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- ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ : <ᴛ> -

[ ᴩʀᴏᴍᴩᴛ ] : "ᴡᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ yᴏᴜʀ ʀᴜɪɴ. Yᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴩᴩᴇɴ."

[ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀy ] :

ꜱᴀꜱᴏʀɪ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ɪᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴩ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴀʀ.

= ʙy : ᴡʜɪꜱᴩᴇʀᴇᴅꜱɪʟᴠᴇʀꜱ =

{ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ} : 1,344

༺°•✮・※꧁༺༒༻꧂※・✮•°༻

It feels like rain dripping over the tent. The sounds are muted, muffled, as if they were going through a filter and it's a quiet sense of peace that makes it so much easier to think. The tent is a warm shade of brown, bolted with steel rods and black tape.

"What are you doing?" Sakura asks as she moves over the flap, her hair is slightly damp from the sprinkle of rain, but she smells good and he can't fault her for that.

"Debating on whether or not to make tea," He answers easily.

"I have a canteen already brewed," She says and then she adds in after a couple of beats, "If you want. It's jasmine."

Sasori thinks on it and then he shakes his head.

The war is tiring. It's the only word Sasori can use to describe his immense exhaustion. Between Wind and Cloud, it's like an ancient battle, from two different realms, it's senseless he thinks. It's always senseless and the reason for it being senseless is because it was about territory.

The Daimyos of both countries are both equally stubborn.

"Sensei is still running the perimeter," Sakura suddenly says, she removes her hair-tie and rubs her scalp roughly, "We should reach checkpoint before noon tomorrow."

He considers this. Elections, unfortunately, would not be for another six months, the chances of this war ending is coming close to a standstill and it's just so frustrating. Border patrols and tensions between both countries are hostile, it was like they were waiting to go to war, but for what reason? More land? Cloud has at least three mountains and Earth has half a valley before it splits into civilian villages and districts.

It's enough.

But people are greedy.

So greedy and so eager for power.

Sasori thought that the war would not escalate into something like this, dragging allies from nearby countries, Konoha and Suna for one, but if they did not heed to the treaty, trade would stop, markets would plummet and resources would diminish.

And these requests – orders really – came from the Daimyo himself.

"What about Kiri?"

"They are quiet," She replies, she considers the amount of land they have before they stumble across another fort. "Nothing yet. The Mizukage is being cautious, Tsunade-sama thinks she wants to declare neutrality."

"The country is war-torn," Sasori blinks and then shifts his head until his hair dangles delicately off his cot, like tiny red threads spilling over manila, "She can't afford losing more shinobi."

"She is Tsunade-sama's friend," The pink-haired medic informs him with uncertainty, "It would be hard for her to declare neutrality since the country is still active within the treaty."

"Her problem then," He says airily.

Sakura stares at him, he looks tired, like he's aged a couple years even though the war started five months ago and it's hard to look at him knowing that all he wants to do is go home. She wants to go home too. They all do.

She met three months ago and it wasn't exactly a pleasant first meeting. He dealt with puppets and tactics. She was in the medic ward, her patient was someone who had chakra poisoning — not regular poisoning, but chakra poisoning. Sasori had walked in demanding an update on his partner and she had calmly explained to him to follow the fucking protocol—which meant, do not come into her ward and order her around.

Was she pleasantly surprised when he barraged her a practical list of medical jargon and symptoms of her unconscious patient. Surprised? Yes. Pleasantly? Not so much. But she replied to him with her form of medical jargon which was medical jargon and very colorful language intertwined with her terminology.

Allies or not, each country has their own form of prejudice.

But Sakura is chakra sensitive, so when she heals his patient with on hand in front of him and writes a list of herbs for him to hunt down, all the while muttering incoherent swear words, Sasori takes that as a sign of trust, because clearly, she knew what she was doing.

Sometimes they bump into each other. Most of the time it's in the tactic division and very rarely would they come across each other in divisional meetings between the regime leaders. Despite being an offensive medic, Sakura rather stay hidden in the shadows and attack when she needs to.

Sasori could understand that too — to an extent of course.

Yet one day, he requested her for an assignment. Part of him wanted to see her in action, and part of him was just curious. Tsunade wasn't kind when she asked him of his intentions with his apprentice — he wasn't aware how close she was with the Hokage.

But his answer was diplomatic.

I need her with me on the field.

To Naruto, that trust and determination was significant, albeit daunting.

But Sakura can handle herself.

One assignment turned into ten and by then, Tsunade and his Kage came to an agreement. Sakura was reassigned to his squad with co-leadership. Four months passed and it was getting harder and harder to deny the strange but almost magnetic relationship that was brewing. It wasn't romantic, but it was unprofessional and she didn't bother to put a label on it because it was war.

"Maybe you should have some tea," Sakura insists quietly, she grabs her canteen from her pouch, "You look like you're dying."

It's a poor choice of words, though not far from the truth.

Sasori snorts, his jaw is hard against the warm light of the lantern, "I'm still here."

"Barely," She mutters and pours him a cup, "Drink."

Sasori accepts the cup, because if he didn't, she has no qualms about shoving it down his throat. She could be forceful when she didn't get what she wanted, he's not complaining, he smiles almost gently against his cup, he likes trouble.

He gives her back the cup and she twists the nozzle, when she places the canteen on the side of his tiny makeshift desk, he grabs her by the arm and yanks her onto him. She smells really good, he realizes dazedly, like rain and the cold air.

"You're going to stop manhandling me one of these days," Sakura grumbles as she tries to rearrange her limbs and stop herself from giving him one knee in the gut.

Sasori laughs lightly, his hair is like fire in the sun, but his eyes are burning with hazel dipped in gold and he stares at her like she's his last taste of water, fingers brushing against her arm and he agrees, "Maybe."

Sakura finally settles onto her stomach, her chin resting against his clavicle and she stares at him with a certain level of softness. He really is pretty. She admires his strong cheekbones and the way he looks at her with a certain light, intensely and all that warmly. Like she is all that he says, in for that moment, she is all that he sees.

"There's chakra in the tea," Sasori accuses her numbly.

"It healing chakra," She answers him, green eyes flicker over to her canteen, "It relaxes your chakra system and does the same with your nervous system; it will help you sleep."

Sasori, with one shot of tightly-contained energy, he flips her over until he's half on top of her, he mumbles into her hair, "Your concern is noted."

She laughs despite this, his arms tighten around her, and she scraped blunt nails across his back, "You're welcome."

Sasori doesn't turn back to look at her, but his lips brush the side of her cheekbone and then exhales a puff of warm air against her earlobe, he breathes drowsily, "Just for a little while..."

Stay.

༺°•✮・※꧁༺༒༻꧂※・✮•°༻

♛ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ :『@ᴩᴏᴡᴅᴇʀʙʟᴇᴡ』ᴏɴ ꜰꜰ.ɴ!