Clean Through

It's disappointing but what had he been expecting? He understands just how Sakura's parents really feel about him—the villagers don't exactly make it a priority to keep their glaring disapproval of his life a secret. But as Naruto walks home alone, hands clasped behind his head, he wonders for the first time what they might have told Sakura about him and how much of it she's listened to. He sighs, but doesn't want to believe that after all these years she could somehow not know him for who he truly is. She's one of the two people he's given himself fully to, offered everything—the good and the bad and the insecure—because the connection was worth it, so for her to not know. . . that might be a little too heartbreaking. So he doesn't think on it anymore as he shuffles along in silence, kicking at small rocks along the way to his empty, dark apartment.

Instead he decides that tomorrow he'll pester Tsunade for a mission (even a low ranking one) because he needs something to do besides worry over his former teammates all the time. If it was up to him, he'd be doing something—anything—to get Sasuke back, but with no information to go on for a location, there's not much he can do except wait and train. If he had just been strong enough to bring him back last time. . . He grits his teeth at the thought. He'll make sure the next time is different—even if it kills him.


Sakura is halfway up the stairs when her father says, “I'm sure I don't need to reiterate mine and your mother's policy on dating.”

She pauses, not wanting to look back in case her face betrays her. “No ninja. I know, daddy.”

The rule's never bothered her before, in fact it was a nice excuse to finally offer Lee so as to avoid hurting his feelings, but for some reason the words feel sluggish and heavy when she speaks them now.

“Then want to explain what you were doing out there?”

Sakura does turn then, sighing because she's too tired to plaster on a fake smile but doesn't want this to turn into another late night argument. Her parents haven't quite caught up to the fact that she's effectively outgrown their parenting attempts even at this age. The fact is, she left her childhood behind the moment she became a ninja. “Naruto walks me home on nights I work at the hospital. You know that, daddy.”

“Sakura,” he's using that tone, the one that says he doesn't appreciate being lied to. But she's not lying. Not really. “I might not be ANBU, but I wasn't born yesterday. We said no ninja and we mean just that. It's for your own good, hun. You need someone who can be there for you, all the time, not just when they're free from missions.”

She clenches her jaw at the hypocrisy of it, but keeps quiet as he continues. I'm not a child anymore. But she doesn't say it. She never does.

“You don't want to always be wondering if your husband will return safely this time, be there to raise your children and provide for your family. And besides, that boy is—”

What? That boy is what? She feels her temper flare suddenly and irrationally as she realizes that she doesn't want to hear what he's about to say. “That's funny,” she cuts in dryly. “You had no problem with my pursuing Sasuke-kun.”

Her father frowns, voice rising as he answers, “And look how he turned out to be. That Uchiha is a missing-nin now, a traitor to our village.”

“Don't. Don't you dare talk about Sasuke-kun!” She's practically screaming, hot tears springing up at just the mention of his betrayal, and she is angry, so very angry. At her father, at herself—for still allowing one boy to affect her so deeply after so many years. “And don't you talk about Naruto. Those are my teammates. You have no idea what they mean to me.”

I'd give up anything for them.

“Sakura, don't talk back to your father.” Her mother stands at the end of the hallway, bundled in a pale yellow bathrobe, eyes tired as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Just what are you two arguing about now?”

“Look, honey, I know your friends are important to you,” her father says, looking a little more sympathetic after seeing her reaction. “But there are things you can't possibly understand about the situation.”

“What situation? Nothing is going on.” Her voice cracks, and she turns away, dismissing the conversation by moving further up the stairs, but before she reaches the top she adds, “Naruto is a good boy.”

She knows what her father is talking about, understands that in his eyes Naruto isn't just a ninja subject to mission dangers—he's the Nine Tails—but she isn't willing yet to admit knowledge on the topic because then they might find out how he'd attacked her unknowingly in his partial transformation. It wasn't his fault. She didn't blame him, but who knew how her parents would react.


When she finally falls asleep she dreams about Naruto. It's hot and sweaty where his bare skin presses against hers and they're in an unfamiliar bed, tangled in white sheets and pillows as his hand works furiously between her thighs. He's heavy on top of her chest. It's wet and the rhythm is perfect and when he moves to kiss her it feels so real that she actually wakes up. Somehow the kissing is always the best part.

She lies completely still, eyes scanning the ceiling in the darkness and she feels a little hollow as she reflects that it was just another dream. In the past year she's had more than a handful of them, but they were always about Sasuke before now.

Part of her wants to go to him—and say what?—but in the end she simply rolls over, willing herself to fall back into the dream. They never seem to continue or pick back up once she's woken but maybe this time will be different because when it comes to Naruto it seems like anything is possible.

(Naruto dreams of free ramen and Uchiha ghosts and being lost in a never-ending forest during the day, forgetting everything after he looks up through the branches into the blinding sun because Naruto almost never remembers what he dreams.)

And the next morning she wakes early out of habit even though it's her day off. After breakfast and a longer than usual shower, she sits down to study for a couple hours because she's sure he'll still be sleeping.


At first Naruto ignores the banging on his front door because most likely it's the landlord come to nag him about any number of complaints the neighbors may or may not have made while he was away this last time, but when it starts to sound like the wood may actually splinter and give way under the increasingly powerful pounding he jerks out of bed.

“Wha?” His eyes are half-crusted shut as he opens the door and slouches against the frame, trying not to frown. “Sakura-chan, why are you here so early? Are we going on a date today or something?”

She's already flushed from her assault on the door, but her cheeks visibly redden at his words. “You idiot! Why do you always think that first thing?” She raises her fist as if she'll punch him but instead sighs, “And besides, it's nearly one o'clock.”

A knowing grin slips across his face and he's suddenly wide awake. “I notice you didn't say no.”

She looks to the side, jaw clenched as she huffs, “Just get ready.”

He doesn't wait for her to come in, rather disappearing down the hall to get dressed as she grumbles her way into the kitchen. After a quick stop in the bathroom to brush his teeth, Naruto bounces back to her side and asks, “So, what's the plan?”

She's resting her chin on one hand, looking up at him from the table with a bored expression. “I need to run some errands.”

He plops down in the chair opposite her, pouting and already geared to resist. “Boring!”

He can complain as much as he wants, but it wouldn't be the first time he's followed her around during her shopping. He's discovered that when he carries the basket, she doesn't tell him to go away.

She actually smirks at him (and for a moment it eerily reminds him of Sasuke) and replies, “I thought you'd feel that way. So I brought this.”

“A basket?”

He examines the item as she sets it on the table, not quite understanding. He knows what it is—but that can't be right.

“It's a picnic basket, Naruto.”

Sakura's never planned something like this before so hes not sure how to respond. His blue eyes lock with hers, searching and then a wide grin splits his face. He slaps his palm down on the table and rising, beams “I knew it, Saakura-chan!”

What he knows, he'll never say.


They haven't even eaten before she's straddling his lap, pushing him back onto the blanket. She assaults his mouth like she'll devour him on the inside, but he doesn't mind. It's a neediness he's familiar with. And he's willing to give her all of himself if it'll ease her desperation even a little.

“I'm here,” he breathes when she finally pulls back. “I'm not going anywhere.”

She blushes a little and looks away.

He smiles and says, “I'm happy,” but she answers, “I don't know what came over me.”

“You don't. . . have to apologize.” He's not happy anymore as he sighs, “I told you, didn't I? You can do whatever you want, no questions asked.”

Leaves crunch beneath her weight as she rolls over onto her back and stares up into the trees. He watches her, wide-eyed despite himself and waiting for her to speak. Finally she answers, “What if I wanted you, right now?”

He can feel his face flush even in the cool breeze. “Sakura-chan. . . Someone might see.”

It's not that he'd mind; he's never been one for appearances or to care what others think, it's just that. . .

He wants to reach over, brush the pads of his fingers across her forehead, but he won't—not until he knows what she really wants from him. He's already made up his mind to let her use him, in fact, he's even done it once (and surprisingly he came out un-scarred) but only if that's what she really desires. He doesn't want to be a consequence when it comes to her.

It's true, in Konoha even the forest has eyes and ears, but somehow his reluctance bothers her. “You don't want anyone to find out?”

A soft noise of protest catches in the back of his throat, causing her to look at him but he's looking down now, teeth clenched as he fists the edge of the blanket in his frustration. “You know that's not why.”

How could she think—?

“Then why?”

She knows why; he's thinking of her—trying to protect her like always, but for some reason she wants to make him say it. Even if she knows doing so is a little cruel.

“You really don't care if people know what you're doing with me?” He looks to her, and his eyes are so intensely blue—desperate almost—that she can't turn away, can't imagine telling him anything other than what she knows he needs to hear. He's her teammate after all.

But she doesn't know the answer, doesn't understand the conflicting emotions she feels, so instead she reaches up and pulls him gently to her lips. He resists at first, stiff and scared of where this is going (he doesn't understand either, and it's all so confusing now—who he is and what he means to the people he loves), but the kiss is soft and comforting and Sakura is warm against the cool air so he finds himself melting against her, melding into her curves until he's hugging her tight against him and resting his head on her chest. He's surprised at his own moment of weakness, vaguely concerned that this might be too much but she reaches a hand to stroke through his hair, distracting like before, and he closes his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she says, brushing over the edge of his ear. “I'm being selfish.”

“I'll give you anything you want.”

The words are so soft they barely reach his own ears, and he instantly regrets saying them. Even he knows it shouldn't have to be like this.

So he's thankful when she ignores them and instead says, “Let's eat. I made sandwiches.”


Sakura gasps against Naruto's skin when he bumps her back roughly against the wall. Her arms slide tighter around him, fingers splayed across his back and she clenches her eyes shut tight where she presses her mouth against the soft flesh of his neck to quiet her screams. Her jawline aches where she grinds it against the jut of his collarbone and his breath is hot in her ear as he pants, rocking in and out of her in quick shallow pumps. She wants him; she wants him. She wants him deeper and harder, she wants her back bruised and to have imprints on her hips where he grips her, holding her up.

“Naruto.”

But she can't tell him any of this, can't speak past the whimpering of his name. It's better than the dream, better than the first night because it hurts at the same time so she knows it's real, but he never says anything and she wonders for just a half intake of breath if he's pretending she's Sasuke.

He doesn't know what to do when she starts crying afterwards.

She was wearing his jacket by the time they got back to his apartment—because it was windy and he's “hot natured” even though he actually shivered some on the walk back, and it was too big on her really but he didn't want her to take it off because it was his—and somehow her taking it off led to her taking her clothes off which led to their having sex. After all, there's no risk of being caught here so he was more than happy to fill her request.

The whole thing is probably a bad idea, but he can't bring himself to regret it. If anything he thinks he's a little happy now that he gets to share this with someone he cares so deeply for. He just wishes he knew why she was upset.

“What's the matter, Sakura-chan?”


The shop is small and crowded, lit only by the sunlight that streams in through the display windows. Naruto approaches the girl behind the counter with a half-grin and pretends he isn't tense.

“Yo, Ino.”

But he didn't come here to visit. It's only been a couple days since then (and he hasn't worked up the courage to see Sakura since), but it's been years since he set foot in the Yamanaka's florist shop.

“Naruto.” What are you doing here? He can hear the words clearly in her tone, recognizes the familiar annoyance evident in her posture as she straightens and places the fashion magazine down onto the counter top. “If you're here to pester me about forehead girl I don't have the time. I'm working.”

He shrugs, but doesn't explain that the last time he'd tried to get information out of her was nearly three years ago. He hasn't been back that long and he understands the kind of reputation he has—the impression he left on people; besides why else would he be here? It's not like he has anyone to buy flowers for.

Except that it's exactly why he's here.

He could have gone somewhere else, but he figured he might as well give Ino's family the business. Plus it's close by. “I'm just looking,” he says and ignores Ino's curious stare.

She leans forward on her stool, propping her elbows on the counter and rests her chin in her palms thoughtlessly. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He relaxes his shoulders when his back is to her, sifting through the bundled flowers aimlessly. So many scents, so many colors. He's drowning in the sea of petals but too stubborn to ask for help.

When he extracts a handful of Killarney roses, she says, “Look, Naruto, I know you don't want to hear it, but you're wasting your time.”

“Is that so?” He lets his gaze drop slowly, face hardening as he stares down at nothing and grips the bundle of stems hard enough that the thorns bite into the flesh of his hand. How many times has he coated his palm with blood? How many times has he sworn on the heat and pain and wetness that he'd never back down? His arm is trembling when he turns to receive her next words.

“Trust me. You don't want to buy those.”

They cut him because she's not a stranger. And because maybe she knows Sakura better than he does. Why? Why couldn't she love me? He wants to scream it at her, but he's stronger than that so instead when he reaches the counter he slams his fist down and offers her a determined half-smile. He won't back down. Isn't that his way of the ninja? At the least, he's certain she won't refuse his money.

His voice is thick as he says, “I think I do.”

“Hm. That's too bad.” She surprises him when she leans even closer and matches his smirk, her painted lips puckered just barely, and he can feel his blue eyes widen in the realization of her teasing. She plucks a slender stem from the vase beside her and twirls the white flower before his face, barely able to contain her peal of laughter as she explains, “Because I happen to know that Sakura loves daisies.”