Standard disclaimer applied.
I do not own Naruto, it belongs to Kishimoto.
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Limits
-Chapter 1
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Sometimes; during hazy days when Sakura is more human and less kunoichi, she dreams of a life. A life away from kunais, shurikens, a life away from bloodshed, tears.
She wishes things would be different. A little less pain, a little more laughter. More smiles here and there, perhaps. It—all of it, would have been so perfect, so beautiful. She wonders if her life would be like that if she wasn't a kunoichi, wonders how normality would feel like if she didn't have to carry kunais and shurikens and so much more everywhere she went.
Would she have been free of paranoia, then? Would she be able to afford the luxury of sleep, of love, of peace, then?
Haruno Sakura closes her eyes as she dreams of life, dreams of a "what-if" that would never be anything more than a dream.
Sometimes; when Sakura is more kunoichi and less human, she would relish in the adrenaline of a fight. Would feel a tug of satisfaction as she sinks her blade deeper into a nin's throat. Would actually enjoy the taste of blood, strong and metallic, as her tongue flicks a speck of it off her weapon.
Cold. Emotionless. Neutrality.
The rulebook stated it all led to perfection.
A kunoichi without emotions is a kunoichi of perfection. This was a fact common to those involved in the shinobi arts. Perfection is right; perfection is the key to survival, was it not?
So Sakura wonders why perfection feels so wrong as she sits under the shower in her uniform; wonders why tears blur her vision as she watch the blood of another wash down the drain. Her palms are red and raw and stinging from scrubbing, and all she can hear anymore is the pounding of water and the roar of blood in her ears.
She curls herself up and knows her next mission wouldn't be for at least two days. ANBU is understanding like that; allowing its members enough time to break down and crumble and rebuild themselves strong enough so they can go through a mission and crumble again. She likes to think that she isn't the only one weak enough to have to go through this every single time.
Her hair is stringy and wet as she tucks it behind her ear, and she must've bit her thumb a little too hard because she tasted that horrible, disgusting, familiar metallic taste again. Her whimpers are muffled as she attempts to cower even more into the corner of her shower, fearful of what memories that taste might bring.
It wasn't until the moon hung in the sky like a pendant when she finally stepped out to dry her hair with a rough towel. Her digital clock blinked Friday, and she needed to sleep while she still could. Tomorrow, tomorrow was the day of Rookie 9's reunion. Ino would most probably be at her door by 8.
The pillow is far from welcoming and her sleep is far from comforting.
She woke up to footsteps passing by outside the door of her apartment. It wasn't the first time some other occupant of her apartment block found the need to wake up so excruciatingly early in the morning. Her acute hearing was to blame—who knew senses were sometimes such a pain in the ass?
The shower felt icy and cool on her skin, just the way she liked it. By the time Ino rapped on her door, she was already in her underwear and shirt. A glance at her clock told her Ino was an hour earlier than usual, something the loud blond was not known for. When she opened the door, she found out why.
Ino's greeting was loud and unforgiving in her ear, breaking the much appreciated hazy silence of the morning air. Naruto's own greeting wasn't as welcoming, either. Her gaze flicker towards the three males behind her usual friend before meeting Ino's gaze. She looked sheepish and oddly happy, something she usually wasn't so early in the morning.
She stepped aside and disappeared before anybody could say anything more, reappearing shortly after in a pair of tight jeans instead of her underwear. She was too savvy to care about feelings of embarassment. Besides, they were older, now. More mature. More everything and less nothing.
The coffee felt warm down her throat, and Sakura couldn't bring herself to care about the reason why her old genin team was with her blond friend. Reasons and excuses only wasted precious time and patience, something she didn't have in the morning.
"Let's just go," She muttered finally, after the period of ankward silence that even Naruto didn't manage to break. Life as an ANBU, life as a kunoichi, in general, hardened her far more than any other she had met. Perhaps it had something to do with her parent's death. Perhaps she had just finally grown up. Either way, the world and she herself would never be the same, and she appreciated it that way.
The water was warm and welcoming, and she couldn't hold back a sigh of relief as she sunk into it. Truly, Konoha's Bathhouse lived up to its highly complimented reputation. She closed her eyes and spent the next few hours listening to the voices and conversations around her.
It felt nice, for a change. And she thought it was far too soon when Ino announced their departure. Had it been evening so soon, already? Everything else was a blur and suddenly Sakura found herself sitting in the pub Ino had promised to bring her to, head against her shoulder, used glasses she had drunk littering the table. Ino pushed Sakura towards Sai, laughing as she went to order more liquor from the barmen. She was in a pleasant haze from all that alcohol consumption.
Naruto dragged Sasuke over and suddenly Sakura found herself in the middle of a Team 7 sandwich. She groaned from her spot on the plush couch. It had been years since she had lost contact with any of the members of this team, and now she found herself pressed in the middle of all of them. Her laughter was product of how funny she found the irony to be.
"Sakura," Sasuke's voice rumbled, somewhere to her left. He blew a wispy puff of steam around them all. Sakura basked in the smell of tobacco.
"Sasuke," she breathed, feeling the name pass her lips after so many years. They were older now. Older, and more mature. She didn't see any valid reason for the "-kun" to be at the back of his name. She plucked the smoke out of his fingers to prop them against her lips, instead. "It's bad for your health, y'know." Her tone was uncaring.
"I never knew you smoked," Was his quiet reply. She exhaled into the air, watching as wisps of it circled above them all. She smiled.
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," Her voice was vague and careless. Her gaze shifted to meet his, a teasing smile against her lips.
"Oh?" His brow was raised in mock surprise, his smirk evident against his sharp features.
"Hm," Her hand found his, and she pressed the smoke back in between his fingers, guiding his hand back to his mouth. "A lot of things," she breathed, and Sasuke thought her breath smelt like alcohol and smoke. Her gaze flickered towards his onyx eyes, so dark and so rich in color, and then to his lips, pale and thin. Their breaths mingle for a while, and--
Naruto's voice breaks through the air, yelling something about him winning against Lee. The moment was gone, and Sakura leaned back, sipping thoughfully at her glass of grape wine as she turned her attention to somebody else.
The night ended, and she was not surprised when Sasuke offered to walk her back to her apartment, though everyone else was.
The evening air felt crisp as she breathed it all in, enjoying the way the wind slapped her across her face. Sasuke towered over her, tall and commanding as he paced next to her. His stride was long and powerful, and she knew he was slowing down for her. Thoughtful, really.
She closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of content. Nights like these she found exceptionally perfect.
"ANBU doesn't suit you," Sasuke voices suddenly, breaking the silence that had only just begun to settle around the two. She regards his side profile, tilting her head slightly. He stares determinedly ahead.
"You know," She says, not quite surprised. He was an ANBU captain. The information was bound to reach him sooner or later, no matter how strict the rules were regarding the privacy of anonimity of another.
"Aa. You've changed," It was a statement.
"Mm," she breathes, locking gaze with him. "For the better, I hope."
He doesn't reply, and she turns to gaze at the stars. They were bright. She liked the view.
A/N: I've deleted my older and only story, since it was written when I was on sugar high and crack. My apologies. Criticism on my story and writing are welcomed. Reviews are always appreciated. I value the fluency and flow of a story the most.