Title: Shinobi
Summary: ~ Life is made up of moments and it is those moments that make life worth living. ~ SakXIta
A/N: These were word prompts to get me back into the spirit of writing. There's quite a few. Be warned it seems like the further down, the squishier it gets x.x I think I'll go back to writing non-squishy stuff. On a happy note: this is probably the most 'finished' piece I've ever done, and I'm quite proud of that.
I appreciate and read all reviews (as well as try to respond to them). Please write one if you have the spare time.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story, I hope you enjoy.
Warning/Note: Those of you who feel you must have ages associated with a timeline, don't read this fic – you won't like it. That being said, its in chronological order.
Shinobi
Practice
When she first walked to the Uchiha home, he was outside practicing hand signs. He did them slowly, so slowly that it looked unnatural and uncomfortable. She found it hard to believe that this was the brother her friend thought was the greatest shinobi.
She made her way to the door, the entire time keeping her eyes upon him. Not once did he give her a glance or shift his eyes away from his hands. The lower half of his body was perfectly still, in a deep stance. Only his waist shifted, and that was barely noticeable.
When she knocked he did not even give a pause, his hands continued to shift like flowing water.
When she ate lunch outside with her friend, he was still there. When she looked out the window after several games of shogi, he was still there. When she left, he was in the same position, still going just as slowing through the hand movements.
While she was shy, her child curiosity got the best of her. "What are you doing?"
He did not look at her, but answered, "Practicing."
"Why?"
His eyes then went to her and his movements stopped. At first she thought he was going to reprimand her for speaking, but instead he answered with all sincerity. "Because that is what it takes."
Compassion
Her cheeks were quite puffy from crying, her eyes sunken. She sat on a bench near the entrance of the hospital fiddling with a kunai.
"It is not that serious," he told her, trying to comfort her about her team. It was only a couple of scrapes and bruises, both would live.
"That's not it," she replied, her green eyes glaring at him. "Look at me. Look! I'm not a shinobi and I never will be."
He tilted his head to the side, trying to find empathy for the girl. But he could not relate. There had never been a choice for him. He had to be shinobi and good one at that. He'd been born in war; he'd been born to protect. It was so inbred in him that even when he'd fallen, he had no choice but continue or die trying.
He had no words of comfort. There was not even the pull of compassion that usually led him to pat a head or give a shoulder squeeze.
"Come with me."
She followed him to the training grounds, several feet behind his tall figure.
Without giving any notice, he turned and threw a shuriken at her. Although he'd thrown it with less speed than normal, he still aimed it directly at her upper chest, above the heart.
Her hand whipped out on instinct, the kunai she'd kept in her hands cut the shuriken so that it flew away and into a tree. Her eyes were wide in shock at what he'd just done.
He gave a shrug. "I am looking." And then he turned away and left her standing in the field, her kunai in the perfect position to block such an attack.
Metallic
There was a metallic smell in the air. And it made a lump form in the bottom of her throat. She pressed forward, running with all of her might to keep up with the people in front of her and to not hinder those running behind.
By the time they came to breaks she could barely keep a conscious thought. But when he gave the command to get up again, she jumped to his very words. Her eyes were trained on the black ponytail. Subconsciously she knew that even though she couldn't think, he could and knew that she couldn't. He would not let her die or come to harm.
When they got inside of Konoha, he immediately pulled off the adolescent body of his brother, her teammate, to a medic who could help him.
The body of her other teammate was also rushed away. Her teacher was following them, leaning on one leg more than the other. His grey hair followed the medic holding the blond.
Her eyes partly closed and she reopened them. She lost sight of him and there were no more familiar faces. They were all in masks and for the first time, even though they were from her homeland, they made her scared.
They were talking around her, but she could hear nothing but her own heartbeat from the run she had just endured. Her legs were shaking from the strain, well, her whole body was shaking. Her eyes glanced around her for an opening between the unfamiliar bodies. There must be someplace she could rest.
She walked off to the side and sat on one of the stone benches. She coughed several times into her hands, not caring that it was impolite. Her throat felt raw, her chest as if it would explode. She tried to relax, but it was hard with her body still quivering.
A hand touched her face and her eyes shot open. Disoriented, she realized how much colder everything was. She'd fallen asleep.
"Are you alright?"
Her eyes glanced to the face. There was no more mask. Just him.
She gave a nod, still trying to orient herself. "I need to see them-"
"They are fine and sleeping," he cut off her demand.
He then picked her up, putting her on his shoulder, just like he'd done with his brother, and began walking. His long strides were even and her eyelids closed, feeling safe. She was out again, in a matter of moments.
When she awoke again a hot plate of food was put before her. People were all around her. She barely had enough energy to pick bowl of hot stew and sip let alone listen to the argument about her.
"Itachi had to carry her in-"
"It doesn't matter if he carried her in she made it to the village. That was the bet!"
"No, the girl quit."
"She fell asleep while we were busy giving our information; you never said she had to stay awake, Shisui."
"...Fine, drink's on me."
Flabbergast
"What are you up to, Itachi?"
"What do you mean, Shisui?"
"You were thinking about something over dinner. Wouldn't even make conversation..."
"I was just thinking, when Sakura passes her chunins, I might train her. That is all."
"You, a teacher?" Shisui scoffed. "Seriously?"
"She needs someone that will push her, if she wants to get to jounin. Kakashi always pushed himself; he doesn't understand what she needs."
"And you needed someone to push you?"
"No," Itachi paused, debating the words to explain his conclusion, "but I don't allow anyone to fall below my expectations."
Shisui let out a long whistle. "She'll probably go insane within a week."
Itachi turned then, and looked his cousin in the eyes. "Want to make a bet on it?"
Shove
Each blow to her side, her ribs, made her want to puke. He was withholding his power, but it still hurt. This was block training, and every time she didn't block correctly another hit came upon her. She'd been honored, truly honored to work with such a renowned ninja. But this wasn't what she had imagined training would be like.
This was hard. She could barely block one out of every twelve attacks. And it was worse knowing he was neither going at full speed nor hitting with full strength. This was his 'easy' and it was still the hardest thing she'd ever done.
It was only the first week.
Another blow hit her, this one on bread basket. She lost all air, coughing and gasping until she fell on her knees. While her spit dripped to the ground, he squatted beside her.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
She looked at him, his facial expression told nothing. She wanted to give up. She wanted to continue. She wanted to cry. But most of all, she wanted to rise to his challenge. She wanted the greatest shinobi in the village to be proud of her.
She launched herself at him. Not to catch him by surprise, as that would be impossible, but to answer the question. She tried to attack his throat with a technique he'd taught earlier in the day.
He grabbed her hand, tossed her to the ground and her body gave a resounding smack.
Her eyes went to his face. The expression had softened and for a moment she thought he'd call it quits and maybe take her to ramen like her old sensei.
But instead he shoved her up and into the air with his foot. He continued to launch his assault, leaving each blow with the same pain as before. The only thing that kept her standing and fighting was the hope that one day she'd be able to keep up, at least with his 'easy'.
Slip
She was climbing the rock ledge, moving swiftly while testing out the ability to attach herself via chakra. She'd been sent off to practice after he'd demonstrated the technique.
Everything before had been so difficult, but this, this came easy. She began experimenting; she attached her feet to the surface and began walking up the steep vertical. She walked several feet before wanting to try something new again. She wanted to jump and reattach.
Gravity did not go into the mountain, it went down. The common fact only occurred to her after she pushed off of the surface and had released the attachment.
She dropped several feet before slamming into the first cliff extension. The angle of impact sent her spinning as she continued her fall. With pain searing through her leg, she tried to maintain focus, knowing her life depended on it. She outstretched her hands, trying to use her chakra to re-attach herself to the mountain. In her panic, she put too much, and the rock shattered before her fingers. She slammed into another ledge. And then something slammed into her.
It hit her side, ramming her against the wall of rock. When she opened her eyes, she realized she was no longer falling.
Black eyes looked down at her; the normal expressionless face was glaring. "You foolish, little girl."
Tired
After fourteen hours of hell, she found herself in a booth opposite of her trainer. His black eyes were scanning the menu casually, although he always ordered the same thing.
He looked to have taken a slow walk outside. There was not a bead of sweat on his brow or dirt on his clothes. She, on the other hand, looked like a mess, as if she'd been dragged through the village by a horse. Acknowledging the difference between their abilities was always hard for her. Seven months and she felt she hadn't improved in the slightest.
There was always the doubt that she wasn't cut out for this. And she probably wasn't. But she knew that the person before her had given up his position as an ANBU operative to get her trained. Therefore he had faith in her.
She closed her eyes, feeling drained by the day. She couldn't wait to get home and rest, although she knew she had several more hours of practicing—'homework' as he called it. And if she didn't practice tonight she would have to get up before dawn to study, since he'd test her on it. Going to sleep this tired would make it impossible to wake up early and she had no desire to get the crap beat out of her. So, bed would be prolonged.
She cracked her neck and opened her eyes as the waitress made her way to the table to take their order. He at least bought her decent food, not being as stingy as her old teacher or as allusive. When she needed to find him, she never had to look too hard. He was always willing to answer any question she had.
She broke apart her chopsticks and gave them a quick brushing before spinning them around in her hand.
It was then that she felt it. She wasn't even sure she could define 'it'. Every hair on the back her neck raised. Her heart rate increased. She became wide awake within a second. There was a wave of fresh air, not from the market place outside, but of the forest. The difference was acutely distinct in her mind. 'It' was wrong.
One chopstick flew from her fingers to where it felt to be coming from, an empty place of air next to her teacher's head. Well, once empty. There was body there in an instant and it had to lean back quickly to dodge her attack.
The new pair of black eyes stared at her, lips twitching to the side.
She wondered for a second if this was some important family member, one she'd never met, and that what she'd done was highly offensive. But her teacher continued drinking his tea, undisturbed by what had just happened.
"Fine," the new man declared so suddenly and loudly that it spooked her. "I'll buy dinner."
Itachi only shrugged, sparing a glance at Shisui, "A bet's a bet."
Bluff
He threw himself sideways, raising his leg as if to kick.
Green eyes anticipated his movements, and her body was already turning sideways to follow his blow and to pull away unharmed.
He was just bluffing though. And he had never bluffed with her before.
He slammed his foot back down, propelling forward, his fist drawn back.
Her eyes dilated. Her realization was too late.
He swung his arm; his forearm slammed into her chest bone.
The force threw her backward, and he continued in pushing her down.
Her body slammed against the ground and back up into his forearm.
She used the normal force and added her own momentum to tip herself and him.
That was the correct move, she was improving.
He allowed the movement to continue and they flipped.
Her fist came out as he was turned onto his back.
He caught it before it could do the planned damage to his head.
"Well done."
Misapprehend
They flew through the night, their feet pounding against the branches in unison.
They were jounin; they were a team; they were strong. They were united and nothing, absolutely nothing, could separate them.
When the first suspicious character appeared below them, they were quick to fly upon him with full fury and gusto. Within moments all three were in the midst of a powerful genjutsu. They were each pulled from the vision by a hit to the head.
Before them was one of the top ANBU leaders of their village. Yet he was not dressed in ANBU gear. His eyes were glaring and speckled with red.
They knew they were done for, truly, utterly done for.
"I expected such pathetic behavior from you two," Itachi finally spoke, motioning to the two men on his left. He then looked at the one female member of the squad. "But Sakura, I find this rather embarrassing."
The two males sighed in relief. It would only be their teammate that was a goner. And so they left her, continued on their way, ignoring the guilty feeling of leaving a comrade behind. After all, she'd be taking this one for the team.
Banging
As Itachi walked up to her, she could see the pride in his eyes. There was a smirk on the corner of his lips and behind him she could also see Shisui glowering.
If she wasn't about to fall over dead from her heart giving out; she would be shouting, banging around and dancing like the blond man beside her. Instead, she only gave a meek smile, and let out a breath of relief. It was done. Whether she passed or not no longer mattered. The look of approval meant she did well, and even if she did not succeed this time, she would the next.
He handed her the mask and then extended his hand to shake hers.
She was finally one of the elite. But more importantly, she was finally equal with him.
Prewar
The morning air was still. The only sound was the birds chirping in the trees. She rested her back against a tree and waited to let her breathing return to normal. She stretched her muscles, flexing slightly. There was a pleasant feeling that always came after a workout. She glanced at her sparring partner, although he was breathing like nothing was wrong, his clothes were caked in dust and there was sweat on his brow.
His black eyes went to her, as if sensing her stare.
"Ready to go again?" she asked, stretching her arms out to one side. Several more minutes and she'd be ready.
"No."
The simple reply caught her off-guard; it broke with their routine for Wednesdays. Usually they sparred until one of them (she) couldn't go any longer.
Before she could question the reason, he asked a question of his own. "Would you go to breakfast with me?"
Her head tilted to the side. "Um... I've already eaten." Had he forgotten to eat?
"So have I."
Her eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to understand why he'd want to go to breakfast if he'd already eaten. When she looked back up at him, to question further, he was inches away from her face. Surprised at the proximity, she tried to step back, only to run into the tree.
He kissed her then, quite unchaste with her mouth being slightly apart.
He backed off after several moments. When she still had not reacted, he asked another question, "How about lunch?"
War
At first it didn't matter, the world could go to hell. But seeing so much blood and death did not leave them unscathed. Slowly both became morphed by what they saw. They stopped talking about their plans for the future, their hopes and dreams. They needed to lock them away, forget about them. They told themselves it had to be done.
Then eventually they believed it would be easier if they were friends. The death of a friend would be far less painful than that of a lover. But even when the kisses turned into reassuring smiles, the worry didn't lessen.
Regardless of their attempts, love was not something that could be disregarded so easily.
Human
She sat beside the bed, fingers twiddling with a shuriken. She didn't like the smell, the sight, the obnoxious beeping. She didn't like seeing the face so shrunken, fingers so relaxed, and skin so lifeless. Yet she couldn't bear leaving.
They said he barely made it back to the entrance of the village, carrying a comrade who was already dead. He'd undergone several surgeries and blood transfusions.
It was sickening to behold him and the truth, even the best didn't last long in their profession. But it was more than just that which sickened her. He was supposed to be perfect. But this was reality and he was a just human.
They were all just humans.
She bit down on her lower lip and continued to rotate the weapon between her fingers. She forced herself not to cry. Tears were childish, unbecoming of an ANBU operative. They also meant that she'd be accepting this was reality. And she wouldn't allow herself to succumb to it, not yet.
Tantrum
The wound wasn't noticeable unless one was looking. His strides were not even: long, short, long. And his steps were no longer smooth. He refused to use a cane, and any suggestion to do so brought upon an ice cold glare.
He didn't seem to be taking off-duty well, and with that in mind, she sought him out as soon as she returned to the village instead of getting food and resting.
She found him meditating in his backyard garden. She jumped, landing in his vision were he to open his eyes. The fact that he chose not to acknowledge her meant she was going to have to wait. There was no point in forcing him to do anything.
That being said, she sighed loudly, before sitting next to him. His garden was looking a bit nicer, now that he had time on his hands.
When her stomach finally gurgled in protest, he opened his eyes.
"What are you doing here, Sakura?" he sounded annoyed.
"I am sitting, marveling at your green thumb," she tried to copy the tone of his voice but failed.
"I don't need your sympathy."
"I'm not giving it to you."
He was now glaring, and she was reminded that he was still a formidable enemy. But she held her own, not looking him in the eyes (as that would be foolhardy). Instead she stared nonchalantly at the garden, as if she had all the time in the world.
Then her stomach gurgled again.
"Go get yourself some food."
She sighed, ignored the ordering tone and rested her back upon the grass to stare at the sky.
"Sakura," his voice rose, it was the most upset she'd ever seen or heard him.
"It's demeaning for a woman of my age and single status to have to pay for her own meal."
He didn't fall for the bait. "Then go make yourself something to eat."
"I'm an awful cook."
"Get off my property."
She didn't budge. His face appeared in her vision, his eyes swirling with only one tomoe in each. She'd never seen him like this. He might have been stressed on missions, but the lines on his face seemed even more pronounced than they ever were. He looked old. It hurt more than any blow she'd ever felt on her body.
"Sakura, stop acting like an annoying, lovesick girl; I told you to leave." He knew exactly what to say to hurt people.
She knew it had been coming though, so instead she rebutted without hesitation, "Maybe if you stop throwing a tantrum."
Three tomoe appeared.
She knew better than to stick around. She flew through a substitution jutsu and tried to make her way to the nearest tree. She could feel the heat of a fire jutsu come from behind her, so she rolled to the side.
She threw several shuriken at her opponent, who easily used another shuriken to send them flying.
In a mere moment he was before her, and she tried to hit him in the jaw with her fist. He dodged, grabbed her arm and sent her through the air. She slid across the ground and gave a cough, then quickly turned to face him again.
He was still in the same place, as if frozen.
Her eyes widened when she realized his leg was bleeding. "Shit, shit, shit." The stitches must have come loose.
Pain erupted on her face and she was dragged to her feet. She stared directly into his red eyes. It had only been a genjutsu.
If he had been mad before, he was furious now. "Do you really believe I am so weak?" There was hatred in the words and his lips curled into a snarl.
She hit him for that, right on the cheek. She was surprised that he didn't even block it. He kept both hands gripped upon her shirt collar and was still in her face.
"You're not the weak one!" she spit at him, "I am!"
She tried to hit him again, this time he caught the blow. Her own anger had boiled to the surface and she always had a hard time controlling it once it was there. She tried to slug him again. "What am I supposed to do if something happens to you!"
Again, again she tried to hit him, "What am I supposed to do?" She tried again, again, lurching at his face. She fell on top of him then, tripping over a stone, shinobi training lost in her anger.
She stared down at him through blurry eyes. Her tears dripped upon his cheeks. She felt like a fool, a little girl again. She hated this feeling of weakness, of emotion. Her fist slammed upon his upper arm. She drew back her hand, aiming to punch him in the throat.
He blocked it, causing her to become off balanced and fall upon him. She tried to draw herself up, but one of his arms had looped around her waist, keeping her where she was.
She began struggling, and he continued to hold her.
Eventually, she relaxed; he wasn't going to let her up until he was ready. The one hand not occupied in holding her, touched the top of her head and he brushed her hair in affection to calm her down.
After some time past, he finally spoke, "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do anymore." It wasn't an apology, more of an excuse, but it was the truth. He'd never trained for anything other than shinobi life. He was supposed to have several more years left before he took over the clan and the police force. And even with the latter, he'd probably only be working at a desk job now.
She pressed her cheek against his neck and, wrapped her arms around him. She wanted to ease his pain. She wanted to say exactly what he needed to hear. But she didn't know what she could say.
Her stomach gave a groan.
He gave a light sigh, one that always came when he gave into her whims. Her heart lightened, if only a bit.
"Let me buy you dinner, Sakura."
Rest
She wrapped one arm around him, resting her head upon his shoulder. It was the first time in a long time she'd woken up feeling so relaxed.
His hand was tracing a seal upon her bare stomach. His other arm was wrapped around her neck, supporting her head.
She re-closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth from both her partner and the sunshine. She blinked and looked at the light coming through the blinds. "What time is it?"
"Not time to get up."
She shifted a bit uneasy.
"I'm not going to let you be late for a mission briefing, Sakura," he sighed. He touched his forehead with hers. "How are you feeling?"
She stretched, wrapped a leg around his and turned, becoming partially sprawled across him. She kissed him before answering. "Good."
His lips twisted slightly in a tease, "Just good?"
She kissed him again, "How long until I need to get up?"
"Long enough."
Expectation
She was sitting at the restaurant before he arrived. She was fiddling with a kunai below the tabletop and her eyes went back and forth as if reading something. She moved one hand upon the table. Her fingernails tapped against the top as she waited for him.
She'd made her decision.
He took a deep breath, preparing himself, and then walked further into the room. He sat across from her on the booth and she looked up at him. She fidgeted slightly, and her mouth opened. She shut it quickly and fidgeted again.
He pretended not to notice, and motioned to the waiter to take their order. They'd been coming for years; it was useless to look at the menu.
When the man left, he turned his attention back to her.
"I submitted my form and my application was accepted. The hokage has approved my transfer from ANBU to Konoha's Academy. I'll start teaching in a couple weeks."
He blinked, several times. He thought the answer would be more direct.
Doorway
The little girl stumbled down the hallway, falling several times. She shook her bob of black hair before pulling herself up. Eventually though, she made it to him.
He whisked her up and tickled her, she squealed with delight before struggling for freedom.
He let her go and off she went with a plastic shuriken in hand, to attack her next victim. The woman pretended to be surprised, although she'd been watching from the doorway the entire time.
The little one took off again, back to her own room.
Itachi smiled as she ran slightly lopsided, and then looked back to his wife.
Her hand was to her mouth, but then she caught his eye and broke into full laughter.
Consent
She was surprised when the young man showed up at the house. But when he asked to speak with her husband and her, it clicked immediately in her head. She was quick to show him to the table, and she smiled gently at the clearly shaken gentleman. He was nothing like his boisterous father. In fact, the only thing he seemed to pick up from Naruto was the golden locks.
The male began quivering when the thump alerted him to the entry of her husband. After many years, Itachi had finally relented into using a cane.
As if sensing the intent of the visit, her husband was staring at the man with all three red tomoe swirling. She couldn't blame the kid for shaking. It was enough to even make even an elite ANBU fidgety.
"Is there something you needed?" Yes, her husband already knew exactly what the man wanted.
The man shook more violently at the crisp tone and began stuttering all over the place.
They let it go on for about fifteen minutes before her husband slammed his cane upon the table.
"I would like permission to marry your daughter!"
Green eyes met black and both of them gave a knowing smile. Her husband was the one that answered. "You can have it-"
The boy released a breath of ease.
Sakura finished her husband's sentence, "Maybe..."
Slumber
He awakened before the first bird praised the sky.
He knew, before his white eyelashes fluttered. He knew, the sickest feeling in his stomach.
He moved slowly, his body hurting as it felt too old to bend in any position. But he had to. He turned to see her.
Her white hair was sprayed upon the pillow. Her eyes closed, her lips closed. There was no rise or fall of her chest, or the sound of her breath. She was motionless. One hand was still upon his shoulder; it was just beginning to chill.
He moved forward, slipping an arm around her waist, pulling her towards him. He kissed her cheek, the top of her head. He held her close. He held her tight.
He kissed her once more and let the tears silently fall from his eyes.
Finality
He lived several years after her passing.
The day that he died, his family found him far from home. He'd walked to an old training area, specifically to a place where the two of them used to train. He'd sat underneath the same tree they used to stretch under.
The book of haiku had fallen from him lap in the distress of the heart attack. His glasses lay on the grass a foot from his face. His eyes had been opened, his hand outstretched, as if reaching for something.
There was nothing though, nothing but an empty field.
But to a dying man perhaps there had been someone there.
Mayhap she'd been sitting, pink hair tied up, hands fiddling with a kunai, awaiting his arrival.