Because I can't get over how Sakura had planned to die with Sasuke in the Land of Iron.
It happens like something out of a romance novel. It's poetic, really, in a way that the harsh, brutal life of a ninja almost never is.
There's no need for words – well, no, that would be a lie. Sasuke and the girl from Konoha do exchange words, but they're trivial things. Karin doesn't miss the way the girl's chakra fluctuates wildly at nearly every word she says.
Sasuke's chakra spikes a little when the girl claims that she loves him. One small jolt, a tiny little spark, before it goes back to the swirling black mass it's become over the course of the day.
To Karin, their intent – coincidentally the same – becomes clear before even they realize it themselves. As Sasuke readies his Chidori, his chakra feels a bit more subdued. As the girl readies her knife, her chakra rages like Amaterasu's uncontrolled flames.
In the end, when it counts, there's no need for words. It's poetic, really, in a way that the harsh, brutal life of a ninja almost never is.
Their attacks don't quite connect simultaneously – Sasuke's Chidori hits the girl a fraction of a second before her knife pierces his chest.
And at that moment, everything comes to a screeching halt.
Tears stream down the girl's face as her body convulses with the Chidori's electricity. Her hands grip Sasuke's arms firmly as instinct demands she remain upright.
Sasuke mirrors her position, and in an instant, most of the darkness is gone from his chakra and his expression. Somehow, Karin can tell that, when he grips the girl's arms like she grips his, it's to cling to her rather than to maintain some semblance of dignity.
And, just like in a romance novel, they fall together, crumpling to the ground like broken dolls, and their chakra comes to a standstill. Karin can't find the will or the energy to cry.