The Time It Takes

disclaimer: i do not own naruto

There are no motives.

On the battlefield, people rarely have genuine motives for killing others, unless you count the whole noble 'individuals for the better good of the whole' explanation. That's the only real reason I guess, that we all make ourselves believe, because someone tells us that killing those people will bring good to us, because they are the reason why our children are suffering, why there are homeless people on the street. They need to die for the sake of our country, our home.

I try telling myself this as I stare into the eyes of my enemy. My very singled out enemy, whom I can't seem to use the general motive on. He is staring back, and we stand there, very still among the chaos throttling around us. Even as debris showers over us from the latest earth jutsu that someone from some side completed, as dirt cakes our sweaty bodies, we can't pull our eyes away.

Despite my delusional and often very imaginative mind, I can tell that his gaze is nowhere near the romantic, lover's gaze or probe through the 'window of my soul' crap that I would prefer it to be. It's actually out of caution; he's carefully watching my every move, trying to predict the kind of shit I could pull on him. I wish I had the guts to surprise him, or to even just go apeshit, but for now I seem to be frozen.

I try to pull out a kunai and focus on the battle but my hands are trembling from our visual encounter. It's Sasuke for god's sake, still on the other side after six years. Sometimes, after a bad day at the hospital, I'd let my mind wander off to him, imagine all the dangerous things that he'd be a part of and wonder whether he ever thought of us, or just me, by myself. To see him after a slow progression of lessening reveries, I can't face him; I don't want that reality check. That's why I decide to ignore him, focus on someone else and pretend I hadn't seen that particular enemy. My hands stop trembling and I successfully grip the kunai, and start to spring the other direction when a commanding voice stops me mid-step.

"Uchiha, kill her," the cold voice ordered.

As I turn around, I wonder what reason that man possibly had to kill me. I have never even seen him before, and I really want to know what he had seen in his first glance of me, that made him want me dead. Perhaps he'd heard of my abilities as a medic, my close positioning to those in power in Konoha-but none of that matter right now. I grip my kunai even harder, knuckles whitening with apprehension, because if Sasuke decides to kill me, I am dead, before I knew it, I would be dead. I don't even have backup. His face is blank, not giving any signs as of whether he is going to make a move or not.

I can't move, can't duck for cover because I'm grasping desperately on to the belief that he wouldn't kill me. He couldn't, right? Then I remember him swinging the same katana with ease at Naruto's neck. That time Sai had stopped him, but who would stop Sasuke for me now?

I feel the air shift and there he is, behind me, katana aiming directly at my neck, and I have just a split second to deflect his motion with my kunai. Then I realize that that was a distraction, and the real Sasuke is standing in front of me, katana swinging silently towards my abdomen. His speed is incredible, and his eyes have me in his complete control. Before I knew what was happening, he had cut clean through me with his blade. I gasp, body crumpling with pain before all muscles simultaneously contract from the jolt of chidori running through me. Then I fall on to my back, flat as a board.

My mind is blank for a moment. I. Do. Not. Understand. For a moment I wonder if I can move my face from its permanently shock-still position. Then the pain comes and I regret caring.

I try desperately not to cry, because I know that whatever fried insides I have left are probably going to convulse and rip apart violently if I allow even the slightest sob. There is a pleasant image, something he well deserves if he sticks around long enough for my resolve to break (which wouldn't be all that long considering how much it hurt, oh and it did hurt). As hard as I try to hold it in (because he's the one person that does not deserve my tears), there is a hiccup. Even though my tears are held in, here is definitely a hiccup. I can feel it through my denial because the blood bubbling through my lips suddenly shoots back through my throat, making me choke and sputter.

I want to cry because all my disappointments and failures are crashing down on me-I'm still pathetic in the presence of Sasuke, unable to even defy him for a second-and even though I tell myself that even though I'm a medic-nin and I don't have any special jutsus or chakra reserves comparable to his, I don't deserve to die like this, nobody does.

"…Weak."

If I could just…if I had just the strength to lift an arm, I would be kicking his ass for that one. Isn't it enough that he's killed me? Does he have to rub it in my face like that? What hurts more is the fact that he's probably not even trying to hurt me, he's just stating the simple truth. I try to gather chakra in my hands to heal myself, to give him hell before the light finally gives, but it's no use. My chakra reserve is gone and the passages that are usually so controlled and smooth that lead to my palms are fragmented, like trails on a crumpled map that lead to nothing.

Then I look carelessly up at the face of my killer.

I can stare for an eternity, as fucking stupid as that sounds. Somehow it doesn't cause me pain, maybe I'm a sadist, or maybe he's just that fucking beautiful. It's not terribly stupid because I realize that everyone has made an incredible oversight on my intelligence level. I am a complete fool, and I never learn. That's what he does to me. The worst nightmare for a hopeless romantic.

It's the memories that do it. All the times he almostalmost smiled at me, or replied to an insignificant comment just for the sake of conversation (those rare, beautiful times). It takes over my rationality and transforms him from the person he is to a heightened figment of my imagination. So I let myself reminisce.

As I'm thinking all these things, I wonder why it's taking so long for me to die. My mind considers the endless possibilities, after all, maybe I'm the only half-dead person that actually has the morbid interest to speculate such matters, instead of say, lamenting over family and friends that I will never see again. So I realize that maybe I'm not dying slowly, but it's actually my thoughts that are traveling through my head at millions of miles per second. Maybe somehow time slows down for people who are dying, I mean, if someone's at the end of his or her road, the least life can do is give a little more time (or the false perception of time).

I don't know.

Anyway I can't close my eyes because he's still standing there. He's still standing over me, feet planted firmly on to the ground, and I can't look away. Doesn't he know that he can die like that? Standing still during a freaking war? Regardless, I could care less about his safety; I just want to look at his face, which is conveniently tilted down towards my own.

My lids start feeling very heavy, like it's going to be stuck in whatever position it's in during my last, fleeting moment. God it would be horrible, to die with my eyes open. I've always hated seeing dead people with their eyes clouded over, looking for something in the sky, but never exactly reaching it, not being able to see looking through groggy fish eyes. It's something that has always made me shudder. Some say that when people die with their eyes open, it means that they weren't meant to die, that their fate had been unfulfilled, or that they still had unaccomplished goals in the living world.

I do not want to look like that, because I am done. I most certainly do not believe in stupid things like fate or destiny or love. I might have, if the one person I had waited on my entire life hadn't stuck a fucking katana through me (not to mention how wonderfully chidori-powered it was). I wish I could physically show him how much I hate him, tear that blank face apart, smear the blood on his exposed abs and dig my nails in a bit. But I can't, so why bother hating in the first place? Why not just start over, within these last few seconds, fall in love again? I loathe myself for thinking this way. I hope it's the death talking.

How hypocritical is it, that even my mind won't give me peace?

Finally, some sort of conscience alerts me that I should worry about the others. No, not the others, the ones. My parents, Ino, Naruto, Tsunade, and Kakashi are the ones that actually mean something. I don't know how they'll react and I'm too tired to think about it. I want Naruto to have peace, but I want him to know. I do want him to avenge me and beat Sasuke's motherfucking ass. Let them fight it out, become friends or whatever. Let Sasuke find a home maybe, and regret to the end of his days once he regains some sense (all these years, where has it been?). Yeah, that about does it.

My eyes kind of glaze over and I have to congratulate Sasuke on being the creator of the slowest death in history. Then I realize that I'm also crying, because I won't know what happens. I won't know.

Unbelievably he is still standing there, almost frowning. His eyes are bloodshot, like his eyes have been strained for too long. I can actually hear his breathing because it's rasping and there are strange wheezing sounds. He has the look of a frightened child that accidentally does the right wrong thing. For once in his life, I don't think he knows what to do.

But suddenly he leaps back, too far for me to watch his face, and I feel the presence that made him leap back. It looks like my wish came true, without me having to leave some kind of cryptic message in my own blood. I realize that he has had me under his sharingan this entire time, that all that extra time really was in my head, because for some unknown reason, he wanted to preserve me for just a bit longer.

But then, just like that, time really starts to run out, my willpower and strength trickling through my palms like everflowing escaping sand. I know what's coming up as soft, glowing white spots flood my vision, and memories appear in my mind like millions of flower buds blooming in spring.

"Sakura-chan," Naruto sobs, voice echoing eerily in the white space. I want to know what's up with these boys, thinking that they can stand still in a war for me. I know it's me, but come on.

I really wish I could see him, but death wouldn't spare me even a glance of his blonde hair, whiskered cheeks or cerulean eyes except in my own memory. I can't feel my limbs, much less move them to any reassuring position on wherever Naruto's shoulders were. I try to speak, to tell him that I love him and everyone else, but the words dissolve in the liquid that backs up my throat and dribbles out of the corners of my mouth. Warm but rough fingers smear the trails off my cheeks. I feel a soft droplet of water falling against my skin and I want to tell him that it better not be snot because his nose tended to get drippy whenever he cried (which wasn't often).

"SASUKE!" Naruto's anguished yell rings out and I try to tell him shh baby, quiet.

Because I can afford to forgive so you don't have to carry the burden.

But all too soon I hear Naruto's rasengan being conjured.

I don't know what's happening but I hear the clank of a blade hitting the ground.

"I...I deserve it."

"You got that right you fucking bastard."

I want to cry out but I'm losing everything.

gone

A/N: hi my dears! i have been gone...for years it seems (or maybe i really have been). anyways i have a shitload of unfinished oneshots that i will work on and upload soon because i feel this obligation to...besides i really miss your reviews :)

so i want to know what you think, any questions, comments, or HATE please leave in the review section 3