Life Friend Death Rival

The moon shone high up in the starless sky as two promising-opponents, both filled with anger and hate, stood face to face with the other. One fight, one winner, one last time. So many times in the past had they shown equal strength, but now they wanted to prove who was strongest and who the loser was. No one, other than the two, knew of this battle and no one knew of its outcome. Both were confident in their own abilities, but slightly reluctant to prove their full worth at the expense of the other.

A punch, useless. A kick, blocked. Nothing would matter to them until their own victory was assured. Nothing, not even life itself. The rivalry between the two had gone beyond harmless bickering and evolved into something more. They each wanted the other dead, but, at the same time, they didn't want to harm their once-friend. Each felt betrayed by the other. One felt that they had been used while the other believed the same. Neither knew the truth, but it didn't matter. Only the sweet smell of victory.

"I will not lose to you, pig!" The one dressed in mostly red spat at her life-long opponent. A single sound was made by a bird flying over their make-shift battle field in the forest of death, but it was ignored in the heated glaring sent by the rivals.

"The same to you, forehead!" Replied the purple-wearing fighter with equal malice. Not either of them moved as a wind rushed past them, causing their hair to follow the eastwards current. Their eyes were hard with determination, neither willing to stop the match without the other admitting defeat. So far, not one attack had been made. Not one movement from the fighters as they waited for the other to make the fool's choice and start the match with a bad move.

As soon as they had shot their hate-filled remarks, they charged. Both aiming for the same place on their opponent, their fists collided and forced the two back. The minor set-back had no meaning to the ninja as they struck again, aiming for a different spot with a well-placed kick. Once more, they were sent back by their colliding blows. Extreme training ensured that neither would get weary so early into the battle, but hesitation was also not allowed.

Again, they ran at the other with a rage in their eyes, so bright that it could blind anyone watching. However, no one was watching. If someone else knew of this battle, it would never have begun. They simultaneously took a shuriken in their right hand and threw it, only to witness their projectiles rebound off of the other in mid-air. Before the ninja-stars even touched the ground, the two were charging again. They raised their fists and each landed a single blow in the stomach, never wincing from the impact, but, instead, delivered another blow to the other's ribs. Again, both hit and knocked the other to the ground.

Never once did the fighting stop. When they fell, they would roll over and try to land a punch to the other's face. When they were sent back, they would throw a weapon and charge. When they were hit, they focused more on leaving no openings for more hits and ignored the previous impact. This was how it went every time the two met in the secret-battles they fought to prove who was best. Not a single mistake was made without the other picking up on it and exposing it or a correction made instantly. They were, no matter how much they denied it, perfectly matched opponents.

The one in red kicked the purple one in the chest, the latter flying back into a tree, throwing a kunai during flight. The kunai was parried and retaliation in the form of a barrage of shuriken was narrowly dodged. No one could even think to defeat these two in their specialties and the only time someone came close was in these, unseen, battles. The two aimed a punch at the cheek of their opponent and both made contact. As they reeled back they took a kunai and drove it into the left arm of the other, to try to cause the arm to become useless, but they each missed.

The labels often given to each shinobi ran though their mind. Weak. Useless. Pathetic. If only the ones who gave them those names could see them now, in the one state of mind where their true strength was revealed and used to the maximum. Weak, only when around the ones who labelled them as such. Useless, only when a use is not found for their excelling skills. Pathetic, only when you can't see the true intentions of their 'pathetic' actions.

Their bodies shook as they rose from the ground swiftly, so as not to end the match before it had even begun. The blood-colour-wearing shinobi readied the hand-signs needed for a shadow clone jutsu, while the other sent chakra to their feet for speed. They charged again, one with an army of twenty clones and the other with speed resembling a burst of lightening. Each clone disappeared in a cloud of smoke, blinding the fool who choose speed over quantity. The smoke-covering allowed the clone-user to attack her opponent and sent her out of the screen of blindness with a powerful kick to the jaw.

No movements came from the purple fighter after the shinobi hit the ground and settled into a slumped position. When the smoke was cleared, the one who delivered the blow stepped closer to the fallen ninja, wary and suspicious of tricks. They snorted as they kicked the pale arm of their opponent. This victory, however, was short lived as the ninja on the ground took hold of the offending foot and threw the over-confident shinobi away.

The battle raged on for longer. Seconds stretched to minuets, which, in turn, slowly became hours. Neither giving an ounce nor holding back. Both with hard-earned victory in their sights. Another hit, another burst of pain, another worthless fight over superiority and they would have their answer. The question of the strongest was coming to closer and closer to being decided. A punch, useless. A kick, blocked. Nothing would matter to them until their own victory was assured. Nothing, not even life itself. A saying believed by both and shown throughout each one of their battles.

Never, not even when on the brink of death or exhaustion, would they concede to the other or admit defeat. Never, not even when the life of the other was in danger, would they hold back. Never, not even at the end of this battle, would the other settle for second-best. Second-best was just another way of saying 'not as good' or 'not good enough'. This, in itself, was not good enough for the fighters.

"You know, we never fought for this long before." Commented the shinobi in purple as they dodged a fatal wound to the stomach. This was true, as they had never been fuelled to fight so hard before. Never had they felt so in need of reassurance that they resorted to trying to kill the other out of pure spite. Never had the two given in to the violent answer, but this time it was personal to them.

"I never felt the need to kill you before. Before, you didn't betray me." Stated the other with a scornful look. They each sneered at the other, recalling their reasons for the hate between them growing for this final fight.

"You betrayed me, if memory serves. I thought I could trust you, but you…" The one who spoke first trailed off at this point, looking their adversary in the eye as they both prepared to speak the same lie at the same time.

"You killed my love." They stated in unison. Both recoiled in shock of the accusation, eyes wide and jaws slacked. It was now obvious they had been lied to, but that matter no longer. Whether their reason for fighting was a lie or not, it was decided that this fight now had nothing to do with this untruth. It was now a test. A test of skill and endurance. As to the thought of who had killed the last remaining Uchiha; that would need to wait until they were done.

Using their many years of training and practice, they each moved so quickly, it would be impossible to see them without the Byakugan or some other form of sight-based bloodline limit. The reason for the fighting had changed, but not the will of the two taking part in it. They continued, just as ferociously as before. Only, now the reason for the fight was no longer a question of killing the loved one of the other, now it was a question of who could last the longest without getting killed. This was not going to end the same way as it started.

Two women, old friends, love-rivals and hated enemies walked into the forest of death a mere few hours ago. By the end of this match…

…only one would leave alive.

A punch, a kick, nothing would matter to them until their own victory was assured. Nothing, not even life itself. Life was a trivial thing to these konoichi, now lost in their equally huge seas of hatred and spite to the other. Not a though gone astray and each passing memory of their past tossed heatedly aside for the remainder of this battle. Equal in all aspects of fighting and emotion. Equal, except for the look in their eyes.

The burning emerald of the red-wearing konoichi was filled with nothing but cold hate and a lust to see the blood of the other spilled over the forest floor, seeping from a fresh corpse. In similarity, but difference, the oceanic blue of the purple-wearing female shone with only a sight of victory for herself, and death for her challenger. Each lost in their own world of dreams, each with equal desire to win.

Fighting never solved anything and only brought with it pain and suffering in the eyes of its victims. This was no exception. Just as they had done at many points in the past, they closed their battle with one final punch. No chakra or jutsu, just brute strength. This was how it all started back in the Chunin exams when they were twelve, this is how it would all end, six years into the future with two eighteen-year-old women.

A forceful hit in the face, and they collapsed. Lying on the ground, not even two metres apart, they panted and let their limbs fall limply to the sides of their bodies. Neither could move. This was the conclusion of their fighting. This one battle, lasting three hours, added on to all their past years of battle made it nine years of fighting and hate. Nine long years of fight after fight. Beginning with verbal abuse and moving towards a fight leading to their demise.

"This is it, huh?" The blue-eyed teen stated, her voice full of sorrow, but no regret was detected. The green-eyed woman remained silent as she looked at the night sky with weary, slowly fading vision. She drew in a breath to address her rival.

"Ironic that we should die after obtaining equal wounds rather than a winner being decided." She told her rival solemnly. Both agreed with this and sighed in unison.

"I guess…I really am evenly matched with you."

"Hm. Even after all these years, we only discover that…now."

Breathing was becoming harder for the two as they choose end their lives on a high note.

"Here's to a good fight, Sakura." The first stated with a sincere smile.

"Right back at you, Ino." Was the reply.

So, as the two lay dying, in the forest so named after their current stage in life, they recalled one thing.

"We never did forfill our promise." Ino told the other konoichi present.

"We never did…" Sakura continued.

"…win." They each said in their final breath. As they left the world of the living, soaring into the next life, only their memories were left. Not a soul would forget the legacy…

…Of the life and death rivals…

…Yamanaka Ino and Haruno Sakura.

Never will another make the same mistake as you…

…never will another choose the path you two did…

…never will another die by the hands of the only one they could ever recall calling a true friend…

Never will another die with their life friend, also named as their death rival.

Fin.