The lighting flashed.
The thunder thudded.
The rain hammered down upon her windowsill.
Sakura lay, huddled in her bed, the sheets drawn close around her.
She hated storms. She hated the blindness, the dulling of senses that came with the constant noise and enveloping darkness.
Standing, she wandered to the kitchen, her light gown clinging softly to her body as she moved.
A glass of water, and some loud music. That sounded about right.
Switching on the radio, she sat at her kitchen table, absentmindedly picking up an apple and twirling it in her hands.
She was eighteen years old. Eighteen.
She had grown a lot in the last few years. Her figure was soft, slender, but with the undeniable curves of a woman. Her hair had grown slightly, reaching down to around halfway down her back. She really ought to ask Ino to cut it for her again. It still was a defining bubblegum pink, reflecting her name. Her large, luminous green eyes stood out in her face, balancing with the high cheekbones and full lips. Her high forehead was framed by her fringe, falling either side of her face, which she normally tied back with her hitai-ite, or a headband of some description.
How many years had it been now, since… since he had left?
She looked at the picture which she had stuck to the wall. Team seven. Kakashi, Naruto, her and…
Sasuke.
She had expected her feelings to have faded with time. But no. She guessed it was true what they said. The first love hits you hardest.
Ah well. Water under the bridge. Maybe… maybe one day she would be free.
Yeah right.
She had become a medical nin since then, a feat she was proud of. There weren't really enough of them, and she had an impressive control over her chakra – impressive enough that she could have been exceptional at any field she put her mind to. She chose medical, because it felt good. Helping people. Saving lives. Seeing the smiles as their loved ones were brought back from the brink of death. She was proud to be a part of that.
At least... mostly part of that. But the other part didn't matter.
She lifted the photo gingerly off the wall, holding it delicately in her hands, running her finger over his image.
Rising, sighing, she replaced the apple in the fruit bowl, and moved to the tap.
Grasping in the cupboard above the sink, she pulled out a glass. With slow, leisurely movements, she turned the dial and slipped the glass under to catch the water falling out.
Someone was in the house.
Sharply, she turned off the tap. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, her heart thumping.
Where were they?
Thump thump thump.
There was an intake of breath behind her.
Her eyes snapped open, and she whirled, her fist raised and her chakra bubbling inside her.
Her eyes widened.
The glass smashed against the floor.
The picture clattered to the ground.
And the storm raged on.