i am destruction.

even if it takes a million days - day one

2013-06-10T14:34:46Z

Fandom:Naruto
Characters: Hatake Kakashi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 11. broken spirit & 53. haunted & mental illness: 05. post traumatic stress
Word Count: 604
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: AU
Notes: Part of a series. Written for 500themes & lover100 & mission_insane. For sequels, go to even if it takes a million days.

-

Never in her darkest dreams did Sakura expect this day to come.

How could this happen? He was her teacher, her rock, the one untouchable ideal of invincibility in her mind. There had even been certain times in the past when she was teetering precariously on the balance between life and death that she’d thought of him, and his unwavering strength. It was this thought that had given her enough strength to pull through and back to life.

But the man that now sat before her, staring blankly ahead was not that man of her memories.

Sakura took three brisk steps into the room. He didn’t acknowledge her presence. He didn’t even seem to notice the change of personnel.

“Hello, Kakashi,” she lilted, her voice oddly cheerful. “How are you feeling today?”

There was no response to her question, as she had expected. Sakura dropped down in the chair opposite him. She tilted her head slightly to the side to regard him. Though he was looking straight at her, she could tell by the blank look in his one exposed eye that he didn’t register a thing. Or didn’t care.

“I’ve brought you something, Kakashi.” As she said this, she took something out of her pouch gingerly. It was a rather tattered copy of the copy-nin’s infamous reading material. “Do you remember this one? I didn’t actually burn it.”

Sakura handed the book to the man, arms outstretched. His lone eye flickered to the orange object. It took him a few minutes to recognize the book, and in the meantime, Sakura’s arm never wavered, not even a millimetre. Eventually, Kakashi reached out to take the literature into his own hands. The familiar feel of the felt cover and the weight of the book seemed to spark a slight recognition in him, but it was gone as soon as it came. Sakura squashed the disappointment that arose within her. This was progress. Slow as it was, it was progress.

“I didn’t have the heart to burn it. It was so precious to you…” she trailed off, the fond memories of a happier time flowing into her mind. “But god, it was so irritating that you always, always read it no matter how inappropriate the occasion!”

No response.

“I remember how mad you were, even though you hid it well. But by then I knew both you and Naruto so well that it was impossible for either of you to hide anything from me, isn’t that right?”

No response.

“Anyway, I thought you might be getting awfully bored in here, and a dose of nostalgia would do you good. I always meant to return it to you one day. Don’t think I’ve forgotten all your nags about how this one is irreplaceable because it was a first edition.”

No response.

“Alright, I’ve got to head off now. But enjoy the read, alright? I’ll be back tomorrow.”

No response.

Sakura fought hard to supress both the sigh that threatened to escape and grim expression her face wanted to settle into. Instead, she forced her features into a cheery smile that seemed reminiscent of Kakashi’s old self. As she got up she gave her old sensei an affectionate pat on the head. Quickly, she turned away and in a few large, brisk steps she was out of the room.

She didn’t miss the look of pity the guard flashed her as she left. Her hands clenched into fists of their own accord when she saw this. She knew what everyone here thought, she knew what everyone everywhere thought. It didn’t matter.

She would never give up on Kakashi.

act iv; multi-dimensional

2013-06-08T13:57:14Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Uchiha Itachi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 26. immortal laughter & 43. gentle & food: 06. strawberries
Word Count: 1950
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Non-massacre AU.
Notes: Part of a mini-series, 4/10 complete. For prequels, refer to FLORIOGRAPHY. Written for 500themes & 50scenes & mission_insane.

-

There was but one person he’d encountered in this lifetime that had managed to baffle him. What baffled him more was that intrinsically, she wasn’t an enigma. No, she wasn’t mysterious in the way he, or his family made a habit of being by preferring solitude and silence. And she also wasn’t mysterious in the way that some women were, always withholding a part of themselves to fortify that image of intrigue. Quite contrarily, Haruno Sakura was as open and sociable as any person ought to be, maybe even more so.

But, for the life of him, Itachi couldn’t figure her out. Every time he thought he had her pegged, she surprised him again.

Itachi had been running an errand for his mother and on account of the beautiful weather outside, had decided to take a slight scenic detour on his way home. There was nothing expressly remarkable about the forest trail that eventually looped back to the Uchiha Compound, but there was a certain serenity to it that Itachi appreciated greatly. The path was also usually deserted, as it led to nowhere important and was remarkably inefficient as a means to get somewhere, which only made him appreciate it all the more. Just as he thought today would be no different than any other, he heard a distinct laugh ringing through the forestry, chiming with the wind and oddly soothing.

Normally, Itachi would pay no heed to something like this, but he recognized this particular laugh. And though he had never been the one to cause such a sound of mirth and pure, candid joy to fall from her lips, he had come to recognize the laugh. Her teammates often made her laugh as such, many times in his presence as well. Sakura, he thought.

The decision to move towards her wasn’t made consciously. Itachi seemed to just gravitate towards the origin of the laugh. It wasn’t that he was interested in her or anything she did…it was just as he’d surmised earlier – she was a mystery to him. Uchiha Itachi left no mysteries unsolved.

By the time he’d reached the border of the clearing she occupied, he could clearly see the reason for her radiative happiness. Surrounding the pink-haired kunoichi was a hoard of children, all in a similarly joyous state. There were three of them; two boys and one girl, roughly seven or eight years old. The girl was braiding something in her hands with a look of utmost concentration while Sakura entertaining the boys with a jutsu of some sort that seemed to involve strawberries. Itachi was sure Sakura had noticed his presence long ago, but he was taken enough by the scene to wait patiently until she addressed him.

He didn’t have to wait long. As soon as she finished the jutsu at hand, she turned her head towards him, a bright smile radiating from her face. “Itachi-san! Hello! What brings you out here?” Without giving him a chance to reply, she beckoned towards him. “Come join us!”

He did as he was bid, well aware of the three pairs of eyes watching him carefully. As he reached them, he noted that the children weren’t so much wary of his presence as they were curious.

“My loves, this is Uchiha Itachi.”

The children were silent for a moment. The girl was the first to make a move, tentatively at first. She stuck out a chubby hand towards the ANBU Captain, a shy smile on her face. “Hello, Uchiha-san! My name is Hanazawa Rika.”

Itachi took her small hands in his own. “Hello, Rika-chan.”

This seemed to break the dam as the two boys surged forward to join their friend. “Hello Mister Uchiha! Say, you look a lot like the Sasuke-san!”

The other boy chimed in as well. “Dai, you don’t know anything! Uchiha all look very similar. It’s a clan thing. You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

The boy named Dai scoffed. “As if you know anything! It’s not like you’re from some big clan either!”

“Yeah, well at least-”

Sakura chose this moment to step in-between the two boys who were inching closer to a fight. “Loves, is this how we behave?”

Immediately, the two kids were overcame with abashed expressions. “Noo,” the boys murmured in unison. “Sorry Sakura-chan! We didn’t mean to be rude.”

Itachi was slightly surprised at how much respect and love these three children had for Sakura. It was evident in the way they seemed careful not to do anything that disappointed her. They had nothing to worry about, though, it seemed, for Sakura just smiled and ruffled their hair.

“Why don’t you three go play for a moment while I talk to Itachi-san?”

Three heads bobbed in unison, and the kids wasted no time in complying. Their distress from moments earlier seemed to be completely forgotten as the two boys resumed their friendly rivalry over something or another, and the girl resumed her braiding.

Once the kids were somewhat out of earshot, Itachi asked the question burning through the air between them. “They are?”

“Orphans. I take some time out whenever I can to spend time at the orphanage – over the years I’ve gotten particularly close to these three.”

Itachi suddenly remembered her telling him that she, too, was an orphan, but decided not to comment on the connection. “That is very kind of you,” he said instead.

Sakura shook her head. “It’s not about kindness. I really do love these kids. Since they’ve started at the Academy I’ve barely had any time to see them, what with their schedule and my workload.”

“They are all at the Academy?”

“Yup! Rika always says that I’m the one that inspired them to go down that path, which makes me happy, since I can’t do much else for them,” her expression softened then. “It eases my heart knowing that they’ll be able to protect themselves as well as have a means of living in the future.”

Before Itachi could reply, Rika bounded back towards them. She held her arms behind her back, and only when she was standing right before them did she reveal what was in her hands. It was the flower headband she’d been braiding, only now it was complete. The tiny white petals looked like fragile flakes of snow, wound gingerly around each other. Itachi noticed that the flower was different than the ones Sakura wore in her hair, but the weaving pattern was the same.

“Here, Uchiha-san. You can have it!”

With surprising agility she shoved the bundle towards him. It must have been her innocent smile, because Itachi was powerless to say no. He accepted the flowers graciously, but could only hold them awkwardly in his grip, because what else was he supposed to do with it?’

A badly stifled snicker from Sakura articulated what she thought he should do with it. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when she chimed in. “Aren’t you going to put it on, Itachi-san? Rika-chan put a lot of effort into that.”

The round doe-eyes of said child blinking up at him all but screamed her wish for him to wear it. With a sigh, Itachi complied. This was so out of character for him that it even gave him a moment’s pause, but he continued with the action he’d set out to do. After he donned the flowers, he tried his best to ignore the absurdity of the situation.

Rika smiled prettily. “It looks very good on you, Itachi-san!”

Sakura laughed out loud this time as she bent down to be eye level with the little girl. “Thank you, Rika-chan! I’m sure Itachi-san loves the gift.”

“Yes. Thank you,” Itachi replied awkwardly.

“Those are my favourite flowers! They’re called Baby’s Breath. Pretty, right?”

“Indeed.”

“Sometimes Ino-chan teaches me about the different meanings that flowers have,” Rika blubbered on excitedly. Then, she frowned. “But I can’t remember what Baby’s Breath means. I’m sure it’s something awesome though! Since it’s my favourite.” Rika flashed him another toothy smile.

Sakura smiled fondly at the little girl, but the smile faded as she realized the time. “Rika-chan, go get the boys? We should get going, it’s getting late.”

“Aw, already, Sakura-chan? But Itachi-san just got here…”

“Next time, okay, sweetie?”

The sweet little girl hung her head, but nodded anyways and proceeded with her given task. Itachi, watching the genuine unhappiness marring Sakura’s features as she watched the girl head over to the other side, noted with surprise a slight feeling of gloom blooming within his own chest. No one apart from his family had ever elicited such a level of personal empathy from him before. Not that he was an unfeeling person, but his training had forced his mind to rationalize away any extraneous feelings of empathy that might hinder his performance. Itachi decided something then and there, something that would drastically change the course of his life.

Haruno Sakura was a mystery that was his, and his alone, to solve.

--

Sakura waved goodbye to the three kids now safely within the walls of the orphanage. They waved back enthusiastically, but their misery at being separated from the pink haired woman was impossible to miss. With a sigh, Sakura forced herself to turn away and begin the trek down the road. Itachi watched with great interest, carefully noting the interaction. Sakura’s empathy and capacity for love was so contradictory to her prowess as a kunoichi, yet it fit her. She was a walking oxymoron, and Itachi found the mystery to be absolutely irresistible.

As they headed down the road together, Itachi handed her the small braid of flowers that he’d since taken off his head. Sakura nodded her thanks as she took the delicate petals into her hands. She smiled wistfully as she fingered the small braid of white flowers. “I was going to mention it earlier, but these flowers actually mean innocence and purity. So fitting for Rika, yet…” Sakura looked away, towards the sunset. “It breaks my heart. I love the innocence that still surrounds them, the bliss of being ignorant of all the evil in this world. As much as I’m glad for their shinobi training, it’s heartbreaking to think that their innocence will become a casualty of their eventual power.”

“That is life, Sakura.”

“I know, which is why I also feel kind of silly. It’s inevitable, happens to all of us. But seeing their purity, I can’t help but want to preserve it for those that still have it. It’s too late our lot but there’s still hope for them.”

“That is our duty. To protect and nurture the next generation, the very lifeblood without which this village, our home, would be nothing.” Itachi said this very solemnly. “Everything we do…all that we train for, fight for, spy for…Is it not to one day create a world where our young do not have to do this?”

If Sakura was surprised by the trace amount of quiet determination she heard in his voice, she didn’t show it. Instead she bobbed her agreement. “Yes, Itachi-san. Everything we work hard for…We’re fighting for a peaceful world. A world where Rika and all those like her can grow up loved and without the influence of violence.

“It is a noble goal to work towards, one that I think most think about at times.” He paused for a moment, and added firmly, “Itachi. It is not necessary to be so formal, Sakura.”

This time Sakura did show her surprise at his words. But after a second’s shock, she smiled up gently at him. “Yes, I think you’re right, Itachi. Formality is overrated, anyways.”

And just like that, a layer of the wall that stood between them fell away.

and then, even if the sky tumbles

2013-06-08T13:52:40Z

Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy
Prompts: 51. uncontrollable wrath & 35. weight of the world & 34. wings
Word Count: 510
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Warning: Hermione-centric.
Notes: Written for 500themes & fanfic50 & quill_it.

-

She’d always known that a love like theirs was bound to incur the wrath of gods. Of what gods, she knew not, but she was sure that some type of divine retribution was in the cards for them. Sometimes she thought that it was unfair, so entirely unfair that circumstances were always against them. From the very beginning, they were destined to doom, to failure and to all obstacles beyond their control.

Slytherin and Gryffindor. Pureblood and Mudblood. Light and Dark.

Hermione stopped herself there. Superficial labels, all superficial, she reminded herself. None of those things were important – they were all just labels that society had slapped on them. That was all. She ignored the annoying voice of truth in her head that urged that it was not those things that made their love worthy of punishment. It was the betrayal of their beliefs that it embodied that broke Hermione’s heart. She knew that being with him stood for a betrayal of everything she believed in. If any of her loved ones, anyone on her side knew, her life would shatter, the pieces scattered into limbo.

Everything she’d ever put her faith and all her heart into contradicted everything he’d ever stood for, yet…Draco was oddly different. The superficial layers, the ones that made him contrast so starkly from her, they weren’t him. They were what he was bound to be, by duty and by heritage. When they were together, nothing else mattered in the world and all of that other stuff simply melted away. It was a selfish notion, she knew, but who could fault her for wanting a little of what every person craved, especially at a time like this, when the apocalypse seemed imminent?

Draco was oddly soft, despite his tough and worn exterior. He was her comfort, her reality and her saviour. Hermione had found that with every passing day, the war weighed heavier and heavier on her. Sometimes, she felt as if she would sink into the ground for all the weight on her person. And she was sure that she would have by now, if not for Draco. Most days, he didn’t even need to say anything. His presence was enough, because she knew that he understood. It was enough to lift the weight off her shoulders, even if temporarily, and propel her into the heavens for a few sweet moments of blissful recluse. Without him, she would be but a shell of a person, which made this taboo all the more heartbreaking to her.

When, and not if, her friends and family discovered their secret the sky would come crashing down in a tsunami of anger and hell on the two of them. Even knowing this, she couldn’t give him up – not her one means of escape, the one person she’d come to care so deeply for that he felt like an extension of her soul. But it was okay. She’d accepted that as part of the bargain. Even if being with Draco meant the wrath of the universe, it was worth it.

ice cream puddles

2013-06-08T13:48:45Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Uchiha Itachi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 134. emerald eternity & 24. tears & 36. melt
Word Count: 714
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Gen fic. Non-massacre AU.
Notes: Written for 500themes & lover100 & 50scenes.

-

For the first time in his life, Uchiha Itachi didn’t understand something.

More perplexing was the fact that this something had to do with a choice he’d made. Itachi had always prided himself on being a rational being. Every decision was backed by a string of rationale that always, always made sense. Anything and everything else was superficial and inefficient. That much he had proven and knew to be absolutely true.

Thus, him stopping to help that otherwise unremarkable little girl in the marketplace made no rational sense to him, even in retrospect. Even thinking it through, Itachi could come up with no solid explanation to explain why he’d done what he did. It was almost as if he’d acted without thinking, which is something he’d never, ever done before in his short ten years in this world. He suspected that even in his infancy he was a reticent being, calculating beyond his years.

Sure, she’d had flamboyant pink hair the likes of which he’d never seen before. Sure, she’d looked very sad, with big fat teardrops rolling down her cheeks. Sure, she’d looked very lost, standing there amidst the large crowd all by her lonesome self. Sure, her quivering lip and doe-like eyes had been endearing.

Itachi stopped himself there. He had no time for superficial thoughts.

Yet, he approached the girl anyways, knowing full well that whatever ensued with his decision would probably delay his real plans. It would cast an inefficient shadow on his day, something that would normally annoy him endlessly. Yet, his feet still moved him towards her, as if he felt a gravitational pull towards the sad girl standing alone holding what remained of her ice-cream cone.

It took her a moment to notice him, even as he stood in front of her. When it became clear to the little girl that he had no plans of moving on, she stopped her tears for a moment to take in his image. A hiccup interrupted the silence between them as she blinked round, teary eyes up at him.

“Are you lost, little one?” Itachi questioned finally. The girl hiccupped once more in response before shaking her head.

She pointed a pudgy finger down to the puddle forming at her feet. “My ice cream cone fell over! It was my favourite flavour.” As she said the words aloud, the thought seemed to solidify in her brain as her lips began to quiver once more and the tears resumed.

Itachi still stood at arm’s length from the girl, unsure of what to do. It was only when passing strangers started giving him odd, dirty looks that he sighed and crouched down to her eye level.
“If I buy you another ice-cream cone, will you stop crying?”

Almost immediately, the little girl brightened. “You will? Oh, that would be so kind of you!” Her bright, round emeralds shone as she said this. The crystalline tears still brimming her eyes made her orbs sparkle as threw her arms around the unsuspecting ten year old, grasping him in a tight embrace.

When she let go of him, Itachi was mesmerized for a second by the two jewels on her face, the metamorphic green captivating him as nothing as else before it.

“Follow me, then,” Itachi said as he started down the road. The little girl padded along softly beside him, no longer tearful. “What is your name?”

“Haruno Sakura!” As she said this she beamed up at him, and Itachi noted that the brilliance of her eyes seemed even more so when she smiled. “And yours?”

“Uchiha Itachi.”

“You’re so nice, Itachi-san!” This seemed to open the floodgates, as the started to chatter away at fifty miles an hour. For the second time in an hour, Itachi was perplexed as to why he wasn’t annoyed with this chatterbox that he’d just resumed responsibility for. But as she chatted away, the childish happiness that she radiated seemed to infect, him, too, for he felt more carefree than he had in years. He was sure they made an odd sight as they strolled down the street – he, a taciturn Uchiha dressed in jounin garb with a colourful, happy girl – but he didn’t mind. For once, he threw rationality to the wind and just let things be.

across the sky

2013-06-08T13:42:29Z

Fandom: A Song of Ice And Fire
Characters: Jaime Lannister
Prompts: 10. shooting star
Word Count: 428
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice And Fire.
Warning: Implied incest.
Notes: Set in A Storm of Swords, approximately around the first half of the book. Written for 500themes.

-

Jaime blinked a swollen eye up at the night sky. For days, the stormy weather had allowed for only turbulent splotches of sky to be visible, even at night, The dark patches of gray against black had been never ending for days on end.

It did nothing for Jaime’s sinking hopes, aching stump and yearning heart. It dashed all of the above into oblivion, until nearly nothing remained in his mind and heart but the icy darkness and gloominess that surrounded them in every direction.

His companions save for the oaf on guard were all snoring away, even the Lady Stark’s wench of a knight. Jaime cast a cursory glance at her, and the sight of her blonde strands, dirty as they were reminded Jaime once more of his twin. Cersei’s beautiful flowing golden locks were nothing like the Tarth woman’s butch, wayward strands, but once reminded of Cersei Jaime could think of little else.

How long had it been since he had last been with his sister?

Too long, Jaime thought. The thought alone seemed to weigh the darkness on him even more, and he could feel himself struggling to grasp at the last few fading strands of hope that he still clung to. He knew the thoughts that followed this train of thinking would end in nothing but desolation, and in an effort to rid his mind of such darkness, Jaime chanced to look up at the sky. The moon would at least be visible.

Just as he turned his eyes up towards the sky though, a trailing line of glowing light streaked through the sky, illuminating the otherwise gloomy night. It sparkled for the moment that it shone before it disappeared from his sight, towards another destination too far for his eyes to see.

Jaime was far from a sentimentalist, but he was hard pressed to explain away the slight burst of hope that reignited within him at the sight of the star. It reminded him, briefly, of the only other time he had seen such a sight in his lifetime. Barely ten years of age, sitting in the gardens back at Casterly Rock with Cersei – hands entwined – they had viewed the same spectacle. She had oohed and aahed at the sight, but Jaime had only been mildly impressed, and had all but forgotten about the star the very next day.

Seeing another one now of all times had to mean something. For the first time since they’d sawed off his most important asset, Jaime felt the will to live on burn fiercely through him.

paralysis of reality.

2013-05-03T02:15:45Z

Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Neville Longbottom & Luna Lovegood
Prompts: 35. whitewashed walls
Word Count: 906
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Character insanity.
Notes: Written for 500themes.

-

It’s craziness and insanity, but she doesn’t know. And if she did, would she care? The insanity of it all penetrates everything, through her and beyond until it’s everywhere, engulfing, drowning. She’s stuck, but it doesn’t matter – everyone’s always believed in her insanity, anyways.

Loony Lovegood, was it?

She sings, she dances and she hums to tunes no one else hears. She waltzes to the melodies of another time, and she imagines her cotton dress billowing in a field of flowers. Chirping, chirping, chirping….

“Luna?”

Is it distant, that voice? She blinks, focuses and blinks again; it’s near and dear, right before her eyes. It’s Neville, solemn and angsty Neville. She hates it when Neville is like this, all sad and glum. And so she smiles and waltzes towards him, her bony fingers reaching towards his face. “Hi, Neville dear,” and she places a light, passing kiss on his lips. “Frowning is bad, you know.”

He seems to relax, some of the tension easing out of his body. What she can’t hear, can’t know, can’t read are the thoughts driving through his mind: is today a good day? Neville can’t know for sure – he never knows, and that’s part of the mystery, and part of what is surely, but slowly driving him insane also.

Blissfully unaware, Luna is content, laughing and smiling. “What brings you here today?”

He forces a wry smile onto his face, lifting the small plastic bags in his hands into the air. “Lunch?”

The smell of food seems to genuinely delight her as she laughs and takes the food from his clenched fingers, gliding over to the table. With each passing moment more tension eases from his body – today seems good, she’s here today. But he sends a quick prayer up to the heavens, just in case.

“So what did you do this morning?” Neville asks lightly. This questions has its dangers, but then so does everything else he says – she has become so unpredictable, so unstable that anything can set her off and she’ll be gone again, unreachable to him.

“I drew this – the hysoglyphs visited with me so I drew them a present,” she beams up at him and reaches for a stack of papers. “Here – look!”

Neville doesn’t know what to expect, so he holds no expectations – in the end it’s almost like what he would have expected, had things not been so different. Even in her insanity she is gifted, the pencil sketches light and accurate, bringing to life something that never existed.

“It’s beautiful, Luna,” he breathes, always truthful to the last word.

She tilts her head with an airy smile with an outstretched hand. “It is, isn’t it?” There’s no arrogance in her words, only joy. Neville places the sketch back within her fingers, and just as he does, a bell trills through the small room. It’s a familiar noise to Neville now, and just by glancing at Luna, he knows that today, she also recognizes it for what it is.

“Time’s up so soon?” she asks with a sigh. “It feels like you just got here.”

Guilt pours through Neville upon hearing this. He did just get there. And unlike previous visits, this time it is entirely his fault that their time together is less than fifteen minutes. Fear, the all dreaded fear and her spiralling descent into insanity has him scared for his life. For her life, and it’s as if the war-jaded Neville never existed, because in his place is the cowardly, young and fearful Neville that always runs and shies away at the first sign of trouble.

He purposefully arrives late occasionally, because it’s too much for him to handle. What if it’s a bad day, what does he do for two agonizing hours? He can’t just leave her, and so the only thing he can do is watch on painfully, watching his beloved Luna fade away into a demented shadow of her former bright self.

“Sorry darling,” he says with a forced smile that doesn’t hide his guilt and agony one bit. “I’ll be back earlier tomorrow.”

There’s a pout on her lips that sends a wave of nostalgia through Neville. It’s so like herself that for a moment, he forgets that the Luna he loves is never coming back to stay. Biting back a gulp, he sweeps forward a lands a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. “Enjoy your lunch and the rest of your day too, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

She whispers a quiet okay, and unexpectedly, wraps her thin arms around him for a hug. “Come back soon, Neville.”

This time the quiet choked sob can’t be subsided and it escapes from Neville’s throat. With all his regret, anger and love he returns her embrace, nearly crushing her small frame to his, attempting to mould her body into his. In his mind he’s transferring his life’s energy to her, making her healthy just by the sheer force of his love and determination.

But too soon she pulls away, and it only takes him a second to notice the new, hazy look in her eyes. The smile still plays on her lips, but Neville knows that for today, she’s gone. His heart shatters more with every second he spends here with her like this, but he’ll return tomorrow and every day after that, until one day, he hopes that she’ll take him with her to wherever she goes.

commitment is a sin unto one's self.

2013-05-03T02:11:19Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Hyuuga Neji & Haruno Sakura & Nara Shikamaru
Prompts: 003. flashes of euphoria & unthemed 6/03. want
Word Count: 1538
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Contains scenes unsuitable for those under 18 years of age.
Notes: Written for 500themes & mission_insane. Sequel to a drumbeat to which we must all march.. Part 2/3.

-

It’s very fortunate that his injury is but a hairline fracture. Green, soothing chakra flows from her palms into his injured bone, mending the crack until it slowly bleeds back into one flawless piece. Sakura’s exhausted when she finishes, nearly depleted of her last chakra reserve but it’s still a smile that brushes across her face. On the bed, her two lovers have both collapsed into each other, battered and drained from the mission; one is snoring softly while the other is expressionless in his drug induced sleep.

Sakura watches the scene for a moment, trying to etch every single detail into the depths of her memory. Shikamaru’s peaceful expression, his singed hair and even the slight bit of drool gathering on the corner of his lips are details she imprints into her brain. After a moment, she blinks and the image fades away into reality and she climbs into the small bed with them. Shikamaru stirs slightly, but Neji doesn’t even budge an inch.

She breathes one, two and three times consciously; the last thing she notes is the large crack on the wall that starts at the base and grows until it eventually splits into three, each end further from each other than the previous.

-

The time ticks away unforgivingly, and before they know it, there are only three allowable days left. Seven spent away on the mission, and four in healing; it’s something Neji secretly begrudges himself for, a slight error in judgement that cost them dearly. But even three days is better than nothing, especially when the sweet sound of Sakura’s laughter blends with the shy smiles and smirks Shikamaru offers between chuckles fills his days.

Surprising both Sakura and Neji, it’s Shikamaru that takes the first step this time around.

They’re sprawled on the bed, absentmindedly reading; Sakura with a mid-sized medical tome, Neji with some scrolls and Shikamaru with a shogi book. They’re not exactly awkward with each other, but there’s this tension hanging in the air between them like a large elephant in the room. Suddenly the book has slipped through Shikamaru’s fingertips and replaced in his hands is Sakura, all of Sakura, roaming and exploring like a hungry lion, starved for what it needs. It catches her off guard, but a tiny squeak is all she has to show for her surprise before she is reciprocating, hands and mouth all on board as she kisses him and touches him, trying to fill that void called need.

With her heart pounding and mouth still devouring Shikamaru’s with a ferociousness borne of deprivation, she tugs away at the thin layer of clothes separating their naked bodies, not caring that his undershirt tears under the force of her hands. As his shirt is destroyed, so is hers, as Shikamaru’s hands work away at her garments with a nimbleness borne of practice, and her shirt and bra both go sailing away. The heat of the moment has her mind blanking into flashes, and suddenly her panties have also been torn away, but she is only able to gasp and moan as Shikamaru’s lips suck, tug and lick away at her hard nipples. She can feel the slick wetness between her thighs moistening as her desire to be filled takes over her mind. She grinds against his hardened member for a moment, teasing him, enjoying the feeling of it against her opening.

Ironically, Shikamaru is a man of little patience, and after just a moment of her teases, he grunts, holds her firmly by the hips and thrusts hard into her. He can feel the pleasure exploding through him as her warmth surrounds him, her tight walls contracting against him. Sakura grimaces at first at the rough entry, but with every new thrust the overwhelming feeling of being filled, laced with the pain of being so much smaller, gropes at her until she is but a mess of moans.

On some days it’s imperative that all three contribute to the hot mess that bind them together, but today, Neji plays the spectator, enjoying every last one of their moans and grunts as if they’re his own. It’s the ecstasy playing on Sakura’s face, and the beads of sweat gathering on Shikamaru’s forehead, slowly trickling down his face, dripping onto his rippling muscles as he thrusts. It’s the arch of Sakura’s back as an orgasm hits her, and their combined bliss as they pass over the edge together. But whatever it is, it delights and fulfills Neji in a way that participating can’t.

As if on cue, the two collapse into each other, limbs splashing over Neji as they finish. Sakura finally blinks open her eyes, the emeralds hazed over. There’s a devious grin playing on her pouty lips as she swoops up to catch Shikamaru’s lips in a light peck before grabbing Neji and pulling him towards her lips. Sakura also loves playing the spectator, but not today. It’s been too long, and it’s like she’s a woman possessed. In a moment she’s straddling Neji and Shikamaru is hugging her and caressing her from behind. Her left hand is in Neji’s hair, grabbing and pulling and her right is tugging behind her at Shikamaru, reaching and roaming.

It’s not long before she feels Neji’s member harden beneath her. Still wearing that devious grin, she grinds on his lap in slow, circular motions until she sees the tension and raw need surface on his face. In one smooth motion she lifts up and down, his penis gliding smoothly into her opening. Both the moan that escapes her lips and the hand motion that pushes Neji flat on his back are involuntary, by-products of her pleasure. She rides him hard, thrusting herself onto him until she’s lying atop him, grinding every part of her body against him.

And it’s like this that she feels Shikamaru all of a sudden, hands first on her behind, and then him, also inside her. A gasp of pain slips from her mouth at the impossibility of being filled twice but they grind on, pleasure and pain. The three of them move in unison, thrusting and grinding until pleasure explodes through the three of them and they all collapse, sticky and sweaty into each other. Of their own accord, their limbs wrap around each other until they’re indistinguishable from the next, and like this, wrapped in their love and ecstasy, they fall asleep.

-

It’s nearly the end, with only fifty miles separating them from the warmth of being together and the reality of their lives. They’re sitting in the same clearing they first reunited in two weeks ago, this time eating a small, casual lunch. The air is light between them, but Sakura thinks it’s quite fake. Like every other ‘casual lunch’ that was its predecessor she tries to hold strong, smiling and laughing like nothing is amiss.

But truly, all she wants to do is cry and wonder at the uncertainty of the future, if there is a future for them. She feels it every time, this imminent feeling of doom. It’s a side effect of indulging in the taboo, but even knowing this, she can’t keep it at bay. There will never be a guarantee of the next time, or even of the days left of their current tryst. She wants to grab this feeling, this tiny world of theirs and hold on to it until the end of eternity, never letting them go. She wants to hug them and monopolize them so that she doesn’t have to share them with reality. She wants to do all of those things, except she’s wise enough to know it’s folly.

Instead, she smiles and offers another piece of bread to Neji. “I think we should head out in a few minutes. It’s getting quite late.”

Shikamaru nods his acquiescence. “Ten more minutes.”

There’s a stagnant pause then, as there always is. The discussion of next time is always awkward, no matter how many times they’ve had this conversation. The deadline of their current tryst is the fine line between their world and reality, and it feels like they have already crossed back to their real lives. Uchiha Sakura, future mother of Sasuke’s children, Hyuuga Neji, father of twins and Nara Shikamaru, devoted husband of the former’s best friend.

“So,” Neji clears his throat awkwardly. “Two, three weeks?”

“Yeah,” Sakura chimes in. Normalcy is her goal. “As usual, as long as the hospital isn’t too busy.”

“Yeah that sounds good – but we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t coincide with Ino’s birthday.”

There’s something different about this time and this promise, but Sakura can’t quite put her finger to it. It might have been the slight hesitation she sensed, or the completely legitimate excuses offered, but it saddens Sakura in a way she can’t understand. And though the promises of next time fall from their lips and hearts easily, Sakura’s jaded enough to know that reality follows no promise. There’s nothing she can do except hope and cling on; except, with each passing minute, hour and day, she loses sight of what it is exactly she’s holding on to, until, she fears, one day she will be unable to remember altogether.

a gift of white

2012-12-19T18:31:34Z

Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy & Hermione Granger
Prompts: 381. forgotten sanctuary & 20. snow & 33. gift
Word Count: 400
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Notes: Written for 500themes & quill_it & fanfic50.

-

She imagined a garden of crystals and white roses, of snowflakes that drifted like petals, warm and not melting. It was a child’s dream, a place of warmth and safety that would shield her, a sanctuary for her love. It was never meant to be a reflection of reality, of what she would one day have. That would be the final wisps of a dream, teasing her, but always inches away from reality.

But now?

Hermione could barely breathe as she took in the scene surrounding her, the environment that all but enveloped her. “What-” she gasped, as she reached out tender fingers to gather a wayward flake. “What – why – how did you know?”

“You told me once. Long ago,” he paused, as if uncertain for a moment. “It was unintentional, I think.”

“Draco, I-” she faltered, at a complete loss for words. “I don’t know wh-”

“Shh,” he hushed her with a sole finger to her chapped lips. “Words were never meant for this place. It’s your haven.”

There was such sincerity in his claim that all doubt flew from her mind as she threw her arms around him, placing a light, chaste kiss on his lips. “Draco…thank you.”

Hermione untangled herself from him, and took one tentative step forwards into her gift. The first step was onto a cloud, the next a waltz across water, and every step after a climb into heaven. It was beyond surreal, all the white and purity that surrounded her, after the bloodied past they had left behind. It was like a rebirth, the way the sheer chastity of the garden engulfed her, cleansing her from the inside and out. Hermione swivelled around, the white of her dress blending in with the endless white of the background. The dazzling smile she wore was enough to make his stomach dive, even after all this time.

“Happy birthday, love.”

A ringing laugh was her only response as she bent over to pick up a wayward rose, kissing the blossom before blowing it off into the cloud of falling petals. There was a radiance that surrounded her, almost as if she glowed in the white haven he’d created. Every ounce of doubt he’d harboured while creating the place dissipated as he watched her waltz through the garden, smile widening with every step.

Let the white of this garden wash away the bleeding wounds of the war.

a drumbeat to which we must all march

2012-12-19T18:25:53Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Hyuuga Neji & Haruno Sakura & Nara Shikamaru
Prompts: 250. a story never to tell & unthemed 5/ 06. breathless
Word Count: 1817
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Notes: Written for 500themes & mission_insane.

-

Sakura peers up casually at the darkening sky, emeralds hazing over as her mind wanders the sheer nothings of the moment. There is a mundane, repetitive beat to her life and their lifestyle; rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. These little moments, caught in between with nothing balanced in the mix; what are they, except little nuggets of freedom? Sakura would have liked to stay like this, drifting on and not thinking for ages, eons even, but the nearly silent, rhythmic beat of her better half’s footfalls rouse her. Sometimes she wonders if his footsteps actually make noise, or it’s just her imagination after so much time together. Regardless, she feels his approach through their bond, forged through time.

A comfortable smile falls across her features as she leans back on the wooden counter for support. “How long will you guys be gone?”

“It shouldn’t take longer than a week,” Sasuke replies as he adjusts the strap of his katana. A familiar frown finds its way onto his face as the stubborn strap refused to be subdued. Almost unconsciously, Sakura moves forward to help him. To make up for each other’s shortcomings, a voice of the past echoes in her mind.

“Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t let Naruto do anything stupid, either. And please, for god’s sake, don’t join together to do something doubly reckless.”

“Sakura…” he sighs. This is a warning she utters constantly, and is now like sandpaper, grating away at his nerves.

“I know!” she throws her arms up in defeat. “I just wish we were still a team together, you know? It doesn’t feel right in my heart. How can I rest when I know you guys are out there, without me beside you on the field?”

“We’ll be fine. We’re not kids anymore, Sakura.”

“That just means you guys are able to do crazier things now,” she sighs, absentmindedly fixing his crooked mask. “Anyways, I might not be here when you guys return. I think shishou mentioned a mission earlier.”

He nods once more, his raven hair catching a ray of the dying sun. “You be careful, too.”

And then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, they lean in for a bittersweet kiss. It should be natural, she thinks, for a married couple of nearly three years to kiss and worry about each other, but there is always that nudge of doubt, nugget of insincerity lingering. Their kiss is like many of the things they share; a beautiful lie, holding within its tangy taste a promise of the future. But for them, for any shinobi, what are promises but lies?

She whispers something into their kiss, and he just about catches the whisper flitting through the air between them. “I love you,” she says.

Sasuke mumbles something unintelligible in reply as he slips through her hold and out into the unknown future. Her emeralds trace his shadows until he is but a spec on the horizon, and only then does she drop the lovely, stricken look of a loved one left behind. It’s not exactly apathy that replaces her forlorn look, but it’s similar.

Lying is simply one of the things she has improved on over the years, but she can’t help but think that with every day that passes, less of her reality is a lie, and more of her lie falls in place with reality.

The Godaime’s eyes flash as she looks down at her coral haired, fiery tempered apprentice. “You’re requesting a mission?”

“You’re always talking about the ANBU shortage, shishou.”

The blonde’s eyes stay piercing for another moment before an exasperated sigh escapes her lips. “That’s true. But I’m also short staffed at the hospital. You should know that since you run the place. You can’t be spared there.”

“Ino is more than capable enough to cover for me while I’m gone. It’s not like it’s permanent.”

“Maybe, but…” Tsunade hesitates, looking for an shred of an excuse. When she finds none, a look of annoyed resignation crosses her face as she brings her fingers up to her temple. “Fine. I didn’t want to give this to you guys, but it seems like I have no choice. Anyone else qualified is either away or dead. Don’t kill two of my most prized ANBU on this mission.”

The subtextual plea for their survival is crystal clear in Sakura’s ears as she nods. “Thank you, shishou,” she whispers, moving forward to sweep her surrogate mother in an impromptu embrace. Tsunade heaves a quiet sigh, returning the embrace while absentmindedly stroking the girl’s back. There is more to Sakura’s thank you than its surface value, with depths that are too taboo to word.

“I know, Sakura. I know.”

“I’m leaving on a mission,” he pauses, drawling his words lazily as any good Nara would. “Tomorrow.”

Ino quirks a brow, but he does not miss the flash of misery present in her round cerulean orbs. “Again? But you’ve barely recovered from your last mission.”

“Yeah. Things have been pretty hectic since the roundup, it can’t be helped.”

“Will you be gone long?”

“A week, probably. But you know how it is.”

She pauses, both in speech and in the repetitive stirring of her scalding soup. “Yeah. Of course.”

It’s still dark, but they’ve already set out. The sun is but barely peaking over the horizon in the far distance, and for every inch it moves up in the sky, the three silhouettes move further away from the towering walls of home. It’s also silent, but not out of awkwardness or unwillingness. Rather, it’s become habit, for the first few hours to be shrouded in nothing but the voices of the forest. They’re moments of reflection used to contemplate and criticise every sin they might allow themselves to indulge in.

It is not until they are at least fifty miles away that their silence and impossible pace are broken. Perfectly in sync, like a dance routine that has been rehearsed ten thousand times before, they drop into the next clearing into each other, inhaling and drowning in the scent of their own intoxication. Within seconds they are but a tangled mess of limbs on the padded forest floor, dizzy and alive. Sakura, with her head buried deep within the burrows of Neji’s neck and body curved perfectly into Shikamaru’s embrace, takes a deep, cleansing inhale.

“Hey, you,” she whispers into the air between them, voice raspy with negligence. “It’s been a while.”

“Almost two weeks,” Shikamaru mumbles nearly unintelligibly.

“How have you two been?” Neji offers to the conversation quietly.

“Bored. Nothing to do while I recovered, no one to play shogi with. Ino’s busy with work, usually.”

“Busy, busy, busy,” Sakura sighs. “The hospital is so understaffed lately that I’m practically living there. Everyone is practically living there. Ino too.” This she says with a sort of pointed, deliberate look at Shikamaru, but she turns to Neji before Shikamaru can decipher it fully. “And what about you? I haven’t seen you at all since your post-mission check up.”

“I’ve been good,” Neji replies, and after a pause, adds, “Tenten and the twins are good as well.”

The mention of twins sparks a forgotten topic in Sakura’s mind, and she hesitates before she decides that if she starts keeping secrets from them, she’ll have no safe haven left. So she ventures quietly, “I think Sasuke wants to have kids soon. I mean, he hasn’t explicitly said so, but he’s not the most subtle when it comes to things he really wants.”

“Little Uchiha boys with pink hair. Sasuke will love that.”

“Or maybe you’ll have a little girl, and Sasuke won’t have to die of a painful cardiac episode,” her boys reply without missing a beat. Relief isn’t strong enough of a feeling to describe what she feels – exhilaration, bliss, elation – all mingled together as a reminder that with them, she never has to worry. Sakura laughs it all out, and just like that, the invisible wall that erects every time they become reacquainted after an absence disappears and their conversation just flows from there, mingled with laughter, earlier topics entirely forgotten.

For now, their other lives take a back seat as they laugh at each other’s antics and just breathe in the atmosphere, revelling in the moment. They have been in this too long, and have simply resigned themselves to the fact that no matter how real this needs to be, no matter how impossibly deep their bonds go, no matter how good they are together, this is it. This is the extent of what can be in the face of their reality. But they have accepted, somewhere along the way, to tolerating and perhaps even enjoying the reality that shrouds them. At least for each and every I love you, there is some semblance of truth lacing each declaration. Every time they say it to their respective spouses, it somehow becomes more real, until eventually, Sakura thinks, she will no longer be able to differentiate between their love and the love she so easily says out.

“How long do you think shishou will let us out for?” Sakura asks at last, bringing them back to the taboo of their actions.

Unlike before, their replies are not instantaneous. Sakura can see the wheels turning in their minds, the miserable gleam in Shikamaru’s glossy eyes and poorly hidden ones mirrored in Neji’s. “Two weeks at the most, probably,” Shikamaru offers at last.

Neji’s brows crinkle for a moment. “This mission might prove to be a handful though. If we’re efficient we can probably wrap it up in five days, give or take a day.”

If we’re efficient, he says. Of course they’re efficient. After Sasuke and Naruto’s team, they are the most efficient, and sometimes even more. It is a learned skill, and more accurately described, a forced skill. It is the product of each hidden getaway for them – each day wasted equals one day less to spend together. They’ve tested it before, daring to lollygag in their return trip from a mission. Unsurprisingly, Tsunade was not amused, dangling a permanent red flag over their heads – overplay it again, and there will be no more. It’s for their own good, they know, but they can’t help the bitter taste of the truth. One week together. It’s not perfect, and it’s not ideal, but it’s something, and is at least seven days more than nothing.

The solemnity of the moment is broken by Sakura’s smile. “Well, what’re we doing here wasting time? Let’s go! We’ve got a few bastards to kill.”

Her boys chuckle at her vulgar tongue as they untangle and begin to rid the evidence of their presence. It takes no more than two minutes with their combined efforts, and without another word, they set off towards the next two weeks of their lives.

they say time cannot stand against us.

2012-08-06T10:47:53Z

Fandom: Kaitou St. Tail
Characters: Asuka Jr & Haneoka Meimi
Prompts: 60. one final look back
Word Count: 371
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Kaitou St. Tail.
Notes: Written for 500themes.

-

“Cosplay?” Meimi looked genuinely perplexed at the notion. It was so unexpected that she stopped stirring the stew. “Who’s idea was that? And what on earth would I even go as?”

“Who else? Sawatari’s, of course. He said it would make the reunion more exciting!” At the second part of Meimi’s remark though, Asuka Jr. gave her a look that could only mean ‘are you serious’? It took a moment more for it to click in Meimi’s mind, but when it did, she was incredulous.

“Asuka, you are kidding, right?”

“Nope. It’d be hilarious! Besides, it’s been nearly a decade since St. Tail disappeared.”

Meimi looked entirely unconvinced. “What if people realize it was really me? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Asuka sighed as he wrapped his arms around his wife from behind. “You don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. I just thought it would be funny. Like a little inside joke between the two of us. And Seira.” When Meimi remained silent, he continued. “Plus, most of our classmates will probably think it’s a humorous gag on your part, knowing my history with St. Tail and all.”

When Meimi continued to stay silent for another minute, Asuka began to worry that he had offended his wife in some irreparable way. Knowing her temper, any prolonged silences usually signified the coming of a temperamental hurricane. Just as he readied the precautionary apology, Meimi turned suddenly to face him.

“Okay,” she said with a small smile that grew with every passing second. “I’ll do it. It would be hilarious to see the looks on Takamiya and Sawatari’s faces. Plus, it’d be a good dose of nostalgia for Seira, too!”

“That’s my girl,” he breathed into her hair.

Their sweet moment was broken a minute later when they were rudely interrupted by the stew exploding. “Oh no, our dinner!” Meimi promptly forgot about everything else as she hurried away to salvage the stew. Asuka Jr. watched fondly as she stumbled around the kitchen.

It was like nothing had changed in all the time that had passed, and he knew that even if another fifty years passed, they would stay as fondly in love as that first night.

their awkward tango.

2012-08-06T10:43:51Z

Fandom: Kaitou St. Tail
Characters: Asuka Jr. & Haneoka Meimi
Prompts: 203. entrapment
Word Count: 100
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Kaitou St. Tail.
Notes: Written for 500themes.

-

Entrapment, she thinks, as a way to describe this. It’s a little twisted when applied to them though – but what isn’t, when it comes to the two of them? Everything seems a little distorted, a little out of place in their world. It’s funny, though, because like this, he’s at his most adorable. It’s endearing and flattering, and pulls her back time after time. She doesn’t feel bad about this entrapment scheme of hers, really – it’s the only time she can really have him, as they are.

She smiles beautifully as she lights up the world below – “Good evening, everyone!”

soon, across the universe she'll be.

2012-08-06T10:31:54Z

Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Neville Longbottom & Luna Lovegood
Prompts: 15. last time
Word Count: 425
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Warning: Implied character death.
Notes: Written for 500themes.

-

“It’s not fair.”

“There’s a reason for everything that happens, I think.”

Neville wanted to groan in frustration. He wanted to tear something apart, his own hair even, from the roots if he could, or maybe throw that vase against the wall, something to vent out these feelings of helplessness. It was a feeling that he’d channelled away for nearly a decade now, he’d been doing so bloody well-

“Neville, darling, stop frowning, you’ll get wrinkles prematurely.”

“Who cares about wrinkles? You’re dy-”

Luna shushed him with one frail finger to his lips. “Even so, you shouldn’t say such unlucky things.”

This time, he did groan, a sound halfway between a sob and a sigh. “It’s just all so bloody stupid! You survived a war, for god’s sake. And for this, this to be it-”

“Didn’t I just say it was bad luck to mention it like so?”

“Yes, yes, you did. But it’s just so trivial and bloody unfair-”

“Life was never made as a fair game, darling.”

All of a sudden, Neville seemed to shrink, as if her words had finally hit home. “Don’t say things like that, Luna. Even so. Don’t say such wise things, you’re too young for such wisdom.”

Her smile was drawn. “Age is relative to lifespan, don’t you think?”

Neville matched her forced smile. “And who’s saying unseemly things now?”

Luna laughed, her voice dry and hollow. But the sound was a welcome one anyways, because it signified the end of this squabble. This happened often now, these little pseudo-fights. Sometimes when the sun was still high and reflecting streaks of light off of their glass-paned walls, and sometimes when it was just a shadow of the moon flashing across the sky. It was unsaid between them, but it seemed to Neville, and probably Luna, too, that the increased frequency of these fights seemed to indicate her rapidly decreasing lifespan.

Neville supressed a sigh as he brought the cup of tea to her lips. When the counter turned from years, to months, and now finally to days, he realized that every moment, trivial or not, was precious.

“How would you like to watch the sunset today from the cliff?”

“I’d love that,” she replied between a cough.

Neville smiled down at his wife, tightening his hold on her as he did so. Even though he’d vowed to live in the moment to be able to better cherish every last second, he couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering down the path of damnation.

Will this sunset be your last?

this emptiness called limbo.

2012-07-13T09:55:17Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Hyuuga Neji & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 309. finding infinity & hc/ 04. broken
Word Count: 319
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Drabble. Lofty. Vague. "Artistic."
Notes: Written for 500themes & mission_insane.

-

They’re broken. Like clockwork, they’re attracted to each other like nothing else. Opposites? It’s the similarities that tug them closer towards each other, singing, torching and burning away at the tendrils that bind them, root them to their demons. Those qualities are the very embodiment of pain, unimaginable pain, but without them, they are at a loss, nothing more than the bare minimum of their being.

What am I without the things that stab and hurt me? she asks. Those hurts drive her, forcing her into the corner where success is not an option, but the sole narrow path. They’ll never really disappear, she knows; she’s just gotten better at hiding and masking and masquerading it as something else. They’ll be with her until she is but ashes spread over the land, and maybe, she thinks, even beyond that. There is the knife called weakness, that stabs with emotional pain that lingers, never leaving her shadow. This knife prods her forward, keeping her perpetually propelled on this path. It’s a knife called Sakura, branded with the fragility of a petal and its likelihood in strength.

What am I without the cuffs that chain me? he thinks, metaphorically, realistically. Those chains keep him in line, yet they are the visionary that allows him to see beyond even his blind spot. Without the chains, there is no differentiating between where his leash extends to and the forbidden, beautiful territory of potential beyond. His leash is also his freedom, and it’s only within his prerogative, his vision to fix himself a life beyond. Each link on this endless chain spells out Hyuuga, again and again, until its irony is branded hotly and permanently unto him.

It’s in this infinite stretch of the impossible future that they find each other, drowning yet holding on. They’re lifelines for each other in this endless limbo that they find themselves hovering in, and sometimes, it’s enough.

death is the birth of something else

2012-07-11T02:32:36Z

Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Draco Malfoy & Hermione Granger
Prompts: 21. blink & 38. smoke & 17. devastating explosion
Word Count: 825
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Warning: Character deaths and perhaps a bit of character insanity as well.
Notes: Written for fanfic50 & quill_it & 500themes.

So much haze, covering everything, engulfing the world in its breadth, choking, and stealing away every last breath. The flames danced with the smoke, a foggy mix of orange, red, blue and perhaps even purple. The colours seemed synergetic as he felt the heat of them through his other senses; red for the adrenaline and rage and purple for defeat.

He once dreamed of watching the world burn.

It would be such a precious image, he’d thought, to see the undefeatable licking away at every last shred of dignity and fight. Fire, fire, fire. He used to light matches, burst them with magic, keep the flames alight and floating around him. Their heat and light were his only company, the only companionship he’d ever longed for.

Draco Malfoy was, until very recently, a pyromaniac.

But it seemed so strange now to see something he’d loved so much destroy the only thing he’d ever loved more – karma? – he thought quickly, but no, there was no such thing. But it was ironic, or coincidental – either worked, really – that in the end, he would have nothing, stripped even of his own dignity.

The world is burning, he thought, the red flashing before him, dangerously, tauntingly. My world is burning.

“Sir! Please move out of the critical area! You’re still in danger there,” was the call of a distant voice, urgent but demanding. Draco hated demanding plebeians; he was the boss, the pureblood and the wizard extraordinaire. The voice moved closer, but was still hazy, faraway. “Sir! Are you injured? Can you walk? You must leave the area!”

A blink of his eye was all it took.

Draco swung around, the rage of red and adrenaline blinding his vision. “Get out of my way,” he growled to the manifestation of the voice. Nothing moved, though, nothing changed. Draco was arrogant, vain and everything else pureblood, but he was never stupid. Tonight would be a first, he realized lazily as he swung an angry, almost drunken fist towards the body of the voice.

“I have to go back in. Granger. Granger!” he bellowed as he charged, back towards the heat, towards the unforgiving lash and burn of the flames as they danced. It was hot, so, so hot as he jumped through the breaks, few as they were. “Granger. Granger! Hermione –“ he yelped indignantly as a flame jumped at him, intent on swallowing him whole. “Where the bloody hell are you?”

It was too late, he knew. Knowing and accepting were always different things entirely, though – Draco was stuck on the former. “Granger! Can you hear me? Come towards my voice!”

No voice or staggering form answered his desperate call. No headstrong Granger came crawling through the flames, licked and burnt. Nothing but desperation and heat met with his unending calls – but he didn’t stop. Not until he tripped and nearly dipped headfirst into a neighbouring flamepool.

“Fuck!” he cussed, too tired and hot to nurse his hurt foot. He’d figured his antagonist to be the rubble destroyed by the fires, but he chanced a quick look anyways.

He was right, in a way. It was rubble left over and destroyed by the flames. That was all a body – corpse, now – was considered in this situation. The life demolished by the flames, leaving only the shell left. That was the technical explanation – but his heart had another, a billion other ways to see this particular piece of rubble.

Her corpse, her body, her soul and her life – all gathered here, soot covering her troubled features, bloody scrapes on her arms and legs. Draco dropped to his knees, not realizing the small bundle of flames slowly building on his thighs. Did that even matter anymore? If he died – who would care? The only person who would was already there.

He gathered her battered body in his arms, careful not to let her slip from the sheen of sweat covering every inch of his body. It only took one of his large hands to smooth out the troubled expression marring her still-pretty features, but the black soot was impossible to clean.

“You promised you wouldn’t ever leave me behind,” he said, all accusatory. It was the only way he knew that could prevent him a complete breakdown. “Do I have to do everything for you?”

Rhetorical, all rhetorical. He hated, absolutely abhorred rhetorical speech and questions even more. But here he was, a hypocrite to the end, loving the very thing that protected and killed him. It didn’t matter that she was gone, technically. Her body was still burning and hot, charred and smooth – he was selective in his admissions. Violently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, cheeks and finally, bruised lips. His last farewell, he thought.

He blinked his hazy gray orbs shut then– not squeezed, just peacefully shut – as he crushed her burnt body to his burning one, incinerating them both a bright path into the next life.

when innocence still enveloped us.

2012-07-04T23:06:31Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Uchiha Sasuke & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 17. he told me many times "i love you" & 54. leap of faith & 10. heatwave & 20. laughter
Word Count: 409
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: AU.
Notes: Written for 31_days & 500themes & mission_insane & lover100.

-

She would never forget those words. Those distant yet close, mumbled, then with a clear throat – I love you – those were the unforgettable syllables of a girl’s dream. His was a confession unpracticed and uncomfortable, completely out of his element and equally as necessary. His words stumbled and tripped until the usually cool and composed man could only offer a jumbled mess of words that only a girl equally enamoured would be able to understand.

Most of all, though, she would never forget his simple words because of how absolutely unexpected and because of how, in the barest of senses, inappropriate they had been. The sun raged at a steady forty degrees Celsius, helped along by the humidity and pollution as they stood, bare naked and exposed towards each other, barely understanding the world but somehow, understanding each other so fully.

“I love you,” he said, once, stubbornly, with his customary frown. She wanted to frown too, because what boy said I love you with a frown? But she also wanted to laugh and smile, because those words were so, so precious.

When she didn’t reply immediately, he repeated, once more, “I love you.” This time with more urgency, with more emotion, with more feeling. She wanted to laugh again – he was such an impatient one – but the thought hadn’t even been processed before he surged forward, gathering her all into his arms. His grip was tight, squeezing her, sure to leave bruises later – he was always somewhat careless when it came to her – as he said, again and again, “Didn’t you hear me? I said I love you.” The last time his tone was accusatory, as if daring her to not repeat his words.

She knew better though – she knew that that was just his deep, hidden, pocketed insecurities. She blew a tiny kiss at him, all warm smiles and affection. “Of course, Sasuke-kun. Are you silly? I also love, love, love you.”

His tense shoulders relaxed, and her smile broadened. She let out all of her pent up laughter, and even he eventually let out a small, crooked smile. The tiny pink haired girl threw her arms around her lifeline, until they were twirling, dancing, cheering and loving in a flurry of cerise and ebony, revelling in each other’s radiance.

To them, it didn’t matter that they were only six years old – they had the entire world at their feet, and an entire lifetime ahead of them.

when the darkness falls under your hair, there i'll be.

2012-06-10T15:02:06Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Uchiha Itachi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 27. violion & 005. discovery & 227. starved for affection
Word Count: 3730
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Content not suitable for children.
Notes: Part 10/31 of a mini-series. Sequels/Prequels can be found here at CHIAROSCURO. Written for 50_shinobi & lover100 & 500themes.

-

Itachi realized a little belatedly that he knew next to nothing about her. Haruno Sakura, as he was beginning to discover, was an enigma of many layers and surprises, each as pleasant and unexpected as the last. Though their acquaintance and pseudo-friendship had spanned more than a decade, she was still as much a stranger to him as that first meeting, still an unknown, still a variable to be solved.

Itachi could not be positive of it, but it was obvious that she knew much more about him than he did her. This alone was a disconcerting thought, because Itachi was by nature a very private person, shielding and protecting the very secrets that encompassed him. It baffled him that anyone outside of his immediate family would care enough to take the effort to gather and shelter information about himself, especially since, and he didn’t loath to admit, he wasn’t a particularly interesting person. The entirety of his life since his very birth had revolved around being a shinobi. It was drilled into the very core of his being so completely that sometimes, Itachi felt that there was simply no room to encompass anything else. Anything else would be extraneous, and would somehow work to lessen him.

Seeing the variability that made up Sakura, Itachi was beginning to rethink his theory.

“Yeah, play for us! Why practice so much and not perform?” A very drunk Ino slurred to the crowd, and the others, some as intoxicated as the blonde, hollered their pleasure. Sakura, who was oddly sober blushed a furious pink and shook her head.

“No no, I only started a few months ago. It’s nothing presentable yet.”

“Bullshit!” Ino yelled, voice shrill and slurred. As an afterthought, the boisterous girl slammed her hand down on the table. “Play for us! Play for us! Play for us!”

Around her, the drunk Genma, Kiba, Naruto, Sasuke and other indistinguishable faces started to join in on the chanting.

“Sakura-chayaaaaan,” Naruto whined as he staggered over to the pinkette. “The teme and I have heard you play before. It’s amazing. I mean, it’s your birthday, so you should definitely do as we say!”

Sakura raised a brow. “You’ve lost what little sense of logic you have, Naruto.”

Sasuke appeared next to his blond teammate, squeezing through the flood of people in Sakura’s tiny apartment. The alcohol seemed to have done wonders for his misanthropy as he turned an admonishing glare on Naruto. “Naruto, stop nagging Sakura. Clearly, she doesn’t want to play.” Sakura was beginning to feel touched by Sasuke’s caring words, when he continued, “We can’t help it if she’s too scared to play. Or too embarrassed. We shouldn’t blame her…”

This was as good as waking the tiger, as Sakura hesitated not a moment before whacking Sasuke particularly hard upside his head. The younger Uchiha didn’t even have time to react before Sakura marched through the crowd, voice booming. “All right listen up you demanding, drunk children. I’ll play one song and one song only.”

Ino started the round of cheers that followed this demand, and Naruto, in his excitement, fell off the chair he’d managed to scramble onto, effectively crushing the poor Kotetsu and Izumo under his weight. Sakura could only smile fondly at the blond’s antics as she unpacked her instrument.

Although Itachi vaguely recognized the shape of the case, he was still surprised when Sakura produced a violin, held delicately within her hands. Ino applauded again when the instrument came into view, eliciting a holler from some other drunken guests. Sakura gave a teasing bow, slightly flushed as she went on to tune the instrument. Out of nowhere, Naruto appeared next to Itachi, all smiles and with a beer bottle in hand.

“You’ll love this, Itachi! Believe it. Sakura-chan’s amazing.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s right! She said she’s been practicing for someon-” Naruto stopped as his cloudy gaze caught sight of something over Itachi’s shoulders. “Hey! Chouji, man, you still owe me that drinking contest!”

As suddenly as he had appeared, Naruto staggered off towards the bigger man, waving the glass bottle dangerously above his head. Itachi watched with mild amusement as the blond barrelled over an unsuspecting couple before turning back to the focus of everyone’s attention.

Sakura cleared her throat. “Well then. It’s not much. So don’t expect much.”

Then, she lifted the spruce instrument to her chin, heaved in a deep breath, and brought the bow down to the strings.

Itachi half expected a squeak, squeal or otherwise unpleasant noise to permeate the air, but he had never been more mistaken in his life. A soft note struck through the air around them, and seemed to gather with it awe and inspiration as it passed through the ears of its audience. From Ino to a smirking Tsunade, that first note, and the many that followed it compelled its audience into silence and wonderment as it brought them through a coaster of fortes and pianissimos, largos and allegros, until finally settling on a delicate, light e minor that left its listener’s hearts at bay and dancing across thin glass.

For a moment after Sakura’s performance ended, no one dared breathe, lest their exhale shatter the spell of her song. At the dumbstruck expressions on the faces of all the elite shinobi gathered in her cozy apartment, Sakura was at a loss. A reaction, any reaction, really, would have been good. All of a sudden Sakura was all nerves, embarrassed that her performance really had been awful. As a habit, she started fidgeting with a stray hair on the bow.

“Holy shit,” Ino finally breathed out, sobered by the illusion she had just been transported into. “Holy mother of shits. You are absolutely amazing with that thing, Forehead! Where on earth have you been hiding this talent of yours?”

Ino’s compliment brought the others out of their respective dazes, and soon, Sakura was swarmed by a group of people, each full of praise and amazement. Itachi caught some of the words that were yelled at a higher decibel than others – Naruto’s, for example – as he boasted about his dear Sakura-chan’s accomplishments. Yet, for all his own pleasant shock, and, he was surprised to admit, amazement at her skill, Itachi did not approach the smiling woman.

Itachi stood at his place by the small leather couch, behind an unconscious Shikamaru, nursing the one beer he’d had all night. The barrage on Sakura didn’t cease, and didn’t look like it was about to any time soon. Itachi had never been one for unnecessary attention, so the best he could do was raise his glass in her direction when their eyes clashed across the space, and indulge secretly in the smile that was her reply. Her attention was stolen a second later though, slicing that moment into memory as she smiled and laughed at whatever was said to her next.

It was a little fanciful, but Itachi opted to think that the smile he’d gotten was one she reserved especially for him.

- - -

“Thanks for coming!” Sakura yelled into the night after the last of the departing guests. After her little performance, another two hours had passed them by, during which time everyone simply decided to become even more intoxicated. Most of the shinobi had managed to leave, either by their own devices or on the shoulders of another. Those teammates of hers, however…

Predictably, Sasuke and Naruto were passed out in her living room, a mess of bottles and glasses around them. Sakura wanted to groan despite the good mood she was in. Her apartment was absolutely trashed, and she still had to move those drunkards of hers. But when she reached the two men, she couldn’t help the smile the found its way onto her face. She was nineteen now, and they were both very nearly there, yet they were still as adorable and lovely in her eyes as the first day she laid eyes on them. Thankfully for them, these good natured memories found her heaving them onto her shoulders gently, intent on letting them have a good night’s rest. Usually, Sakura would leave them to crinkle in their awkward positions as punishment for not being sober for cleanup, but today was a good day. Her good nature lasted until she reached the spare bedroom, at which point she dumped them rather unceremoniously on the bed, not giving much thought to their tangled limbs. For good measure, she flicked open the blinds, leaving them a nice good morning hangover present for when the time came.

When she returned to her open kitchen and living room area, Sakura very nearly had a heart attack.

Standing smack in the middle of the two rooms was Uchiha Itachi, looking for all the world as if he belonged there.

“Itachi!” she gasped, stepping back once. The night and alcohol had dulled her senses, and she immediately blushed at her fatal error. Had he been an enemy, she would have already been dead five times over. “What are you still doing here? Don’t worry about Sasuke – he’s dead to the world for now.”

Itachi nodded, despite already knowing Sasuke’s condition. He paused here, realizing his next words would seem rather odd to the birthday girl. But he forged on regardless, heedless of the consequences. “I will help you clean up.”

“Oh,” she blinked, not quite expecting that declaration, of all things. “Oh well, you don’t have to. It’s late and you must be tired.”

To Itachi, though, the word no simply was not one that he accepted as an answer. As she was spewing out her protests, he had already begun to pick up the bottles that littered her hardwood. Realizing that her protests had been blatantly ignored, Sakura realized that this Uchiha was just as stubborn as the other one currently passed out in her guest bedroom.

Resigned to the fact that he would be here until her apartment was cleaned, she allowed herself the small treat of simply watching him work away, his movements graceful, light and delicate. The fluidity of his movements were so ingrained and effortless that he looked like water flowing through her apartment, grazing by the world, leaving just enough behind to carry no attachments.

It was this refinement that set him apart from anything else she had ever known, this and the aura of impenetrable sadness that guarded him closely. The latter, Sakura thought, was probably something Itachi himself did not consciously acknowledge. This subconscious denial only added to his melancholic appeal. Itachi was a package of such conflicting emotions that Sakura’s own heart was torn by heartbreak over his solitude and attraction to the mystery. It was nothing she could adequately explain away with logic or sense, but Uchiha Itachi tugged away at her heart as nothing else in the world could.

Sakura returned to her senses a moment later, realizing that she had been gawking at the elder Uchiha for the past minute. Blushing a sweet pink, Sakura joined Itachi in picking up the litter. Not much conversation passed between the two as they worked to clean, but Sakura was satisfied. It felt awfully domestic, cleaning her apartment with Itachi. The feeling made her ridiculously giddy inside, no different than the butterflies that plague teenage girls. On the few occasions where they had managed to end up cleaning the same area, or when their fingers had perhaps grazed, Sakura had nearly felt her heart pop. She tried to blame in on the teensy bit of alcohol she’d had earlier, but her treacherous heart couldn’t stop its intense beat as long as Itachi was here with her, in such an intimate setting.

In the end, they ended up finishing the clean up much faster than Sakura had anticipated. It was a little over three o’clock when Sakura wiped down the last of the glasses, handing it to Itachi to put away. Sakura didn’t really know whether to be excited that they finished so soon or upset that her little cloud nine moment had also ended so soon. When Itachi returned to his spot next to her, they elapsed into an awkward silence. With no work to distract the air around them, everything was so still, including them.

Surprisingly, it was Itachi that broke the silence a minute later. “You are very skilled at playing violin.”

Sakura shrugged. “Not really, I only started four months ago. Hopefully I’ll become good enough to perform one day,” she paused and smiled sheepishly. “At least, that’s the plan.”

“Why the violin?”

“No particular reason. I’ve always found the sound pretty, so I decided to give it a shot.”

Itachi let her words soak through him. Her nonchalance caught him off guard, though he didn’t quite understand why. “That is one way to choose a hobby, I suppose."

“Yes, well, actually-” Sakura cut herself off as she considered her next words. When she finally decided on her words, she couldn’t help the light rosy tint that spread across her cheeks. “You can’t laugh when I tell you this, but if I’d have to name a hobby and just one, I’d probably have to say that it’s my habit of trying everything.”

Itachi quirked a curious brow. “Everything?”

“Yes,” Sakura heaved a defeated sigh. “Everything. Remember the time Sasuke and Naruto had me taken off the roster after that mission? I tried my hand at knitting, which, incidentally, did not turn out so well. I also have a coin collection lying around here somewhere, probably with the telescope and a few paintings….”

If Itachi was not amused by her odd hobby, he was certainly amused by her rambling. “It would seem to me that a more appropriate name for your hobby is hoarding.”

“Hey!” Sakura said with mock outrage, slapping him playfully on the arm. “I said you couldn’t laugh.”

“I do not recall agreeing to said condition.”

Sakura paused, but beamed up at him a moment later. “Touche, Itachi,” Sakura thought she saw a flicker of amusement pass through his eyes, which warmed her heart. Sobering up, she continued, “So what about you, Itachi? What do you do aside from kicking-ass?”

A stagnant silence followed her simple question, breaking off the smooth flow of their conversation. When Itachi didn’t reply after a minute had passed, a rather nasty thought occurred to Sakura. Had she somehow offended him with that one question?

It was not, however, offense that Itachi was feeling. He had, in the simplest explainable term, been caught off guard, though he could not quite explain why. Her question had been the next logical one in the course of their conversation. After a long pause, Itachi replied, quietly, “I do not have any hobbies.”

Sakura’s mouth dropped to form a slight ‘o’ at his unceremonious proclamation. Curiously, there was no embarrassment or insult in his reply…it was simply a statement of facts as they were. Itachi seemed neither upset at not having any outside interests nor delighted. He seemed simply at peace with the fact as something immutable and indefinite. Sakura loved her life as a shinobi, but she couldn’t imagine living without breaks from its harsh demands. Without her numerous hobbies, Sakura was sure that she would have gone crazy long ago from the stress. How on earth did Itachi manage to stay sane?

A memory burst through the forefronts of her mind then, a slipping image lost to the thousand others she had gathered throughout the years. Through the rose-coloured eyes of her nine year old self, the image of a younger Itachi appeared in her memory. It was little more than a passing glance, as Sakura was passing through the area with her mother. He was young by his frame but ancient by his stature as he sat at the base of the large elm. Sakura’s innocent eyes blinked curiously at the enigmatic boy, who she quickly recognized as Sasuke’s brother, the very same boy who she’d met on the road just a few snowy months before.

Immediately upon seeing him, young Sakura’s heart sank. There was such a melancholic, sorrowful aura surrounding him that just one glance at him saddened her young heart. The girl squinted, trying to get a closer look at the thing dangling between his tense fingers. It was a bottle of some sort, shaped in a rather curious way. The little girl racked her brain for anything it might be. A water canteen? Juice? Medicine? None of her conjectures made quite enough sense to the smart girl, but her investigation was cut short as her okaa-san suggested they finally go eat dinner. In her excitement and mirth, the blissful young girl forgot all about the inexplicably heart wrenching scene she’d just witnessed.

As this memory replayed in Sakura’s mind, her heart sank again, mirroring that same feeling from ten years prior. Those rose-coloured lenses had long since shattered, and Sakura knew now without a doubt what that bottle was. Alcohol, the poison that so many shinobi turned to, consciously drowning themselves until there was nothing left to feel.

Is he still self-medicating? she wondered, a little sadly but even more worriedly. If he’d been drinking to that extent for all this time, his liver would surely be ready to give out any time soon now. And since he was never one to show up for routine check-ups at the hospital, Sakura feared she might never find out. A sudden urge, inexplicable and probably wildly inappropriate seized her then, compelling her to surge forward, closing the stagnant space between them.

Her action was so unplanned and uncharacteristic that it surprised them both, with Itachi’s eyes widening ever-so-slightly at her movement. A little nervous now, Sakura stalled, unsure of what to do. Thankfully, her body came to the rescue of her heart as it pumped a wave adrenaline through her system. Along with the extra beats of her heart, Sakura raised a delicate hand to his face, slowly, but steadily. Though Itachi’s gaze was trained on her face, Sakura felt surreal, as if she was watching the entire thing as a third party.

Sakura watched, entranced, as the suddenly brave and probably crazy Sakura let her hand rest on his face, caressing it softly, an expression of absolute empathy on her face. Itachi bristled under her touch at first, but the bravado-Sakura didn’t seem to be deterred, as she continued. Eventually, he relaxed under her touch, like a child being coaxed. Her own gaze seemed glazed over, as if entranced by her actions and the intensity of his gaze.

She paused in her action as suddenly as she had began and with unknown courage she locked the intensity of their gazes together. “You’re not alone, you know,” she began, softly but firmly. “You don’t have to carry all those burdens alone. You don’t have to lift the weight of the world alone. Don’t try to forget by harming your body.”

Itachi looked surprised by her declaration, his unshakable composure stirred by her words. Sakura, however, was not finished. “You can share those burdens with me. Please don’t drink anymore.”

If Itachi was surprised before, he was even more so now. How does she know about the alcohol? Itachi wondered. It was a secret he kept closely guarded to himself – not even his family knew. No one knew. So how did she know? It must have been a time of the past, though, because the night of their first encounter was one of the last times he’d used alcohol to dull the ache. There had been a few other times in the following months when he’d once more reached for the bottle, but that had been the end of his self-destruction.

The hopeful expression on Sakura’s face, he decided, was endearing and altogether moving. “I do not drink anymore,” he said. “I have not used that method of…unburdening myself in ten years.”

“Oh,” she breathed, evidently relieved, if the broadening smile on her face was any indication. Itachi waited to see if she would draw a connection between his years of sobriety and their history, but nothing changed on her features. She had no reason to suspect, though, that their insignificant meeting had such a profound impact on him.

The adrenaline and bravado was gone now, but their proximity remained, and for the first time since her speech, Sakura realized the awkward placement of her hand. It was still there, hovering over his face awkwardly, not quite touching and not quite apart.

“Right. That’s good. I’m happy you’re not drinking any more,” she said, starting to ramble. “You can always tell me anything that’s troubling you. If you want, I mean. You don’t have to…Well I’m sure you knew that. What I mean is-”

Sakura’s eyes widened into saucers as she felt his iron grip on her receding arm. She had realized that her bumbling speech was the best opportunity to remove her hand unnoticed, though even then, it was a slim chance, considering the man standing before her. Itachi grabbing her wrist before she’d even lifted her hand a few centimeters away though, was something entirely unexpected.

And just as suddenly as his he’d grabbed her arm, his face was before hers, just inches away. When he spoke, his voice was low and if Sakura dared think, dangerous. “Do you know what you’ve just offered to do, Sakura?”

Sakura’s heart was beating at approximately 1000 beats per second as she breathed out a quiet yes, though she unconsciously understood that she’d probably missed the sub-subtext of his words. Before she could sputter out her next words though, Itachi had closed the remaining minuscule amount of space between them, swooping his face down to capture her lips within his.

For the second time within a minute, Sakura’s eyes widened to an impossible size as she soaked in the situation. Sirens were blaring in her head and nothing was registering because this situation was absolutely bizarre and unreal – then, she just stopped thinking altogether, and allowed her eyes to flutter shut. If this was just some fluke of the alcohol or a sweet dream, Sakura decided that overthinking it was the worst possible way to waste the experience.

With her eyes shut, Sakura gave in. Gave into the kiss, melted into his embrace and just surrendered to this beautiful assumption of reality.

when words fail

2012-05-02T14:33:03Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Uchiha Itachi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 45. caress the darkness, kiss the light & 39. silk kimono & 29. waiting
Word Count: 1644
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Not suitable for children. AU.
Notes: Written for 500themes & 50_shinobi & 50scenes.

“It is necessary.”

Sakura blinked again, the world around her focusing back into perspective. There it was, still in front of her, still real and still there and unchanged. It had just been an echo of his voice after all, and she almost wanted to laugh at the irony of everything. Whoever said that making mistakes was okay because you learned from them was an utter liar. Either that, or Sakura really was stupid and masochistic.

She would’ve thought that chasing after one damaged Uchiha would have taught her something, anything at all. But apparently not, since here she was, in exactly the same predicament as before. Only, this Uchiha didn’t even have the decency to say thank you. All Itachi had for her were his cold, harsh words, cutting her like glass and leaving no room for emotional arguments. Perhaps it was a genetic flaw. But really, she couldn’t deny that it was probably no one’s fault but her own.

She had chosen him, and inadvertently, had chosen all the pain and agony that came with him.

Sakura blew out another sigh, her breath heavy.

It was almost time to go.

“Leaf?” Kisame poked his head in, a soft quizzical stare on his aqua features. “You ready to go?”

A wry smile curled at the corner of her lips. “Will I ever be?”

A soft, almost natural laughed escaped his lips, but it was the look of solemn understanding that caught her. “You’re not half bad, Haruno.”

“Come help me with this, won’t you?”

Without another word, Kisame took a few strides towards the sulking woman. Like an expert, he picked up the beautiful kimono, the silk sliding smoothly between his blue fingers. In a smooth motion he’d unwrapped the kimono, and held it open expectantly for Sakura. On cue, Sakura dropped the robe she donned, revealing a black slip.

She raised a brow at Kisame. “You didn’t think I’d be naked under here, did you, Hoshigaki?”

Kisame scoffed back teasingly. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

A particularly hard punch to his biceps was her only reply before she slipped into the outstretched kimono. Again with his odd expertise, Kisame closed up the garment and proceeded to tie it with an equally gorgeous and elaborate obi. Sakura sucked in a hard breath as Kisame tugged on the obi, tying it tightly.

Kisame grunted. “Sorry, Haruno, but it’s got to be tight.”

“It’s alright,” she replied through pinch lips. Kisame’s abnormal strength saw that her breath was hindered slightly by the tightness of the robe, but Sakura took it as a form of punishment. Punishment for her stupidity, an interlude to the storm that was headed her way. After a few more minutes, Kisame tapped her on the shoulder.

“Go look in the mirror, princess.”

Sakura obeyed, and walked somewhat awkwardly to the full length mirror across the room. The fancy traditional kimono was new to her; with her legs constricted together, Sakura mentally groaned. This would make an already despicable mission even more difficult. Just as these thoughts passed through her mind, though, her emeralds caught sight of the reflection.

Staring back at her was a woman that barely resembled her. The kimono, with its gorgeous silky night undertone and the bright strands of emerald that ran throughout its pattern struck out against her pale skin and bright hair. While the contrast served to enhance her beauty, it was the coyness and brilliant hue of her eyes that made even her breath hitch in her throat. Delicately, she reached up to gather her hair together, and in a few quick movements had put it in a passable updo.

Kisame appeared behind her. A low whistle escaped his lips. “I’m not usually one to say this, Haruno,” he paused for a moment. “But…you are beautiful.”

Despite his compliment, Sakura’s heart sank. Would Itachi ever say those words to me?

Sakura giggled as she lay a coy hand on the fat lord’s arms. Her delicate touch had him grunting in pleasure. She used her hand to cover her mouth as she giggled again at his asinine jokes. It had been eighty minutes already, and frankly, the mission was going nowhere. His weight had his alcohol tolerance at ridiculously high levels, and Sakura had nearly run out of creative ways to get rid of her own alcohol.

“Shin-san!” she giggled when he put a crass hand on her breasts, giving them a hard squeeze. “Oh stop it, I’ll be embarrassed.” Squeeze any harder and I’ll castrate you, bastard, was what she really wanted to say. She refrained.

“Shut up, whore. I’ll be the judge of that.” On cue, lecherous hands reached out to undo Kisame’s delicate work. Sakura watched in dismay as the fumbling lord ripped the priceless silk at her shoulders in an attempt to undress her. He succeeded in the end, with the top of her kimono ripped into three separate shreds. Sakura closed her eyes in an attempt to keep the disgust off her face.

Only a few more minutes, then I can grab the scrolls. Only a few more minutes. Don’t mind his hands. Only a few more minutes. You’re a kunoichi. Don’t complain. This is the job. Only a few more mi-

Sakura’s last chant was cut short by the wooden door splintering open, exploding into a million separate shards. On top of her, the fat lord grunted in surprise as they both turned to the entrance.

The sight effectively stopped Sakura’s heart.

Itachi? she thought. What on earth-

“Remove your hands,” Itachi’s voice cut through the air, his tone dangerously calm.

“Who the fuck are you?” the lord spit out. “You dare command me? You little shit!” For good measure, he groped Sakura one more time, hard enough to elicit a gasp of pain from her.

Before he’d even finished, Itachi appeared before the bed, and in one motion, plucked the fat lord off of Sakura’s half clothed body. “I said, do not touch her!” With unmatched fury, Itachi threw the lord down. The spot where he landed cracked slightly with the pressure, as did the lord’s spine when it made contact with the floor.

Sakura could only watch with shock and surprise and Itachi turned his attention back to her. Wordlessly, he removed his cloak, wrapped her within its warmth and scooped her up delicately. He remained silent as he clutched her tightly and escaped the premises.

For once in her life, Sakura was speechless.

Thirty minutes later, Itachi and Sakura entered a small, obscure cabin. Only when he’d locked the door behind them did Itachi set her down.

Sakura eyed him warily. “What the hell are you doing? The mission-”

“That is my question, Sakura.”

“Your question? What the hell? You just ruined my mission.”

“You’re angry?” Itachi replied. In those two words were more emotion than she’d seen him display all day. “Do you have any idea what you were about to do?”

“Yes, Itachi. I’m not two years old. It’s not like I’m a fucking virgin. You of all people should know that.”

Suddenly, Sakura was shoved up against the wall, his body crushing her to the surface. His face was less than an inch away from her own. “No one else is allowed to touch you.” To affirm his words, he crushed his lips to hers, sliding his tongue into her open mouth, tasting her, remembering her. “You are mine, Sakura.”

As much as she wanted to melt into his lust, Sakura pushed him away with chakra laden fists. “I don’t want to be your toy, Itachi,” she whispered. “I’m already in way too god damn deep.”

Itachi would have none of her disobedience, and so he attacked her lips again, biting them this time for good measure. When he removed his lips, hers were deliciously swollen. “I never called you a toy. That was a label of your own making.”

“I want more than you can give, Itachi,” she bit out, voice elevating. “I want a man who will care for me, who will miss me when I’m gone, who will fucking worry for me when I’m away on a mission, who will want to make love to me and not just fuck me. I want someone who will love me.”

Itachi’s eyes pierced her own glazed eyes, his eyes flashing. “And who said that is more than I can give?”

“You didn’t have to say it! Your actions speak louder than words. If you’d cared, you wouldn’t have let me go on a mission like that. You wouldn’t have let me desecrate my body like that.”

If Sakura had been expecting an immediate retort, she didn’t get it. Instead, Itachi released his death grip on her body. He took one step back, and if Sakura didn’t know better, she would say that he was raging an internal battle.

Eventually, Itachi spoke, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I did not know of it,” he started. “I did not find out until I reached our base an hour ago. Kisame informed me of your…mission.” There was such hatred in his voice as he spoke the latter part of his sentence that Sakura was taken aback.

Itachi didn’t know? Itachi didn’t know about her awful mission? That’s why he didn’t come? Sakura didn’t even have time to be elated before she felt his grip on her arms again. He seemed to be struggling with something before he crushed her into his embrace. It was so quiet that she nearly didn’t hear. “I apologize,” he said.

From within his arms, Sakura smiled into his chest. It wasn’t quite a declaration of her beauty, but it was much more valuable than that. From Itachi, something like that…

Sakura fancied herself to think that just maybe, it meant an affirmation to all that she had just demanded.

of white, flowing silk

2012-05-01T03:01:15Z

Fandom: Backstage Prince
Characters: Akari & Horiuchi Ryusei
Prompts: 364. bless the union & 13. celebrate
Word Count: 756
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I do not own Backstage Prince.
Notes: Written for 500themes & fanfic50.

Akari stared at the overwhelming abundant amount of white silk laid out before her. Even without touching, her breath caught in her throat. How on earth would she be able to do this? The last time she’d tried, it had been nothing less of a spectacle. That time, her mother had even helped, and still, the obi had ended up being tied backwards. Ryusei had not looked overly impressed, but then again, Ryusei never looked particularly impressed with anything.

Hesitantly, Akari reached out a tentative hand towards the flowing fabric of the uchikake kimono. The patterns and amount of detail on the expensive garment made her head swirl. It was undoubtedly the most beautiful kimono she had ever seen, so beautiful that Akari didn’t even want to think about how much it had cost Ryusei.

In her amazed trance, she failed to hear the heavy footfalls that had rounded the corner, into the dressing room. Thinking that her mother had finally arrived, Akari swirled around anxiously, only to be stricken back by a surprising sight. The old woman that was definitely not her mother breathed in sharply, before barking, “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t touch it!”

Akari jumped away from her position and landed quite painfully with her left hip meeting the sharp corner of the dressing table without mercy. The elderly woman that greeted her had such a deep scowl etched on her wrinkled face, it seemed as if it were her permanent expression. When Akari only stared at her meekly, she sighed again. “Well? Why are you just gawking at me? Strip!”

Oh. A dresser, Akari thought as she obeyed the woman’s orders. Of course Ryusei would hire a dresser. The garment was entirely too beautiful for Akari’s clumsy self to ruin. In her haste, her fingers slipped as they fumbled with the buttons of her cardigan. With another heavy sigh, the woman traversed over and removed Akari’s clothing swiftly and promptly. By now, Akari was sure that her face was a gorgeous shade of tomato red.

“Breathe, girl, breathe, I’m not going to eat you.”

It was only then that Akari noticed the breath she’d been holding, and again did as she was told. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

This, at least, seemed to appease the woman’s hostility for the moment. Akari saw a change in her face as the woman reached out for the garment, letting the silk fall delicately through her fingers. It was the type of passion Akari often saw in Ryusei when she danced, and suddenly, she wasn’t so afraid of the old woman. She was apparently all business, though, because after the moment had passed, the dresser turned and started barking orders at Akari. Turn around, raise your arms, bend your knee, hold your hair up… Akari soon lost track of the commands sent her way, but she followed each to the best of her ability.

If there was any day to screw something up, today was so not the day.

Three hours later, Akari’s heart was beating so fast she was sure it would burst.

From behind her, she could sense the nervousness emanating from her parents. From diagonally behind her, she could sense the tenseness and not-yet-approval from her future father-in-law. Oh my god, she thought. It’s finally happening.

The Shinto priest cleared his throat as he began his required role. Under her million layers, Akari was sure she was shaking from the nerves, but she couldn’t really be sure. For god’s sake, she couldn’t even see Ryusei. The traditional ceremony had them facing forward towards the priest. For a moment, Akari resented the decision to hold a traditional wedding. At least in a westernized ceremony, she would be facing Ryusei at the most critical moment of her life.

Just as these thoughts passed through her mind, she heard Ryusei’s voice. His whisper was so quiet that Akari didn’t hear the content at first. She shifted slightly, favouring his side.

Then, “You are so beautiful,” he paused in his whispers as the priest took a short pause. When the old man continued again, his voice booming, Ryusei continued, even softer than before. “I love you.” His declaration was murmured so quietly Akari was nearly sure she’d heard wrong, but those syllables were so precious and dear to her that they had to have been right.

Suddenly, the little trivial things didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. All that mattered was them and this moment, and all the million moments that would follow this one.

uchikake kimono is a traditional wedding kimono, usually tremendously elaborate.

is this serendipity?

2012-04-30T16:10:23Z

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice
Characters: Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth Bennet
Prompts: 32. the hand of fate
Word Count: 1170
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Pride and Prejudice.
Warning: Rewrite of a scene from the 2005 movie.
Notes: Written for 500themes.

-

Walking into Pemberley’s grand marble foyer, Elizabeth could only stare in awestruck amazement at its grandeur and beauty. It made Netherfield look shabbier than her own home, and that was probably an understatement as well.

Elizabeth could hardly call it remorse. She would have liked to call it that, but she would feel like an awful hypocrite. Those who were at fault never had good reason to be regretful of the outcome, especially if the outcome turned out especially unfavourable. And she had always prided herself on being one of the few females able and willing to look past wealth and status. What was this mansion doing to her? Lizzie sighed. She surrendered to the fact that it was only human to have such a fancy establishment tug one’s heartstrings.

When Lizzie snapped out of her trance, she was surprised to find herself utterly alone. “Uncle?” she called out, but the only reply to her inquiry was her own echo. For two minutes, she wandered around the area looking for her family, but the housekeeper had long since led them down the winding halls, lost to Lizzie for now. Without a guide, Lizzie suddenly felt like an intruder in Mr. Darcy’s home. Not for the first time since arriving at Pemberley, Lizzie felt immense relief knowing that he wasn’t due to return for another day.

Within a few minutes, Lizzie found herself lost in the maze of hallways that comprised Pemberley, and with some apprehension she pushed open the door before her. The room that opened up before her was stately, as everything in the great house was. But this one had a large window that opened up to the grounds below, and once more Elizabeth found herself awestruck at the sight before her. The perfect grass, trees and fountain all seemed from a dream, the perfect manifestation of a fairytale. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she looked wistfully at the faraway dream. There was even music to accompany her reverie…

Elizabeth blinked. Music?

She soon realized that the music was in fact not part of the dream, and was coming from a slightly ajar door on the opposite side of the room. The song sounded difficult, and was masterfully played, with all the notes smooth and lovely. Lady Catherine’s condescending comments of Mr. Darcy’s sister returned to her then, and Lizzie realized that it must be her. They hadn’t exaggerated then – Georgiana’s piano playing was every bit as lovely as they had touted. Lizzie’s curiosity had been thoroughly peaked. Just one peak, she thought as she inched herself towards the door.

Slender fingers, flowing blonde hair. Elizabeth smiled to herself. Georgiana seemed so innocent and dainty that it momentarily made Elizabeth forget her resolve, but a moment was all that it took. In the one moment that Elizabeth was distracted by Georgiana, another dark clad figure entered into the scene, sweeping Georgiana off her feet and into a twirling hug. Before her mind could even process what had just occurred, Darcy happened to catch her eye mid-turn, his one glance turning her blood cold.

Without another thought, Lizzie turned and ran.

The halls seemed more numerous than before, but Elizabeth managed to see the light of day again as she darted out a side exit. She was dismayed to see the number of stairs she had to descend to reach her freedom, but fleeing was of the utmost importance at the moment, so she had no choice but to fly down the steps. She could almost taste the freedom in her mouth when his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Miss Elizabeth!”

Was that urgency she heard in his voice? Kindness? Anger? Condescension? She no longer knew what to think of him. Before, she would have had no problem pegging the latter two on him. But things were different now. He was different. Or rather, she was coming to realize, only her perception of him was different – he had been this sort of a generous man all along.

Finally, she gathered enough courage to turn and face him, a forced smile on her face. “I thought you were in London.”

“No,” he replied, equally as awkward. “No, I’m not.”

“No…” Elizabeth echoed. Mr. Darcy should have known the only outcome of a meeting between the two of them in these circumstances would result in nothing but awkwardness. Oh why, oh why, then, did he have to give chase?

“We would not-”

“I came home early-”

They started at the same time, both equally as eager to say something to clear the air. Well, Lizzie thought, suppressing the urge to sigh. That sure went leagues towards clearing the awkwardness… Elizabeth Bennett was never one to give up, though.

“I’m in Derbyshire with my aunt and uncle,” she tried again.

Mr. Darcy nodded. From his expression, Lizzie didn’t know what to think. She would say he looked utterly bored, but that put her heart at utter unease. “And um, are you having a pleasant trip?”

“Very pleasant.”

“Are you staying at Lambton?”

The question was sudden and caught Elizabeth off guard. She could only muster out a small “Yes.”

Mr. Darcy nodded yet again, the same expression on his face. Elizabeth ignored the urge to fidget with her fingers. She would maintain at least that much dignity.

Her boring answer seemed to kill what little conversation they had finally ignited between them, and for a few awkward moments, they simply stood there, looking at each other. He really handsome, Elizabeth lamented. A handsome man with a handsome heart for a handsome house. She would probably never have fit into the atmosphere, anyways.

Suddenly, he started again. “May I see you back to the village?”

“No!”

The answer slipped from Lizzie’s mouth more forcefully than she would have liked, and she nearly winced at her own tone. The urge to wince only deepened upon seeing the look of hurt pass Mr. Darcy’s face, though it was gone in an instant. “I’m very fond of walking,” she added.

“Yes, yes I know.”

Another awkward comment. He seemed to be chalk full of them. Every fibre of Elizabeth’s being was tugging her away from the scene, and even as she cried out a “Goodbye Mr. Darcy!” she was already turning away, with only a hurried bow before exiting.

As Elizabeth hurried down the stairs, she dared not turn back to take a glimpse of his face. She was curious as she had never been curious before of what his expression might hold. Happiness? Longing? Relief? Boredom?

For once, Elizabeth refused her own curiosity. Though she internally blamed it on the recent bad outcomes of satiating her curiosity, she couldn’t rationalize away the nagging voice in her head that hinted at certain heartache if it had been anything but the former two.

As much as she liked to deny her own mind, the blush that was now spreading like wildfire across her cheeks also seemed inclined to agree with her treacherous mind.

and this is faith.

2012-04-30T16:02:01Z

Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Jon Snow
Prompts: 13. left behind
Word Count: 100
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.
Notes: Written for 500themes.

The news of the divided kingdom gave Jon thought to concern. He often thought of Robb, his best friend and now King of the North, so impossibly remote from Jon now. He also thought of Bran, who was at least safe for the time being.

Most of all though, he thought of Arya, the thin but headstrong little sister he’d adored. She worried him the most. Although news of her supposed death had reached him, Jon refused to believe in the hearsay.

Arya was strong. Jon believed with all sincerity that one day, he would once again ruffle her hair.

the blind truth

2012-04-30T15:57:40Z

Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fice
Characters: Joffrey Baratheon
Prompts: 59. through a child's eyes
Word Count: 200
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.
Warning: Mention of incest.
Notes: Drabble. Written for 500themes.

No matter how many peopled deemed him childish and immature, Joffrey was no fool. He’d heard the whispers about his father’s bastards, each one with hair blacker than the previous, their Baratheon lineage displayed proudly for all the world to see. Yet neither he, Myrcella nor Tommen had the dark hair and defined jawline of their parentage, or even a trace of the prominent Baratheon features to show. They were each as delicate, fair and blonde as their lady mother. So alike, in fact that, that they looked near carbon copies of her.

Looking at all his Lannister cousins, Joffrey could always see evidence of both mother and father in their features. That left Joffrey with only one possible way to explain away his parentage. His father was definitely a Lannister, one that looked near identical to his mother. There was only one Lannister that fit that description – who looked more like Cersei Lannister than her own twin brother?

Joffrey scowled. No matter what the truth was, he would never consider Jaime his father. Kingslayer and glorious Jaime might be, but Joffrey had been born a Baratheon, and he would carry that name with him until his last name day.

the extremes of selfishness

2012-04-30T02:59:37Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Hatake Kakashi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 30. a life of lies & cliches/ 06. pretending to be together & 05. "ano sa..."
Word Count: 1250
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Not really any KakaSaku in this one at all, filler part to move along the plotline.
Notes: Prequel is here. Written for 500themes & mission_insane & 30_kisses.

Sakura looked out at the crashing waves, her expression wistful, her heart listless. Had she done the right thing? It had been by no means impulsive, and she’d been so sure…but why did her heart feel so absolutely awful and empty? The expression they’d worn was heartbreaking, tugging and nagging at the conscience she’d long since stowed away. Kakashi’s had been so acceptingly sorrowful, and Genma’s so full of crushed hopes that her suppressed guilt flooded her, until she was awash with the feeling.

Five years, she thought. The time had passed her by so quickly, she hadn’t even had a mind to count them. The life of sweetness and peace suited her well, much better than she’d originally thought. Though the years had flown by for Sakura, all it had taken was one look for her to see that the same could not be said for Kakashi. Even beneath the mask, he’d looked haggard, age etched into every corner of his jaded body. For the pain she’d caused him, she felt so extremely apologetic, the word sorry didn’t even begin to cover it. But that was all she was sorry for.

Sakura refused to be sorry for anything else.

She had seen the bedazzled and eventually accusatory gleam in the two young ANBU’s eyes. Though they had been hidden in the shadows of the alley, she’d seen them. Theirs was a look she’d been preparing herself to see for years, ever since she made her selfish decision. It was a look that said, hey, you really look like Haruno fucking Sakura. But she was prepared. She’d spent the last five years training her instinct to not react, and it worked.

That was the story she’d been forcing her mind to believe, but her heart spun a completely different tale. Her weak heart was the reason she was sitting out here, alone and whimsical, wallowing in her denied guilt. It was the reason she would never again be able to continue living her blissfully ignorant civilian life.

“Ayako-chan?”

Sakura turned at the interruption. There to meet her gaze was Eiji, the civilian man that had found her half dead in the rubble. He’d been that one constant thing in her life, that one earthly thing that had kept her rooted to this false life. “Hey,” she said, patting the spot next to her.

Eiji followed her gesture and took the spot, sitting down. “Ayako-chan, are you okay? You’ve been really distant lately,” he said. In a quieter voice, he added, “Ever since those shinobi stayed at our inn a month ago.”

I’ve been that obvious, huh? Sakura mused to herself. She shook her head though, a futile denial. “I’m fine. There’s just a lot on my mind.”

“Are you…” he ventured, hesitant. “Are you by any chance remembering?”

And if you are, do those nin have anything to do with it? And if they do, were you one of them too? were the questions Sakura heard with his simple question. There was a moment of reflection as she pondered his unspoken inquiries, when the world ceased to move at all around her. There was only the hovering of the life she had fabricated and the life that was true, floating in the space that occupied the very air she breathed. It very nearly suffocated her.

At least she heaved in a breath, gruesome and heavy. She turned her sharp gaze onto the man, breathing, saying, “Eiji-kun. I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Surprisingly, it was not a look of shock that coated his features at her words, but one of patience and resignation. Sakura reeled inwardly. Was it possible that he had known all along? But there was no time to ponder that now. There was only enough time and effort left for her to speak and not think, because thinking would mean regretting.

With a deep breath, she started to tell him the story of one Haruno Sakura.

“Are you sure about this?”

Eiji nodded enthusiastically. Unfortunately, this only served to spark Sakura’s agitation further. It wasn’t his fault, really, but she’d been a ticking bomb ever since they’d set out from the town a week and a half ago, and he was the only nearby fuse. With every excruciatingly slow step they took towards Konoha, Sakura felt her anger rise and simmer. Eiji had insisted he be allowed to accompany her, and Sakura hadn’t had the heart to deny him. It meant having to walk at a baby’s pace, their mellow civilian steps taking them there at nearly five times the rate.

“I still think it’s awesome that you’re a kunoichi,” Eiji prattled on, pretty much nonsensically. “I mean, you can do so many amazing things. Walk on water, run so fast you’re pretty much flying, do jutsus…everything!”

“Being a shinobi is not about being glorious, Eiji, ” Sakura admonished through pinched lips. “All glory is fleeting.”

“Oh,” he blushed like a chastised child. “Right. Sorry.”

Sakura sighed and turned to give him a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Not your fault. I didn’t mean to snap anyhow. Just old shinobi rules and all that.”

“Yeah, I understand,” he mumbled.

Except he didn’t understand. Eiji knew this, and Sakura knew it better than he did. It was a truth that couldn’t be circumvented, and a truth that hung like the elephant in the room. He would never understand her, the Haruno Sakura that walked next to him now. They had absolutely nothing in common with each other. Eiji was realizing with every new step he took that this girl also had nearly nothing in common with the Ayako he’d come to love over the last five years.

“Well, Eiji-kun, we’re almost at Konoha now. Once we’re there, there’s no turning back.”

“I know, Ay-” he blushed at his mistake. “Sakura-chan. You don’t need to keep asking.”

“Right.”

It was her turn to turn away, and when she did, the looming gates of Konoha suddenly filled her vision. The sight of home struck Sakura like thunder bolts in winter, striking her, freezing her. It was happiness, angst and apprehension all mixed in one ball of fury, stabbing through her, leaving her suddenly weak of body and weak of heart. She barely suppressed the instinct to reach out and grab Eiji’s arm for support. For once, he kept his words to himself.

It was not even five minutes later when they reached the foot of the gates. In the three hundreds steps that Sakura had taken, all the apprehension had melted away, leaving her with only insatiable excitement. Two bored looking chuunin flickered their lazy gazes towards them when they stopped.

“State you-”

The chuunin stopped talking as he soaked in the image of the woman before him. It was a face they remembered well, a face that every Konoha shinobi knew well.

The guards looked uncertainly at the woman standing before them, then at each other... Pink hair…but that was impossible. She was dead, along with the rest of her legendary team. The one on the left exchanged an uncertain look with his partner before asking, hesitantly, “Name and business in Konoha?”

Sakura shot them an amused, yet impatient smile. “Haruno Sakura,” she started, drawling out each syllable. “Here to return to duty.”

The stunned looks on their faces were enough to convince Sakura that she’d made the right decision. And here it starts, Sakura thought, her smile growing until it curled deliciously on her face.

“Haruno Sakura?!”

i'll keep the lights out, i'll tell you fairy tales

2012-04-26T04:21:32Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Uchiha Itachi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 07. hardest truth & 37. training & 36. caught in the act
Word Count: 1824
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Notes: Part of a mini-series entitled Chiaroscuro. 9/31 complete. Sequels/Prequels can be found here at CHIAROSCURO. Written for lover100 & 50_shinobi & 500themes.

It was nearing eleven when the four decided to take a short break. They had already been training since the break of dawn, and it showed, because they were all sweat, dirt, and more sweat. Sakura looked sorriest of them all, but she had improved much since the very first time she’d trained with them. That time, she had done pretty much nothing but eat dirt for the entirety of their training session. It was an experience she had absolutely no wish to repeat. But that had been nearly two months ago, after they had all healed from their first mission together. Now, they had more than five missions under their belt together, and Sakura was adjusting well to their team dynamics.

Wiping her brow with her hand, Sakura laughed. “Next time I won’t be so nice, Shiranui.”

“You’ve got to be the most violent woman I know, Haruno.”

“Aww, when’d you become such a sweet talker?”

Genma smirked. “And only you would consider that a compliment.”

They reached the tree where Itachi and Shikamaru had already settled down under a moment later. With a smile, Sakura sat down between them. “How’d your spar go? Shika, you look like shit.”

At her good natured quip, the lazy man grunted. “Itachi’s a tyrant.”

Sakura was about to reply, but the neat boxes of food between them effectively distracted her. “Who brought the food?” On cue, her stomach growled. Sakura had the decency to at least blush slightly before picking up one of the rolls.

“Ino dropped by earlier to leave this for us.”

Sakura cooed. “Who knew Pig would adjust to domestic life so well?”

Shikamaru grumbled something under his breath about her troublesome living habits, but left it at that. Sakura wanted to giggle at how absolutely adorable they were, but managed to hold it in. Ever since the two of them had moved in together last month, their relationship had reached new heights. Ino’s domesticity for one, and Shikamaru’s taking initiative to do things, was another.

“Speaking of domesticity…”Genma started. Sakura knew the suggestive tone well, and paused in her chewing. “I heard we have another potential clan matriarch here with us today. Men, we should be so honoured!”

At this, Itachi also stopped eating. Clan matriarch? Did Sasuke propose? But even if he did, Sasuke wasn’t the clan heir. What is Genma spouting about?

Shikamaru raised a curious brow. “You and Sasuke are dating?”

“Wh-”

“Oh Sasuke! He completely slipped my mind,” Genma cut in before Sakura could interject. Genma turned to Sakura with an absolutely scandalized look. “Who knew you had it in you? I’m starting to look at you in a whole new light, Haruno. Two clan heirs fighting for you. Well, 1.5, I suppose, since Itachi here’s the actual heir.”

At the confused and angry look on Sakura’s face, Genma burst out laughing. “I’m just teasing, Haruno.”

“What’s this all about?” Shikamaru turned to Sakura also, curiosity shining in his dark eyes.

“Well…”

“She’s debating which clan will be less of a prison for her; Hyuuga or Uchiha. What do you think, Cap?”

Itachi said nothing in reply to Genma. Sakura dared to sneak a peak at him, but his obsidian orbs were more guarded and unreadable than usual. The silence hung heavy between them for seven tense seconds before Sakura burst out, “It’s not really anything with Neji. We just went out once.”

Genma shook his head in mock disappointment, clucking his tongue. “So that’s it then, you’ve settled on becoming the Cap’s dear sis-in-law? I hear the Hyuugas are a lot more fun than the Uchiha lot though.”

This time, there was no one to interrupt her as she blurted out a shocked, “What?!” She recovered slightly after a few seconds. “Who the hell said I was marrying Sasuke? Who said we were even dating?”

Genma gasped in mock surprise. “’tis no use denying it, princess. I saw it with my own little eyes.”

Again, that unfortunate memory came to mind. When Sakura realized Genma was referring to what he saw that night, she punched him “playfully” on the arm. The man barely kept in the grunt of pain.

“I know what you saw, Genma, but we’re not dating. Sasuke and Naruto are both brothers to me.”

“You sleep with all your brothers?”

Sakura sighed and shrugged. “We were inexcusably drunk. It was a one time thing.”

“A little birdie told me it was your first time, too,” Genma added with a slight snicker.

For the second time, Sakura looked affronted, but there was no malice nor truth behind this particular jab. “Who told you?”

At this point, Shikamaru, sensing the dangerous atmosphere that had been conjured by Genma’s careless jokes, interjected. He turned to Genma with a stern stare. “That’s enough. Leave the poor girl alone.”

Genma shrugged an okay. The familiar twinkle in his eye, though, hinted to all present that this was not the last of it. The easy atmosphere between the four had all but dissipated. A curtain of silence fell over them, thick and impenetrable.

Throughout the exchange, Itachi had been eerily quiet. Although not quite uncharacteristic of the stoic man, he was as intimate as he could be with all currently present. Usually, he would offer at least a sentence or two to the discussion. But today, he’d been completely silent, his mind whirling away.

We’re not dating. Sasuke and Naruto are both brothers to me. We’re not dating.

Sasuke had a lot of explaining to do. In actuality though, any explanation he could come up with, Itachi had probably already figured out. It was obvious by Sakura and Genma’s banter that at the very least, Sasuke and Sakura had slept together. This set a load of mild annoyance in Itachi’s chest, but it was a feather compared to the load it had just set free. The heaviness that had filled his person since Sasuke’s unceremonious “we’re dating” disappeared. Ironically, it was also the first time Itachi acknowledged it at all, having denied its very existence until that moment. Before, it would have been troublesome, as Shikamaru would have put it, to have any thoughts about his otouto’s girlfriend.

But now? a voice in his mind echoed.

But now, it was like he was that fourteen year old boy again, feeling the warmth of hope for the very first time. Hope was the feeling that the tiny slip of a girl had handed to him in the form of a bouquet. Hope was also the affection that she’d nurtured in his heart over the last nine years. Hope, as he’d soon learn, was the precursor to something entirely foreign to him.

From his peripheral, he saw Sakura give him a curious glance. Those open viridian orbs of hers were turbulent, vivid, vivacious, and unafraid. There were so many emotions dancing through them, and Itachi saw them all in that flash. Curiosity, shyness, amusement, dissipating anger…Itachi saw them all, more emotions at once than he’d ever allowed himself to feel, much less display.

Not for the first time, he realized how absolutely different they were. It was exactly this difference that had piqued Itachi’s interest in her for the first time, nine years ago. And it was still this difference that kept his mind and heart interested in this blossoming woman, a paradox in her own right.

Itachi itched to say something, to push her buttons a little, to tease her, even…but he refrained. Sasuke first, Sakura later. Although it irritated him to know that he’d been tricked by his little brother, it was the reason behind this trickery that had Itachi frowning. What could Sasuke possibly be planning? In this moment, it mattered not, though. Now that he knew the truth, there was plenty of time. Ever since he had boldly asked her to join their team, she was training with them nearly as much as with Team Seven.

The puzzle that was Sakura was one he wanted to take a long time to solve. This was now the real beginning, building off the foundation of nine little years. Whatever was to come in the next weeks, months and years was a mystery Itachi had no wish to rush through.

“Sasuke.”

The man in question looked up from his mission report, surprised that his aniki had spoken. “What?”

“You and Sakura have been dating for quite a while.”

“Yeah, so?”

Itachi folded up his newspaper neatly and set it down on the table. “Okaa-san would be quite delighted to know that Sakura is likely to become her daughter-in-law.”

It amused Itachi considerably to see Sasuke pale somewhat at his words. The latter recovered quickly though, and shrugged. “We haven’t thought about that yet. Plus, the longer Okaa-san is kept in the dark, the better it is for us. It’s just not necessary at this point.” Or at any point, really. Just until you get over your damn interest in her, Sasuke thought. The quicker the better. If she finds out, I’m fucked.

“I see. You two must not be so serious, then.”

“We are,” Sasuke all but barked, annoyed now. “And why do you care?” Saying this, Sasuke had an odd sense of déjà vu. Their last tense conversation had also been about Sakura. Sasuke did not like the implications of that.

“Really,” Itachi deadpanned, ignoring the latter part of his comment. “Her date with Hyuuga Neji must have been nothing, then.”

Sasuke froze. Sakura went on a date with Neji? What the fuck? When did this happen? Why the hell didn’t I know about it? He opened his mouth to reply but pinched his lips shut again. There was a curiously foreign expression on Itachi’s face, one that Sasuke had never seen before. Was this a god damn bluff?

He didn’t have a chance to find out, though, because Itachi had already gotten up. Before his older brother left the table, his expression darkened and he pierced Sasuke with his deadly gaze. “Genma mentioned that you two were dating today, but Sakura denied it with such vehemence…” Itachi faked a shrug. “You two must have some fantastic reason for keeping such secrecy, for her to hide it from even her own team mates.”

The for instance, because you’re not really dating went unsaid between them.

Itachi walked away then, leaving Sasuke to digest his words with an ashen face. Sasuke knew his aniki too well to not catch the unsaid implication. He knew that dangerous tone, that gaze of his. Itachi was warning him not to tread further, which meant…

Which meant, god damn it, that he knew. Sasuke brought his hands to his temples and started massaging. There was going to be hell and chaos around here, and soon. He could already feel a migraine coming on.

From the other room, Itachi smirked to himself. This was already proving to be more fun than he’d originally thought.

meet me at the gates

2012-04-25T04:09:58Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Uchiha Itachi & Haruno Sakura
Prompts: 001. the vacuum of time & 47. night & angst/10. miss you
Word Count: 700
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Character death.
Notes: Title and lyrics at the bottom taken from "meet me at the gates" by blessthefall. Written for 500themes & 50scenes & mission_insane.

-

“Shh,” she whispered, smoothing a hand through his ruffled locks. “Close your eyes and I’ll see you in the morning, darling.”

He smiled up at her through closed lids, and she only let her eyes stay on his figure long enough to glimpse his expression. It was too painful, entirely too painful, even now, to look at her precious baby’s face. There was no denying the similarity, and no erasing from her memory the figure from which her child’s face was moulded. In every soft giggle he bestowed upon her, with all the eye twinkles of mirth and childhood, Sakura’s heart died a bit.

While her heart chipped away at itself, she kept a soothing hand on her son’s back, bringing him the peace he needed to drift off into the other world. It took less than five minutes, as it always did, and with closed eyes, Sakura brought her lips down to brush a light kiss off his forehead.

Though the May air was not quite chilly in the humid forest they lived in, Sakura still pulled the blanket over her darling’s body, and by chance, caught another glimpse of his face. Her heart seized at his image, and she hastened away, out of the large glass doors and onto the balcony. There was no way to describe her claustrophobic-like symptoms, caused by her incurable heartache. How was it that she loved him with all her heart, yet it hurt like a million needle stabs to even look at him

Sakura heaved in a deep breath, letting the oxygen soak away her anxiety. There was no one to talk to about this, no one to share her pain. They had no one else but each other, but her son was only five, entirely too young to hear of or understand the reason for his solely maternal upbringing. And how would a mother go about phrasing that? You see, darling, the reason mommy is in so much pain at the mere sight of you is because you are a carbon copy of your dead father, who was blown to smithereens at the end of a very misunderstood career in which he was hunted by nearly every other shinobi on the planet. Sakura smiled wryly at her thoughts. That was one way to go about scarring her son’s mental status permanently.

But with every passing day, he grew to look more and more like Itachi, and Sakura was afraid that one day they would truly be indistinguishable in her mind. How would she be able to shoulder that? It would be like Itachi was once more here with her, but he would be untouchable, more distant than any geographical obstacle could put between them. He would be here, but not, and her son would serve as a daily reminder of everything that she had lost, would stab open again and again the bleeding heart that wouldn’t heal.

A forceful gust of wind blew by then, blowing dry the single tear that had escaped from Sakura’s iron will. It left a marked stained streak on her otherwise flawless face, a physical reminder of the scar that couldn’t be seen. Sakura wiped the evidence away hastily, afraid that this weakness would be the gateway.

Where are you now, Itachi? Are you finally at peace? Are you watching him grow up? He looks more like you with every passing day…

Along with a soft kiss, she blew these thoughts towards the night sky, darkened by the new moon and clouds. With a final, miserable smile towards the air, she slipped back into the house. The determination her one-sided conversation with Itachi had brought would last, at best, until the next night. This, too, was something she had learned to accept.

One day, one hour at a time, she would forge on, if not for her then for her son. Until the day she saw Itachi again, somewhere far-off and nonexistent, she would count the hours and live off his memory.

Breathe in softly,

But every breath I take’s like I can’t escape.

We’re saying goodbye but this is not the end.

I’ll see you on the other side when it is my turn.

your world is tiny; her heart is enormous

2012-04-24T05:03:47Z

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Uchiha Itachi & Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi
Prompts: 47. her body was found... & 30. innocence & taster table: 02. gen
Word Count: 1000
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Warning: Non-massacre AU. Gen fic!
Notes: Might possibly be a sequel in the future. Written for 500themes & lover100 & mission_insane.

Kakashi leaned back into the tree easily. His presence was thoroughly hidden – of that, he was positive. What he was witnessing though, was a little less clear to him. The identity of the man in question was not the problem. Kakashi had identified him easily, recognizing the mask and general aura of the younger man. They’d worked together on a few occasions, but that was before the other man had been granted a team of his own. Now, glimpses of Uchiha Itachi were few and far in between. They crossed paths every now and again at the ANBU headquarters, but they had never shared more than a polite incline of their heads. Not that anything more was required of mere acquaintances, and Kakashi had never given more thought to the boy. Kakashi was not an easy person to impress. Even the Uchiha’s ascension to Captain at the early age of 13 had interested Kakashi marginally at best.

This though…this was something else entirely. Kakashi had written Uchiha Itachi off long ago as someone cut from the same mould as the rest of the pack. Stoic, hard, billed to be shinobi to the very core of their being. Kakashi had also placed himself in that category easily. But his judgement seemed to have been slightly off in his calculation of the Uchiha prodigy. Kakashi’s unmasked eye narrowed. He did not enjoy being proven wrong.

It was with slight annoyance that he regarded the other person in the sparse clearing. She was barely even a slip of a girl, probably no more than nine years of age. The sharp sniffles that emanated from her tiny lips were irritating, but Kakashi could see the tiniest signs of struggle on her broad face. There were light lines of fight etched onto her milky skin, as if she was resisting the instinctive feminine, childish need to cry. That, and the fact that she showed no outward signs of fear toward the still masked ANBU made her a curious sight. Though she continued with her muffled sniffling, she had turned her eyes upward to regard Itachi with something akin to curiosity.

Kakashi was surprised by the sparkling hue of her eyes, enhanced by the tears still lingering tenaciously to her ducts. They were vivid with interest and curiosity, and their innate lack of fear made her oddly…impressive.

Kakashi watched with lazy, mild interest as Uchiha Itachi took two tentative steps towards the little creature. When the little sprite only tilted her head curiously, a lock of her appallingly cerise hair tumbling with the movement, Itachi closed the gap between them. Even with the strange, masked man before her, no fear radiated off the girl, only interest. The shock of this enigmatic presence had her hiccupping thrice as the tears stopped flowing.

“Are you lost, little one?”

Itachi’s voice was surprisingly gentle as he squatted down next to her. The little thing shook her head violently, but a hiccup caught her simultaneously. She shook slightly with the added force. “No, ANBU-san. I hurt my foot earlier, and so I can no longer walk.”

Itachi looked down at said limb, and true to her word, her right foot had started to swell and discolour. But suddenly there was a toothy smile on her tear marked face as she waved it away. “I acted silly, didn’t I, ANBU-san?” the little girl then laughed, a sparkling sound that bounced and echoed through the trees. “Crying wouldn’t have solved the problem at all. Big girls don’t cry. Kunoichis don’t cry!”

There was such force to her assertion that not only Itachi was taken aback. From his hiding place within the forestry, Kakashi felt his interest in this fragile, tiny girl grow. So she wants to be a kunoichi, the copy nin thought. She seemed to have the determination, but Kakashi doubted she’d experienced anything difficult or gruelling yet, and as much as she had piqued his interest for the moment, his mind had already given a small cap to how far her abilities would progress. If this little girl made it any further than genin, Kakashi would be very, very surprised.

The silver-haired man couldn’t discern the reaction her statement had on the Uchiha male. Whatever his thoughts had been, though, it seemed the two ANBU had not thought alike. Itachi extended a tentative hand out towards the injured girl.

“It will be dark soon. Allow me to take you home.”

Without hesitation, she put her small, chubby hands within his and clutched tightly. Her grip must have surprised Itachi, because he didn’t hoist her up immediately. When he did, though, he was careful not to tousle her in fear of putting her in pain. The little smiled shyly. “It’s okay, ANBU-san, you don’t have to be so careful. I’m not so fragile! I directed some chakra to that area so it doesn’t hurt much anymore.”

For the second time that day, both ANBU reeled inwardly at the shock of her words. “You healed it?” Itachi asked quietly.

The girl looked confused by his words and shook her head softly. “Heal it? You can do that with chakra?” There was awe in her voice at her new revelation, but she shrugged a moment later. “I don’t know how to do that much. I’m not good enough. Yet! All I can do is focus chakra and dull pain.”

“That is very impressive.”

“You think?” Kakashi saw the girl beam from her position on Itachi’s back. Now that Itachi had no fear of causing the girl further discomfort, he settled back on the more traditional method of shinobi travel. Within seconds the two had disappeared beyond Kakashi’s normal vision, towards the still-hidden village gates.

A foreign feeling settled into the depths of Kakashi’s being, but it was nothing unsettling. It wasn’t so much curiosity, but it was of consequence, as his decision was already a certainty in his mind. From now on, he would keep pink on the scope of his narrow world.