A blurb. One shot. Experiment outline for a longer, "real" story I have been puttering with. You know, with dialogue and possibly even PLOT. Horrors. In the meantime, enjoy the proffered hors d'oevre. Or however you spell it. LeeSaku, just because I felt Lee needed a little lovin'. I'll get back to you on that longer one later.
Strength
by the SkItZ
Sakura has seen strong people. They surround her, challenge her, irritate her, joke with her, inspire her. She has seen fights that shake the earth and change the landscape, seen techniques and abilities that make her stare in wonder and disbelief. She has watched the men and women around her in battle and in peace performing astonishing feats of physical and mental strength.
But he is the only one she thinks is truly strong. His strength goes beyond physical strength (though he has that in almost inhuman quantities). He is the only person she knows with an inner strength that matches the outer. He is the only man she knows who can maintain self-control and discipline and yet still be free to laugh, to hope.
He is the only man who is strong enough to love her.
She's a difficult woman, and she knows it. Her early years of isolation and rejection from the other kids in her neighborhood and school had given her a self-esteem complex that at first had centered around her appearance and later around her abilities as a ninja. Her life had otherwise remained largely unburdened until she was twelve, when it had spiraled straight down into a drama worthy of many television soap operas. Rejected again by someone she loved, left alone in the dark without so much as a goodbye had reopened old wounds, brought the paranoia out on the surface in full force. For years afterwards, she had struggled with it, alternately clinging to the people still in her life and pushing them away in an instinctive attempt to leave them before they could leave her.
He puts up with it, smiling when she comes to him, keeping the frown carefully hidden when she leaves again. She cries on him from time to time, and when the tears are spent and she is left feeling lighter and calmer, he wipes her eyes, smiles, and lets her walk away from him. And when they meet again she smiles and talks to him but it goes no further, because she knows he pities her, and pity is a bad basis for a relationship. And he never pushes her, never asks for more than she gives on her own.
But there is only so much a man can take, so often he can be used – even willingly – before the hurt of it works too deeply into his heart. And one day, when he comes to her door and smiles and tells her one final time that he loves her, she knows that time has come. He stands there with his hands hanging loosely at his sides, body relaxed and smile calm and gentle. But his voice is too careful, his eyes already suspiciously bright as he watches her take in his words. She knows also that he is at last pushing her, forcing her to make a decision because until now she has been able to ignore his unspoken offer.
He won't vanish out of her life; he is after all not a man who goes back on a promise. But as he stands on her door and waits for the inevitable rejection, she knows that this is the last time he will seek her out. He has put his heart in her hands now, completely and fully, and all it will take is one word to break it once and for all. And he expects her to break it, is waiting quietly for the brief and final end.
She stares at him, and wonders at his strength. She knows, from painful personal experience, how hard it is to put yourself into the hands of another, and she knows how it feels to have them toss you back with mild contempt.
But that isn't a good enough reason to love someone – merely because you know how much they want you to. Pity is a bad basis for a relationship.
So she just stares at him, not wanting to break him, terrified to push him away and equally afraid to let him in. And seeing her expression he sighs softly, leans forward, and kisses her forehead. "It's okay," he whispers. "Good night."
He walks down the street and around the corner, head up and fists relaxed. She watches him go with a strange sort of tearing in her heart, and knows he will always be the strongest person she has ever known.
It takes her a week to realize that she doesn't pity him. It takes her three more days to realize that he has never pitied her. All the times he's listened to her pains and problems, all the times she's told him her nightmares, the times he's squeezed her shoulder and told her she's safe with him, and the times she's smiled or brought him little gifts – it's never been about pity between them.
At the end of those ten days, she finally understands that while pity is a terrible basis for a relationship, respect is a damn good one.
And so is love.
It takes her three hours to find him, because it is raining today, hard, and he isn't in the normal field where he spends hours knocking trees down and shattering boulders. He's on the cliffs towering above the village, eyes closed as he balances on the slippery rock. She watches for a long time, unnoticed, as he flows through the various poses and movements of his already legendary taijutsu. He moves so fluidly, so beautifully, that the graceful power of it catches her breath in her throat.
She waits until he has both feet firmly on the ground, body motionless and eyes still closed.
He senses her presence an instant before she touches him. His startled eyes take in her disheveled appearance, her sopping wet clothes that cling to her body, and he opens his mouth to say something, probably ask her why she is there.
She puts her fingers to his lips to still them, and smiles. "Because I love you," she says simply.
And that's all he's ever needed to hear from her.
Neither of them really knows what to do now. He never expected her to actually come to him, and she's still afraid. It's raining so hard now that they can barely see a few feet in front of them.
But she winds her fingers through his, noting the strength in his hands, his body, his heart, and they know that the sun will be out soon.