notes: typos fixed! (5/24/2019)
rating: K
disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
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20. heights
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It's no wonder that Uchiha Sasuke is a tall man—he'd always been tall.
He'd been taller than his classmates, a contributing factor that he often smirked at whenever a young bratty Naruto tears him apart with his glare whenever the two stood side-by-side whenever they met up as a team. He'd often tower over Karin while Suigetsu was roughly his height, and obviously, he needn't to say anything about their last teammate. The only person he could fondly remember who'd tower him all the time had been his brother; Itachi was the well-rounded perfect man, the only one Sasuke could accept to best him. When Itachi went away, never came back once and left Sasuke's poor boyish eyes scarred with visages of bloodshed and corpses, Sasuke felt the utter need to grow taller.
He wanted to tower over people. He wanted to be like Itachi and be tall. He wanted to show that he can hold his head high while walking with pride, proud of himself and his clan—he wanted people to see that this man (this boy) can be tall and strong like Itachi.
And if there's anyone he'd particularly enjoyed towering, it'd been Sakura.
Sasuke stood over her years ago, from childhood till adulthood, and it'd always been the top of her head meeting near his nose but now seems that her body limited her head meeting at the tip of his chin. He'd stare down at her; cranes his neck and he'd feel a knot forming when it'd start to hurt, but he would brush it aside and meet her eyes another time, then another and another. He liked her eyes—they embody the spirit of spring and often makes him feel at peace.
Whenever she embraced him, arms encircled around his waist and her head rests on his chest, he liked to crane his neck and press a side of his face unto her hair. It's the most natural feeling to him, and sometimes a wish would creep up and tell him to stay like that a second longer, don't let go just yet—it feels so right. And he isn't sure if it's just some sort of karma or some pitiful attempt from fate, but Sakura would tell him that he needs to get going for whatever else Naruto could assign him.
He'd sigh and go, just like what his wife wants, but Sasuke had always decided on one thing: he's glad to be tall.
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Haruno Sakura is a short girl, and it had always been that way.
Ino, with sneers and jeers, sometimes remarked it in passing as a form of jest—Sakura, the timid bud underneath spring's embrace, and Ino, the stunning iris in full bloom under the summer's sky. It'd been that way for some time; it struck Sakura in the nerves time and time again.
"You need to calm down and loosen up, Sa-ku-ra!" sings Ino, waving a spoon at her best friend, the same spoon she'd been using for her parfait. "So what if some of the patients called you short? They're just kids, little mischief-givers. Inojin was like that when he was a little boy."
Utterly faithful to her anmitsu, Sakura chews and arches an eyebrow. "It's a bit degrading when you have all of them call you that, and they only reach your waist." There were, probably, ten kids—ages between seven, eight, and nine—in the children's ward and Sakura found herself victim to most remarks if they were feeling partially merciless on a bad day. They are good children; they just have too much energy that couldn't be contained in one room and Sakura had a urge to interrogate the nurse who'd bought the kid toys for that ward because they certainly didn't do wonders for them.
"Just ignore them. Kids love attention, and you're involuntarily giving them that if you let it get to you, y'know." Ino, ever the helpful friend she is, nips at a plump strawberry decorating her parfait. "You're lucky that Sarada wasn't like that when she was younger. Inojin was sometimes a monster for me to handle by myself at the shop—thank goodness my husband always come back early to help or I'd be pretty tired."
Yes, good thing indeed that Sarada was raised with manners and turned out to not be like those rugrats. "I guess I could try that," she concedes at last, defeated. "It's not just the kids, though," she speaks up after five seconds, disgruntled. "Passing men outside, I hear it often." Sakura puffs and huffs like a wolf on the hunt for pigs. "It's not my fault that women are biologically shorter than men. It's simple biology, and yet, the blame is on me. Like—" She looks at Ino, eyes determining something. "—we're the same height, right?"
"Yes, we are." Eyes rolling, Ino is somewhat amused. "I think TenTen and Hinata are the same too, but maybe TenTen has a few extra millimeters above us. Temari-san definitely is taller than us by a bit last time we saw her."
"Okay, so maybe some women can be tall, but it's unfair how I'm being picked on for it."
Ino smiles, devilish. "You're special, Sakura." That's what you get for being a prominent war hero and starting clinics, being selfless and all-too-loving. It garnered Sakura extra attention, to which Ino would enviously comment about, but she reminds herself that she's happily married to a sweet (hot) man with an adorable son, so Ino settles with continuing her parfait with the same grin that ticked off her best friend.
Cheeky pig. "I don't like it."
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"Mama, what was that?" Sarada looks up from her spot near the door, herself seated and her body hunching so she could strap on her sandals for training in the fields till the afternoon.
Sakura comes out of the kitchen, a sheepish smile evident. "I just accidentally dropped a cup—don't worry, it's plastic." She lifts up her hand, fingers clutching onto a thin pink cup still stained with tea she'd sipped to the last drop. "Get to practice before Boruto shows up and drags you off himself!"
She'd argue that, but Sarada knows Boruto would absolutely do that if he felt that she took too long and he'd come with Mitsuki and Mitsuki would side with him against her. "I'll try to be back before dinner."
Left to her own for today until she readies herself for the hospital shift, Sakura sighs wearily to herself and sets the cup in the sink. Her eyes notice the color fading on several parts of the cup—probably, she scrubbed too hard whenever she went to clean it. Deciding it was best to stash it away for now, she'd reach to open a cabinet door above her and she grumbles when she sees that she needed to tiptoe to reach in as if that conversation with Ino hadn't haunted her for a while despite it happening just yesterday.
After rifling through some other drawers to spy for old wares no longer able to be used, Sakura decides to set those in the cupboard too with the cup—she'd have to see to disposing later when she picks up recycled boxes to pack them in. There is a stack of old dirty plates on the counter. Sakura stares and doesn't attempt to stuff it in the cupboard with the rest because she's not tall enough for it and to even try would result in hundreds of dish remains at her feet and she surely didn't want to step inside a hospital with bloodied feet—she'd be damned.
A hand reaches to grab a plate off the top, stealing her attention. Sakura could've gasped, but bit it back. It's also his home and she didn't need to faint and stare all starry-eyed whenever he did fancy a visit home.
Sasuke says nothing as he easily places dish by dish in the accursed cupboard, never needing to tiptoe. Sakura grumbles once more to herself at the inconvenience she'd presented herself, but shakes it off.
The lack of Sarada's presence makes Sakura embrace him and she does the usual routine Sasuke memorized—head on his chest and hands at his back, eyes closed, smile. And according to the routine, Sasuke lets her hug away and it feels so right.
Sakura smiles and smiles away until she eventually relinquishes her arms and smiles at him again before she makes haste for her shift.
Sometimes being short is good.
