Title: What It Takes
Author: Sunstorm raining
Pairing: Sakura x Itachi
Rating: T- to be safe
Type: One-shot, complete
Word count: 653
Summary: Non-mass. A stolen moment where Sakura refuses and Itachi is willing to let her go. Because in the end, all that mattered was her.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Authors Note: R tell me what you think. Personally, I think that if non-mass happened Sakura could never give up her ninja lifestyle especially after working so hard to get where she is (if you discount all her character fails in Shippuden). But that's just me.
What It Takes
"This is not negotiable, Itachi."
Pink hair swayed in a gentle breeze as the medic-nin stood in a face off against her lover.
"I will not be pushed into this."
The black-haired Uchiha sighed and closed his sharingan bright eyes, before opening them to look at his intended silhouetted against a setting sun. Blinking in the darkening light of dusk, now coal grey eyes stared into emerald ones that, for no lack of trying, showed the hurt and betrayal their owner felt.
"I did not mean for this to happen," the ANBU stated in his calm, emotionless voice that to her ears once sounded so wrong. Frowning, Sakura let her hands that were held aggressively at her hips fall to her sides, fists unclenching and fingers uncurling to limply brush against the soft material of her medic skirt.
"I won't be pushed into a marriage I am not ready for."
She frowned as he looked away from her almost accusation. Taking one step closer to the Uchiha she demanded his attention with one hand grasping the side of his face in a tender hold.
"I refuse to give up my life, Itachi, to be some willing wife who pushes out children and whose only ambition is to please and clean and cook; so that your parents can be happy. What about my happiness? Ours?"
Knowing that she was right but that there was nothing he could do, he felt his shoulders heave slightly with his sigh. Fugaku had given him an ultimatum; marry and produce an heir in two years or an arranged marriage with another, more suitable girl must transpire. However, as much as Itachi loved the girl five years his junior, who stood defiantly in front of him, he could not force her into this. He would rather die than let his beautiful, agressive, assertive, spitfire of a girlfriend be forced to become like those useless females his parents used to partner him with.
"I'm sorry, Sakura."
"I know but I won't do it," she whispered gently to her lover, whose face turned away and now cast in delicate shadows from the setting sun. Letting her hand fall, she turned away to look over Konohagakure at the shades of pink and purple of a finished day. Taking a few steps, Sakura came toe to toe with the edge of the Hokage Monument, looking out over the top of the Fourth. The people in the town spread out below, both shinobi and civilian, looked like ants from here; and seemed just as insignificant.
"I am no wife, Itachi."
"I know and... I am sorry."
Sometimes, no matter how much he wanted to fight this stupid decision, he knew that he couldn't. He loved her, and no one could deny the fact no matter how much of a kick Shisui got from it. Sometimes, it felt easier to fight and rip his loyalties from his clan. But when had he ever taken the easy way out? Sakura deserved better than becoming a housewife, or becoming the centre of vicious gossip and hate by prominant clans. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
"Are you willing to fight for me on this? To fight your father's decision?" Turning to face the man, she waited for his decision. When silence greeted her, she nodded her head and smiled bitterly. Sometimes, silence can speak louder than words ever could.
"I can't do this Itachi, I can't get caught up in clan politics."
He understood. He really did. He knew how much she loved him and how much she loved her job; her life as a ninja. If she became his wife, she would have to give it all up. After all, it would be unsuitable for the future Uchiha Matriarch to be anything but dedicated to the Clan. It was a choice; captivity or freedom. And Sakura would wither if her wings were ever clipped.
