Forty-five
It took them five years to notice her. Five years. In all that time she stood in the shadows, old and new wounds torn wide. In those five years she learned of the battles, victories, loves, and the deaths. Her heart was ripped apart again and again as she looked at the stone, their names carved as the heroes they were. The heroes she would never be.
She didn't recognize him when she saw him. His hair had grown out, falling into his eyes, one of which was closed forever under a scar. Marks of worry and toil had appeared on his face, coupling the other permanent tears. He had stopped by her store to purchase some of the scrolls that lived there. He didn't see her either at first, until he saw her hair, shorn short enough to look like a young boy's.
His eyes widened, his hands grasped her forearm. Lips forming her name, he spat it out to the wind, a lonely word.
"Sakura."
He no longer wore the jumpsuit, now it was a Jounin vest and more normal clothing. The once blinding smile was still there, torn in two by another scar. She felt her heart tighten, whispering his name.
"Lee."
They stood like that for an eternity. Finally he said it.
"Why did you leave?"
"I had to."
"Why?"
Pain erupted. His questions, red-hot pokers thrust into her hurts, burning her.
"Because."
"Oh." He took his hands off of her arm, lowering his eyes.
"They're all dead," he murmured finally, slipping something onto the counter. "Naruto was Hokage, but sacrificed himself to win the war. Sasuke died after he killed his brother of the wounds. The others…they all died in the war. Ino…she told me to give you this." He lifted his hand, and walked away.
"You should have stayed." He said, turning one last time. "If you had stayed, we wouldn't be the last ones." His footsteps echoed away, leaving her to stare at the countertop.
Upon it was a red ribbon, dirty and old, its thread fraying. The one that had been thrown away all those years ago in a mistake. She remembered the words that had gone along with it.
Go ahead. Strike a pose.
Deep inside, her soul cried, flooding the world. Outside the only sign of her pain was trembling fingers as she reached out to touch the small bridge to the past.
She knew that the past could not be changed. But she could still dream.