Third Time's the Charm
Summary: They weren't supposed to meet; they were supposed to stay as strangers. But yet, fate has decided to wreck havoc between them, with the most strangest and unbelievable ways. [KakaSaku SakuSasu [AU
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
A/N's: School's being extremely bitchy. I know I need to update Rewind soon. The next chapter will be out...soon. I think. Once I figure out how to start that chapter... I'm not sure if anyone will notice this, but my writing style will...be a bit different.
Chapter 1
Twenty four year old Haruno Sakura sat in her seat, staring blankly ahead with a transparent glass filled with red wine in her right hand. She was on a plane, heading back to Tokyo. After a week-long business trip to New York, all Sakura wanted was a nice, warm bath and much needed sleep.
Sleep-deprived, even after five full hours of dead slumber, Sakura brought her glass to her chapped lips.
Events of what happened during the last meeting, surfaced to Sakura's slowly awakening mind. She scowled.
I am completely over with beer.
She shouldn't have accepted that little cup of beer, but at that time, Sakura didn't figure much. After all, it was only a tiny, weenie, little cup.
But obviously, that beer was strong.
Damnit.
Just before Sakura wanted to drown herself in self-pity, the speakers blared to life, startling awake passengers who had only been in la-la land seconds before.
"May all the passengers buckle up their seat-belts, we are landing in thirty minutes."—And then continued on in English, Chinese, Italian and a very odd sounding language that seemed to be Arabian.
The old lady sitting to Sakura's right, next to the alley, prodded her with a bony finger. "Was that language Arabian?" She asked in accented Japanese.
Sakura figured she was Chinese, judging by the way the old lady dressed, and her accent.
The plane jolted, passengers who hadn't been awoken rudely by the speakers before were now wide awake. Sakura smiled weakly, hands itching to the grab onto her seat. "I'm not so sure myself."
"Ah." The old lady chuckled, and sipped her alcoholic drink.
I pray for your liver.
Sakura's emerald eyes slowly fixed onto the other person sitting next to her left. The person was a man, near his forties. He was facing the window, so she couldn't see his facial features.
"Would you like a drink?" A stewardess asked the three of them suddenly, pushing a trolley, with a warm smile on her fatigued, young features.
The old lady wanted more beer, or wine. Sakura shook her head, but accepted a bag of peanuts. She hadn't had dinner yet; Sakura slept through that.
"Sir?" The man seemed startled, he turned to face the stewardess. "Do you want anything to drink?"
He shook his messy hair, "No thanks." And turned back to the window. Sakura noticed he had an odd combination of eye color; one red and black.
What made Sakura to stare at him longer than intended was not because of his eyes. The man's hair was a shade of light gray, bordering on silver, but had strands of black.
Sakura wondered if he dyed his hair because of having early graying hair?
The plane jolted again, this time more violently. Suddenly, the speakers blared on again, "This is your Captain speaking, we are hitting turbulence, and may passengers buckle your seat-belts-"
The voice was completely drowned out when the plane abruptly nose dived in the air, passengers screamed, Sakura found herself squinting her eyes shut, and the old Chinese lady beside her was muttering in rapid Chinese.
Sakura heard a shout, in the midst of the mess, "Look out!"
She opened her eyes, and a large, black object flew into her line of vision…
And then pain.
The screams had already ended when conscious returned to Sakura. As she slowly opened her mint-green eyes, she winced at the bright light that glared down at her.
Am I in heaven?
A soft, masculine chuckled emitted from her side. Sakura sat up abruptly, and regretting it the next few seconds; white spots danced around, as she tried to blink away them.
"You're still with the living."
Sakura blinked, it was the man sitting beside her on the plane. She looked around her surroundings, she seemed to be in a very large auditorium.
"Had I said that out loud?" She murmured, mostly to herself. Sakura didn't need him to answer, it was in his eyes, eyes that danced with wry amusement.
"Where am I?"
"We landed a while ago, you were knocked out by a piece of luggage. The passengers were rounded up in this room." The man looked pointedly at Sakura's forehead, which was bandaged up.
"Ah, I see."
"You alright then?"
"I think so. I feel dizzy though."
The man seemed content with her answer. Sakura looked down to her lap, and realized a jacket was on it.
"Is this yours?"
"Ah, yes. That's mine. I lent it to you as a blanket."
"Thank you."
The man smiled, Sakura felt dizzy.
He has nice dimples.
As they fell into another awkward silence, Sakura studied the man from the corner of her eyes. He had features of an aristocrat, and his gray bangs fell into his eyes, giving off a mysterious aura.
Sakura realized the missing presence of that old woman, "Uh…where is that old lady, who sat next to me?"
The man tightened his lips, choosing his words carefully before replying, "Her heart, wasn't able to stand…she died of a heart attack."
Sakura didn't reply, only to lower her eyes.
"Sir?" A uniformed man had approached them, he seemed to be asking for the gray haired man.
"Hm?"
The uniformed man leaned forward, whispering something urgent it seemed. Sakura's companion's eyes widened a fraction, before they resumed their droopy look.
The man turned to Sakura, "I believe I must go now, ah…miss?"
"Sakura. Haruno Sakura," She provided, standing up, jacket in hand.
The man nodded, "I'll be going then, Haruno-san. Take care." And gave a curt nod, before leaving with the uniformed man, duffle bag in hand.
I never got his name.
Frowning, Sakura looked at her hands, and frowned even deeper; he had forgotten his jacket.
Looking up, she found the two men already out of sight. Sighing, Sakura gathered her belongs, which was only a small bag with her clothes, and her purse.
Taking the jacket in her hands again, she peered at the inner linings, and frowned at the label. Surely, she was looking at it wrong?
"Giorgio Armani Made In Italy."
Dammit.