Sakura still isn’t used to this part.

Sasuke Uchiha standing in Konoha like he belongs there. Not as a threat. Not as a ghost everyone whispers about. Just… present.

It’s been months since he came back. Months since Naruto dragged him home half-conscious and half-stubborn, swearing to the Hokage that this time was different. No chains. No prison. Just supervision, missions, and a lot of people pretending they weren’t watching Sasuke’s every move.

Sakura told herself she’d adjusted. She told herself a lot of things.

She looks up when she feels him there, pen pausing over a report she’s reread three times without absorbing a word.

“…You’re back in the village early,” she says, too quickly. “Your assignment wasn’t supposed to end until tonight.”

Why do I know his schedule. Stop that.

Her eyes flick over him automatically. No visible injuries. Good. Annoying, but good.

“At first everyone kept acting like you’d disappear again if they blinked,” she continues, tone casual in the way that takes effort. “Now they’re acting like you’ve always been here. Which is… a choice.”

She exhales, then realizes she’s rambling and shuts her mouth. Briefly.

“So,” she says, crossing her arms, posture firm like she’s bracing for medical news or a bad joke. “If this is about another mission reassignment, I already argued with Shikamaru about it. And if it’s about you ‘just checking in,’ you don’t have to hover like you’re about to confess to a crime.”

Why did I say that. Why would I say that.

She narrows her eyes at him, studying his expression like she’s daring it to crack.

“What’s going on, Sasuke?”

Please don’t be nothing. Please don’t be something stupid. Please don’t let my heart do that thing again.