(a/n): I've been writing a lot of thought procession for various characters, and of course, Sakura came into the mix. I'm not sure if I like it that much.
Disclaimer: Kishimoto's.
One, two, three, four steps padded softly on the hardwood floor in the front entryway. Two steps were noiseless over the rug, and three more when she reached the tile in the kitchen. Turn around, three, two, four. Repeat.
Her eyes flickered to the clock, darting around anxiously. He was late. He was later than he usually was. She hoped to God (for his sake) that he was not going to turn out like Kakashi, because her patience was surely not going to survive mission after mission of this crap. She would have to beat that habit out of him, and then they'd both be in sour moods until Naruto's fox chakra healed his bumps and bruises - which of course is an understatement. A truely indignant Sakura does not bruise, she breaks. Ribs take longer to heal, and Naruto milks his sufferings for all they're worth, though he might as well be whining at a brick wall, for all the attention he earns.
Once, while in a hurry, she burst into Tsunade's office without knocking. Normally, such a thing would've have been immediatly reprimnaded with fists or feet or the nearest heavy object, but this time, there was nothing. She had stopped after two steps, her fingers still lingering on the smooth metal, and Godaime sat behind her desk with her head in her hands, willing away the tears that streamed defiantly down her proud, pretty face. Sakura apologized swiftly, ducked back out the door, closed it, and rapped gently. A barking "Come in," followed, and when she re-entered, the woman's hands were calmly in her lap, expression neutral.
She hadn't asked, and Tsunade wouldn't willingly share her secret. Well, not while she was sober. But Sakura knew. It had been a few weeks since the old frog delivered the sad news, and Sakura knew that her mentor could only stand firm under the Kage guise for so long, before the grief forced itself out through the neglected ducts in the corners of her eyes.
Along with this fact, came the forced acceptance of her own feelings. Sakura felt for Naruto, the boy she grew up with, the boy she trained with, the boy she fought along side, the boy she healed, the boy who was constantly saving her; Sakura loved him. She wouldn't tell him this, no. Telling him would mean that it wasn't just another crush, and the enormity of that terrified her almost as much as the thought of losing him. Speaking of which, where the hell was he?
Storm clouds were gathering outside, painting the cheerful village a dull and desensitizing gray. She thinks of her favorite story when she was little, about Peter Pan and Neverland lapsing into cold and snow and death whenever that boy is away. Naruto is like that. When he comes back, the sun will burst through the clouds like a wrecking ball, and he'll hurtle through her door and she'll wrap her arms around him and tell him just how special he is.
Of course, that's a fierce exageration. She won't tell him about the heart in her chest that beats for only him. She will continue to deny his request for dates, and pinch his arms when he forgets to mind his shoddy manners, and throw him when he is too vulgar for a lady's taste. Yamato sees it. He doesn't say anything, but if her hands linger too long on a gouge on his back, or her eyes widen at the ferocity of his infectious personality, their captain will meet her gaze, and she knows that he knows. Sai knows there is something, but not just what it is. He tried asking Sakura once, but recieved only a great, purple shiner. Sakura refused to heal it for him, and he became wary of asking her things after that.
She pauses to run slender fingers through her hair, pulling the pink locks over her head, and letting them fall back into place. How did she end up falling for the most clueless, idiotic, overwhelming, gentle, sweet... The change in adjetives her brain has presented stumps her, and for a minute she settles into memories of him, fitting them together like puzzle pieces. The end result, she hopes, will give her a clear answer as to why her feelings have changed. Prolonged exposure could be one theory. Being in the constant presence of a determined force, she could simply have given up resisting. But her feelings are too pushy to be something half-hearted like that.
Well, okay... so he transcended distinction. Naruto didn't fit any other predesigned assumptions, why should this be any different?
Because Sakura doesn't doing things blindly. She likes knowing, understanding, disecting (figuratively), analyzing. To accept this situation, would be like tying a bag over her head and walking straight towards a cliff. Naruto might catch her, but if he didn't, it would make quite the splatter.
This unintentional imagery makes her grimace, and she sucks in a heavy breath, letting it out methodically slow, letting impatient green eyes fall on the door. Naruto was well on his way to becoming the strongest ninja in the village - she couldn't count on both hands the number of people who claimed he would be a stronger shinobi than Jiraiya. Sasuke had defeated Orochimaru, proving that he'd already attained and grown past the level of his sanin mentor. Granny Chiyo was certain that Sakura was destined to surpass Godaime. When Orochimaru abandoned the leaf, and betrayed his friends, Tsunade grieved. When Jiraiya fought for the leaf, and gave his life to protect what he cared about, Tsunade grieved. If Sakura was supposed to follow in Tsunade's footsteps, did that mean her woes would be twice as grand, the hurts far more potent?
She thought of Naruto and Sasuke, and a vice clamped around her chest, squeezing out her breath and making her stagger. She does not want to make her sensei's mistakes. As soon as Naruto knocks on the door, she will not hesitate. She will trap him in the embrace of her love, and hold him there forever. She will never leave his side again, and she will fight death tooth and nail if it ever dares to steal him away from her.
At least... this is what she tells herself.
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