Hi, (waves) so yeah still don't own Naruto, it's kinda lookin' hopeless for me. Anyhoo, this is not a lovey-dovey, vomit inducing Sakura/Sasuke story, be warned.
A/N : Mitsukai means angel in Japanese.
Coal eyes stare out into the endless indigo night. Lounging in the shadows, he takes in the sight of sleeping Kohona, of home. So long, he had fought against ties to this place, and now, here he stands, more at peace than he had been in years. There were, of course, other reasons for his return, he didn't deny that. Sakura. Just the thought of cherry blossom hair and forest eyes shining with mirth make a faint smile cross his face. Heavy lids slide shut, letting a tired mind rest. A warm spring wind plays with strands of his hair, carrying on it a presence he couldn't mistake. Tensing, and then leaping down to a dusty road, he flies through the dark, needing to see her, now.
Following familiar streets, he comes to the place he should've expected to find her. And its so damn cliché that she's here, he can't fight the groan that escapes him. Pink head snapping up so fast, he's not so sure it's humanly possibly, turning wide green eyes on him. Something in his chest twists upon the sight of agony in those beautiful orbs, even more so knowing himself the cause. Standing on shaking legs, walking unsteadily towards him, so breathtaking it hurts him. Pale peach flesh, petal hair barely brushing her chin, just like when he left, and yet different, perfect rose lips pulled into a frown, and those eyes, an angel.
"You." She mutters softly, he takes a step forward, she flinches.
Drawing back, hands up, palms showing, near his chest. "Mitsukai." He soothes, tears make emerald shine, he takes another step, at least she doesn't flinch.
"How dare you?" She whispers scathingly, wiping stray crystal drops. "How dare you just waltz back into our lives, my life, and act innocent?"
He freezes, stunned by her reaction, the hostility in her words and posture. Opening his mouth to reply, to tell her why he came back, to apologize, she growls.
"Don't even try that half-ass story about revenge, you coward! Just the thought of you repeating that 'poor-me' tale makes me feel homicidal." She snarls lowly, he never knew such acidic words could come from such a sweet mouth.
"Saku-"
"No! You think you can just hurt the people who loved you, and then they forgive you, no matter the sin. Well, Sasuke you need to come out that damn dream world of yours and see not all of us love you anymore." Again, all he can do is gape; did he make her like this? Did leaving really hurt her that much?
"Don't you mean you, not 'us'?" He questions gently, not wanting to cause her anymore pain than he already has. She laughs, and it makes him gag how close it resembles his, mocking and cold. Quieting herself, allowing a delicately cruel smile remain, she regards him with dull eyes.
"True," She begins lightly, as if merely discussing the weather. "I grew up, and gave up on you because loving you was killing me. You never cared about me, in any sense, and I would've given my life for yours in a heart beat, without regret. The dead mean more to you then the living." She finishes, that same anguish kissing her words, he feels the words that will hurt her more rise in his throat. Clawing for escape, as he fights them, he can't say them, not now.
"Sakura, I breathe for you, I live for you alone." He murmurs, so soft and velvety, that for a moment, she pauses, believing him. Watching her, he notes her walls retreat for a moment, her resolve weaken, and he hopes.
"You live for yourself and the hatred of your dear brother, nothing else." She mutters, disgusted, the caustic truth of his past tortures him. He tries to make something come out of his suddenly dry throat.
She sighs, too tired and sad for her. "You should go see Naruto; he'll be thrilled to see you." She urges, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Sakura."
"Don't, I'm sick of crying." She shakes her head, holding up a hand.
He nods, looking broken. "Forgive me?"
"I'll try." She promises, walking around him, and down the street he had followed here. Moving to sit on the bench, he lets his face fall into his hands. Musing the bitter irony of him left crying, while she walks away without remorse.
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