WARNING(S): Mentions of war and death
A/N: I love writing these two as opposites-attract deities. Or opposites-attract anything, really.
The earth was still so young in her eyes.
He saw the fondness whenever she spoke of its denizens, the motherly glow imbued in her being and in the way she treated her chosen, bearers of the pale mark of her brow.
Goddess of the spring and the matron of healing, she was practically his opposite in every way. His domain was that of fire, of blood, and passion, and battle; not something he would want humans to follow, yet every passing year brought more and more violence and bloodshed to their little Earth. Their children were less interested in peace and focused on war, and it was hard to look her in the eyes every time one more of her beloved creations perished.
The earthly name she chose for herself was Sakura, based off of the delicate pink blossoms she adored so much. It suited her, he thought; despite the fleeting nature they held, they were awe-inspiring and beautiful.
Life was a fickle, effervescent thing; he knew it well. He'd seen many live and die in his lifetime, and he would be lying had he said it didn't still affect him in some way. There had been many humans he had favored; humans with potential, humans who could have become great. Despite the rising and waning of the tides of life, still they remained: the Ancient, what some humans perceived to have created life itself, what others called gods.
Despite their centuries watching over their little planet, they aged not. Despite their conflicting natures, they fought not. Each had earned the other's respect, however begrudging it might have been before, and both were dedicated to their duties.
Sakura sat in her favorite flower glen, knitting together her latest masterpiece; she called it Tsubaki, after a striking young woman with red hair she had met along the forest path, a young woman who had politely asked her help in returning to her village. Its vibrant red color, she had said, reminded her of him - indeed, it was red as the blood shed by his most passionate generals, red as the faces of lovers engaged in courtship, red as the evening sky with its brilliant reds and oranges and yellows.
She had given it to him, one of her most cherished blooms, and it adorned his breast over his heart. If she knew what it meant, she never said a word.
In their "youth", she had teased him once - called him Sasuke, because he was her helper. He had scowled and pouted then, but something about the way she'd said it felt so light, so sweet - he was only known as Sasuke on her tongue, and he called her Sakura, for the dainty flowers that shared her likeness.
Eons passed for them - humans came and went, nameless faces in an ocean of life - the words of their mother tongue were lost to them, the names of the Ancients that shepherded their lives. Humanity developed its own languages, writing, pantheon; still the beings called Sasuke and Sakura remained, devoted to their vows to this little planet they created.
Eons more would pass before their little planet passed on. Until that age came, Sakura was content to sit in her little flower glen, and Sasuke was content to pass away the days with her, listening to her hum and watching her delicate hands create life.
Sakura smiled gently up at him, holding up her new flower. "Himawari," she said in the human tongue, and its cheerful blossom shone towards the sky. A summer flower, no doubt, and the thought made his heart skip a beat.
He took the small flower gingerly in his hand, took in its vibrant petals, and tucked it into her hair.