Chapter 14: It's Cool to be Lonely

"And far away a mountain zone,

A cold, white waste of snow-drifts lies,

And one star, large and soft and lone,

Silently lights the unclouded skies."

-Charlotte Brontë

The cool evening stepped in, as if it were curiously standing by his open window to peer in and see if it was a safe place. There was a static buzz within it as well, perhaps a thunderstorm was on the way or there was simply some lingering heat from the warm afternoon, and he felt a keen voltage across his skin, making his hair stand up to protect him from the unknown, possibly hostile sensation. He rubbed his arms. The broad-leafed trees clipped the sky with their healthy green brushes and whistled their rustled song throughout the area as gratitude for the dwindling sun's present of a gorgeous, orange-kissed halo stripped across the horizon. Some high wisps of clouds cut above the crest in the west, overlapping each other crudely as if some god's fingers had scratched the sky as proof they lived on.

But Shikamaru didn't like it, no matter how beautiful. The view he saw outside made him uneasy. He'd probably have kept ruminating there by his window if it wasn't for his guest's return.

"Anything wrong?" Gaara asked as he stepped back into Shikamaru's living room.

Shikamaru gave a half-smile as he turned from the window, his hands tightly clinging to his arms. "Just a little cold."

Gaara stood in place and considered something blankly, his eyes losing a bit of their focus. "Maybe a thunderstorm as well." His eyes came back with their usual luster and regarded his friend. "Would you like a blanket? You keep them in the closet over here, yes?"

Shikamaru nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

Gaara grabbed a blanket from a shelf in the living room closet and brought it to Shikamaru as he closed the window but kept the drapes apart. He accepted the blanket gratefully. "You know your way around my home more than I had imagined," he mused.

Gaara laughed. "Yes, well, between you and Naruto's house, I'd say I haven't spent much time elsewhere to think."

"And I'm assuming there's been much time to do so?"

"No," said Gaara bluntly, "not nearly enough, I'm afraid. I've been thinking a lot, but I don't believe I could make sense of everything even if I possessed an eternity."

Shikamaru nodded and peered outside the window, the orange glow almost gone completely now. "I'm still not sure what to do myself―there's far too many loose ends."

"I don't suppose you have any ideas for tomorrow?" asked Gaara. Naruto had briefed the two of them on Sasuke's findings a couple days ago, but he gave a warning not to be too decisive on anything until they brought it before the other Kage. They were all to council by midday tomorrow, once Kurotsuchi returned from her mission, and the whole meeting was meant to brief everyone and address the problem that Kabuto presented. Frankly, neither Shikamaru nor Gaara were looking forward to it.

Shikamaru sighed and clutched the blanket around his shoulders. He wasn't even cold. "None that could help," he admitted.

"I'm worried about what this might do to the village. Many matters are already in a process where we can't halt much without it devouring our resources needlessly. We're honestly quite vulnerable right now." Gaara's eyes narrowed as he sat in a chair next to Shikamaru. "If we're not careful, Kabuto could attack us at any moment."

"It's unlikely he'll do anything yet." Shikamaru wasn't completely sure about that, but he knew Kabuto's style of warfare a bit because of their encounters during the last war. So did Gaara, of course, but that didn't mean they shared the same strategic methods of engagement. "If he was going to do something during the process, I think we'd know by now. I think he's waiting for the village to be completed."

Gaara gave him a curious look. "Really? Doesn't that sound counterproductive for him? We'd be prepared for him by that point, making any attack of his futile."

Shikamaru shook his head, still gazing at the freshly-grown night sky. "No, I can't help but feel like he wants that. He wants us to be prepared, so our defeat will be that much more satisfying to him."

Gaara seemed to think about that for a moment. After a pause, he added: "Something like that almost sounds...petty."

Shikamaru showed a humorless smile. "Wouldn't put it past a man responsible for mass murder."

"With that logic, we should assume he's highly unpredictable; therefore, we should anticipate all possible moves he may make."

Shikamaru glanced at him, his eyes weary, unprepared. "You're probably right. Still, it's a strong intuition."

There was more to it than just his instinct, Shikamaru thought as he saw Gaara look at him with slight concern. He knew Kabuto would wait, at least for a while still. The thrill of crushing all their work was only a small part of it. Kabuto wanted the doubt to grow, the dread that what they were placing their hope in was going to fail tremendously. There were so many holes in their entire project, so many faces of civilians and shinobi alike who were slowly unraveling. He saw it every day when he was out working on the preparations: the creeping insanity in their eyes, the fear they were going to die having accomplished nothing.

And truthfully, Shikamaru was questioning the notion of the village more and more. Were they really going to go back to the same system they had before the outbreak? Was that really being progressive? They had been given a chance to change things, to build a different world where people could expect something better than the usual protection provided by loose politics and corrupt individuals. Naruto had almost squandered the corruption and needless fighting by being active across all the Nations, but what would happen after he passed? Naruto and the other Kage weren't going to live forever and neither would any system they put in place. Bringing humans together like they were doing was going to allow room for more mistakes because as Shikamaru was so acutely aware of―they were all flawed...and their flaws were growing. But he wouldn't tell Gaara any of this. He didn't even tell Ino about all of it, but it was there, and he was terrified of what it would lead to.

"After the meeting," said Gaara, pulling Shikamaru from his thoughts, "I'm going to go to the site of the village. I'll be bringing the builders and architects with me, so we can begin the foundation." Gaara smiled softly at his friend. "I'd like you to come with me."

Shikamaru, surprised by the sudden warmth, blinked and shook off his blanket. "I...I appreciate that offer, but I should probably stay with Naruto for now. He's going to need me here. Plus, someone needs to coordinate with the supply line you'll be requiring very soon."

Gaara's smile widened, and Shikamaru almost felt like he saw his friend peering into him, viewing all his dark thoughts. "That's fine, but I hope you'll join me eventually. Honestly, I think I need you, too."

Shikamaru wasn't expecting such kind candor, but he felt his doubt vanish at hearing it. He was certain it would return, probably after Gaara left, but for now it was enough. And the night looked pristine as well, no longer making him feel uneasy. Although, that wasn't permanent either.

Samui leaned against the balcony overlooking the village from the second story of Naruto's house. She had been up there alone for what seemed like hours, and she was not sure if she wanted to be anywhere else. She was both angry and sad. There wasn't a specific reason why she felt this way, having not experienced an unfortunate event ever since she took on the position of being the Hokage's assistant, but her misgivings were particularly strong right now. Of course, this was not new to her, and she was sure everybody had moments of unfounded emotion from time to time. Still, she wanted to pity herself tonight.

When she was far younger, mostly in her teens, these bouts of sadness had been far more common, and they had made Samui's parents worry to the point where her dreams of being a formidable shinobi were heavily challenged. They had warned it would hinder her training and she wouldn't be able to be jōnin with that emotional burden weighing her down. She had proved them wrong, in the end, or at least made them think so. In truth, she hadn't conquered it―not all of it. If anyone had a notion about her problem, Atsui might have posed it, but he never voiced any concern. Maybe he did in his own way, she thought unhappily―his quiet moments of assurance while she bled into her work and the solid smiles he displayed when she achieved higher praises than he did. In some ways, he might have mitigated the numbness within her. But that was a long time ago and now she was alone.

Samui didn't necessarily mind being alone. She had come to appreciate it over the greater part of her life and had noticed how much she was able to discern even the most complex of enigmas in her mind, like unlacing a tight knot that loosened once a specific thread was pulled. Naturally, there were times she wanted to forget about the loneliness, wrapping herself in the few men of her past fully knowing there wasn't anything she could give or take from them. When she gazed into their eyes, she saw nothing. So, she returned to the emptiness―it was where she would be even if she allowed them to stay. It wasn't so bad; it actually felt safe, as if she weren't being tested or judged for something beyond her.

She occasionally missed her little apartment back in Kumo, back where she could disappear in the clouds. And yet, that yearning was diminishing as of late. The inviting aura of the familiar had dimmed for some reason as it gently sparked into a clear portrayal of insight: it wasn't so tempting anymore. If she were to go back home, then she probably wouldn't feel as safe as she used to. She had witnessed a brighter edge, one that tore into her nicely-stitched fabric of comfort. Loneliness wasn't comfortable. She realized with cold understanding it never had been. Alone in her apartment, she had grown accustomed to the dull sensations of sleeping in a mischievous dream, a dream that held one captive.

She relaxed into the railing and watched the expanding night fall beyond the balcony as it spread in all directions. The haze of lights weaved through the tall black buildings of the village like quilted silk and made the mountains in the distance shimmer in the top layer. Those far mountains were only visible because they were a darker shade than the purple sheet above where the stars stretched, their prongs reaching out for a hold, for companionship.

Samui had once told Naruto that she felt like a stranger to herself, and that was partially true. She was changing, a result of the times but also of the decisions she had been making since coming to Konoha. Each time she had said or did something unusual, she felt more and more unlike her old self, somehow shedding off a dry skin she thought had been fresher than that. It scared her a little. Was she the same person? Such a question of identity was more reserved for stressed juveniles, not a woman of her age but here she was―pondering the details of her shifting mind, yet there was still a part of her she recognized. She knew the woman who avoided the truth, that was something she had always been quite adept at.

Samui didn't want to be alone. No one did, not really. Humans lied to their better interests by acting as if their more current options were limited and the most ideal, but they could be made better and carved into more pronounced forms. For Samui, they were better, especially since she started living in the house. There was hope in these walls and she couldn't bear the thought of leaving them. And she had a pretty good idea why that was.

Suddenly, she heard the door to the balcony open behind her. She turned her head and saw him approach to meet her on the railing. "Naruto?" His name slipped out from her lips naturally. She liked the way it sounded.

He had a peaceful smile as he looked at the view around them. "Wow, it's a nice night," he remarked softly.

"Yeah, it is," Samui agreed, her own smile taking form. She wanted to forget about emptiness when he was near, reminding her again of the changing opinions on how she had lived her life up to that point. "The nights in Konoha have all been nice."

"It's a great village, huh?" He was still looking upon the open world. His face became more pensive and he took a deep breath. "There's a lot of great things about this place."

"You're gonna miss it, won't you?" she asked.

"I think I might when we finally leave, but a village is just the people in it, and they'll all be coming with."

"It's still your home, though. It won't be an easy transition."

"Was it easy for you?" Naruto's eyes locked upon her now. She thought they were so dazzling, the way they seemed to admire her.

"No," she replied, "it was very difficult." She stared at the far mountains again. They didn't have to move, she thought. They were allowed to always be home, forever stationary in a world that was constantly moving. "But you made it a little less hard, you know. I managed to like it here because of you and everyone's kindness."

Naruto grinned. "That's good to hear. I hope the same thing will happen again after we're finished with the new village."

"I'm sure it will." There was a pause after that between them. They both felt the slight breeze hasten and gently brush past their faces. "Naruto," she added after the pause persisted for too long, "what do you think about loneliness?"

His features seemed a little sad as he thought about it. Her eyes watched him carefully. "I guess we're supposed to all feel it. I've never really liked it, though. If I'm alone for too long, I think of things I shouldn't."

"What things?" she asked quickly, so fast she was surprised she said it.

"Things I regret: people I've hurt, mistakes I've made."

"I think that's pretty normal."

He looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Does that mean you do the same thing?"

Startled, she recoiled slightly at the question. She wasn't prepared for the intense stare he was now giving her. "Yes, all the time."

Naruto nodded, as if in agreement. "Well, I guess we should do something about it." He reached his hand out to her. She eyed it cautiously and looked at him. "Let's make a deal: if either of us starts thinking about those things, then we'll find and talk to each other until they're gone."

Samui wondered if the wind had picked up again because she had a feeling within her, not unlike a shiver but less unpleasant, and it flowed throughout her body. She grabbed his hand and realized it wasn't a handshake; they were holding one another. "OK," she whispered.

A cloud from behind them moved, revealing the gibbous moon―an incomplete spotlight for their little stage on the balcony. Naruto's smile, illuminated in silver light, shined. Loneliness wasn't an evil presence, she knew, but it did leave a person vulnerable to their lesser motives, but maybe with a good person around, it could make someone remember why they were breathing the world in. With Naruto, she could breathe. The haze of lights mingled together around them, adding another layer to the quilt of the night, and a translucent sea of fog rushed by their heads. They were the only two people on that balcony, in that world, and they were joined with the stretching stars holding on tightly.

Sakura had been anxious when she asked Kakashi where Sasuke was staying in Konoha. She wasn't surprised to hear he had selected a lonely inn near the outskirts of the village, one of the buildings closest to where the demolished Uchiha compound was. Thankfully, Kakashi didn't seem to press the issue after he answered her. She knew he was inclined to still look after his old students, but he tended to also let some things pass. So, after taking a short walk to the far side of the village, Sakura found herself in another world.

It had been many years since Sakura had been to that side of the village. Many of the ruins of the old compound were still present, half-poking out from the mossy undergrowth like bony carcasses from a forgotten time. She passed under what was once a painted arch with the Uchiha symbol emblazoned upon it: it was now broken and overturned, the faded fan pointing to the ground where its grave was slowly, gently pulling it down. She stopped for a moment, wondering how long it would take for it to sink completely―for it to disappear.

Somewhere, in the dusk of the evening, a lone bird called solemnly. She turned her head to the trees on the far side of the clearing by the ruins. There was nothing there but the wind dodging through trunks of the wood, and she almost thought about running away into it, escaping from her world and pretending like she didn't have to deal with her fate. Speaking to him was going to be incredibly painful―it always was, but she had to respect her feelings enough to confront them. She wasn't a teenager anymore; she could step up to herself and boldly pronounce how far she had come: or she could run away.

In the end, she reached the inn.

It was barely a house, let alone an inn, with a mere three guest-rooms under a patched roof that hadn't been repaired in decades. There was one small light flickering from the middle room's window, and she assumed he was in that one. She knocked on it with no hesitation, not caring if she had the wrong room to begin with.

Her assumption was correct, and Sasuke answered after one knock. He was wearing what she thought to be his version of nightwear: loose pants, a jerkin, and a black shawl draped over it. "Sakura," he said. His version of a greeting.

No questions at all, she realized nervously. There was no joy in seeing her, no remembrance, no warmth, just only indifference. "Hello, Sasuke." She shuffled her feet and fought the temptation to look down at them. She knew he'd see that as weakness when addressing him. "I hope I'm not bothering your evening, but may I come in?"

Sasuke said nothing and stepped aside to allow her entry, not reassuring her worries of infringing his solitude. Sakura moved into the little room and noticed the single bed and a tiny bathroom in the corner. She wondered if it even had room for a shower.

Sakura, standing in the empty space of the room, turned to him. "How is it being back home?" she said with a smile that didn't feel as bright as she hoped it looked.

His face was stone as he closed the door and wandered to the opposite end of the room. "It's necessary to be here for now. I'll leave when everything is settled."

"To the unified village?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, for a little while. I plan to help with the move."

"Is that all you plan to do?"

His face was unchanging as he looked at her, a gaze that urged her to cower. "No, but I won't speak about any more of that to you."

She knew this was off to a terrible start, but she didn't really know why her expectations had been based around anything else. "Because I was thinking you could come with me there."

"Is that why you're here?" he asked simply. There was no agitation in his voice, but she knew it was brimming deep in his eyes. There had always been much emotion in them, much anguish and fury over the years; yet now there was a relatively calm presence there. She hoped that didn't change in the next few minutes.

"Sort of," she answered quietly, "there's more to it than that, but I'm not sure how to word it."

"Could you get on with it?" Again, no irritation or impatience was evident, but she knew she couldn't hide anymore.

"I...just...would like to tell you...that I want you to be with me." It felt stupid hearing it from her mouth, but it was the truth.

Sasuke didn't seem to react. "As in, you want me to stay?"

"Yes." Her heart thundered in her ribcage, and she was positive it was going to burst out so she would die a terrible, bloody death right there on the dirty floor of the inn only for him to still be staring intensely at the gory mess she left behind; but she was still alive, and she had to present everything she could...one more time. If she didn't now, she would always regret her inability to be forthright. It was right there―begging for her courage, for her to admit she wasn't capable of anything more than what she could do or say. She had to release all of it, or it would fade away into the ground forever.

"I―Because I love you."

For one insanely long second, she thought he might actually smile. As his lips split a fraction, she saw them morph into a grin and exclaim how proud he was she admitted it, that he was finally ready to be with her until their mortality ended all their love, all their hope; yet Sasuke didn't smile. She only saw a solid rush of that boiling agitation come spilling up to the front of his gaze.

"Of course that's why you're here," he replied, a stout scowl furrowing across his brow. "I figured as much."

"Sasuke, I...please listen…" she started. Her words were failing as she began to see the direction― not for the first time―they were going.

"Don't press your desires on me. I can do nothing with them."

She shook her head and covered her mouth with both hands, as if she were desperately praying. "I'm not trying to be irrational. I need you to know!"

"Know that you care for me? I know―the whole village knows." He paused, only for a moment. "You're a capable shinobi, that's as far of a compliment I can give."

"I don't want compliments!" she cried. "I want―"

"My affection?" he asked, becoming increasingly annoyed. His scowl deepened. "There's nothing to say."

Sakura stared at the ground, not caring anymore if he thought she was weak for doing so. She wished she had run into the woods earlier―the pressing pain of his words was too much. The worst part was that she had anticipated them before, and there was so much truth in them. He had never felt the same way she did, but she couldn't help but cling to the possibility. Maybe it was her insecurity—maybe it was her inability—yet she couldn't let go. He was honest; although his honesty felt cruel.

"I'm selfish, OK," she confessed. "I can't stand being alone anymore."

Sasuke's eyes seemed to move to the corner of the room and they stayed there. "Independence should be cultivated—appreciated. It's not so bad to be alone. Learn to live with yourself. You may find it enjoyable."

Sakura shook her head. "You really don't know how to talk to women, do you?"

Sasuke frowned again. "I have no wish to. I don't know why you're still here. Leave."

She didn't want to be angry, but he was being so dismissive. She needed encouragement, some kind of actual human decency if she was going to accept anything at all. "You're just as selfish as I am, you know. You won't allow yourself to be loved."

He turned his back to her. "I'm done talking," he returned blankly.

"You can't keep expecting people to just figure everything out themselves!" she yelled. "I've struggled with my feelings for you, and I need you to at least acknowledge them. I don't just mean for you to know they're there, I need you to see them, to accept that someone could love you and want to be with you. You're so lonely and hurt by the world, and you push away people with your blunt remarks and your pretentious attitude. You care, but you don't know how to show it." She couldn't cry in front of him because he would never listen to her if he saw that, but she felt like she was crying, like she was already understanding how pointless this was. "Please, at least give me some relief. Let me mourn the loss of you."

He didn't look back at her, so she couldn't see his face. She imagined he was at least expressing some emotion right now, maybe hearing what she was saying and realizing he had to grow a little too. Even if it was a long time afterwards, she wanted him to sympathize with her words and find some truth in them. Maybe that would help her pain if he listened, if only a little.

"Go away," he said. There was no scorn in his voice, but there was nothing else there either―no emotion at all.

"Fine," she added reluctantly. "I hope you stay around for a while this time―even after the new village is finished. Naruto could use your help." He gave no indication he heard her, fully splitting into the wound he had reopened. "Goodbye, Sasuke."

Sakura shut the door as she left the inn and felt as if she should run. She ended up only walking, but it seemed like she was being pulled along by an invisible thread. She didn't head for the woods because that would mean she wasn't going to learn. She was tired of believing she wasn't worth the effort she kept putting into herself. She was tired of accepting all the pain as if she was unable to move beyond the insipid feelings of her heart. It was time for her to stop soaking in her self-pity and acting like some hurt girl who couldn't color the world with brighter wonders, wonders that promised more than simple wishes in uncontrollable matters.

She stopped in place at the edge of the ruins, her eyes once again falling on the vanishing fan in the mud. She couldn't look away as the earth was steadily devouring it, making it cease to exist from the world and she hated it. She hated how it mocked her. It still held on despite its doom and its knowing that no matter its certain misfortune, it would fight.

Sakura headed for her office; she was going to work harder. She was going to conquer all that she could and demand the world compensated her for the effort. That would be her conquest, her power, and no one could come along and say she didn't try. It wouldn't be enough; she was aware of that. She wouldn't be able to let it all go, and that was just the limit of her potential. Her tears fell on her sandals as night enveloped her. She could comfort herself when she wasn't weeping anymore, and she was surrounded by her work. As she left the ruins and moved deeper into the village, she felt the restraints around her heart loosen; they had been holding her back for far too long.

I know the last scene might be a tad bleak considering it's just after Valentine's Day, but that wasn't intentional, I swear. I do want to announce I'm not trying to bash the SasuSaku pairing. In some of my other stories, I support them, so it's not like it's personal. I'm simply trying something out, something that might make more sense to you with time. Anyways, let me know what you thought. Thank you!