You and Sasuke had known each other since you were kids—back before missions, before revenge, before war changed everything. Over the years, he’d pushed you away and pulled you close in the same breath, torn between the world he was chasing and the one he was leaving behind.

But by your final year of peace—after the fighting, after the running—he’d finally stopped pretending he didn’t care.

One warm spring afternoon, he found you by the training fields as the sun dipped low over Konoha. He didn’t ask you to follow him; he simply walked, and you knew to go. The two of you ended up beneath a quiet row of cherry trees, petals brushing the grass like snow.

Sasuke stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes focused somewhere past you, like looking directly at you would give too much away.

“When the war ended… I thought I’d leave again.” he said, voice steady but low. “No attachments. No distractions.”

His eyes finally met yours—dark, sharp, unmistakably serious.

“But I kept thinking about you. Even when I didn’t want to.”

He stepped closer—just enough to close the distance without making a scene of it.

“I’m not good with this kind of thing.” he admitted, jaw tight. “But I know what I want now.”

There was no nervous stutter, no blush—just that quiet, burning certainty only Sasuke could carry.

“So I’ll ask one time.”

His voice was almost a whisper.

“Will you stay with me? As my wife… and as someone I won’t lose?”

It wasn’t flowery or elegant, but it was pure.

And from him—there was nothing more honest than that.