Folded Papers
Fandom: Naruto
Title: Folded Papers
Pairing: Sasuke Uchiha/Sakura Haruno
Rating: M. Varies with each drabble.
Genre: Romance/Angst/Drama/General
Warning: This is rated M for a reason. Not all drabbles will contain explicit content but reader discretion is advised. A few may contain character death.
Notes: White roses mean innocence, silence and devotion. I also took a few liberties with Chiyo's life transfer jutsu - the mechanics have been left intentionally vague.
1. Love
What they have between them may be termed as ambiguous at best, from an outsider's point of view. In their case, there is a startling, though not unexpected, lack of absence of the usual signs that indicate whether two people are intimately involved. Sasuke does not give Sakura the small, flattering trinkets that are customary for any Uchiha male courting a respectable lady. Savage jealousy does not bubble up like molten lava within a tempestuous volcano when she smiles at another male. He does not bother to compliment her on her strength or beauty because he does not know how.
But the signs are there.
Ino sighs in exasperation when Sasuke lingers hesitantly outside the flower shop, trying to look decidedly uninterested in the bouquet of simple white roses on display, before pride kicks in and he walks off to the direction of the training fields, although, not without a second glance at the innocent white petals.
Kakashi merely smiles when Sasuke comes to him for advice and then promptly leaves after their rather... enlightening conversation, but not before adding a thinly veiled threat - "We never had this conversation." - which would have sounded rather impressive had it not been for his burning face.
Naruto simply shakes his head in utter hopelessness and mutters a very low "He's smitten," when Sasuke, who he has dragged to the store, absentmindedly comments, "Rubies and emeralds look good together," as they look through the wedding rings for Naruto's engagement to Hinata.
Tsunade leaves the Uchiha to what he's been doing all day - simply staring at Sakura's prone form on the hospital bed - and does not ask him to leave when visiting hours are over, because she knows that Uchiha, being the stubborn, disrespectful brat he is, will simply spare a second to glare at her, or worse, ignore her completely, before resuming the scrutiny of her apprentice's pale, pale face for a sign of returning consciousness.
Sakura looks at him, expression openly soft. Sasuke can't bring himself to look at her. He sits by her bedside, holding a tray of apples that he's peeled himself. He does not meet her eyes, instead, stares intently at the cherry blossom branches peeking outside the window, and tries very hard not to shift awkwardly. He looks every bit the awkward, emotionally stunted teenage boy he is under that cold exterior, and Sakura's eyes soften.
"I--" he starts to speak and falters. Instead of saying what he was about to, he tears his gaze away from the window and changes his response, awkwardly mumbling, "I cut you some apples." And almost hesitantly, as if worried about broaching a memory of the past, he holds them out to her and adds, "Here."
Silence is his answer and Sasuke tries to pretend indifference. Just as he is about to slip into his insouciant facade, a small, deceptively delicate yet rough hand covers his own. She accepts the tray of heart-shaped slices and the touch of her skilled hands linger like the warmth of a lover's embrace after she lets go. His breath catches when she smiles that smile she reserves only for him and says, softly, "Thank you."
Theirs is a love that speaks of unspoken words of devotion, small words of gratitude and a tray of sliced apples.
2. Lust -
'Nobody has to know...'
Soft, and tempting, the thought thundered in his mind like the tempest howling outside his window. Tiny projectiles of rainwater hammered the misted glass, and the windowpanes rattled like creaking bones chilled by the onslaught of the deluge. Sasuke stared at the ceiling, those four seductively persuasive words numbing his ears, and without conscious thought, a pale, unsure hand slid tentatively, under the hem of his loose shirt and touched the flat planes of his stomach. And Sasuke shuddered at the prospect of pleasure coiling in the pit of his stomach, biting down hard his lower lip in an attempt to stifle a surprised gasp.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and concentrated where his fingers lay on his belly. He really shouldn't be doing this, it was so wrong, but... One pale finger slid down his stomach, tracing the slight line of down from his navel and Sasuke imagined it was a slimmer yet coarser finger - her hands had never been smooth, at least, not since she had mastered her strength - that were travelling down his stomach. He shouldn't be thinking like this. To think of Sakura like this, it was just so wrong and vulgar on so many levels yet... this would be the last time, he lied obligingly to himself. He had always been good at that. Just for tonight, and never again; besides, that sly little voice whispered again, nobody has to know...
And when he had justified his actions, deceived himself enough, he slid his calloused palm under the waistband of his pants and against his cock. The low shuddering gasp, the tortured hiss that escaped his lips took him by surprise - again, even after all these years, all those restless nights. A finger traced the sensitive vein on the underside of the bulging animal in his hand, from base to tip; sharp, hissed curses tore themselves through clenched teeth with each jerk of his arm. His eyes were unseeing now, despite the glint of sinful red in them, the ceiling merely a blob of dappled gray mass across his vision as he gripped that straining piece of muscle, throbbing and alive, and stroked himself to painful hardness. He could already feel a smear of salty fluid in the middle of his palm, and it felt so--
'Fuck.'
His other hand worked on the zipper of his pants, fumbling in haste, and pulled down the front, exposing his slick, straining cock. He grunted, moaned and panted, hips jerking wildly to a savage rhythm, and for a moment, he hated himself for losing control like this. For needing this - needing her - when he had promised himself that he would need nothing else after achieving his one single goal. But he couldn't stop dammit; he couldn't put an end to this sordid secret or stop the sick, sick fantasies . Fantasies which took root from sleepless nights in Sound. In an attempt to block out the screams - like the howls of a chimera writhing in agony - that bounced off the walls of the hideouts and echoed and swirled and demented his head - no matter how hard he pressed his pillows against his ears and pretended they didn't exist.
He dreamed of her often in Sound - of doing unspeakable things to her. Of her doing unspeakable things to him. Especially when thoughts of revenge, which he conjured up as the blood-curling screams continued, seemed nothing more than a fleeting fancy.
Every time he pleasured himself while lying back on the old, rickety bed of those reptilian dungeons, he hated himself. A little bit more each time. Until that self-resentment became as indelible as ink in an artist's life. He channelled that hate into his frantic fingers and almost immediately, a yell of carnal bliss emitted from his throat and he rubbed, and jerked, feeling the tension tightening up in his balls. Encased his fist, his shaft felt hard, and alive, and warm and yes... but never enough.
He squeezed his eyes shut and panted hungrily for air - nobody has to know, nobody has to know!, his mind chanted - as he imagined his shaft buried in another kind of warmth, more intense and searing, as he thrust in between her lean, parted legs, dominated her, possessed her and fucked her rough and deep and--
And everything exploded in array of green and pink and white as thick fluid stained his hand. There was a moment of lucidity in which his senses heightened - he could feel the colours flashing before his vision, could hear the lonely cricket chirping outside, feel the relief that pervaded his body - and he focused on nothing but that swirling pinwheel of pleasure. He could feel every cell in his body scream out for her... or maybe, it was he who was screaming. He didn't know, and neither did he care because in the next moment, his hips buckled and the corded muscles in his legs quivered from exhaustion, as the last shudders of pleasure rippled through him.
This was the last time. No one would ever know, he convinced - consoled - himself with the thought. Yet...
He knew he would rot in hell for this but if this was a sin, he was willing to be a sinner.
7. Loss -
And it felt like a badly scripted horror movie. A genjutsu in which you watch with your own eyes as your loved ones are hacked brutally from limb to limb and you can do nothing but scream. And soon that genjutsu turns into a vicious nightmare which you glide through like a spectre, and try as you might, your ghastly fingers slip right through the murderer's heart each time you try to rip it out. A nightmare in which the expanse of your subconscious was glazed with blotches of ominous red that blurred your previously clear vision - like mist staining the view outside closed windows. Or maybe, it was just her tears that were blurring her vision. Maybe. Yes, Sakura decided amidst paroxysms of hysterical screams in her mind, that was it. She was crying.
Tears were tumbling down her cheeks like the frantic thoughts in her mind. She probably looked very pathetic right now. But she didn't care damn it - Naruto was dead (No, that hysterical voice screamed inside her head. Naruto was supposed to be strong and reliable and invincible, dammit! He wasn't allowed to die, and he-- Sakura's shaky exhale ended in a pathetic, pitiful sob) His heart had stopped beating for a while now (Denial raged a bloody war in her mind - he wasn't dead! he wasn't dead! he wasn't-!) and she tried and tried to pump chakra (that wasn't there) into his chest and her hands were trembling, shaking like a leaf in the wind and that stupid seal on her forehead was so fucking useless now. She was so fucking useless - always so usele--
"He-- he isn't waking up, Sasuke... Why isn't he waking up?!" Sakura asked the man sitting so very still beside her, her voice scratchy from crying so much, and received no answer. Sasuke seemed to have gone into shock, as he sat numb, wide-eyed and uncomprehending at the sight of the red, red blood splashed - almost artistically, in a tragic sort of way - like Christmas decoration over Naruto's chest. Where there was a gaping stab wound where his heart should be. Or maybe, it was just his vision - and not Naruto's shirt - that was red; he strongly hoped it was - yes, that was it. Overtaxing the Mangekyou had left blood pouring down his cheeks like silent tears - or maybe he had somehow trapped himself in the world of the red moon - maybe, that was why-- Sakura's hysterical shriek pierced through the comforting lies he tried to deceive himself with.
"Wake up, dammit! Naruto!" She wanted to shake him so, so badly - just to get a response out of him, a stir, a mumble - anything except that tragically peaceful and at the same time, vacant expression on his face. "You- you can't leave us here!" Sakura screamed at the unresponsive, pallid corpse beneath her hands that were shaking oh-so-badly, fingers burnt at the tips and palm raw and rough and bleeding from straining to summon chakra that had long abandoned her. Like Naruto was going to if she wasn't able to perform the life transfer jutsu soon.
Panic rose in her chest like pervading, poisonous wisps of smoke and choked her. "I-I don't have enough chakra! I-I--"
"Use mine."
She whipped around to look at Sasuke, but he wasn't looking at her - he was staring (unseeingly) far off into the distance, and there was this strange serenity about his countenance - a calm acceptance - that she seldom saw.
Sakura's eyes widened with shock as the implications of his quiet words hit her like a deluge of bricks. "Sasuke..." she whispered disbelievingly. "You - you barely have enough yourself! It'll kill y--"
"What you're not saying is it'll kill you too," Sasuke pointed out, quietly, accusingly.
"I don't fucking care if it--"
"Neither do I."
There was a tense silence in the air as they glared at each other through blurry vision. Finally, Sakura exhaled slowly, as if she had just made a decision, and looked away.
"Fine," she mumbled, "If we're going to do this, then... I just want you to know that -" her voice cracked, "I wish there was some way I could save you both. And -and I-"
The light touch of long fingers against her dry lips stopped what she was about to say, and Sakura almost reeled back in shock. Sasuke didn't let her - he cupped her face, and brought it closer, the feel of his rough hands against her softer skin was so unfamiliar, yet so right. He could almost make out her face now through the dark patches that were splattered over his vision like ink. She wasn't looking at him - she couldn't look at him - and he took the opportunity to study her face up close. A callused thumb flicked over her cheek and wiped away smudges of dirt almost lover-like, mindful the numerous cuts that had taken up residence there. When she slowly turned to look at him. Sasuke's face was unreadable.
"Don't," Don't make this harder than it is, don't blame yourself, he did not say but she heard him anyway. "You're only being annoying," he said instead and the words made her want to cry all over again - Sasuke was so kind in such strange ways.
By then his fingers had already wiped away the remnants of her grief and wandered to the middle of her forehead, to the green, diamond-shaped seal that was faded (useless) and cracked through the top. She allowed herself to close her eyes and relish his touch one last time, before his hand fell away - almost hesitantly - and her professional demeanor slipped into place.
He let him take his bloodied hand into her own, which was almost as scarred as his, and they exchanged one last look with their hands linked - a look that conveyed that death would be a small price to pay if it meant that Naruto would live - simply because he was Naruto and that was reason enough - before placing their hands gently on Naruto's chest.
Giving away chakra, it was a strange sensation, Sasuke thought - he could hear his blood rushing in his ears like a wayward, indomitable stream. What minute amount of residual chakra he had left was being squeezed out his his chakra network bit by bit. It wasn't unsettling or uncomfortable - just strange; it probably would have been calming, if not pleasant, if he had been in better condition. As it was now, he was feeling lightheaded, as if thoughts were evaporating from his mind like smoke, and the temptation of closing his almost blind eyes was strong...
"Sasuke..!" Sakura gasped and struggled to maintain the sharp control required for the life transfer as the chakra flow was disrupted, and Sasuke instantly opened his eyes and squinted through blood-dappled vision, concentrating on his chakra flow. He knew that he'd probably die from chakra exhaustion - his entire body was shaking as the warmth left him, yet he felt strangely content. The cold wasn't intrusive - it didn't chill him, but rather diffused into his bloodstream like essence of mint. It was peaceful - welcome, even. He could only imagine what it must be like for Sakura - his chakra was required to activate and direct the outflow of her life energy, and he wondered if she felt as numb as he did as her life drained out of her. The thought made him sick - twisted like a knife in his gut. But he didn't have time to ponder on it for long as a sudden pain gripped him - his chakra wasn't being squeezed out of him anymore. It was being churned, sucked out until his bones hurt and were left raw and trembling.
Suddenly, the pale green glow of Sakura's hands faded and she collapsed against him unceremoniously, gasping for air, willing her lungs to breathe, breathe, breathe. Every last breath she drew was an arduous task - and her lungs felt like a cushion for pinpricks of agony. It hurt Sasuke to hear her breathe and unable to support her weight any longer, he fell collapsed in a bloody heap of broken bones - like crumpled autumn leaves - over Naruto's body, and listened to his slowly accelerating heartbeat until it simmered into a constant rhythm.
"We did it," she whispered weakly, already feeling her life trickling out of her. Her voice was so frail and so small that Sasuke wouldn't have heard her had he not been paying attention to pallor of her rapidly whitening skin.
"Yeah..." he whispered back, and in an attempt to see her face one last time, embed it into his memory without using the Sharingan, he gently, with fumbling fingers, brushed away some coarse rosette locks which had haphazardly fallen over her face.
Perhaps it was delirium, or perhaps she was too tired to be shocked, but at the gesture Sakura smiled at him, and felt as if she had, all at once, gained and lost the memory of something beautiful. Because, for the first and last time, Sasuke smiled back.
End notes: I'm sorry for disappearing for over two weeks, but I have returned at last! ...With this utterly pitiful attempt at drabbles. Did I mention I can never keep anything short?
Anyway, this was done as a challenge for 20paperplanes, based on the Emotions set. Originally came across this community via
alternatejess and decided to do SasuSaku. Because, while writing SasuNaru and NaruSaku (comparatively) easy for me, I have severe problems with SasuSaku, and thus, you can say this is a sort of practise. I haven't written anything in a while (except maybe, a few NaruSaku oneshots that I'm wondering whether to post. The latest manga really has me all grumpy!). SO I'm a bit... rusty. Actually, I'm so rusty that it hurts to look at the drabbles - they're so not... okay? Urgh. If you find any mistakes, please tell me.
Which of the three/four following emotions should I write next? -- Content, Rage, Hot, Cold, Bond, Depression.
Also, I was searching for this Romance genre fic on fanfiction.net that I read a long time ago. I think the secondary genre was humor. Basically Sakura meets up with Sasuke in a bar, by a stroke of luck, and they talk over sake - eventually it leads to sex. But, it's not cliche. At all. The English is amazing, characterization perfect and it was around 5-7 chapters that I last read it. The way it's written has crack stamped over it - the author did an amazing job with taking a cliche concept and turning it into something original. Oh, and Sakura, uh, 'deflowers' Sasuke. XD Crack, remember? So, does that ring a bell? I'm desperate!