This chapter is unedited. It will be edited when I and my beta get to it. So you really don't have to email me pointing out minute grammar/syntax errors. Yes, I am aware they exist, it will be fixed when I have time. Until I get paid for writing, I feel no guilt missing a few spelling mistakes...

Also, there are some NSFW themes in this chapter. Warning for very mild dubious consent.

_____

The hospital in Kumo is as pristine and efficient as the one back home, yet Sakura can't help fidgeting while she lies back on the assigned bed. The doctor meant to be conducting her ultrasound is taking far too long to arrive, and though they're only here with the express purpose of checking the baby's health (and learning it's gender), she would rather be wandering around the hospital.

Apparently, there's a medic-nin visiting from Iwa that's experimenting with chakra tethering. Sakura's itching to see how that's done, mind already ablaze with potential life-saving procedures if it is successful.

Also, she really has to pee.

Her eyes flit toward Sasuke, who lurks by the door, wary and restless. He's even less comfortable right now than she is, although in his case it's a combination of not liking hospitals, or people I general, or Kumo. The latter two are more or less mutual – people here have long memories about his attack on the Raikage's brother, and then there's the fact that the Raikage himself has never completely forgiven him about the arm...

Time for a distraction...

"So, which are you hoping for?" she asks, making him adopt a somewhat confused frown. "A boy or a girl?"

They've never really talked about it. Her first trimester she didn't really bring it up – it felt a little like tempting fate to talk too much about the baby while the risk of miscarriage was still high. And then they were both so consumed with understanding and investigating her dreams, they never really got around to it.

Sasuke doesn't answer right away, and she wonders if he's actually thinking about it, weighing pros and cons...

"I don't care," he finally says, and shoulders relaxing. "I never thought I would be at the point in my life where I would have a child, let alone have a preference over whether it's a girl or a boy."

"You did when we were twelve," she reminds him innocently. "You wanted to repopulate. It was a life goal that you were going to make a reality."

Sasuke shoots her a half-hearted look of annoyance, but his mouth twitches. She often teases him that he was secretly as preoccupied with sex as any other pre-teen boy at that age. It at least downplays his other, more tragic life goals.

"If family history has anything to say about it, it will be a boy," Sasuke declares, not addressing her comment.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because in my family, there have only ever been boys," he shrugs. "In the main branch, anyhow. The Uchiha were never as strict about maintaining clan divisions and controls as the Hyūga, but my immediate family was recognised as the main branch. According to the genealogies I've studied, we only ever had men. My brother and I, my father, my grandfather and his brothers, great-grandfather and his brothers..."

"But there were female Uchiha," Sakura points out. She's seen their names on the rows of gravestones in Konoha's cemetery.

"In the branch families. Women like my mother marry into my our family either from one of the other clan branches, or from outside," Sasuke says. "Although the latter was uncommon."

"That's something to think about," Sakura remarks, thinking on it. Then she grins up at him. "So are you saying I'm uncommon?"

"You're as uncommon as they come," he replies with a smirk.

It disappears an instant later when the door slides open and a lab-coat clad woman steps inside, interrupting their private moment. She beams at them.

"Good afternoon! I'm Dr. Sagara – I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting, Ms Haruno –"

"Uchiha," Sakura corrects, at the same time as Sasuke does.

The woman jumps, having not seen him by the door.

"Oh – I'm...I apologise – I didn't see you there," she says, voice a little strained as she bows; then she summons up a smile. "Congratulations on your marriage, then. We had not received the news of your wedding here in Kumo – I'm surprised, considering how well-known you both are..."

"Well, not everyone wants as big a celebration as certain Uzumakis did," Sakura says lightly, noticing Sasuke tense in annoyance. He may be proud to call her his wife now, but he is also a very private person. She's pretty sure he threatened Naruto with losing another limb if he spready the news about their rather small ceremony.

"We're here for a reason," Sasuke reminds them both, testy; Dr Sagara jumps again and hurries over to the bed.

"Alright. Let me just get set up. If you would like to wait outside, Mr Uchiha –"

"I will stay."

"Oh. Um. Alright. Forgive me, I didn't mean to be rude, it's simply, I'm not used to husbands who stay in the room while –"

"I'm not most husbands."

Dr Sagara is flustered, and Sakura fights to keep the smile off her face. Sasuke gets rather moody when she accuses him of being over-protective, but it's inarguable at this point. She has visions of him becoming one of those parents that hurries after their children with an umbrella lest they get a sunburn.

The great Sasuke Uchiha...a helicopter parent.

She can't help the giggle that escapes her, which causes Sasuke to frown at her because he probably knows exactly what she's thinking. Still, it takes his attention off of Dr Sagara, begins to prep the machine.

Be nice, Sakura mouths to her husband as she pulls her tunic up over her belly; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. However, that doesn't stop him from being inordinately smug when Dr Sagara spreads the cold gel across her belly and Sakura can't help yelping.

"I apologise," Dr Sagara says with a quick smile, and then begins to run the handheld probe across the rounded area. "This shouldn't take too long..."

Sakura makes a face – the movement of the probe and the doctor's light downward pressure cause her bladder to protest – but remains silent. The machine makes a pulsing sound, and she cranes her neck to watch the grainy black and white image on the monitor. Sasuke hasn't moved, but then he has a Sharingan to help him make out the details.

A large, white figure coalesces into view on the screen, and Sakura's breath catches in her throat.

It's not the first time they've seen the baby – her first ultrasound was two months ago, but at the time it looked morel like bean than anything else. Now, however, what she and Sasuke are looking at is very clearly baby-shaped.

Nose and lips and tiny fingers and toes that Sakura finds herself counting.

"Sasuke..." she whispers. "Do you see...?"

But her husband is silent – probably didn't even hear her – eyes fixed to the screen.

"Let's find out if you're having a boy or a girl," Dr Sagara declares cheerfully, shifting the probe again. "The legs are closed - but maybe we can convince him or her to move."

She brings her other hand forward, placing it on Sakura's belly, and sends a gentle nudge of chakra into her womb. The baby doesn't notice at first, and then suddenly begins to shift around, like a child being tickled might try to avoid prying fingers. The image on the screen jumps and warbles. They all wait with baited breath to see how it will settle.

When the image settles again, the nurse looks surprised.

"Uh...it looks like he – or she – has just turned their back to us," she says, and offers Sakura an apologetic smile. "It seems your child doesn't like to be social."

Sasuke's flummoxed expression is what sets her off; within seconds, Sakura (already feeling an overwhelming flood of emotion) is laughing so hard that she starts to cry.

眠り

Shachi has always been deeply lucky with her previous pregnancies, never experiencing more than a token amount of nausea or discomfort. The same cannot be said for her latest.

In the days following her meeting with Asura, she often finds herself bedridden, unable to move for fear of becoming violently ill. She is unable to keep down solid food and certain aromas leave her severely dizzy and lightheaded. Her mind feels muddled from lack of sleep – an annoying symptom that Sakura starts to exhibit as well – and her throat and lips are so tender from vomiting that she can barely speak.

As she finds herself becoming thinner and weaker, any plans to leave Asura's home must be postponed.

The healers that Asura calls to her side maintain that the pregnancy is an unhealthy one, and offer her herb concoctions that would end it and bring her relief. She is furious at this, and in a brief burst of energy throws them from her chambers. It's the last time she hears such nonsense, and from that moment her sister-in-law, Kanna, takes it upon herself to care for her.

The diminutive woman sits by her bed, feeding her tea and water and soup, washing her feeble limbs and assuring her this sickness will pass. Several times Shachi begs to have her chakra restraints removed, hoping to heal herself from whatever is wrong with her, but when Asura finally agrees to it, she finds it doesn't matter.

It isn't a disease or an infection – simply a difficult pregnancy, and for that, there is no cure.

It's just as well. She can barely muster the strength to ensure the child within her is healthy without knocking herself unconscious. Her chakra feels stifled and weak from being repressed for so long.

Her weakened body makes her more susceptible to fever, and with that comes delirium. On the worst days, she spends her waking hours in restless confusion. She dreams of many things, none of which make sense. A girl with pink hair crying out tearfully to a boy as he walks away, a fan emblazoned on his back. A woman dressed in white, with a rhombus in the centre of her forehead faces a man with wild hair and hard eyes, pain written into both their features. A strange woman in white kneeling over a forest grave.

In the worst day, her imagination becomes more ruthless, more attuned to her fears.

She dreams fitfully of returning home to find nothing but charred ruins and bones. Or worse, returning to Indra to find that he has chosen a new bride to replace her. She is too weak to cry, and is instead forced to live through these dreams in silence.

The only comfort is the feel of the child beneath her heart – even as she becomes weaker, it grows stronger. She is determined to feel those first fluttering sensation of life, and to do that she has to live. This burning desire is perhaps what allows her to pull through.

Sakura finds herself just as invested.

No way are you going to live through everything you have and die of a fever or wasting sickness – we are better than this! We're stronger than this!

Once again she focusses all of her semi-conscious efforts into fusing her dream self – her past incarnation – with strength. Just as she did when she saved Indra's life, she now tries to save her own.

If that's even how it works...

After what seems like forever, Shachi's fever finally begins to go down.

The morning after Sakura attempts this, Sasuke comments on her sluggishness, but she brushes it off. All that matters are that her efforts pay off.

Slowly, Shachi's health improves. One day she wakes, inexplicably hungry and energetic. Kanna watches her warily as she eats, and both of them are surprised and pleased when she is able to keep the food down.

As she regains her strength, Shachi requests to see Asura.

"He promised me that he would bring me home," she tells Kanna. "My strength is returning now. He can make good on his promise."

Kanna shifts uncomfortably. "Now is not the best time, sister. Winter has arrived, and it would be a challenge to even the hardiest traveller, not least one who is in a delicate way."

"Winter?" Shachi repeats. "But the trees were still colourful when I came to be here."

"It has been two months since you have been ill," she is told.

Shachi feels as if she has turned to stone.

Two months of her life, gone. And in that time...no sign of Indra?

Is he even looking?

The thought belongs to both Shachi and Sakura, but Shachi is the one to dismiss it right out.

"The cold is not something I worry about," she tells her sister-in-law, going so far as to light the fire in her room with a single breath. It makes her dizzy, but it makes her point. The impressed look on Kanna's face is also worth it. "I must return to my husband and children."

Kanna sighs now.

"That is something easier said than done," she says quietly. "Lord Indra is missing."

Shachi freezes. "What?"

"Once you took ill, my husband grew very worried," Kanna explained. "He left right away to find his brother, to speak to him and explain your whereabouts. To bring him here to you."

"And...?"

"And he was not there," Asura says quietly, entering her chambers. His smile is gone now, making him look even more like Indra, although instead of hard anger in his eyes, she sees genuine regret. "I went to your village and asked to speak to him. The headman told me that Indra and his children have disappeared."

Shachi's hand grips the front of her robe in horror. "Dis...disappeared?"

"There is now unrest among the people as they try to find someone to lead them in his absence," Asura continues. "Some think he abandoned them, others think he saw your abduction as an attack on his clan. They say he wanted to ensure his children were protected."

"Yes...that has to be it," Shachi murmurs, distracted. She is torn between relief that her children are with their father, and an overwhelming worry. Where would he have gone? Is this why he hasn't come for her? He was busy bringing their family to somewhere that they would be safe? How will she find him if he is no longer where she expects him to be?

"Little sister, I will find him for you," Asura promises. "But know that until I do, you are safe here. Stay with us until you have borne the child, and when you are strong again, if I haven't found him, then I will bring you with me."

Shachi is quiet for a long time, Asura's words slowly sinking in, and yet not having any true meaning to her.

"I will wait until spring," she says quietly, but firmly. "And then you will help me find him."

"But you will still be–" Kanna protests.

"Then arrange a litter and an escort, because I am returning to my people," Shachi says coldly. "I will do it even without your help if I must. MY child will be born in the land that has become my home, not here."

"Sister, this could be your home."

"Not without my children. Without my husband. And it's far more likely that he will find me there than here," she replies. "Especially as he doesn't yet know it's your hospitality that I am benefitting from."

Her words clearly sadden Asura, but he nods. "Very well. I promise you. Once you are well enough, I will personally bring you home. And if my brother is there, I will accept whatever consequences he chooses to impart."

Shachi pauses here, impressed by his earnestness, and says quietly, "I will try to stay his hand. There should not be bloodshed between brothers."

Asura's eyes soften, and he looks like he intends to reach out for her, but she turns to stare out the window.

Her composure is an act.

Despite her confident and imperious words, the moment Asura and Kanna leave her alone, she weeps. Grief fills her at the loss, even if it might be temporary. She is trapped in this place, surrounded by kind people who are not her people. Cared for by a family that she would have wished for when she was a child, and yet they feel like pale shadows to her without Indra by her side.

I want to go home...

夢

"I think it's dead."

Sasuke's quiet, amused voice breaks through her thoughts, and Sakura glances up at him in surprise. His eyes are on her hands, and when she looks down, she sees that the fish she was deboning has been reduced to a mushy pulp.

"Oh – sorry, darling," she apologises. "I guess I wasn't paying attention..."

Sasuke doesn't reply – he simply removes the cutting board and pulpy fish, then passes over his own – pristine rice balls and stir-fried vegetables that still look delicious even without the fish.

Sakura scowls. "There's something wrong with this picture."

"Why?"

"You spent the last five year of life as an international criminal and a vagabond, and somehow you cook better than I do. How is that fair?"

"It's a survival skill," Sasuke says with a shrug. "I didn't have a choice but to learn."

"Yeah, but how come you do it better than me?" she complains as she begins to nibble at the rice.

Sasuke seems to sense this isn't actually a question she wants answered and so instead, he changes the subject. "You seem very distracted the past few days."

"I just have a lot on my mind."

"Hm. More dreams?"

"I'm that obvious, huh?" she mumbles, trying not to feel guilty.

"We haven't been around another person for almost a week now," Sasuke answers. "Obviously, it's not something to do with our lives. Our present lives."

"I'm just feeling a little helplessness," she sighs, "because she feels helpless. And it's like watching someone else's life, but at the same time it's my life. Only the bad bits."

Sasuke raises an eyebrow, silently willing her to continue.

"She's been separated from Indra, and all she wants is to be reunited with him, but she's stuck in one place whether she likes it or not. And Asura promised to find him, and it's just...it's like what happened with us," she finishes, pushing away her food. "The promise of a lifetime. Except, it's more like 'lifetimes', isn't it?" Frustration fills her, overtaking her anxiety. "Why am I always waiting for Naruto to bring you back? Why do I have to sit behind and wait? I hate it! It makes me feel useless, and it's even worse than usual because it's her feeling it too, and...and...and why isn't he looking for her?!"

She glares at Sasuke, as if expecting him to answer, but he offers her only a confused look; instead of tempering her growing anger, it just makes it worse.

"You were halfway around the world and found out I was in trouble, and you came after me to make sure I was okay, and we weren't even involved yet! But she's his wife – the mother of his children – and he hasn't found her by now?! He's supposed to be this amazing warrior, why didn't he figure out where she was right away? And why the hell would he take the kids? They're all under ten, they're not old enough to be trekking all across the ass-end of nowhere just so that he can be all mysterious and broody! And while he's off doing that, she's making herself sick over him and trying to make sure their baby is healthy, and he's such a... he's a jerk!"

She jumps to her feet, cheeks flushed and fists clenched.

"What – did he just decide that she served her purpose? 'Oh, let's move on and forget that she ever existed?' There's supposed to be a connection between them! I felt it! Even if he has the emotional range of a rock, he should want to find her – Shannaro!"

She stamps her foot in emphasis.

Sasuke barely jumps out of the way in time to avoid the split in the earth, which consumes their sleeping rolls and backpacks.

Sakura's anger drains away as quickly as it arrived.

"Oh. Oh no – oh, gods, I didn't mean – !" Sakura stares at the cracked ground, then sends Sasuke a panicked look. "I didn't mean to, I was just –"

"Upset."

"Yes."

"Projecting."

"... A little."

"Because of hormones, or the dreams?"

"...Both?"

"Hm."

They regard each other silently a moment. Sakura begins to apologise again, but Sasuke is the one who speaks first for once.

"I wish I had answers for you," he tells her, and she knows that he regrets his inability to assuage her fears and worries. "If I thought it would help, we could investigate the matter more based on what we know of Indra –"

"No," she says immediately. "No, I don't...I don't want to accidentally wake up any more past lives."

Sasuke nods, but she can tell he's relieved. Indra's legacy has only recently been put to rest, there's every possibility that exploring his past life might accidentally reawaken him. In fact, she's kind of surprised it hasn't happened already.

"There had to have been a reason," Sasuke concludes quietly. "Neither of us has ever done anything without a reason."

"I know...she knows, too," Sakura mumbles, crossing her arms across above her growing bump. "But that doesn't make waiting any easier. And it doesn't help that her pregnancy's been horrible. Ugh, that was brutal. She was stuck in bed for two months." She shudders. "At least so far, my pregnancy has been easy."

"Other than inexplicable dreams about your past life."

"Other than that," she agrees.

"And the sudden bursts of hormonal rage that destroy our belongings."

Sakura winces, and peeks over at the mound of shattered dirt. "We'll be able to pick them out though, right?"

Sasuke sighs.

眠り

Throughout the winter, Shachi continues to grow stronger. As soon as she is able to leave her chambers more often, she walks around the estate and, if weather permits, beyond. She is no longer a prisoner here – the seals for her chakra were never replaced – but she still feels as if freedom eludes her, making her restless.

The servants and always-present disciples of Asura don't speak to her, a combination of intimidation and her own reluctance to make friends. However, Kanna usually accompanies her on her walks. Despite the circumstances, they have developed a rapport of sorts. Sometimes Shachi imagines that if their lives had been different, she and her sister-in-law would have been close friends.

Sometimes she takes tea with Asura, and he tells her tales of when he and Indra were younger. She tries not to show how desperate she is to hear these stories, or how delighted she is when Asura mentions a quirk of Indra's that her own children possess.

He talks with affection of his father, Hagoromo, which is a stark difference from the cold enmity her husband resorts to. It makes her curious about the man, who is still away in a place Asura calls Mount Myoboku.

"Time runs differently there," he explains, which makes no sense to her but she accepts nonetheless.

She's actually relieved, because she has no idea what she would say to her mysterious father-in-law anyhow.

The only problem with having Asura and Kanna as her only company is that she always feels very clearly like an outsider. This becomes especially clear over time as she observes their interactions.

In the presence of others, they are polite and show their affection in little ways. They smile, and tease each other lightly with words and jokes, more like comrades then like spouses. It's something Shachi watches with awe, hardly able to comprehended. When they are alone – or rather, when they don't realise she can see them – they hold each other close. Asura might run his fingers through Kanna's hair, or she will nudge his shoulder playfully.

Sometimes, he will lean down and capture his wife's lips, softly and not as a prelude to anything else, but in a way that Shachi can tell is an expression of his love and fondness.

She has to look away in these moments.

Not only is it a reminder of her own missing mate, but of how different her own marriage is. Even if – when – she is reunited with him, Indra will never be an affectionate man. He has never kissed her, and she has never dared to initiate such an intimate gesture.

She never realised before now that she craves that little scrap of affection. The realization adds another element of disappointment to an already frustrated body and spirit.

She misses Indra more than ever.

The safety she feels in his presence, and the quiet companionship of late night conversation. The lack of the latter is even more noticeable over time. Shachi is used to feeling somewhat unsatisfied during the later months of pregnancy, but she finds she wasn't prepared for just how much she does with this one. She craves Indra's touch, burning for him more than she can ever remember.

This time, he isn't there to soothe her with quiet words or the furtive, almost guilty resting of his hands upon her belly. As the winter months continue to stretch on, she falls asleep every night with her heart reaching for someone so far away he might as well not exist.

Lying alone on her narrow pallet in her guest chamber, she misses the solid warmth of him beside her. And the way he would lie still with her after they were both sated and spent, silently accepting as she curled into his side and twined their legs together. She liked to lie with her ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartrate return to normal, arms wrapped around his torso. He would never hold her when they were awake, but at night, whilst they slept, somehow he always ended up spooned against her back, arm slung over her. Sometimes she would wake and feel his mouth brushing against her neck, and she would shift to place her hand over his, pretending she was still asleep as she pulled him closer. Even though she knew he would be aware at the slightest movement. Even though they were both awake, and they both knew it. Somehow, in the dark, they could pretend that this was unconscious movement, permissible; the product of sleeping bodies achieving what conscious minds could not allow.

These nights, there is none of that.

Sometimes, before Shachi succumbs to sleep, she wishes for the other kind of closeness. That of sweat-slicked bodies and lust-filled gasps and red eyes watching her in the darkness as she falls apart. These dreams are almost as painful as the other kind, because it's not just a yearning in her heart but in her body. On these nights, she lies awake for hours, tormented, her body crying out for him.

One night she finally gives in, unable to take the images dancing across the canvas of her mind.

Her memory is good and she can perfectly imagine Indra there beside her, his hand sliding down between her legs and his fingers feeling how ready she is for him. Ever since he first discovered that one sweet spot, he has been unyielding in his pursuit.

Her own fingers trace the path, timid and half-ashamed of what she is doing, but as the shivering bursts of pleasure crawl through her, those feelings recede. There is a familiar sensation of tension building, an expectant sense of impending relief as she imagines Indra, filling her completely, leaning over her –

No, beneath her. She learned in their first year together that he has a secret preference for her to sit astride him and ride him until they both reach completion.

She imagines it's his fingers, lingering at her entrance, his mouth nipping at her breast, so cleverly working in tandem while she tries not to cry out. It's usually her that is the loudest – she begs and cries and (occasionally) resorts to cursing. He is always so adamant about not showing his own enjoyment, trying to remain above the whole experience, but sometimes – on rare nights when their joinings draw into the third or fourth bout – when they are both on the precipice of the pain and pleasure being too much, he will give in.

A broken, wondering sound, ripped from lips and clenched teeth trying to bite down on it, but always – always – recognizable to her.

'Shachi.'

It's as if he's beside her right then, and she cries out against the darkness. The emptiness of her chamber echoes her voice back to her and she freezes, reality suddenly crumbling down around her as she remembers – he is not here.

Her release hits her right after.

There is no relief in it.

夢

Sakura wakes, heart racing and lungs demanding air. Heat spreads across her entire body, trying to escape, but it's as if her skin is an impenetrable barrier. Sweat beads on her forehead, trailing down her neck, back and breasts and she struggles to free herself from twisting prison of her sheets.

"Sakura?"

A face looms in front of her – Indra? No, Sasuke – the shadows of early dawn making it hard to discern his expression.

"Are you alright?"

Sleep causes his voice to fall into a lower register, and she shivers in a way that has nothing to do with cold. She's still far too warm, the tight feeling in her stomachpulsating. She should answer him, she should get up and walk around, she should –

But it's been so long...!

His hand falls on the back of her neck, tentative and light, but it feels as if it's charged, like he's running a current across her skin and suddenly she can't think of anything beyond here, now and mine.

Without replying she shoves him backward, the force of her palm on his chest causing him to let out an oof! of surprise. With quick, frantic movements she crawls over him, wrestling him back against their shared pallet, ripping at the blankets between them.

He doesn't offer much resistance, and if he is bemused by her sudden aggression, he doesn't show it. Not that she could see it if he did, occupied as she is kissing his mouth, nipping at his jaw and licking a line down his throat. Her hands busy themselves with yanking at his shirt and her hips grind down against his.

He's only half-hard beneath her, but he grunts in surprise, reflexively jerking his hips up to meet hers, and she knows it won't take long to fix that. One hand fumbles between them, questing beneath loose drawstring pants until her fingers wrap around his cock. Hard, firm strokes – quick and harsh enough that there might be pain mixed in with the pleasure, but he doesn't even stop her – and he is completely erect.

Her other hand tears at her own clothes – T-shirt and drawstring pants belonging to him, loose and easily slipped out of – then drags his own down, just to the middle of his thigh. She's too impatient for more than that, clambering astride him and desperately trying to position herself over him.

"Sakura," he says, dazed, sluggish uncertainty in his voice.

"Shut up," she whispers, frantic and desperate; it's a plea and order. "Shut up shut up please just – oh!"

Let it never be said that Sasuke can't do as he's told.

She's barely sunk down onto him, the feeling of being full a staggering relief, but he's rocking upward, hand splayed between her shoulder blades, mouth pressed to her right breast. She cries out, gripping his shoulders as his teeth tug at the nipple, twisting her hips as she tries to get the right angle.

She's never like this, she never needs so badly, as if some nameless force is driving her forward. As if for a split second, the roles are reversed and she isn't completely in control of herself, but a vehicle for someone else's needs.

For her needs.

Rocking hard against him, Sakura sets a punishing pace, one that his Sasuke swearing against her skin, and she only just has the presence of mind to reign in her strength, because otherwise she knows she'll crush his pelvis, or the shoulder she is clutching, but she's reaching, reaching, and she just needs –

She lifts herself up, almost completely off of him, and then comes down hard enough to make him shout and her see stars when his cock brushes just there. Something within her trembles, demands more, and she repeats the movement twice, her inner walls clenching down harder on him each time, the heat of her body coiling tighter –

"Fuck, Sakura!"

And he sounds surprised, utterly caught off-guard by his orgasm, shuddering into her, hips still jerking upward reflexively. She feels the warm wetness inside her, but she can't stop, she's not there yet, she can't –

"No!" she whimpers, her rhythm becoming disjointed, the coil of warmth dissipating, threatening to crawl back across her nervous system. "Sasuke – please – !"

She is gasping, wild-eyed, trying to get him to understand.

He still seems a little dazed, but at her plea, he throws himself into movement. Pushing her down on her back, he slips free of her, replacing his cock with fingers; she lets out a garbled curse as he begins determinedly thrusting in and out, thumb rubbing against her clitoris with intent. Her fingers clutch at him, trying to find purchase in his hair or the curve of his shoulder, still reaching –

"Sakura –"

"I can't – !"

"Sakura, stop straining for it," he growls.

"I can't, I need –"

"Look at me." With supreme effort, she does so, meeting his intense, mismatched gaze. "Sakura, let go."

And is it her imagination, or did his right eye just flash red?

It doesn't matter, because that's when her entire body pull taut, spine going rigid and joints locking. It's as if a wave has broken over her, allowing the unbearable, tight heat to dissipate, and she finally falls back against the ground, trembling.

Sakura gasps for air, as if she wasn't breathing during the entire encounter, and is dimly aware of Sasuke tumbling forward as well. He catches himself on his arm, manoeuvering himself to his side rather than on top of her as he would have before her pregnancy. His face is buried just above the swell of her breast, and warm puffs of his breath tells her he's as out of sorts as she is.

For a long time the only sound is their breathing, slowly returning to normal.

"Not...not that I'm at all adverse," Sasuke eventually says, and then there's a pause like he's trying to remember correct sentence structure, "but what exactly was that?"

She wants to laugh and cry because she doesn't know herself.

"I think," she says after a while, "it was three months worth of hormones and frustration."

"Hm?"

She presses her palms against her eyes, distractedly murmuring, "I haven't seen him in months."

Sasuke tenses.

"'I'," he repeats flatly. He pushes himself up onto his arm to consider her, eyes narrowed.

Sakura realises that that look is for a second later as her lethargic words catch up with her.

"You know that I mean," she tells him tiredly. "'She'. 'I'. It's kind of hard to keep my pronouns straight after you just fried my synapses, alright?"

"You shouldn't have to worry about keeping your pronouns straight," he points out, sitting up. She scrambles to do the same, not wanting him to be looking down on her. "Sakura, how connected to her are you?"

"I don't know what you mean..."

"You just referred to yourself as if you were her. You told me the dreams were getting more real, that you felt more like her, but what if that's not it?" he asks. "What if it's more than that?"

"What are you getting at?"

He sighs, and then an uncharacteristically uncertain look overtakes his features. "I mean, how much of what we just did was you wanting me – and how much of it was her wanting him?"

She opens her mouth to reply, and then freezes. She finds she can only stare at him in wide-eyed dismay, because she doesn't know the answer.

眠り

One day, as the snow blankets the land, Asura asks her if she will take supper with him and his father. The old sage has been keeping his distance from her during her stay, and she has never seen him except across the courtyard or in the shadows.

Kanna says that he spends most of his days in seclusion, meditating, but the way she says it Shachi thinks it's not the whole story.

Buoyed by the curiosity born from both Indra and Asura's stories, she eventually agrees.

Lord Hagoromo is an odd figure of a man, pale and towering. Although he unquestionably radiates power, there is something about him that suggests frailty – whether it's the way he rests one arm in the fold of his cloak, or perhaps the heaviness in his tread, she isn't sure. At any rate, it isn't as noticeable once his eyes set upon her, and a pleased expression crosses his face.

"Well met, daughter," he greets, deep voice becoming reedy with age. "I am gladdened that your strength has returned, and that you were well enough to sup with us tonight."

Neither mentions that she has been healthy for weeks now.

"It is my honour to be here," she says politely, then glances around. "Is my sister Lady Kanna not to join us tonight?"

Something like pain crosses her brother-in-law's face, and Lord Hagoromo's shoulders slump a little.

"She informed me she did not feel well tonight," Asura says, offering an apologetic smile that is a little too forced. "She asked that I convey her apologies, and that she will join us next time."

"You assume there will be a next time?" Shachi asks quietly, trying to change the subject. "That is rather presumptuous of you, my lord Asura."

Her brother-in-law blinks, and then realises it's an attempt at humour, and beams at her. "Well, my lady Shachi, I suppose Father and I will just have to prove what wonderful conversationalists we are. The winter here is long and hard, and sometimes the only way to stave off boredom is through stories."

"I imagine you have your own tales to tell," Lord Hagoromo says quietly, tilting his head to one side. "That is...if you are willing to share them."

"There is not much to tell," she demurs, but she somehow finds herself relating to both men a brief version of her childhood. Over the course of the meal, the old sage asks her polite questions, carefully to steer clear of any mentions of her husband. She is unsure if that is more for her benefit or his.

He is also very interested in her children. He listens with suspiciously shining eyes as she speaks of her two sons and four daughters in turn, describing their growth from birth to the moment that she left them. It is simultaneously s joy to speak so freely and so enthusiastically, bit it also renews the pain she feels at having been separated from them.

Has the youngest learned to walk properly yet? Have the older ones also begun their training? Are they alright without her, with only their father to care for them? He has never shied away from helping them through illness of injury, but he is not the type to nurture. She hopes the older ones are looking out for the younger ones, that they care for one another to stave off the loneliness.

There is nothing worse than loneliness...

The old sage notices a lull in her storytelling, and suggests that perhaps she is growing weary.

"It is best for you and the child that you rest," he tells her, motioning for servants to come and clear the table. "While you are here, it would please me greatly if you visited with me. Since Asura has taken over my teachings, I am not so busy that I can't spare some hours to speak with the mother of my grandchildren. If you are to leave us again, I would like to know you as well a possible."

There is a note of entreaty there, a lonely old man's melancholy plea, that has Shachi agreeing.

夢

"It hurts," she whispers dimly one evening, staring into their fire pit.

"Where?" Sasuke asks immediately, concerned.

"No," she tells him gently, offering a sad smile. "Not like that, not the baby. He's fine – using my bladder as a trampoline, but otherwise fine."

Her husband relaxes. "What hurts?"

Sakura sighs and looks back into the flames. "This – this feeling. Feeling what she feels, even with the filter of a dream."

Sasuke doesn't look placated by this.

"I thought I understood," she goes on. "When I – when she was first taken, I didn't give it much thought. I know what it's like to love someone from far away – to not know if you'll have your feelings returned or not. So I thought that's just something she was going to have to endure. I kind of...I felt annoyed with her, for pining." She offers him a sheepish look. "I did so much of that myself, I didn't want to relive that."

"You grew out of it," Sasuke reminds her, even though he has confessed to her before that the idea of her always thinking of him made his years of wandering a little more bearable.

"I know. But it turns out, it's more than that. Being away from him, and knowing – she knows he's not coming from her, I think. Even though she's hoping, she knows. And it's...it's like knives in my gut," Sakura shudders. "What she feels for him, it's so strong – I never realised. And the hope is the worst part. She's there, every day – or every night, I guess – planning for the moment when she gets to go back to him. Even if she knows he isn't there anymore. She's just going to wait for him."

"He doesn't deserve that," Sasuke says with a frown. "No one deserves that kind of devotion, but he definitely doesn't."

Sakura sighs. "You can forgive everyone in the world but yourself, can't you?"

He looks away from her, and that's enough answer.

"It's a good thing you have me, then," she says decisively. "I will always forgive you."

"Don't say that."

"Oh, I'm not saying I will ever let you get off with pulling any of the crap you did before," she amends, "And this time I have no compunction about knocking some sense into you – literally, if I have to." She offers him a brief smile, and though he doesn't return it, his eyes glint. "But I'm saying...after the literal sense-knocking, I would forgive you. I don't think I couldn't."

"Sakura..."

"And, if it ever happens again...that I have to wait, I mean...I will," she tells him. "I guess that kind of thing carried over. I think she'd wait an eternity for him...and I know I would. For you."

Sasuke's face does that thing, where he's tries not to look upset when she says something he thinks is unwise. "You're being ridiculous."

"I mean it," she repeats. "I would."

"Sakura..."

"If you hadn't – if Naruto hadn't helped you overcome the curse, I would have waited forever," she insists unabashedly. "I'm not saying I would sit there wasting away, like she does in my dreams. I would have lived my life to the fullest I possibly could – but I wouldn't be able to give my heart to anyone else. I would have died loving you and waiting to see you again in the next life." She allows a bitter laugh. "I knew that even before I knew about reincarnation or past lives or Shachi were even real. I knew it the day you left Konoha the first time."

Sasuke shakes his head at this, uncomprehending. "We were children."

"Why do you think it was so terrifying?" she asks. "I just...I could never say anything about it out loud. I mean, not beyond the things I did say. That I wanted to get you back. That I wanted to make sure you were happy. But if people knew the exact way I felt..."

She self-consciously rubs her stomach.

"People would think – people already thought I was insane for loving you," she whispers. "Especially after all that time. Sometimes I thought I was crazy myself, but I think I understand now. I wasn't crazy. I was just...falling into old habits. Really old habits."

Sasuke is silent, thoughtful.

A part of her is very curious about his thoughts on the subject; another, childish part of her wants him to declare a similar reciprocal devotion to her. The other part knows that he needs time. He has difficulty processing strong emotions on his best day, but added to his reticence since she started unintentionally channelling Shachi?

Better not to push him on it just yet...

Instead, decides to make light for now.

"In any case, I want to take my victories where I can. Especially since there's still so much that we don't know," she says, leaning into him. He moves his arm, allowing her to slip under it, and although the action is sluggish, as if he isn't really paying attention, it's devoid of any tension. "And, I mean, I think I'm working through my past life issues in a pretty healthy manner. Don't you?"

"Hm."

"Oh, come on, admit it. I could be doing a lot worse. I haven't even had to rip anyone's arm off."

"Yet."

"... Yet."

つづく

_____

Well, that took me longer than expected. Stupid work and adult responsibilities getting in the way... Sigh. Is there any point in suggesting the next chapter will be the last? I mean, it's mostly written now and should be complete, but I seem to have a strong case of "one more chapter itus" with this fic...

Ah, well. Enjoy.

Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome!

クリ