CHAPTER 5
p.2
Mistakes

Re-edited: 12 January 2019

Epigraph:

Swiping black lipstick across pale lips
Like ink across parchment
A black beacon
In a milky white sea
A subtle act of defiance
On an obedient child.

—Unknown

ʚ—ɞ

"You know, I heard the most insane gossip earlier this week."

Haruno Sakura disregarded her blonde companion as she concentrated on casting a jutsu that would contain the thread of smoke rising from their makeshift campfire. Sadly, Ino considered herself above being ignored. The blonde continued her tirade as if Sakura had cared to respond. "Half the village is talking about how you supposedly attended an omiai."

A hint of leaked chakra and a ripple in the barrier alerted them to another person crossing the alcove entrance. Moments later, bundles of dry wood dropped onto the ground beside where Sakura had taken refuge.

Relieved of the extra weight, Tenten dusted her hands before planting one on her jutted hip. "What are you going on about now, Ino?"

"Tenten, you have to hear this. Those little nobodies had the gall to spread false rumours about Forehead." Ino huffed, flicking her ponytailed hair off her shoulder, "And you know the funniest part? They're saying she was frolicking with an Uchiha. An Uchiha."

"Oh?" A brow quirked in obvious dubiety, Tenten chuckled. "That'll be the day indeed."

Ino jerked away from the moulded wall, her arms flying animatedly above her head, "That's what I told them! I mean, how dare they insinuate I don't keep track of every little detail about Forehead's life? I think I'd know if my best friend decided to sink her claws into Uchiha flesh, thank you very much."

Team Bamboo's gossip queen looked thoroughly affronted. Ino prided herself as an incredibly perceptive individual, more so when it comes to her closest persons. After all, the Yamanaka clan's speciality laid with mind tricks, making them experts at intelligence gathering and sly interrogation. Sakura ultimately insulted Ino by withholding valuable information, and she didn't know how to come clean.

"That's creepy Ino." Tenten crouched next to her backpack, rummaging through it for her scrolls. "One of these days, someone would mistake you for her stalker."

Ino harrumphed, crossing her arms indignantly over her busty chest. "Excuse me, it is not stalking. I am simply keeping tabs on people I deem worthy of my time."

Tenten rolled her eyes, "Sure you are Ino."

"I am! Which is why I know these rumours about Sakura having an omiai with an Uchiha is nothing but a load of bull." Ino hastily turned to Sakura, "Right, Forehead?"

Explicitly choosing one of the longer sticks Tenten had collected, Sakura stoked the fire with a hint more force than necessary. She didn't want to confess. She didn't need to confess. This mission was a scapegoat where neither her traitorous family nor her impending nuptials could haunt her. All Sakura wanted was a momentary reprieve from the blasphemous situation, but apparently, Yamanaka Ino couldn't even give her that.

Perhaps ignoring her would make her go away.

Or at least eventually shut her up.

"Forehead, why are you so quiet?"

Sakura groaned internally. Grabbing a handful of branches on either end, Sakura slammed its flimsy frames on her thighs, satiating a hint of her sociopathic thirst by severing them into uneven halves. She threw it one by one into the pit and watched as the unquenchable flames lapped up each paltry piece as eagerly as Ino pounces on daily gossip.

Perhaps she should throw Ino into the fire instead?

"You're acting weird," Tenten stopped unrolling her scroll midway, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What are you even thinking about, Sakura?"

A harsh thud and a scandalised gasped had all attention focusing on Ino. "No way."

"No, no, no." She scrambled towards Sakura, grabbing her best friend by the shoulders. The blond shook her back and forth in wild frenzy, uncaring of the roughness of her manhandling. "It can't possibly be true. Haruno Sakura it isn't true, is it?"

WHIZZ

Sakura winced when a sharp nail dug into the flesh of her skin. Her heart suddenly picked-up pace, blood rushing through her ears as dizziness hit her out of the blue.

"S-sakura…" She could barely hear what Ino was ranting about. Or did the blond finally stop talking? It was miraculous; Ino never shuts up. "Sakura snap out of it!"

Just like how her mother never shuts up about the Uchiha.

That was all she spoke about these days. Uchiha this, Uchiha that, Itachi, Itachi, Itachi. If she loved him that much, maybe Mebuki should marry their precious heir instead.

The acute sting of a hand slapping the soft tissue of her cheek had Sakura coming to her senses. Her neck snapped to a side. Overcast eyes peeked open to a blurry image of a senbon sticking out of the bulk of her biceps. The metal gleamed menacingly as blood trickled down the purpling flesh of her arm.

Huh, she almost died there.

"SAKURA GET UP!"

Sakura got up.

She got up like a newborn babe learning to take their first step; awkward, sloppy and fumbling to find the right balance. The virulent burn of poison churned into her blood, its toxicity embedding within the cells of functioning nerves and crippling the movements of her muscles. Sakura's stomach rolled when nausea threatened to rise up her throat. Her knees blustered to give in.

It was excruciating.

Chest heaving from extreme exertion, Sakura forced her deadened hand to grasp the slick length of the damned senbon. She refused to go down by a flimsy piece of plated alloy. So with a hoarse cry that resonated ubiquitously within the spinning confines of the cave, she yanked at the metal rod.

A violent gust of chakra disseminated from her body as her Byakugo Seal released itself. The poison, unknown as it might be, had no fighting chance. Its acridity soon fizzled into inexistence as fresh waves of medicinal chakra flowed through her veins, cleansing and curing and mending the damage of toxic corrosion. The tissues around the piercing wound stitched shut. Sakura's vision soon cleared and her heart slowed to a steady beat.

Now alert, she carefully assessed the situation at hand.

Shinobi. Masked, dark-garbed shinobi with no identifiable headbands—nearly a dozen of them had swarmed the stone cave, brutal as they coordinated joint attacks against her teammates who were severely outnumbered. The men moved with the trained ease of assassins. Despite the booming clangs of weaponry and the occasional bursts of jutsu, these shinobi manoeuvred themselves with an eerie silence. Their footfalls were nearly imperceptible and their strikes calculated to target one-hit lethal points.

This wasn't a random ambush.

They were here to kill.

Shaking off the last tide of haziness, Sakura slipped on her leather gloves, tugging firmly at the tough material to secure it. She cracked her neck. She lifted her fist. The ground exploded the second her punch made contact. Large fissures and cracks spiralled out of control, rapid as it directly headed towards the battleground. It threw the masked men off balance. One by one they flipped backwards and away from her manmade devastation.

Tenten and Ino were unfazed, however, too accustomed to the potency of Sakura's chakra-enhanced blows. The two kunoichis broke no sweat as they reconvened at her side.

"You good?" Tenten questioned, her concerned gaze raking the medic's body for any signs of injury. She couldn't detect any, so when Sakura nodded, she relaxed.

Ino clapped Sakura on her back. It stung more than it should have. "Be more careful, Forehead. I'd rather not carry your fat corpse back to the base."

Sakura rolled her eyes at the jibe but otherwise left it ignored. "Ready?"

With a smirk and a scoff, the three girls scattered.

These shinobi may be deemed skilled by many, but they were mere amateurs to Team Bamboo. Their first mistake was underestimating Sakura and relying on their silly potion to finish her off.

The second?

It was seeing the girls' faces.

Ready or not, the chase had begun, and their precious prey would not live to see the light of dawn.

ʚ—ɞ

"My, that was spectacular! The way she preached then walked off like she was just so done with him? I, for one, am glad I came to this little celebration."

"Indeed, indeed. Walked right off like the sinfully insulted." The chuckle that followed was mildly irritating. "Who'd have thought my foolish cousin would blunder at something so uncomplicated."

An unmistakable feminine laugh. "Ah, Konoha's ever-prodigious ANBU Captain brought down by the spite of a scorned woman."

"Cheers to the Uchiha charms that had never failed so remarkably."

The clink of glass knocking on glass resounded louder than usual. "Cheers, dear boy!"

Uchiha Itachi gulped down a glass of red wine, ignoring the infamous Uzumaki matriarch and his aggravating cousin like they weren't seated in the same table. The tragic episode with Sakura had been a little more public than he had hoped. Now his family was unforgiving as they poked fun at his poor lapse in judgement.

"Aww, are you mad Ita-chan?" Shisui ruffled his hair, and Itachi felt five again, questioning the older Uchiha about the true meaning of life. "This is why I told you to talk to her Itachi. You could have avoided that outcome, but no, of course you wouldn't listen to me."

He was right.

Of course Shisui was right.

But that doesn't mean he'd give the man the satisfaction of admitting the error of his ways. Pouring himself another glass, Itachi tossed back the rich, red liquid in one swallow, savouring its bitter tang as it travelled down his parched throat.

"There, there, Itachi," Kushina crooned, patting the agonised heir on the back.

This was the first time she had seen him shed that vexing Uchiha composure. Growing up, he had always been so sure of himself—so brilliant and accomplished even at such a young age. Yet here he was at the cusp of adulthood, battered by a harsh lesson from the girl he fancied. If Kushina were honest, it was about time too.

Some battles in life you lose before you can succeed, and in this particular situation, it was the meaning behind the tricks of the game, not the thrill of another win, that Itachi needed to learn.

"Think of it this way; now that you know your shortcomings, you have a chance to make it right. Prove it to her that you're not what she accused you to be."

Itachi could appreciate the older woman's effort to comfort him, but her words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. His intentions may have been pure, but Sakura did not know that. She did not hear the low rumble of the grapevine as he had, so it was unsurprising that she viewed this entire ordeal as nothing but an act borne out of conceit.

Pitiful as it was, Itachi too laughed at his own idiocy.

He had watched over Sakura enough to predict she would feel blindsided by an engagement offer that drops out of a pompous hat. Sakura, who strayed away from men as if they were a degenerate disease. Sakura, who turned her cheek at their androcentric culture with no ounce of remorse.

He fell for her dogmatic rebellion yet failed to take what she valued most into consideration; her unwavering independence.

Well done, Itachi, the dejected Uchiha heir sighed, truly a job well done.

He reached for the near-empty wine bottle hoping for another taste of alcoholic consolation, but a hand latched firmly onto his shoulder, stopping his movement. He turned to see Shisui shake his head, chin nudging towards an approaching figure.

Itachi immediately straightened himself in his seat. He cleared his throat. "Okaa-san."

There was a reason he chose the corner most table to mope, and she now stood over him with eyes that berate him in ways words could not. He has yet to find a living creature who terrified him more than the Uchiha matriarch.

"Your father will be giving his speech soon."

And that was all she needed to say.

Itachi trekked after his mother knowing his filial duties cannot be put on hold for a mere pity party. The stares bore into his skin like acid burning away at flesh, seeking for the dirt underneath that would shame him while he took position beside his parents on the makeshift stage. Their low murmurs reached his ears, but the Uchiha heir held his head high, uncaring of the clan's blatant scrutiny for his public display of humiliation.

He was not new to their prodding and hell would be in high waters before he folds under their criticisms.

The crowd soon hushed when the clear tinkling of glass resonated around the open grounds. His father lowered his appendage that held onto a flute of champagne and a teaspoon, taking a step forward to officially address those gathered around them.

"Family, friends and beloved guests, I wish to thank you for being here with us to celebrate this momentous occasion. It is indeed an honour." Fugaku paused a moment, waiting until the round of applause died back down. "As a fellow parent, most of you would understand my sentiment when I say time never slows. One moment you're holding your newborn, awed and a little tongue-tied as you wish to give them the world, and the next, they're arguing with you about the world."

Rich laughter burst from the mass below the stage. An awfully sober Itachi dismissed it, searching the sea of brunettes and raven-heads then the perimeter of the glade for any sign of his little brother. It was odd he wasn't up here with them. It was even odder he was nowhere within near vicinity.

"Those are children for you. They grow up so fast, day after day, learning about life the hard way and deciding their own paths to take. You can protect them all you want, but in the end, all you can do is guide them. They'll be who they want to be, with or without your help. I would know, both my sons are quite determined to stray away from my teachings."

Itachi swats away the urge to roll his eyes. Konoha had long renowned Uchiha Fugaku for an impervious, cold-hearted clan leader, but few could admit to the patriarch's sense of humour. It was rare and not quite up to par with his practised impassivity, but it was there nonetheless.

"Now I may not agree with their current lifestyles, but I am proud of the person they have become—the people they are turning out to be. They have accomplished far more than I have at their age and no one can deny that. Not even I." Fugaku raised the flute of champagne once again and turned to face his son who stood stoically to a side. "Now I propose a toast to one of my sons who surpassed every expectation of him; to my eldest, Itachi."

The Uchiha heir shifted his attention back to his parents. He was taken aback to see his mother beaming at him for the first time that night. It was a genuine smile, one he had always associated with her doting personality.

"Happy Birthday, my boy."

A chorus of well wishes rang through the crowd, joyous in their cheers and standing ovation. It was excessive, really, but Itachi was humbled as he bowed before them in gratitude. His father was never as generous with affections as he was with rules and obligations, but neither he nor his brother held it against him. The man tried the best he could.

"On another note, there's an announcement I'm sure you have all been anticipating since this party had commenced."

From the corner of his eyes, Itachi caught a movement in trees behind the row of buffet tables. Sasuke emerged from the shadows of the forest, followed closely by a visibly distraught Sakura. His little brother took her by hand and lead her gingerly through the throes of partygoers until they reached the front of the stage. He intertwined their fingers, wholly at ease with the gesture like it was familiar. Like they had done it a hundred times before.

Itachi bit the inside of his cheek.

A pang of jealousy shot at him, but Itachi couldn't find it in him to resent his brother for it. Not truly. Not when he watched Sakura tighten her hold and breathe in deep—one second, two seconds, three. Drawing courage from that small act of amity, she exhaled the burdens weighing down her shoulders.

Regret cut Itachi raw.

"Tonight, my wife and I are honoured to welcome a new member into our family. She is an accomplished young woman, intelligent, ideal, and of excellent upbringing. I have no doubts she would do the Uchiha clan proud. Sakura-san, if you may?" Thunderous claps erupted as the zealous patriarch signalled for the girl to join them.

Haruno Sakura looked every bit the hopeless prisoner Itachi had made her feel. She squeezed Sasuke's hands before she let go, schooling her once crumpled features into the perfection of a delighted highborn lady. She walked towards the elevated platform with a calculated gait, her clever charade easily deceiving the rest of his clan, hyping up their uproarious cheers.

Itachi wished he could believe her too, but he couldn't unsee the despair lodged within the brilliance of her eyes. It was gutting, it was real, and for all his boyish bravado, he felt weak under her gaze.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Haruno Sakura."

Then he spotted it.

It was almost dismissable. If he hadn't been fixated on her encroaching figure, he would have missed it entirely. Right before she placed her heeled foot on the first step of the stairs, her body swayed like she was suddenly overcome with a surge of nausea. She shook it off though, her parlour slightly more sallow.

There was a wince to her stride as she ascended the stage, each one more painful than the last. Sweat pooled on her forehead. Her hand lifted to wipe it off with the heel of her palm, but the limb shook vigorously in its wake.

And then gravity finally took its toll, her knees buckling beneath her.

In the same blink of an eye, Itachi activated his shunshin jutsu, his arms breaking her fall before her head could hit the ground.

AN:- I am back my lovelies!

Contrary to popular belief, I haven't actually forsaken this story of mine. Let's just say that after losing a bunch of my prep work for this story, I got a little sidetracked and, well, frankly I am just horrible at managing my time. Uni student life and writing don't exactly mesh well for me.

Anyways! I hope you enjoyed this chapter five-point-two. I really did put about a year's effort into it.

P.S. what do you think happened to Sakura?