Uchiha Sasuke had never really liked rain.

And as he stood outside his inn of choice with nothing to shelter him but the hood of his cloak, onyx eyes studying the deserted, muddy streets with a dull intensity, he quickly concluded that he knew exactly why that was.

Sometimes—after a hot summer day, for example—it was refreshing. He had no problem with admitting that. And in battle, thunderstorms created the perfect conditions for his most deadly attack—Kirin.

But when it poured down in sheets for an entire week, one seriously started to wonder just when in the world it was going to end, and the whole process became cold and wet and so damn annoying that it made him want to remain locked up inside his hotel room. Not that it took much for that to happen. Because he was just… tired. Tired of running around aimlessly, chasing shadows of his past, traveling from country to country without a purpose, without a reason, without the drive of ambition and vengeance that had followed him all his life.

He had needed the reprieve, the silence, the time to cool down and think things through. But it was over now, and he had no idea what to do next.

A sudden gust of cold wind blew through the narrow street, sending little droplets of rain underneath the protective cover of his cloak. Sasuke heaved a sigh. He supposed the first thing on the list was getting the hell out of that village before it got flooded.

It took him under a minute to locate the exit, even at the sluggish pace he set for himself. There were two main reasons for which he had chosen that particular village, and those were its small size and its relative stillness. He had needed the rest—both physically and psychologically speaking—and he could now state that it had served its purpose. His mind was clear for what felt like the first time in years. It had taken quite a long while, but things seemed to have finally settled down. He had come to terms with the past… And he could finally look forward to the future.

It was unnerving to realize that the only future he could imagine, he had destroyed a long time ago through harsh words and rash decisions.

But he supposed he deserved that.

He had barely taken two steps outside the village when his keen senses picked up five strong chakra signatures heading his way. They were all spiking dangerously, as though in a fight, but were moving with too much speed for that to be true. The wheels in his head quickly turning—too much on his mind to want to fight unless necessary—Sasuke was about to mask his own chakra signature and hide under the protective cover of a large oak tree, when a small figure stumbled out from the thick bushes in front of him.

He realized it was a woman without needing to see her face. She was dressed all in black—a nondescript pair of tight-fitting pants and a long-sleeved blouse that were both soaked through and clinging to her body. The weapon pouch strapped to her thigh told him she was a kunoichi, something he would have never guessed, were he to judge by her alarmingly low chakra levels.

Because of the darkness of the scenery and the thick sheet of rain that was still falling heavily from the sky, he could hardly make out any of her defining features. She continued to run forwards, looking over her shoulder more often that she should, and remained oblivious to his presence—until she walked straight into him.

Sasuke knew he could have easily avoided her—and he knew he should have done exactly that if he truly wanted to stick to his plan and avoid any fights—but there was something inside of him that had whispered not to. And since ignoring that something had done him very little good—and had basically gotten him to where he was now—he figured he should go with listening to it this time.

The woman gasped in surprise as her small body collided forcefully with another, more muscular one. Strong hands grasped her forearms to stabilize her with a speed and agility that could only be associated with shinobi, and her eyes snapped up to look at the face of her possible enemy.

Her heart pummeled to her stomach as she realized that she recognized those features.

Sasuke's did that same.

She was different. It was obvious that she was no longer a naïve little girl, but a woman—a true kunoichi. Everything proved that—from the look in her eyes, the mixture of surprise and shock failing to conceal the underlying confidence, to the way she held herself, even in a situation where she was clearly outnumbered. Had he been an enemy, he would have been dead by now. There was no doubt about that.

But behind all that… She was still Sakura. And with her pink hair wet, in complete disarray, and clinging to her face in thick strands, with her full, rosy lips parted in shock and awe, and with those brilliant green eyes staring back at him and mirroring his own, he realized that she had never looked more beautiful.

Later, when he found himself fighting side by side with her against the group of rogue shinobi that had been following her, a strong, vaguely familiar feeling washed over him.

Finally. He was home.

The drabbles I plan on posting have no connection whatsoever between them. When—and if—they ever do, I will let you know.

Review, please!