DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN IT.
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You wonder vaguely if her hands are wandering or just plain curious as they dance across the table, movements practiced and easy. Her pink hair is just a distraction so you drop the thought, instead focusing your attention on that.
Anything, anything to avoid the blank gaze of her lamp-like green eyes, the limp quality of her eyelids, the slow grace of her blinking.
Her lips are moving but your ears are taking forever to hear the sounds, her soft chirps of laughter and smooth inflections washing over you.
In the end she knows you have trouble listening when you're focused on parts of her anatomy other than her eyes. Her voice is normal, one of a million, blends in easily in a crowd.
You'd never know the owner of that voice was so exotic.
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You see what you think she's seen: the flecks of blood across your face, quiet gush of liquid out of Sasuke's back, Naruto's pale blue eyes turned upward in the middle of the forest. Oblique view of the forest as she tilts her head, listening, silver flash of kunai, jet-stream of panting breaths polluting the soundless air, your lazy hands gripping her hips with seeming indifference, your long digits brushing up her shirt, her warm skin twitching under the coldness of your skin.
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She blows bubbles in her ice tea and you ask for a check, realizing you've been talking with her for an hour; an active but unaware participant in whatever conversation she'd engaged you in.
Fast forward two hours and you're perched outside her window, chest tight and fingers gripping the branch of the tree with focused anxiety. The strap of her shirt slips over her shoulder and you try desperately not egg it on. It already has a mind of its own, slipping further down and revealing the slice of tender flesh next her breast. You have four hours before you're leaving; you never told her, just left a note on her door explaining everything.
You sign it with a quick confession ( "I love you."), and feel it means more on paper than what you've actually been feeling for her. You watch her, eat her, live and breath her, but growing up family-less means growing up in poverty, and somehow or another you reason this as growing up love-less.
How trite, you think, slipping on fingerless gloves and launching yourself from the branch to the ground below.
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The rush of blood to the point of contact on Sasuke's skin is a small victory of your own, and as Sasuke sliced down Sakura's back, you slice down his own bare one and shove the kunai in with a single violent thrust.
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Its all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
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Itachi's hand pressed against her cheek and she sobbed, the ground erupting all round them, limbs frozen and pallid in death reaching up from the earth. He would whisper something in her ear and she would cry out in fear, tremble violently, and the bodies would pull themselves out and-
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You tried to refuse the mission-you're so close to having her all for yourself...
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Itachi straightens up and laughs, asks you and Sasuke why you couldn't recognize her potential. Sakura is going to scream but Itachi strokes a lazy finger down her cheek without looking away from you and Sasuke. One of the things is prostrated at Sakura's feet, its decaying vocal chords rumbling desperate pleas. It's male, its body is bloated. You think it wants to die again. Sakura clings to Itachi as it's hand grips her calf.
You feel sick as the others close around you and Sasuke.
Sasuke thinks he has a good idea when he decides that killing Sakura will help him kill the things-whatever the fuck they are- and then his brother. You kill Sasuke because you think its really BAD idea. Its all fun and games...
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Sakura's warm bed is inviting you to join her and you're a mile outside the city.
You hope the mission goes fast.
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Itachi's hand tilted her head up to look at him as Sasuke plunged the kunai into her back and her eyes widened and glazed over. The things all turned toward Sasuke en masse and began to drag themselves toward him...
Itachi whispered to her in a low voice, but you hear him clearly as you yank Sasuke's rapidly bleeding body back from Sakura.
"They never saw you. I saw you first, you were mine first. If I die, you'll still belong to me."
Sakura coughed a little, blood slipping out from between her lips. The things groaned and moved more quickly, sensing their master's rising anxiety.
Itachi is dead before he hits the ground, his eyes watching Sakura the whole time. As his life flickers out, the things fall back to the ground, crawl back into their respective holes, alternately indolent and adoring eyes watching Sakura the whole time.
You scoop her into your arms.
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Four days later you return. She's waiting for you at the gate. The air around her is cold and uneasy- it always has been since Itachi unlocked her hidden ability. It was like the dead followed her around, constantly awaiting her call.
All the same she is the picture of soft beauty and you make her yours, finally.
Itachi was wrong. You were her first, her only. He had only been an interruption.