disclaimer: do not own.
note: post-cannon; and indeed, i am getting madder by the plot.

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—enticement:

fragile things
—a tale of a scarborough fair

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"…this is a mess."

Sasuke said while picking up a thick and heavy, half-burned plank and tossed it to the other side of the demolished house; wood crashed hard against long steel frames which were partly covered with soft-looking glass wool that served as insulation cladding for Sakura's house.

He stole a look from his female teammate whose lanky figure was just as much covered in filth as his own taller one. She was always the beautiful one, lovelier than anyone he knew, nevertheless Sasuke felt content then he came to a conclusion that working all day long on building New Konoha was more satisfying for him than facing the reality and figuring out where he stood with his past comrades—

(he had time for that later; he always had time)

—and besides, work brought him purpose. He had a purpose all his life – first to please his clan; then to achieve greatness his brother was incapable of; next to murder the said brother; after series of other minor goals before him he had a bigger one: destroy Konoha; later Sasuke found out that destroying it wasn't much of a problem, after his victory over the Kages no goal was too big, except of rebuilding the life he so thoroughly ruined – and Sasuke couldn't seem to function without one. So he obligated himself to become whatever world wanted him to become and focused all of his energy into constructing the New Konoha.

Thinking of the past or future was, so far, not an option for Sasuke.

"A mess," Sakura murmured, her knees bent and arms burred in a gap between what used to be her kitchen wall and a floor parallel to it, in the space where earth have broken she searched for a piece that she assumed was lost, "is an understatement."

With the corner of her feline green eye she saw Sasuke pick up, as it seems effortlessly, a crocked steel frame as wide as his torso, and throw it away from them towards a growing pile of constructing materials.

"Hey!" she called flexing her body downwards feeling her flat stomach touch her hips, the muscles in the back of her thighs stretched during the motion; suddenly she was glad she didn't wear a skirt today. "Be careful with those things. They weight a ton and I would be thankful if you would stop throwing them casually a hairs' breath away from me."

Sasuke said nothing, only rolled his broad shoulders but the next piece of wood he picked up ended up in a new dumpsite he just created, a bit further than the previous one but he'll appreciate the exercise Sakura figured.

This route continued for another hour. The sun moved a tad closer towards western horizon, Sakura found the scrolls that rolled into a crack in her used-to-be-kitchen and Sasuke cleaned up the landscape efficiently making her neighborhood block seem less haphazard than then arrived here.

Soon enough Sakura let out a heavy sign and with a heel of her hand she whipped off sweat from her forehead, feeling slightly out of breath, "Really. Why did I have so much crap before?"

Sasuke sharply tilted his head at ninety degree angle, his ear-shell touched his shoulder, and a loud snap had echoed in the clearing; during the past few months he developed a habit of cracking his joints, "Because you tend to collect unnecessary stuff. This for instance—" he picked up a hanging clock that was a black and white cat whose eyes would move from side to side at each second and had the clock-face literally in its abdomen part, "—is completely hideous and useless."

She pouted – not looking adorable, Sasuke didn't like adorable nor Sakura was the type to be cute, she is gorgeous and lethal. Like a ninja should be. "That was uncalled for. The cat-clock, thankyouverymuch—" Sakura said as she pulled the broken kitty-cat out of Sasuke's grip, "—was a birthday gift from my relatives. Sure it is not the most fashionable piece of furniture – in fact, it is hideous and clashed completely with the wallpaper in the kitchen – but it is a memory. And memories should be cherished and treasured, and loved, and respected, and memories…memories…—"

Tilting his head at the pretty girl Sasuke arched his eyebrow in a gesture that conveys both ennui and skepticism; he was about to destroy her philosophy about all of the sentimental crap she just pulled – he has memories: horrible, dark, vivid, mind-wrenchingly ghastly memories of a night then a full moon shined and blood run on the wooden floors of his estate; and Sasuke had no thought whatsoever of cherishing or respecting those horrific moments of his life, and he had many of them, too many one would say – but her face held the same expression that dawned on her back then, at the bridge where ice-needles flew in the yellow fog and death occurred leaving a breathing corpse behind.

He recognized it instantly.

Blinking hard Sakura fell silent for a moment, stray locks of hair whirling in the summer breeze, and then she continued, "Memories are there to be remembered. To not be forgotten. And little things like a horrible wall-clock count. Little things have to matter otherwise life would be as generic and predicable as we can expect it – the circle of life that Romantics so heavily pursued in their poems – and if you don't believe in that, then it's fine. Whatever. But I do. And you are not ruining this for me."

Sasuke shut his eyes reluctantly, as usual, he could foresee the future – the occurrences are witnessed and analyzed then, predicted – and this time he knew exactly what words would come out of her mouth.

"You have destroyed enough."

As she said that Sasuke remembered his very first lightning-jutsu. He and Kakashi were on the top of the cliff, on the other side of the Hokage Mountain – the one that didn't face the village – and emotions that Sasuke recalled from that day were pain, uselessness, inability to be who he is not, and that drive that set him to chase after his fickle goal that taunted him every time he stopped to catch a breath. Cold fire sparkled in his palms – blazing, ruthless, electrifying lighting – and the sound of chipping birds followed his hand as he cut through a rock; fingers straight and firm and pulled tight, palm fixated flat – then, pain shot through him again as the blue fire pilled off his skin and covered in brown mud rock temped to break his phalanges.

Still, he charged again—

again—

(he let the pain sink in, like he did in his own web of lies once)

and again—

Sasuke didn't move in for the kill this time – he left her be.

There was certain statuesque stillness about their postures, all things froze and their eyes never met. A shadow fell on them – a cloud covered the sun – and a cry of a flying bird disturbed the rippled, from the heat, air.

"In this world full of lies, even innocent girls die." Sasuke isn't sure he hears his voice talking or his mind thinking, "Because this life is unpredictable. We are born with the knowledge how all for us began and how it shall end but the journey itself is withering. For you, perhaps, life is made of warmth of sunlight on your skin, made of deep dives in a bone-chilling river, made of spices and sugars sold by a vendor; it is not because of something, it is despite all the odds you exist.

"But I walk a different path. I see fireflies on my porch at dusk but they mean nothing, I notice the scars and marks left by training, dialogs during disasters and moments of true heroism, the occurrence of important changes in the hallmarks that make a superb shinobi – my speed, strength, agility – I grow and that is how I define my existence. Those traces on my fingertips are your so-called little moments."

That, he was sure, was the longest speech he ever gave to her. And second most meaningful.

When he stops Sasuke gazes straight at the sun, his eyes turned red. Neither the ultraviolet rays of a star or excellent eyes of his cause any pain – it does hurt; Sasuke knows as a fact that Sharingan can withstand much more than sunshine but the unfamiliarity of his eyes is what unsettles him. These eyes are not his, they are from his clan but not the eyes he was born with, and it is rather…

He couldn't find a word to describe his innate distress. But what he is sure of is that this nervousness if worth the power he achieved. Eternal Light is his but sun does not shine on his path.

(Sasuke is the Sun
just like the blazing star he is destructive and wicked; the hot violet rays burn through skin and melt the bones – with vicious sparks of lighting in his palms he dooms us all)

"Are you going to say something?" Sakura finally looked up, "Sasuke."

So he did say all of that in his head.

Sasuke felt no remorse for a missed out moment, then, a lazy "Che." escapes his mouth like an exhaled goodbye. Goodbyes – he went through many of them; too many.

He turns away from beautiful, beautiful Sakura and arches his back, returning to the reason he was sent to ruins of his birthplace; there is nothing for Sasuke to say.

He lost his voice all too long now.

(he lost a lot of things. Sasuke waits. he waits for the world to make sense again)

"I hope," Sasuke tries is best to ignore her whisper; this is how they listen to the world – by whispering. "—I hope that you understand all the consequences of your actions."

Ah, Sasuke tells himself, but I know all too well.

To him, her mind is a weapon and her fingers are agile, as her whole being is, and her posture graceful. Just like Sasuke she was born to kill. It is their destiny – as child assassins in the world where no one is a child – to be prepared, and daring, and bold, and cautions, and stealthy, and everything beyond the imagination. They were born to impale men, and women, and children into walls – they were never soft; never young; never not ready.

They were never alive and rarely survive to see the end of the game.

"—then again you rarely do, Sasuke."

He wishes for a singular moment that his back wasn't turned, and she wasn't so disappointed, and he wasn't so scared, and she wasn't one of his kind, and he wasn't Sasuke, and that life would have been different, and his brother—his brother…

Sasuke suddenly wishes for a lot of things – I wish—I want—I need—I… – but the moment is gone, and she is grieving, and they are both harsh, and he knows that none of that could ever be because wishing never got the deed done.
He knows that for sure.

Time, Sasuke thought, is very slippery. He always had enough time – never a second too early or too late. But this feels, whatever really "this" is, like it is going to vanish the moment he'll blink. And his mind led him to the most logical conclusion—

He didn't have enough time.

He stays still for a moment. He can ignore his thoughts, continue his work and walk away; a son of his clan as always and she would not dare to be near. Or he can connect, restore and built. He can make something utterly new, something wonderful, something that is out of his world. And—

"Your things," Sasuke said; it was the only neutral topic he could think of – she did ask me to talk? "if you want—back in the New Konoha—If you want, Sakura, you can move your stuff in my place; back at New Konoha—" Sasuke cut off himself—

(perhaps he buried himself in his inner world too deep to notice the changes occurring. and changes are unavoidable. he didn't have enough time, he told himself.)

—his face turned towards setting star; stare away from Sakura who took her time studying his angled features and his new scar, "My apartment is rather…" he stopped in a search of a proper word, "…lacking."

Sakura thinks over his words, licking her teeth with the tip of her tongue in a wary muse. "Was that your lame pick up line?" she asked curiously and he set his jaw nonchalantly; and then he heard a soft,

"I love it."

Right then Sasuke considered saying something lively, with a hint of amusement in his voice, a line that would show a glimpse of personality instead of nonchalant silence—

("Think of it as a gesture of kindness that I lack. Don't get used to it."
and she would have laughed)

—but he didn't.

Instead he says the easiest thing he knows, it's a reflex for him, and it is a voice of an unconscious pride: "Thank you,"—

(it is another sacrifice for him – my choice, always my choice – with a double edge and is equality of destructiveness as the ones before it)

—with Sasuke – Sakura thinks as he is walking away from her – her future is full of unexpected quirks and adventures.

(and unsaid words. curious whispers. harsh decisions. and broken lives)

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

(her own story starts with a Once upon a time—

and it doesn't end)

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IN NEW KONOHA—

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—"…the world is ending. Brace yourself,"
The ground shook.

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ending note: this is sort of the preview – or a prequel, or whatever the kids are calling it these days – to my new starting story, which is something that was never done before in the sasusaku section of Naruto fandom. at least, i think no one ever did that plot before.

intrigued? yeah, you should be. so here's a clue: time travel has nothing on this hot piece of ass.

comments are welcome via reviews.