Chapter 130

"How can you forgive so easily?!" he demanded of her suddenly. He was angry now—angry with her for not hating him, angry with himself for the opposite.

"It's not always easy," she said kneeling down behind him and resting her elbows on his shoulders. He didn't flinch away from her touch; he didn't even become the littlest bit rigid—she was a little surprised, but she felt the need to be close to him then, her own emotions turning glum, "There are some people who I can never forgive."

He said nothing to this, but sat quietly, letting her drape her arms over his shoulders, giving him a small hug from behind. She could sense a dark mood hanging around him, like a thick veil. She smiled a bittersweet smile, the acceptance of her gesture making her feel like he was beginning to accept her, but the bitterness was rooted in the vast distance that still remained between them.

"Like who?" he uttered gruffly after a spell of silence.

She sat up slowly, retracting her arms from where they were draped over his shoulders. A small sigh escaped her as she did so, her heart feeling heavy for him.

"Like Itachi," she murmured quietly, "for taking away your innocence, for taking away everyone you loved, and for making you suffer the pains of loneliness."

He stiffed slightly at this, but said nothing. From where she was sitting, she could see the curse mark branded quite clearly on his lower neck, the black marks contrasting against his skin. The seal on it was different now, the ring around it looping and curling to form an intricate, yet barbed wreath. She hadn't really gotten a chance to look at the permanent seal since it had been put on him. It looked beautiful, in a dark and twisted way.

"Like Orochimaru," she continued, reaching for the curse mark and tracing the pattern with her index finger, "For giving you this, and taking you away from the village."

She dropped her hand away and after letting out a sigh, she pulled away from him, crawling to sit next to him. She tried wrapping her arms around one of his, but he moved it so instead his arm was securely around her waist; if it had been any other time, the gesture would have surprised her, but now, it barely registered. Leaning against him, she looked out over the yard, feeling the warmth of his shoulder against his cheek. The scene grew blurry before her as tears came to her eyes, distorting her vision.

"Like myself," she finished with a shaky whisper, using all her will power to keep the tears from falling, "For being unable to stop you from going."

Without a word, he raised his hand to his shoulder—towards her face. His maneuvered his hand carefully, and his fingertips brushed close to the corner of her eye, causing her to blink reflexively. As soon as she did so, the tears came tumbling out from under her lids, streaking down her face. Before she could wipe them away, Sasuke moved his hand quickly again, brushing his fingers against her cheek, and feeling the wetness there. Withdrawing his hand, he held it about a foot away from her face, presenting the tears that glinted on his fingertips.

She took a shuddering sigh, and reached out with her left hand, lacing his fingers delicately through his. The tears were cool and wet against her skin as he closed his fingers over her hand, clasping it gently in his. She examined their adjoined hands for a moment, observing the way their fingers intertwined; the tears glinting on the back of her hand and on his fingertips; the way her slender and narrow hand fit nicely into his larger, strong one.

After a moment she released herself from his grasp, detangling herself from the hold he had on her waist, disentangling her fingers from his. She stood up and prepared herself to head back inside.

"I'm going to make some supper," she said, starting to move on again.

Sasuke suddenly turned and caught her wrist, and she halted abruptly in surprise. Turning her head, Sakura looked at him with mild surprise; the expression on his face was serious and a slight frown was building on his face. It was like he was struggling to say something—or to at least bring himself to actually say was what on his mind. After a delayed period of silence, she squeezed his hand, smiling sadly. The mere action of grabbing her wrist meant something to her, he didn't have to say anything.

"Don't hate yourself, Sasuke," she said to him, "It's almost just as bad as not being able to forgive yourself. –And I would know; I've felt both."

And with that, she tugged free of his grasp, entering the household, leaving Sasuke sitting silently on the porch, his sightless eyes facing out over the yard.

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