Ino and Sakura
It's a bit depressing, but it was the first thing I could think of.
For Keryn, 'cause she asked.
-----
It had been bad burying Lee. It had been worse burying shishou. But the worst thing of all, was coming home only to find that she had no home. Picking through the wreakage of what had once been her apartment building, Sakura managed to recover her old Team 7 photo. It was the last thing she had to remind her of her sensei. It was the only thing she had that was before Team 7 fell apart, irrepairable. A piece of red ribbon was pinned under a part of a broken wall, and Sakura clutched it like a lifeline, tying it around her wrist so she wouldn't lose it. A teddy bear she'd had since she was small, and a cup that had somehow survived the collapse of the building. She could've laughed, it was one that Naruto always seemed to use when he came over.
She managed to recover a few other things, stuffing them all in a rucksack before setting off to find someplace--anyplace--that wouldn't be as painful as her parent's place. Or shishou's. Or Shizune-neechan's.
She could've been surprised when she found herself outside of Ino's door, but she wasn't. She could've cried at the way Ino looked so thin and the way her eyes just didn't glow like they usually did, but she managed not to. She could only offer a weak smile and an offhand shrug.
"Hey pig, got any room for one more?" She could've winced at the way her voice seemed to crack, but she was too tired. Ino cocked her head and glared, or rather, pretended to glare, blocking the doorway as she leaned into Sakura's face.
"You better be glad I like you Forehead, otherwise I'd say no. Get your ass in here and stop moping in my doorway. You owe me for this, you know." A finger wagged in front of her nose, and Sakura was almost saddened to see it wasn't perfectly manicured like it should have been. She set her stuff down inside the door and smiled tiredly.
"I know."
Sakura made some of her mother's best pastries to make up for it, carefully hand-shaping the mochi, taking time to sculpt the silly little flower petals and other fancy decorations into the sweets, powdering them lightly so they wouldn't stick. She had to borrow some of Ino's clothes because all of hers were gone, and they curled up on the wonderfully clean couch with their treats, not talking about how things had been or how things used to be. They didn't talk about the friends they'd both lost. They worked their way through the mochi and a small pint of ice cream, Sakura trying not to cry and Ino being unusually snappish, but, as selfish as it might have been, Sakura was glad.
Because if nothing else, they still had each other, and that was something. It wasn't until much later, after half the sweets in the house had been exhausted and the cool of night was well underway that Sakura finally broke down. Ino had been in her room when the tears had started, but suddenly she was there, pulling Sakura into a warm embrace. It was safe, but even if it was Ino, this moment would never be shared with anyone. No one would hear about how much Sakura had cried and sobbed and nearly screamed in emotional agony as Ino held her, smoothed her hair and rocked her. Sakura took both their pain into herself and expelled it all at once in a fit of passionate sorrow.
Too wrapped up in her own tears, Sakura hardly noticed when Ino started to cry, but it didn't matter. They were together, no matter what had happened, they were together, they had lost so much together, but they were best friends. That was something no one could take away from them, because no matter what happened, they would still be best friends, and best friends helped clean up the pieces when everything went to hell around them.
When Sakura finally beat back the last of her exhausted sniffles, there were no quips about her being a baby. There was just a familiar hand that helped pull her off the floor where she'd collapsed, and helped her to the bathroom. They washed their faces, shared a towel as they dried their faces and hands before sharing a hug. The teddy bear that Sakura had rescued from the rubble was pulled out, and the dust beaten off of it outside. The morning found two exhausted girls curled on the bed, their hands clasped tightly in their sleep, and a lost teddy bear kicked to the floor.
It wasn't much, but they still had each other, and in a way, that's all they'd need. It was, at least, a start.
For Keryn, 'cause she asked.
-----
It had been bad burying Lee. It had been worse burying shishou. But the worst thing of all, was coming home only to find that she had no home. Picking through the wreakage of what had once been her apartment building, Sakura managed to recover her old Team 7 photo. It was the last thing she had to remind her of her sensei. It was the only thing she had that was before Team 7 fell apart, irrepairable. A piece of red ribbon was pinned under a part of a broken wall, and Sakura clutched it like a lifeline, tying it around her wrist so she wouldn't lose it. A teddy bear she'd had since she was small, and a cup that had somehow survived the collapse of the building. She could've laughed, it was one that Naruto always seemed to use when he came over.
She managed to recover a few other things, stuffing them all in a rucksack before setting off to find someplace--anyplace--that wouldn't be as painful as her parent's place. Or shishou's. Or Shizune-neechan's.
She could've been surprised when she found herself outside of Ino's door, but she wasn't. She could've cried at the way Ino looked so thin and the way her eyes just didn't glow like they usually did, but she managed not to. She could only offer a weak smile and an offhand shrug.
"Hey pig, got any room for one more?" She could've winced at the way her voice seemed to crack, but she was too tired. Ino cocked her head and glared, or rather, pretended to glare, blocking the doorway as she leaned into Sakura's face.
"You better be glad I like you Forehead, otherwise I'd say no. Get your ass in here and stop moping in my doorway. You owe me for this, you know." A finger wagged in front of her nose, and Sakura was almost saddened to see it wasn't perfectly manicured like it should have been. She set her stuff down inside the door and smiled tiredly.
"I know."
Sakura made some of her mother's best pastries to make up for it, carefully hand-shaping the mochi, taking time to sculpt the silly little flower petals and other fancy decorations into the sweets, powdering them lightly so they wouldn't stick. She had to borrow some of Ino's clothes because all of hers were gone, and they curled up on the wonderfully clean couch with their treats, not talking about how things had been or how things used to be. They didn't talk about the friends they'd both lost. They worked their way through the mochi and a small pint of ice cream, Sakura trying not to cry and Ino being unusually snappish, but, as selfish as it might have been, Sakura was glad.
Because if nothing else, they still had each other, and that was something. It wasn't until much later, after half the sweets in the house had been exhausted and the cool of night was well underway that Sakura finally broke down. Ino had been in her room when the tears had started, but suddenly she was there, pulling Sakura into a warm embrace. It was safe, but even if it was Ino, this moment would never be shared with anyone. No one would hear about how much Sakura had cried and sobbed and nearly screamed in emotional agony as Ino held her, smoothed her hair and rocked her. Sakura took both their pain into herself and expelled it all at once in a fit of passionate sorrow.
Too wrapped up in her own tears, Sakura hardly noticed when Ino started to cry, but it didn't matter. They were together, no matter what had happened, they were together, they had lost so much together, but they were best friends. That was something no one could take away from them, because no matter what happened, they would still be best friends, and best friends helped clean up the pieces when everything went to hell around them.
When Sakura finally beat back the last of her exhausted sniffles, there were no quips about her being a baby. There was just a familiar hand that helped pull her off the floor where she'd collapsed, and helped her to the bathroom. They washed their faces, shared a towel as they dried their faces and hands before sharing a hug. The teddy bear that Sakura had rescued from the rubble was pulled out, and the dust beaten off of it outside. The morning found two exhausted girls curled on the bed, their hands clasped tightly in their sleep, and a lost teddy bear kicked to the floor.
It wasn't much, but they still had each other, and in a way, that's all they'd need. It was, at least, a start.