The Dance of Deconstruction
The bridge groaned under the weight of their exchange. Sakura moved like a blur of pink and white, her movements stripped of all hesitation. Each time her fist struck the stone or Sasuke's guard, the impact sent a shockwave through the air, but the true damage was internal.
Every time she saw his face—the cold, angular features of the boy she had once adored—it felt like a fresh needle piercing her heart. The "wall" she was building wasn't a shield against pain; it was a dam, holding back a flood of agony that threatened to drown her. To keep the wall standing, she had to strike harder.
Sasuke drew his Kusanagi blade, the steel whistling as it sliced the air. He lunged, a lethal thrust aimed at her shoulder, but Sakura didn't retreat. She stepped into his guard, grazing the blade with her side to deliver a concentrated chakra-enhanced punch to his chest.
"You're wide open!" she screamed, her voice cracking with the strain of holding her emotions at bay.
Sasuke coughed, the air leaving his lungs as he was sent skidding back. His eyes bled into the Mangekyō Sharingan. "Enough of this," he growled.
Purple ribs of ethereal chakra began to manifest around him—the beginnings of Susanoo. The pressure was immense, crushing the very air out of Sakura's lungs. The sight of it—this ultimate manifestation of his hatred—was the final brick in her wall. She realized he was willing to use a god-killing power on the girl who used to bring him flowers.
The pain reached a crescendo, a blinding white heat in her chest that felt like her heart was physically tearing in two. As she charged one last time, her fist glowing with a terrifying amount of chakra, she wasn't just trying to hit him; she was trying to break the bond that was killing her.
Just as the purple fist of the Susanoo swung forward and Sakura's chakra-laden strike accelerated toward it, two shadows blurred into the center of the bridge.
"Sakura, stop!"
Naruto slammed into the space between them, his hand catching Sakura's wrist. The force of her momentum nearly threw him off balance, his eyes wide with horror at the raw, jagged energy she was radiating. Simultaneously, Kakashi appeared in front of Sasuke, his Raikiri active not to attack, but to parry the Susanoo's crushing blow.
The collision of forces created a vacuum of sound before exploding outward, shattering the remaining railings of the bridge.
Naruto held onto Sakura's arm, his voice trembling. "Sakura-chan... your hand... you're shaking."
Sakura didn't look at Naruto. She was staring at the ground, her breathing ragged. A single, heavy tear finally escaped, hitting the dust—the last one she would allow herself for a long time.
"Let go, Naruto," she said. Her voice was no longer sarcastic or angry. It was flat. Empty. "He made his choice. I've finally made mine."
Kakashi, standing guard between his two students, looked back at Sakura over his shoulder. He saw the wound on her shoulder and the hollow look in her eyes, and for the first time, the legendary copy-ninja felt a chill of genuine failure. The Team 7 bond hadn't just cracked; it had been pulverized.
Sasuke stood amidst his purple shroud, looking at the three of them like they were insects. "You should have stayed out of this, Kakashi. She was finally becoming interesting in her despair."
To be continued