6. things you said under the stars and in the grass
The first time Sakura and Ino lay under the stars it’s winter and the two of them really have no business being outside in the dead of night. Sakura can’t remember how old they were, but Ino had wanted to go and Sakura remembers their friendship being too new for Sakura to even think of jeopardizing it. Little Sakura only points out that it’s particularly cold before allowing Ino to sneak them outside under Sakura’s parents’ noses. They end up wearing only their winter coats over their pajamas, legs and feet bare. The two girls lie spread eagle, shivering and cold, with their breath puffing above them, out in Sakura’s backyard staring up at the clear sky where there’s nothing but stars for as far as Sakura can see.
It’s not very far. The house, the trees, and the fence limit the scope of Sakura’s vision. It’s still the most exciting sight in her short life.
It’s even more exciting when Ino reaches between them and grabs Sakura’s hand.
“Let’s stay friends forever, ‘kay?”
Even though Ino’s tone is anything but, her words seems weightier in the night with only Sakura and the stars to hear her. More meaningful. Personal. Especially because there had been nothing but silence between the two of them. It fills Sakura with a pleased warmth from head to toe despite the cold.
Eventually, Sakura makes a noise that might be an affirmative. It’s mostly a noiseless squeak. She grips Ino’s hand tighter then chokes out a quiet, “'Kay.”
There’s a few more times after that, that Sakura doesn’t quite remember. Quiet nights in the grass with only the two of them and the stars. No words or promises. Just existing side by side.
It’s the most serene and content Sakura remembers feeling for a long time.
Sakura breaks off their friendship, declaring herself Ino’s rival, and wonders the whole time just why–but she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t hesitate.
They don’t have quiet nights under the stars anymore, after that.
Sakura is the one to mend their friendship, too. It’s her responsibility, after all, since she is the one who broke it. Over a boy who had never once given her even the smallest slice of day, of all things.
It’s rocky, at first. Which is only to be expected. They’ve both grown up. Not apart, not really, just different. There’s old pieces of each of them that still fit together. But there’s new ones, too, that have never fit together. Never had a chance to.They make it work. Through shopping and sleep overs, just like old times. Through rigorous training and Ino drilling thousands and thousands of medical factoids into Sakura’s head or Sakura helping Ino practicing navigating the human psyche, just like new times.
The quiet nights under the stars in the grass return, too. Though now they are not always so quiet. Sometimes there are soft voices. Quiet confessions, fears, and clouds of words that simply feel wrong said under the light of day. Reassurances, comforting nonsense, and unwavering support spill here, as well.
It’s still the same, however, as much as it has changed. Still a haven of serenity, of contentedness. Still something weighty, if unspoken. Still Sakura’s most precious moments. (And, perhaps she’ll never know, but they’re Ino’s, too.)
“Don’t let those boys be the death of you, okay?” murmurs Ino.
Ino’s voice is casual but when Sakura shifts her head to look at the blonde beside her Ino doesn’t move to meet her gaze. Sakura’s lips press together and she says nothing as she watches the blankness of Ino’s face.
Neither of them should be here: lying on muddy, bloody dirt and watching the stars. Not when they’re needed but…Ino had come into her tent and looked at her and Sakura had seen the same desperation holding her own bones together reflected in Ino’s blue eyes and blurted out, “Five minutes. We can afford five minutes.”
Sakura has never been good at denying Ino much at all, really.
Except when it counted most, Sakura thinks as she looks away. Says nothing, still.
Sakura’s older, wiser and stronger, and she knows her self worth and knows some people weren’t worth it but–
Somewhere inside she’ll always be a twelve-year-old girl chasing after a fractured idea of a team. Of a family. That maybe could have stayed together had she just been…more.
So she says nothing even as Ino laughs. It’s a watery sound.
The words so quiet that the silence between them is not disturbed so much as changed.
The silence reigns in Sakura’s mind, on her tongue and in the burning of her eyes and the tightness of her chest.
Ino says no more. Makes no more noise. Sakura wonders if she is crying as much as Sakura herself.
In five minutes the two of them go back to war.–
Later, much later, after everything–surviving, winning, and putting themselves back together–Sakura sneaks into Ino’s home (as much as one ninja can sneak into another ninja’s home when they’re expected) with apology chocolates and the two of them lay out in Ino’s yard. In the grass. Under the stars.
This time it is Sakura who reaches between them. She grasps Ino’s hand, her thumb running across the back of it.
“I love you, too, you know,” Sakura declares. Loudly and boldly disturbing the quiet with her words.
Ino laughs, startled but happy. It’s the most beautiful and joyful sound Sakura has ever heard. The pink-haired girl vows to make Ino laugh more like that as the two of them shift closer, pressing together and sharing kisses under the starlight.
(It is far from the last time–for kisses, laughs, or words of love.)