Love Song for No One
There were two trains of thought rushing towards each other through Yamato's head as Sakura ran towards Sasuke, her eyes blazing with resolve and her fists clenched with rage.
One said that she was a capable kunoichi who had trained under the legendary Tsunade herself, and had been involved in the death of the missing-nin Sasori. This vessel of information spoke of her strength, her experience, and the unlikeliness of her defeat.
The second train held no such rational facts. It was composed of images, flashing by almost too fast to register: her face when she spoke about Sasuke, the pattern of blood on the ground when she fell, and the expression of pain on her face as he held her.
He admired her, it was true. She had strength beyond her years, and the will to use it. He liked seeing her smile, and watching his words transform her from sad to happy.
And yet, and yet…
A sudden vivid mental image of Sakura clashing with Sasuke and losing her resolve, the pain in her voice as Sasuke tore her to shreds, Yamato's lack of medical knowledge stopping him from being able to heal her, him killing the young whelp in retaliation, but still returning with only two subordinates in tow instead of three. The death of a medic would have been frowned at, but in the end deemed acceptable loss.
He would have made her smile, only to let her cry later.
All this flickered through his mind in the time it took him to breathe out, and the explosion of the two thoughts colliding took place in the dizzying split second before he drew in a new breath, where his body was empty, and true clarity could be achieved.
He breathed in. He knew.
He moved.