh from his throat.
Sasuke stands on Samurai Bridge once again.
Her letter is two weeks late and Sasuke feels a pain in his chest unlike anything he has felt before. It’s not the consuming fury of whirling wind ripping through muscles and bone, nor the mental anguish of watching his parents be cut down like puppets without strings in front of him.
It started off small, an ache that he could sleep off. Then it continued festering. Slowly and subtly, the pressure continued to build, enough to keep him awake at night.
Being a shinobi, Sasuke knows, is to endure.
But, this—whatever illness, plague, disease—this is, is eating away at him. It hurts.
Sasuke’s mind darts back to the past, wracking through the library of his mind to find any cure that can fix these symptoms of heartache: surprisingly, Naruto’s words come back.
‘For once put your pride aside and admit you’re wrong for ignoring her’
Pride, again. He almost wants to huff. In an unforeseen event, he doesn’t feel that burn of vanity in his veins. He just feels bitter and tired and cold.
Sasuke isn’t arrogant enough to think his atonement will ever truly be completed, but now, knowing he’s carried this sin for an entire summer, that far-out gleam of salvation seems even further away.
Pride, Sasuke knows, is the worst of all sins and he’s fallen victim.
The letters sitting at the bottom of his travel back feel infinitely heavier and the absence of that luxury he’s forsaken feels like living with a chidori-sized hole in his chest.
For the first time, the Uchiha rummages all the way to the bottom of his kit bag and holds all of Sakura’s letters: pink, purple, red, daffodil yellow, deep navy blue, beige, jasmine, antiseptic, vanilla and something distinctively her. Fractionally, his hand trembles.
Sasuke opens the first one.
Dear Sasuke-kun
I know you’ve only just left, but I can’t help to ask whether you’ve been eating okay, drinking enough water or if your arm is bugging you. I know I’m being a nag and you know how to take care of yourself—you’ve always been the most resourceful—but it makes my heart feel a bit lighter to know.
Have you gone anywhere interesting yet? It’s only been two weeks since you left so I reckon you're still in Fire Country. Just south of Tanzaku Quarters, there’s a little farming village that has its harvest season in late spring and the produce is the best I’ve had yet! While the year’s only just started, maybe you’ll travel down there and if you do, try to get the tomatoes from there; trust me you’ll love them!
Only if you still like tomatoes though, no pressure! I remember back when we were genin you’d often eat them, so I hope you still like them. Tastes change with age, although typically the taste buds start to degrade and die off in our forties to fifties since the older we get the slower the cellular turnover in our cells' regeneration, so you’ll probably still be fine for now though but with certain medical conditions like pregnancy and overuse of katon. Sorry! I went and rambled even on paper… Some things never change even with age, Shannaro!! Heh, I think I’ve been spending a bit too long in the hospital.
I’ll keep this brief since you only left recently: please keep safe, alright. Three meals every day and two litres of water! There’s so much more I want to say to Sasuke-kun but I’ve taken up enough of your time already.
With love
Yours sincerely, H. Sakura
Then the next.
Dear Sasuke-kun
How have you been? I hope you’re doing well! It’s been a little while since I’ve heard from you— not that you have to reply. I know how dangerous it is out there especially with what people think about you—but none of that is true shannaro!! I Hope this journey will make you realise that and see yourself the way me, Naruto and Kaka-sensei see you. The Sasuke-kun I know has a good heart through and through, Shannaro!!!
I wanted to write this yesterday but I was so busy! There’s something I’ve been planning ever since the war ended, but I’ve only just had time to start preparing for it with everything that’s been going on. I love being a medic-nin and being able to protect those I care about, but it's really tiring. And Tsunade-shisho stepped down and made me the head med-nin! It’s kinda embarrassing but I cried that day. Shisho even said I had surpassed her but I know she was just trying to flatter me. Gosh, she really sounded like Jiraiya-sama then trying to butter me up. Hopefully, my little project will get up and running soon and when it does I’ll tell you all the insider details—but only if you want. I don’t wanna bother you with stuff you might not care about…
February is going to end soon and I can only hope the weather gets a little bit warmer. Konoha’s always warm, but right now it feels like it's freezing. At least three of our classmates have stopped by for antibiotics. I hope Sasuke-kun is feeling healthy. I’m not too sure where you are right now, but I hope it's warm! Although you’ve always run a little warm, maybe it’s because your chakra nature is fire?
Wherever you are, please stay warm and eat enough especially. Last time you had a doctor's appointment you were a little underweight so feel free to splurge on dessert—not that you like sweets anyways!
I wish you all the best on your journey. Truly, I want from the bottom of my heart for you to find all you’re searching for!
With love
Yours sincerely, H. Sakura
The rest play out in much the same way: Sakura fussing over his health, what he’s eating, how much he’s been drinking then moving onto her life in Konoha, the latest exploits and rumors and apologising for every little thing she writes before ending the letter with two words that linger in his mind.
‘With love’
Sasuke grips the paper so hard his nails make crescent moon indents in the page. He soothes the crease the moment it occurs, wanting to keep the letters in pristine condition.
A knowing smirk plays at his lips with Sakura’s predictability: just as he guessed, her curly cursive swoops on each line through a ‘t’ and she dots a little circle like the crest she wears over each ‘i’. Sasuke didn’t anticipate the slightly unrefined nature of her handwriting. Back in their genin days she’d always spend an age writing up mission reports and show them exclusively to him. She always said it was so ‘the best member of their team could verify the quality’ but he reckons it was to show off her neatest handwriting to him. At the time, he thought she was like an annoying peacock, but the memory painted with irritation now features endearing hues.
Allegedly, doctors always have horrible handwriting. It's a rumor he’s heard fleeting between locations but he’d never thought it true. It still isn’t. Sakura’s handwriting isn’t ugly per say: it's slightly rushed with letters dragging into one another, but it’s so distinctly her it causes something to flutter in his stomach. Sasuke likes it.
The pages do smell like her too. Jasmine and antiseptic and vanilla and the scent of her skin. Her natural smell was especially evident on one letter where there was a faint patch of drool she apologised profusely for not re-writing.
The ache in his chest is gone. His mouth is dry and his eyes can't seem to stay focused on one spot.
The latter of her letters are twinged in a melancholy he shares. She’s hurting and once again it’s because of him. She writes as if she's grieving, talking to a ghost that's never coming back.
Each word chips away at his pride, little by little until the only thing left is those words:
‘What the hell's the point of trying to atone for your sins while you're making Sakura-chan suffer?’
‘With love’
Sasuke drags a long hard breath out his mouth and turns to the nearest village.
The first thing he does when there is find a shop selling paper. Once it's bought he strolls into a tea house and sits in the most isolated corner nestling a warm cup of green tea.
Sasuke holds the pen like an executioner's blade because that’s what it really is. Words—when used properly—can be the deadliest weapon a shinobi can wield. The events with Tobi and Itachi speak for themselves. Sakura isn’t unfamiliar with his fists. He knows well she can’t stand thunderstorms anymore, she bites her lips at the sound of chirping birds and has woken too many nights, hand to her chest searching for a hole that matches perfectly with his hand like a sickening marital union. Even so, he knows his words always hurt her inexplicably more. It’s why he has to tread so carefully this time. Each word has to soothe the ache in her soul that surely mirrors his.
‘What the hell's the point of trying to atone for your sins while you're making Sakura-chan suffer?’
Sasuke writes:
To H. Sakura
The Land of Iron is cold and unyielding to those foreign. Oftentimes I find myself missing the warmth of the Fire Country amidst the cold. However, I was fortunate enough to visit during the summer where the temperatures reside at a little over 15 degrees. By the standards here—a heatwave. It’s nothing like Konoha, but it’ll make due. I intend to leave for the Land of Rivers next after I post this letter. It’s slightly warmer and is renowned for its sights and fishing. It's also calmer there. The warmer weather has incentivised festivals to occur all throughout the summer and I hope for a quieter stay.
I find myself agreeing with the Fifth Hokage in the regard that you are deserving of being head of the hospital. You’ve grown strong—there’s no doubt. A mental health clinic for young children is a noble endeavour and I wish you the best in its development. Your new standing as head will give you a benefit in its implementation. My feelings about Konoha will never be what they once were, but everything you’ve done alongside the dobe and Kakashi will result in a village Naruto will be proud to rule.
My health has been fine so far and I’ll take your recommendations into account. There’s no need for you to fuss over me. Really, you should focus on yourself—it wouldn’t be ideal for a medical professional to be unable to treat herself.
This letter is long overdue and I apologise for it. I’ll do my best to make it up to you and come back as a man un-plagued by sin.
Once again, I’m sorry for everything.
Sincerely, U. Sasuke
Sasuke summons his hawk, scratching it under the beak before placing the letter in its mouth quickly enough before he regrets his overly emotional actions.
As he watches it fly through the sky until it's a brown speck in the horizon, Sasuke wonders how it will feel for Sakura to be on the receiving end for once.
Mabye, hopefully, potentially, he won't be the reason she hurts anymore.