terminal velocity
A slice of life and second chances. 9.81m/s^2 is the rate at which she falls.
Because like gravity, these ties are inescapable, inexorable, and
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"In another time… another place… we could have been great."
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He had the gall to look perturbed – and maybe he was. Maybe he hadn't expected her to pull that last punch. She hadn't expected to either – but that was the funny thing about unconditional devotion.
"I wish…" She trailed off – tried to breathe, and realized she couldn't. The stale half-breath mixed with blood in her lungs would be her last.
She wished for so many things it was hard to pick just one. She wished to laugh again – cry, even, if only once more. She wished to hug Naruto so hard that he would squirm and complain that she was breaking his ribs. She wished she could tug on Ino's ponytail and tell her she was beautiful – tell her she always had been. She wished she could thank Tsunade for teaching her the meaning of true strength.
She wished he had used any attack but chidori –any other attack, she could have healed.
As it were, the tissue had been burnt away, leaving nothing of her innards to mend and repair with that perfect chakra control. A terribly ironic waste, like her life before it.
She felt as if she was falling, and it was the only sensation she had ever known. The synapses fired in her brain, and in retrospect, it was galling, how much of her life had revolved around this boy. These were her last images – and none of them were happy.
"I love you with all my heart!"
"I would do anything for you!"
"Sakura. Thank you."
"I wish… I had never loved you."
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Push stop.
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Fast Forward.
Another time. Another place.
Press play.
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They first met in the sandbox when they were 4 years old. He strode up with all the innocent confidence that only one under half a decade in age could possess and stuck his hand out at her, undoubtedly mimicking the way he had seen his mommy and daddy meet and greet friends before.
"My name is Sasuke," he announced, as if it was some great thing.
"Sakura," she replied, but only because it was the polite thing to do. She did not take his hand though, and he seemed just as puzzled by that as she.
Unabashed, he tried again with an exuberant, "I like building sandcastles. Would you like to build one together?"
When she looked at him, she didn't understand the strange hurtful squeezing in her chest. Later years of experience would pinpoint it as regret, sadness and hurt. At the time, she only knew she didn't like it.
"Ano," she hummed, and stood. "Mum – mum! I want to go home."
Even at 4 tender years of age, she knew she was being rude – but when her lip started to quiver, her mother dutifully opened her arms and let Sakura hide her face in a hug. She pretended she was just shy, and they must have bought it because that was the laughing explanation her mother gave to the beautiful Uchiha matriarch smiling benignly at the scene from the side.
She felt him watching her back, and could only guess at the expression of puzzlement and hurt playing on his face. For some reason, it made her feel strangely satisfied.
The next week, when she met an exuberant young boy with bright yellow hair, loud blue eyes and a mouth to match, she displayed none of the inhibited aversion she had the week before. She started kindergarten and met dozens of other kids just like her – kids whose very presence tugged at her heartstrings and made her feel whole and complete in a familial way she wouldn't come to appreciate until she was much older.
If her mother noticed her singular aversion towards Uchiha Sasuke, she certainly never mentioned it.
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Press stop.
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