Snippet 2

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Sasuke seeks comfort to his wife.

-ꕤ-

"He wouldn't talk to me."

...

"Did you think slapping him was wrong?"

...

"...No, he shouldn't have said that, it was insensitive."

...

"How annoying." He chuckled, as he recalled a certain memory when he was a genin.

Sasuke took a deep breath as he tries to form sentences in his mind.

"Sarada went to talk with him right after I left."

...

"He got your personality."

A gush of wind was heard.

He slowly closed his eyes and leaned at the cold, stone grave that carved the name of his wife.

A decade has passed, but to Sasuke Uchiha, the ache for longing has never once died.

Should he hate it? He couldn't, that painful feeling is proof of their connected feelings-

is what he likes to believe.

He stood up, embracing the night sky.

"I should go. I'll try to talk with Sachirou again."

Raising two fingers, he reached for her tombstone and gave a poke.

"See you next time, tsuma."

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