A/N: Why can't I have normal addictions? Why can't I be addicted to drugs or alcohol or cigarettes or gambling or sex like everybody else? Noooo...I have to have the weird addictions, stuff like semi-colons and the phrase "not so much" and the word "indeed" and livejournal challenge communities. And really angsty wedding fics. That's right - I have a hard core addition to extremely angst filled wedding stories, mostly the ones where someone is getting married even though they love someone else. But there aren't nearly enough of them. So I decided to write one. But then I decided, hey, it's a wedding, weddings are very ritualistic, why not cram the story full of symbolism? Yeah...not nearly as easy as it seemed at the time. Never doing that again - it took me a month, cause it was so hard to work out the pacing with the symbolism. But the symbolism is there - and because I am incredibly nice, and sat through 2 years of AP English where we had to pick novels apart to their individual symbolism molecules, finding stuff the author never even intended, I'm sure, most of the less obvious symbolism is explained at the bottom. Warning: mostly it's pretty dark stuff. Lots of death symbolism; make of it what you will. Still, despite the difficulties, I am inordinately proud of this fic - it's Sakura-centric Sasunaru with a Sakura who is not a raving bitch or a stalking fangirl, since I like Sakura a lot, I got to hint at one of favorite Sakura pairings, SakuIno, and I got to do a lot of experimental stylistic stuff. I hope you like!
Disclaimer: You think I own Naruto? Ha! I'm worried about being able to afford sheets for the bed in my dorm room, let alone buying the rights to the most popular manga in the world. Psycho.
"Blah" present tense - Sakura's wedding day
"Blah" past tense - flashbacks (or at least stuff that took place in the past)
(blah) - foreshadowing, Inner Sakura
Happily Ever After
Sakura is getting married today.
In a few hours' time, Sakura will be Uchiha Sakura for the rest of her life, and everyone will see once and for all that Sasuke is hers and hers alone, just like she dreamed when she was a little girl all full of love and childlike idealism.
It is the happiest day of her life.
(that burning feeling in the pit of her stomach, that was just nerves, because this was a big day, the big day. it wasn't fear and it certainly wasn't regret.)
They are having a traditional, formal Japanese wedding; no Western costumes, no silly modern customs, but kimonos and hakamas and a fortuneteller in the village who made sure it was an auspicious day for getting married.
The only difference is that Tsunade will perform the service, rather than some Buddhist priest brought in from outside the village.
She insisted, with that Hokage-edge in her voice that even Sasuke had to listen to.
He hadn't resisted. Being married by the Hokage herself, he said, would impress all the clan leaders, shinobi and civilian alike, who will be at the wedding reception, watching Sasuke with old and bitter eyes to see if he lives up to their expectations of an Uchiha.
Sasuke told her he would have preferred a smaller wedding, a simpler wedding, just the two of them and a few friends, nothing fancy. But he is Uchiha Sasuke, and he is the head of the Uchiha Clan --
(even if the uchiha clan consists more or less of him, and in a few hours her, and how much power do you wield when you command only yourself?)
-- and has the honor of the Clan to uphold, and a clan leader must have a traditional wedding so that he can display his strength and his wealth and his new bride to all the other powerful clans of the Fire Country.
She said she didn't mind, and she meant it, because this is a fairy tale come true. This is the kind of wedding girls dream about, the kind she and Ino sighed and giggled over, imagining themselves as the princess carried off by the handsome prince to live happily ever after.
(even if happily ever after was for silly little girls. not for big girls who had heard the rasp as kunai sheared through bone and used chakra, a needle and thread to hold a jounin's insides inside where they belonged.)
And now it is the day of the wedding, and Sakura is at the Uchiha compound, where the wedding and the reception will be held, getting dressed in the room he gave her to prepare for her marriage. She stares at the white kimono laid out smooth on the bed, and is astonished at how beautiful it is, how elegant it is.
She hasn't seen it before.
Sasuke insisted that he would buy it, that it would be a surprise, and she is glad she let him, because it is perfect, the most beautiful, flawless thing she has ever seen, and probably cost more than she earns in a year.
(she forgot how much they fought when he picked it out without asking her, without even telling her).
It is white, as befits a wedding kimono, and Sakura is glad, because white is the best color. White is the color of peace, of purity, of perfection.
(white was a color of mourning.)
It takes her a long time to put on her kimono by herself. The Harunos are not a clan, not even particularly rich, just an ordinary shinobi family like so many in the village, and she's never worn a kimono before, although she's often dreamed and pretended to. It is more complicated then it looks, and she feels silly, trying to figure out what goes where and what holds up what, and she gets so flustered that she almost gives up in disgust, and when she finally has it on, it doesn't look quite right, and she is sure she's done it wrong somehow.
But it is worth it, because she wants to look beautiful for Sasuke. She wants to look like she deserves him.
(ino turned pale when she came in and saw sakura with her kimono on, right side smoothly folded over left, obi tied neatly in a bow in the front. She frowned and pursed her lips and ordered sakura to strip so she could dress her properly, and laughingly asked sakura what she'd do without her.)
Sakura feels Ino's hands trembling as she brushes out her pale pink hair, longer than when she was twelve but still barely past her shoulders, and deftly weaves combs and strings of beads through it.
It reminds her of how Sasuke's hands shook when he proposed to her.
They were sixteen and he came back from Orochimaru with Naruto cradled in his arms, and when the Hokage ordered him to empty his packs the heads of Orochimaru and Itachi spilled grotesquely across her desk.
Naruto, pale but cheerful in the hospital bed they practically had to tie him to, refused to say what he'd done to get Sasuke to come home.
(and she avoided looking into his eyes when she asked, because it scared her that she couldn't recognize the emotions he couldn't keep himself from showing.)
Sasuke was put on trial, as everyone expected, and Sakura held her breath and closed her eyes when they read the verdict, terrified that they would call for death, because she would die too.
He was sentenced to six months of house arrest under ANBU guard, and probation for a year after that, and Sakura sobbed in relief while he sat calm and stoic as always, staring straight ahead.
Sakura hadn't expected everything to go back to the way it used to be just because Sasuke came back. But when he was finally let out of his house and Team 7 was once again a team and the Hokage started finding D-rank missions for them to do, it felt like the last three years had just been a bad dream. Kakashi came to training late; Naruto asked her out and called Sasuke names; Sasuke ignored everyone. It was just the way it would have been if Orochimaru had never taken Sasuke away. It was how it was supposed to be.
Until the day he proposed to her.
It took Sakura by surprise, though she didn't know why. Everything about the dinner date screamed proposal, from the hesitant way he asked her out to the expensive restaurant in the best part of the village to the outfit he wore that made him look wealthy and refined and oh-so-gorgeous. But she still nearly dropped her wine glass when the words will you marry me came from that arrogant, flawless mouth, and she had to ask him to repeat it.
Maybe it was because if anyone had asked her yesterday, she wouldn't have said they were dating, since this was the first time he'd asked her out.
Maybe it was because for all her persistence, she'd never seen a single sign that he thought of her as anything other than a nuisance.
Maybe it was because when he asked, his voice never changed from that cold and level half-dismissing sneer she was so familiar with.
But she saw the way his hands trembled, and she knew that he was nervous and earnest and eager no matter what his face and voice said, he loved her and he wanted this and he meant it, he really did.
(she tried to think that if he didn't want her to know how he really felt, it was only because he loved her so much he was scared.)
She squealed loudly when she finally understood, so that the whole restaurant would hear her and look at her and see that she'd won the prize that everyone wanted, that Sasuke loved her and not any of them, that she was the one who had just had all her dreams come true.
She didn't stop to consider his proposal; she didn't need any time to think about her answer. She flung herself into Sasuke's arms and told him yes as quickly as she could speak, because she was afraid that if she didn't get the words out fast enough this would all vanish like a popped soap bubble.
But it didn't disappear – Sasuke's arms were warm and solid as he held her and kept her from slipping to the floor, and she could feel his warm breath in her ear when he told her not to make a scene. The words were angry, but his hands around her waist were gentle, and she could see that he was almost not-quite smiling as he spoke.
(she couldn't forget his eyes though, and the impression she had of frantic fluttering wings; a bird about to be caged, desperate to escape.)
Behind her, Ino hums softly in satisfaction as she pins a final fold in Sakura's headdress. Spinning her chair around, Ino seizes an elbow and drags her up. Sakura allows herself to be turned slowly, lets Ino examine her from every angle to make sure her hair and clothes are perfect.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Sakura giggles; she looks so beautiful, so sophisticated, so adult, she barely recognizes herself as the girl who spends most of her days covered in blood from surgery, mud and sweat from training. Seeing herself now, she can almost see why Sasuke is in love with her – she looks like the fairy tale princess, like a perfect porcelain doll.
Sakura smiles and smoothes her kimono over her stomach. She knows that will be where everyone's eyes are trained, searching fervently for the first slight bulge that will show she is carrying Sasuke's child, that the Uchiha Clan has an heir again.
Even in this dress however, it is obvious that her stomach is as smooth and flat as ever.
(she wondered if everyone would be disappointed to see the evidence that she wasn't pregnant; she wondered if the whispers would have called her a slut if she were.)
There was something vaguely surreal about being engaged to Sasuke, some part of her that didn't want to wake up in the morning for fear it would all have vanished overnight. Sakura suspected that she'd been wishing so long for Sasuke to be hers that when it finally happened, she didn't trust it to be real.
It might have helped if anything between them had changed. It would have been easier to reassure herself that she was really getting married if Sasuke had acted like he were courting her – if he took her out to dinner or brought her flowers or even merely treated her in training with something more than courteous indifference.
They didn't even plan the wedding together; Sasuke presided over the wedding plans like a feudal lord over land negotiations, which Sakura supposed was closer to the truth than not. Sasuke talked to the caterer and arranged for the cake, picked the flower arrangements and decided on the clothes they both would wear. Sasuke told her he wanted to spare her any trouble, wanted to surprise her, wanted to make sure everything was perfect for her.
Sakura told herself that he really was trying to be kind to her, that she didn't want all the stress of planning such a large wedding, that she wouldn't know the preparations necessary for a traditional clan wedding anyway. Sakura told herself that it didn't matter if he never took her out on dates, or bought her expensive, useless presents, or sat and talked idly with her when they rested during training. She told herself that he had other ways of showing his love.
(sometimes late at night she thought that he was doing his best to forget he was getting married, but that couldn't be true. it couldn't.)
Even late at night when she doubted everything else in her life, Sakura never had second thoughts about her wedding to Sasuke. She had loved him enough to sacrifice everything for him when she was twelve; she certainly wasn't going to give him up now, not when everything was finally about to end the way it was supposed to, the fairy tale ending everyone had agreed on long ago.
She knew Sasuke felt the same, even if she couldn't believe it. She had always known, even as she vied desperately for Sasuke's attention, that she wasn't worthy of him, that someday he would find some girl as beautiful and strong and perfect as he was, and she wouldn't stand a chance. But now, it seemed, he had seen something in her, and he loved her for it, he loved her and only her, even if she couldn't understand why, and she would never give that up.
She asked him, once, why he had proposed to her I need to resurrect the Uchiha Clan, he told her calmly. He paused for a long moment and added, and you are perfect, and Sakura was happier than she'd ever been before.
(he didn't say what she was perfect for, and sakura didn't dare to ask. she wasn't sure she wanted to know.)
When she thought about it, Sakura had to admit that for any disappointment she had only herself to blame; she had no right to expect Sasuke to change just because they were engaged. She had no right to expect him to forget his past, his family, and be instantly happy; no right to expect him to go against his character and become a warm, friendly person.
She had fallen in love with her cold, silent, mysterious prince; she should have known that he wouldn't suddenly open up like the bishonen hero of some romance manga. She should have known he wouldn't be eager to talk to her, to kiss her, to touch her, to sleep with her. And humming softly to herself as she made lunch for him in the mornings, she had confidence that once he was hers, she could change him, slowly but surely.
(it didn't hurt at all when she tried to touch him and he flinched, when she tried to kiss him and he cringed.)
Sometimes Sakura saw her fellow kunoichi in the village – Hinata chasing after Kiba and their son, Temari glaring at Shikamaru while he kept a protective eye on her swollen belly – and thought of the children she and Sasuke would have. There was no question of if, she had always known how much it mattered to him to bring the Uchiha clan back to glory, and even though it scared her, she had dreams about beautiful brilliant pink and black haired Uchiha babies who would be the best of both of them.
She knew everyone in the village expected him to tumble her the first opportunity he had, expected her to already be starting to show by the time they wedded, and truth be told, she wasn't averse to the idea. But Sasuke had never tried anything, never even suggested anything, and the few times she had leaned close and whispered in his ear, he had looked confused and faintly frightened, as if he didn't quite know what she wanted.
It had never occurred to her that he might still be a virgin, after all those years in Sound, but that was the only explanation she could think of.
It sent a sweet shiver down her spine to think he'd saved himself for her all that time, and she loved him even more when she realized he wanted to wait until they were married so that she would keep her virtue.
(it didn't explain why the one time she had mentioned the children they would have together his eyes had widened and his face had paled before he looked away, why he never brought it up, but she was sure he had a reason.)
In her dressing room, Sakura is almost ready. Ino sweeps one last critical eye over her before nodding in satisfaction. All that is left to complete her image as the virginal bride are her flowers and her fan, and as Sakura carefully sits down again, Ino turns to the table where they lie.
First is her bouquet, a cluster of bridal roses bound with silk ribbon. Holding them close, Sakura studies the pale pink blossoms, inhaling the faint sweet fragrance, before setting them down carefully on her dressing table for later.
When she turns back to face her, Ino has flowers for her hair, a spray of large white rosebuds, and she leans close to tuck them behind Sakura's ear, held there against her hair and her headdress with a small pin.
Sakura leans forward to examine it in a mirror, and as she runs her fingertips lightly over the flowers she counts them – one, two, three, four.
Last of all is the fan that Sakura is supposed to tuck into her obi so that she can take it out during the ceremony, snap it open, a little more each time she takes it out, the spreading fan like their growing happiness together. Sasuke gave it to her, said his mother had carried it on her wedding day, and when Ino hands it to her she snaps it open, all the way, and studies the pattern traced in ink inside.
A background of pale cream, swirled to suggest wind or water, subtle motion, and against it a twisted branch of a cherry tree in bloom; Sakura counts, and again it is one, two, three, four large white sakura blossoms clinging to the tree, and floating, falling in-between them are four poppy flowers, crimson splashes that stand out garishly in the otherwise pale design.
The red is startling, almost shocking, and Sakura loves it; it reminds her of passion, of life, and most especially of love.
(it reminded her of blood.)
Closing the fan and tucking it into her sash, Sakura looks up at the clock on the wall. It is almost time for the wedding; everyone will be gathered outside by now, greeting each other and finding their seats, Tsunade will be tapping her shoe impatiently and wishing for a drink, the feudal lords will be mingling with each other, playing subtle little evil games.
Even Naruto will be there, in the hakama Tsunade grudgingly loaned him, standing next to her ready to play his part as Sasuke's go-between.
Sakura remembers how Naruto's eyes scrunched shut when Sasuke asked him to do it. He protested, saying he didn't know what to do, Sasuke should get someone better, the village and the lords wouldn't approve of the demon boy playing such an important role. Sasuke insisted, though, and Naruto finally gave in and agreed, laughing and grinning so broadly that his eyes vanished again.
(sakura remembered that grin from their childhood, when he used to smile to pretend he didn't want to cry.)
Standing again slowly, Sakura takes a deep, shaky breath, and steadies herself against the back of her chair when her knees unexpectedly tremble. She feels Ino's hand wrap around her wrist, and the blonde asks if she is alright. Sakura smiles and reassures her she is just nervous, now that she is finally down to it.
Ino's tone is a familiar mix of mockery and covert kind concern when she asks if she is sure about this, and Sakura remembers the last time she asked that.
Sakura went to Ino's house straight from the restaurant where Sasuke proposed, blurted out her news right there on the doorstep the second a sleepy Ino opened the door. She didn't know what reaction she'd expected, whether she'd thought Ino would be happy for her or furiously jealous that she'd won the contest of so many years.
She didn't expect Ino's eyes to fill with pity before she swept her into a tight hug, as though she needed consoling. When she wrestled out of Ino's grasp and laughingly told her she had won, Ino only shook her head and said that was alright with her; when Sakura asked her if she still wanted Sasuke, Ino muttered that she'd given up long ago; when Sakura exclaimed that she loved him, Ino only asked if she was sure.
And then Ino hugged her again, and invited her in for tea, and everything was fine between them again; in the weeks after, Ino was even more excited about the wedding than Sakura, and she didn't think anything about the conversation on Ino's porch in the middle of the night.
(it wasn't as if there was anything strange in ino's giving up on him; how many girls had done the same when he betrayed the village?)
Now, Sakura squeezes Ino's hand reassuringly, and whispers that yes, she is sure she is fine, yes, she is sure she loves Sasuke, yes, she is sure she wants to marry him, yes, she is sure.
Ino doesn't answer her; she leans forward, gently brushes a strand of hair out of Sakura's eyes back into place, and presses her lips ever so lightly against her forehead.
Sakura is still dazed when Ino pulls back, eyes dancing, and shoves her towards the door, exclaiming that she should get out there and impress everyone with how beautiful she is, even with such an enormous forehead.
It is a long walk between her dressing room and the courtyard where the wedding will be, and Sakura walks slowly, her pace gradually dwindling to a snail's crawl as she gets closer and closer.
She doesn't count the minutes, but it feels like hours before she finally reaches the ornate door she knows she is supposed to enter through, and when she stands in front of it, she finds she can't move.
She knows that all that is left before she will have Sasuke, the only thing she's ever wanted, is to open the door and walk the hundred or so feet to where Naruto and Tsunade and Sasuke wait for her, but she can't do it. She pictures everyone outside sitting there watching for her, pictures Tsunade with her bored glare, Naruto with his broad grin – pictures Sasuke, and she just can't do it.
Unconsciously, Sakura clasps her engagement ring, turning it around and around slowly on her finger. It is a simple ring, just a plain gold band set with a small diamond; only an expert would know how truly expensive it was, and only she knows how much time Sasuke spent, trying to find the perfect ring.
As she twists it again, Sakura's nail catches, and she pauses, taking in a sharp breath.
The crack is tiny, thin, all but invisible; anyone who looks at the ring would think it is flawless, the fault only evident to someone who already knew it is there.
Sakura knows it is there. She knows where it came from, too.
As soon as they got engaged, Sakura started cooking for Sasuke; her mother told her it was what good wives did, and she had seen the meals he prepared for himself – her cooking wasn't spectacular, but it was better than a steady diet of onigiri and tomatoes. So, on the days they went on missions she packed a bento for herself and one for him, and on the days they trained together, she ran home at lunch and brought something back for him to eat.
A week before the wedding, Sakura went home to get their lunch, and when she came back, Sasuke was nowhere to be seen. Kakashi-sensei told her, without looking up from his book, that Sasuke had said something about going back to the clearing to spar with Naruto; Sakura dumped the lunchboxes on the grass beside him and went to bring the two of them back.
She knew, when she approached the clearing and heard only silence, that something was wrong; she told herself they were probably just resting, but she still went on alert, moving as silently through the trees as she could, in case an enemy was waiting for her.
She thought at first, the way they were kneeling on the ground, that one of them was wounded. But their chakra looked normal, and she couldn't see any blood, and they were just kneeling there, facing each other, Sasuke holding Naruto's wrists between them.
And then Sasuke leaned forward, and kissed him.
Sakura gasped, and jerked back like she'd been struck with a kunai, and a branch cracked loudly beneath her feet. Sasuke and Naruto jumped apart at the sound, and Sasuke leapt to his feet. She ran, but he was faster, and she'd only made it a few yards away before he caught her, clinging to one hand to stop her getting away.
It wasn't what it looked like, he told her furiously as she sobbed and tried to break his grip. She demanded to know what it was, then, and he was nearly shouting as he told her it was nothing, Naruto had something in his eye, he was just helping the idiot. Nothing happened, he hissed again, and his hand was so tight around hers she could hear her fingers pop, and the tears sliding down her face were half from pain. Nothing happened, he insisted, and this time she repeated it, voice barely a whisper. We're still getting married, he told her, and we're going to forget this, because nothing happened. She nodded in agreement, still crying, and he let her go and stormed off.
She stood there for a long time, and then she went back and ate her lunch with Sasuke, and didn't say anything about what she'd seen, because after all, nothing had happened.
(but she still remembered still remembered everything, and when she looked at her ring that night, there was a tiny crack that hadn't been there before, and she couldn't forget.)
Sakura can hear the first strains of the wedding music from the other side of the door; if she doesn't appear soon, people will start talking, probably someone will be sent to look for her. Rubbing her thumb one last time over the smooth, flawed gold of her ring, Sakura steels herself, and pushes the large doors open.
The large courtyard is packed with people, row after row of seats full. As she walks sedately down the aisle, trying to match her pace to the music, Sakura glances around cautiously, trying to pick people she knows out of the crowd.
(trying to look anywhere but at sasuke, in case she lost her nerve.)
She sees Hinata and Kiba, discreetly holding hands. Chouji is towards the back, probably hoping to escape quickly to the buffet. One row is almost nothing but jounin: Gai grinning bright enough to blind, Genma with a hand groping Raidou's thigh, Asuma and Kurenai actually looking forward at Tsunade, Kakashi mask-less for once, and thus visibly pouting because Iruka has taken away his porn.
Closer to the altar, and she can see the section towards the front on one side that is roped off and guarded; the men seated inside reek of power and wealth and glare at her appraisingly, and she knows they must be the feudal lords.
On the other side are the honored guests of Konoha. Jiraiya looks almost respectable for once, shaggy mane trimmed and combed, garish robes traded for a subdued blue hakama. The kazekage sits stiffly, pretending he isn't staring at Rock Lee several rows over. His sister sits on one side of him, trying to prod Shikamaru awake; on the other, his brother smirks while he pulls invisible strings that make Shino twitch. In the very front, her parents sit, glowing with pride, her mother twisting a sodden handkerchief in her hands.
(sakura swallowed nervously, and wished they had had a small wedding, like sasuke wanted. this would be so hard in front of a crowd; everyone would be disappointed in her; everyone would hate her.)
Sakura almost hopes the aisle can last forever, but all too quickly she feels stone under her feet, rather than carpeted grass, and it takes all the courage she has to look up and see Sasuke standing across from her.
He is breath-taking, so much so that she almost changes her mind. His hair is out of its usual style, left to fall soft and sleek around his face, strands of silk the glossy blue-black of ink and raven's wings. The hakama, she remembers him telling her, is an Uchiha heirloom; a flatter black than his hair, with a blue obi and the Uchiha crest embroidered across the chest in red and white.
He wears it low, so the flesh of his neck and shoulders is bare; wanting everyone to see the smooth expanses of pale flesh, where there once had been a curse seal, but clearly no more.
(it covered other marks, though; sakura wondered if anyone but her knew about the spiral-shaped rasengan scar carved over his heart.)
He looks beautiful; he looks perfect; for a second she wants to just forget everything and pretend that she could have this and live happily ever after.
But then she looks at his face; it is cold and stiff as a porcelain mask, but he can't conceal the terror in his eyes. Naruto stands behind him, face shining with his broadest grin, but Sakura can see the way it doesn't quite reach his eyes, the way they glitter too-bright with held-back tears, the way his knuckles turn white as he clenches his hands at his sides.
Sakura's heart pounds in her chest; she can barely breathe around the lump in her throat. In front of her, Tsunade clears her throat loudly and asks if they are ready to begin.
(never never never never never)
Sakura looks up at her, and Tsunade smiles kindly, and Sakura shakes her head slowly, imperceptibly. Then she takes a deep breath, and deliberately turns her back on the older woman, turns back to Naruto.
Naruto, she says, to get his attention, and when he looks at her, confused, she tells him, I think this belongs to you, pulls off her ring, and presses it into his hand.
I'm sorry, she whispers to Sasuke, who is staring at her blankly. Out in the audience, she finally spots Ino, and when their eyes meet, she smiles at her, and Ino smiles back.
Sakura spares Sasuke and Naruto one last glance, sees them still standing, shocked, but somehow holding hands, and then she turns and walks back down the aisle, out of the courtyard. She doesn't look back to see if anyone is following. She knows --
(she hoped)
--Ino will be waiting for her when she gets back to the dressing room.
Sakura isn't getting married today.
It is the happiest day of her life.
An Explanation of Symbols
Kimono:
Wedding kimonos in Japan are traditionally white, but white is also considered a color of mourning in Japan and other parts of Asia
A kimono is always worn left side over right; the right is worn over the left only on bodies for a funeral
The obi (sash) is generally worn tied in the back; an obi tied in front is a sign of prostitution
Flowers/Fan:
Bridal roses mean "happy love"
White rosebuds mean "heart ignorant of love"
White cherry tree blossoms mean "deception"
Red poppies mean "consolation"
Four in Japan and China is considered an extremely unlucky number, because it is pronounced very similar to the word for death
I think most of the other symbols – the cracked wedding ring, the spiral scar, the colors, etc – should be fairly self-evident, just wanted to explain some of the more obscure ones.
A/N: Please, please, please, tell me what you think! I've never written Sakura before, and it was hard to keep her character where I wanted - self-deluding, desperate to be loved by Sasuke, but still intelligent enough to realize something's wrong, not just a raving fangirl. Did I pull it off?