There was another explosion of protest from Naruto, which both Sakura and Sasuke ignored.
"Yes, well. Tsunade-sama has the power to pull the plug on any projects; however she approves this one, and therefore the power falls to you," she explained passively, pouring some more tea into her mug, "Personally, I think it should be your choice, so even if she told me to leave, I wouldn't."
"Aa."
"Sakura-chan," Naruto moped in a desperate manner, "Have you no decency?"
"Naruto," she countered in a sharp retort, "Have you no manners?"
Sakura grinned in satisfaction as the fox-faced boy shut his mouth; Sasuke smirked faintly as he ate his soup.
The rain was pelting hard on the veranda as Sasuke walked next to Sakura, moving to another part of the Uchiha household. Sakura was making him examine each room closely, until he knew the location of furniture to the exact millimeter, and then promptly threw him into a new location, one in which he then had to get used to as well. He had grown a little apprehensive as he realized which direction they were currently headed; they had gone through almost all the rooms already, and there were few left to visit.
Sakura stopped before a door to a new room and a cold dread filled Sasuke's stomach as he realized where they had stopped—he knew they would stop here, but he had been inwardly hoping that this room would go overlooked, bypassed and unnoticed by his pink-haired companion.
The old door groaned loudly as Sakura opened it, a musty smell emitting from within. It was the smell of dank, dust and disinfectant—the third failing at hiding the other two. A presence seemed to come from the room which Sakura beckoned for him to enter, something foreboding and forbidden, and he could see in his mind's eye the darkness that was beyond the opening, longing to swallow him like a large gaping maw. He felt his body tense up from head to toe, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Even though he had been living in the house with Sakura for two weeks, he hadn't yet set foot in this room, and had avoided doing so at all costs. Yet now it seemed inevitable, and he would be forced to enter the room that held such horrible memories.
"Sasuke?"
Her tone was questioning. He didn't blame her. It was a regular room, completely normal, how could she have the same connotations towards it as he did? He moved one foot about six inches forward, but then stopped, his feet seeming glued to the ground through some unnatural force. There was a discomforting pause—a silence that seemed to emit from the very room before him, threatening to devour them.
"…You don't have to go in here if you want," she said quietly after a moment, and he started slightly at the comment.
"I'll go in," he told her firmly, taking another step forward.
He hated himself at that moment for being afraid. When was the last time Uchiha Sasuke had been afraid? A long time ago, and it wasn't of an empty room. He forced his legs to move against their will and enter the old room. There had been light fixtures in the ceiling, but in his mind, they were turned off, the room dark just like the time when he opened it to smell the stench of bloodshed.
Sakura had dropped his arm, and he secretly wished she hadn't—he felt isolated now, vulnerable. Automatically his right hand traveled to his left shoulder; he did not lay his hand on the curse mark, but instead on a streak of scar tissue that ran across his shoulder. Itachi's shuriken had sliced him there, when he was eight years old. Almost nine had passed since then, yet he could still feel the sting of the wound as clearly as if it were open at that very moment.
The palms of his hand became moist, and this throat constricted oddly, his body stiffening up again. There had been blood… He had seen it as he lay on the floor sobbing, the red liquid trickling down along a crack between floorboards—it was his parents' blood. His left hand was clenched into a fist, and his right one was squeezing his shoulder so hard that it felt like his collarbone would break under the pressure. He felt nauseated—sick; the memories washed over him so heavily that he could see the events replaying right before his eyes.
"Why?" he murmured so quietly that only he could hear himself, "How?"
Just to see if I could do it.
"Sasuke!"
He was harshly jolted back to reality as Sakura called out to him. He had completely forgotten about her presence, and now that she had spoken his name, the memories seemed to fade back into the past instead of the present. He extended his hand out to the direction of her voice, and she grabbed onto it immediately, running her thumb over the back in a reassuring way. He held it tighter than necessary and focused his attention on it, but the memories refused to leave his mind.
"Let's not stay here," she told him after a moment, and she tugged on his hand suggestively, but he did not move, "Come Sasuke."
Giving a sharp pull, she took him from the room, closing the door firmly behind them. The threatening atmosphere that engulfed him was instantly dispelled as the door banged shut, and his limbs relaxed again, his throat loosening up. The feeling of sickness passed, and in the ensuing silence, he could hear the falling rain. It was then he realized that his hand was still clasping his shoulder, and he knew that it was probably badly bruised. Motioning for Sakura to take him elsewhere, neither of them said anything—she probably didn't even know what was wrong with him. Little did Sasuke know that as soon as Sakura had flicked on the lights to the room, she had seen the dark bloodstains smeared on the wooden floor.
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