RISING FROM THE RUBBLE

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It's something delicate, peace.

Sometimes you have to fight for it, force yourself to feel a certain way or you have to let go of— actually, more like rip off something that clings to you like a parasite. Leech. But then sometimes, like now, you just wake up with it, and you get up, and it stays with you for a while. And you're a little bit scared that it'll disappear soon enough, like it has done so before.

Don't.

Just breathe it in, let it course through your veins like a drug, buzzing and making you just a little more alive.

Like I do.

After all, in days like these, finding even a little bit of peace is like finding gold at the other end of the rainbow.

When I woke up today, I didn't feel the pain on my busted up shoulder. It's turned into a dull throbbing now. And I've learned not to mind the dust and grime that sticks to various body parts, I'm just glad we still find a way to regularly bathe actually.

Thank God for the small blessings.

And waking up in time for the sunrise. God.

It's been so long since I've woken up when my body tells me to. Not when I'm being jarred awake and urged to run like a bat out of hell. Not because the ceiling is caving in and I'm in danger of burning in a fire.

It's always a fire.

I see the raging inferno almost daily now, so much so that I've come to expect the heat enveloping me. Not that I enjoy it. Nobody does.

But this warmth from the just-rising sun, contrasting with the still-cold air of the previous night?

It. Is. Delicious.

I step forward to the edge of the roof of what was once a tall skyscraper overlooking the city. I don't care if anybody sees me; I just stand there with feet apart and arms open wide, ready to receive the world. I stand at this height, looking down at the pathetic wasteland of structural and human debris so far below.

And this is why peace is such a dangerous thing. It makes you feel so secure, even if you have no logical reason to be.

When in a few seconds later, you could be shot at or— God forbid— incinerated by a fireball flying at you at a velocity of Mach speed.

Instead I get fake-tackled from behind, nearly making me slip and fall off the edge except for a sudden, strong pull from behind.

I end up on the ground, small pieces of rubble digging into my back, with the heavy weight of my attacker pressing on me from above. I'd knock his jaw loose if our limbs weren't so tangled together.

"God, you're such a…" his hot breath tickling my cheek, "Sentimental idiot, Sakura."

I bop my forehead to his lightly because it's the only way I can retaliate. "And you're a complete asshole, Sasuke."

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A/N:

Welp, no. I don't know what this is. Just felt like writing. So maybe it's just drabble. Or maybe something I can continue, if you're curious enough.

Anyway, here's my little midnight offering.