She was so tired.
Tired of loving someone more than he loved her.
She had won Ino, had felt the triumph resound inside of her each time she walked past Ino holding her boyfriend Sasuke's hand.
They had lived up to everyone's expectations; the heir to the Uchiha clan and his pretty, clever teammate were a pair now. Who would have expected otherwise? He couldn't have possibly gone with Naruto so she was the only possible choice. It didn't matter that she had to make the first move, it didn't matter that he hadn't initiated anything so far. All that mattered was that she had the status right? Everyone seemed happy for them, even Ino once she had gotten over Sasuke. Naruto did seem a little distant but he probably just felt left out.
So why didn't she feel happy now? Maybe it was just her being paranoid.
Sakura pushed her hair out of her eyes and sat back to watch the boys spar one on one against each other.
They moved in perfect unison with the ease that familiarity brought. A twist here, a turn there, flares of chakra surrounding blurs of light and dark. She knew that her abilities were far below them, and she was able to accept this.
Someone of lesser intelligence might have felt bitter but she knew the sacrifices they had made and she admitted to herself that she could never made those. She leaned forward to have a clearer view, as the fight grew more intense.
Something caught her eye. Just a passing glimpse of something… She couldn't place her finger on it….
For a fleeting moment she'd thought…
No, it was impossible.
Then it happened again.
And Sakura Haruno sat up straight and watched
And watched.
By the time the fight had ended, with the participants racing towards the promise of ramen in the Ichiraku, Sakura had come to a certain conclusion.
As the soft rays of the sun slowly stole away, the pink-haired girl stayed as still as a stone, the images still replaying in her mind.
She saw again, in her mind's eye, the sparkle in Sasuke's eyes as he dodged a well-aimed punch, the faint grin he had as he fought, mirroring Naruto's. The easy laughter they had shared at the end as they headed off, their strides in sync.
She compared it to Sasuke's guarded look each time he was around her, his perpetual frown and the almost invisible pain in his eyes that she pretended wasn't there. The awkward silences she pretended didn't exist, the unseen tensions that she tried unsuccessfully to break with forced laughter.
She had gotten so good at pretending, she had managed to fool herself all the while. The lies she had kept repeating to herself, the wall of denial that she had built, all finally come crumbling down.
He would never love her, he cared about her, but not in the way she wanted it. As a teammate, as a friend, but not as a lover, not as someone he could share his soul with. He only agreed to be her boyfriend out of what? Pity? Obligation? The fact that the only heir to the Uchiha clan needed her to continue his line?
She was tired of loving this way.
She wasn't the one he really needed. She wasn't the one in his dreams. It would never happen; she could see it in his eyes.
This was not the way it should have felt. Only because of her stubborn persistence, her ability to lie to herself, had they been able to come this far.
Could she still go on pretending? It seemed so tempting. If she continued to fight, she might still have a chance. The thought of losing to Naruto hurt. She knew she was being selfish, she was keeping not only Sasuke, but also Naruto from their happiness, and if anyone needed to find happiness, it was they. They who had gone through so much, who would still endure much more before their time was up.
She had no right to continue this farce. And she was smart enough to see that there was not really any point in continuing this pretense.
But.
It was only human nature to be selfish after all.
Pretending was so tiring, too tiring. She just wanted to stop and rest.
Evening had come and gone. The lone figure got up silently from the grassy patch and headed for the village, specifically for the Uchiha mansion. Her tread was slow and weary, shoulders bowed with an invisible burden.
She knocked once.
Again.
And the trace of a tear remained unnoticed in the dim light, lone evidence of a young girl growing up.