#and sasuke who break away from traditional femininity is just so... beautiful

[ladsofsorrow24]

yuri sasunaru... based of this very nice fic by @greatloverslieinhell

[tranquil-turbulence]

Hanami

Happy birthday, Sakura!

This could be read in whoever’s POV you want it to be (except Sasuke’s, of course).

Summary:

It’s Sakura’s twenty-first birthday, and a certain someone has some thoughts.

Rating: K+

Warning(s): None

The blossoms are almost in bloom, and as a certain someone stood underneath the lights with sake in hand, their mind wandered to a woman of the same name.

The pink-haired woman, so delicate like her namesake, yet tough as the rock she could break with a finger alone. Short rosy hair, greasy and unkempt more often than not, stubborn green eyes, so wizened by war and blood and death, a dainty nose that had been broken and reset too many times to count, a pair of pretty pink lips, so easily chapped and cracked by hours of overwork - brought together by the soft minty diamond she bore in the center of her forehead, the proud result of years of hard work and determination. That face that so haunted their dreams, the face of a girl too stubborn to give up, the face of someone they loved as dearly as themself - that was what hope looked like. She was the hope of Konoha.

Children idolized her. Peers admired her. The elders respected her. Tsunade's youngest apprentice and the heir to her Seal of a Thousand Strengths walked with her shoulders squarely set and her head high, with the poise of someone who had, even through years of insecurity and doubt, come to love themself just as they loved others.

She turned, then, at the fringes of the party, and smiled their way. The sweetest of pinks dusted her cheeks, her eyes softening with happiness upon just seeing them there. The ruby dress she wore glittered and sparkled under the lights, hugging her closely above before falling away and draping along the floor in crisp folds below.

She was beautiful.

They smiled her way in return, and as they turned they caught a glimpse of the happiness that pervaded her expression. The drink she held in her hand, still unsipped, bubbled and cast hues of red along her arms as she lifted it higher to clank against another glass.

She may not have been the most well-endowed, but nobody could say she wasn't a paragon of stature. Her years working under the Fifth Hokage's tutelage had left her with muscled arms and sculpted legs, a toned physique that many kunoichi - and shinobi alike - envied. Yet despite this, she held onto a special touch of traditional femininity - whether it was the clear tones of her voice or the gentle grasp of her hands to the radiance in her smile, she remained one of the most beautiful young women in the village.

Indeed, she was greatly sought after - much like her peers, of course, but not just among civilians of Konoha, who upheld her as an inspiration and a paragon of what sheer will and determination could get you. Those she had helped during the war sought after her too, men and women from other nations who begged to even leave a scratch on her heart. A foolish endeavor it was, but she remained graceful about it, gently turning them down and encouraging them to look elsewhere. At the age of twenty-one, now, her heart still longed for only one - and who were they to believe otherwise?

They considered themself lucky, then; though their love remained what it was, she still treated them like a friend despite what they might have felt. If she noticed, she never gave them a clue.

She laughed, then - and they caught the merry tones of it even from as far away as they were as she talked with one of her friends from the Academy. Just imagining her the way she was not even a decade ago was a harsh juxtaposition against the woman she had blossomed into. Still pretty, yet flighty and unskilled, her intelligence being one of her only virtues as she fruitlessly chased after Sasuke much like everyone else her age; if she only could have learnt who she had become, perhaps that would have provided her the necessary burst of hope to endure?

No, they decided. Sakura needed no more hope than she carried. She always had endured, no matter what life had thrown at her. That was one of the many things they admired of her, and it was one of her greatest virtues.

Just this last year, she had worked her ass off just to open a clinic for the children of their village; not just the orphaned ones, but those who had been severely traumatized from the war. If their admiration for her hadn't been high before, truly this would have been the point where they began to respect her character. Sakura had always had a soft spot for the children, and seeing them clamor about her like excited puppies made their heart soften, if not just a bit.

Konohagakure's cherry blossom was not only beautiful, but deadly to those who crossed her. Tsunade often bragged of how well she'd trained her up, how she had been able to save so many people where she herself could not. She prized Sakura as one prizes a rare jewel, having polished and cut it until its luster and shape spoke to the beauty of the gem and the skill of the jeweler. People, shinobi and civilian alike, flocked to the village just to meet her, from traveling medics who wanted to learn from her to clansmen who sought her to train up apprentices from their own family lines.

Already she had a special apprentice in mind - a shy wallflower from Earth country, the birthplace of her grandparents, from a poor civilian family that begged her for her gift - whether the child reminded her of her own past or she took pity for the family who had used their last savings to get to Konoha, none knew. But she saw the child's excellence in chakra control and agreed to train him up, opening her arms - and her home - to them in the meantime.

There was no ring on her finger, not that there ever would be, yet the crest on her back told the world what it wanted to know anyway. The clanless civilian girl, now grown into a mighty woman, had married the one whom her heart yearned for - and though rumors spread fast, she held her head high as she always did, even as she could be seen with her infant daughter and husband around the village. While Konoha was still frosty towards the last Uchiha, many kept their tongues silent because of Sakura's legacy and reputation. There were many who believed she deserved a better name, and even the Hyuuga had sent proposals of marriage her way, yet she stubbornly refused. She took his name proudly even when there was nothing to gain from it, even when he might have been content with her keeping hers. The new matriarch of the fallen clan might have been one of the only things keeping the Uchiha name alive in the hearts and minds of the people - and they admired her determination to turn things around in the spirit of Konoha.

Now, though, as they sipped their drink and stared her way, they wished they could have gotten to her first. They wished they could have been the one to hold her heart before she had her eyes set on the Uchiha, back when times were uncertain and she might have been swayed onto a more willing target. Even now they stared his way in envy, wondering what he had that she wanted so badly - yet they didn't dare ask, knowing that she would say the same thing she always had: "Sasuke-kun is Sasuke-kun, and that's all I need."

Why did she treat him like a treasured lover? They were never intimate in public, not that anyone knew - they always stayed half a foot apart in the markets, even while she held her baby girl in her arms. Though she looked his way, he hardly returned them - though the blush on her face made some think otherwise. Even her daughter's name, Sarada, bore the kanji from both of their names, plus another. Whatever love she gave him, they were convinced it was ill-returned, even now.

Speaking of her family, her daughter's squalling caught her attention at once, and she gave her drink to a friend before hurrying off to her mother, where she accepted the girl and began to coo soft things to her. The jet-black hair of the infant contrasted with her pale skin nicely, and if they had to admit it, the Uchiha's genes paired well enough with hers. Sarada's eyes, identical to her father's (or what they had been before the war), only soured their feelings of the man. Whatever Sakura gave, they were convinced it was too much - and she was receiving too little in return.

They sighed quietly, sipping their drink once more as, speak of the devil himself, Uchiha Sasuke walked up to his wife with an unreadable, blank expression. He reached out for his daughter, and her chubby little hand caught his finger, making the women present laugh. Sakura looked radiant as she giggled at the both of them, her eyes shining bright with love for her husband. There was something they could not place in her gaze, something deeply intimate that they felt embarrassed to see.

Taking another swig and turning to refill their glass, they glanced her way one last time to see Sasuke's face soften towards her as Sakura said something to him.

Despite their unrequited love for her, they would continue to cheer her on and support her. No matter the man she married, they would always be there should she need them. And for now, that was enough.