NOTE: You can read this story on my blog with a black background, a soft narration colour and color-coordinated dialogues at: http://generaliterature.blogspot.com/2012/12/sakuras-forbidden-love-teaser.html
Disclaimer: Naruto is an ongoing Japanese Manga series written and illustrated by Masashi Kishimoto with an Animé adaptation. The Manga is published by Shueisha in Japan, and Viz Media in the United States, Canada, and UK, and it is serialized by Shonen Jump. The TV Animé is directed by Hayato Date, and licensed by Aniplex in Japan, Viz Media in the United States, and Manga Entertainment in the UK.
I also do not own any of the profile pictures I used in my fan fictions.
Sakura sat on her heels silently astride Shizune, their heads bowed and their brows frowned. Ton-ton's nose was quirked in a primly manner. It could almost feel the depression emanating from the girls' arched bodies, supposedly impeding the Hokage's recovery.
The concerned pig suddenly rebuked them, its tone evidently that of irritation and sympathy. What did depression ever solve? How was agonizing over Tsunade's state beneficial to anyone or anything?
As though they had been in another world—a vast universe tucked away in a quite corner of their mind, Sakura and Shizune flew back to planet earth. But this universe was not one easily avoided; no sooner had they departed than they were being pulled in once more.
Shizune stifled a chuckle, looking down on the tiny tyke on four legs. “I don't think Ton-ton likes it when we sulk,” she informed, reeling in Sakura's consciousness before she drifted off again. And Ton-ton made some blissful sound, making the woman aware that her presumption was spot on.
Sakura smiled a wanly smile, her eyes troubled still, even as she looked down at the pudgy pig. “I guess you're right.”
“I'm surprised that Naruto-kun chose to take Hinata instead of you. It was very expected,” Shizune pointed out, seeming far more disturbed than the girl was.
Sakura shook her head leisurely, her eyes slowly blinking close and then open. “No, it's totally fine,” she said quickly, trying to hide the hint of petulance in her voice. “It's obvious that Hinata cares deeply for Naruto. She risked her life for him. And it's also safe to assume that the battle with Pain may have ended differently, if she hadn’t made an appearance.”
“I think she deserves to be the one to go with him.”
Silence fell over the small tent once again—a more awkward moment of silence than the former—for at least before; they were both not this self-conscious.
Ton-ton watch as Sakura peeled the washcloth from Tsunade's forehead, dipped it into a basin of water, wrung it out a tad and then placed it back over her forehead. Her eyes gleamed emotionally, but it was hard to say what thoughts lingered at the tip of her mind.
“Sakura, why don't you go home,” Shizune suddenly suggested. “Your house has already been rebuilt, right? You should go home and get yourself some rest.”
“But—” she cast a gesturing eye at an unconscious Tsunade.
“I'll be more than enough to look after her. Plus, I have Ton-ton here to assist me.”
“Poi. Poi,” it squealed ardently.
Sakura chuckled, her expression more genuine this time. “I don't know...”
“Listen, Sakura... it's going to take a while before the village is completely rebuilt, and during this time—if word gets out about its current state, especially that our kage is in a coma—the other countries may decide to invade us. Should anything happen,” her eyes narrowed solemnly, “we need all of our best medical ninjas to be in tip-top shape to support the jounins. Naruto and Kakashi will need your help, too.”
Sakura sighed and then shrugged her shoulders in surrender. She didn’t bother to mention that Shizune was a savvier medical ninja. “Okay, if you insist. Now that I think about it,” she stood, “I haven't had any decent sleep in a while.”
Shizune giggles softly as she looks up at her young apprentice. “Well, that's a part of being a doctor, especially if you're working under Tsunade-sama.”
“Be careful,” Sakura said as she donned her boots. “She still might be able to pound you.”
“Eeek,” the woman shrieked and then cringes, her eyes and mouth dilated, as though she were bracing herself for the fatal clobbering.
Sakura heaved a half-suppressed laugh. “Be sure to keep me informed, if there are any significant changes in her condition.”
She smiled, casting Tsunade one final gaze. Teacher, hurry back to us... we need you.
Sakura made her way through the busy town, a hint of irritation in her quick strides. Most of the village was still in shambles, and noise could be heard from all around. But the angry maiden heard nothing. Her consciousness was completely enveloped in one amongst the many femininely complex and sectional categories in her mind. This time it was jealousy—a jealously coated with denial and provocation.
Jealous? Me? That's absurd! What do I care if that idiot chose to take Hinata instead of me, she fumed. We may be apart of the same team, but that doesn't mean I deserve any special treatment.
Fortunately, her mom wasn't home. She had volunteered to be one of the many cooks that served the workers in the village. Her duties kept busy every day, and Sakura was inconspicuously enjoying the toll exhaustion had on her. Hellz yeah, the woman was quiet and far less nagging. It was wonderful, and god knows Sakura was relieved she would have the house all for herself. She couldn't be more livid right now, fists clenched.
Livid? I'm not livid. Why would I be livid? I'm perfectly fine, the words formed swiftly in her mind. I came home to get some rest, and that's exactly what I intend to do. Naruto can drop-dead for all I care—wait, I don’t mean that… do I?
After she took her boots off—chucking them aside harder than necessary—Sakura marched up the stairs to her room, ignoring the changes in the house's decor. Most of the furniture had been sent to hell in the destruction of the village, but she was able to salvage most of everything that was in her room, including what she held most dear.
A sentimental glow quivering in her eyes, Sakura lift a framed photo to her face. It was a photo that they all shared, and Naruto and Sasuke's sour facial expressions always made her smile. With hope, desire and deep wishes, Sakura touched her fingertip to the glass of the frame, leaving her fingerprint upon Sasuke's lips. If only she had the chance to do that in reality.
Blowing out a sigh, Sakura rests the frame back upon her bedside table and then sat at the edge of her bed. She looked across the room, to where her so-called study was. The table was big enough to support all the medical books she had borrowed from Tsunade's personal study, without consuming too much of her room's space. The thick books were stocked atop each other, tinted a light blue form the silky blue curtains she had hung at both windows within her room.
Other girls might be excited about the opportunity to rearrange their rooms, after this horrible catastrophe, but Sakura wasn't. Those days are over. Three years have past. To save herself the trouble of having to think artistically, she arranged her room just like it was before.
Despite her early growth into womanhood—like a teenager with a crush, an obsession—she had glued many photos of Naruto and Sasuke on the wall at the foot of her bed. But it wasn't a case where she had preserved this childish and overrated mentality, she had just decided not to remove them. After all, they might have been ruined in the process. But wait, why were they still okay considering?
There were more photos of Naruto than there were of Sasuke, even excluding those taken when he came back to the village with Jiraiya. What did this mean? It obviously held symbolism.
Oh, that's right, her eyes slitted as she look down upon her fingers. Even when they were younger, Naruto was more around and considerate than Sasuke. And throughout these 3 years—they have shared burdens together, they have cried together, and they have grown stronger together. Naruto has grown into a fine and handsome man over the years, and her fondness for him grew, too. He was now a hero that finally was acknowledged by everyone in the village. He should be proud.
She supposed somewhere in her heart, after confessing her love to him—even if it were for a greater purpose—he would have been curious about the truth of it and ask her instead to accompany him to the spa.
“What am saying,” Sakura cupped the sides of your face and then shook her head violently. Hoping to keep those embarrassing thoughts at bay, she rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. With any luck, that subject matter would have stayed in her bedroom and would have wandered away by the time she got out.
Needless to say, Sakura hadn't such luck; these weren't exactly the kind of thoughts that could easily be pushed aside. But a girl could wish.
She allowed her shoulders to sag while standing beneath the shower. Water motioned in warm waves down her body, her curves caressed, obscured by the steam of her hot bath. And water pitter-patter on her closed lids, as she tilts her head and combs her fingers through her hair.
Before she could attempt to veer her thoughts in another direction—even if just a few degrees, even if to past-related events—Sakura began thinking about Naruto and Hinata again.
Whether or not their feelings were mutual, the resort that they had gone to is ideal for marriage couples, particularly on their honeymoon. Naruto and Hinata are young, beautiful, compatible and curious; what if they are influenced by the ambiance promoted by the spa and its staff? What if Hinata confesses again and Naruto actually reacts. How would he react?
Involuntarily, a series of quick worse case scenarios flitted through Sakura's mind:
1. Naruto stumbling across a stark naked Hinata in their suite, stepping into her panties after having herself a shower;
2. Naruto once again stumbling upon Hinata, but this time, while she's using the toilet;
3. With a devilish grin and an inward chuckle, his eyes burning with intent, Naruto pours a shot of aphrodisiac into Hinata beverage while she's washing her hands in the bathroom;
4. Finally—and by this point Sakura had started fuming—she thought of him sneaking up quietly behind an unsuspecting Hinata. He was drooling lustfully, his eyes twinkling, hands raised and his fingers furling and unfurling in a squeezing gesture. Suddenly, he gropes the defenseless princess from behind, her breasts crushed in his large hands.
Hinata gasps in response, alarmed, her arms bent limply upward with innocent fists as she looks down at her imprisoned bosom. Her expression was prim but adorable.
“What are these,” Naruto whispered seductively against her ear, so seductive that the fire of Sakura's anger fluttered fiercely for an instant. His eyes were cast in a shadow, his lips curved in a perverted V, both qualities portraying the shady change in his persona.
“NA-RU-TO,” Sakura hissed and then growls murderously, frantically strangling the hose-like shower faucet as though it were Naruto's poor neck. Her eyes were disturbingly wide, her teeth gritted, and the distinct vein at the side of her forehead seemed mere moments away from explosion.
It wasn't long, however, before her tantrum had run its course; after all, its trigger was merely based on conjecture. Why should she blow a blood vessel and kill herself for that, even if it were true? That was a good point. Why should she?
Sakura thought about that for a while, even as she decided to draw herself a bath to take a long soak. The fit she just threw seemed to have made her muscles sore. Or was that psychological? Good god, just when did she step out of her comfort zone?
Oh, that's right, she considered, when she had substituted her use of the showerhead with that of the pipe just above the bathtub. The dial squeaked, when she slowly turned it anti-clockwise. A steady flow of water came gushing into the plugged tub, and Sakura carefully laid back in her acrylic paradise. She lazily reached for a bottle of body wash and poured a fair quantity of the sweet scented liquid into the rising tide.
With that out of the way, Sakura reclined her head and allowed her eyes to drift close. She took a deep breath, allowing her body to relax. Her senses bloomed and expanded amidst her meditation. She could clearly hear the sound of the gurgling elemental sprit that was the running water from the pipe. It sounded like the fierce rapids of a river high up in the mountains—but the water that hugged her skin was of a warm temperature. The fragrance of the body wash interfused with the steam from the water kissed her flushed body.
Now that she thinks about it, it wasn't a case where she had stepped out of her comfort zone. It was more as if it had abandoned her. Yes, for these three longs years, it was within Naruto that she found closure, comfort and reassurance. His determination was the endless wick on which the flame that was her hope burned.
Although it would have taken an eternity, he was helping her to gather the many fragments of her broken heart. But every time she saw Sasuke, the hole in her heart throbs fiercely, scattering the pieces all over again. And all the while, Naruto would get down on his knees beside her to help pick up the pieces.
It may have been three years, but Sakura was still an empty shell. Like acres of a farmer's land, rendered barren due to a prolonged season of drought, for these few years, Sakura's heart has been numb and infertile. There were moments of fleeting rainfall and healing that enabled the land to produce a few corn—but Naruto deserved more than a few ear of corn. And no amount of investment on his part could allow her to bear more fruit.
She was broken beyond repair, yet she could not turn him away or claim that she didn't feel for him. She had selfishly used him as a crutch, and eventually fell in love with him throughout their many trials and hardships together. But she knew better than anyone that the village's hero was entitled to more than the small measure of love she had to offer. As selfish and dependent on him as she'd been, Sakura would never claim him for herself.
Despite her reaction earlier, she felt less guilty on the assumption that the feelings Hinata had for Naruto were mutual. She didn't mean to love him more than a friend, nor did she ever intended to confess her feelings, regardless of the circumstances.
The flickers of jealously she felt revealed many truths to her, and she left herself entirely unprotected against the barrage of emotional bruises it inflicted. Pricks of pain played around the raw edges of the gaping hole in her heart. She knew she deserved it for using him the way she did. He was her best friend. She would always love him, and it would never, ever be enough.
Suddenly, Sakura's eyes snapped open at the sound of water overflowing from the bathtub. Torn between wanting to turn the faucet off with haste—before the bathroom could flood even more—and the caution of refraining from stirring the water in the tub too much—which would have only create the same disaster—Sakura made her way to the pipe.
When she had leaned back again—after grumbling and chiding herself for the mundane chore she had created for herself—Sakura started reminiscing, particularly about that time when she and Sasuke (Naruto in disguise) almost kissed while sitting side-by-side on a bench together.
Needless to say, the day ended without her lips being claimed by his. Sakura assumed he was shy, but she had reason enough to doubt that. It got her thinking, and she takes a good, long look at her torso—breasts and nipples. She wondered if she were womanly enough for Sasuke. Did he perhaps prefer older women? Did he like girls with large breasts and little cleavage?
She squeezed her curves and frowned morosely at their insignificant size. She couldn't help but compare them to Hinata's, and ended up dying a little inside.
What colour nipples did Sasuke prefer, she continued to ponder. Did he like them small and pink-tipped? She squeezed hers and then quirked, a blush staining her cheeks at the brief wave of pleasure it summoned.
Did Sasuke prefer outgoing or shy girls? Now that she thinks about it, Sakura knew very little about Sasuke and yet he held her heart with such might. It didn't intimate her—knowing little about him. Instead—looking forward to learning about his likes and dislikes made her thrilled. They may have been friends for a while, but actually engaging themselves in an intimate relationship would bring its joys. It would be exciting.
She just knew Naruto would bring him back to her. She had to believe that—it was the first step to having it become a reality.
Sakura's eyes just about popped out of her head, when she untied his sash, pulled his shorts down, and was acquainted with his man parts. What was the use of the deep breath and composure she gathered before this? They both dispersed, almost immediately.
Sasuke snorted inwardly with satisfaction at her response. And although Sakura had never seen a man's third branch before, she readily surmised that the gods had blessed him in this regard. Was this man made perfect to suit and please any woman? Just what star was he born under?
She knew she was seducing him and there was probably no mutual desire, but she had to wonder: was this hers and only hers? Would she be the first to hold and to savor him? Would she ever have the privilege of permanently owning his body... and his heart?
Thanks for reading Sakura's Forbidden Love -- well, the little of it that I uploaded, anyway. I hope it tickles your fancy thus far, and needless to say: I'll be able to finish the entire story much faster with your motivational commentary. Heck, it doesn't even need to be complimentary; just leave a review. I'll appreciate it :">