SasuSaku Month 2017 – Day 3 – Chemistry

s-asuke:

SasuSaku Month 2017 – Day 3 – Chemistry

AU in which the Hyuuga were somehow infected / harmed by Kaguya and their Byakugan is weakened. Yuuno Hyuga is an OC. I think Bout this becoming a multi-chap story. If you would like it to become one, send me a request, PM or just simply reply to this post!! Feedback is love!!

Warnings: mild nsfw (Sasu’s thirsty ass is my thirsty ass ok)

“Sometimes you just gotta relax, yeah? And we have so many missions lately, so just being at the onsen with you, Sai and Sakura-chan would be ideal, watcha think?”

His favorite moron was waing four golden-lined cards at him, his Sharingan nearly wanting to shoot a few black flames at the annoying cards. Ah, destiny was so cruel. Naruto Uzumaki just told him that the Rokudaime has ordered Sasuke, and the rest of the Team 7, to go to hot springs and relax. Fucking impossible, Sasuke ponders, all the while staring at the jelly he was supposed to eat. “C’mooon, teme, it would be pretty good for us! We haven’t had a vacation since the war!”

Sasuke doesn’t say anything to the comment that jabs his heart. “Naruto, don’t be an idiot. We have a lot of work. And just because I healed Neji, and the main family does not mean we can lay back and relax!” Naruto’s cheerful expression visibly falls, but gets back up quick, not minding Sasuke’s stern demeanor. His strict, grayish eyes, color watered down by tiredness, stare at the blue, whose are nearly scared? Sasuke softens, recognizing the fear that Naruto’s orbs held – the aftermath of war was almost as terrifying as the war itself.

Kaguya cast a rather potent jutsu that manifested quickly – a month after the war. Only Byakugan users were in danger – and so it seemed only a Sharingan could heal them. Which made Sasuke get out of the prison pronto, since not even Tsunade could heal this one. Their discovery of his possibly life-saving kekkei genkai was made with a help of the most revolting person. Orochimaru edo-tenseied Madara Uchiha, the only Uchiha privy to all nooks and crannies of any doujutsu. The man had a few exausting, snarky and sarcastic sessions with Sasuke – having only heard of the issue in legends and myths of his clan. At last with much bitching (they just had to summon Hashirama so he’d calm the man down, he didn’t hear the end of it) Sasuke was explained with much emotional pain from Madara’s side how the only special ability he had ever seen to a Mangekyou Sharingan were the ones the user could develop aside the original three; ones like Kamui and his younger brother Izuna’s Healing eye, which could heal and nurture any kind of disability and disease. The only irony laying in the predicament of him not being able to heal himself. Madara said that on a whim, it could cause people to even lose memory, and since those abilities were all passed down to Sasuke by blood. Madara was very well acquainted with what Sasuke could do (he seen it in war and he had a peek at the family tree).

“Hmph.” The rowdy haired man would note, Sharingan passing over the scrolls. “What,” Sasuke became rather impatient as of now.

“It says here, that you are related to Obito Uchiha.”

“And?” Sasuke hides his annoyance by the fact. “That means you are related to me, too.” Dead serious, Madara waits for a reaction from the younger Uchiha. “His grandmother was my illegitimate daughter. I didn’t know she existed until I met Obito. And that, Sasuke, means,” he traces the line that intwines with other Uchiha, passes crossings and other details until it lands on Fugaku Uchiha, “that you are my great-great-great, many greats, grandchild. Did someone from the clan continue with a specific powerful Mangekyou Sharingan?” Sasuke answers quickly, leaving no room for any remark,“Father had a Mangekyou. He was hiding it, so the clan wouldn’t force him to use it to control the Kyuubi.”

“Only a weak leader would allow his followers to dictate him. That’s straight-out moronic.”

Ignoring Madara and his own clear bout of rage, Sasuke continues.

“There was also Shisui of the Teleportation, he had an amazing Body Flicker Tehnique, and only Ita- my brother could match him in genjutsu. He also had a particular tehnique which he had done with his Mangekyou, Kotoamatsukami, he could manipulate a person’s mind and make it seem as if the decisions he would implant in their brain were their own. My brother had a Mangekyou, and had extraordinary abilities even as a young boy. That’s all.”

“Ooh. Would you look at that; Shisui was Kagami’s boy. I bet that he inherited the Amatsukami from him. Or a variation thereof. It doesn’t matter, even if the kid would be interesting to fight,” Madara muses, fingers languidly passing the scrolls, ignoring Sasuke’s questioning gaze. “Is your brother the one who slaughtered the entire clan with Obito’s help and joined Akatsuki?“asks without raising his head from the scroll. "Aa.” Sasuke’s dry remark doesn’t put Madara off, and Sasuke was prepared to talk about uncomfortable things. “Interesting.” It’s silent for a bit, and then he asks something very weird. “What about your mother? Mikoto Uchiha? Did she awaken her Mangekyou?”

“Hn. I have no knowledge of such a thing.”

“I suspect that she has.”

“And how did you come to such a conclusion?” Sasuke is sceptic, but Madara mentions nothing of it.

“This person, Naori Uchiha, is related to her through here, and she also has the blood of my mother’s sister. My mother had a great fighting power, and I even suspect she has awakened her Mangekyou before me. Your mother had a healing prowess or something?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Very well then. I am about to teach you a very taxing healing technique, assuming that Orochimaru has taken my eyes post-war.”

“How can you assume such a thing?”

“It’s too great of a power for him to possess, at this point. He has my Rinnegan, probably both. Since they have mutated and I am dead, I have no use for them. You will absorb them rather simply: like you do jutsu. Then come back here since we have no time to waste.”

“Sasuke. I am… grateful. You know I am. But…”

“Ugh, fine! I will come!”

“Yas! I knew you would admit defeat, ‘ttebayo!” Naruto shouts triumphantly, pumping his fist in the air, shoving Sasuke sideways in the process.

“HEY! NARUTO!”

“Heh, heh, sorry, Sasuke…”

“You will be!”

=

It’s a lonely night, as always, in the small complex Sasuke lives in. He is plagued by thoughts – a thing far more terrifying than any jutsu. Breathes in. Out. In again. Numerous times just thinking about the action… and the house feels vastly big and lonely…

Somebody’s voice he wishes to hear, somebody’s heartbeat he wants to sleep on… he despises himself for it, but his dreams just aren’t safe when he doesn’t sense another person breathing, fighting, yielding, relaxing, dreaming, sighing, saying, ‘Sasuke-kun, did you put away the food? The bread will go stale if you don’t…’, voice like a ring, small and everpresent, orbiting around him like a navigated fireball, the kind his mother liked to show him and Itachi when they were kids.

“Sasuke Uchiha-san.” From his sofa in the living room, he can hear them: two ex-ANBU, now Jounin, looking to take him to the Hokage’s. He doesn’t expect himself to be so fast as he readied his clothes and his headband, a wave of nostalgia shooting through him as his chakra flares.

They are there quickly – Kakashi’s silent and tired silhouette welcoming them wearily, Sasuke finding the literal sunshine emanating off the people awaiting annoying.

And, well, endearing.

Sakura’s pink, now slightly longer hair that is the lead role in his wildest dreams and nightmares is in a braid, the toned muscle she has covered by a thin summer dress, no trace of her headband. The summer dress was so light and tight, it made him want to sallivate.

“Here he is, all ready for a mission. Didn’t I tell you we might have some problems with him, Kakashi-sensei?”

“Well you must have mentioned,” the silver-haired Hatake smirks underneath the mask, favoring the presence of his former students plus Sai. Naruto’s comments are only natural to Sasuke, so he gives no reaction. “Naruto, this is a mission, after all. A mission of you four relaxing!” Good-naturedly putting his hands on his hips as he stands up from his chair, Kakashi looks over each of them. “Sai doesn’t even know what the word vacation means… Sasuke thinks it’s a tropical animal probably. God knows you need one, Sakura… and as for you, Naruto…” trailing off, as if not knowing whether he is finding a good word or not, he coughs up a bile,“we all know you deserve one.”

“Hurrah!” Loud exclamating of the blonde moron positively burst Sasuke’s eardrums, he wonders what did he do to deserve this. But, in a second, he doesn’t like the answer to the question.

“Sakura-chan, Sai, Sasuke! Let’s go to the hot baths and have a vacation like never before!”

=

Somehow, Sasuke is content.

The futons they sleep on in the beautifully furnished inn are warm and comfortable, and he only remembers that the comfort of his own bed could rival it.

So why does he fucking avoid it like plague?

Because he is already plagued. Shit got real the night he finally realized that Sakura’s hair is the softest fucking thing, that she reads him like a book, knowing how he breathes, all the things he hates (there’s too many), how he doesn’t like to eat ramen if it isn’t with Dobe, or her. How he can’t tolerate his eyes being nearly boiled out of his skull while Hyuga fucking Yuuno is worried about her ponytail. The utmost respect and damn near adoration for her skill and passion for medical ninjutsu, loyalty to the quite annoying person who has taught it to her, and all the nights he would make his small patrols to find her under the light of a candle, reading yet another scroll on headaches and how to remedy those caused by Rinnegan of all things, and it’s their little secret.

There is the second type of plague.

When he can’t stop thinking about how warm her eyes are, and how aflame they would be if he just sucked on her most secret place, there, in the crook of her inner things, and he would sigh, because she’d be all warm and wet and-

Crap. He earned himself a hard-on.

He thought of her as a specific kind of medication one couldn’t take a little more than just prescribed, because if they did – he would be addicted. Like the heady scent of chemicals – so inviting, but capable of doom.

He would take not the prescribed amount – he would take so much his doctor would scream at him to stop.

And he would like to make her scream soon.