Ghost

Chapter Two

Exactly one month after his life was turned upside down by a creature as large as his forearm, Sasuke returned to the place where the story began: the hospital.

Sitting on the black, leather couch in the corner of the room he had been unceremoniously ushered into, he stared down at his niece, cradled in the nook of his elbow, sucking gently on a pacifier as both of her hands held tightly onto one of his fingers. Her onyx eyes were wide and curious as they moved from his face to her surroundings, studying the room carefully, without understanding much, only to eventually return to holding his gaze.

It was the day of her first check-up, and he would be damned if he had ever felt as apprehensive in his life.

His Sharingan had activated for the first time in the throes of the battle, he'd had no idea how to control it, and there had been no one that he knew of that could possibly help him with that. He was almost too late to the Chunin Exams. He had fought Gaara. He had committed the highest treason a shinobi possibly could, by leaving his village. He had faced Orochimaru and his brother and, ultimately, even Madara—the most powerful member of a bloodthirsty clan.

But Uchiha Sasuke had never even for a second felt nervous; he had felt a million of different emotions, all of which he had tried to hide as best as he could, but nervousness hadn't been one of them.

And yet, there he was, holding his one-month-old niece in his arms and actively making an effort to stop his leg from bouncing up and down.

He wondered if that was because he had never truly wanted something as much as wanted this—as much as he wanted to do a good job at taking care of this baby. What was true, she seemed much healthier now than she had in that incubator so many weeks before. She was somewhat bigger, too, though he doubted anyone could see that unless they looked at her carefully. She ate more and slept more, was cheerful and alert, and Sasuke knew—deep inside his heart—that she was happy, as much as a baby could be; but he had no way of knowing she was healthy, no way of knowing he was reading her right.

Blinking, Mikoto squeaked, and he coaxed her hands to let go of his finger so that he could make sure she wouldn't drop her pacifier. That had happened before, and she had screamed—it hadn't been pretty.

As he was doing that, the door opened, and he snapped his head up to watch as Tsunade strolled in, a white coat covering her usual outfit and a manila envelope held in her right hand.

"Sasuke," she greeted, closing the door behind her. "I was told you were here. I'm sorry I'm late."

The Uchiha grunted in response. He hadn't minded. He was too anxious to wonder whether she was late or he was early and, truth to be told, that was the last on his list of things to worry about in that moment. As long as she told him that Mikoto was alright, she could have arrived the following day, for all he cared.

"What have you got there?" Tsunade asked, nodding towards the bundle in his arms, and he tried to swallow down at least part of his nervousness as he stood up and made his way in her direction.

Mikoto let out another tiny squeak as he handed her over to the blonde Hokage, who immediately cradled her gently in her arms; for a moment, she seemed unsure of whether she should remain silent or start wailing at the sudden transition, but she relaxed once she deemed the warmth of her embrace safe and comfortable.

Tsunade smiled down at her and, out of nowhere, Sasuke was struck with the realization that this was the gentlest stance he had ever seen her in. Granted, he hadn't seen much of her, but he'd seen enough to realize that the Hokage was not a weak, emotional woman. No, she lived up to her name and her title and the temper she seemed to have passed down to her apprentice, if the bumps and bruises Naruto sometimes openly displayed and claimed either of them had inflicted on him were any indication. And yet, her entire demeanor seemed to change when she was around Mikoto—and this was not the first time Sasuke noticed that.

Part of him was sure that was because she was a baby, an innocent creature who couldn't possibly do anything to anger even such a hot-blooded woman. But, another part of him, told him it was because of who she was—because she was Mikoto, and the strange feelings that she awakened inside of him were normal and justified; he wasn't her only victim.

"She's grown," Tsunade observed as she allowed her to latch onto one of her fingers.

"Aa," he answered.

A knock sounded on the door, but the person behind it only used it to announce her presence, immediately turning the knob and pushing her way inside.

"Tsunade-sama," an all too familiar voice called out, causing Sasuke to immediately tilt his head in the direction which it had come from, onyx eyes hardening and jaw clenching tight at the sight that met him.

Sakura, all pink hair pulled in a ponytail and green eyes that were far too bright to be real, had frozen in the doorway, petrified gaze fixed on him; her full lips were slightly parted, her right hand was on the doorknob, and if he wasn't wrong, her breathing had stalled along with her every other brain function.

Terror did that to people—it froze their body and their minds, leaving only their hearts to struggle frantically with trying to maintain them alive. Sasuke was no stranger to that; he'd felt it before, and he still felt it almost every night when he woke up panting in his darkened bedroom. He could recognize it when he saw it.

Sakura was thin, thinner than he remembered, and wore a short, lacy orange dress that brushed her mid-thighs. Her skin was pale, but seemed soft, and although it was obvious that she was tired, she was more lively and alert than the last time he had seen her, rushing into an operating room while he checked out of the hospital, where he had been admitted after a particularly nasty mission.

When her eyes finally moved away from his figure, it was to fall on Tsunade, who stood leaning against her desk, with Mikoto still in her arms. They softened a million times, until Sasuke could easily be fooled into believing that even their own shade had become lighter. Her lips parting, she closed the door behind her and started to take a step forward, but seemed to catch herself in time and instead remained rooted to the spot.

The Uchiha frowned, confused by her strange demeanor. It was as if she wanted to run forward and smother his niece with attention, but something held her back—and he had learned, in the short time he'd had Mikoto, that something had to be very strong in order to be able to keep a woman away from a cute child.

"Can I…?" Her voice was soft, quiet, yet raspy as she spoke, glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes.

Surprised, he spent another moment in silence, trying to figure her out, before he shrugged in response.

Sakura smiled somewhat shakily in gratitude, before the tension seemed to leave her body and she walked over to Tsunade. The blonde had shifted the baby in her arms, holding her so that she was standing upright. The pinkette stopped to leave the folders she had been carrying in her hand on the desk and then turned around, a grin breaking on her face when she came face to face with Mikoto.

"Hi, sweetie," she coed in whisper.

Sasuke could only watch as the baby blinked curiously up at her, still sucking gently on her pacifier as she moved her arms in response to the sound of her voice; Sakura caressed her closed fist, her grin growing even wider when she immediately latched onto it, before bringing it up her lips and pressing a soft kiss to it. "I've been waiting to meet you for so long…"

Mikoto smiled—and Sasuke frowned.

What was her problem? He could understand that she tried to kill him, whatever her reasons had been or if she'd had any at all; he had been betrayed by so many people that it would be positively stupid of him to still be surprised at the fact that Sakura herself had chosen to turn on him at a point in their lives. He would be a liar if he were to say that he didn't feel angry with her whenever he thought back to what she'd done, but the truth was that the situation as a whole was far more complicated than that. He'd tried to kill her, too, if that could be considered a form of vengeance, of tipping the tables so that they were even.

But his life didn't boil down to that moment. Actually, in the grand scheme of things, it was so insignificant it was almost laughable. He had other persons that deserved his hate more—but he was so sick of hating; he was so sick of living in his dark, torturous past. He wanted to heed everybody's advice and look to the future, if only that meant being civil with Sakura and greeting her when she walked by on the street, because it was obvious their relationship would never be even a shadow of what it once was, but how could he possibly do that when she stiffened every time she caught sight of him?

He could live with that, though. He'd lived with far worse situations.

But this? What was this? The pink-haired woman trembled in his presence, avoided him at all costs, never spoke a word to him unless absolutely necessary, and coddled his niece? She'd been waiting to meet her, and yet she hadn't been able to make an effort and knock on his door? She hadn't been able to approach her while she was still in the hospital? She hadn't been able to ask Naruto about her? Because if she had, the blond would have mentioned it to him. There was nothing the loudmouth kept from him when it came to their female teammate, as if he foolishly believed that, if he mentioned her name enough times and filled the air with enough information about her, Sasuke would suddenly come to a stupid realization only his equally stupid mind could come up with.

Why? Why had she not acted upon her obvious wishes? Why had she continued to avoid him if she wanted to see his niece? Surely, Sakura would be smart enough to realize that they were a package deal. Maybe the will to see her had not been strong enough? But, if that was the case, why were there tears in her eyes as she took her from her mentor's arms and into her own?

What was wrong with her? Why did she always have to be so incredibly annoying and make everything so incredibly difficult? If she didn't want to be around him, fine. But she couldn't be around his niece otherwise, and she should know that.

"Sasuke," Tsunade addressed him, pulling him out of his thoughts. "This is going to take a while. Why don't you find Naruto? You two can train while I do her check-up. She'll be safe here and you can come after her in an hour or two."

The Uchiha hesitated. Mikoto was now resting comfortably in Sakura's arms, gurgling up at her as she held tight onto a lock of pink hair. He had no idea how much a regular check-up actually lasted, but there truly was no doubt that she would be safe there… And, in all honesty, the idea of training was a bit too strong for him to resist—dominating every protective instinct that may have arisen within him with the arrival of his niece in his life.

With a curt nod and a short grunt of agreement, he turned on his heel and left the room, the gears in his mind already turning in trying to figure out his best friend's location.

When Sasuke returned from his unexpected training session almost two hours later, Sakura was no longer in the room. Tsunade was behind her desk, appearing busy as she scanned over a document, while Mikoto was lying on the couch, on her back, chewing on the end of her pink blanket.

The blonde looked up upon hearing him enter, though by the time she spoke, the Uchiha was already making his way to where his niece was, ready to pick her up.

"Welcome back," she told him.

Mikoto made a small, surprised noise as he lifted her into his arms, and he resisted the urge to smirk at her reaction. Whether she was aware of it or not, the baby always seemed to greet him in one way or another, and it would be almost silly of him to say that he didn't enjoy it. As he shifted her in his embrace, arranging her so that she was resting her head on his shoulder, she gripped his shirt with her tiny hands, before falling silent.

It occurred to him then that she couldn't have managed to close her eyes and rest with not one, but two women around, so perhaps she would be tired and nice and finally let him sleep through the night.

Quite surprisingly, though, he found that it was hard for him to focus on what, under other circumstances, would have been the highlight of his day.

Getting to use all of his techniques and all of his expertise, getting to release all of his tension and pent-up frustration, stress, anger and annoyance in the spar he had just left with Naruto seemed to have done him more good than he had thought a simple battle of fists could. Before Mikoto came into his life, Sasuke used to train every day—sometimes, when he had nothing else to keep him busy and the weather agreed with him and his favorite pastime, from daybreak to nightfall. Being a shinobi—and one that had worked so hard for so many years in order to become stronger, to push his limits, to be invincible—training was part of his life. It was what made his days exciting. It was what kept him going. It was almost as important as eating or even breathing.

But he had never realized how much he'd miss it or how much good it actually did him and his hectic life until he lost the opportunity to do it every time he wanted.

Apparently, the young Uchiha was good at starting to miss things only once he lost them.

After beating his self-proclaimed best friend two times in a row, Sasuke had refused his invitation to lunch and headed back in the direction of the hospital, not even thinking about teleporting or even hurrying; confident that his niece was in good hands, he decided to enjoy the little time he had for himself, enjoy the silence in his ears and the breeze on his face and the lightness of his arms now that they were no longer occupied. He even dared to make a small detour to his apartment and take a proper shower, because, with the baby around, he was always dirty—either he didn't have time to wash up or she was drooling over him the second he stepped out of the bathroom.

Now, after what was shaping up to be the most relaxing day he'd had in a month, he felt strangely refreshed—and it was a feeling he hoped he could hold onto for as long as possible.

"I gave her an extensive check-up," Tsunade started speaking as she closed the file that had been on her desk, before pushing her chair back and standing up, and the words were all that was needed for his state of complete and utter relaxation to vanish in thin air, nowhere to be seen and thus impossible to retrieve. All of a sudden, Sasuke felt his heartbeat begin to pick up, the anxiety he'd previously felt returning, only increased tenfold.

Mikoto was warm, heavy, and as usual, surprisingly reassuring against him, but nothing but the spoken truth could ever truly reassure Sasuke, so he kept his dark gaze on the Hokage as she approached him. His throat closed up, his ears seemed to ring, and breathing was an effort—until Tsunade smiled, and his brain finally gave the signal for his body to relax.

"Everything is perfectly fine," she finally said. "You did good, Sasuke. She's grown and she's healthy."

His eyes zeroing in on the file she held in her hands, he came to the conclusion that it must be Mikoto's hospital record. From what he could see, there were already a couple of pages inside, which didn't fail to remind him of the fact that she'd been born premature and that she was still so ridiculously small. The fact that it was Tsunade herself who had it in her hands, though, calmed him further—if only a little. It meant that she'd taken the responsibility of being Mikoto's medic, which wasn't much of a surprise, considering she'd taken care of her from the moment she came into the world, and although he didn't show it, Sasuke was grateful for that. Slowly, but surely, beginning with how she had cleared his brother's name and ending with how she was now looking after his daughter, Tsunade was gaining his respect and changing the way he used to look at the Hokage title and position.

"I need you to bring her in sometime this week so we can give her the first immunisation shots," she continued. "Other than that, keep doing what you've been doing and everything will be alright, you'll see."

It was the first time—in his life, perhaps, not only in this particular set of circumstances—that the words didn't brush past him like a gust of warm wind, but rather, burst through his steel walls and dug their roots firmly in his heart. It was the first time someone told him something that gave him not only peace, but also hope.

A week passed, and Sasuke found himself in the hospital once again. Not surprisingly, Mikoto started crying the moment Tsunade finished giving her the required immunisation shots, prompting him to scoop her up in his arms, cradling her gently to his chest in an effort to comfort her. To be perfectly honest, there were times when he was still surprised by the fact that someone so small could cause such a ruckus, but it quickly morphed into desperation as he yearned for her to calm down. Reaching for her pink blanket from where he had left it slung over the edge of the couch, he wrapped it around her small form, thankfully right in assuming that the familiar scent would soothe her.

Mikoto whined, hiccupped, and nuzzled the crook of his neck, smudging his skin and shirt with her hot tears.

Sasuke would have rolled his eyes had it not been for the fact that a part of him hated seeing her cry more than it hated whatever discomfort it caused him.

Tsunade smiled from where she sat behind her desk, filling out a form on her clipboard. "You have it better than you think," she told him. "Most of the children I've seen would have been inconsolable by now."

The Uchiha frowned. He wouldn't have classified Mikoto as quiet, exactly, so either the blonde was telling the truth and there were even louder small human beings out there (idea which made his ears hurt), or he had become exceptionally good at handling his niece.

Of course, his large ego would lean towards the latter version.

As he gently, almost absentmindedly, rubbed her back through the thick blanket with the confidence that it would soothe her clear in his mind, though, the possibility of it being true became harder to ignore and pass off as simply something his self-absorbed persona would claim.

An entire month had passed. He had learned how to dress her and he had learned how to wash her. He had learned that, if she refused to eat one late night or early morning, it wasn't necessarily because there was something wrong, but because she was fussy—perhaps even spoiled. He had learned that his voice calmed her to the extent where she would sometimes whine loudly in demand to simply hear it. He had learned that her eyes sparkled when she smiled and that the nights when he bathed her were the ones during which she slept best. He had learned that her pink blanket gave her comfort and that, although she usually slept in her crib, her favorite place to lie down was his own bed.

There was no doubt that he still had a lot of problems and that there were even more to come. There was no doubt that, with how fast she seemed to be growing, most of the things that had taken him so long to grow accustomed to would very soon have to be discarded.

But Sasuke wasn't completely in the dark anymore, searching for his footing, fumbling for balance. A light had been turned on. And, sometimes, when he was at his most optimistic, he thought that all he needed to do was reach for it, follow it, make sure it didn't go out—and then they would both be alright.

Sasuke sighed, a growl catching in his throat as he continued on his way down the street, a sleeping Mikoto in his arms and a rambling Naruto beside him. Somehow, someway, the dobe had found out that he was at the hospital with his niece, because he'd shown up, talked the entire time Tsunade tried to give Sasuke more indications, and then followed him out of the hospital—and seemed to have every intention of continuing all the way down to his apartment.

The Uchiha would have found it alright had he not been so damn loud and obnoxious. And if Mikoto ended up being awakened by his loud voice, that would be the end of him.

"So, then, Kiba barreled straight into this enemy and I…" His voice faded in and out of his awareness. Truthfully, Sasuke found the many pebbles that littered the road much more interesting than a single word of what Naruto had to say.

Whispers reached his ears, but he ignored them, having long since grown used to them. They were not as bad, considering what he'd had to deal with when he came back to Konoha after the war and then when Tsunade started to intentionally spread rumors of the truth behind the Uchiha Massacre throughout the village. By the time she made an official announcement, they had cooled down—only to start again.

Truthfully, Sasuke had been surprised by how the villagers received the news.

The shinobi had been divided into two categories: those that justified the Elders' actions by bringing into discussion the uproar the Uchihas planned to create in order to gain control over the village, and those that respected Itachi's sacrifice—those that had admired him and respected him from all the way back when he had been in ANBU. Sasuke had expected that, and he had learned to accept it, so long as no one spoke badly of his brother in his presence.

But the villagers—common, innocent people that were not used to blood and death—had been appalled by the measures that had been taken by their own council, and the lengths that had been reached in order to subdue a rebellion that had not even happened. People that used to fear him or regard him coldly or apprehensively as he walked by on the street changed their attitudes by 180 degrees overnight. Sasuke hadn't known what to think about it at the beginning; now, he simply resumed at not thinking about it at all.

Granted, him making a sudden appearance one day with a baby in his arms had stirred the calmed whispers all over again. Assumptions were made and rumors were spread, but the majority of the population seemed to have found out, by now, whose child he was taking care of. Sasuke blamed the hospital staff for that. Or rather, he would have, had he cared. But as it was, he didn't, because, whether the child was his or not, his fan-girls were even more relentless in their pursuit of him. That was pretty much as far as his concern for the public went, and that was only because, in some cases, it was directly linked to his well-being.

"So, I—" Just as Naruto's voice flittered through his consciousness once more, a loud squeal was heard—the type of squeal that chased birds from their nests and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Sasuke stopped abruptly in his path, onyx eyes suddenly alert as they scanned their surroundings for the source of the offending noise. Mikoto, quite surprisingly, continued to sleep peacefully in his arms; her only reaction consisted in a grunt and a small shift of her head, now buried in the crook of his neck, no longer resting on his shoulder.

Once he dismissed the noise as a threat, it was easy for the Uchiha to locate the person who had caused it. That, of course, could have also been helped by the fact that Naruto seemed to have identified her first and proceeded to wave both of his arms in her direction, as if his bright orange jacket wasn't enough of an indication of their position. Following his line of sight, Sasuke discovered two women weaving their way through the crowd. The first, and clearly the most enthusiastic, was no one other than Yamanaka Ino; she had a grin the size of Fire Country on her lips and her blue eyes sparkled in a way that Sasuke immediately decided he disliked, so when she came to a stop in front of them, he took a step back in a movement set clearly to protect his niece.

The blonde glared, huffed, and crossed her arms over her chest. On his part, Sasuke settled for a blank stare thrown in her direction. She seemed to dismiss his actions and the discomfort they caused her very soon, though, because the grin returned to her lips and the baby girl in his arms became, once more, the centre of her attention.

The second person's apparition was even more surprising than the first's, but not in the same intrusive way. In all honesty, that title only applied to her because Sasuke was surprised by her presence. After all, Haruno Sakura had managed the impossible feat of avoiding him for months in a row—and now he saw her for the second time that week? He could have entertained the idea that his mind, together with his eyes, were playing tricks on him, but that would have been a bit much, even for him, so he stopped there.

Unlike her friend, her approach was much slower and much more careful. She didn't cause a ruckus, didn't push past people, didn't turn heads or received glares, and she didn't rush onto him as if she had every intention of swallowing him or the girl in his arms. In fact, she seemed almost hesitant. She barely cracked a smile when Naruto enveloped her in his arms and spun her around in his own form of greeting.

Sasuke wanted to roll his eyes at the sight, but the fact that Ino was trying to touch his niece was deemed more important.

"Look, Uchiha," the blonde started, placing her hands on her hips, tone accusing, as if she was talking to a five-year-old that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

This time, Sasuke did roll his eyes. "Go away, woman," he demanded, swatting her hand to the side when she tried to reach Mikoto.

"Give up, Ino!" Naruto's raucous laughter broke in on their conversation. "The bastard won't let anyone touch her. She's made of glass and we don't know it."

The Uchiha rolled his eyes, but he refused to react verbally to such a ridiculous remark. Perhaps it was because he was tired, maybe it was because he was growing old and weary, even at such an early stage in his life; it could be simply because, if he studied the matter from the right angle, Naruto was right—stupid, as always, but right. He never allowed people to touch Mikoto, and that was for a very simple reason: it was in no way, shape, or form, their business.

Naruto was stupid, careless, and dirty, a potential threat of infection he would hate his niece to come in contact with. Ino was loud and also stupid, an influence he did not want in Mikoto's life, so he denied her access in it. Fan-girls (and other social categories he seemed to be stumbling across every time he walked out of the house nowadays) were useless to even mention.

He allowed Tsunade to touch his niece, though, and he had even seen Shizune do the same and never uttered a word of complaint about it. The two women knew what they were doing and could only bring benefits to Mikoto—and, in the grand scheme of things, to him, as well.

It occurred to him then, for the first time, that he hadn't had a problem with Sakura holding Mikoto, either. He seemed to have completely excluded her from the equation, but the fact of the matter was, only a couple of days prior, in Tsunade's office, he'd left his niece in her arms and, had he returned earlier, judging by the traces of familiar chakra that he had still been able to feel in the room, he would have been greeted by the same sight. The knowledge that she'd been there all along when he hadn't, though, didn't bother him.

Common sense dictated that he should be wary of her after how she had turned on him, especially since he was so protective of his niece. But it seemed as though not even that could bring him to feel wariness, or anger, or even hate. Nothing, it seemed, could bring him to feel for her what he should. He could force himself to and he could command himself to, he could ignore her and he could tell himself he hated her, but when it came down to being honest, the story changed, because he simply could not feel that for her. He could not. The easiest explanation he could find was that he was, once again, tired of sharing out negative emotions to everyone in his path. He didn't want to be angry with her, he wanted to forget the incident in the Land of Iron had ever happened. He didn't want to have to deal with yet another problem. He'd never wanted to have to patch up his relationship with her, of all the people.

Regardless, it was one thing for him not to want to do something; it was another entirely for him to be unable to do it.

Perhaps it was that why he found that he was constantly annoyed in her presence. To avoid being frustrated, on top of that, he simply told himself that the reason why he trusted her with Mikoto was because she was a perfectly capable medic and because he associated her with Tsunade—and it was no secret that Tsunade had helped him much more than she should have, not only since Mikoto stumbled in his life, but ever since the war ended.

After another failed attempt at touching the baby in his arms, attempt that ended in her hand being roughly swatted away by Sasuke, Ino huffed and stomped her foot on the ground.

Naruto bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to stifle his laughter and not interrupt the scene, and even Sakura turned her head to curiously gaze at her friend.

Sasuke simply raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Ugh!" she groaned, before swiftly turning to the pink-haired medic.

When he had to avoid the blond ponytail whipping in his direction, the Uchiha took a step back and scowled.

"I'll be waiting for you at the mall," she announced, before she departed, though not without one last angry glare for the raven-haired man.

Mikoto shifted, making a small noise in the back of her throat that Sasuke was all too familiar with, clearly disgruntled by the commotion. To be honest, he had been surprised that she had made it all the way from the hospital, through Naruto's chatter and then Ino's assault, without waking. He came to the conclusion that it was the vaccine wearing its effect—and as she pressed her forehead to his neck, he noted that her skin did feel a bit warmer to the touch than usual.

He furrowed his brows. Tsunade had made him aware of all possible side-effects, but when he could barely deal with a baby in normal condition, the thought of her being sick put him off a bit more than he cared to admit.

"So…" The nervous shuffle of Sakura's feet on the gravel snapped him out of his thoughts, and he lifted his head to see her pulling at the bottom of her shirt and biting her lower lip. "What are you guys up to?"

"I'm going to meet with Hinata-chan!" Naruto exclaimed, loud enough to earn a cringe and a glare from Sasuke. The Uchiha did remember him mentioning the mousy, dark-haired girl at some point in his one-sided conversation, but nothing too particular.

Sakura smiled gently. "That's nice, Naruto," she said, and she seemed genuinely happy for him. "Knock her off her feet, alright? Just without having her faint."

"Will do, Sakura-chan!" the blond laughed. "Well, I'll get going. See you guys around!" he declared, just as happily as always, before departing with a wave and blending into the crowd.

Sasuke half expected Sakura to push past him and walk away without another word; the other half of him was so estranged from her presence that it didn't know what to make out of the current situation. But she didn't do that, and he realized after a second that he should have known she wouldn't. Sakura wasn't mean or disrespectful by any means, and in all the time that she had been avoiding him, she had been doing it with tact.

But then again, what was once sure ground that he stood upon with her was now moving sands.

After watching Naruto off, the pinkette turned around, her full attention settling on him.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

She bit her lip and buried her hands in the back pockets of her pants; looking down and then moving her gaze upwards, to him, the hesitance was clear in her expression as she shifted under his watchful eyes. Raising an eyebrow, Sasuke studied her reactions with carefully concealed interest, seeing clearly how uncomfortable she was and feeling on his own skin how awkward the entire situation was—and, to be perfectly honest, a part of him was glad about that. But he refused to give her the pleasure of caving in first, in whatever way that would be, either by opening his mouth to speak or by leaving. Considering she'd had the courage to lie to him in the face and then try to drive a kunai through his back, she could certainly find it within her to address him, right?

In midst of an attempt to articulate her feelings and intentions, Sakura's eyes seemed to fall on Mikoto. Bottomless green pools softened and, soon enough, even a small smile pulled at the corners of her lips as she reached out to gently touch her back, wary of his reaction, yet still somewhat confident and sure of herself. Sasuke didn't slap her hand away as he'd done with Ino, but she was quick to remove it herself, not wanting to push her luck or to drive him away.

He simply gazed her at with an unreadable expression, while on the inside, he was brimming with curiosity and annoyance. There were so many facets of her personality that he simply could not figure out, and he was unable to tell if she was truly such a complex person or she was so fake that she'd managed to fool even the most perceptive of people. What was clear to him, though, was that she was an entirely different woman when she was around Mikoto—and there was nothing about her that seemed fake then.

"She's… so small," she whispered, finally breaking the silence that had fallen over the two of them, even as the world continued to move around them in a flurry of movement and sound, of chatter and footsteps and wind.

The Uchiha raised an eyebrow.

Her eyes never met his. They remained fixed on the baby in his arms.

"But I was there for her check-up, you know? She's very healthy. You're doing a great job," she confessed, and then finally, raised her head to briefly meet his gaze.

Sasuke wasn't impressed with the topic she had chosen and he wasn't impressed with the information she had given him, so other than that, he had nothing to show her through the apathy in his eyes.

Sakura swallowed. "Um, I should probably get going, too. I just…" Pausing, she seemed to reconsider the words that were about to escape her lips, shook her head, and then tried again, deciding to take the plunge, "I just wanted to say that… if you want to train, or go on a mission sometime, or… or just get tired, you know? Because you're bound to get tired at some point… You can leave Mikoto with me." Her offer was surprisingly bold for someone who had been avoiding him for months, but she was gazing up at him with green eyes that screamed to have faith in what she was saying. "I'll take good care of her, I promise."

"I don't need your help," he automatically stated, without even thinking. There was something inside of him that didn't quite allow him to tell her he didn't, couldn't, and would never trust her again. With her looking at him like that, he would have felt much like a liar.

"No," she agreed, almost as if she had expected that, even though she initially drew back from the force of his words.

He narrowed his eyes and all of his questions returned, hitting him head on and at full force. Why in the world was she trying to approach him? Why in the world did she want to deal with Mikoto when she couldn't stop shaking around him? What was her deal? She couldn't possibly love his niece that much already. There were a million of children out there for her to grow attached to.

"But… you may want to go on a mission at some point… Anyway, just…" She shook her head with an air of finality. "I just wanted you to know that I'd love to look after her. She's a sweetheart. See you, Sasuke."

He almost—almost—felt bad as he watched her retreat as quickly as possible out of his sight, her head lowered and shoulders hunched as if she was trying to shield herself from whatever response he would not give.

Sasuke never got to lay his head on the pillow that night. He never even got to close his eyes. Mikoto was restless from the very beginning.

After they arrived home, she remained asleep for a while more, an hour or perhaps a bit more, before she started to fuss.

He tried to feed her, she refused to eat. He changed her, it had no effect. He even gave her a bath, and it only seemed to make her crankier. By the time she was full on crying her lungs out, Sasuke was out of solutions and ideas on how to soothe her.

She had a fever, which, according to what Tsunade had told him, wasn't abnormal, but she felt so overly hot to the touch and she was clearly in such discomfort that he realized there was no way he could have been prepared to deal with that.

Of course, he had known firsthand that having a fever was far from pleasant; he wasn't sick often, but when he was, he hated every second of his days. He hadn't quite taken into account how it must feel when you're only the length of a forearm, when your head fits in the palm of a grown man, and when, on top of it all, you don't even know what's happening to you.

All that Sasuke could do was walk around the house with her in his arms, rub her back, try to speak—but not even that worked. Nothing worked. She continued to cry, her little face red and smeared with hot tears. And what made his heart clench in his chest, as if that wouldn't have been enough by itself, was the way she clung to him. She fisted his shirt and refused to let go, she buried her head in the crook of his neck and refused to be moved, and she was surprisingly forceful in how adamant she was. She was clinging to him because she only had him to cling to and she wanted him to soothe her, to help her, to do something to make her feel better. She asked that of him—who only ever caused pain to those around him. Moreover, it was the only thing she asked, and Sasuke couldn't give her it.

It was for the first time since she stepped into his life that the Uchiha didn't wish he didn't have to deal with this. He didn't wish he would have a cure for it. He didn't wish he knew how to deal with her better and to be better to comforting her.

He wished he could take away her discomfort. He wished he was the one in her shoes. He would know how to deal with it. And if he didn't, then at least he deserved it.

Mikoto didn't—she didn't deserve anything that had happened to her in the course of her short life. She didn't deserve being his brother's child, she didn't deserve having the curse of the Sharingan looming over her tiny form, she didn't deserve the abandonment of her mother, and she most definitely didn't deserve being stuck with him—the person who destroyed everything he touched.

Sasuke was struggling with closing the buttons on Mikoto's pink shirt while she smiled and gurgled up at him as if in amusement when a messenger hawk dropped onto his windowsill, cutting through his concentration. With a frown, unsure of what had happened that made the Hokage send after him, seeing as she had refrained from doing so ever since Mikoto was released from the hospital into his care, he left his niece on the changing table and headed for the window—though not before giving the baby a wary look. With all the progress she was making, Sasuke honestly couldn't say he trusted her not to roll over and fall headfirst onto the floor one of these days.

As he slid the window up and then stretched out his hand, the hawk immediately dropped the penchant, before spreading his wings and taking off flying into the sky, towards the Hokage Tower. Before he opened the scroll, Sasuke returned to Mikoto's side, placing a hand firmly on her stomach, feeling as she fussed beneath his touch.

As expected, the message required his immediate presence in the Hokage's office, but he still raised an eyebrow at the words printed clearly on the page. Turning to his niece, he rolled his eyes at the toothless smile she gave him, her onyx orbs sparkling in the sunlight that poured into the room generously. Since she started being such a handful that even he found it hard to keep up, Sasuke had avoided leaving her with anybody other than himself, even a clone. So, he decided as he leaned over to button up the rest of her small blouse, he would take her with him. Tsunade had never seemed to mind her presence, and even if she had, considering her demand, he was sure that would now be the least of her problems.

Outside, summer was slowly coming to an end. With September almost over, the temperatures started to drop more significantly, the warm days few and far in between; rain fell more often, colorful leaves covered the ground in a thick blanket. As Sasuke exited the apartment building with Mikoto in his arms, a somewhat chilly breeze blew, but he had taken care to wrap her up in a knitted cardigan—or a tiny garment that resembled one, at least.

His niece seemed to enjoy being outside, and her temper tantrums were, apparently, confined to closed spaces, which was something the Uchiha was actually quite proud of. He got very little sleep, but at least he'd never been seen with a screaming child in his arms. He supposed it was more because she was curious than because she was worried about her pride or his image, but when they were outside, she was quiet. She sat comfortably in his arms, watching the world move around them, following everything that caught her attention with curious eyes and visibly absorbing every last bit of information that she could and cared about. She would lift her tiny head and hold it up for as long as she could, before leaning it back down on his shoulder, waiting for a minute, and then repeating the process. She was fussy, she grabbed at his hair more than he was sure was necessary, but she wasn't loud, by any means.

That was not to say they were deprived of attention from passers by, but Sasuke had long since become used to that particular aspect of his life. First as an Uchiha, then as a survivor, then as Orochimaru's apprentice, as a traitor, as a missing-nin, as the killer of his brother, as Madara's aid—then, reluctantly, as one of the heroes of the war. One way or another, people always found reasons to stare at him and subjects to turn into gossip. This was just another one of them—and he supposed Mikoto would have to learn how to deal with it when the time came, as well.

When he reached the Hokage's office, her obviously stressed-out secretary ushered him straight in, and he found the blonde already waiting for him, scribbling on a scroll.

Once the door had closed behind him, she wasted no time in stating her purpose and getting right down to business.

"You have a mission, Sasuke," she announced, without raising her eyes from the paper.

In response, he frowned. "I can't go on a mission," he grunted, somewhat annoyed that she had even asked—not because she should have known he had Mikoto to take care of, but more because, if that had somehow escaped her mind, she was now dangling something in front of his face that he was craving, but that he knew he couldn't have.

"You'll have to," she stated, surprising him in so far as prompting an immediate reaction out of him, even if that was only a raised eyebrow. Rolling up the scroll she had been so busy with, Tsunade finally lifted her head and locked eyes with him. "I have already assembled a team and you are part of it. I know your situation and I have tried to be as understanding as possible, but your skills are needed out there this time. You're leaving in two hours, so please hurry back home to pack."

"And Mikoto?" he asked.

"She'll be fine," the blonde dismissed, throwing him the scroll. Sasuke shifted his niece in one arm in order to catch it with the other. Curious as always, Mikoto lifted her head off his shoulder, her eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected action, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and then reached out towards it—only to have Sasuke hold it out of her reach. "I'll ask someone you can trust—Shizune, probably—to look after her. I'm sure she won't say no."

His lips twisted in displeasure at her solution.

Tsunade raised an eyebrow. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Hn," was his only answer, and since the Hokage couldn't understand it, she decided to deem it negative. "Leave her with me," she commanded, already opening her arms.

The Uchiha sighed in defeat, but made his way around her desk without further complaint, handing her over to the older woman, exactly as she had asked.

Tsunade smiled. She had never entertained the thought of having children of her own. She had found love, but she had been young and in the middle of a raging war. Perhaps, if Dan had lived, the situation would have been different; as much as she hated to admit to her age, perhaps she would have now had people to call grandchildren. That was not the case, though, and there had been no struggle involved in accepting reality.

If she were to be perfectly honest, though, she wasn't very fond of children. She assisted to the occasional birth when her presence was necessary and she had to admit that helping bring a life into the world was an amazing feeling that never truly went away, only lowered in intensity, but when she was losing her patience with every bratty genin that entered her office, she doubted she was good mother material. Which was why she had to hand it to Uchiha Sasuke for taking such good care of his niece, considering she was well familiarized with his—not so high—levels of patience.

Yet she had to admit there was something special about Mikoto—something that extended a bit further away than her wide eyes and cute button nose, the strong hold of her tiny fingers and the dimple that formed in her cheek when she smiled. She supposed it had to do with her story. Abandoned by a mother too scared to raise her by herself because of her infamous heritage, with her father dead and his name steeped in controversy, handed over to an uncle who was still very much a child himself in many aspects… She was clearly someone that needed all the help she could get—and all the love.

And she would have both, without a doubt. Because Sasuke wasn't the only person she had, as much as the man refused to see it. There was Naruto and Sakura and all of their friends, all of those crazy kids that dreamed and wished for a better world; they were there to change it, to make it happen, and they would be there to make Mikoto a part of it, as well. And that, she realized as she stared down into onyx eyes and a smile, was something the girl would be able to feel very early on. It was only a matter of having the other stubborn Uchiha acknowledge it.

"Also," she spoke before he could leave, shifting the baby in her arms, settling her on her lap, with her back to her stomach. "Leave me the key to your apartment. We will probably need a couple of things from in there."

The Uchiha complied without further ado, fishing a set of keys out of his pocket and throwing it in her direction, resolving that he would simply leave his door unlocked. The latch was more a formality than a matter of security, after all, considering the fact that no one dared to approach his house, much less break into it.

Walking out of the room, the excitement that came with the prospect of a mission swirled around him, almost enveloping him whole—not unlike what he had felt when Tsunade told him he could run off to find Naruto for a sparing session. It had been entirely too long since he had pulled out his backpack from underneath his bed, entirely too long since he had felt the reassuring weight of his weapons strapped to his waist, entirely too long since he had lied down to step outside the gates of Konoha.

The wind picked up, sending leaves brushing past him. Sasuke wondered why it felt so strange to have his hands stuck in his pockets.

He was halfway to his apartment when he realized it was because he'd already become used to carrying something—someone—in his arms.

It took him an entire week to return, the mission a gift from Hell—but a success. He had been teamed with the Hyuuga heiress and her old teammate, the Inuzuka together his faithful animal companion, and they had somehow both ended up injured. While Hinata headed straight for the hospital, Kiba insisted to accompany him to the Hokage's office, action which came as no surprise to the Uchiha, considering the fact that he had already known the man formed part of the quite large group of people whose trust he still hadn't regained. Thankfully, he was quickly dealt with, as the Hokage sent him to the hospital to have his wounds treated as soon as they finished reporting the most important details of their mission.

Dead on his feet, Sasuke stayed behind. All he wanted was to head home, stand under the shower spray for approximately five minutes and then collapse on his bed, face-first in his pillow. But he probably would have had more chances of resting on his mission if it had gone smoothly than he had at home.

Tsunade glanced up from the files on her desk, perfectly aware of his reasons for staying. "I've already sent after Mikoto," she announced. "Though, with the way you look, you could probably use a good night of sleep and a tranquil morning."

Sasuke almost rolled his eyes and told her she was perceptive, but managed to refrain himself from doing so or giving any other brash response. With his short temper and lack of patience, it wouldn't have been the first time he talked back to her, but after everything she'd done for him, he supposed it would have been somewhat inappropriate.

"But you can arrange that with Sakura, I'm sure."

The Uchiha blinked. "Sakura?" he repeated, unsure of whether he'd heard right—half-hoping that he hadn't.

Tsunade raised an eyebrow, and he realized that his reaction hadn't been as discrete as he'd hoped. The sound of Sakura's name had always stirred something unknown inside of him and the situation hadn't changed after the war—it had only become worse. Because, if in the past, he had never failed to be annoyed at the unrecognizable emotions, at least they had come as one at a time—not the mangled mess that showed its ugly head now.

Someone you can trust, Tsunade had said. That was the exact phrase she had used to refer to the person she would give his niece to for the time he would have been gone. Face to face with reality, Sasuke wanted to scoff. Was that her idea of a person he could trust? His ex-teammate who had tried to kill him?

As soon as the cynic thought crossed his mind, two knocks resounded through the room, following by a firm 'come in' from the Hokage.

The door opened, and in stepped Sakura, dressed in a pair of flowery jeans and white flats. Her pink hair fell down her back, caught only to avoid it falling into her eyes, and she looked more the part of a civilian than that of a renowned kunoichi.

Mikoto was in her arms, head nestled in the crook of her neck, clad in a little white dress with a cream cardigan on top that made her look much like a curled-up kitten.

His brows furrowed slightly at the tug he felt in his heart, pulling him in her direction. Although he had, at first, been apprehensive about stepping outside the gates and leaving, given the fact that he hadn't left her side since she was brought home, that thought, and the slight churning of his stomach that he recognized as worry, was pushed further and further to the back of his mind as the mission wore on. It was on the battlefield that he felt better than anywhere else. The tension, the adrenaline, the pressure, even the pain—those were things that he needed, things that had been incorporated in his life so early on it was now impossible to remove them from his construction without rendering him unrecognizable. No, with the thrill of the battle running through his veins, Mikoto hadn't crossed his mind much.

But now, as he stood there, thinking what he was and feeling the way he was, he couldn't help but wonder… had he missed her? It was a ridiculous thought, since she was the loudest creature that had ever set foot inside his house—except for the dobe, perhaps—and silence was something he priced so much, but he had come to accept the fact that the little girl had a way of awakening all types of strange emotions inside him.

"Alright, you two," Tsunade's voice boomed through the office, snapping him out of his thoughts. The Uchiha was starting to suspect she'd had a bit to drink. "Now that you're both here, how about you both get out? Uchiha!" Hearing his name, he turned around just in time to catch the scroll flying at great speed towards his face. "Read that and send me a summary. If you can't go on missions all the time, you're doing my paperwork."

A full-fledged glare burned into his eyes as soon as her words registered in his mind, but a small, familiar squeak from behind him stopped him from turning what should have been a polite answer into an acid remark.

Mikoto shifted in Sakura's arms, lifting her tiny head from her shoulder, and the pink-haired woman hid a smile and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

Sasuke frowned. It had never occurred to him to kiss Mikoto. He hugged her and had more physical contact with her than he'd had with anyone in his entire life, but it had never before occurred to him to kiss her. The more he interacted with people, it seemed, the more were the things he discovered were natural to them, but not to him—things Mikoto would have to grow up without.

Naruto talked to her all the time, and because he was such a buffoon, she always smiled at him. She smiled at Sasuke, as well, but that was because he was always around, and not because he actually told her even half of the things his idiotic best friend did. Hell, he barely even called out her name—and how was she supposed to learn it if he never said it, in the first place? Ino squealed when she saw him with her on the street, which was why he had taken a liking to not leaving the house much, in the first place.

And then there was Sakura, who kissed and cuddled her to her chest in a way that, admittedly, he had never quite been able to do. He did it with the utmost care and attention. Sakura did it with an affection that was impossible to hide, and in such a natural manner that he was almost envious.

What could he do about that, though? Other than try harder, nothing. There was no other option for him.

As soon as they both exited the Hokage's office, Sasuke reached for his niece. She was warm, soft, and smelled of coconut. She squealed and kicked her legs upon realizing exactly whose arms had wrapped around her so securely, her eyes lighting up in what seemed to be excitement.

His heart clenched in his chest. It had been easy, while he was away, to forget about her existence, to pretend his life was still the same as before. Out of Konoha and with his mind sent clear on a goal and constantly working to achieve it, it had felt good—being back where he belonged, completely in his element, back in a life that, although was far from perfect, was entirely his own. But now that she was back in his arms, he almost felt disgusted with himself for thinking in that way. She only had him. Her mother had abandoned her without a trace of hesitation, and while he had stepped up and taken responsibility, didn't the fact that he didn't want her, either, place him in exactly the same category as her? That wasn't a place where he wanted to be.

Then there was another matter. In Konoha, nothing was the same. Outside its walls, he felt free; he felt liberated and alive. Inside, he felt cold and almost suffocated with the memory of his parents and his brother and everything he had done to protect it and how much he would have wished to destroy it. It was home, but with so much history between him and his clan and this godforsaken village, every day of being there was painful.

Though, he realized then… it had been. With Mikoto around, there was no time for him to dwell on stressful, painful thoughts. She filled his life completely, chasing the ghosts of the past away with every smile or giggle she gave him.

"She recognizes you, it seems," Sakura remarked softly, capturing his attention.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was standing in front of him, hands buried in the back pockets of her jeans, a posture he was beginning to classify as a nervous gesture. Her body was tense, she was clearly still uncomfortable in his presence, but if he were to note an improvement, at least she could speak without having her voice tremble.

That wasn't enough incentive for him to actually give her a response, though. He briefly wondered what he was still doing there, in the first place, but then he figured it was probably the baby girl in his arms and all the feelings that had bombarded him and that he had yet to sort out.

"So… how was your mission?"

Her sudden question bewildered him so much that he turned his surprised gaze openly upon her. She seemed somewhat embarrassed by her awkward attempt at a conversation once she noticed his reaction. It could have been that that prompted him to answer.

"Fine," he grunted out.

Mikoto gurgled, nuzzling her face against his neck, and he shifted her in his arms, grimacing as, for a moment, her weight rested right on the rather large and ugly bruise he had gotten in hand-to-hand combat with quite a powerful nin.

Sakura's reaction was immediate, her green eyes flooding with worry. "Are you hurt?" she instantly asked. "I can heal y—"

"I don't need you," he snapped before he could censure the words that left his mouth. "I can take care of it myself."

The pinkette reeled back as though he had slapped her. Taking a step back, she swallowed, before clearing her throat and attempting to speak, "Um, okay," she said, her voice small and quiet. "Okay, then."

Sasuke lingered no more. He turned around and, with his niece nestled in his arms, made his way down the hallway.

It never even crossed his mind to do as little as utter a 'thank you'. He wasn't the one who asked her to take care of Mikoto, and she definitely wasn't the one he would have entrusted her with, so there was no reason for him to feel any sort of gratitude for her.

He made his way through the streets, ignoring the twinge of pain in his side, until he made it to his apartment. He had yet to talk to Tsunade about his decision of returning to the Uchiha Compound, so he would have to bring it up sometime—probably when he brought her the complete paperwork back.

Upon opening the door, he had expected to find a ruckus. Sakura had never been a messy person; actually, if he remembered correctly, though there was a high chance that he didn't, she actually used to be quite organized. But Uchiha Sasuke had his own order in his house, and it bothered him when someone messed with it even in as much as moving the kitchen table an inch to the side.

Turned out, he needn't have worried. The place was exactly as he had left it. Even the blanket slung over the back of the couch was still lying there, folded messily. The empty box of pizza on his kitchen counter was unmoved. The drawers in Mikoto's room were unopened. Her many bottles of powder and lotion were untouched.

Frowning, Sasuke shifted the baby in his arms to gaze down at her in confusion. He wished he was able to tell if her clothes were new, because it was clear to him that Sakura hadn't set foot in his apartment since he had been gone. It was a lost cause from the very beginning, though, because he still hadn't been able to work his way through even half of the garments Ino had stocked his niece up with.

But if the conclusion he had reached was true, and Sakura did what he thought she did…

He had seen the way she gazed at Mikoto, of course. He had seen the warm look in her green eyes when she held her in her arms. He had seen her protective stance, her loving embrace. He had seen how stupidly attached she had grown to her from the very first moment she laid her eyes on her. But Mikoto was, as he had come to accept, truly adorable, and she could easily win the hearts of everybody—emotional Sakura was hardly an exception, since she was probably more prone than anyone else to falling for her charms.

But even so, this was Sakura and he was Sasuke and Mikoto was his niece and there were a million of beautiful children out there. Sakura feared him. She physically trembled in his presence. They had a history together that was so far from pleasant it was almost laughable, in the darkest, most sadistic of ways.

The question was as recurring as the reasons that prompted it: why?

A/N: Hi, everybody! As ridiculous as it might be that all of my A/Ns start in exactly the same way, I am sorry for the long wait! I finished the chapter a couple of weeks ago, but I hate editing, and every time I sat down and told myself I would get the torture over with, something came up. Also, uni life is crazy; different. I'm homesick and, most of the time, not sure of what I'm doing. Some of you can relate, I'm sure.

On with the story, Sasuke's having trouble adapting to his niece in his life and understanding Sakura. Lots of problems for him—but we love that, don't we? If there's still not enough SasuSaku action for you (which, I'm assuming it isn't), be patient. Future chapters will satisfy you, I presume (and hope).

One more thing: I've been getting a lot of questions or reviews that asked for an explanation of some type from guest users, and as you can understand, I have no way of answering those. So, if you don't have an account and want to ask me something, go to my Tumblr and do it there! :)

Please review and let me know your thoughts on this chapter! A lot of effort goes into writing this story, so I need your feedback!