[Fic] "What is Possible"
Title: What is Possible
Author: a_lifestyle
Fandom: Naruto (KakashixSakura)
Rating: PG (A little angsty.)
Words: 1,148
Summary:
A/N: I have never written/edited so fast in my life. So, if there are any errors, I promise I will get to them when I'm not scrambling to post this sucker. I'm so late!
...again! D:
Written for the kakasaku word challenge #4: Stroke of Midnight. A weird mix of stuff I like to write. Enjoy! And, go vote in the contest! There are a RIDICULOUS AMOUNT of good entries. What a nice way to start the new year. :D
What is Possible
The war is coming to a close, and it is evident that they are not the victors.
Kakashi looks out over the land that used to be Konoha, covered in the blood of his comrades. He has seen it all before, and is considering if he wants to see the end. Looking up, he sees the moon, an inverted pupil, white in night's open eye. The stars, like flecks of bone against the darkness, would be quite beautiful if the air didn’t smell of death and if his view wasn’t obstructed by smoke from the fires that engulf more than half his village.
His bones are tired of the fighting. In years past, he remembers drinking to a new year and a new beginning, whatever that meant. He remembers a sense of renewal. All he knows now is that the flames have replaced the fireworks, and that he may not live to see the new year, but the woman who kneels beside him, hands shaking over his injuries, deserves something better.
“Do you think we will find the others?” Sakura asks. He puts his hand on her shoulder and lets it drop to the ground. He doesn’t answer; they understand that questions are simply the fear of what they already know.
“Just stay still, Kakashi,” she says, her voice cracking, words slurred with fear. Her hands can heal anything, but they cannot fix the landscape that has become a graveyard. Her pink hair is tied back, tight, the bruise across her face an ugly yellow-purple.
“I can manage,” he spits through gritted teeth. The pain in his leg is nothing in comparison to the way she looks at him now.
They have debated death and philosophy until their lips settled into murmurs. They have jumped, ungrateful for their lack of wings, and still, they cannot fly. Their resolve is cracked and broken, but it still remains, the pulse soft and barely audible. They have made a promise to their country that gets them back on their feet. They have made a promise to each other that gives their feet direction.
“Please, Kakashi,” she whispers. She is strong, and her hand cradles his face. “Just stay still.”
She kneels beside him. Her brow furrows, and sweat beads at her hairline as she focuses, the pain swelling then fading. Kakashi’s leg twitches, and it’s not over for him yet.
She offers a painful smile. “Legs are given to those who have miles left to walk.”
“I’ve gone through about twenty legs in my lifetime,” he sighed. “My mileage may be up.”
He raises his torso using his elbows, the crack of his joints singing a story of the years his heart has beat strongly for a reason to live. He realizes, as she rests her hand on his thigh and looks at him through blood-caked bangs, that his reason is right in front of him.
Like a young plant, just sprouted and growing strong, she is not ripe enough to die.
She’s not.
“I’m not ready for this,” she says, echoing his thoughts. She looks off into the blood-red horizon. She doesn’t want him to see her cry.
“Sakura,” he says, reaching out to her. His muscles are screaming along with his head as he pulls her to him, clumsily pressing their lips together. But, she is always quick to adapt. She closes her eyes and moisture streaks her cheek. She tastes like metal and salt. The moment is golden and time stops to give them a peace that is pure.
He breaks away and opens his eyes. He is surprised to find that they are both smiling, wider than ever. The ghost of them loving each other has always been out of focus; they stand together now, no longer envious of that lens. Kakashi now sees with unbranded sight and clarity.
“I’ve been ready for that for years,” Sakura says. “What the hell took you so long?”
“Admittedly, I was going to wait until midnight,” Kakashi said. “But, once every few years, I like to be early.”
An explosion makes them turn their heads. They see the shadows of their enemies encapsulating their village, their home, in darkness. Standing like towers of light against a backdrop of loss, they resolve to see their future with a squeeze of their hands. He turns to her then, most likely the youngest, the closest to the ground, yet the only one not buried alive. Her fear has been replaced with purpose.
“When we return,” she says to him. “I expect a lot more of that.”
“Among other things,” he adds, adjusting his headband into place and equipping his holster.
“And, don’t think I’m easy or anything like that,” Sakura continues. “There are going to be dates involved. Dates that you’ll pay for.” She zips up her jounin vest, assuring her pockets are equipped and ready for combat.
“No argument here.” He taps the toes of his sandals against the ground, the dirt kicking up and swirling around them. “I’ll be sure to let Yamato know that in addition to rebuilding government offices and hospitals and bridges, that bars and fine dining establishments are also crucial to Konoha’s reconstruction.”
“And I’ll let Ino know what kind of flowers I’m in the mood for the day you go pick them up to bring to me before our dates,” Sakura says, slinging her med pack across her back.
They both know that the only signs of life within their village are the birds that fold into the distance like origami. But, it is close to midnight, and in their hearts they believe that if they can survive to see the new year, if they can somehow, against all odds, keep each other alive, they will begin anew.
“I don’t need to tell you that the chances of our survival are slim,” he says casually, taking her hand.
Sakura smirks, and grabs hold. “The laws of science and chance are less than us.”
He takes one last look at her; her eyes are busy calculating their future. He is invincible.
They nod once to each other, and as midnight strikes, they leap into the seemingly impossible, into the new year.
-end-
Author: a_lifestyle
Fandom: Naruto (KakashixSakura)
Rating: PG (A little angsty.)
Words: 1,148
Summary:
A/N: I have never written/edited so fast in my life. So, if there are any errors, I promise I will get to them when I'm not scrambling to post this sucker. I'm so late!
...again! D:
Written for the kakasaku word challenge #4: Stroke of Midnight. A weird mix of stuff I like to write. Enjoy! And, go vote in the contest! There are a RIDICULOUS AMOUNT of good entries. What a nice way to start the new year. :D
What is Possible
The war is coming to a close, and it is evident that they are not the victors.
Kakashi looks out over the land that used to be Konoha, covered in the blood of his comrades. He has seen it all before, and is considering if he wants to see the end. Looking up, he sees the moon, an inverted pupil, white in night's open eye. The stars, like flecks of bone against the darkness, would be quite beautiful if the air didn’t smell of death and if his view wasn’t obstructed by smoke from the fires that engulf more than half his village.
His bones are tired of the fighting. In years past, he remembers drinking to a new year and a new beginning, whatever that meant. He remembers a sense of renewal. All he knows now is that the flames have replaced the fireworks, and that he may not live to see the new year, but the woman who kneels beside him, hands shaking over his injuries, deserves something better.
“Do you think we will find the others?” Sakura asks. He puts his hand on her shoulder and lets it drop to the ground. He doesn’t answer; they understand that questions are simply the fear of what they already know.
“Just stay still, Kakashi,” she says, her voice cracking, words slurred with fear. Her hands can heal anything, but they cannot fix the landscape that has become a graveyard. Her pink hair is tied back, tight, the bruise across her face an ugly yellow-purple.
“I can manage,” he spits through gritted teeth. The pain in his leg is nothing in comparison to the way she looks at him now.
They have debated death and philosophy until their lips settled into murmurs. They have jumped, ungrateful for their lack of wings, and still, they cannot fly. Their resolve is cracked and broken, but it still remains, the pulse soft and barely audible. They have made a promise to their country that gets them back on their feet. They have made a promise to each other that gives their feet direction.
“Please, Kakashi,” she whispers. She is strong, and her hand cradles his face. “Just stay still.”
She kneels beside him. Her brow furrows, and sweat beads at her hairline as she focuses, the pain swelling then fading. Kakashi’s leg twitches, and it’s not over for him yet.
She offers a painful smile. “Legs are given to those who have miles left to walk.”
“I’ve gone through about twenty legs in my lifetime,” he sighed. “My mileage may be up.”
He raises his torso using his elbows, the crack of his joints singing a story of the years his heart has beat strongly for a reason to live. He realizes, as she rests her hand on his thigh and looks at him through blood-caked bangs, that his reason is right in front of him.
Like a young plant, just sprouted and growing strong, she is not ripe enough to die.
She’s not.
“I’m not ready for this,” she says, echoing his thoughts. She looks off into the blood-red horizon. She doesn’t want him to see her cry.
“Sakura,” he says, reaching out to her. His muscles are screaming along with his head as he pulls her to him, clumsily pressing their lips together. But, she is always quick to adapt. She closes her eyes and moisture streaks her cheek. She tastes like metal and salt. The moment is golden and time stops to give them a peace that is pure.
He breaks away and opens his eyes. He is surprised to find that they are both smiling, wider than ever. The ghost of them loving each other has always been out of focus; they stand together now, no longer envious of that lens. Kakashi now sees with unbranded sight and clarity.
“I’ve been ready for that for years,” Sakura says. “What the hell took you so long?”
“Admittedly, I was going to wait until midnight,” Kakashi said. “But, once every few years, I like to be early.”
An explosion makes them turn their heads. They see the shadows of their enemies encapsulating their village, their home, in darkness. Standing like towers of light against a backdrop of loss, they resolve to see their future with a squeeze of their hands. He turns to her then, most likely the youngest, the closest to the ground, yet the only one not buried alive. Her fear has been replaced with purpose.
“When we return,” she says to him. “I expect a lot more of that.”
“Among other things,” he adds, adjusting his headband into place and equipping his holster.
“And, don’t think I’m easy or anything like that,” Sakura continues. “There are going to be dates involved. Dates that you’ll pay for.” She zips up her jounin vest, assuring her pockets are equipped and ready for combat.
“No argument here.” He taps the toes of his sandals against the ground, the dirt kicking up and swirling around them. “I’ll be sure to let Yamato know that in addition to rebuilding government offices and hospitals and bridges, that bars and fine dining establishments are also crucial to Konoha’s reconstruction.”
“And I’ll let Ino know what kind of flowers I’m in the mood for the day you go pick them up to bring to me before our dates,” Sakura says, slinging her med pack across her back.
They both know that the only signs of life within their village are the birds that fold into the distance like origami. But, it is close to midnight, and in their hearts they believe that if they can survive to see the new year, if they can somehow, against all odds, keep each other alive, they will begin anew.
“I don’t need to tell you that the chances of our survival are slim,” he says casually, taking her hand.
Sakura smirks, and grabs hold. “The laws of science and chance are less than us.”
He takes one last look at her; her eyes are busy calculating their future. He is invincible.
They nod once to each other, and as midnight strikes, they leap into the seemingly impossible, into the new year.
-end-