{Dream 002 - What girls learn}
((Sakura is a dormant passenger in her body. It's not terrible. Drowsy and unaware, blissfully so, it feels like peace. Welcome rest. Sit back, the feeling coaxes, relax. Let someone else take care of everything.
Not so bad.
"I, Haruno Sakura..."
Something stirs; grows. Somewhere in the back of her head, an afterthought, like the feel of her forehead protector against her extra-wide forehead, a pressure and a promise...
No, not me! That's not me!
"Would like to for-"
DON'T, SAKURA-CHAN!/I CAN'T LOSE HERE!
Is it Naruto's voice or is it her own that is loudest, echoing across the battlefield in her head? It doesn't matter. What matters is that she is awake and fighting, like she'd promised. Like she'd chosen to. She chose to be a kunoichi; she hadn't worked so hard to give up.
To let Ino down.
She chooses to fight.))
This is what she learned:
(("What are you?"
"Didn't you know? Women have to be tough to survive."))
Grass tickles Sakura's bare arms, her ears. She's laying down, hair spread out on the dirt below her, her hands folded neatly and demurely over her stomach, still soft with nine-year-old baby fat. Ino, by contrast, is akimbo - one of her hands brushes Sakura's sleeve. Wildflowers in a riot of colors arc above them, bold against the sky.
Ino sits up, suddenly, and leans over Sakura. Her head blocks out the sun.
Their conversation is hazy and holey, eaten away from memory by time. Ino says something about boys and kissing and practice, Sakura blushes and protests, Ino rolls her eyes ("Don't be a baby!") and leans down to put her mouth against Sakura's.
Subconscious imitates memory; the kiss is not soft, or sweet, or gentle. It is two children fumbling at intimacy they don't understand and who have yet to learn how to give and take. Their noses bump, their teeth click against each other through their lips. Ino places a firm hand against Sakura's knee, and the heat there sends a tremor through Sakura, so swift and terrifying, that she yelps and jerks back, looking into her friend's face.
But it isn't Ino as she remembers her. It is Ino as she is, at sixteen - feminine and pretty and haunted by a loss that only makes her beauty more poignant, that will only make her more attractive to boys and men. She is everything that Sakura - now rough, muscular, too intimidating to be approached - is not. Everything Sakura had wanted to be at eight.
Ino smiles, and it would make a man do anything for her; it paralyzes Sakura. All the opening Ino needs to lean in and kiss Sakura with the confidence of a woman. Like it was inevitable that they should do this properly.
And Sakura lets her, lets her, lets her. Gives in.
Ino's lips and tongue and sweet breath pull her in, ensnare her, trap her into doing exactly what Ino wants.
(The Yamanaka family specializes in control.)
Sakura pulls away sharply. Both their breaths come too fast, too short.
"It's not so bad, is it?" Ino murmurs in a bedroom voice. "Admitting defeat isn't so bad."
Sakura doesn't even blink.
"Yes it is," she snarls. Grabs Ino's face in both her hands. Attacks.
Ino moans against her mouth.
(Women have to be tough to survive.)
-----
[ Sakura wakes, but just barely. She groggily looks at the Hitomi and realizes that everyone must have seen that. She's too tired and cranky to deal with it, though, so she simply turns its face down, turns over in her bed, and falls asleep again. ]
Not so bad.
"I, Haruno Sakura..."
Something stirs; grows. Somewhere in the back of her head, an afterthought, like the feel of her forehead protector against her extra-wide forehead, a pressure and a promise...
No, not me! That's not me!
"Would like to for-"
DON'T, SAKURA-CHAN!/I CAN'T LOSE HERE!
Is it Naruto's voice or is it her own that is loudest, echoing across the battlefield in her head? It doesn't matter. What matters is that she is awake and fighting, like she'd promised. Like she'd chosen to. She chose to be a kunoichi; she hadn't worked so hard to give up.
To let Ino down.
She chooses to fight.))
This is what she learned:
(("What are you?"
"Didn't you know? Women have to be tough to survive."))
Grass tickles Sakura's bare arms, her ears. She's laying down, hair spread out on the dirt below her, her hands folded neatly and demurely over her stomach, still soft with nine-year-old baby fat. Ino, by contrast, is akimbo - one of her hands brushes Sakura's sleeve. Wildflowers in a riot of colors arc above them, bold against the sky.
Ino sits up, suddenly, and leans over Sakura. Her head blocks out the sun.
Their conversation is hazy and holey, eaten away from memory by time. Ino says something about boys and kissing and practice, Sakura blushes and protests, Ino rolls her eyes ("Don't be a baby!") and leans down to put her mouth against Sakura's.
Subconscious imitates memory; the kiss is not soft, or sweet, or gentle. It is two children fumbling at intimacy they don't understand and who have yet to learn how to give and take. Their noses bump, their teeth click against each other through their lips. Ino places a firm hand against Sakura's knee, and the heat there sends a tremor through Sakura, so swift and terrifying, that she yelps and jerks back, looking into her friend's face.
But it isn't Ino as she remembers her. It is Ino as she is, at sixteen - feminine and pretty and haunted by a loss that only makes her beauty more poignant, that will only make her more attractive to boys and men. She is everything that Sakura - now rough, muscular, too intimidating to be approached - is not. Everything Sakura had wanted to be at eight.
Ino smiles, and it would make a man do anything for her; it paralyzes Sakura. All the opening Ino needs to lean in and kiss Sakura with the confidence of a woman. Like it was inevitable that they should do this properly.
And Sakura lets her, lets her, lets her. Gives in.
Ino's lips and tongue and sweet breath pull her in, ensnare her, trap her into doing exactly what Ino wants.
(The Yamanaka family specializes in control.)
Sakura pulls away sharply. Both their breaths come too fast, too short.
"It's not so bad, is it?" Ino murmurs in a bedroom voice. "Admitting defeat isn't so bad."
Sakura doesn't even blink.
"Yes it is," she snarls. Grabs Ino's face in both her hands. Attacks.
Ino moans against her mouth.
(Women have to be tough to survive.)
-----
[ Sakura wakes, but just barely. She groggily looks at the Hitomi and realizes that everyone must have seen that. She's too tired and cranky to deal with it, though, so she simply turns its face down, turns over in her bed, and falls asleep again. ]