It was not a custom in Fire Country to wear white on one's wedding day, but Sakura insisted.
"You've seen enough red already, Sasuke-kun," she said. "There are places in the world where they wear white when they marry and black when they mourn. Red doesn't come into the picture at all." She put her arms around him and pulled him close. "I like that."
Sasuke knew his life was a broken thing full of shattered glass and snapped strings and blood everywhere, and that he would never fix everything that was wrong with it. Once, he had dreamed that if he could simply stop the beating of his brother's heart, the flow of the blood through his veins, the genjutsu he had laid on the world would vanish, and everything would be back to normal again.
He knew better now. Naruto had beaten the truth into him, and Sakura held it in place with her gentle hands. Destroying himself in order to kill Itachi would solve nothing. Even if sometimes, in the dark, he still felt the urge creep up on him--but he put it aside. The life he had now was too good to waste like that.
He would not give up the way Sakura felt in his arms as she reminded him of his humanity, or the way her lips felt on his when she showed him what love felt like.
"Some people," he told her, "would say that it's bad luck. To wear white of all colors today of all days."
She smiled, and as always when she smiled, she was beautiful. "We both know better than to let superstition rule us."
He kissed her to show his agreement.
They were to hold the ceremony beneath the canopy of two old trees. When Sasuke approached the place, Sakura was already there, standing beneath the leaves, the sunlight that poured through them dappling the white of her dress with green.
He was close enough to see the warmth of her spring-green eyes when he heard footsteps behind him. He started to turn, but the newcomer was already speaking.
"I'm disappointed in you."
By the time he turned to look at this new arrival, the strange man had flashed ahead of him, up to Sakura. Sasuke spun around again, something deep in his psyche identifying the voice before his conscious mind had put a name to it. By then it was too late. Itachi had one arm wrapped gently around Sakura's waist, his hand resting between her breasts.
"Sasuke-kun--I'm sorry--" A hand laid softly but firmly over her mouth stopped her. Her eyes narrowed with fear, but anger as well. He wasn't sure if the anger was at his brother or himself.
"I'm disappointed," Itachi said calmly, "and a little surprised. I would think you'd remember to invite those with whom you share blood to your own wedding."
He had a kunai in his free hand, and he moved it very fast.
"I think next time you'll remember."
Then he was gone.
Sasuke knew there was a world beyond him and the white-clad body in front of him, and he knew its inhabitants were moving, trying to follow Itachi, trying to reach for him. But they no longer mattered.
He knelt by Sakura's side. The light in her eyes was already fading, replaced by the brightness of the blood on her dress.
In the end, she had worn red after all.