Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

Author's Notes: Hi there. As promised, here's the Sakura version of the fic. Thank you to all those who reviewed. I hope this chapter won't disappoint you guys. This fic's officially finished. But then again, you know me, I'm always changing my mind and I think this might do well as another one-shot collection – a sorta prequel for dying embers. I dunno, what do you guys think?

Kimono

The edges of the kimono were slightly frayed. Small, imperceptible holes littered the garment, tell-tale signs that generations of moths feasted on it ever since it was put on storage. The garment was white, though slightly yellow with age. But strangely, it was still beautiful. It was elegant and grand with intricate details woven into it– it was beautiful. It was ingenious how the beadwork seemed to fade into the garment, giving the illusion of sparkling, fallen, snow. But perhaps the most redeeming quality of the kimono was its material; it was made of the finest silk – a rare silk that could no longer be found today, as the last of its weavers have already passed away, taking along with them the secret to making the fine fabric. Trust the Uchiha to have something this rare, this exceptional, lying around in their storeroom.

Her hands glided over the material as she contemplated on her reflection. Traditional weddings were rare nowadays. In fact, only the Hyuga still practiced them, as they were the last of the oldest clans in Konohakagure. The other clans long abandoned tradition in favor of the comforts of modern living. Most people, like Shikamaru and Ino, opted for gowns and tuxedos. She had wanted a modern wedding too, but unfortunately, her husband was one for tradition. Sometimes she was convinced that he lived in the past, but that was just her. Oh well, if he wanted to pathetically hold on to the vestiges – shreds – of his dead clan's legacy, then she would oblige.

She just had to admonish herself for that last remark – thought – not really a remark because it was left unsaid – it was just a thought. Still, even though it was unspoken, she felt uneasy; as if she was being deliberately, uncharacteristically mean. Her thoughts, laced with bitter sarcasm were mean; and he did not deserve them because he had had such an awful past. It felt like she was betraying him. She was Haruno Sakura, soon-to-be Uchiha Sakura, and being who she was, derogative thoughts about 'Sasuke-kun' were just unthinkable – because hey, Sasuke-kun is perfect and derogative thoughts about him don't exist – because, as mentioned, he's perfect.

Perfect. She once thought of him as perfect. Again, she had to scoff. It was no fault of his, so she had no right to blame him. It was her own fault that she so foolishly deluded herself into thinking that he was perfect. But still, she couldn't help but think about how much of a monster she was when she was thirteen. She was a stalker, for crying out loud. Nothing could be worse than that – a girl stalker. Imagine that, Haruno Sakura, esteemed medic-nin, apprentice of the Hokage – a former stalker. It was just unthinkable. Sometimes she just wanted to travel back in time, grab her thirteen year old self's shoulders and shake until the said monster came to her senses. But she knew she couldn't and that there was nothing left to do but move on. You can't erase the past, the only thing you can do is to live with it. Ah well, it wasn't like she was alone in the whole stalking business anyway. Ino was a stalker too and that thought comforted her more than anything else.

But now she knew that Sasuke wasn't perfect – far from it really. He was twisted and broken and flawed. But she was going to marry him. She was supposed to love him. And being his future wife, it seemed inappropriate for her to be thinking 'mean' thoughts about him and his – dead – clan.

"Sakura, are you ready? It's about to begin."

"Yes, just a sec, I just have to finish fixing my Kimono."

She wondered why she lied. She finished fixing her kimono a whole five minutes ago. She was delaying the inevitable. She didn't know why, though. Wasn't this her dream? By all rights, she should be out there right now hyperventilating because of excess excitement, gushing over how handsome her soon-to-be handsome is – because he would be handsome, she was sure - because even if he wasn't perfect inside, on the outside, he was as perfect as porcelain. But she was mature now and she knew that his external perfection counted for nothing.

So why was she marrying him again? Ah yes, because she loved him. She had been loving him for such a long time now that the feeling had dulled into a steady throb. Monotonous and always constant – she sometimes had to remind herself that she till felt it – her love. And so, when he asked, she just couldn't say no. After all, he didn't deserve any more let downs in life. He was already so hurt – so broken – it was unthinkable for her to let him face another disappointment – even if it cost her her own happiness. Besides, she already had her share of happiness, why not let him have his? So she was going to marry him whether she liked it or not. Never mind that she agreed mostly out of pity.

The finality of her statement did nothing to calm her though. If anything, it only made her more nervous. Noticing that her palms were getting sweaty, she wiped them on her kimono, careful not to put any of the beads and fabrics out of their respective places. Again, she had to commend the garment for its beauty. It was his mother's – he told her.

His mother – Uchiha Mikoto. She didn't really know much about the woman who gave birth to two of the most controversial figures in the history of Konohakagure. She had a vague picture of Mikoto in her mind – slender figure, long black hair, pale skin, calm demeanor, elegant gait, soft voice – beautiful. She never saw her much, only on special occasions. She was always standing alongside her husband, Uchiha Fugaku – austere, stern, strong – powerful. Together, they made a beautiful couple. But though Fugaku was the more dominating figure, Sakura's eyes were always drawn to the woman alongside him – the woman with long beautiful hair. The woman intrigued her so – Lady Uchiha – in her child's eye, the lady was perfect – like her son. But now, she thought that perhaps Lady Uchiha was flawed too, if she raised two of Konohakagure's most misled sons. There must have been something wrong with her. And she had to stop herself again – from thinking – because her thoughts were becoming mean – traitorous – again. 'Never never speak ill of the dead', her mother always told her.

Again, her palms were getting sweaty so she wiped them on the fabric once more. But this time, her ring – Uchiha Mikoto's engagement ring – got caught in one of the beads.

The bead fell to the floor with a muted clatter.

Her eyes trailed to where it had fallen. The bead seemed to look up at her accusingly, as if she was unclean, uncouth and undeserving. But that would be impossible because a bead was just a bead. It didn't have eyes. But nonetheless, it made her uneasy. And suddenly, to her, the room felt stuffy – stifling – and all she wanted to do was to go out. But before she stepped out of the door, she glanced one last time at her reflection.

She would grow her hair long again – she decided.

FIN