"Logic is a systematic method of coming to the wrong conclusion with confidence."- Celtic Oak
The Little Things
Collaboration between Remediation Anent Anechoic & Mokulule
50 things about Sakura that made Itachi's head turn. Also has no particular order.
Why: She never asked why about anything, and yet she seemed to know everything at the same time. This, he thought as he began to observe her closer, is intriguing....
Bet: She learned quickly that you never, ever, play strip-poker with a Sharingan user.
Without: Despite all the taunting dealt to her psyche over the years, she survived remarkably well. However, there were certain things she simply refused to be without; like a regular shower, but sometimes she would forgo these common actions just to steal a kiss from her raven-haired lover. He was somewhat please with himself at this fact that she considered him among her daily necessities.
Soul: Throughout the hatred, the bloodshed, the hap-hazard murders, and whatever else they encountered, she would always say a prayer for their souls, and promised that their next life would end better than this one. Itachi often wondered if it was more for her own soul than for the departed.
Innocence: Despite all that she had witnessed, all she had to do in the line of duty, of what she was capable of doing, she still retained a sort of child-like innocents that would be displayed with her normal personality. No, she was not naive, but he believed it only existed to annoy him. Little does she know, it's having the opposite effect.
Tea: She was a ridiculous health nut when it came to food, unless it was chocolate, in which she had no complaint about consuming in mass quantities, so when she prescribed an herbal tea to cure some of his aches and pains, he blatantly refused to drink the bitter tea unless he could have his dango. This battle of wills only lasted a couple of minutes before he was quickly (and rather painfully) reminded of an old injury, in which she smirked triumphantly and said "would you like that tea now, Uchiha-san?"
Jealousy: No, he refused to admit that he is absolutely jealous of Kisame and Deidara, who have flirted with Sakura more times than he's used his katon no jutsu. He didn't know that the mental scowl had permeated into his facial features, and now the whole room, save for Sakura because she was having a bad bout of giggles at this, was watching and waiting for him to blow a gasket, literally.
Lone: He and Kisame had traveled to an ancient ruin for means of cover from a nasty storm in the Land of Snow; neither expected to find a massacre, nor did they expect to find this catatonic girl amongst the blood and guts, yet seemed to be the lone survivor of her team. Only further investigation did they notice that she was cover in blood that was not her own, and Itachi had begun to wonder if she wasn't the cause of the mass murder herself.
Allure: She didn't like that all the woman, no matter where they went, would stare at Itachi with obvious lustful daydreams clouding their eyes, making Sakura not only disgusted, but uncomfortable with her own body, though he never seemed to pay them any mind. After noticing the events and her reaction to the surrounding female populous, he made a point of cornering her in the hotel to tell her that "she had more allure than any straight-laced high-class girl" while leaning close enough to touch noses, and then proceeded to slip into the room while Sakura was still trying to remember how to breath. Seeing how the blush spread across her cheeks was well-worth documenting, just in case he wanted to see it again. He might do that again very soon.
Please: He, an S-class criminal, mass murderer and a so-called sociopath to many, was still prone to the one thing he never expected from her: she begged, with those big puppy-dog eyes of hers, that could she please go to the Cherry Blossom Festival. He found no other choice but to comply; noting quietly to himself that she was rather cute like this.
Found: He utterly disagreed with her when she decided to find, treat, and keep an injured lion cub.
Care: She had always worn her heart on her sleeve, yet seemed rather vindictive to her enemies, but he was ever thankful that she bothered to care when he broke his "pinkie", yet found this to be somewhat annoying when she began to coo him like a child.
Falling: He was supposed to stay neutral. He was supposed to bring her into the Akatsuki and train her. Nobody told him it would be this hard, nor that the pain of falling for a woman you can never have could hurt more than the broken femur she provided him with.
Reason: Her reasons for things were out of this world; like getting drunk when they were flat broke, or running off with his satchel of cash and spending it on god-knows-what; but every time she did, she would turn up in a freshly-demolished bar with several roles of cash in hand and a ear-to-ear grin from one hell of a bar-fight. Now that is what he would call service with a smile.
Eyes: She could see through him, just like she could see through Madara, or his little brother, or anyone for that matter, with eyes more piercing than Byakugan, a fiercer will than those endowed with the Sharingan, and a heart stronger than a Rinnagan master.
Hate: She should by all means hate him, yet she didn't. Now don't get it wrong, she had plenty of anger to expend, usually in burst of violence, just never actual hatred. She simply did not have the capacity, the patience, to carefully stoke such embers. Plenty of anger though.
Cold: Sakura disliked the cold with a passion. She had practically jumped in surprise the first time they accidentally touched. For some reason, she had expected him to be as cold as his reputation. She really should have known better, after all, his clan was famous for their fire manipulation. He'd found her blushing admittance, coupled with the enraged stomping off, quite amusing.
Past: He could only watch as her face paled at the truth of his past; sheer horror seemed to seep through her visage and taint her once-glowing eyes with a sinister darkness he had never seen. She had begun to speak with unwavering determination since, which surprised him with her declaration;"I will clear your name, no matter what it takes."
Love: He had once asked what she knew "love" to be, but the answer was far more disturbing than the question itself as she always said, "only pain".
Black: Black shirt here, black skirt there, just black everywhere, and here he thought that red was more her color. Her response to that was: "Nah, black," as she fingered his hair with him watching her hand intently, "is my favorite color."
Goddess: "A kiss from her beloved terrorized her beyond her mind, his proclamation a death to their silent passion. So be it that Maiden Kaguya fled into the sky to save him; crimson tears becoming like stars in the moonlit sky, forever fleeing her heart's desire", Sakura concluded aloud from the book she bought at a library sale. She hadn't a clue that he wasn't listening; he was actually staring at her face intently, and when their eyes locked ever so briefly, he swore he saw the Goddess herself.
Dancer: He saw her fighting style; at first, it seemed sloppy and weak, but after getting hisrear handed to him on a invisible silver platter (without his Sharingan activated, of course), he found that she was actually dancing while fight him, it being finally confirmed when she leaned over him with her hands on her hips saying; "Do you want to fight me for real this time?"
Tremble: She had gotten a fever during one of their missions overseas; trembling and jerking while she slept. It had been a debilitating chakra-draining cold, leaving her unable to heal herself, and he had watched in horror as she developed delirium, one of the last and most dangerous symptoms. He had already wrestled her to the ground, tying his cloak around her in a restraining manner so she couldn't harm herself, and decided suddenly to hold her for the night when she cried for her father, all the while telling her, "Daddy is here, it's all right, daddy is here".
Grace: She is never without grace; beautiful, floating, dancing, daring.... dangerous.
Humor: He did not know whether to be insulted or amused at her reaction to discovering that he did in fact have a sense of humor.
Neutral: She was beyond the likes of good or evil, things like that didn't exist for her; for she was born during the "neutral" time of her land. She had found her breathe in between these colliding worlds; in the gray, as she would say, is where he met her, and that is where he plans to remain – by her side.
Pacifist: He was a pacifist, she was anything but. When she found he needed more sense in his brain, her favored course of action was to knock it in there, literally...
Strategist: They were both strategists, planners. He was a natural, she was not, but for the longest time all she had was that, her brain. Now, when she had the power to both destroy and heal by a mere touch of her finger, she had not forgotten where she came from. He respected that.
Running: He could have only imagined what she was running from; She was the renown medic in five nations, had friends, had a family, but when she was confronted with the remains of her former home in the Leaf, the solemn look upon her face explained why she turned away from it all.
Healer: She had never stopped to think about what she should be doing; after all, she aided a criminal's life by healing him, yet it was apart of her Hippocratic oath as a healer, and he wouldn't forget the day she smiled so brightly at him after his comeback from the grave.
Frilly: She took one look at Itachi, who was shrugging against the wall at the time in nonchalant caution, then glared at the frilly, lace-cover garment in shopping bag that he had bought for the mission, then back at him again with narrowed eyes. "You are kidding me, right?"
Tumble: She was nagging at him today for an some unknown reason; so he tried to give her a little tumble down a leaved hill, only to end up at the bottom with her profuse giggling, all the while tangled up in her arms.
Boots: She had an affliction for thigh-high, three-inch heeled combat boots, something that made her very attractive with her rather short medic skirt, long red hair and her extraordinarily tight black corset, showing a bust one would have ever known she had, but you would never catch Itachi saying anything against it.
Haunted: She was a terror to behold on the field; her blood-lust laden chakra surrounding her like a dark angel, with her brilliant green eyes becoming something close to black, every step forward a horrifying last moment to her enemies. Itachi wound up being haunted by that sinister woman that he saw that day, and feared her ever-possible return.
Emerald: Those emerald eyes had caught his attention when he saw her for the first time on the battlefield; fierce determination and the resilient strength of her soul practically demanded him to respect her above everyone else.
Storm: A simple glance at this odd woman would have deemed her mediocre, unable to stand up to responsibilities, perhaps even below a woman's standards. But if you spent the time, if you bothered to care, you could see she was a master of her trade, a valuable partner, and the fearsome storm that all woman aspired to be.
Royalty: The formal kimono made her look like clan royalty; he could almost dream which clan she would have been in, but quickly interrupted by verbal slap to reality: "You got me into this damn thing, you get me out of it!"
Voice: Her voice reminded him of a bird twittering away in a tree; soft and gentle like a morning sparrow. Unfortunately for him, who had begun to listen more often, this enjoyable event also shared the same time as her bath, and even though she knew about her dedicated voyeur, she never changed her tune.
Religion: She was prying today, like she did everyday, but when she asked about religion, he chose to stall until she gave her own away, like she always does. Truth be told, she was a Taoist, but when she stated, "You must be a high priest in Assholism," he couldn't help the huff of laughter that escaped him, followed by an bewildered expression when she smacked him upside the head.
Vice: They both had their own vices; her and chocolate and his affliction for dango, but nothing could satisfy the craving they had for each other.
Pain: She could see the pain inside him; she knew as a fellow soldier that you must do the unthinkable to protect your nation, and wound up doing her very best to ease the ache of wrongdoing within his steeled heart.
Nightmare: She had nightmares and she cried in that fitful sleep, begging a person not to leave. In the end, her breath would hitch slightly and just like that she would go back to regular sleep, her tears drying on cheeks. He resolved never to leave her.
Scar: She has a scar on her stomach and a matching one on her back. She was run through with a poisoned blade. Being a medic she could have removed it, yet she didn't. She tells him that it's a reminder that she isn't invincible. She's also very ticklish.
Tears: She always encouraged him to "release" his emotions, and was always there to kiss away the uninvited tears with her tender sympathies. What on earth could have made her this way?
Blood: She screamed in rage when the blood of her former comrade soaked her hands; she still swears to this day that the stain remains upon her skin, a constant reminder of her true purpose.
Held: She had always asked to be held after their love-making; and he would always oblige.
Heart: He had expected her to be heartless to him in particular, among other things, but he never expected her to show up at his boarding room on Valentine's Day, hair down with a loosely-draped bath robe clinging to her shoulders, roses in hand and a dastardly smile plastered on her face.
Own: Nobody owned her, not even Pein could put her down in fight, and that my friend, was a fact.
Home: Some say they never had a home; home was wherever they stayed the night, on the ground or a temporary hotel for the mission, but when asked, Sakura would always say, "My home is here where my heart is".
Free: After the war, after the fall of the Akatsuki, after the fall of Madara, was the day they were truly free; walking into the sunset, hand in hand and living, breathing, as they should, with Sakura's hand on her stomach and a smile that he would rather die than forget.