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Sakura blinks lazily at the sound of kunai being rallied and clanging against Sasuke's katana around practice. She doesn’t mind coming to watch her teammates spar or visiting her teammate's family like it’s nothing but a late Sunday morning. It’s not like there’s much she can do but wait for Sasuke to tire himself out and then watch Naruto volunteer himself to be thrown across the - frozen - Uchiha clan lake with Itachi hot on his heels, however, today, feels a bit different.
The speed of Sasuke's movements causes her head to throb, the colors blurring one after the other and the sun is much brighter today than it was yesterday. Or was it always like this?
Maybe because it's winter—the sun is always brightest in the colder months.
Faintly, she can hear Naruto laughing and Sasuke’s threats to throttle his older cousin ring in her ear like hospital bells.
That’s all it was faint, a whisper at most and it passes over her head without a second thought it might have been worrying if she paid attention, but she isn’t.
“—water?” Naruto sounds garbled, but that might be because he’s out of breath.
Wordlessly, she hands him his water bottle from the side and Sasuke from the other side. Sakura thinks she might need some too, her throat dry and her face hot. It’s the lighting, she wonders if they can ever get tired. Of sparring, of training—more importantly in the dead of winter. High noon where the sun is at its highest and the shadows are more prominent against the blinding white of the snow, of the ice.
Stupid sun, Sakura thinks childishly, once the sun goes behind the clouds, she wouldn't feel so hot.
Because snow is beautiful and clear, but against the sun it's a beaming strand—blinding.
“—ramen? Or BBQ?” Naruto asks her a touch confused, beads of sweat run down his jawline and drips onto his jumpsuit; slowly.
Sakura takes a moment, blinking slowly, and nods, “Yeah.”
She doesn’t know just what exactly she’s agreeing to, but it sounds like food and the faster they get out of the heat the faster she can curl up in her bed or maybe the floor. Maybe not in that order, but maybe—maybe she can do both.
“—stop,”
Sakura blinks again.
Her line of vision shifts when another face covers the other quarter. The outline of black shifts to gray, then to blue, and then to Shisui.
Shisui who crouches in front of her, Shisui who locks eyes on her glassy ones, Shisui who shoves her idiot teammates back to give her space, Shisui whose hands press against her knuckles, Shisui who leans into her face, and Shisui who presses his forehead against hers.
Shisui.
It is Shisui who surrounds her senses, her thoughts, her vision—even if it is, just for those few moments.
The world melts away from them.
“She has a fever,” Shisui says suddenly, it edges around concern and drifts somewhere between frustrated and understanding. He doesn’t move away, his lips just a few centimeters away from hers, “It’s pretty high. Get me her water bottle, Naruto.”
He opens the bottle after one of her teammates hands it to him, he pours some water into the palm of his hand and presses it to the back of her neck. He has to be careful not leave her coat exposed to the frigid air, if any snow fell onto her skin, it would numb the area and make her fever worst. At least with his wet hand on the back of her neck, he could control the temperature.
"How does she not know she's sick? She's a medic!" Sasuke complains faintly in the background, and she doesn't need to turn her head to hear Itachi scold him—she could feel it.
That, and annoyance.
Sakura shivers at the coldness but relishes in the cool temperature—which is confusing at least since it's winter. She stares at him for a moment, realizing sluggishly, that she hasn’t said anything, “Shisui?”
He leans away and frowns, “You need to take better care of yourself.”
She huffs but cannot say anything—her temper overwhelming her senses.
“Hey,” Shisui is closer to her now, not necessarily forehead to forehead – unlike earlier – and presses his thumb against the pulse-point against her wrist. He lifts the bottle up and helps her sip the water. His eyes are sharp and steady as he watches her take small sips, “Steady.”
Naruto and Sasuke share a look when Shisui takes off his beanie and puts it on her head.
“M’ fine,” Sakura mumbles and pushes the bottle away—she tries to take off the beanie, but Shisui would not have it. Instead, he purposefully tucks it over her ears and adjusts her hair until he's satisfied with the position.
“No,” he sighs and scoops her up from the porch. He fixes the rest of her team a look, “Go clean up and brew some tea, Sasuke. The one that Mikoto-obaa uses for the winter. Itachi, I need you to call Shizune-san for a house visit.”
Sasuke presses his lips together at the brisk order, but Naruto grabs the back of his shirt and tugs him along—Itachi disappearing into the trees.
“I’ll take you home after she clears you,” Shisui tells her quietly, shyly, because he really must think about what he’s doing, he presses one hand on the opposite side of her cheek and tugs her closer. Firm, yet soft, he tucks her into the crook of his neck, “Rest. I have you.”
And he starts moving once he's secured her against his chest—slipping off his boots as he enters the foyer.
Sakura will think about this in a few days, later, when the edges of her reality aren’t frayed at the edges, and her head doesn’t want to explode. Later, when she’s clear and coherent she’ll think about how thoughtful and gentle Shisui is.
Later, she’ll figure out a way to thank him for his kindness.
But for now, Sakura will lay against him and gather some strength, his scent a whisper of home.
