My other half! Sasukex oc. [Slow updates] (under editing)

Love and realization 🔵

Sasuke's pov

It was the next morning as I felt my internal clock nudging me to wake up, as I glanced at Misaki's small frame curled up in my bed still asleep. She looked peaceful, I then frowned as I noticed the thin torn cloth on her body.

They carried the smell of antiseptic and iron, my eyes narrowed with irritation as I stood up and went to the bathroom freshen up, I stared at my reflection in the mirror as my black eyes stared back at me. I had circles under my eyes, that were dark.

After a moment I walked out and exited my room and sealed the door using chakra, making sure the "snakes" couldn't get in, and headed into the nearby town. I couldn't stand seeing her in those rags—thin, torn fabrics that smelled of the labs.

The town was a headache. Girls were already whispering and fangirling as I entered a shop, their stares following me like flies.

"Can I help you, sir?" a clerk asked, blushing as she braved the look on my face. "Are you looking for something for your... girlfriend?"

I didn't bother correcting her. "I need clothes. For a girl."

"Of course! What's her size?"

I paused, the mental image of Misaki flickering through my mind. "She's short," I said, my voice low. "She only comes up to my chest. She has a small frame, but a... curvy figure." I kept it clinical, thinking of the lithe grace she used to have when she was ten steps ahead of me in training.

The clerks looked at me with longing, whispering about what a good boyfriend I must be. They led me to a black tunic dress with a white collar and long white sleeves. It was simple, stark, and came with white shorts for underneath. It was functional. It was clean.

As I paid and left, ignoring the sighs behind me, my irritation settled into a grim determination. I would dress her in black and white—colors of mourning and rebirth—and then I would help her burn the world that had made her bleed.

The prickle of heat against my neck made me stop mid-stride in the stone corridor. The Curse Mark was humming, a low, rhythmic throb that vibrated in sync with the pulse I had left behind in my room.

She's awake.

I didn't run, but my pace quickened, my boots clicking sharply against the cold floor. The irritation from the town and the mindless chatter of the civilians vanished, replaced by a singular, sharp focus. I reached my door, my chakra flaring under my palm as the seal recognized me, and the heavy door slid open.

The room was bathed in the dim, flickering orange of the wall sconces. Misaki was sitting up, her small frame swallowed by the shadows of the corner. She didn't say a word. She just sat there, her hands clutched in the bedsheets, watching me with those fractured, crimson eyes. The silence was heavy—not the calculated silence of the strategist I used to know, but the hollowed-out quiet of someone who had forgotten how to use their voice.

I walked toward the bed, dropping the boutique bag onto the mattress. I didn't push her to speak; I knew better than anyone that sometimes words were just more weight. I simply gestured toward the clothes before turning toward the small washroom attached to the quarters.

I kept my back to her as I drew a bath, the sound of the water filling the stone tub the only thing breaking the silence. I made sure the temperature was right—hot enough to burn away the lingering scent of the labs, but not enough to aggravate her markings. When I stepped back out, I gave her a short, grounding nod and moved to the far side of the room, giving her the privacy the Leaf had never bothered to afford her.