"You're cheating."

"I am not."

Sakura scowls at the shogi board and then at her husband. "Yes, you are. You're winning."

"That's not unusual."

"It is since I stopped letting you win."

"Taking advantage of your distraction isn't cheating; it's strategy," Sasuke replies sagely, moving a tile that puts her king in check.

She scrambles to find a way to avoid it. "It's totally taking advantage when my pregnancy hormones – which are your fault by the way – have turned my brain to mush."

"That's a weak argument, given that you're equally responsible. And perhaps your hormones wouldn't be troubling your brain so much if you were getting proper sleep."

There's no avoiding it this time when he moves in on her king, but she ignores it in favour of parsing his words. Apparently, it's not just in shogi where her husband has been laying a trap.

She crosses her arms at him. "If you want to know, just ask."

"Would you honestly answer?"

"When have I ever not answered you honestly?"

"Don't play word games, Sakura. This is something that concerns us both. I shouldn't have to ask."

She sighs and puts her right hand over her piece, ceding defeat. "I know," she tells him, getting up to stretch. The forest clearing where they've settled in for the night is lit by their campfire which casts shadows against the surrounding trees. "But it upsets you – you get worried for no reason whenever I bring it up, so..."

"Whatever I feel doesn't justify holding back information," Sasuke tells her, putting away the board. "Besides, right now, you're the one who has more knowledge of my past life than I do."

Their time together has taught Sakura a few new things about Sasuke, and right now, she knows he's a lot more curious than he's letting on.

"All right," she says. "Make me okonomiyaki and I'll tell you."

Sasuke shakes his head, but wisely refrains from reminding her that they just finished dinner.

As she watches him work – and occasionally helps pull together required ingredients – she relates her latest dream to him in as much detail as she can remember. He makes noises of interest or incredulity as she describes the events leading up to the wedding, the attempted poisoning, and her breaking through to save Indra. When she comes to the part where his past life killed Shachi's relatives, she hesitates, but forces herself to finish the tale.

"And then I woke up," she finishes. "That's the last thing I remember. She took his hand, and that was it."

"Hm."

She waits a moment, watching the way his facial muscles move as he considers all he's heard. Then she asks, "Do you think she would've saved him if I hadn't been there?"

"I don't know. It would depend."

"On?"

"Whether this really is just a dream of a memory...or if you're somehow sharing the mind of this person across time."

"But that's impossible."

"Visitors from the moon and physical manifestations of a goddess' will are impossible, too. And yet..."

"I'll give you that one," she allows. "What about Indra, though?"

"I think he was a master manipulator," Sasuke says, removing the frying pan from the fire and shifting the omelette onto Sakura's waiting plate.

She is puzzled by his words. "How do you figure?"

"You said she felt as if he'd given her a choice, made a big gesture to her," Sasuke says. "But he didn't. It was calculated. The girl didn't have any other options – he'd just killed the last of her relatives." Sasuke's fists tighten around the handle of the pan. "As the last blood link to the ruling family, if she stayed behind, any ambitious noble could've easily taken her as a wife. And he might not have been much better for her than Indra was. She would've known this."

"So, you say it wasn't a true choice at all..."

"It was manipulation," he affirms.

Sakura frowns down at her food, although she isn't really seeing it. A moment later, she finds herself saying, "I don't think it was."

Sasuke makes a frustrated noise. "Sakura, you can't be that naïve –"

"No, listen," she cuts him off. "Even if she didn't go with Indra and that did happen, chances are they would've treated her a lot better than she'd been her entire life. And if someone tried to mistreat her..." She remembers the way that tree looked, turning to ashes in front of her. "Shachi knew how to use chakra now. She could defend herself."

"Would she have though?"

"Yes," Sakura says, inexplicably sure. "Indra showed her a different way. He gave her freedom – the only gift she'd ever gotten from anyone. She would've defended that to the death if she chose to stay behind. Even though it was never really an option for her."

"Hm. An unwise choice."

Sakura feels a tiny prick of defensiveness, wanting to stand up for the girl she is in her dreams. "But it was hers to make."

"Hn."

"I chose you. Was that an unwise choice?" When he doesn't reply, she sighs sadly. "You still feel that way? Even now?"

"No," he replies faster than she expected, meeting her gaze. "I should –" she opens her mouth to protest because this is an old disagreement between them, but he forestalls this by concluding, "–but I don't."

She feels a tightness behind her eyes and her heart flutters. "Good," she tells him firmly.

"I suppose I'm the same selfish man I've always been," Sasuke says, as he puts away their cooking utensils and banks the fire. "And...I can empathise."

"With what?"

"With Indra."

"Well, that makes sense," Sakura muses. "You are him – were him."

"No. That's not what I mean."

"Then what?"

"I understand the need for something – for someone – to be completely yours when you have nothing else left."

She isn't quite sure what to say to that.

眠り

They leave her father's home behind, followed by Lord Indra's loyal disciples. Those servants who hold any affection for Shachi accompany her, agreeing to abide by the wishes of her husband. Anyone from the court who protests her father's death is dealt with easily and without remorse by Indra.

Any of his disciples who try to warn him from taking her along meet the same end. Within the first hour, Indra makes clear what being his wife means. Before her horrified eyes and the stoic faces of his supporters, he beheads a man who dares make a disparaging remark about her.

As the palace is consumed in flames, Shachi numbly follows her new husband to her fate.

There is no time to rest or acclimate to her new life as immediately the band of wanderers heads for the borders of the country. Her wedding night is spent alone in a crude tent while her husband strategizes with his disciples.

The distant part of her that is Sakura is grateful for this – dream or not, she doesn't relish the idea of experiencing another woman's relations with her husband. Beyond the sense that she would somehow be unfaithful to her own husband, it's an intimate moment meant to be shared by two people; she would feel like a voyeur.

As it turns out, the awkwardness doesn't come from anything resembling intimacy.

Shachi's husband hasn't spoken to her for two days, occupied as he is with other matters, and when he enters their tent, it appears he intends to continue this trend. With the same economy of movement he uses to teach ninjutsu, Indra disrobes and shoots her a look that she supposes means he wants her to lie back.

Embarrassment and panic settle over her, and it's not uniquely hers.

Are you kidding?! Sakura demands from whatever disembodied place she occupies in her past-self's head. I don't want to be here for this!

But whatever force is behind these dreamlike sojourns into the past remains unmoved by her discomfort. Shachi is already moving herself to accommodate her husband, even as she trembles with nerves. She swallows, mouth dry, and tries to keep her eyes on Indra's face, even though they keep nervously flitting to his body. She has never seen an unclothed man before, and while it's strange, the broadness of his naked shoulders and the ridges of his chest instil within her the bizarre temptation to reach out and touch him.

And other parts of him, the portion of her that is Sakura thinks with a dizzy sense of disbelief.

She's trying not to notice that Indra's naked body is just as attractive to her as her own husband's, and damn it all, her eyes keep roving downward to where he's stroking himself to hardness. The thoughts don't feel like hers, and she wonders if Shachi's perceptions are clouding her own.

Shachi quietly panics, wondering how he's supposed to fit inside her, but he doesn't seem aware as he kneels before her, pushing her robe over her hips.

"You'll need more practical clothing for travel," he tells her, but before she can marvel at him breaking the silence, he pulls her legs apart. A flood of embarrassment at suddenly having that part of her bared to him hits her then – the emotion is strong enough that Sakura can feel it second-hand – but it's soon replaced with discomfort as two long fingers push inside of her, scissoring to stretch her open.

I guess that's the most consideration he's going to give, Sakura thinks bitterly as Shachi shuts her eyes and tries to keep her breathing normal, hoping not to betray her discomfort.

As Indra adjusts himself over her – them? – Sakura tries to mentally inch herself away, to somehow make herself smaller, thinking she really, really shouldn't be here for this!

When Indra pushes into her, Shachi clenches her teeth together, refusing to cry out at the hot, stinging pain of being filled too tightly. Sakura can't help echoing the reaction, surprised by the pain – her first time didn't hurt at all – and the slight scent of blood in the air.

He either doesn't notice, or doesn't care because he settles into a rhythm – a frustrating one – of quick, shallow thrusts, his pace never changing. Pinpricks of tears form in the corner of Shachi's eyes, but she remains mute.

Despite her desperate attempts to ignore what she's dreaming about, Sakura can't help but feel a sense of indignation. She wants nothing more than to lash out, to shove him away, to somehow capitalise on Shachi's discomfort with the whole endeavour, but unlike the other times she's somehow managed to break through, the other woman's mind is set. It's not like the beach or the altar when their desperation was in sync – when they were united in their need to save him.

Right now, Shachi is frightened, but Indra is the man who rescued her, who she has always been inexplicably drawn to. Unlike what Sakura is used to, Shachi sees this as a duty she is meant to endure uncomplainingly.

It seems like forever before Indra shudders, and Sachi feels something warm and wet fill her as he goes still. She expects him to sag forward and her arms twitch with some primitive instinct to embrace him now, but he catches himself on his hands. For several seconds, he holds himself there, eyes closed, slightly out of breath, and then he pulls out of her and rolls away.

In disbelief, she watches him re-dress himself and exit the tent, leaving her lying on her back, legs bare and open, with a feeling of shame growing inside her.

The man is a complete imbecile, Sakura thinks, and wonders if perhaps Sasuke was right about this relationship being doomed.

夢

The rain hasn't let up all week. If Sakura didn't know any better, she'd swear they were in Ame, except that's hundreds of miles away. Even in the tiny inn Sasuke managed to find, everything feels damp and chilly, and to be honest, it's one of those days when Sakura misses her warm bed back home in Konoha.

Except, it's not really my bed anymore, is it?

Although they haven't discussed it, she expects that she and Sasuke will move into their own home upon returning to the village. The old Uchiha district is in ruins, of course, never rebuilt following Pein's attack, but Konoha is growing quickly and there are many new developments. There's no doubt that between Naruto and Kakashi, there will be a place for the Uchiha in the village that ignored them for so long.

And their child will never feel unwanted.

Sakura has never known neglect, but her dreams of Shachi's life give her a stark portrait of what that feels like. Although the details always fade upon waking, she remembers images, knows that the other woman spent her early life left out in the cold.

Maybe even her later life...

She winces as she remembers the particularly unfeeling marriage consummation she was subjected to – both through Shachi's experience and herself as witness. The memory makes her shift uncomfortably and pull Sasuke's cloak closer around her. Across the room, he's finishing up a mission report; usually, she's the one to do that, but today, her fingers feel cold and stiff from the weather, so he took over.

Sasuke sits there, brow furrowed as he jots down the (no doubt) vaguest information he can think of. He is utterly calm and businesslike.

Just like Indra.

Again, Sakura experiences an overwhelming sense of awkwardness because she can't stop thinking about her dream the night before...or fight down the guilt that's been nagging at her since it happened.

I have to say something.

She just really, really doesn't want to.

"That should keep Kakashi off our backs for a while," Sasuke says suddenly, uncharacteristically the one to break the silence. There is a tiny hint of smugness in his voice as he rolls the scroll up to send back by hawk; his aversion to sending regular status updates hasn't changed at all.

"You make it sound like he's hounding us every day, instead of every week or so."

"That's what it feels like," he grumbles.

"It could be worse. We could've told them about the baby already."

He shoots her a comically alarmed look. "Don't even think about it."

Sakura's mouth twitches.

They haven't told anyone back home about her pregnancy. On the one hand, there's a practical reason – mission reports are no place for birth announcements; it wouldn't be safe or professional. On the other hand, Sakura suspects that the minute they reveal her condition, she and Sasuke will end up with an escort of a thousand Naruto clones in Sage mode from here back to Konoha. And possibly a parade, if Kakashi's in a particularly demonstrative mood.

Sakura isn't quite ready to give up her privacy with Sasuke just yet. Things are good. They're just short of perfect...if it weren't for –

Indra's face flashes in her mind again, and then parts of him which are definitely, definitely not his face.

Sakura shuts her eyes tight and burrows further into Sasuke's cloak.

She shouldn't have that image in her mind; in fact, she shouldn't even be able to imagine a scenario that would put that image in her mind. Yes, she's seen naked men before – she's a medic, so it's in the job description – but seeing Indra Ōtsutsuki, the mythical progenitor of the Uchiha clan, utterly bare and preparing to take her – Shachi's – virginity is not a scenario she ever would've imagined for herself.

Sasuke is the one she waited for, the one whose body she spent almost a year now learning and claiming as her own. He's the one she saved herself for, and even if it's all a dream and technically not her body, she feels dirty somehow. The whole experience was made even worse because she was there and couldn't leave – couldn't wake up. Shachi's discomfort and pain became her own.

Why can I make myself intervene sometimes, but other times I don't have any power at all?

The whole thing is upsetting and scary and –

"If it bothers you that much, do it."

Her head shoots up with wide eyes and she stares at her husband uncomprehendingly. "What?"

"That look on your face," he clarifies, coming to sit in front of her. "If not telling them bothers you so much, tell them. There's still room in the report before I send it."

"That's not it," she tells him quickly. "I'm fine with waiting. Really. It's just... There's something else."

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue, and she takes a deep breath.

Shimmying out of the cloak – because it feels wrong somehow to confess this while wrapped in a garment that smells so strongly of her husband – she stiffens her spine.

"The last dream I had was a little more...intense than usual."

"Intense," he repeats neutrally, making her blush and look away.

Slowly, haltingly, she tells him about the surreal experience of her past life's first time. She does her best to describe it all from Shachi's point of view, trying to make clear to him (and herself) that she wasn't involved beyond witnessing it.

Sasuke doesn't outwardly react the whole time, and she wonders if it's just something he's having a hard time processing. But then he sighs and says, "I suppose that's to be expected. You've experienced every other aspect of her life. It wouldn't make sense not to live through that one as well."

Of all the reactions in the world, she did not expect this one.

"You're not angry?" she whispers.

"It would be irrational to get angry over something you can't control. The fact that you witnessed such a scene with Indra doesn't bother me. He is me – at least in a metaphysical sense – and long dead."

Sakura's brain takes a few seconds to process this, and she squints at Sasuke suspiciously. "Really? It doesn't bother you at all?"

His right eye twitches and his jaw clenches. "All right," he allows after a second. "It bothers me. But not as much as the fact that you're trapped in this woman's life."

"I'm not trapped exactly. I just... I sometimes feel like I'm moving farther away from myself," she corrects. "When I'm there, it feels like she's real and I'm the dream. That this life is the dream. This morning, I woke up and, for a minute, I actually forgot who I was."

Sasuke's eyes snap to hers, a glint of alarm there. "We need to stop this then."

"And if we can't?"

"Then we need a way to ensure you don't lose yourself in these dreams."

"I'm open to suggestions."

"Kakashi had some ideas..."

"You told Kakashi about this?" Sakura exclaims.

"He's the only one with enough knowledge and experience with a Sharingan to offer feasible suggestions," he replies, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "In the event that I needed to –"

"To what? Sit in on my dreams?"

The thought of him doing that, especially given the recent subject matter, is mortifying. Awkward sexual encounters aside, she doesn't want her husband to see her as this other woman – this docile, accommodating creature. Besides, they have a long-standing agreement that he will never use his Sharingan on her without express permission and as a last resort.

"Maybe I'll see something there that I recognise that you don't. Something that can help us end whatever's happening."

"And if you don't, I'm giving you complete access to all my memories! There are things I don't want you to see, Sasuke! Just like you wouldn't want me to see a lot of what's in your head."

"I won't look."

"How? You expect me to just imagine a door to slam in your face?"

"You just need to focus on the memories you want me to see and I'll see only them."

She clenches her fists. "I don't like this."

"Sakura, please."

He never asks her for anything. Even more rarely does he plead so earnestly, his face open and bordering on desperate. It's the last thing she wants to do, but maybe the residual guilt about this entire situation is weighing more heavily on her heart because she slumps her shoulders and nods.

"Fine," she exhales quietly. "Only this once."

"All right."

"I mean it. This is... This can't... If you can't figure something out from this, we don't do this again. I don't... I can't have you in my head."

He already has claim to every other part of her, she needs her mind to be her own.

"I understand." He reaches tentatively forward, tilting her chin so that she is looks directly at him. "Concentrate on what you want me to see. I'll ignore everything else."

"Want is a strong word for it," she mutters, but then focusses on the experiences she's had as Shachi.

Sasuke's right eye glows red, tomoe spinning, and Sakura feels like an invisible, mind-numbing wave has passed over her. Time completely ceases for her. She's frozen in the moment. And then –

"Nothing."

She blinks as the world coalesces around her. Sasuke is looking at her in calculating confusion.

"What do you mean nothing?" she repeats.

"I mean, there's nothing for me to see," he says, grimacing in frustration. "Everything about you is there in place, but there's no trace of these dreams you've been telling me about anywhere in your memory."

"How..." Her mouth feels dry. "How is that possible?"

"It's not."

They both know this – Sasuke because his kekkei genkai offers him an almost absolute knowledge of these things and Sakura because of her medical studies. From a biological standpoint – and based on information that Ino has plied her with over the years concerning how the human mind works – her memories and dreams have to be stored somewhere within her.

So why aren't they there?

"We need to know more," he tells her firmly, voice straddling the line between a plea and an order.

She knows Sasuke is furious about this development, but even more to the point, he's worried. There's nothing he can do for her and that makes him feel useless – something he hasn't felt since he was a child.

"We'll figure it out," she says, proud that she manages to keep her own uncertainty from leaking through.

眠り

Indra did not exaggerate when he painted the stark portrait of their life together.

Shachi is immediately recognised and hailed as his wife among the disciples. She's spoken to with more deference than she's ever experienced. She is queen in all but name, for Indra has no use for titles. Even so, her role, at first, is just as a tool – a means of lulling possible opponents into a false sense of security, or adding some form of legitimacy to her husband's meetings with foreign warlords.

Still, what little comforts there were in her previous life are gone, replaced with gruelling hours of toil. As the leader's wife, she is not just responsible for Indra's well-being, but that of every man and woman who follows him.

Her former servants are now her peers for there is no real rank here, and she learns useful tasks she never even considered before. Shachi cleans weapons and digs latrines when they set up camp. She manages accounts, ensures supplies reach everyone as needed, helps the women cook or clean, and learns how to better treat the sick. Twice, she finds herself helping to deliver babies to wives of her husband's disciples. She works her hands to bleeding and, at night, goes to sleep exhausted.

It's the happiest she's ever been in her life.

Indra also did not lie about his demeanour. His is not a kind man, cold and abrupt even when they're alone. Despite the painful awkwardness of their first time, he visits her every night, and as intercourse becomes more familiar to him, he makes efforts to be gentle. But the air of duty never truly leaves him. It's something she resigns herself to unquestioningly. At least it doesn't hurt the way it did the first time, and if this the extent of their spousal relationship, it's still more than she would have expected.

Even in her own little corner of Shachi's psyche, once the routine is established, Sakura is better able to distance herself from

Until one night, when everything changes.

At first, everything seems normal – Indra enters their tent, doesn't say a word, but disrobes and climbs on top of her. The act is detached and unemotional as usual, and Shachi simply sighs to herself and stares at the ceiling while Indra pushes into her, settling into his customary rhythm.

As he is adjusting her legs around his hips, he moves suddenly, and on the downward stroke, his pubic bone hits up against her in just the right way. An unexpected jolt courses through her, and she gasps in surprise. Indra pauses, his entire body going still, eyes flitting to her face in something like curiosity. She has never made any sound before, believing that he would prefer her silence during a deed he obviously considers a burden. She bites her lip and looks away, embarrassed, and waits for him to continue, to ignore this minor interruption and get back to it.

He does – slowly pulling out of her almost completely, and then thrusting back in and –

Again, he hits up against that spot – a bundle of nerves she never gave any thought to – and she hisses, throwing her head back against her pillow as a tiny flicker, like electricity, surges through her. Warm heat coils within her, somewhere just behind her navel. Again, he goes still and she shoots a panicked look at him – is he annoyed by the noise she's making or perhaps, less likely, does he think he's hurting her?

But to her surprise, she sees the expression of a man who has just made a discovery – or perhaps confirmed a theory. It's speculative, like she's fascinating or doing something he finds fascinating.

He adjusts his hold on her once more, arranging with one hand so that her leg falls over his shoulder, and the other – she feels his fingers brush against her in that place, just above where they are joined. Her own fingers lash out, scraping fruitlessly for purchase against the tatami as she tries to adjust to the combined feel of him touching her and being inside her.

Indra rubs that sensitive spot again and again, his movements deliberate and unyielding. Soon, she is straining and writhing beneath him, trying to hold back her moans as her brain tries to interpret whether this is pain or pleasure. Her movements must be pleasing to him, too, because he makes tiny, growling noises at the back of his throat and his hold on her leg tightens to the point of bruising.

She doesn't even care.

His eyes glint, flickering from black to red, and that's all the warning she gets before he's thrusting into her again. Only this time, it's anything but leisurely, and he doesn't stop touching her even as surprised gasps tear from her throat – in fact, he rubs his thumb more concertedly against that spot. Small, tight circles, somehow interspersing the rhythm of his thrusts, and she is bombarded by a fast-growing, simmering sensation across her entire body.

She can't hold back the loud moan because this – this – she never would've expected. Not from him. Not from any man, but especially not from him.

He leans forward then, his fingers never stopping, his pace never faltering, but the angle of penetration changes, and the tip of him is reaching deeper inside her now. Unlike before, unlike every time before, she feels no discomfort from being filled; in fact, she likes the feeling, the strong force of him between her thighs. It's still hard to breathe. She finds she can't quite draw a full breath into her lungs, but that's fine as long as he doesn't stop because if he does, she'll stop feeling like this and –

Shachi can't think straight. She's vaguely aware of reaching out, grabbing hold of his shoulders, her nails sinking in to the surprisingly soft flesh there, but he doesn't recoil or rear back. In fact, his eyes narrow, and something primitive passes over his features.

It's the closest he's come to looking at her like a man is supposed to look at a woman – at his wife.

That laser focus, red eyes gleaming, black spirals spinning like he's committing all of this to his memory is what makes her cry out then, her eyes rolling back, toes curling, and something within her shattering.

夢

Sakura wakes on the tail end of an orgasm, gasping, stomach tight, and her muscles clenching. There's a familiar wetness between her thighs and Sasuke is peering down at her. The dying embers of their fire cast shadows over his features, and when he murmurs her name, it's tentative, like he's unsure she can answer.

"I'm fine!" she squeaks, utterly embarrassed and ashamed. She whirls around, turning her back to him while she sorts herself out. She feels hot and flustered, the muscles in her womb still contracting, the memories of Indra's unexpected touch still causing a slew of unwanted reactions.

While a part of her is happy that Shachi's married life wasn't completely devoid of pleasure after all, it leaves Sakura in a bit of an uncomfortable predicament. Lying next to her husband, fresh from an unexpected sex dream about another man –

Not another man. Same man. Different time!

But her frantic thoughts do nothing to make her feel any better about it all.

Sasuke moves closer, his chest against her back, leaning over so that the tips of his hair tickle the side of her face. She arches away from him.

"That wasn't just the usual dream, was it?" he asks, voice maddeningly controlled, and she wonders if he's trying to decide whether to yell at her or tease her. Neither option is particularly welcome, but he doesn't wait for her to answer. "Do you want to know how I know that?" She groans and pushes her face into her blankets; the warmth in her cheeks could rekindle their dying fire. "I could see your face. And I know that expression very well."

Sakura growls and shoves herself into a sitting position, almost smacking into his jaw with the back of her head.

"Fine!" she cries, glaring at him. "Okay! You caught me! It wasn't the regular kind of weird dream. There was sex involved. And it was actually good sex for once. Which I thought was impossible because your past-self was a bit of a moron when it came to getting the job done!"

Sasuke blinks, looking as if he's not sure whether to be offended or pleased by this.

"And I thought these dreams were supposed to have some kind of deeper meaning, something that my past-self was trying to tell me. But right now, I think she just has a really, really deeply-hidden sadism because why the hell would I need to know that much about her and him and it's really, really frustrating!" Her voice breaks a little. "And I know it's technically you – was you – but it still feels like I'm...like I'm being unfaithful somehow. And I hate it!"

And, damn it, she's crying now! Why is she crying? She's not sad; she's angry and exasperated, and she just wants to punch something, but there's nothing nearby.

Sasuke is possibly aware of this need, however, he doesn't move away from her.

"You are not being unfaithful," he informs her. "From what I've read, it's perfectly natural to have fantasies about other people, especially during pregnancy."

"They're not fantasies! And it's not – I've never – " she struggles. "I've never thought about anyone else in that way, and if I did...you were still always involved." She remembers a long-forgotten incident involving an image of Sasuke and Sai, and as embarrassing as that was, this feels somehow more so.

"The dreams will run their course," Sasuke assures her simply, like he's trying to convince more than just her.

"Will they?" she challenges. "I don't feel like they will." She folds her arms over her chest, elbows drawn protectively into her body. "What if the rest of this pregnancy, I get to spend living her life and mine?"

"Then, like you said, we'll figure it out," he tells her.

"But what if it's not just this pregnancy, but every pregnancy? Or my whole life? What if I never get a quiet night of sleep again?"

"From the parts you told me and how fast it all appears to be progressing, it might only last as long as her life runs its natural course."

"But then what if I start living someone else's life after hers?" she cries, beginning to panic like she hasn't since this whole thing started. "What if...what if it wasn't my only past-life? What if it was someone else's, too? What if I start dreaming about Madara Uchiha?"

Oh gods! What if I start dreaming about having sex with Madara Uchiha?!

She remembers his dead eyes and cracked skin from their battle with his reanimated corpse.

"Oh, I'm going to be sick..."

Her shoulders slump and she tries to fight down the urge to burst into tears again.

She is startled by a sudden tap to her forehead, and when she glances up, Sasuke is gazing at her intently.

"You're overthinking it," he tells her. "Right now, worrying won't do anything. In the morning, we'll find a priest or someone who might know more. We're on the border of the Land of Forests. There's a library in Suganuma that's one of the oldest libraries in the world. We can start looking there, see if there's any mention of Shachi, or if this phenomenon has happened to anyone before."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"There's another library in Key country. And in Claw. There are temples scattered across the world. And Orochimaru knows a lot about history and the arcane. I'll write to him and see if he knows anything."

Sakura's eyes narrow in suspicion. "This is why you decided we should continue travelling along the east coast instead of heading towards home, isn't it?"

"Hm."

"And you couldn't let me know about this? Instead, you let me quietly panic?"

"You are anything but quiet," he reminds her with a yawn.

Sakura glares. "You're taking this way too well."

"It's as you said," he replies, lying back down on the ground and closing his eyes. "After this, nothing will surprise me. So, go back to sleep."

Sakura gapes at her husband for a full half-minute and then lies down with a grumble. "You never react how I think you're going to react," she complains. "It's on purpose, isn't it?"

"Keeps the mystery alive," he mumbles tiredly.

She smiles tightly at this. Sasuke has a dry sense of humour which she didn't learn until he returned to Konoha. He only ever employs it when he's in a particularly good mood or exhausted. She feels guilty, knowing it's the latter. It's easier to appreciate his jokes when she's made him happy, rather than overtired.

And there are so many ways she likes to make him happy...

There's a familiar heat creeping up her neck and the tightness in her belly is back, and really, it's absolutely the worst timing, but...

"Sasuke?" she asks, plaintively, leaning in to him.

She hears him sigh. "Neither of us is ever going to sleep again at this rate."

眠り

Although she's never known the touch of any other man, Shachi knows that her husband is not a passionate lover by nature. However, in the ensuing weeks, he more than makes up for that with his unyielding focus.

Their nightly relations are no longer something she hopes to simply endure. When he comes to their tent at night, she eagerly helps him take off his clothing and surrenders easily to his touch. Over the course of weeks, he learns her body, learns the places that make her gasp and sigh, or the way a twist of the fingers can make her scream his name.

When she is feeling particularly bold, she tries to return the favour, wrapping her fingers around the length of him, wrenching surprised, pleased gasps from his mouth. Indra always stops her before he reaches his own release, however, always pulling her close so that he can finish inside of her. All the while, he watches her reactions, as if he is testing something, or learning something.

She wonders what will happen when he grows bored, but that eventuality never arrives.

Despite an enthusiasm for laying with his wife, he has never kissed her. Sakura has a hard time ignoring the ominous message implied in this.

When Shachi's monthly bleeding doesn't come, she visits the camp healer, Dewadasi. The older woman tells her what she already knows: she's with child. For a long while, Shachi can't think past stunned amazement. And then the other woman pushes that astonishment further.

"He listened then, I suppose?'

"What do you mean?"

"He came to me once, a month or so after your marriage. He was concerned that you weren't pregnant yet," Dewadasi tells her.

"What did you tell him?" Shachi asks, hesitant.

"The same thing I would tell any woman. If the gods decree you won't bear children, there's nothing that can be done. But if it's simply a matter of coaxing it about, well. That's another matter entirely." Her smirk widens. "I told him some old wives' tale of how to ensure a man's seed takes root; if a woman experiences the same release as a man, the contractions in the womb help it grow. Of course, to be effective at all, it must happen frequently..."

Shachi's cheeks flood with colour, thinking on her husband's attentiveness in the past weeks. "Is that...is that true?"

"Well, you're pregnant now, aren't you?" the other woman says with a wink.

Shachi is mortified that the other woman took it upon herself to coach her husband about their intimate relations, and it must show because Dewadasi snorts.

"Being the wife of a great leader is difficult enough," she tells her. "There's no need to add an unfulfilling marriage. He owes you a lot, and if he can't show it in other ways, he can show you in this one."

The mortification begins to edge into something like gratitude, but Shachi is still eager to take her leave of the all-knowing woman. Dewadasi doesn't let her go without a final word, however.

"It's very strange," she remarks lightly. "Most men in his position, they think something is wrong with their wife, and they take a concubine. He wanted to know what he could do." She raises an eyebrow at Shachi. "Our leader does not operate in a world where he can't manifest his will, I suppose."

夢

Some mornings, it's hard to remember where she is or who she is.

Gazing over at the slumbering form of her husband, Sakura sometimes experiences a wave of disorientation or confusion when his features don't appear how she remembers them. Moments later, when she comes back to herself, she always feels a cold jolt of fear that this is even a question.

It leads to many instances of burrowing back under the covers with him, trying her best to be as close as possible. He grumbles about her bothering him before he's ready to wake, but his arm always finds its way securely around her back, holding her tight in his sleep as if he unconsciously knows how much she needs him to anchor her just then.

Their search for answers has yielded nothing so far.

The library in Suganuma holds nothing of use. The farthest back the records go concerning the Uchiha are a few centuries, and there are very few women referred to at all – names like Teisōko, Chiori and Naori, but not Shachi.

They are both discouraged, but keep looking. She eventually caves to Sasuke's suggestion that they bring their problem to those more attuned to the supernatural.

It's an uncertain move for both of them.

Sakura didn't grow up in a particularly spiritual family – her family observed most festivals and celebrations out of respect for tradition rather than any particularly strong belief – and Sasuke's views are even murkier. He may have followed his family's religious traditions as a child, but after the massacre she doubts he recognised any kind of higher power. Learning that he is the reincarnation of an ancient demigod has obviously made him reconsider some things, however.

The first priest they visit thinks that the problem is the nightly visitations themselves. He offers to summon a baku to eat them, but Sakura balks at this. She's not superstitious, but she has read enough mythology and lore to know that spirits are usually hard to control. If a baku is not satisfied with consuming her nightmares, it may go on to devour her hopes and dreams as well.

And she fought too hard, and too long to make those a reality.

Another – a priestess this time – seems more willing to believe that something is trying to speak through Sakura. She believes that in time, the message will be made apparent, but if Sakura is impatient, the woman volunteers to take the spirit in to herself for a face-to-face discussion. Both Sakura and Sasuke are skeptical about this, but they try it anyway.

When it doesn't work, the woman accuses them of wasting her time. Sasuke mutters that she's clearly a fake, and they leave.

It's the last temple they visit.

The closest that Sakura gets to an answer is a week later, when she and Sasuke find themselves in a rural village where the people barely speak the language. The area is undergoing a severe drought, and Sasuke gets involved in the local community efforts to find and dig a new well while Sakura treats the villagers for dehydration and related maladies.

The whole day, she experiences the sensation of being watched, and at one point she looks up just in time to see an old woman – a wrinkled, grey and leathery creature – observing her work. It's too busy for Sakura approach her during the day, but later that evening she asks around after her and is pointed to a hut at the far end of the village.

She and Sasuke are accompanied by one of the village elders, a man who can barely speak Japanese himself but assures them that "Grandmother is most wise".

Upon their arrival, the woman takes one looks at Sasuke, makes a panicked sign with her hands that Sakura has come to recognise as a warding against evil, and then locks herself into her home. Sakura spends an hour cajoling Sasuke to wait for her back in the village proper, and then another trying to get the woman to come out and speak to her.

When she does, the staggered questions and responses given through their interpreter make no sense whatsoever. In the end, though, the woman tentatively shuffles forward and places a gnarled hand on Sakura's belly. She murmurs incomprehensively, gazing up at Sakura with eyes that are knowing and sympathetic.

"What did she say?" Sakura whispers.

The interpreter shifts uncomfortably. "No matter."

"Tell me."

"Is...hard to say. Old word. Older different talk than here."

"Older dialect?"

"Yes. Yes, is that. I could mishear."

"What do you think she said?"

The man looks apologetic then, shoots a worried gaze at the old woman, who nods as though to encourage him to go a head. He sighs and says, "Either she says 'cure' or..."

"Or?"

"... or she say curse."

Sakura marches back to Sasuke, pale and shaking, anger and fear competing for dominance.

"I'm not doing this anymore," she tells him.

He is alarmed, but his tone remains measures. "What did she say?"

"I couldn't understand her," Sakura lies, the first time she has ever told him an outright falsehood since that horrible day at Samurai Bridge. "But all this asking people for answers about something they can't understand – it's upsetting. I get my hopes up, and then..." She trails off, clenching her fists. "No more gurus or priests or...or witch doctors. We find facts, or we stop looking."

"Alright," Sasuke says, even though she senses he isn't completely happy with that decision.

つづく

_____

Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated!

クリ