Author: MightyMightyMafia PM
SASUSAKU- You could feel her every breath beneath your hands and you marvel at the life throbbing under your calloused palm.Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance/Drama - Sasuke U. & Sakura H. - Words: 624 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 20 - Follows: 3 - Published: 06-04-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4300619
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
DISCLAIMER: DONT OWN IT.
Konoha is gone.
Hard and ripe as the stem of a seedling, or the closed structures surrounding a new bud on an unripe bloom, your cold exterior is more natural than you care to think. Your lack of social graces? Choice. Your attitude? As a part of you and your personal tragedy as the red eyes you use to see the world around you.
In the right light, and with proper nourishment, and fair weather, and maybe a little singing (which goes further than many might assume), you will unfurl your dark, fibrous leaves and soft, white petals to reveal your fleshy insides, pulsing and spongy- sticky with viscous pollen.
How long has it been since you've opened up, bloomed and allowed the sun to bear witness- or pass judgement- as it saw fit?
Konoha is gone.
If you're an unripe blossom, than she is the sun warmed grass. You think of sinking into her, of smelling her, having her surround you on all sides and smiling as you feel her warmth spread through you, and then finally, finally, finally sleeping.
Not dreaming. Sleeping.
Waking up bright eyed in the morning, still hot and moist from her embrace, sitting in bed and watching the sun rise, her quiet mumbles and heavy breath the threnody that narrates the ending chapters of her sleep.
Her pink locks in disarray- slumberous jeweled eyes opening slowly- she wakes.
And then the sun is fully in the sky.
She has strong legs, strong arms and a strong heart. Her muscles- lashed so poetically to her bones beneath that achingly soft surface that is her skin- are rooted to the ground. There is a pulsing life that throbs through her with an urgency that bewilders you. Her passion, her drive, her unerring warmth and her unshakable position as a pillar of support in your life makes your fingers rub your own nearly dormant blood vessels with wonder.
You hope to one day be a part of what makes her who she is.
She's a farmer's daughter. It's seems to make sense.
She's a farmer's daughter. She's growing you, tending to you, loving you, nurturing you like she would anything else in her life.
It's all she knows how to do.
You tuck her in closer to you, arms wrapped snugly around her waist as the two of you lie in a golden field of waving grain. The ground is sunwarmed and the brightness of the afternoon filters through your closed eyelids. You could feel her every breath beneath your hands and you marvel at the life throbbing under your calloused palm.
You eyes open slowly and you gaze up at the limitless blue of the sky.
Her home- your home- lies somewhere on the horizon. It's a house.
Not a village.
A house built for two.
You eye her carefully.
Maybe you should start building for more. She turns to you and smiles.
Konoha is gone.
It wasn't much of a home anyway.
If anyone finds the two of you here, you're as good as dead. You and your (now ex)sensei single handedly wiped out the village hidden in the leaves. Sakura was the bloom that wouldn't wilt in the wreckage.
You lifted her limp body out of the crumbling concrete and shattered wood and bending wire frames- and moved her here. With you.
She doesn't remember that she should hate you.
So she loves you. And cares for you. And you grow.
She's a farmers daughter. It's all she knows how to do.