Sakura-is-a-civilian-and-Sasuke-is-a-war-criminal-after-the-4th-shinobi-warAU!

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Being branded a traitor is something Sasuke would not wish upon his worst enemy. The actions that make him so are not what trouble him, but rather the reaction it elicits. Stares follow him no matter what corner of the earth he travels to. They are almost hungry in a way; the same way a starved bitch eyes her own pups as a last resort.

Sasuke was their scapegoat when the war ended. It was not solely his responsibility to carry this weight, but he did so anyway. Like Itachi, he had reasoned. His brother had been burdened with these stares and much, much more, yet he withstood it for the sake of a unified world. Itachi was many things, but to Sasuke he is most honorable. With great responsibility comes great power, or a need for great power in order to endure these responsibilities. Sasuke simply lacks this integrity. He is not Itachi.

Itachi is dead because of him. It was Sasuke's prized blade, his kusanagi that pierced his brother's heart. Sasuke cannot find it in himself to forget the blood that stains his hands, cannot find it in himself to be the man his brother wanted him to be. He is a traitor not only to his home, to Konoha, but to his kin.

Sasuke deserves these stares and much, much more.

He has sworn never to return to Konoha. Sasuke cannot find it in himself to destroy what his brother lived to protect, but he also cannot stay in a place where the Elders orchestrated the tragic familicide that befell the Uchiha. Instead, Sasuke wanders. He leaves behind the lush greenery associated with Fire country, and mindlessly drifts elsewhere. At night, he strays from the dirt road, and sleeps in a tree. Sometimes when he is excessively nostalgic, Sasuke sleeps in a clearing. He looks up at the stars and reminisces pulling out his futon onto the engawa with Itachi and trying to count the infinite numbers. Sasuke is lonely, and more importantly, hurt, but this is something he can bear because his brother endured so much more.

Sasuke is wasting away, but does nothing to halt the thundering hooves that signal his end. He wanders without regard to his health, and does not stop to hunt for food. Before he knows it, Sasuke is in the outskirts of Iwa. It is surprising he has made it this far. His stomach gurgles, and the pain hits. Sasuke had paused to pick out a rock in one sandal when he doubled over and heaved. Bile splattered across the side of the path. Sasuke's knees gave out, and he closed his eyes in resignation. Even when he was dying, he took the coward's way out.

But even as a traitor, Sasuke didn't want to die a miserable death, being watched by the scornful public. He just wants a peaceful passing.

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There is a ringing in his ears he cannot get rid of. Slowly, Sasuke opens his eyes. Everything hits him at once, the scrapes and cuts on his face and palms sting, the light seems too brilliant for his eyes, and his mouth... Sasuke shifts his tongue in his mouth. It is like sandpaper. Dry and rough.

He is alive. Sasuke the traitor and war criminal cannot even die successfully.

Once his eyes adjust, he takes in as much as possible without craning his neck. His view is mostly occupied with the ceiling. From his obscured field of vision, the room Sasuke is staying in is sparsely decorated. The only other thing that fills up some of the emptiness is the thin mattress he lies on. It is itchy, and pokes his back. Most likely a bed of straw with a thin cover over it. Sasuke breathes through his nose and slumps his head back on the mattress.

The shōji slides open, and Sasuke tenses. He had to come to a decision within the next split second. Would he pretend he was still sleeping? It seemed childish, but he didn't know who he was dealing with. Perhaps he would simply shunshin away? No, he didn't have enough chakra.

The door hit the frame with a quiet thud. Sasuke quickly closes his eyes and relaxes his body. A small figure, based on the footsteps, (perhaps a woman?) pads in on the tatami mats, stopping next to him. To his surprise, a hand makes its way to his forehead. The woman, he now knows, for her hands her little and soft, makes a satisfactory hum, pulling away. Sasuke levels his breathing. His chest constricts as the hands touch him again, moving him gently so he can sit up. Any self-preserving shinobi would have snapped the assailant's neck by now, but from what Sasuke can tell, there is no powerful chakra emanating from his caretaker.

It isn't hard to imitate weakness as he pretends to semi-lucidly sit up against the wall. Sasuke groans. His body is sore from exhaustion. The ringing in his ears make a brief return before quieting once more. The gentle hands push away his sweaty bangs before wiping at his forehead with a cool rag. Sasuke finds himself leaning against the wall even harder now, struggling to fight the desire to fall back asleep. His eyelids flutter with concentration. As the hands retreat once more, Sasuke's internal battle is fought and lost. He groans again, shifts, then opens his eyes slowly. Sasuke stares.

Pink. Her hair is the same shade as the cherry blossoms in the Uchiha compound, and her eyes reminiscent of the green meadows he once frolicked in. The woman's lips are pursed as she looks him in the eye. One hand rests on his back, the other on his arm. "How do you feel?" she queries after a short moment. When Sasuke stays silent, the woman turns and dips the rag in a bucket she's brought with her, wringing it free of any excess water. She folds it neatly into a small rectangle and tilts his head back before placing it on his forehead. "You have a slight fever," she informs him, brushing away a rebellious piece of hair. "But compared to before, it is an improvement."

Sasuke stares some more. It had been a while since he had last come face to face with another human being. He probably smells like sweat and all the grime he has collected over the weeks he spent traveling. He absentmindedly pities the woman. Sasuke nods slightly. "How did you find me?" he rasps, prompting her to turn away once more and bring a cup of water to his lips. Sasuke nearly growls when the woman limited the amount he drank. ("You'll get sick if you drink too much," she reminds him, and it sinks into Sasuke that this is the first time in years that he has been taken care of. His throat tightens. His mother had been the last.)

The woman smiles. "I wasn't the one who found you. My father did. He said you were on the side of the road, lying in a puddle of your own bile." Her grin turns sympathetic. "I convinced him to bathe you," she admits, taking his look of surprise for perhaps angered befuddlement. The woman gently pushes a folded pile of clothing into his arms. "Your clothing you were wearing before was torn up in some places. I tried to mend it, but I must confess it isn't my best skill. You're wearing my father's clothing when he was younger. They're too large for him now."

"Aa," Sasuke replies, taking in all the new information. He fingers the edge of his robe. It feels different compared to his own. Perhaps rougher. He inclines his head. "Thank you..." he trails off, uncertain.

The woman beams. "Sakura," she supplies. She sticks her hand out in a western-styled motion, wiggling her fingers enticingly.

Sasuke shakes his head minutely, amused, and lifts a hand to shake it. "Sasuke," he replies stiffly. Was his name well-known, now? Did it evoke fear in the hearts of men? Would she shake and cower or coldly order him to leave?

But if Sakura recognizes him, she makes no indication of having so. She merely bows her head and wordlessly tends to his wounds before leaving him alone once again.

Sasuke unfolds his clothing, tracing his finger along the stitching. Sakura hadn't done a half-bad job. As he inspects more, Sasuke amusedly notes that the technique used on his shirt made it look more like a patient on a gurney. He turns over his shirt. The uchiwa fan stands proud.

Sakura lives with just her father, Sasuke comes to learn. Her mother had died during the war when she had been just barely peaking adolescence. A rogue-nin had slaughtered her in cold blood before stealing the food from their kitchen. Her father is an honest man named Kizashi, who had been a carpenter until his shop in the urban area was burnt down during another attack. They had moved out near the mountains shortly after. It was dangerous to be secluded from others, but their house was built by a mountain pass often known as being too dangerous to cross, and so shinobi avoided it altogether for the most part.

Days pass, and Sasuke finds himself noticing more and more things: the workmanship in the wooden house itself, the notches in the doorway that signify Sakura's rapid growth as a child, the comfort he finds in dinners with her and her father. Sasuke had been lonely, denying himself any contact with old friends from Konoha, cutting away bonds. He had told himself that he was not worthy of being happy, that he was allowing Itachi's death to be in vain. Something inside him screams that it is only a matter of time until his past (you are a goddamned traitor) catches up with him again, but as Sakura doubles over with laughter and Kizashi lets out a chuckle, Sasuke cannot quell the smirk bubbling up to his cool surface.

Weeks pass, and Sasuke begins doing the strenuous work Kizashi had typically done. He chops up firewood (it isn't as humid and muggy as it is in Konoha, and for that Sasuke is thankful) and tills the farming land. As spring came, so had the annual tradition of replacing the thatched roof to their home. Sasuke climbs onto the roof, begins removing the straw, and throwing it in a pile down below, where Sakura and Kizashi sort out the hay that can be used for another year and what they would have to throw out. Afterwards, all three collect new straw and tie them into bundles, where they will replace the straw Sasuke has removed. Sakura tells him that they do this every year before the spring so that when it rains and snows, the new roofing can withstand the weather.

She teaches him many things he hadn't known before. Sakura is a source of bountiful facts that seemed endless. She is smart and intelligent, and more than once he has caught her reading medical texts. "You can read?" he had asked, genuinely surprised, for most people of her status were more focused on surviving than having free time. Sakura had only nodded shyly and patted the flooring of the engawa next to her, to which he sat down. "My mother taught me." After a short pause, she continues. "And I want to be a medic-nin," she declared, smoothing out the scroll in her lap. "I want to help people." Sakura had turned to him, eagerness shining in her eyes. Sasuke had nodded, and made an off-handed comment on how she would be suited, if anyone were to become a medic-nin. Her green eyes had brightened and glowed that night on the engawa, and as she went on a tangent about some technique she had read about that Sasuke couldn't even begin to understand, he had smiled.

Kizashi teaches Sasuke how to know when it is going to rain, or when you should work outside. The early morning or late afternoon were when the unforgiving heat had cooled, and so that was when you would want to water the fields or go outside to collect water from the small river than ran through the mountain pass. Kizashi is loud and boisterous, and he claps Sasuke's back at least once a day. His hair is a curious shade of dusty rose, almost as if Suna's sand had mixed with Sakura's cherry blossom. He makes bad jokes at every meal, and tells embarrassing stories about his daughter as a child. He is everything Sasuke had wanted for a father, and it doesn't hurt to admit it, surprisingly.

Times continues to pass him by. Months pass, and spring transitions to summer. The bite in the coolness of Iwa's air becomes more feral as summer shifts to autumn. Sasuke wears Kizashi's old, worn-out clothes, and Sakura even stitches the little uchiwa fan to the back of every shirt he possesses. Sometimes Sasuke finds himself fondly tracing the stitching when he has a moment to himself. There aren't many times like that this time of year, however. It is harvesting season, and so Sasuke and Kizashi go out and reap the fruit of their labor, while Sakura dries and pickles as much of the food as she can. Winter was terrible in Iwa, he had been told, and it was best to stay indoors when you could.

Sasuke maintains his physique as a shinobi, pushing through laborious workouts in addition to working the field and chopping wood. He sometimes runs through his kata with his sheathed katana, but he rarely ever uses his actual blade. Sasuke meditates on the engawa each night to maintain his chakra levels while Sakura studiously pores over her medical texts. When she finally approaches him about chakra control, Sasuke hesitantly begins teaching her to cultivate chakra. Sakura is almost a natural at it, and it was then that all of Sasuke's doubts in her dissipated. Most civilians aren't able to tap into their chakra reserves, but it seemed Sakura was more in tune with her body than usual cases.

On top of chakra control, Sasuke also begins teaching Sakura basic self-defense. Her body, at first, is slow and untrained, but by the time autumn fluxes to winter, Sakura is about as well-trained as an experienced genin. Sasuke had rid himself of any kunai or shuriken, and so he settles for Sakura learning basic kenjutsu. He drills her though kata he had learned back in the Academy, and through watching her progress, lives through his own childhood once more. Sasuke enjoys seeing Sakura's glittery eyes as she executes moves perfectly, as she successfully heals a deer. Sakura is a good student, always persevering, always quick to get back up after falling.

Falling. Sasuke finds himself falling for her. She is brilliant, really, from her looks to her intellect to her dry sense of humor. He wishes he could have met her mother, because he recognizes some bits of Kizashi in Sakura, and would have liked to have been able to meet the woman that raised the daughter he loves.

On one particular night, Sasuke finds himself reliving his clan's termination, revisiting when he killed his only brother. So when he drags himself to the engawa and finds Sakura already there, he is surprised. She is encased in thick blankets when she turns and sees him. Sakura only smiles gently and lifts a flap of blanket to him, which he accepts. The two of them huddle, watching the snow fall from the engawa, before Sasuke finds himself speaking. "I'm wanted in nearly every land," he tells her. Because despite it being so long since he killed Itachi, he finds himself still as disgusted with himself as before. He wants Sakura to see the man that he truly is. But when she only traces his jaw gently, her eyes bright with unshed tears, her lips pulled into a tight smile, Sasuke realizes she has already known for quite some time. He gathers her in his arms and they continue to watch the snow fall. Then, Sakura turns and faces him, his arms wrapped around her waist, and she kisses him for the first time. Slowly, she moves down to his neck, and Sakura grips his shoulders as his hands tighten around her. She pulls away, and the two pant quietly, eyes locked and searching for something.

They both find what they are looking for.

Sasuke leans forward again, and kisses her once more before grabbing her hips. Sakura wraps her legs around his waist and loops her arms behind his neck one more before he carries her and the blanket back to his futon, where they join for the first time. Sakura snuggles on his chest afterwards, pressing one last kiss to his cheek before settling down. Sasuke lies on the futon, arm wrapped around her securely, as he watches her fall asleep. He hesitates, then plants his own lips on the top of her head, his body and heart both warm.

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Sasuke is glad he is not Itachi, because his honorable brother is dead and will continue to be. This is something that took Sasuke long to realize, to discover that the life he leads now is what Itachi had wanted for him all along. This makes it much easier to not be consumed with raging thoughts and regrets, and it makes Sasuke so very thankful to Itachi.

And even more so, Sasuke is thankful for being branded a traitor. Without his exile, he would have never met Sakura or Kizashi. Sakura's stare is much different than others'. Where others are filled with scorn, hers are filled with unconditional love for him. He loves her for this and for much, much more. He realizes that if he had stayed in Konoha, Sasuke would never have experienced the whispering sands of Suna, or the cool mountain pass of Iwa. If he had stayed in Konoha, he would have only known the wooded greenery as his definition of green. This doesn't mean Sasuke does not miss bright blue eyes and laid-back senseis, but when Sasuke looks into the green of Sakura's eyes —his wife's beautiful eyes— he realizes that wherever this green may go, that is his home.

[A/N]: I wrote this at one in the morning and I was feeling super inspired so ig I've gotta publish. I was pretty close to writing some steamy (*@o@*) stuff but decided not to lol.