SasuSaku OneShots

🌸Necklace🌸

[Modern AU, angst, bittersweet]

He stares at the necklace. His eyes are blank and emotionless. And he's picking at the pendent the rests at the end of the chain absentmindedly. His eyes trail up the chain of the necklace to the dried up blood that never seems to come off of it, no matter how hard he tries. His eyes begin to wander down, back to the pendent and suddenly he's wondering if the pendent has always been—

"Hey, mister," a little girl interrupts his thoughts. "The rest of the café is full, is it okay if mama and me sit down here?" She points to the empty booth seat in front of him.

He turns his attention away from the necklace and looks at her. "Free country," he shrugs.

"Sarada!"

He turns his attention back to the necklace resting in his hands; the same hands that couldn't save him, the same ones that killed him. His finds himself distracted once again when someone taps his shoulder.

"I am really sorry about my daughter. I hope she didn't bother you . . ."

He doesn't pay heed to what the woman is saying, instead, he finds himself wondering how a woman can have eyes that shade of green. He's never seen eyes that green or clear before. These eyes he's looking at are so untainted, innocent. He wishes his could be that and they were, but that was a long long time ago.

He watches the woman takes her hand and places it in her daughters and turns to leave. And suddenly he finds himself responding back to her.

"You could sit here if you'd like."

"It's alright," she gestures to her to-go-bag, "I can eat at home."

He opens his mouth and then closes it, trying to think of a response.

"It'll probably be cold by the time you get home," he shrugs. "And besides I probably look like a complete idiot sitting here by myself, maybe you could help me with that."

"Thank you," she softly says.

He doesn't pay attention to the woman or the kid sitting in front of him. He's closed off and back to staring at the necklace in his hand.

The woman and the kid—Sarada—leaves after a few minutes and he's back by himself again. He takes his eyes off of the necklace and looks around the café. His first mistake was removing his attention from the necklace. The walls are closing around him, his mouth is dry and for some reason he can't seem to remember how to breath. His breaths are becoming shorter and quicker. His eyes are bouncing around in their sockets and then he sees him. And suddenly he finds himself flying out the door.

Once he's far enough from the café, he slows down his pace. He's now walking past a park and he stops for a minute to hear the little kids sing the song for their game.

"Ashes! Ashes! And we all fall down!"

Down. He fell down too. And in the worst possible way too. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, eyes wide and going at pace that would be considered suspicious.

He goes home and tries to sleep for the rest of the day or just maybe . . . forever.

The next day he goes grocery shopping. As he grabs the supplies he needs, he plays with the necklace in his pocket. While waiting in the checkout line, he feels a small tug on his shirt.

"Do you remember me, mister," he looks down to see the kid from the café from yesterday. His eyes trail over her and he sees him in her. Not through looks, but by their stature. This little girl carries herself the same way he did. The lights catch her glasses and he can't help but think of how her glasses are the same exact shade of his blood. He looks away, back to the line in front of him.

"Hey, mister," the kid is persistent, he doesn't like it. "What's you work as? My mama's a doctor!"

"Sarada," he hears the kid's mother warn.

"I'm in the army," he looks at the kid.

"My papa's in the army too! I think," she scrunches her eyebrows together. "But aren't army people supposed . . . to um . . . not be here."

"I'm on a temporary leave."

"Why?"

Why. He doesn't what to think about it. He doesn't want the memories to come back. He drops his basket of groceries and leaves the store, ignoring the kid. He's not so lucky. The memories hit him with blast. He closes his eyes and punches the nearest thing; a brick wall. He watches as the blood on his newly damaged knuckles drip onto the floor.

He goes home and drinks until he passes out.

He encounters the little girl and her mother a week later.

This time the kid doesn't notice him. He's twirling the necklace in his pocket and at the same time he's watching the little girl talk to thin air.

"Hey, kid," he doesn't know why he's talking to her.

"Oh! Hey, mister," she smiles. And it's so bright. He can't smile like that, but he wishes he could. His mouth is set to a permanently straight line.

"Who're you taking to?"

"My papa," she answers. "Why you can't see him?"

"Afraid not," he chuckles, but it sounds more like nails than a laugh. "I thought you said your papa was in the army?"

"He is. But he always comes to see me," she scratches her forehead. "I wonder why you can't see him."

"I wonder that too." He doesn't. He knows why. The kid isn't talking to a real person. "What's your papas name? Maybe I know him." She looks at him strangely. "Y'know. Because I'm also in the army."

"Sasuke Uchiha," she answers.

He readies himself for the bullets to pass through him. It doesn't. He opens his eyes and looks up to the figure in front of him.

"Idiot, you need to pay attention. This is war."

"Sasuke!"

He catches Sasuke's body as it falls to the floor.

"Sasuke!" he yells.

"This is yours," he takes the necklace out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"Papa, has necklace just like this!" She exclaims. "But how come . . ." It's as if she finally put all the puzzle pieces together. "This was papa's, wasn't it."

He nods and swallows. "Yeah. He was my best friend."

"Sasuke!" He yells again. "Don't you dare die!"

"My necklace," the bloody figure croaks.

"Now's not the time, Sasuke." He rips off apart of his shirt and tries to slow down his friend's bleeding.

"I want you to give it to her."

"No!" Tears are running down his face. "You're gonna be fine."

"Idiot," his friend's breathing is becoming more shallow and the cloth on his wound is getting more soaked by the second. "Give it to Sakura . . . give . . . Sarada."

"Sasuke!" He's not breathing and he doesn't feel a pulse.

"Does that mean . . ." She trails off.

"Yeah," he says. "But he loved you and your mama very much."

"How do you know that?" She asks and he could see all the curiosity behind those big dark eyes.

"He never shut up about you and your mama," and for the first time in months he lets a small smile spread onto his face. "Even in death, his last words and thoughts were about you and you're mama."

The kid is crying. He doesn't make any notion to wipe them away, because, after all, he's crying too.

"Hey, mister?"

"Yeah."

"What's your name."

"Naruto Uzumaki."

~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by perfectlyinsane-