Disclaimer: I do not claim to own these characters. I reworked and edited some of the phrasings and scenes from the original.
Firsts
by Blue Jeans
Sakura imagined many firsts with Sasuke:
A cool spring day with his hand in hers. The dusty street of their hometown. A bright, white parasol. The cotton dress she'd wear too early, leaving goosebumps down her arms. The warm, safe feeling of being the prettiest girl in town. The heat of his fingers tugging her own as they take their first steps forward, together.
A summer evening in a pretty yukata that compliments her hair and eyes. The first time she will catch him blushing at the sight of her. The heat on his cheeks are visible, even under the dim lantern lights. The breath she catches in her throat when she tugs on his haori sleeve for walking too fast. His eyes turn unexpectedly to meet her own as fireworks explode overhead.
A fall afternoon. Red leaves the same red as the fan on his back. A red bridge over a cold black stream. A black umbrella rattling to the rhythm against the wind, causing him to accidentally bump his elbow against hers. She turns slightly at the contact to feel his breath brush against her cheek and it is the first time he has ever been so close. In the scented grayness, he hums an apology and she feels the vibration of it travel through her, so softly she forgets to exhale. Her heart thunders in her chest, too loudly to go unheard. Afraid to turn her head, she misses the softness in his gaze.
A chilly winter morning. She is delighted at the first snowfall in years. There are not enough to even make one, pathetic snowball. They experiment on gathering puny tufts that collapse immediately, failing to fly any distance as they try to lob it back and forth. Eventually, he settles to more effectively shoving her down to the ground so he could shovel snow down her back as she shrieks with vengeful protests. And even so, she will be the first to still, because it will be the first time she'll hear him laugh.
But it is not Sasuke with whom these firsts occur. Instead, the moments are not always as soft or as fleeting, collecting through the seasons into an unshakeable impression:
A chilly spring morning, cold and grey. The dirt is everywhere. It clings between her exposed toes and smudges itself on her soaked clothes. She's so wet she's numb from the misty rain and unrelenting winds. She's also swearing up a storm as she struggles to cover the small, rare herbs she's planted the year before, wrestling with the cumbersome plastic wrap.
Naruto's hand suddenly descends onto her own frozen fingers, reminding her to take that deep and calming breath that she's been holding in. His hands are surprisingly still warm and her fingers tingle at the heat of them, trying to come back to life.
He looks more amused than she feels he has a right to. His mouth form words of encouragement drowned out by the sound of wind, rain, and the flapping of plastic. His blond hair is darkened and plastered to his equally drenched and dirt-smudged face. His blue eyes appear duller under the cloudy skies. His eyelashes clump together and drip icy rain drops down his cheeks, often blinding him as the wind buffets their faces. It threatens to snatch the plastic from their clutches, but Naruto moves to use his body to partially shield her from the worst of it.
Sakura stares. In that moment, she will forget the blinding rain and the cold in her bones. Instead, it is a feeling she has no name for yet. For the first time a thought that has only ever flitted through her mind blooms into a permanent awareness in her body. It adds something more than gray to their rainy world as she looks up to meet his steady gaze: Naruto is taller, and his warm hands can now engulf her own.
A humid summer afternoon. The heat is unrelenting. Sakura remembers wishing for a cool breeze and not just the ineffectual shade she is hiding under. The sweat on her back makes the cotton shirt cling to her uncomfortably, so every movement is a sin. It is during this immobility that she senses Naruto's approach. He cheerfully calls out to her but it is simply too much effort to turn. She barely manages to grunt a greeting before going back to sulking at the stifling air.
Of course, because of her own slothfulness, she ends up yelping at the cold glass suddenly pressed up against her sweaty neck.
"Watermelon juice," Naruto offers helpfully with a grin while ignoring her baleful glare. Lucky for him, she's too hot and too grateful to do more than yank it out of his hand. After a long sip, Sakura relents with an audible sigh and finally manages to return Naruto's earlier grin.
"Your face is kind of red," she observes, smiling lazily up at him as a pathetically warm breeze rustles the leaves overhead. It offers none of the comfort she wishes for and only manages to disrupt the shadows patterning Naruto's face. Sakura notices how odd he continues to look. It takes another full heartbeat for him to blink out of it and look away. "Did you get a sunburn coming here?" she asks, more curious than concerned.
Naruto answers with a noncommittal shrug.
Sakura scoots over in the shade, feeling generous with her space. She's so contented with his gift she won't even push him to explain his vagueness. At first, he ignores her offered seat, only responding when she raises a brow.
"Perhaps... it's a sunburn," he lies when he finds his voice and grins at her, as if he could distract her with a smile. The moment stretches into the buzz of the cicadas resuming over them. Then, as if defeated by his own awkwardness, he finally plops down a little too hard next to her. The sheepish look lingers after his initial wince and he continues to avoid her gaze. He follows this by rubbing a nervous hand over his stubble and then his mouth, like a man with something to hide.
Sakura blinks at his unusual reticence, at the red on his cheeks that intensifies and diminishes in the silence between them, and for the first time she realizes that Naruto can be shy.
A still warm fall. With her favorite T-shirt on and a dusty parasol slung rakishly over a still tanned shoulder. Sakura wanders the marketplace, eyes searching for treasures. She easily locates the figs freshly picked from the southernmost regions of the Land of Fire. A brown face and weather beaten hands greet her as she picks two baskets with anticipation and glee.
"What are those?" Naruto inquires, appearing out of the blue as the old shopkeeper hands Sakura her bag.
"Figs, Naruto," Sakura answers matter-of-factly, a smirk on her lip. "Don't tell me you've never had one before."
Naruto scrunches his face up, and she knew right then he's never even heard of the fruit. "Who'd want to eat a vegetable that looks like that?" he retaliates, huffing his chest and crossing his arm. He looks away in defiance, missing the sparkle in her eyes for confirming her judgement.
Sakura, on the other hand, is torn between laughing at him and shaking her head in bewilderment. She chooses to walk over to a public fountain instead, setting her parasol aside to dust off one plump fig before giving it a rinse. "It's not a vegetable, Naruto." She corrects him with a lecturing finger, more amused than annoyed as he follows her detour. She takes a bite and smiles with satisfaction, letting the sweet and honeyed taste unravel on her tongue. "See? It's delicious." She assures him with a chewy grin before theatrically swallowing the delicious morsel in her mouth and licking her lips.
Naruto gives her a stubborn and skeptical look in response, unwilling to admit his ignorance. Sakura rolls her eyes at him and reaches into her bag for another. He can't judge it if he doesn't try, she reasons, and is entirely surprised when Naruto chooses that moment to reach over. His fingers loosely grasps her wrist and with a gentle pull he steadies her hold. He smirks at her from under his bangs before taking an exaggerated bite out of her half-eaten fig. He was definitely trying to make a point, but Sakura is frozen. For a moment, she loses all composure and can only stare at Naruto with wide-eyed, breathless shock as he chews.
"I guess it's... OK," Naruto finally concedes, scratching at his whiskers with a familiar pout for having to admit being wrong. It is only then that he notices her unusual stillness. "Uh... Sakura-chan? You okay there?" Naruto asks. He quickly drops her wrist, his body instinctively taking a step back, unsure if an attack is imminent. He is only beginning to realize that he might have done something inappropriate, but he still isn't quite sure of the what or the why.
"I-I can't have this now," Sakura stutters, belatedly yanking her already freed wrist to her chest. It is abrupt but the action and the loudness of her voice is only an echo beneath the rush of blood in her ears. She barely feels the bag of figs hitting her torso due to her sharp reaction. She can only see that her delayed reply rattles Naruto but she ignores his surprised look. It is no comparison to how rattled she already is. To throw him off from focusing on her confusion, she looks around for something to do. Seeing the left-over fig in her hand, she contemplates dropping it on the ground and stomping on the incriminating evidence, but decides instead to shove it back into his mouth as he opens it to ask… something, and sharply turns away to avoid further interrogation.
Sakura power walks home, though it takes all her faculties to not run for the hills. She's too disturbed to lecture him on decorum, the thought is not even a seedling in the chaos of her mind. The figs bump unnoticed against her hip and thigh as Sakura is consumed by the ghost of Naruto's fingers on the pulse of her wrist, his mouth tugging at the fruit in her hand. And no matter how far her feet carries her, she cannot outpace this moment.
When she finally begins to tire, Sakura stops to rest her trembling hands on her trembling knees. Her shaking is still out of her control, and she cannot help but glare at her uncooperative limbs. She presses a shaky hand to her heaving chest, forcefully trying to regulate it and the rebellious organ underneath. It takes long moments for the heated memory of Naruto's teeth and lips against the broken skin of her fig to finally reduce itself to a simmer. It takes long enough for her to feel the heavy weight of the lie she tells herself about her breathlessness, only caused by a hasty retreat and nothing more.
After all, it is the first time she will experience Naruto's touch setting her afire.
A clear, winter evening. Sakura feels content with the ordinary bustle below her and the cool quiet above. The dark, familiar shapes of distant trees and buildings stretch before her. The streetlights of Konoha glitter, warm and gold, brighter than the stars. The smoky smell of the street food could reach her even here, along with the hum of activities and voices.
"Hi Sakura-chan," Naruto's bright voice makes her turn. She greets him with a soft smile when their eyes meet. "What are you doing up here?" he asks as he checks their surroundings before settling down.
"Admiring the night," she tells him. For a long stretch of moments they remain silent, watching the city they love.
Sakura is the one to break the stillness with a sigh. "How do they do it?" she wonders out loud, as she puts her chin to her knees. Her voice is so quiet that Naruto leans in closer to hear.
He follows her gaze to the horizon before shooting her a quizzical look when she doesn't continue. "Uh, what do you mean?" he inquires. He rubs the back of his neck in confusion and apology.
For a long moment, Sakura contemplates not responding. She thinks about melting into the darkness and the safety of silence. Yet, it is Naruto's silence that convinces her to cave, even if only a little.
"When I was very young," Sakura remembers as she tightens her hold to her legs. "I thought it was really romantic how the cowherd and the weaver girl would meet once every year." She lifts and then tilts her head back to the dark expanse, as if she could still locate those summer stars in a winter sky. She can't help but smile a sad and secretive smile. "They had a whole day where everyone celebrated their romance. A testament that even impossible things could become reality if you loved hard enough," Sakura pauses, she both longs for and regrets those naive and foolish hopes. "Now, I wonder how the two survive, year after year, knowing only that for one day they could be together. At the end of that day... they'd have to say goodbye."
Sakura's eyes mist so she does not turn to meet Naruto's quiet gaze. She wishes for the ignorance of not knowing. She wishes to forget what it meant to really miss someone - to spend day after day and year after year wishing for a reunion.
When she was young, Sakura had wanted to be the child of a goddess, one who was elegant and graceful and could weave the most beautiful of cloth. She dreamed of the security assured with such a part. Sakura, like many young girls her age, had thought it would make her brave and deserving. Surely then she would be considered strong and worthy of admiration, confident and untouchable by reproach. She used to imagine the cowherd to be as handsome and capable as Sasuke. In her dreams, she believed that it would be so terribly romantic to be cast in such roles as legends.
Naruto's hand covers hers and brings her back to the present.
"She's worth the wait," he says with the same conviction he's always had. "I think if a guy's lucky enough for the daughter of a goddess to love him, he'd be happy if she was."
For a long moment, Sakura isn't sure what to say or how to act. His words and his tone sounds all too much like a confession. And yet, unlike all the others, Naruto looks vulnerable.
Naruto's hand slips away, taking his warmth with him. He curls in on himself and mirrors her posture. To Sakura, this look doesn't suit him.
When she was a child, Sakura sought love and promises from the stars. She thought it was beautiful hair, confident smiles and dedicated devotion that could make others accept her. Yet, life and Naruto showed her differently. Now, when she found herself bruised on the ground, it was the presence of Naruto's helping hand that pulled her up. When the cold evenings seeped under her skin, it was Naruto's warm back steady against her own.
Slowly, slowly, Sakura began to tentatively trust and hope that if he ran ahead without her, she was finally capable of catching up and beating some sense into him.
Surprising them both, Sakura uncurls her own legs and scoots closer. Her knees bump against his thigh, chasing his warmth and this closeness. She feels his heat radiating off of his body, both soothing and distracting. So distracting that she misses the sound of his breath catching in his throat.
He is always so warm, she observers unhelpfully.
"You're an idiot," she finally whispers, laughing quietly at herself. She is so close that the fog of her words ghosts against his neck, making him shiver. Still, her words fail to break her out of this spell.
She feels more than sees Naruto tense. She can sense immediately that he has misunderstood. He tries to stand but stills when Sakura's fingers dig into the crook of his arm. "Naruto, I..." she starts to correct, turning to meet his wounded expression. His eyes are black and gold in the darkness with no hint of blue. Sakura trails off, unexpectedly losing herself in the memory of their blueness.
"Sakura-chan?" Naruto squirms beneath her gaze, nervous and confused by the intensity of her stare.
Sakura doesn't have a good response, not even in the privacy of her own mind. When Naruto tries to stand again, she could only react. After all, this unpredictability is something she has learned from Naruto's own play book. She catches his hand, tugging the now standing Naruto back with startling force. Her action surprises a "Hey!" out of him as he lands none-too-softly on the roof tiles, cracking and rattling them as he tumbles into her.
"Hey, Naruto, may I?" she asks, vibrating with a building feeling that tingles her fingers like gathering chakra. Her body is rigid with nerves. Her eyes anticipate the shape of his response on his lips.
But Naruto can only stare. His voice is lost so he is forced to give a wordless, disbelieving nod. Sakura looks up to meet his dark eyes, not bothering to exhale. Instead, she grins with sudden mischief as she leans in close.
On a cold winter's eve they share another first.
The end.