Lilies and Lightning
The two of them tucked themselves away on the hillside when they were six, and they tossed smooth rocks while humming. The stones skimmed the deep creek's surface, and when they plunged into the vastness of water, Ino and Sakura shed their clothes and followed suit.
It didn't matter that, afterwards, Ino tanned beautifully while Sakura's skin burned raw pink, clashing with the exotic coloring she already had.
They were happy. In the shallow area near the edge of the land, they skipped over the mud beneath their feet and they smiled at the sky while the sun glowed with its golden radiance, kissing them all over.
It didn't matter that, sometimes, Ino swam out too far and Sakura had to call for her friend's father to rescue her.
They were happy. The gentle waves crashed and bent, and they floated with the wind-driven current, arm in arm.
It didn't matter that, one time, Ino lost her favorite hairclip to the water and Sakura spent hours diving for it, troubled by how the girl's thin, buttermilk-blonde hair hung in her face, obscuring the pools of blue that she peered out at the world with.
They were happy. …And when Hyuuga Hinata was brave enough to join them one day, they were even happier.
The natural light brought out a violet shine in her dark hair, and her wide, lavender eyes were comparable to the soft sprays of lilacs that bloomed along the bank.
At first she stepped with trepidation, pale arms flung out to use as a means of balance. She looked so fragile, lost among the wet landscape, and at first Sakura and Ino feared for her.
It took four hours to coax her into swimming more than a few feet out, and even then Sakura stayed by her side, ready in case the newcomer slipped. Hinata learned quickly and fell only once, coming up sputtering for air with a lily pad atop her head.
It seemed, for a long moment of silence, that she was going to break into tears, but when Ino gave an assuring smile and a solid promise, the tears failed to spill over her cheeks.
The promise was this: if Hinata agreed to wear a blindfold for a while, Sakura and Ino would show her their clubhouse.
The day turned quiet and the silver-lined clouds bled purple, bruising the sky with an angry shade. Rain poured from above, and on the clubhouse's tin roof, the little pelts clattered and streamed and echoed.
Inside, lining the walls, were tables sized just right for children to hold tea parties with, and stools just the right height for a stuffed toy to perch on top of. Lightning shook the property.
As it continued raining and the creek flooded, the three of them let out peals of laughter and waited for their clothes, discarded in a pile near the door, to dry.
By the time the rain ended, their clothes were still wet and the girls were still happy.
Fin.