All secrets are safe inside her mind, locked with a clasp made of metal and hardened resolve, sealed with steel and shy strength.
This is one she doesn't think she can keep.
She's fit to bursting, a timer set for her explosion (ticking away the seconds before death, wouldn't it be better if we didn't even know?) and she doesn't know how long she can wait before she tells.
Usually it's oh so easy for her, separating the outside from the inside. Walls made of stiff stone, impervious to all brute-force attacks. Catapults and pickaxes can't tear down the divide that hides her inner self.
A whisper can.
So can a laugh, voice pitched lower than her own, erupting from carefree parted lips.
That smile has the ability as well, teeth shining white, a silent promise to her confidence.
How long can she last?
Not long, is the answer, because leaves have barely time to fall from trees before she's speaking. Cropped strands of hair swirl around her face as she stands in front of her.
(Eerily familiar, isn't it, but her hair was longer then.)
Eyes squinting a bit in confusion, head tilted to one side, and the other girl is wondering what's going on.
Deep breath. She wipes her palms on the sides of her thighs, willing her heartbeat to slow. And it's almost as though Ino knows the turmoil inside her mind -- knows the twists and turns she's making, trying to navigate through the rubble left by the crumbling wall previously in place -- because she says, "Just say it, Sakura."
A moment's indecision. Exhale. Blurting out: "I like you."
Her eyes can't hold that blue-eyed gaze and she looks away, staring at the floor.
A quiet laugh gets louder and louder like a rumbling of an approaching storm except here, she can see the sun.
Ino's smiling.
"You're so stupid," she says, and then leans forward to kiss Sakura's lips.
She's caught off guard, taken aback, and when Ino pulls away she still hasn't quite fixed her expression into something not resembling a frightened rabbit.
A few seconds' pause, Ino observing her in an amused way, and her features rearrange themselves into a silly grin.
Their laughter echoes through the trees.