project: enemy lines.
disclaimer: Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto.
notes1: First project here on fanfiction — wish me luck! ;D
The snow, Sakura decides, has never been so beautiful.
Silver-pale, the flakes glide from heaven to earth, painting the black-and-grey world a bold acrylic white — it's not a harsh snowfall today, not like last night. No, last night consisted of icy rain and soggy snowflakes that hammered against the window like gunfire. It consisted of a let's-stay-at-home temperature and of impossible darkness. This morning, however, the snowflakes are like tiny ballerinas, twirling and dancing and spinning down, coating everything in a thick blanket of fine, weightless powder. Sakura's never experienced snow like this, before — you don't get beauty in Konoha, not anymore. You get harsh winds and harsher rain, with the occasional snowfall that brings such destruction and cold with it that the town comes to a standstill. You don't get beauty in Konoha, only monotonous weather and an ever-numb feeling.
It's a cold morning, but Sakura really doesn't mind — the weather's too pretty to stay inside. She throws herself out of the door into the glistening landscape, spreading her arms wide, embracing the biting — yet somewhat refreshing — air. She ignores how her arms are bare and her stockings are wet and her teeth are chattering, all in favour of standing and breathing and feeling. Her breath, visible in the bitter air, comes out in short, sharp pants as she grins from ear to ear.
She's never seen snow like this before, not once.
Her feet buried half a foot in powder, she takes a few wary steps forward, careful not to step into any buried potholes. She closes her eyes for a minute, and takes a deep breath, and for a moment, she can feel summer in her skin, again — the breeze is warm as it caresses her face, her hair; the sun that makes the snow glitter isn't just there, it's warm and bright and lights up everything; he is stood behind her with his hands on her waist, and there's not a thing in the world that Sakura could possibly worry about.
She breathes in, for a second time. Her nostrils fill with the scent of sunshine and leather and aftershave and —
" — spearmint," her voice comes out breathless, a mere whisper. She stretches her fingers wide, half-expecting his own calloused digits to catch hers, "Kiba — "
A hard flick to her forehead makes her eyes snap open, her arms drop to her side, her nostrils empty themselves of all things wonderful. She finds herself staring at somebody's chest, and can't help but sigh, because she knows exactly whose chest it is, but she can't bring herself to feel excited, like all the other girls in Konoha do — if she were in this position, Sakura knows, Ino would be flailing herself silly.
But then, in a split second, the scent of sunshine and leather and aftershave and spearmint all come back to her, and Sakura's heart begins to break all over again.
Offering the man a withering look of acknowledgement, she turns on her heel, moving swiftly through the snow towards the corner of the square — she places a hand on the cold metal of the lamppost and allows herself to swing round, falling, almost, and creating a large tear in the otherwise flawless blanket.
"What do you want, Uchiha," Sakura drawls, completing the circle.
She lets go of the post when he leans against it, letting herself spin gracefully to a halt in front of him — she folds her arms and pushes her weight onto the balls of her feet. Stupid man, he isn't allowed to be a head and a half taller than she is, she's a rich woman, too, she has authority, too — Sakura realises, he really does smell like Kiba, too.
"Haruno," Sasuke's voice is quiet, calm, as he offers a curt nod.
She looks up at him, her eyes narrowed sharply, her arms still folded, and considers his arrogant-looking face; he's handsome, she'll give him that, but she doesn't quite see the appeal. His eyes are a little too far apart and his nose is almost unnaturally straight, and his lips are thin, chapped. She notices, as well, that there are bags beneath his eyes, bags that weren't there before — his hair is bedraggled, his skin is a little more pallid than usual. Tipping her head to the side, she wonders if there's something affecting the perfect-perfect-famous Uchiha family.
He holds out a handkerchief, silk, crimson.
"Karin left it at my house the other night, when she visited my father with yours," he says politely, although his voice is hoarse — he presses the fabric into Sakura's hand with his own, looking slightly uncomfortable with having to address someone so much more extempore than himself. "I'd appreciate if you'd give it back to her."
Sakura nods urbanely, "Of course I will."
They stand in the snow, silent, for a moment — Sasuke clears his throat. "My father…doesn't think she'd be a suitable bride for Itachi. She seems a bit…" He waves a hand dismissively, trying to think of the correct word, "Disengaged."
"She's where I get my personality from," Sakura half-smirks, tucking the handkerchief into the pocket of her dress. "I thought you, of all people, should have seen that coming."
"Hn," Sasuke looks away, and the pair fall into silence, again. "You looked ridiculous, standing in the snow on your own like that."
"And you," Sakura's tone becomes somewhat offended, her eyebrows shooting up behind her fringe. "You didn't look odd, wandering around the streets in the early morning, flicking girls' foreheads? That was completely uncalled for — I was being serene, for once."
He rolls his eyes skyward, smirking, whilst she attempts to save herself.
Not only can Sakura not remember seeing snow this beautiful before, but she cannot remember a time where she and Sasuke have conversed so casually — so freely. The last time they spoke was at the Uchiha compound, she in a formal gown, his in magnificent dress robes, both holding glasses of wine, making idle, awkward chit-chat as their parents looked on, each couple as eager to marry of their child as the other. She pauses mid-sentence, and looks to the sky.
"It's stopped snowing," her voice is quiet, again, and her fingers slip away from Sasuke's collar. "It's disappeared. Hah, it's a bit like…"
She shakes her head, unable to finish her sentence; Sasuke doesn't say anything. He shrugs a lazy shoulder and pats her head somewhat awkwardly, letting his fingers catch in her hair. They stand in silence for a third time, and she feels a little bit scared, because he smells just like him and feels just like him and —
"Please," Sakura whispers, and her voice breaks. "Hold me."
He does.
.
E
N
E
M
Y
—LINES.
.
are you ready to begin?
The following day, the snow is gone, melted to slush, and the rain has reared its ugly head once more. Heavy, icy droplets hammer against the window pane, shaking the house, filling Sakura's head with loud noises: distracting cracks, distant gunshots, the sound of thunder in the clouds. She sits in front of the mirror, scraping her hair slowly into an elegant up-do (because she doesn't want the new maid near the nape of her neck — there is something very unnerving about Mitarashi Anko), effortlessly applying the hairpins as she does on a weekly basis.
She remembers when she used to make herself pretty for Kiba.
She remembers making herself beautiful, just for him.
She's making herself look pretty for Sasuke, now, and his stupid family.
She shifts on the stool, her silken nightdress whispering as she moves, and stares at her reflection, tipping her head every which-way to ensure that her hair was styled flawlessly — her mother, her father, not even Karin would ever let her live it down if she arrived at an Uchiha function without looking the prettiest she could. She looks herself in the eye, hating how much effort she's making. It sounds terrible, but she knows that she's a pretty girl. She doesn't need to make a great effort to make herself look acceptable. Sakura leans towards her jewellery box, opens the clasp, and rummages for her best pearls — instead of draping them around her neck, she twists them through her hair.
A second reflection, slim and dressed in red, appears behind her own.
Sakura turns.
"You look really pretty," Karin says with a smile, taking a seat at the end of Sakura's bed. Her own hair and makeup are already done and, by the looks of it, were done by Anko — Karin's crimson locks are too loose for it to have been her own handiwork, her eye makeup is too dark. Sakura smiles back.
"So do you." It's not a lie — she doesn't look right, though, she doesn't look like Sakura's sister. She looks far too grown up. That is not the face of an eighteen year old girl.
"Are you trying to catch Itachi's eye?" Karin tips her head and grins, fox-like. "He told me that Sasuke told you what Fugaku thinks of me. I reckon," she flaps a hand at Sakura's hair, the pearls, and the elaborate bun, "you're trying to get my glory. Marry into the Uchiha family and make yourself look better than big sister Karin. Am I right?"
Sakura's eyes widen, horror-struck. "I — I'm not — I never — "
Karin bursts out laughing, "I'm kidding, Sakura, calm down. I think it's nice that you're trying hard — I know that mom wants to marry off at least one of us to an Uchiha. Now that Fugaku and Mikoto have deemed me too inappropriate for both of their sons, you have a chance with either of them."
Sakura laughs half-heartedly.
"I'm not interested, Karin. I don't mean to sound impolite, but Itachi's more your type, and Sasuke…" she rolls her eyes at Karin's reflection. "he's just Sasuke."
Karin grins again, and only then does Sakura notice the crimson handkerchief, curled into her fist, camouflaged against the dress. Karin follows Sakura's line of vision to her own hand, and lets out a small "oh". Standing up and smoothing out her gown, she moves across the room to where Sakura is perched, and stoops down to be less-than eye-level with her sister.
"Here, I want you to have this," Karin wraps Sakura's fingers around the silk square, ignoring the confused look she is receiving. "It's my lucky hanky — I always find somebody I'm attracted to when I carry it, but, unfortunately, I think I'm losing my touch. It just doesn't work the other way when I use it, any more, so…I want you to have it. Maybe tonight, you'll find someone who'll make mom proud."
Sakura shakes her head, only half-smiling. "I told you, Karin, I'm not interested in marriage."
She pushes the handkerchief back into her sister's hands. Karin shrugs nonchalantly, "Alright, but don't come crying to me, two years from now, when you want a husband but don't have one."
"Don't worry, I won't."
"Hey, I'm going to finish getting ready," Karin wags a finger in a disapproving manner, but she can't suppress a smile, "You should too. Stop slacking."
"You're the one distracting me with a silly handkerchief!" Sakura bites back, laughter lining her tone; as Karin shuts the door behind her, Sakura turns back to the mirror, flashing herself a half-hearted smile. She wonders if the pearls are too much — she claims not to be interested in marriage, but the way she looks tonight would suggest otherwise. Her tone turns sad; "Do I look pretty, Kiba?"
Silence.
A sigh.
"I'm going insane," she mutters, reaching up to readjust the pearls in her hair. "I'm going insane. If I ever see Kiba again, I'm going to kill him in the most painful way I can think of, and then bring him back to clean up all the blood."
Satisfied with her hair and makeup, she begins to change out of her nightdress. Climbing out of the pale blue gown, she retrieves her favourite formal dress from her wardrobe, admiring it from a distance before slipping it over her head. The corseted midsection clings snugly to her hips, the multiple skirts hanging to her knees. Leaving the buttons open, she slips on her stockings before her heeled boots, running her fingers up her legs, tracing little criss-cross patterns on the fabric.
"Anko," she calls.
The maid bustles in, her eyes sharp, the buttonhook in her hand.
As the purple-haired woman begins to fasten Sakura's dress, offering half-hearted compliments, Sakura holds out her arms and closes her eyes, and pretends it's the summertime, again.
"Good evening, lady Haruno."
"Good evening to you too, Mister Hatake," Sakura takes the greying man's hand, allowing him to kiss her ring finger. She looks down at him, half in awe, half in disgust — such a high-class gentleman, Sakura thinks, with such good manners, and such bad habits; she can see that little orange book poking out of his jacket pocket, the one with the large red cross on it. She shakes her head, little tendrils of dusk pink hair falling out of her face, as Kakashi straightens and gives her a smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling gently. "I hope you're well?"
Kakashi bows his head graciously, "I am. And yourself, my lady?"
Sakura suppresses a giggle, "I am."
The silver-haired man offers another bow, another crinkly smile, before he moves away to socialise with people his age, plucking a goblet of wine by its stem from one of the butlers' trays. Sakura watches him leave until he's gone from sight, and then she, herself, begins to drift away into the crowd. From over a stranger's shoulder, she can see Ino, her golden hair twisted into an elaborate up-do, her dress in a shocking shade of pink.
Sakura takes a step forward, then shakes her head, deciding against talking to her best friend.
(—sakura, can i…tell you something?
Of course. Is something wrong?
—it's about kiba.)
Sakura brushes the memory aside with a wide, white smile, and pushes a strand of hair back behind her ear. The pearls clank against one another, dancing on the thread that holds them to her head.
Pushing the toe of her boot into the tiled floor, she looks around, catching the dark eyes of Uchiha Sasuke.
"Haruno," he nods curtly, looking uninterested as he peers over the top of her head; he's clutching a champagne glass, half-full, and looking very unhappy to be where he is, "You're well?"
"You could say that, I suppose," Sakura replies in an equally disinterested tone, trying hard not to look directly at him. "I didn't realise you were throwing another party. I would have pre-declined your invitation when I saw you yesterday."
Sasuke rolls his eyes, "This isn't my party. My parents are still trying to marry Itachi and I off to some stupidly rich family."
"And you're not rich enough already, without being written into a billionaire's will?"
"It would appear not," Sasuke cracks would could be a smile, and she returns it. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not interested in being married, let alone being married to somebody my parents chose for me."
"Me either."
"I think I'd rather marry into your family than marry somebody I'd never met," Sasuke's tone is calm and casual; Sakura flushes, though, her eyes widening, her cheeks glowing. The Uchiha catches her eye, and smirks, "Karin is unusually attractive, for a Haruno."
Sakura suppresses the urge to punch him hard in the face.
Instead, she smiles sweetly, her eyes narrowed.
"My sister is gorgeous," Sakura's teeth are bared bitterly; his smirk is still intact. "I guess that's where I get it from. Thank you for the compliment, Mister Uchiha."
It's his turn to be silenced.
"Hn."
"Thank you for yesterday, by the way. It made me feel a lot better."
Before she can receive a reply, Sakura, with a grin and a bow of her head, moves away through the crowd, helping herself to a drink as she goes.
"Sakura," Ino greets with a smile. "It's been a while."
The rosette gestures to the seat beside her, and Ino sits herself down, neither looking at the other. Sakura's eyes are trained on the dancers in the centre of the room; three couples, all as beautiful as the next, perfectly dressed with perfect faces. Sakura recognises one of the three men to be Itachi, and watches him with mild interest — he's smiling, for once, which is something that Sakura rarely sees him do. The girl he's circling is even prettier than he is, with pale skin, dark choppy hair, and a pretty smile to match her pretty black dress.
Sending a glance to her left, Sakura notices Ino watching the couple furthest from them, a small blonde girl, dancing with a familiar-looking brunette.
"He looks a bit like Kiba, doesn't he," Ino's tone is light, airy, to match her calm, smiling expression, "Brown hair, dark eyes…he has a handsome smile, and look at his — "
"Don't," Sakura speaks quietly, folding her arms around her stomach. "Just don't, please."
Ino turns in her seat, her eyes suddenly sad, her right hand gripping the back of her chair. "Oh, god, Sakura, I'm sorry. I — I just forgot, it…it just slipped out — "
"It doesn't matter," Sakura flashes a smile, a big, fake, smile. "Don't worry. It's nothing."
The smile with which Ino replies is sheepish, shy, and very unlike Ino. She turns awkwardly back to the dancers — the dancers that Sakura's not even looked away from yet — and continues to watch them, twirling and spinning and floating across the floor, like snowflakes. The girl Itachi's dancing with looks particularly stunning, Ino thinks — she recalls having met her briefly before, at one of her father's parties. What's her name, again? Kari? Kori? No, Konan. Her name is Konan, definitely.
"I was looking at Itachi and his partner because they're the ones who look least like him," Sakura says calmly. "Like Kiba."
"Oh, Sakura — "
The music ends on a long, high violin note. Sakura's gaze doesn't falter as Itachi spins his partner under his arm one last time before kissing her fingers and smiling politely. The three pairs scatter, and three more gentlemen make their way to the middle of the floor. One is Naruto, Sakura realises, Sasuke's closest friend. The second, the one closest to where Sakura is sat, is a tall, thin blonde, with hair hanging over one eye — he looks a lot like Ino, actually, and the third —
"Oi, Haruno," Sasuke offers a hand. "Dance."
Sakura gawked. Ino, giggling girlishly, dug her elbow into her friend's ribs, who reacted sharply by slapping her hand into Sasuke's. Shooting a dirty look over her shoulder at Ino, she mutters an awkward apology, and trails onto the dance floor, her palm resting on Sasuke's knuckles.
The couples position themselves, and the waltz begins.
"Why did you pick me," Sakura hisses through her teeth, grinning falsely. "I thought you preferred Karin to me? You realise that the girl you dance with the most is likely to be the girl your parents choose for you."
Sasuke smirks, speaking, also, through his clenched teeth, "Karin has…other engagements."
"Such as?"
"She's…stuck. In a closet. With a close acquaintance of mine called Suigetsu, who happens to be quite the lady-killer and — "
"I don't need to know about my sister's sex life, thanks."
Sakura grimaces momentarily before taking a breath and smiling, again.
They waltz to the music in an awkward silence, she in her leather boots, he in his ruffled clothing. They look quite the pair, in the centre of the room — they're the odd ones out, the misfits. Sakura casts a withering look over to Ino, again, before considering the other pairs. The girl that Naruto has chosen, Hyuuga Hinata, is a pretty little thing, with long dark hair and pristine skin. Her dress, virginal white with black button fastenings, matches brilliantly with Naruto's black-and-white clothing, you'd think that they'd planned it. The other blonde, the one that Sakura does not recognise, is dancing with a curvy redhead, also unrecognisable. She's pretty, though, dressed in a snug red dress — she looks like Karin, Sakura thinks, and the resemblance is truly uncanny.
She looks down at herself, in her Alice in Wonderland-esque dress, her white stockings, and her worn leather boots. She looks at Sasuke, in his dark waistcoat and rumpled white shirt with the top button undone —
It's quite perfect, really.
The music comes to an end, and before she knows it, Sakura is back in her seat, with Sasuke beside her where Ino was, before. She can't really remember when her hand left his shoulder, when his hand left her waist, when they untwined their fingers and when the magic died away.
She looks at her fingers.
(I just held hands with someone who's not Kiba.
It should feel wrong.
It doesn't.)
Sasuke gazes quietly at her, doubled over with his hands clasped between his knees. He studies her stunned expression, and smirks. "You okay?"
Sakura shakes her head, slowly. "I don't feel very well."
"Want me to walk you home?"
She shakes her head again. Sasuke chuckles.
"Do you want some medicine, then?"
After some quiet deliberation, Sakura nods.
Sasuke takes her by the wrist, and leads her through the crowd towards the stairs. Sakura can't remember ever going into any of the upstairs rooms, not in all the five years her family have been associated with the Uchihas. All parties are held on the ground floor, Sakura considered, and all meetings are held in the family room. That's all she's ever visited the Uchiha compound for, so…
The upper floor is quiet as he leads her down the dark corridor. Sakura watches the walls flash by — the upper floor seems so much larger than the lower floor. Door after door dances by, and Sakura feels she's seen the same window, the same clock, the same rug, several times over. Perhaps she's just ill. Perhaps she's just delirious.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Sasuke throws open a door. Sakura peers in; it's a bedroom, Sasuke's bedroom, presumably. He gestures for her to take a seat at the writing desk.
Sasuke rummages in the cupboard above his nightstand, pushing aside various bottles and pocket-sized books. Eventually, he produces a small brown bottle, glass, with a metal screw cap; he throws it across the room to her and, clumsily, she catches it. For a moment, she looks at the bottle with an empty expression, as though waiting for something to happen to it; a miracle, perhaps, that would never occur.
"Drink it," Sasuke nods at the bottle in her hand, his eyebrows lifted slightly, his mouth a thin line. "You can finish the bottle, if you like, there's not enough in there to kill you if you down it."
Sakura uncaps the bottle, and tips it back.
It tastes bitter, medicinal, but it has a spearmint aftertaste. She shudders.
A scream rings out from downstairs.
Chaos.
That's all that can be said about the Uchiha compound's grand hall; it is in chaos. Glittering shard of glass litter the floor, from the windows, allowing heavy flakes of snow to drift through the jagged remains of the glass. The curtains are shredded into thin violet strips, the chairs overturned and musical instruments smashed beyond repair. Several bodies lie strewn across the dance floor, unconscious, and hopefully nothing more. A small fire burns in the corner of the room, and beside it stands a tall, thin man with blonde hair covering one eye, cackling madly — it's the man from earlier, Sakura thinks, the man on the dance floor.
Sasuke grabs her by the forearm, and begins to weave his way through the destruction.
"Sasuke, your house, you can't just…I can take care of myself, you have to — "
"You're so annoying," he bites back, but his grip does not loosen.
They're running slowly, now, their only handicap being Sakura's stomach; she presses one hand to her corseted midsection before pulling at the ribbon that constricts her belly. Suddenly, she can breathe freely, and the pain in her stomach subsides, a little. Leaving the shards of fabric on the floor, she picks up her skirts with her free hand, and continues to move.
"There, that's them! The other Uchiha and the other Haruno!"
Sasuke does not hesitate. Sakura, however, glances over her shoulder, if only to catch a glimpse of the man who'd yelled their names. And…they said 'the other'. Did that mean — Karin and Itachi —
Sasuke tugs her arm, "Move faster, we have to run."
Sakura's gaze averts to the back of Sasuke's head, and she picks up her pace. Sasuke leads her down the steps of the once-grand house, reaching back with his free hand to help her with her skirts; Sakura can hear footsteps behind her, their attackers, gaining swiftly. She wrenches her arm free of Sasuke's grip so to run alongside him — she always moves faster on her own — and as she spins, she catches that glimpse.
Tall figures, all male, presumably, with dark cloaks lined with red, and straw hats to conceal their faces.
Before she can get a good hard look, however, Sasuke pushes her into the back of his family's carriage, mounts the horse, and cracks the reins. With a disgruntled neigh, and the clatter of the carriage door slamming shut, the wheels begin to turn, and Sakura feels a little bit safer than before.
It is not until they pass the boarders of Konoha that Sakura feels she can breathe.
They light a fire on a cliff top, and watch the city below burn.
"They got everything," Sakura whispers, clutching her knees to her chest. "Just looking for us two. They're destroying everything for us."
Sasuke can only nod; it's not often that he's at a loss for words, but this is one of those times. His mouth feels dry and his stomach's in his throat and everything feels really hot, even though the forecast is more snow, tonight. He prods absently at the fire with a twig, and watches the flames — both flames. His gaze flickers between their campfire and the burning buildings of Konoha, and he still doesn't know what to say to stop Sakura from bursting into tears.
"Do you think it the Rebellion," Sakura's speaking in monotone, now, presumably from keeping all negative emotion to herself, "Do you think…they're trying to overthrow the upper-class again?"
Sasuke looks up from the flames, "If they are, it's not the original Rebels. They'd be too old to cause such destruction, now. If they are, these are their sons, their predecessors. They're younger, fitter, and more…capable."
Sakura nods her head lazily, gazing over the edge of the cliff with half-lidded eyes.
"I was lucky you were around," she murmurs. "They would've got me."
"Aa."
"Why did you save me?" Sasuke lifts an eyebrow, and she leans closer, interested. "Why didn't you just run when you saw…what you did? I thought you didn't like me."
"I never said," Sasuke speaks in a drawl, "that I didn't like you."
Sakura blinks, "That's true."
"So be quiet," he offers would could be a smile — not a smirk, a genuine smile. "You should sleep."
With a nervous nod, she lies back on the grass, and closes her eyes.
"Pein, tell me…"
A silky smooth voice from the shadows. It's enough to make Pein cry.
"…have you captured the targets?"
The tall man gestures behind him, and seven struggling figures, caught in headlocks by seven others — more impassive, composed — emerge from the darkness behind his back. "We have caught the Uzumaki, the Yamanaka girl, all three Hyuugas, one Uchiha, and one Haruno."
Silence, for a moment. "And the others? The youngest Uchiha and the youngest Haruno?"
Pein hesitates, before taking a calm breath, "They escaped."
Nothing happens.
Then a hand emerges from the shadows, and grabs Pein by the scruff of his neck, dragging him away from his Rebel accomplices, leaving nothing but the echo of his surprised yell in his wake, hanging in the air. There is the sound of ripped clothing, and then a blood-curdling scream.
Ino bites her tongue.
"Please...just stop it."
Sakura dreams in black and white.
She's stood in an infinite room, white as far as the eye can see — there aren't any walls, though, as far as she can see, nor any windows, nor doors. It's just…air. Perhaps this is heaven? No, if it were heaven, there would be celestial beings and golden gates and angels…
Kiba appears before her, his smile wide, dressed in a black suit and white tie.
—this isn't heaven—
Sakura, her own silvery silken dress whispering in the breeze that she doesn't notice, takes a step forward, her mouth tugging into a watery smile. She can feel hot tears pricking behind her eyes; she reaches out a hand, and he reaches back.
"Oi, Haruno," another man's voice, behind her, silky and smooth. "You really shouldn't do that."
Sakura whips around, her fingertips leaving Kiba's. Sasuke, this time, is in front of her, dressed in an identical suit to Kiba's — white, though, virginal white, like an angel, with a strip of black down his chest that is his tie. Even in Sakura's dreams, he takes on the typical Uchiha stance — arms folded, legs crossed at the ankles, a smirk present, prominent, on his face. Sakura keeps her hands to herself.
Kiba snarls, "Uchiha, this isn't your place. I'm Sakura's lover, not you. I'm the only one who can enter her dreams. I'm the only one who can sway her, alright?" He looks at Sakura, smiling again. "Come here, sweetheart. I've missed you."
Sakura remains rooted to the spot. Sasuke lifts an eyebrow, his smirk broadening, "I may not be able to sway her, but it seems you can't, either, Inuzuka."
The brunette's eyes narrow sharply, and he thrusts out his right hand.
"Sakura," it sounds more like an order than an offer. "Come here."
Sakura blinks, lifting her eyebrows, feeling slightly more confident than before. "I'm sorry, I think you've mistaken your girlfriend to your maid."
"No, I haven't. You're my girlfriend. Now, please," Kiba sends a withering look over Sakura's shoulder, to where Sasuke stands. "Come here?"
She frowns slightly, folding her arms, and Kiba bowed his head, looking up at her from under shaggy brown hair. "Please don't tell me you're choosing him — " He nods at Sasuke. " — over me. That would be the wrong choice, Sakura, the worst you'll ever make."
He pauses, tipping his head further forward, into what was unmistakably a bow.
"I never meant to just leave. I'm sorry, alright? Pick me, and I'll never leave your side, ever, ever again." He looked up, again, and smiled broadly.
"This is a dream," Sakura announces, "And you're just a figment of my imagination."
Kiba frowns, and even Sasuke tips his head interestedly.
"I don't have to listen to you. It's like I said, you're not real." Sakura lets out a laugh, harsh and bitter and cold. "The real Kiba's gone."
Her dress whispers again, and when she looks down, it seems whiter than before — nearly the same white as Sasuke's suit. She glances up at Kiba, before turning to Sasuke.
"It's time for me to wake up."
—this is hell.
Sasuke watches Sakura with a careful eye; the flames have long since died out, both in their campfire, and down in the remains of Konoha. All is dark — all that Sasuke can see is Sakura, or, rather, her faint outline in the moonlight, and the logs that once burned amber. He fixes his gaze on the burnt wood, giving himself something to focus on, but he cannot help but keep an eye out for Sakura, just out of the corner of his eye. She murmurs in her sleep — something about that bloody ex-boyfriend of hers — before whispering something about fruit cake, and letting out a gentle snore. She rolls over onto her side, her back to Sasuke, and he smirks, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes and chuckling quietly to himself. Sakura yelps, then, and sits up; she looks at him and he looks back, perfectly impassive — she narrows her eyes and inclines her head with a lazy disposition.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Sasuke murmurs, ignoring her cold glare in favour of considering the dark town below, "Did you dream? Something about fruit cake, perhaps?"
She makes an awkward choking sound, her hands flying to her face to conceal the dark blush — already hidden, of course, by the darkness that blankets them. She rummages in the pocket of her dress for her handkerchief — instead of her own plain, white cotton one, however, she finds herself clutching the silky crimson square with which Karin had tried to present her earlier. Sakura heaves a sigh, dabbing at her damp forehead with the fabric.
"I'm going to kill you for that fruit cake remark," she says quietly, "And then I'm going to kill Karin and Anko and then bring you all back to clear up the blood."
Sasuke glances at the handkerchief, "Isn't that Karin's?"
"It's a long story, a story that involves allegedly lucky fabric, my mother's plea for at least one married child," Sakura pauses, floundering, "And a maid who will stop at nothing to interfere in my life, even if it means teaming up with her employers' eldest, evil daughter."
Sasuke blinks quietly, examining the fabric, and then Sakura.
"I have no idea what you just said."
Sakura bats her eyes, half-smiling, "I dreamt about you."
"What?" Sasuke lifts an eyebrow, examining her weary smile with a confused expression. "Sakura, you know I don't — "
Sakura interrupts, "I was stood between you and Kiba, and he was trying to lure me…somewhere. I don't know where, but…I told him that I wasn't going to listen to him, because he wasn't real — he was just in my head, and I can never trust what my mind tells me, not ever. I learnt that when I first fell for him. I told myself to trust him, and what did he do?" Sakura laughs feebly, flapping a hand and pulling herself into an erect sitting position, her legs crossed. "He went and left Konoha for some…some…I don't know, some other place, and he didn't even tell me he was leaving."
The smile she offers is so pathetic it very nearly breaks Sasuke's heart.
Her eyes glassy, half-lidded, Sakura bows her head, shaking it slightly in what could be an apologetic, self-loathing stance. He watches her carefully, examining everything about her — the gentle tremble to her shoulders, the way her fists are clenched so tightly in her lap that the skin's pulled taut and her fingers are twitching under the nerves' strain. He gives her a final once-over before fixing his gaze on her now-lifted head, her pitiful smile. "You're really hurting," Sasuke murmurs, "aren't you?"
After some quiet deliberation, Sakura shakes her head.
"I'm dying."
The silence is so heavy it's almost tangible, hanging over them like a blanket, cutting into the calm night like a blade. He looks her in the eye, his own lids lowered into a calm stare, and tries to prompt her with a weary smile. She smirks, chuckling airily, and slides her hands from her lap to play with a crack in her leather boots, "He's the reason I don't want to marry, you know. I'm terrified that my husband will do what he did."
She glances up, her face suddenly solemn.
"I try not to think about him," Sakura's not whispering, but everything seems so loud to her, "but I can't do it."
What sounds a lot like a gunshot, followed by a scream, rings out from the town below them. Sasuke stands to his full height, and offers a hand, "We need to go," he says, and it's more of a plea than a command, "I don't think the borderline will be safe much longer. I propose we go to Oto, or Ame, or Suna, or…I don't know, somewhere that's not here."
Sakura giggles, lifting an eyebrow and half-smirking; she looks more like Sakura, now that she's spoken out about Kiba.
"Sounds like you want to keep me safe."
Sasuke shrugs, "I do. Purely because if you die when I'm meant to be looking out for you, my brother, your sister, my parents and yours, will all be fighting over who gets to hang my head on their mantle," he pulls Sakura to her feet, none too gently, despite what he just said.
She staggers a little, brushes down her dress, and climbs, slowly, into the carriage, and takes the forward- facing seat. Nodding, Sasuke closes the door behind her, hauls himself onto the seat, and seizes the reins. Sparing the carriage behind him a final glance, and then the town below, where another fire has been lit, he flicks the leather, and the horse begins to move in the direction of the road ahead.
In the backseat, Sakura curls her knees into her chest, and tries to fall asleep.
Never mind heaven, never mind hell—
—this is war.
notes2: Un-beta'd. It shall be updated with a revised version when my lovely beta, Briony, returns from her luxurious holiday. ;D
notes3: Please, don't favourite/alert without dropping a review!