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Gift!fic for mikochan_noda: Fall Into Your Sunlight [Dec. 26th, 2010|07:20 am]
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[Current Mood |happyhappy]
[Current Music |Shattered - Trading Yesterday]

Fandom: Naruto
Summary: Memories keep the mind company. The body remembers its way back home.
Genre: General/Angst
Word Count: 3,045
Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke
Warning: 2nd person, present tense
A/N: When I started writing this last year, I never thought it'd turn into something like this. You do not give a wonderful person depressing!fic for their birthday. D: It's just not done. Sadly, it was damn cold outside on that particular 4th of November; that made me want to write not-happy!fic. As you can guess, it all went spiraling downhill from there.

A year later, I'm looking back at it and marveling at how horrible the opening scene was before sirona_gs swooped in like the Wonder Woman she is and pulled me up from the depths of despair. sirona has been an amazing beta and even more amazing person; I can only gape at how bravely she dived in to rescue what I had thought was a lost cause. O_O I'd go as far as to say this fic is 1/4th me and 3/4ths sirona, which would not be exaggerating it all all.♥

The title, Fall Into Your Sunlight, is her doing as well how are you so brilliant, woman ♥_♥. Listening to Shattered by Trading Yesterday wouldn't go amiss either, before reading this... oh, I have no idea what this is supposed to be anymore, actually.

mikochan_noda, I guess you can call this a belated DX birthday gift, a Christmas present and a token of my adoration all rolled into one (hopefully) pretty package. XD I hope you'll enjoy it!



Fall Into Your Sunlight


For Mikochan_noda




This is what the road to perdition must feel like:

Silence in your ears, silence in your mind; silence, loud and empty, as fog uncurls all around you like fingers and takes you by the throat, squeezing purposefully, in an attempt to strangle out what little life is left in you (there isn’t much, you know that). It invades your nostrils like a clever poison, until it is all you can breathe. And you can’t stop – because it is all is around you, and if you don’t breathe, you die.

You aren’t very opposed to the idea right now. Death seems a kinder alternative to this slow decay.

—(But you don’t know why you keep breathing. For whom you keep breathing.)—

The murky vapor caresses your face like the tips of Death’s bony fingers, sparing not a hint of warmth before they pull you into oblivion; your skin soaks up the sharp, stinging sensation like a sponge, shriveling with every breath that leaves your lungs, every heartbeat that echoes in the black and white caverns of your mind.

—(You can’t find the gray area no matter how you try.)—

You don’t know where you’re going, and it doesn’t occur to you to question this lack of awareness because you’ve always known what it is you seek – revenge (and something to fill the emptiness that lingers so persistently afterwards, worming its way under your skin – but it’s never been about feeling whole. You knew that; you’ve always known that. It’s never been about finding happiness, either. You know that, too.)

You think you see the silhouette of something looming in the distance, so you walk towards it. It doesn’t occur to you to wonder why, only that you have to because it feels hauntingly familiar, like the sword hanging limply from your useless fingers with their calluses and blunt-edged nails.

You take a step forward, sway like something formless; the sleeves of your haori sway with you. Wind rushes in with a whisper, damp and harsh, like ice trailing up your spine. Taking a step further seems impossible; your bones feel too heavy.

—(They’ve always felt a little too old, too tired for your body.)—

You walk until your joints creak with exhaustion, until your limbs feel wooden and your eyes sting and your lips crack and gasp for water. You walk until your lungs burn, until it’s too much effort to lift your mud-caked sandals, until you feel like you can’t anymore.

Your sword catches your fall, along with your pride.

Your fingers tighten around the hilt reflexively; they feel stiff enough to break. You raise your eyes to them slowly, assaulted by the sudden knowledge that you had almost crumbled. The dulled metal of your blade shows two equally dull eyes, searching, probing; blinking, startled, when light bounces off the surface. You look up at the sky – the sun is no more than a sad silhouette among the ragged clouds, spreading feathery warmth over your face.

Sunlight, you realize, feels warm. You don’t know why that is a surprise.

Around you, the fog has started to cautiously dissipate. You think you see can see a little more clearly now. In the distance, the looming silhouette becomes sharper: gates.

There must be something beyond them; anything but emptiness would be welcome, but you have to reach the other side first. You’re almost at the end of the road, you think. Almost immediately, your heart lightens – it’s a relief, a small mercy. You try to right yourself, pulling the tip of your sword out of the ground, and even in the state you’re in now, the movement has a tragic grace.

Everything about you has always been that – tragic.

For a long time you just stand there in the gradually fading whiteness, feeling lost — a stranger in your own body. Then you remember you have to reach those gates. You don’t want to die before you get there – it seems important.

So you start walking again, this time with an urgency you haven’t felt in a long time –your feet drag on the slick moss and you almost slip, but your sword braces you even now; your hair sticks wetly to your forehead, your neck, your face, but still you press forward.

—(You forge ahead because he would never give up. He’s always won where it matters.)—

By the time you reach the elusive gates your throat feels stuffed with cotton balls and your skin has sagged enough for deep lines to cut across your face. Your mouth is dry.

Your eyes are dry, too. They’ve been dry for a long time.

If you squint, you can see prisms of brilliant yellow light peeking over the tall structure, slowly gaining in warmth and color. The sunlight beckons gently, and you walk towards it because wreathed in fog, it is the only thing that exists for you at the moment. The warmth washes over your pallid skin, teases forward distorted snatches of long-suppressed memories; they flash before your eyes too quick for you to really linger on what mean—only on how they feel. And you remember sounds: voices, desperate and loving and forgiving and selfless, all at once. And—

—(You promised you would, for h—)—

—And you suddenly know why reaching the gates is so important. You promised you’d come back, someday; to whom and what for— you know, but you can’t remember. But you promised, and you’ve kept your promise; even in the trance-like state you’re in, you know that’s not something you take lightly— the realization hits you like a slap in the face. You drop to your knees like a puppet with its strings cut and stare up at the imposing gates before you.

You see three spokes of sunlight emerging from the clouds; they drift to kneel before you as you kneel on the mud, like a welcome on equal terms. Slowly, you tip forward until you hit the ground with a thump, temple-first – until you’re assaulted by the strong scent of moss and dirt, and the warm rays fall softly upon the long-faded red of a stitched-on fan your back.

You haven’t long to live now, you know that. You can feel it, in every thinning inhale, every fading heartbeat.

Maybe you’ll be buried here.

Maybe you won’t.

Who knows? Who cares? You don’t. You’re so tired.

From the corner of your eye, you make out the three spokes of light drifting back up to the clouds, turning into three swirling siphons; they remind you of three hands that have always been ready to hold yours – so you reach out towards them, feel the warmth seeping in through your fingers. Before you close your eyes, you think you tilt your lips up, just a bit.

And just like that, your body gives out. The ANBU team is on you a second later.




Carved from leaves and fresh earth, the village is an echo of a time and place called yesterday. Grasslands and rustic mire have been worn into dust and rubble, giving way to roads of baked earth and asphalt that converge like
Tributaries.

For a single road, time has stood still. The moon wanders companionless, its complexion weary from climbing heaven. Its rays crawls along the cobbled path, searching aimlessly for footsteps that have long since
Vanished.

The pale light traces its way to proud gates, lingers hesitantly on the relics engraved into them.
From the other side, they seem magnificent, a doorway to an evergreen forest
— a fairytale land enclosed in
Vines.

Beyond the gates
Waits a lonely bench
Against the backdrop of a dew-wet autumn
Dawn.




For you life flies by with a swiftness bordering on the surreal; it still feels like just yesterday that you were savoring the lukewarm aftertaste of green tea on your tongue, in a place where there was just you and them and forever. What remains are the memories you know you’ve no right to have.

You don’t recall them too clearly, those memories. But you remember the motes of snow perched gently on his nose and the unusually serious set of his mouth.

—(You still remember the betrayal in Naruto’s eyes. You remember the madness in his.)—

Naruto forgives you, like he forgives everyone else; you hold his hand and smile, and pretend not to see the resigned longing in his eyes when he looks at you, unaware that you’ve already noticed. And Sasuke— your last memory of him is blurry: fingers digging into your throat with a purpose, a crazed smile on lips that never smile, blood that shouldn’t be there flowing from eyes that aren’t as kind as you remember.

—(You have a hunch that what Naruto remembers of him is very different. Because Naruto has always been different.)—

What you want to remember is the secret tilt of his lips on the good days, under sallow April skies, hay in his hair, another mundane task to complete on his mind and a scowl on his face when Naruto shouts like it’s all he knows how to do – like he wants to make sure Sasuke is not deaf and hears him properly – and tries to turn weed-pulling into a competition.

You want to remember the bad days, too – the days that weren’t really all that bad, but had seemed like it at the time because you all secretly enjoyed wallowing in shared misery, cursing a late-again teacher who knew all of you better than you knew yourselves, or thought he did. It made you feel happy and not-alone – like a family, but you don’t think they realized it back then. They were always so busy, bickering and pushing each other forward.

—(And leaving you behind.)—

What you want to remember most is the Times You Made It Through. Your first taste of fear, sharp like a knife through your gut and bitter like the bile in your throat, mocking you, helpless as you were on a forest floor covered with feather-soft pink strands that had given way to something just as strong as they were fragile (but not strong enough). Your hands are bigger now, not shapely, not frail, roughened with responsibility that you should feel proud of shouldering—the only thing you see when you look at them, capable as they are now but were not always, are razor-edged smiles that lent an unholy glint to sulfur-yellow eyes; and little-people feet leaving little feet-like shapes on swamps that smell putrid, like acid and compost and rotten eggs; and skinny little-people legs trudging in pairs of three through dark forests with trees that made terrifyingly nebulous shapes if you looked at them a certain way. But it was all okay. The times you faced death and barely Made It Through were okay, because you did it together – and back then, there had been a boy who needed you to hold his hand when the pain got too much to bear.

But that wouldn’t be fair; remembering things for what they had been and could have been, and not for how they turned out, wouldn’t be fair – not to Sasuke, not to you, not to anybody.

So you remember him as he is, like you’ve seen him last, but most of the time you don’t remember him at all because life moves on, you have to move on, too – and you try.

You try so hard.

But sometimes, the smell of fresh tomatoes in your Sunday groceries will remind you he liked them too, and that still-not-fading scar on Naruto’s chest will remind you just who had put it there – until the smile on Naruto’s face becomes too-wide, too-cheerful and not oblivious enough to be convincing; until you don’t want to remember anymore – and so you go back to not-remembering, scold Naruto for smiling like a lunatic and put the tomatoes away in the fridge along with your memories.

The next Sunday comes around, as it always does, and the parched coffee beans you measure by touch remind you just how he liked it. Black, and bitter, trying to be an adult in a little boy’s body. You remember to put extra sugar in Naruto’s coffee when he visits next.

For days afterwards, your mind goes on auto-pilot, shuttered like a window against a storm. Your ink-tipped fingers rove reverently over esoteric medical tomes; you murmur words like a prayer, memorize them by sight, by touch, by how they taste on your tongue; you learn how to reset broken bodies and break them with the same touch, learn to stop heartbeats with a senbon and to cast little illusions – people (Kakashi) used to say you are good that.

—(You cast them on yourself sometimes, before you go to sleep. Kakashi’s too-sharp grey eye lingers knowingly on your face the next day.)—

In the mornings, it’s always do this, don’t do that, sign that report, hold the aorta steady, dammit, not like that! and when you’re done with telling people what to do (being in control isn’t as satisfactory as you once thought it would be, not when your world has already fallen apart), you find yourself staring at a bleeding sun, dust in your mouth and tired eyes in your sockets, lying in a crater of your own destruction until Tsunade, displeased and still-slightly-inebriated comes to stand over it like a too-long shadow and glibly throws a rock at you with pin-point accuracy and too much force. It bounces off the middle of a once-too-big forehead that you still haven’t grown into and elicits a painful cry that makes Tsunade smirk.

Some days you think Tsunade does it on purpose. She doesn’t have much to amuse herself with ever since she gave up her gambling days, and you brace yourself for the day you’ll die by way of rock. Wonderful.

But the rock does its job, unlucky tool of communication between student and teacher that it is, snaps you out of whatever self-defeatist headspace you had gotten yourself into. You realize that Tsunade does do it on purpose – dishing out tough love because she has tough luck and nothing has ever really gone her way; she isn’t about to let you follow in her footsteps and develop blisters on your feet because you’re still too young, her eyes say. You look up groggily, blink like you are the one with the hangover and rub the clumps of dirt from your face; you must really look a mess right now, but you merely fix the hitae-ate askew on your head and don’t concern yourself with it too much. Tsunade’s seen you at your worst, after all – has been responsible for you limping out of training fields with broken jaws and black eyes, wishing you could curl up then and there on the concrete beneath your feet. Tough love, indeed.

Your master barks at you to get up, you’re still not good enough, girl. But there is quiet approval in the proud tilt of Tsunade’s lips; you feel a momentary satisfaction at being able to learn another thing Tsunade will leave behind with you—she’s the only person you haven’t failed (not yet), so you bask in the praise she’s always so careful to give you in small, succinct doses and walk back home, body heavy but mind light with knowledge, already eager to scribble down Tsunade’s words on ink and paper.

—(Not because you don’t think you won’t remember them, but because words on paper stay where they are. Tsunade won’t stay forever.)—

At night, the coffee on your table gleams like oil under the egg-yolk light of your lamp, cooling rapidly in the nighttime air that waltzes uninvited through your window. It coaxes pages to turn, flap flap flap; the sound enters your dreams, turns into velvet butterfly wings, spotted red and blue, which take flight towards the sun like a beacon of hope against the sky; until that beacon becomes too blinding, too real, and you wake up and realize that it’s already the next morning, another day to look forward to, another patient to monitor, another report to check, another intern to castigate. It’s just another day you won’t see Naruto (he’s so busy now, you’re so proud of him. So proud), another day Kakashi will read you like a book and go back to reading the book at hand, it must be interesting; another day you’ll still smile and another day time has forged ahead and left you behind, hung up on butterfly wings too pretty to be true.

If Sasuke is the past and Naruto is the future, then you’re the present – always caught between the two and never knowing which way to go.

Day by day, you improve, you measure your growth against no one but yourself (for that, they always had each other), against the you of yesterday, and you learn. You learn a lot of things. You learn how to accept, you learn so much, but it’s never enough.

—(Letting go is an art you still haven’t perfected.)—

Even after all this time, you haven’t learned a thing—or so it feels, always so wrapped up in your maybe’s as you are; but you push those scornful voices aside, drown them in the shattering of stones beneath your fist until the ground beneath you feels stable once more and those voices beat a temporary retreat.

For now, you just live in the moment because it seems simple enough and you just don’t know what else to do.

Then an ANBU member knocks on your door and summons you to the hospital. The only explanation she offers is that Tsunade wants you there, now. You’re out the door in a moment, sleep forgotten and hair uncombed, and soon your sandals thunder against bamboo rooftops and impeccable tiles, leaving dusty footprints behind.

The last person you expect to see when you barge into the ICU is Uchiha Sasuke, unconscious and nothing but bones, skin looking like it could easily be stripped off and folded into origami.

And just like that, life doesn’t seem as simple as it had a moment ago.




Merry Christmas, everyone!

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Comments:
[User Picture]From: 000_hester_000
2010-12-26 02:11 am (UTC)
but it’s never been about feeling whole. You knew that; you’ve always known that. It’s never been about finding happiness, either. You know that, too.

That's so very Sasuke. I do think that would be an interesting concept--- for Sasuke to be so beaten down by the time he gets to Konoha for him not to be able to take his epic revenge at all.

Of course, since it's me, you know I loved all of Sasuke's guilt-ridden thoughts about Itachi as well. And, naturally, Sakura's sort-of-moving-on, sort-of-really-not tone. Honestly, when I look at recent manga chapters, I realize that Sakura has much more emotional strength than she tends to get credit for. So I like this picture of how hard that must be for her.
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-26 08:57 pm (UTC)
Aww, your icon, gah~. 8D

I'm glad you think so - I had a hard time getting into Sasuke's head when I started writing this last year. I ended up focusing a bit too much on his skin, dammit, until sirona came and saved me♥

To be honest, I wasn't thinking about Itachi at all when I wrote this - at least, not consciously. It just happened, somehow. >.>;; I guess that's because it's Sasuke. Itachi has to be somewhere in there too. ♥

With how the recent chapters have been, the only thing really open to speculation was, not her training because obviously that's not important or her progress, but her emotional stability - I tried to show how much more emotionally stable she was (at least, compared to Naruto and Sasuke. Naruto's fallen off the deep end into obsession and Sasuke-- I don't think there ever was a time he wasn't obsessed with something or other. D: ) Sakura's scene as a bit rushed, but glad that it's to your liking.

you do not want me talking about Sakura's issues with her mangaka. I'll never stop blabbering. .__.
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[User Picture]From: 000_hester_000
2010-12-26 09:09 pm (UTC)
I ended up focusing a bit too much on his skin, dammit

Lol. I just... idk what else to say about that, except for lol.

Yeah, I think the whole Itachi issue has been ingrained in Sasuke for so long that it would be impossible to remove it from his personality at this point. Whether he loves him or hates him, I think Itachi has been the most important person in his life since... well, even since before their parents died.

I feel like Sakura's become a lot more... maybe not stable per se, but a lot more grown-up as the manga's gone on. She's more mature than Naruto or Sasuke, and that's a big contrast to how she was at the beginning of the manga.

ETA: Wait, isn't it like the middle of the night for you? Can't sleep? D:

Edited at 2010-12-26 09:10 pm (UTC)
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-26 10:16 pm (UTC)
lol indeed, hester. I'm lol-ing (incredulously) at myself too, actually. >_>;; it's not fair. why is he so pretty.

I think... you're right about that. Itachi is Sasuke's Most Important Person - aside from his parents, I think Itachi is the only person he has shed tears for so far in the manga. When you're that obsessed with a person, it's hard to label what you feel for that person just "hate" - emotions can't be as clear-cut as that. *thinky-thoughts*

Itachi has always been a part of Sasuke, for a long, long time - even more so now that Sasuke is using Itachi's eyes. I can't wait for that particular conflict to be resolved. Now if only he manga wold speed up a bit... What I like so much about this manga is that you can't write about a single character without mentioning someone else. ♥

Sakura has matured - very much so. I love that Sakura has shed her idealism; is recent chapters have proven anything, it's that she doesn't see the world the way Naruto does. We an argue that Naruto is a more positive person, but his Main Character Plot Shield does come into play quite often. 8/

RE: Lol, it's actually 4am over here right now~ and how did you know? O: I'm actually dead tired atm, but sleep isn't happening any time soon. And, um, like you said once, my mind can't take being not-productive, so I thought, "Might as well clean up my LJ, and get working on those icons/drabbles I keep promising everyone. le sigh."

Strangely, I'm craving some pizza right now./*random* this is what iconing for hours on end does to you
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[User Picture]From: 000_hester_000
2010-12-27 06:04 pm (UTC)
Sasuke is pretty because... Because the Uchihas are all very pretty people, I think.

I think that almost every decision Sasuke has made in the entire manga in one way or another comes back to Itachi in the end.

I wish the manga would speed up, too. >.> All of these drawn-out training scenes with Naruto are the most boring thing I've ever read.

I love that Sakura has shed her idealism; is recent chapters have proven anything, it's that she doesn't see the world the way Naruto does.

I very much agree with that. I don't understand why this manga is so idealistic when it's about a ninja world. Wtf, Kishi.

I realized that, as far as I can tell, you're exactly 12 hours different from me.
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-27 08:56 pm (UTC)
Lol~ That's so true. His gene pool is packed with awesome~ Come to think of it, Naruto's is, too. I don't know why that comes as a surprise. >_>;;

Naruto training scene? lol. Yet another power-up? LOL AGAIN. When I started reading the manga, I was just hoping he'd be different from all the other Shounen Main Characters. More believable, in a way. He was at first, with his attention-seeking determination and clumsiness. And now...

(It's amazing how SMCs eventually, whether they want it or not, become preachers of Courage and Goodwill and Peace. They might as well parade around in habit with flyers reading "I'll never give up. I'll protect my friends. And I'll use speech-no-jutsu to rescue you who is clearly evil for the sake of being evil/world domination from the path of Evil." :/)

I don't understand why this manga is so idealistic when it's about a ninja world. Wtf, Kishi. - you know, I've been searching for the answer to this since--- well, since forever. Needless to say, I've not found it yet. :|

12 hours? O__O I don't know if that's a good or bad thing<33 It'd probably have been a bad thing, if I didn't stay awake most nights. I guess, in a way, our timings match<33
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[User Picture]From: mikochan_noda
2010-12-26 01:22 pm (UTC)
oh what are you saying? i'm weak for wonderful fics and this one brings a lot of imagery that i'm in ♥

the true reason why i rarely write canon = totally hard to correlate it with uchiha sasuke's mind set. but the way you've wrote his inevitable defeat, of a coming back home because he is tired of all the blood that he had surrounded himself with. ;A; poor boy, all he really needs is a place for him.

and squeee! you wrote some tsunade -sakura mentor love here. :D i truly loved it, and this pink-haired woman omg, the thing about You cast them on yourself sometimes.. made my heart break. oh sakura!

many thank yous and greetings to you. oh god, i think i have to crank up my gear and write i've been dawdling far too long, and this is one of the many wonderful wake-up calls i've ever had. thank you. ♥
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-26 11:32 pm (UTC)
Wahhh~ mikochan, I'm so glad you like the imagery ;__; - that was the toughest part of it♥ I thought you might like something descriptive but I couldn't figure out how to stray away from typical metaphors/adjectives at all. DX

Relating to Sasuke's mindset right now is indeed a pain. DX The way I see it now is "Crazy, crazy--- what're you thinking?" and then, "Oh wait, he isn't thinking. :/"

(lol, the way I wrote him? lol, so glad it worked for you, mikochan. I love making Sasuke suffer. And I love writing about his features. >.>;;)

poor boy, all he really needs is a place for him. - ;__; why do you say it so well? And why does Sasuke not realize this. Silly boy. excuse me while I bawl :'(

Tsunade-Sakura is one of the most underrated teacher-student relationships out there. Seriously. Tsunade was an unexpected addition (I found myself writing about her, just like that) but decided to keep her because the chance to explore the teacher-student relationship was just to alluring. That it makes you go :D makes me go :D, too. And I tried to make Sakura as real as possible~ so glad you like it!

Yesyesyes! Go on~ write! I hope the wake-up call was refreshing enough. XD We'll be getting a chapter of The Conspiracy sometimes in the near future, yes? *__*
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From: sirona_gs
2010-12-26 03:23 pm (UTC)
I've already told you how much I adore this, and I think you're being too modest -- the story is all YOU, I just did a little tweaking and helped polish it so it shone, but the writing, the beauty you've coaxed out of simple syllables and letters, that's all your own achevement, and you shouldn't sell yourself short, because you are a wonderful, wonderful writer, and you have the power to leave me in awe just by reading what you've put down on the page.

♥!
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-26 11:36 pm (UTC)
O___O
.
.
.
→ 8D

you have no idea how much you've mae me smile/squee in the last few days. 'Twas a merry Christmas, indeed.♥
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[User Picture]From: keysotosoto129
2010-12-27 01:21 am (UTC)
Beautiful. I love how you went so in-depth into the characters. Truly beautiful <3
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-27 12:51 pm (UTC)
In-depth? Oh god. Thank you<33 That you think that makes me grin~!♥
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[User Picture]From: keysotosoto129
2010-12-27 11:20 pm (UTC)
Sure, dearest! Like I said, simply beautiful <3 Would like to read more by you as well.
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-31 08:35 pm (UTC)
I have no idea when I'll get the chance to write more, given that the next few months look particularly busy but I'll try, definitely! 8D

Happy New Year, darling!♥
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[User Picture]From: keysotosoto129
2011-01-01 03:05 am (UTC)
I understand :) Any free time is a blessing!

And a very happy New Year to you as well <3
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[User Picture]From: bunnynumber13
2010-12-27 04:07 pm (UTC)
I'm speechless. This is a beautiful character piece. Your descriptions are superb and your understanding of Sakura's character is amazing. :)
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-27 07:37 pm (UTC)
Aww, thank you~♥ I've taken a liking to writing character pieces lately and writing this one was... a very different experience, definitely. Descriptions were the hardest part of this, but um, Sakura was surprisingly easy to write. O:

Thank you so much for the lovely comment~!
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[User Picture]From: fade_in2_dreams
2010-12-28 07:45 am (UTC)
why is this too damn perfect . This is probably one of the best pieces I've read so far in the fandom, everything about it is just amazing. From the pov from which is written, the imagery, and that lovely dream-quality it has...it's just perfect. thanks for sharing <3
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-28 01:32 pm (UTC)
O///O


I'm--- I mean, nobody's ever called my writing perfect before, so um. jdsfblbagkfgn. THANK YOU. & hearts. Lots of them. 8D

Imagery was definitely the hardest part of this--- some sentences got a little too purple at times, which almost gave me a heart attack because they were imperative if I was ever going to achieve that dream-quality.

That was what I was going for, actually: time passing by like a dream. I'm so glad you picked up on it! ;__; My mission has been accomplished. :D
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[User Picture]From: fade_in2_dreams
2010-12-28 03:54 pm (UTC)
& you succeeded wonderfully! It was a treat to read! You deserve all the compliments you can get :)
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-31 08:32 pm (UTC)
Lol~! You're making me blush. Happy New Year, darling!! :D
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[User Picture]From: unicorn_paige
2010-12-28 07:01 pm (UTC)
Damn. Just damn.

I love that touch of surrealism that the second person POV gives to this. Absolutely wonderful! And I really enjoyed the glimpses of Sakura and Tsunade's relationship. This line, especially:

You realize that Tsunade does do it on purpose – dishing out tough love because she has tough luck and nothing has ever really gone her way; she isn’t about to let you follow in her footsteps and develop blisters on your feet because you’re still too young, her eyes say.

Sasuke's return in the beginning was really great, too. I'm glad you showed that and then backed up and switched into Sakura's POV. It really tied it all together at the end.

Beautiful story!
Memming ♥
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-29 12:11 am (UTC)
Aww, thank you~♥ I have no idea where the second person POV came from - I was writing before I knew it and when I looked back, major panic ensued because, "damn it, just how often is 2nd person POV even written" and "what were you thinking, brain? D:"

But I guess braving the possibility of potential "What. What is that even supposed to be. Are you seriously writing this." reactions were worth it<33 I'm glad it worked for this piece, and bought that, uh, ~surreal~ feel to it as well./relieved

Tsunade-Sakura mentor-student relationship is something I've always wanted to explore - because in that respect even Lee and Gai get more spotlight and they're not even main characters. Kishimoto treats his women excellently, doesn't he? :/

I'm so glad that Sasuke's scene worked for you - before sirona_gs got to it, it was horrible. ;__; Sakura's POV was easier to write.

It really tied it all together at the end. - Since there's a conclusive tone to it, so I probably won't turn this into a multi-chapter, as I had originally planned. Or maybe I will - the prospect sounds very tempting right about now. XD

Thank you again for the mems and the lovely comment~♥ :D

P.S. I was wondering if you'd mind being friends? I see you around the sasusaku community a lot and after skimming through your writings, I can only say I like how simple and straightforward it is♥ So how about it? :D
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[User Picture]From: unicorn_paige
2010-12-31 06:56 pm (UTC)
Definitely worth it! I thought you wrote second POV beautifully. ^_^

Ugh, yeah. Kishimoto's frustrating when it comes to his female characters. I especially hate the way he treats Sakura. He's given her so much potential, but he doesn't use it! Gah, drives me nutters!

Ha-ha, well if you do decide to turn it into a multi-chapter, I'm sure it'll be great! You've set up a really interesting beginning to a Sasuke returns fic. ♥

Daww, shucks! I'd love to be friends. ^///^
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[User Picture]From: indira14
2010-12-31 08:31 pm (UTC)
Sakura--- ;__; I feel so sorry for her, poor girl. You're so right: Kishimoto has given her so much potential (hell, he's given her the strength of a dinosaur, dammit) and yet, all she seems to be good for is crying and being helpless and generally failing (and not even in the adorable way that Hinata fails. Kishimoto has issues with Sakura, definitely). >8(

I want the Sakura that Grandma Chiyo saw so much potential in, the Sakura that showed Sasori just who was boss and the Sakura that was Naruto's rock when he broke down crying. But, le sigh. :'(

2010 has certainly not been the kindest year to Sakura at all. :/

We'll see about the continuation~ XD I hope things go well for you this year, paige, because my New Year was definitely full of sparkles~

Happy New Year!♥
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[User Picture]From: unicorn_paige
2010-12-31 09:53 pm (UTC)
Seriously! There was nothing more satisfying than the beginning of Part 2, when Sakura was confident and ready to face a fight.

And what especially bothered me was how the T7 reunion concluded and how Sakura ended up just feeling inferior to Naruto and Sasuke. What happened to the headstrong girl who took care of her boys in the FoD? Even when she knew she was no match for her enemy? I just feel like Sakura would always fight for her boys and not step aside and see what happens...

Yeah, 2010 has seen a lot of ups and downs in the manga (mainly downs). D;

HAPPY NEW YEAR! ^_^
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From: hesifuss
2011-04-09 09:41 pm (UTC)
Beneficial info and excellent design you got here! I want to thank you for sharing your ideas and putting the time into the stuff you publish! Great work!

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[User Picture]From: indira14
2011-07-12 02:42 am (UTC)
Ahh, thank you, I guess. Looking back on this piece I wonder what the hell I was thinking when I wrote it. XD
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From: cateagove
2011-11-01 10:19 am (UTC)
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