Chapter 46:

I am six. Hot wind blows through my whispy black hair, making my eyes feel dry and itchy. I can smell Itachi's scent. I can feel his breathing with my chest against his back, an up and down cadence that calms my quickly beating heart. I know I'm too old to be asking for piggy-back rides, but I enjoy them, especially after getting hurt.

I got hurt a lot.

"So, Sasuke, what did Taki do again?"

I groan, because I've already told him twice. Itachi wouldn't ever punish me himself, but he had an obligation to tell our mother about any incidences I was involved in. The teachers stopped sending notes home and went directly to big brother, mentioning everything from grades to fights. He was a doctor, a teacher, and a guardian, all molded into one lean and scrawny body.

"He threw his doggie in the river."

"The pregnant one?"

After my hum of confirmation, I wiggle my fingers and uncurl them from big brothers shirt. There is blood on my knuckles, dark and cakey as if I'd been smashing berries. They hurt, but it's a good kind of hurt, like when you wade through thorny rosebushes to retrieve a girls hat, or you work really hard on making a wreath crown, and you're proud even though your fingers are sore.

"You know," Itachi says, putting me down onto the road outside of our home. "Father was right about you."

He doesn't walk into the compound like I think he will do. Instead, he takes a seat on a wicker chair and motions me towards its twin. I plop down, unsure about what kind of lecture I'm in for. Father doesn't talk to me much, mostly because it's hard to keep conversation with a young boy. He is interested in law and ninja stuff, not schoolwork and dinosaurs. What would he have said about me?

"What was father right about?" I ask.

Itachi is kind and gentle. He's someone I look up to, someone I aspire to be one day. I think there should be books written about him. I think he'll have his face carved in the side of the Hokage mountain when he looks as old as the Fourth. He picks at a loose reed from his chair, before clearing his throat and speaking.

"Father…wants you to take over his position as police chief someday. Did you know that?"

I clench my fist and furrow my eyebrows because I've never heard a hint of this before. It seems impossible for him to think something like that. His compliments are rare, almost nonexistent.

"That can't be true. Everyone says you're the genius. He'd want you there."

Itachi smiles a smile that is burned into my head. It reminds me of family holidays and brotherly bonding and the warmth of his lap when I rested my head upon it. It's a soft, sea-salt breeze. It's a rain-scented, foggy day. It's the feel of mint-tea rolling across your red tonsils.

It's perfect.

"Sasuke, we think differently. You are a genius that is swayed by his heart, and I am one that is swayed by my mind. That doesn't make one of us better than the other." All too suddenly, his expression turns grim. "Ninja cannot show emotion. They don't always operate on what is bad and what is good. They listen to their superiors and hope that they are wise and just. That's why father wants you to be with the police—your heart speaks too loudly for you to deny it."

I think I'm going to chew a hole through my lip. I'm trying my best to keep along and to understand. It's a lot to take in, especially when you're just learning what ninja even do. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because, I don't want you to stop listening to your heart. Save the pregnant dogs, Sasuke. Do what you think is right no matter what the punishment or deed is. So long as your spirit isn't cursed, you'll do the right thing, and that's why father wants you to be an officer. I know that, even if someone like me told you to let that dog be, you'd follow your heart. "

It's almost funny to hear his words now, because he is the one who damned me.

I am seven, and I am running.

I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die.

I feel like I'm trapped in a never-ending nightmare; I want mother to wake me up and tell me that everything is alright—Itachi wouldn't ever try to hurt me. I want to hear her voice and see her smile and fall asleep in her arms.

This is real, though.

Well, as real as seeing it second-hand could get.

A lady in the street sees me. She had just finished shooing a fat, mangy cat off her doorstep when the sound of my running feet caught her attention. My knees buckle before I can reach the doorstep to her home and I fall to the ground, heaving up the contents of my stomach.

"Are you alright?" She asks. I don't remember her voice sounding frightened, but maybe that's because I was worried about my own terror.

"He killed them," I say, in a shrill, childlike voice. It's hard to see from this grainy footage, but I know how deeply their blood stained my clothing.

She ushers me inside the screen turns black, cutting off a piece of my life from the audience. They don't know what happened afterward. They don't know how many bodies were taken away from the Uchiha compound, or how long it took for workers to clean the plasma and brain matter from windows and floorboards, or how many nights I woke up screaming, seeing this very night play out over and over in my mind.

They don't know, but I do.

Sakura weeps beside be, but I'm too numb to react.

Iruka-sensei is sitting on a chair in a brightly lit room. He is nodding to whoever is behind the camera, sharing a silent exchange of smiles and nods and thumb-ups. He looks older than the last time I saw him, but may that's because I rarely pay attention to relics of the past. His headband shines, as if he polishes it every day, and his uniform is neatly pressed.

"State your name,"

The voice is masculine and scratchy, almost like Shikamaru's. My ears are tuned, but my eyes are the best of my senses, and I'm not posititve on who is asking the questions. Nonetheless, it continues in it's lackadaisical monotone. "And tell the camera who you are."

"Uh, yes, I am Iruka Umino. I'm a Chunin academy teacher. I was Sasuke, Sakura, and Naruto's sensei before they were promoted to Genin level."

"Great. Now, what do you remember the most about our—their—class?"

He laughs and rubs his temples, as if the memory induces a headache. "They were a spirited bunch, that's for sure. There's always a few pranksters and delinquents in every grade, but I'd never had so many who were just as smart as they were devious. I always prided myself in never choosing favorites, but I began to look forward to our daily lessons more and more as time inched by."

The man behind the camera lets out a chuckle. "What do you remember the most about Team 7?"

"I suppose I should start with Naruto. He...was a crazy, good-for-nothing prankster. I cared a lot for him, because he was like I was at that age. Every sentence I said was questioned, and every time I disciplined him it felt as though I was getting nowhere. In all, he was a knuckle-headed goofball who didn't know just how precious he was."

Iruka crosses his arms and takes a long drink of water. The stiffness of his vest seems to be getting to him, so he unzips the first few inches and tugs the material away from his neck.

I take this time to look at Naruto, who no longer has his grip on Hojo and instead, just like everyone else, is watching the TV in awe. Naruto was very open and comfortable about his feelings, which is rare for a man and even rarer for ninja. Hearing Iruka speak so candidly must be quite the shock for him.

"Sakura Haruno was sweet and quiet." Iruka continues. "I had always assumed she'd work as a genjutsu-specialist, but she's gone far beyond that. Her mind worked in mysterious ways—all of her knowledge was self-taught. She didn't even know how to read when she first started the academy, but the girl was tenacious and eventually became one of our most intelligent students."

Sakura and I are always drawn together, whether it be inexplicable or understandable. The sound of her voice can pull me out of the deepest recess of my mind. The smell of her hair can level me. The touch of her skin can send a wild blaze of heat across my entire being. But those eyes, oh, those emerald eyes, they can shatter my spirit in one fell swoop.

I am not afraid of what she will say to me, but I do want it to be postponed. I cannot tell if I'm meant to be redeemed or condemned at the end of this video, but whatever it may be, I want to experience my life through someone else's point-of-view. I know all of the bad, but there's a lot of good that I missed out on. What was I blinded to, in my darkness?

"Finally, there's Sasuke, the pride of the Uchiha clan. He was the best student anyone could ask for."

Iruka dusts off imaginary dirt from his bottoms and takes another sip of water. After a few seconds of wiping his lips, and another brush of his jeans, he continues. "He turned in his work on time, never bothered anyone, and did what he was told…on most occasions. The only time I can remember a discrepancy in his attitude was during the second semester of school. I had once told everyone to write down who they would want to be with, if the moon were to fall."

The camerman laughs, as if he remembers that day clearly. This seems to take some discomfort out of Iruka.

"It's a simple request, really, but this group always had something silly to say. Naruto, of course, made a mockery of me. He has always been really good at bringing out the worst of my attitude...

"Anyways, after I settled everyone down and convinced them to write on their paper, I rewarded them with a recess so I could read their notes. This is a question I ask every year, you know, so I'm rarely surprised by what's wrote down. Some kids put their parents and their siblings on their papers, some boys and girls like to scribble their crushes names—none of that is unusual. There's always someone that they want to be with.

"Naruto was an exception for a lot of things, and I wasn't angry at that. For this project, I knew he would have a difficult time choosing someone he trusted in that way. He ended up throwing his note out of the window, so I made a big scene about how childish he was, knowing full well I wouldn't have graded it anyways.

"Per usual, Sasuke Uchiha's work was at the bottom of the pile. The class president, who had a huge crush on him, liked to keep him in the classroom as long as she could with the hopes of a simple conversation. His parents really raised him right, you know, because he sat through her slow pace every day. Poor guy. When I finally got around to his assignment, I was surprised that it was not finished. At least, not in a way I was expecting…"

I steady my breathing, trying to remember this event as if it were important to me. To be honest, I don't remember much about the weeks following the murder of my clan. They just kind of mesh together, nights and days full of training and crying and coiling rage.

"What did his paper say, sir? Who did Sasuke want to be with, if the moon fell?"

"It said, "Ochiru,"."

Let it fall.

I am 12, and we are waiting for Kakashi to finish his shitty introduction. He goes on about nothing, only giving me his full name, making both Sakura and Naruto completely annoyed. I am both anxious and exhausted, because I'm one step closer to completing my goal, but I'm also weighed down with the lives of two obnoxious children.

Sakura sassily whispers to us, "So all he told us was his name? Che!"

Naruto is bright and big for all to see. He adjusts his headband as he speaks, ready to introduce himself. He is talking from his chest, like a bullfrog. "...and my dream is to surpass the Hokage, so the people of this village acknowledge my existence!"

For the first time since the video started, someone yells out. It's not in anger or a heckle. It's a shout of appraisal. Naruto always had a knack for bringing people together, and before long scattered claps and cheers ricochet around. I can feel the orange idiot come up beside me, and he offers no reassurance besides his presence.

He knows that is enough for me.

My introduction is just as vague as Kakashi's, except I waste no time telling my ambitions. "...To kill a certain man."

The reactions between my teammates are comical to some, because at least a few laugh out loud. To me, I see my own strength and perseverance shine through. That was back when I only knew of black and white things; when I believed good and evil could not co-exist.

"Ya know, Sasuke," Naruto says to me. "I was sure you meant me when you said that."

When it's Sakura's turn, she's all blushes and smiles. I'm sure it's an uncommon occurrence now—she's a formidable kunoichi who runs her own clinic. But, the girl on that screen is the girl I used to know. She is familiar, safe, just as safe as the Sakura who is flanking me, but so many things are different about her.

Adult Sakura is lean and spry, confident in her prowess but not in her body—while her old self seems to be the complete opposite. The girl on the monitor has never killed. The girl on the monitor believed in true love and fairy tales. Turning her head to hide herself from the embarrassment of her past, Sakura ducks behind her hands, only peeking now and again.

"Um, well, what I like is…I mean the person I like…"

Back then, I hadn't learned to control the heat that rose to my face when she said something troublesome. I had never needed to cover up a blush. Just like all things, I got better with age, but I was still so young. From the camera on the bridge you can see the redness that feathers my pale skin as she prattles on about nonsense.

Sakura whips towards me, sporting the same dark color upon her cheeks. Her face is a mixture of confusion and bemusement, but all I can think about is how dizzying it must be to go from wanting to fight me, to looking at me like I'm a human again.

I'm twelve and we're on our first D-Rank mission. The day is warm and our bodies are sticky with sweat—we've been plucking weeds for hours now. Naruto pulls everything from the ground, creating a huge pile of healthy and intrusive plants. Kakashi is sitting under a tree, reading his strange novel slower than a snails pace. Sakura is bending over a fence-line, craning her arms so she can reach a fist-sized dandelion from the field.

I am watching, starstruck, as the black fabric of her shorts rise and show skin that is normally hidden from view. I don't know why I can't turn my eyes away. I don't know why the action distracts me—but Kakashi knows, and when he clears his throat I jerk my head back towards him and throw a menacing sneer.

The audience seems to think the entire situation is incredibly hysterical. They forget that I was once a young boy, too, who had hormones and lewd thoughts and embarrassing moments. This isn't anything I particularly care to be seen, but I'm tired of being someone I'm not.

I didn't love Sakura then. I didn't think of anything beyond the fact that her skin looked soft, and maybe I wouldn't mind touching it, if I were a different person. When she finally picks that dandelion, the long-haired teen skips straight to me and thrusts it into my chests.

I don't take it.

I want to burn it.

I am 13, and the Chunin exams arrive. I am staring down Orochimaru. Everything about him makes my body, cells and all, scream for me to get away. The first time I'd ever felt a fear like this, was when Itachi was chasing me down the streets of our family compound. The only difference is that I could run that time. The bloodlust within Orochimaru is enough to completely halt me. I can see my own death through his eyes—a kunai to the forehead—and my body shakes and heaves in response.

It would have been smart to leave Sakura behind, then. It wouldn't have been very righteous of me, but I have never been known for being a good person. I could have saved her a lot of turmoil.

The silence from the stadium is almost palpable. It's as if... as if they can hear the thoughts that pour out of my head.

But I am 13, and I'm not evil. I am 13 and all I can think about is the way Sakura is trembling, the paleness of her usually healthy skin, the absolute terror in her eyes, and I know I can't let her get hurt. I would never let her get hurt.

In slow motion, I pull out my own kunai and force it into my thigh. Blood starts pouring from my leg instantly, seeping along the whiteness of my shorts like a puddle. The pain is enough to make me move, so I do, and I wrap my arms around Sakura just in time to dodge those poison-tipped knives. You can see the urgency in my movements. My steps are quiet and I try to formulate a plan, anything to get us out of this situation and away from the tidal wave that is Orochimaru.

Things were never that easy with the Snake Sanin.

It's almost like a movie drama—except; I've already read the book. I know what happens next, but seeing it play out is a new experience all together. A fight rages on and I'm scared, I'm willing to give up our chance at becoming Chunin just to walk away from this unscathed. I don't want to die…I can't die, because I wouldn't be able to avenge my clan if I was dead. It didn't matter what Naruto said or did because he was an idiot that was stapled to a tree. He was an idiot that left everything to me.

My flight instincts scream at me to leave, to run. Sakura Haruno, screams something different.

Her words cut me deep and they draw out a strength I never knew I had. I didn't know it then, but Sakura had a knack for bringing out the best of me. "It's true, that unlike you, Naruto is clumsy and can get in the way…"

I hear her, all the while keeping my eyes on the man that could end everything.

"But, at least he's not a coward!"

I thought about Itachi, then. I thought about his decree. I did not want to hate, and live in spite, and run, and cling desperately to my life. I did not want to kill the people I cared for just to get stronger. I did not want to hide from fearsome enemies just to wake up weaker the next day.

So, I fight.

I fight with every ounce of my teenage will. I parry and juke and trick and hit, my fire is skin-melting hot and my kicks are bone-crushing fast. If it had been anyone else, I might have been victorious. But no matter how often I capture him, or how well I do, nothing works and Orochimaru wont die. In the end, I make no headway, and the next thing I know I'm on my knees with molten lava seeping through two small puncture wounds on my neck.

Sakura's shriek lingers in the air. Her first line of action is to question the Sanin, but my inhuman screams draw her nearer to my body. I would not even be able to recognize the noise coming from my lips if I didn't see myself yelling it out, squeezing Sakura's hand as tightly as I could. I don't think I was even coherent at that time.

In those seconds as she looked up to the sky, asking what she should do, pleading to the gods to help her, all goes quite.

The next few moments are ones that do not belong to me. She is seen carrying both mine and Naruto's body through layers of thick foliage, searching for the best spot to rest without drawing any more attention to herself. This girl, with no healing abilities or noticeable strengths, becomes a force to be reckoned with.

Each track her shoes make is expertly covered. Sakura alternates between our bodies, stowing one under the cover of leaves and dirt as she hauls the other deeper and deeper into the woods. Just when you think she's done for, she repeats her trek, finally ending her struggle in the hollow of a large oak tree. She pours water down our mouths and places cloths on our heads to drop our fevers. Her tiny body moves silently, setting traps as exhaustion eats away at her reserves.

You can always tell how much a person means to you when they are at their lowest. It's easy for someone to die for you, because death is simple and normally quick. But to live for someone…to fight for them, to protect their essence and disregard self-preservation—this is true courage. This is true power. This is rare.

Night comes and goes; Sakura does not sleep. She is dithering between unconsciousness, but still stays alert enough to check our temperatures and dampen our lips with the torn cloth of her skirt. Small, feminine fingers linger over our throats, counting pulses as she keeps a mental note of the rises and falls of our heartbeats. When she is finally attacked, I start to remember.

I remember how much I wanted to kill.

I am 13 and I wake up to the sound of Sakura's grunts. I didn't know it was her, then, but I do now. Even Rock Lee had tried to save us, and for that I'm eternally grateful. I know I don't show gratitude as much as I should, but there's no time like the present. I swear, after all of this, I have a lot of making up to do. Especially to her.

The cameras don't quite pick up on the chakra seeping from my pores. You can see the shock and horror on the faces of those present. You can see just how fearsome I was, looking around that battlefield, asking who had hurt Sakura.

Sakura, the smart one. Sakura, the smiley one. Sakura, the one that never deserved to get injured because of me or Naruto.

I can admit now that I snapped. I felt a surge of power I could have never imagined run through me. I was 13, and I was invincible, and I wasn't going to let these people get away with what they'd done.

The audience remembers the boy who ogled at the girl who bent over to pick flowers for him. Now, they will remember the boy who dislocated a mans shoulders because he hurt the girl who brings him flowers.

My anger was not so easily appeased. I felt a need to destroy every last one of them—the man with the sleeves that were too large and the cocky, brown-haired woman. I even felt anger for the ones that let this happen. What the hell was Lee doing on the ground like that? Ino, Shikamaru, Choji, none of you could help her?

But, I am only 13. I am still just a boy who can be calmed by the simplest of things. I don't want my friends to be afraid of me. I don't want Sakura to be afraid of me. As I am walking, ready to end that Sound ninja's life, I suddenly feel the hands of heaven draw me back down.

"Stop," They say. They were warm and shaking, but sturdy. I could lean into them. I could fall into them. "Please, Sasuke, don't do this."

I knew that voice. I turn and find Sakura, with wide, green eyes that overflow with tears upon tears upon tears.

I am still just a boy who can be calmed by the simplest of things.

I don't want my friends to be afraid of me.

I don't want Sakura to be afraid of me.

Not ever.

"You didn't finish any of them off." Orochimaru says.

I am 14, and I am bored. There's a scent of must and blood in the air that makes my stomach churn. Anyone else would be used to it, living with Orochimaru, but I'm still sensitive to the aroma.

Around me, one-thousand men lie. Each one is knocked out, but breathing. I'm sure he's rounded up the baddest of the bad—not performance-wise, but morally—just so I'd feel a bit better about offing them. They were probably murderers or rapists or thieves.

It matters not, because none of them are Itachi, and I only have sway over his life.

"These aren't the men I need to kill."

I am 15. I am waiting in a room where the most hideous of Orochimaru's experiments are created. I know every inch of his underground facility, and every ounce of information in regards to his test subjects. My plan is to learn this man inside and out, so that when he comes for my body, I'll have every advantage on my side. The time is coming. I can feel it.

The Snake Sanin is testing my rage. He says, "Tell me, boy, are you weak?"

Looking at him no longer disgusts me. I don't bother hiding the hatred in my eyes. I hate this man for everything that he is and isn't, but he is the strongest person I know, and as much as I don't want to admit it, I need him.

"Don't talk to me."

There is a dummy in front of me, shaped with hay to resemble a human man. I am working on a new jutsu, one that stretches my Chidori along the length of my blade. It will help me greatly in the event I'm forced away from an opponent.

"You can kill them, then?"

"I can kill anyone." I respond. I could, if I needed to. It didn't mean I would.

"Oh, I believe you. You killed you lover, after all."

"She wasn't my lover."

That Geisha was nothing to me. She was just another puppet to Orochimaru and Kabuto—a training specimen used to take away anything pure that was left within me, and hold it above my head.

I remember when I took her life. I remember when I was forced down, drugged, kept on the horizon of reality and fantasy. I remember waking up to her nails sending long welts along the flesh of my chest as she took me, telling me that I was still weak. That I was a weak, little boy who would never become a man unless I enjoyed the warmth between her legs.

I remember wrapping my hands around her throat and never letting go, even when she'd turned blue.

I remember that I had never felt higher in all my life, than I did when I killed someone that dared to hurt me.

I couldn't wait to end Itachi.

Orochimaru circles me, looking at the shell of who I am. "Your body is in perfect condition. Your mind is altered enough so taking control of it will be child's play. But, even with all of my help, I'm not sure you can kill Itachi."

This angers me, because I've done everything right. I can almost sense his hesitancy. For a moment, I feel as though he'd rather battle me now and end it all. I am only 15, and I'm still not where I need to be power-wise.

I am only 15, and I know if I fight Orochimaru now, I will lose.

"And why is that?"

"It's simply because you couldn't kill Naruto."

I hate the sound of his name. I hate how he is still holding me back, after all these years. I feel my body clench and coil. I feel rage build up within me. As if he can tell how annoyed I am, Orochimaru laughs and brings out the saddest excuse of a clone I had ever seen.

This isn't a genjutsu. This isn't, technically, a shadow clone. But, this isn't Naruto either. He's still short and lanky, as if he hadn't grown an inch from when I'd left. The thing is kicking and cursing and screaming against the henchman that brought him out. I want nothing more than to put it out of its misery.

"If you can kill him, I'd say you could even kill Itachi. We've extracted the Nine Tailed Fox. He's of no use to us now."

If killing this fake will give the Snake Sanin some resolve, I'll do it. It's easy. I plunge my sword into its heart and slide it right back out, flicking my weapon roughly to rid it of blood.

Orochimaru laughs, clearly happy.

"Can you kill her? Can you kill the innocent?"

He says everything he'd said before, when the video was first played. Orochimaru knows how much Sakura means to me, even if this thing isn't really her at all. She comes out, screaming, "You killed him, you killed him, I hate you!"

But this isn't Sakura.

Even on her weakest of days, she would never give in to her sadness and listen to her captor. When Orochimaru said, "Quiet, you!" She would have screamed louder. When she saw me hurt Naruto, she would have fought tooth and nail to at least land a hit.

Sakura isn't weak.

I crouch down beside this thing and look at everything wrong with her. The eyes aren't Sakura's green. The hair isn't Sakura's pink. The skin isn't Sakura's peach. I snap it's neck and end it all.

But this time, the cameras don't cut off there. Kabuto comes into the room with a clipboard on his hip, eyeing the situation sarcastically. "Lord Orochimaru, I could have made a more believable duo if you'd had just asked. We still have plenty experiments left over."

"No, you couldn't have." I say. "No one knows Naruto and Sakura, like I do."

Naruto is as silent as he's ever been. He had always known Sasuke was better than what was originally portrayed. He had always known he'd lived a hard life, that he'd dealt some heavy blows.

It's still difficult to watch it all play out.

Hojo is seething next to him, blinking away tears that threaten to fall. If Naruto were in his shoes, he'd call it quits, but Hojo isn't Naruto.

Sasuke stands motionless, looking up at the screen as it continues on with pieces of his life. There are lazy days by lakes, long nights by campfires, satisfying meals with his best friends. It's a part of him he'll never get back.

Stomping his feet, Yuma Hojo shoves himself directly into Sasuke's path. He pushes him roughly, hard enough to make him take a few steps back.

"You think this makes it all okay? You think your pitiful life is an excuse for you to treat everyone and everything like shit?"

"Hey, buddy," Naruto says tiredly. He places a heavy hand over Hojo's shoulder. "It's over now. Just stop with the fighting."

Sasuke is dazed. He's too calm.

"I won't stop fighting! I'll never stop fighting for what's right. This isn't right, Naruto. No one thinks this is right."

"No one is disagreeing with you, either!" Naruto finally snaps. He grabs the man by his collar, ignoring the roar of the audience. Sasuke's life is no longer on replay, and instead, a close-up of the action playing out is put on view.

"We get it. Sasuke did bad things. He did things no one will probably understand but himself. But what's so wrong about forgiveness? I could forgive Jiraya, who was my Godfather, who left me to be raised by the village. I could forgive Kakashi, who favored Sasuke more than me or Sakura. I forgave Gaara, who tried to kill me. I forgave Obito, who murdered my parents. I can forgive all of these people, including Sasuke, and you're telling me you don't have the capacity to do the same? What in the hell makes you think it's your place to decide any of this, anyways?"

With a voice like a child, Sakura makes herself known. She looks up from her hands, letting emerald eyes roam between Naruto's angered face and Hojo's. "He's right,"

She is not speaking about Naruto. She is not speaking about Hojo. She is speaking about Sasuke, and it's evident when she turns to him fully. "Naruto doesn't need to worry about me. You're right. He's got a baby on the way. He's building a family. My happiness shouldn't bother him in the least. I can be happy on my own."

Each step she takes seems to ricochet around everyone. Sasuke is stiff, still, and quiet as she approaches. The blood that rushes around his eardrums seems too loud. His heard beats too hard. His chest rises and falls too erratically.

He's nervous.

"I won't ask Ino for any more advice. She means well, but she sways me in directions I don't want to head. That hurts me sometimes. I don't like it."

Her fingertips brush his forearm, and slide up his biceps to his shoulders. They're broad, muscular and smooth—Sakura can feel his skin even through the material of his shirt.

"My mom needs to accept me for who I am, and who I am not. I don't regret what I said to her, but I regret how I said it. I don't care if I don't live up to her expectations. I don't need anyone to make me feel wanted or worth it."

Sasuke closes his eyes and reaches up to Sakura's jaw. He cradles it, rubbing the rough pads of his thumbs over the thin skin of her reddened cheeks.

He wants her to know all of his secrets. He wants her to know about the Uchiha, and the coup d'état. He wants her to know the truth about Itachi, and what happened in Orochimaru's hideouts. She needs to know about the geisha, his life on the run, his thoughts when he decided to destroy Konoha.

He wants her to know how it felt when she tried to kill him. He wants her to know how he felt, when he tried to kill her.

Everything is not so simple, though. Most stories start from the beginning, and Sasuke understands this. Before Sakura can know any of his past, she needs to know how much she meant to him when he left the village. She needs to know that her emotions were valid, and that he was an idiot for breaking things off the way he did.

When the scene replays once more, Sasuke knows it won't cut off when Sakura faints this time.

Sasuke is okay with that.

I am thirteen. Sakura's hair tickles my nose and my lips. It doesn't smell like rainforest mint, but instead, she carries the aroma of the outdoors. She had been waiting for me long enough to alter her scent.

She knew what I was going to do.

I aim for her neck, adding just enough pressure to incapacitate her for a good half-hour. I may have gone overboard, but I'm weak. I don't want her to wake up too soon. I don't want her to come after me again. I know what I've done is wrong, but it's a necessity. Sakura can stop me in my most hellish of forms, and, more worrisome, Sakura would die trying. I can't even muster up a better insult than, "You're annoying," to break her heart. It's hard for me to hurt her beyond truths.

She is annoying, after all.

Her hands hold to my shirt tightly. Even in unconsciousness she battles for my well being. Tears slide across her cheeks, oozing from pink eyelashes and it makes my legs shake.

I can't keep myself upright any longer.

I fall to my knees.

I give in to my weakness.

For all to see, I lose myself in Sakura's lips for the first time. In the present, Sakura shakes. Her palms press into my shoulders. She watches as I steal a kiss I had no right to own. She watches my mouth brush against her forehead, the one she was teased about relentlessly in her schoolyard days. Both eyelids beckoned me, and the taste of saltine droplets help me with my convictions, for they have the same flavor of my childhood sobs.

I still had an ambition to fulfill, and it had been alive even longer than I've known this girl.

But in my teenage head, I think there can be a happy ending. I think that, once I become stronger, I can kill Itachi and I can kill Orochimaru and I can come back. Liquid pours from my own eyes as I ponder all of these impossible, unreachable things.

"I'll come back for you." I say. And I meant it.

But I didn't come back.

I didn't think I ever would.

I have not seen heaven or hell, but I've been in the in-between. It is not a land of milk and honey, but one of trial and tribulation. Just like on this screen, I watched my life play out over again. I saw every mistake I'd ever made.

I don't have any problems facing Death. I'll take whatever shackle I'm dealt. I know that I deserve it.

Sakura is not like Death. She is incredibly forgiving—too forgiving—but she is also smart enough to know when she can't take it any more.

The thirteen-year-old I used to be removes her hands from my shirt, and kisses her palm delicately. You can see the resolve in my eyes. You can see my dedication, even as I walk away from her body and head towards my future.

I can't see any of that in Sakura.

She has a face that shows no emotion, almost as if her Inner Sakura has broken free. This expressionless monotone is almost too much for me to handle. I tilt her head up, and keep moving my thumbs over her soft skin.

"And what will you tell me?" I ask. I deserve to be rebuked, too.

I'm used to difficult situations, especially as a doctor. There's always something going on in my practice—heart attacks, broken bones, deliveries. At work, it's okay if I pretend. I'll hold Mrs. Yona's hand even though she bit me earlier that day. I'll give little Noi his sticker and lollipop, even though he said I looked like a fat cow.

But it's not okay to pretend in real life. It's not okay to keep falling behind, and relying on others to make me happy. Sasuke was the first to notice I was becoming over-watered. Naruto, Ino, my mother—they all helped be bloom into a courageous young woman, but now my petals are wilting because I'm too afraid to stand up to them, and make my own decisions.

I don't want to waste away.

When I look at Sasuke, his face is stern and serious. I've long since forgotten about the crowds around us, all watching his life as if it were some cheesy soap-opera. They all wait for me to do something.

Hell, even I wait for me to do something!

My emotions are all dried up. I don't want to cry, or smile, or scream anymore. All I want to do is touch Sasuke, just to make sure he's real—just to make sure this is all happening. I didn't know that I meant anything to him. I never thought I meant anything to him.

I'm not surprised when my hands travel up from his shoulders to the long line of his neck. I am kind of surprised I didn't choke him out, but anger isn't even processing as an emotion right now.

The truth is, I am drawn to him. He is an ocean, and I'm a boat, trying my best to drop anchor and hold steady. I've experienced low-tides—tides of sadness and emotion. I've been through deadly hurricanes—with his own hand around my neck, and with his willingness to destroy my home and my people. And finally, I've drifted on his lazy waves as he sent me to the shores of ecstasy, digging teeth into my flesh the entire way there.

I touch his cheeks with my fingertips, and cradle his chin as softly as I can. I don't want to say these things ever again, so I make sure his attention is me completely. I hurt. I feel broken. My boat is drifting further and further away, and it's not okay.

"Sasuke, I don't need you."

It feels as though I've swallowed a needle. Like I've stuck a toothpick under my toenail and kicked a wall. Like I've brushed my teeth with foil, and rinsed with burning sake. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to say, but I've done it, and there's no stopping now.

"I don't need you, like I thought I did when I was thirteen. I don't need you to make my dreams come true, to grant my every wish. I don't need you to make me feel complete, or like a woman, or like I'm worth something."

He closes his eyes again and leans into me, touching my nose with his own.

"You're not what wakes me up in the morning. I can survive when you leave tonight. I won't beg you to stay. I won't fall into depression and hate myself and try to be better than I already am. I like who I am. I love my flaws and my imperfections. I don't care who wants me and who doesn't...

...because...because...

I care about who I want. I don't need you, Sasuke."

I crash my mouth into his, and he doesn't even have time to react. It's like the first time all over again—our teeth hit painfully and I'm pretty sure I've busted my own lip. It's the farthest thing from romantic as I can get, but somehow, with Sasuke, it's somehow the sweetest kiss I've ever shared with him.

"But I want you," I admit aloud. "I want you, Sasuke. I want you every morning and every night, I want you forever and for always, until my body is rotting in the ground and I'm waiting for you beyond the clouds with the gods. I want you so badly it hurts."

"Sakura—" He says, huffing his hot breath across my face. I don't let him finish.

"Don't tell me that it's impossible, because I can triumph over any impossibility. Don't tell me that I don't understand, because my IQ is higher than yours hands down. I don't want to hear anything but a yes, or a no, Sasuke Uchiha. I just need to say this, I need to ask, I need to know. I'm done feeling this way."

He peeks at me from beyond his tussled fringe, from beyond his too-feminine-for-such-a-masculine-man eyelashes, from beyond his obsidian and amethyst eyes, all the way into the deepest part of my soul.

I ask, "Will you marry me?"

And I start hear the pounding of one-thousand horses' hooves.

After a long, long pause, Sasuke wipes his face with his hands a mumbles: "I'm already yours."

And I realize that that pounding doesn't belong to my heart, but it belongs to the people of Konoha. They erupt with applause and cheer, shaking the ground harder than I've felt before. These people that I would die to protect—these people that Sasuke has sworn to look over—they all bellow and holler out praise.

My fingers and toes vibrate from it all. A breath I didn't know I had been holding is released, only so I can suck up another and scream as loud as I can.

"He said yes," I push Sasuke away, throwing my arms up in the air. "He said yes!"

I feel Naruto wrap his arms around me, swinging my body like a rag doll. My stomach falls drops low from the force of the tugs, but I don't care. I'm too busy with my joy.

"He said yes!" we repeat together. I suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to kiss Naruto, so I do. I plant my lips on his chin, and when I see Kakashi make his way through the arena's opening, I sprint towards him and kiss him, too.

"He said yes, Kakashi-sensei!"

"I heard!"

Kakashi doesn't hold me much longer, because Sasuke has had enough of my fawning. He heaves me over his shoulder in one go, yelling threats at both of his teammates.

"Stop letting her kiss you, perverts."

"I WON'T STOP!" Naruto exclaims. "YOU SAID YES!"

"Yay," Kakashi exclaims dryly. "What fun. Hoorah. More paperwork."

"Don't be silly, Kakashi!" the blond man announces. "You've already don't half of it. Sasuke's been married to Sakura for a good half-month now, right?"

Suddenly, Sakura freezes in Sasuke's arms. The audience has yet to catch on to the sudden change, but Team 7 comprehends the flop of emotion rather quickly. In a dark, almost demonic voice, Sakura asks: "What?"