Strangers

No matter how many times Sakura told herself not to expect much from Sasuke's return to Konoha, she couldn’t help it.

“Sakura-chan, Sasuke, let's go to Ichiraku’s! Like old times,” Naruto spontaneously shouted.

Even if she was tired of how often Naruto suggested Ichiraku's for dinner, the notion of eating there again was too sentimental to dismiss. She thought of their small, exhausted bodies perched on the rouge stools after training: navy blue, cherry red, and bright orange.

“I can clock in for my lunch break right about now,” she offered with a small smile, and Naruto perked up.

Kakashi interrupted, “Ah, sorry to disappoint, but Sasuke needs to sign his forms and documentation as soon as possible.” Naruto visibly deflated at the news.

Sasuke looked at her before she could offer an alternative.

“We can go tomorrow,” he suggested. Sakura felt an urge to brush aside the hair covering his face, to trace his features, comparing them to the hardness she was so accustomed to.

“I can go after my studies, right around noon?” Naruto asked, scratching his head.

She suppressed the urge to squirm. “Sure…”

Naruto’s eyes flickered between them. “Okay, well, that's settled! Sasuke, let's walk Sakura to the hospital,” Naruto suggested, wrapping an arm around Sasuke's shoulder. “It’s only a five-minute walk!”

Sasuke scowled, pushing Naruto's arm away before his lone eye met Sakura's. “If it's alright with you,” he said quietly, catching her off guard. She felt torn between studying him intensely and fleeing.

She waved off their offer with a timid smile. “You guys don’t need to. The hospital isn't far, and you need to sign all those–”

“Mah, I can wait a few minutes.” Kakashi's eyes twinkled, and Sakura suspected he saw through her excuse. Turning to Sasuke, he said, “I’ll see you in my office, Sasuke,” before disappearing in a gust of wind.

“Lead the way, Sakura-chan!” Naruto grinned, walking alongside her. Sakura led the way to the hospital, with Sasuke and Naruto flanking her.

Sakura decided to take a detour, avoiding the busy roads of Konoha. The last thing anyone needed was for Sasuke’s return to be greeted by people cowering in fear or glaring with hate.

"So,” she began, silently hoping they wouldn't notice her odd route choice, “what are you studying now, Naruto?”

If they did notice, neither of them showed it. Naruto's face shone with excitement at her question. “Well, it’s kind of all over the place. Right now, it's mostly about history.”

“Is it somewhat intriguing, at least?” Sakura asked, taking a furtive glance at Sasuke's profile, black strands of hair shrouding a small upward twitch of his mouth.

“Yeah! I thought I would hate it, but it’s surprisingly interesting. Kakashi-sensei said it's my best subject.” Naruto affirmed.

Suddenly, Sasuke spoke, his voice laced with amusement. “If being Hokage doesn’t work out, you can always be a historian.”

Sakura giggled at the thought of Naruto as an academic, and Sasuke’s imperceptible perk of his lips grew to a small smirk.

“At least I have a backup plan! What’s yours, huh?” Naruto retorted playfully, his face scrunched up in indignation.

Sasuke’s eyebrow twitched, a smirk still on his lips, “I don’t need one.”

Naruto yelled, “I was so glad to have you back, and now—” his face scrunched up like a tiny ball “—you know what? You can go back!”

Sakura lightly punched his shoulder— as lightly as she could. “Naruto, now you’re pushing it.” There was a warning in her tone, to which Naruto, as expected, exaggeratedly smoothed down his shoulder with a dramatic huff.

“Sakura-chan,” he drawled, “that’s my bad side! You know that!”

“Gods, I didn’t even hit you that hard.” She had put a sliver of chakra into it, but she figured it was fair, considering how loud Naruto’s voice was in her ear.

It had gotten quiet suddenly, and the only thing Sakura could focus on was the mild intermittent sounds of birds chirping; she forgot what they were called. 

It felt completely familiar.

Even in the quiet moments, they strolled down the roads that had changed so much since they were 13—bright new headbands perched on their heads, beads of sweat glistening on their foreheads.

As if Sasuke isn’t missing an arm, with a Rinnegan on his left, and Naruto doesn’t have a prosthetic, in the process of becoming the next Hokage.

Sasuke spoke, his voice oddly reserved now.

“… A farmer.”

Naruto stopped mid-motion. “Huh?”

Sasuke’s expression was unreadable. His face mulled over something distant.

“I would want to be a farmer.”

Naruto’s face paused, and Sakura felt her stomach churn.

Sasuke’s expression was wrapped in something vulnerable—yet different. Laced with something sweet and bitter, too personal.

Like a whisper of himself, his thoughts beckoning to be released.

And Sakura, as well as what she could tell from Naruto’s face smoothing into something more mature, didn’t mind his reluctance to share.

"You know what,"—his face engrossed in deep thought, then he sharply nodded. "I see that."

Sakura tried to picture it—Sasuke in plain black clothes, a tiny dot against vast rice and wheat fields, perhaps tending to a small garden of finely tuned, plump heirloom tomatoes beside a humble wooden cabin. The image fit.

No one deserved a quiet life more than Sasuke.

Bush Warblers, Sakura half-heartedly remembered, filled the additional moments of silence. Sakura spoke up in a quiet voice. “You know, you guys can always do just that.”

“No way! I’ll never retire from being Hokage!” Naruto declared, shaken out of his stupor.

Before Sakura could respond with much-needed realism—because, for all his wisdom and strength, the Sandaime should have retired—Sasuke turned to her, his single dark eye piercing.

“What about you?” he asked.

She hesitated, not expecting him to look, let alone question her. “Um… I don’t know. I think I’ll always be in medicine.” She shrugged. “I just know I love helping people—in whatever means possible.”

She didn’t have the luxury of just dropping everything she’d built here for a life of simplicity. She thought she’d accepted that a long time ago.

And yet, what was she beyond a medic-nin?

The familiar entrance finally came into view, and relief flooded in. “Well, we’re here!” she announced, turning to them.

Her gaze instinctively flicked to Sasuke’s right side, a habit from two years ago, being his designated medic.

She suddenly realized—he needed a physical.

“Oh!” She started, “Sasuke-kun, please remind me tomorrow during lunch to schedule your physical as soon as possible!”

He gave a curt nod in response.

She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and offered a smile. “Thanks for walking with me, guys. I’ll see you later.”

Naruto waved goodbye enthusiastically, and Sasuke nodded again, his eyes briefly meeting hers before looking away.

Sakura watched Naruto and Sasuke walk away, her smile faltering slightly. She took a deep breath as she pushed open the doors to the hospital, the familiar scent of antiseptic filling her nostrils.

Sakura decided to head towards the North Wing of the hospital, having finished most of her diagnostic imaging analysis that morning.

At the reception desk, she found the receptionist staring at her with an odd expression.

“Hey, Satori-san. Hopefully, I didn’t miss too much.” She reached into her thigh pouch for her lanyard.

Satori shook herself out of her stupor, reached for the reader, and pushed it briskly. “Ah, I’m sorry.” She grew quiet, her eyes fixed on the reader. “And uh, no, you haven’t…”

Sakura paused. “Satori-san,” she said quietly, “is something bothering you?”

"It’s just…” Her voice dwindled, but then Satori's eyes finally met Sakura's, her eyebrows furrowed, her tone resolute. “I wasn’t aware that the Uchiha had returned.”

Sakura stilled for a moment and then inserted her ID into the reader, her eyes drawn to the clock next to Satori. “Yeah, it's been a long time.”

She heard Satori sniff in response, and Sakura’s eyes snapped to her face.

Satori's face was held high, sneering in contempt, but her eyes never strayed from the reader. “Not long enough,” she mumbled, not meant for Sakura to hear, but as an experienced ninja with a trained ear, she caught it.

Sakura was prepared for this part of Sasuke’s arrival. But to have it so early, mere moments after seeing his face after years, was wholly unexpected.

The telltale beep of the ID card reader jerked her back to reality, and she stalked away from the receptionist, bidding her a very quiet goodbye. Sakura felt her eyes tinge.

Satori was not a judgmental or hateful person; she was a no-nonsense and sharp woman, but she never went out of her way to prod or anger people. Sakura liked that about her, so hearing her respond spitefully to the man she loves, a man she knows nothing about, was difficult for Sakura to fully process.

How many people can say their kin were slaughtered by their village, left alone to face the burden for their people at the hands of their brother who psychologically tortured them to commit his murder while being a victim himself? No one can claim that but Sasuke Uchiha. And yet, he can’t claim it.

So Sakura is trapped in the public’s perception, fawning over a war criminal who was pardoned in a rushed trial because his former sensei was the Rokudaime.

She took a steadying breath and forged on through the hospital halls, heading toward the Children's Clinic Wing. 

The children in this section of the hospital didn’t know her reputation well. They only knew the best of Sakura. She believed her work as a medical ninja made a difference. Even after forty-seven hours straight on soldier pills and energy drinks, she still checked up on patients to see a child smile or gaze in awe at her luminescent chartreuse hands.

Pristine flat marbles formed the area, white on the floors and light gray on the walls. Her low block heels clicked against the floor. 

The ninja world has proven to be cruel to all, regardless of clan, class, gender, or age. When Sakura was a genin, she didn’t see the truth of the cruelty until the Forest of Death, her slick palm impossibly sore from Sasuke’s crushing hold and her vocal cords strained from the weight of her screams.

The truth became more stark when he left.

No amount of victories against alien gods or goddesses can compare to this. The relief of saving a ten-year-old orphan's will to live, someone who could have easily been in the throes of hatred and vengeance.

Someone who could have easily been Sasuke.

Or connecting with a patient like Yuki, who was at the first of her routine checkups, and if she was being candid, one of her dearest.

Sakura lightly rapped on the door twice and heard an intimately familiar voice muffled. “Come in!”

Yuki's room is decorated extensively. Posters of her favorite pop stars scatter across the white brick walls of the room, a small lavender digital music player on her left bedside table, a bookcase under the mounted television with a variety of books—some of Sakura’s own—and a cork board pinned up with to-do lists and polaroid pictures on her desk.

“Hey, Yuki. Did you take the antibiotics as instructed? Two in the morning, two at night?” Sakura tried to sound stern, but Yuki's knowing smile softened her demeanor.

“Yes, I took them, along with reciting those daily affirmations you have pinned up on your desk.” Yuki's mischievous grin suddenly made Sakura wish to take back anything good she’d ever said about the Children's Clinic.

“What? Who let you in, anyway?” Sakura spluttered, her cheeks flushing.

“Ah, good-hearted Shizune-san always helps. I was trying to find you, but you weren't there,” Yuki explained, her gaze drifting.

Sakura looked up from her clipboard, concerned. Yuki rarely sought her out so directly.

“Did you need something, Yuki?” Sakura's voice was filled with concern.

Yuki shook her head. “No, I found what I needed anyway,” she said quietly, her expression somber before brightening. “What is it that you had pinned up again? ‘I don't chase, I attract, what belongs to me will simply find me,’ right?”

Sakura’s face was positively red now. “You’ve somehow found even more things to embarrass me with. Are you not tired?”

“Nope.” Yuki simply smiled. “Ino-chan told me that you farted in a meeting—”

Sakura squirmed at that, feeling the tips of her ears warm. “Alright, enough!” She sat beside Yuki on the bed, the thin baby baby-blue sheets rumpled beneath them. “Gods! I’ll have a talk with Ino… sharing highly classified information like that.” She shook her head in mock indignation, and Yuki just giggled in response.

In truth, Sakura would share all of her embarrassing stories and more if it made Yuki laugh.

“So, are you excited about getting an apartment soon?” Sakura questioned, reaching for her stethoscope, and Yuki wordlessly fell into the breathing motions. Sakura happily noted that her breaths were even and stable. “You’ve been doing so well recently; I’m going to formally give the green light sometime this week, and then we can proceed with all the documentation.”

Yuki's mood shifted, her smile turning somewhat ambivalent. “I’m honestly really nervous. Independence is a foreign concept to me,” she admitted, then her demeanor brightened. “But it’s all so exciting! I’ll be able to truly decorate my room and read all the books I want, whenever I want. It sounds too good to be true!”

“I’m very happy for you, but I want to make sure you can handle being alone. If your condition worsens even the slightest…” Sakura trailed off, unsure of how to fully approach this. She hasn’t let go of many of her child patients; Yuki is one of the very few who will live alone.

The collective staff in the children’s clinic had been steadily teaching Yuki the manners needed to become a young apartment owner, as Yuki had been an orphan since the war. While it’s not uncommon for a civilian pre-teen to become emancipated and live alone, it’s difficult without inheritance or clan status.

Yuki brushed her off. “Pfft, don’t worry, Sakura-chan. I know the rules.”

She raised her index finger and droned out the daily procedure Sakura had procured for Yuki's disease. “First, wash consistently after every single physical point of contact. Second, take all my antibiotics and use my nebulizer. Third, practice my breathing exercises daily.” She seemed a little winded and finished off rather quickly. “And last but not least, make sure to stay six feet away from anyone with my illness.”

“I’m very proud of you for memorizing all of that, but,” Sakura took a deep inhale, “if something, anything, is bothering you, make sure you come by my house. I'll give you my address when you get your apartment.”

Yuki raised a brow at that. “Is that even efficient? How many people have you given free rein to just come over and get a limb fixed or something? Whatever it is that you ninjas do?”

She sighed exaggeratedly. “You wouldn’t want to know, but anyway,” Sakura continued, “I’ll be sure to help you with whatever you need once you start to move out.” 

Yuki’s face shifted into a genuine smile, and she reached towards Sakura for an embrace. Sakura felt herself soften.

“Sakura-chan, thank you,” Yuki murmured into her shoulder. After a beat, she pulled away to press a chaste kiss on the top of her head and bid goodbye.

Sakura spent the rest of her shift performing routine checkups on other patients in the clinic, then went towards the main lobby on the ground floor to greet some of her co-workers she’d missed.

Usually, she would eat her lunch in her office, with Ino if she was working that day, and on the days Ino wasn't working, she would opt to eat in the cafeteria or the backspace of the staff locker rooms. She was always willing to meet and greet new people who decided to dedicate their lives to medicine.

But today was not the usual.

The digital clock on her desk blared at 9:45 PM as the cicadas buzzed intermittently under the pale moon’s glow glaring through her wide and tall glass windows. The heat steadily simmering in the afternoons whispered like declarations of a blazing summer.

Sakura stared at her corkboard, finding the affirmation cards Ino had gifted her from a nearby market, Yuki’s voice memorializing in the forefront of her consciousness.

("I don’t chase; I attract—")

It was ironic that she had pinned that up; she had done more than chase—she had nearly died.

What belongs to me will simply find me.