Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Pre-Game: The Prologue

Sakura stares at her phone, waiting for an indication that the universe is playing some sort of cruel joke on her, and that her boyfriend of three years—ex-boyfriend now, actually—hadn’t just broken up with her via text message. She rereads it again, her face neutral, because she’d be damned if her resident nemesis-turned-icy-roommate saw her cry:

“I met someone else. I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

Sasuke was never one to avoid ripping the conversational band-aid, but fucking seriously, Sakura inwardly seethed. After three years, a text message? And he knew she had a quiz in the morning, a quiz that she should be studying for instead of obsessing over this damn text. She had half a mind to storm across campus and beat his door down—

Her gaze shifts to Ino, who is eyeing Sakura suspiciously. She pulls her platinum blonde hair into her infamous high ponytail without batting a lash, “I thought you had a thing early tomorrow?”

Sakura’s tempted to say something snarky in response, but she settles for flatly responding, “Yeah, I was about to go to sleep. Have fun.”

Ino focuses on the mirror, adjusting the buttons on her jumper. “Thanks,” she stuffs her lanyard with her key-pass into her pocket, not sparing another glance as she leaves.

After the door closes, Sakura huffs loudly. Who parties on a Wednesday? Who leaves for a Wednesday party at eleven o’clock at night? Sakura clicks out of her messages, opening the app to her email and snuggling further into her comforter. More bad news: Sakura’s RA is unsympathetic to her plight of sharing a room with someone who has despised her since the third grade.

“‘Try and get along,’” Sakura mocks, quickly growing frustrated as she opens and closes her socials. Her feeds were all littered with excited freshmen, staged photos of beautiful people enjoying their college debut. Was Sasuke out with a girl like them? If Sakura had been prettier, if she had been more fun, happier—If he had dumped her without that first sentence, even in a text, would she have felt this peach-pit sized ball of rage in her gut? Misty-eyed with her frustration in knowing that Sasuke is the ass and not the peppy girls on her Instagram feed, Sakura scrolls over to her games and notices a new app: Root, with a small leaf design.

Sakura clicks on it, her other hand roughly wiping away a stray tear. The app updates for a few moments, and Sakura waits, absently wondering whether she should change her relationship status or leave it for him. She can’t dwell for long; once the app is finished, it launches, and she’s quickly distracted by a cute blond boy on the screen.

“Are you ready?” he shouts, the sudden volume surprising Sakura. He’s handsome, giant black and orange jumper aside, and Sakura likes his cheerful exuberance.

When the start button flashes on screen, Sakura selects it, an amused smile on her lips.

“Believe it!” The boy cheers.

“Cute,” Sakura says, pausing to skim a dialogue box asking her to agree to the ‘Terms and Conditions of Use.’ Sakura hits ‘agree’ and the app loads the main menu.

It’s a series of files, some of which she skims, about a village and its politics. Every link leads her down a rabbit hole of other links—Konohagakure, Hokage, Shinobi, all words she’d never heard before. Her eyes grow heavy, lashes fluttering shut and her phone flopping unceremoniously to the side as she drifts off.

♡ ♥ ♡

Sakura wakes up in a bedroom, but certainly not the cramped dorm she shares with Ino. Neither of them had filled out a roommate request form—Ino’s female friends went out of state, and Sakura had always been a loner besides Sasuke—so they were stuck with each other in a room half the size of Sakura’s bedroom at home. Even still, this room is a far cry from the pastel pink theme of her own bedroom. This room is all sleek angles and beautiful wood, a soft bed with sheer pink draperies around it, targets lined up across the wall with weapons hanging nearby on wooden racks, and tidy scrolls tucked by the corner of a large desk.

Sakura marvels. She’s never been in a lucid dream, not that she can remember anyway, and she runs her hand over the handle of a polished sword.

“Please start your dialogue with ‘Sai’ if you need access to the guide,” a voice mumbles to her right.

Sakura yelps, turning to find a young man dressed in all black sitting on the floor, back propped against the wall, “Who the hell are you?!”

“My name is Sai. If you need to reference the guide mid-game, please look at me directly and speak or begin the sentence with ‘Sai’ to temporarily phase out NPC awareness.” He stands up and moves to sit at the edge of her bed, a thin smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his dark eyes. He tilts his head at her, “You look frightened. There is no need to be.”

“Uh,” Sakura pauses, unable to think of a proper response. What did he mean, mid-game? NPCs?

“Earth to Sakura Haruno, come in Sakura Haruno.” Sai leans forward expectantly. “This is called a joke, you are meant to find it amusing and be set at ease.”

“Where am I? And what’s going on?” Sakura feels her panic rise, “What do you mean ‘game?’ I’m dreaming, right? Tell me I’m dreaming.”

“Sort of,” Sai tuts at her. “Didn’t you read the Terms and Conditions of Use?”

“The what?”

“The Terms,” Sai raises a brow at her, the pause pregnant with his expectation of her understanding. “You know, the ones you agreed to when you opened the app.”

Sakura squints at him, “Did I die? Am I in Hell?”

“Of course you aren’t dead,” Sai rolls his eyes. “You’re in the app. Hell is objective, and I’m not coded to recognize religion, but nonetheless you’re the one who agreed to play the game.”

“I didn’t agree to play any game,” Sakura bellows, yanking the covers off to get out of bed and put some distance between them. “Send me home right now!”

“You did agree,” Sai says slowly, his brow knit in annoyance with her, “I have made it very clear; Sakura Haruno agreed to the Terms and Conditions of Use, and had you read them, which it’s evident that you didn’t—”

“No one reads those,” Sakura snaps, skulking to the window. “And how do you know my name?”

Sai raises his voice in return, ignoring her question, “Had you read them, you’d understand that you’ll appear in the game every night, as you sleep, until you beat it.”

Sakura hesitates, half-tempted to denounce this as some nightmare fueled by her real-world anxieties and half-curious, “What… exactly does beating the game entail?”

Sai resumes his fake smile, any hint of his irritation gone, “To beat the game, you must complete all of the playable routes. Since you didn’t read the Terms, I’ll assume you didn’t read any of the source material when you opened the game.”

“I skimmed!”

Unimpressed, Sai goes on, “This place is your home village of Konohagakure, commonly called Konoha. It’s a shinobi or ninja village, where you along with many others work—in your case, as a kunoichi or female ninja, a subsection of the general term shinobi—to help protect this village and help its inhabitants. This is signified by the headband on the desk, which you wear to show allegiance to your particular village. Do you understand?”

“So far,” Sakura says, moving across the room to grab the headband. On the metal plate, that same symbol from the app icon is carved carefully—Now that she thinks of it, maybe the app got her full name from her phone data.

“The point of the game is to complete all the applicable routes, and a route is complete when the love interest genuinely confesses that they love you. If you concentrate, you can access your character’s knowledge of the history of this place and what knowledge your character has of its inhabitants, information normally accessible to you on the app when you’re awake. Focus on me, for example,” Sai puffs out his chest.

Sakura focuses on him and a text box appears: ‘Sai: your noble guide.’

“Who writes these?” Sakura complains, “This seems biased.”

“They start with the essential truths of the game, and expand as you have more experience with a character, place, idea, et cetera. It would be advantageous of you to learn the information as it becomes accessible to you. Anyway, when you go outside, you’re going to notice that certain characters have a heart symbol where their real heart would be. The color of the heart indicates romance points, or RP. There is no visual indicator for friendship points, or FP, but they also increase or decrease depending on your actions in the game. Right now, you are in a ‘neutral mode,’ but once you begin a route, only the romance-able character in that route will have a visible heart meter. The RP you earn will stay in that route, but you keep the FP even as you return to this ‘neutral mode,’ and it will make completing the rest of the game easier. All the characters start with small, gray hearts and as you increase their affection for you, they will change color—purple, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red—and once the heart is red, they will confess.”

“Sort of like Harvest Moon?”

“I don’t know what that is. So, you can select a route yourself when you are awake, on the app. You’re now free to roam the village.” Sai gives her a once-over, lips pulling in an unsubtle grimace, “I’ll leave you to change out of your pajamas.” He disappears with her next blink, leaving Sakura alone in the room.

Sakura hesitantly opens her closet, rummaging for something suitable for a fighter to wear. She settles on a red shirt with a thin circle outlined in white stitching on the back, a brown sporty skirt, and compression shorts for underneath. It was difficult to imagine a qualified ninja running around in most of her wardrobe, something she would have to amend—Would it be too much to ask for some leggings?

Sai is waiting for her on her front steps. “Now that you’re ready, please set your preferences for gender and sexuality. These preferences can be changed at any time, but should you choose a sexuality that excludes the current route you are in, you will exit that route and progress will be lost.”

Sakura presses one of the options that appear before her, she/her, and hesitates on sexuality. She’s only ever dated Sasuke—Did she want to try dating a woman? Did she really want her first time trying to be inside a game she was trapped in? She chooses heterosexual, figuring she can change her mind later if there’s a route she wants to play.

“Thank you. Rest assured, you can always quit a route and restart at a later date, and characters will not move forward without consent. It is possible to win the confession with no romantic moves on your part at all, through connection not based on physical means. How you choose to pursue the route is up to you, and generally you’ll be able to tell quite easily if you’ve done a bad job.”

“Great.” Sakura deadpans, “Can we just go?”

Konoha, the short form of Konohagakure, is bustling with friendly faces. Townsfolk mill about the shops, talking with one another and waving when they notice her.

She waves back, not wanting to seem rude. She starts to notice a few characters in passing with gray heart meters in front of their chests. She notices one in particular, a text box popping up: ‘Neji Hyūga.’ There’s no further information.

He’s tall, with brown hair long enough to be loosely tied around his mid-back, and unusual bright, moon pale eyes watching impassively as he deftly weaves through the crowd.

“Cute,” Sakura blurts, quickly averting her eyes when he sharply looks at her. When she firmly avoids his eye contact, he continues pointedly pushing through the crowd.

“Way to go, weirdo,” Sai says flatly.

“Oh, shut up,” Sakura scoffs at him. “He assumed I was talking about him anyway.”

“But you were.”

“Whatever! He’ll come around when I play his route.” Sakura spots a head of platinum blonde hair, styled in a high ponytail. “Ino?” She calls out, picking up speed. “Ino!”

Ino flicks baby blue eyes in Sakura’s direction, raising a brow.

“Are you trapped in this trippy shit too?” Sakura asks her as she approaches, “Are all these people trapped in here? Seriously, I thought I was fucking losing it ‘cause Sasuke broke up with me tonight.”

“Did you just say…?” Ino starts warily, “Sasuke broke up with you?”

“Is that seriously your hot take on this? Yeah, go get him, Jesus—”

“As if you could even get a date with Sasuke, forehead! That’ll be the day!” Ino guffaws at her, laughing so hard she has to wipe a tear from her eye.

Sakura stiffens, “You don’t have to be a dick about it. You’re not freaked out by all this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ino flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, “but I have places to be, so if you’ll excuse me…” She trails off, brushing past her.

Sakura recoils and sees Sai, sitting on a nearby bench to wait for her. She marches over to him, getting in his face, seething, “Alright, gonna explain that then?”

“As you’ve just noticed, you’re going to see familiar faces in this game. That’s the point. The men in the routes are going to love you deeply, but this isn’t the real world, Sakura.”

“And Sasuke’s here too,” Sakura says flatly.

“Not your Sasuke. This world’s Sasuke is a young avenger driven to kill his brother for the murder of his entire clan, about to run into the arms of a snake-themed narcissist bent on immortality so that Sasuke can train and become incredibly powerful.”

Sakura’s face twitches, “I—What the fuck?”

“Which part?”

“Okay, all of it, but Itachi would never—”

“Again, not your Itachi. His storyline is relatively complicated, politically and emotionally speaking. If you’d like to play his route…?”

“No! No, no, I really don’t need to woo my ex-boyfriend’s brother,” Sakura chortles.

“Even in a game, where they’re completely different people?”

Sakura snorts at him, “Better not.”

“But you have to play all the routes—”

“Even Itachi? This is fucking bull—”

“Even Sasuke, Sakura.”

Sakura goes beet red, so angry her ears ring, “Absolutely not. There is no way, not for anything—”

♡ ♥ ♡

Sakura’s phone alarm goes off and she sits up sharply, sucking in air. She pants, looking eagerly around the room. Thank god, she inwardly chants as she sees her messy clothes sprawled across her desk’s chair. Thank god for her tiny dorm—

“Sakura,” Ino groans, tossing one of her several pillows Sakura’s way, “turn your goddamn alarm off, I feel like shit!”

Thank god for her hungover roommate.  Sakura rolls her eyes with no malice as she turns her alarm off. Her phone’s almost dead, she fell asleep without charging it, but she quickly checks her apps and freezes. There it is, the tiny icon right in front of her on her screen. No way. No, it could just be a coincidence. A dream about something she noticed right before she went to bed. That isn’t too far-fetched.

She makes sure her phone is on silent, wary of the loud blond boy, and clicks the app. To her dismay, there he is, as cheerful as before. The screen loads to a collection of the articles she’d seen earlier, and a previously missing banner across the top of the screen that read ‘Routes.’ She clicks on it.

It’s a bunch of profiles, men abdomen up staring sternly at her through her screen. She scrolls to the right until she sees Sasuke and panics, quickly scrolling away. It couldn’t be true, to be trapped every night in some dating game with Sasuke. She has to get out of it, there has to be a way.

Sakura tries to uninstall the app, she tries resetting her phone, she tries to Google the problem, all with no success. She’s running out of time before she has to get out of bed and get ready for class. She tells herself to just pick one and get it over with. She isn’t ready to play his route, but the sooner she beats this damn game, the sooner she could exorcise him from her life.

With renewed spirit, she opens the app and heads right for the routes. There’s a button near the top, marked ‘Random.’ Alright, she muses, the odds of not getting Sasuke or Itachi are high. And if she does get them, well, wasn’t it so Sasuke-esque to rip the band-aid right off? She clicks the button, accepting her fate.

Her screen fades to black, white cursive scrawling across the screen to spell an unfamiliar name:

Gaara of the Desert.

An option appears to play the preview, but Sakura has to get going. She rushes out of bed, making it to her classroom in a hoodie and sweatpants, her pink hair sloppily tossed in a bun.

Sakura had done the reading in preparation for the quiz, but she’d have normally liked to have reviewed her notes. She can answer every question adequately, but she’s never been satisfied with adequate. Still, she can barely focus, thinking about that damn app. The moment class ends, she’s whipping out her phone, yanking her earbuds from her bag to play the—

Of course, her phone is dead. Why wouldn’t it be?

Grumpy, tired, Sakura slings her bag over her shoulder and heads straight for her dorm, ignoring a friendly face ready to joke about how difficult the quiz was. She doesn’t need forced peppiness, she needs a goddamn nap. But she knows what will come with sleep.

Ino is gone when Sakura returns to the dorm. If the path of clothes strewn on her side of the floor are any indication, she had dragged herself out of bed and rallied for her morning lecture. Perfect. Sakura plugs her phone in, flopping on her bed and waiting at her desk for it to charge enough to turn on.

Finally, finally, the screen glows brightly as it loads and Sakura heads for the preview of her first route. She turns her volume on for it, watching colors flash across the screen to reveal a vast desert at night. The shot zooms in rapidly, settling on a small boy, crying and alone on a moonlit rooftop. He’s surrounded with blood—not just that, he’s bleeding from cuts on his forehead so brightly crimson it’s like the color leaked right from his hair.

“Why?” his voice whimpers. “Yashamaru, why?!” Sand swirls around him, curling swiftly around his body as he forms a sort of shield.

Another voice answers off-screen, “I have always hated you, Gaara.”

The scene changes abruptly to a dainty tea shop. The same redhead is sitting, now a lean and sour looking young adult—handsome, but all scowls. Sakura reels when she sees herself, in the same outfit she was wearing in the dream, sitting there across from him. “Oh come on,” she hears herself say to Gaara, “just try it! I promise it’s good!”

Sakura sees herself fleeing through a forest with tree trunks as large as houses. She breathes heavily as she runs, weapons slicing through the air behind her. She rounds a corner and slams into a wall of sand.

“Sakura?” A hushed voice calls from behind the wall. It begins to dissipate, sucked back into the gourd strapped to Gaara’s back. He stands with his arms crossed, his neutral face touched by a hint of surprise.

Their eyes are locked. Gaara’s sand snatches a weapon flung through the air, aimed for Sakura. The moment is broken, and Sakura leaps to her feet to flee.

“You don’t understand.” Gaara mumbles as the screen goes dark, “Sakura, I’m a monster.”

There are wild swirls of sand on screen, stained with blood, the flash of a giant creature made of sand and then a heavily bruised Sakura unconscious on the ground. “Sakura,” a frenzied voice calls from the mass of sand. “Sakura!” The screen goes dark again. “I—What have I done?”

Lulled with her worries about the video, Sakura nestles in her bed as her phone charges, her eyes heavy from her restless night.

♡ ♥ ♡

Sakura wakes up in a field, the sunshine harsh on her face.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route One: Gaara of the Desert - Purple Heart

“Sakura-a-a!” A loud voice calls out, the blond man bounding up to her. “We were invited to compete in the Chūnin Exams! Can you believe it?”

Sakura is stunned into silence. This is the guy from the loading screen! Tall, tan, the biggest smile in the world—Sakura inwardly takes a note to play this route ASAP. His tag pops into her field of vision: Naruto Uzumaki, with bio information that she doesn’t have a moment to read. 

He yanks her up from the ground and squishes her into a hug. Err—maybe this one could wait a bit. “We have to become Chūnin together! We’ll pass no matter what!” 

“You’re crushing me!” Sakura writhes in his grasp. As he lets her go, Sakura is surprised to see another dialogue box pop up—The Chūnin Exams: a complicated series of tests, both mental and physical, designed to evaluate the ninja of the various shinobi villages. Held quarterly. 

“Idiot, stop,” Sasuke walks up, swatting Naruto on the arm. 

Sakura cringes. Sasuke, already? His appearance distracts her. That shirt, with its ridiculous collar, couldn’t be fashionable here, could it? Why was his hair gelled back that way? As Naruto releases her, Sakura blurts, “Arm warmers?”

Sasuke and Naruto both stare at her for a few seconds, before Sasuke mumbles, “So?”

“We have to go meet Kakashi-sensei!” Naruto brushes Sakura’s odd behavior off, running toward the village.

“Er, hey! Wait up!” Sakura takes off after him and Sasuke follows at a short distance, fiddling with his arm warmers.

As the group enters the town, they’re approached by a trio of children, who are joking and playing with Naruto. Text boxes appear, identifying them as three local children who aspire to be shinobi: Konohamaru, Moegi, and Udon. Sakura finds herself zoning out, wondering how exactly she was supposed to romance a man she has not yet met. 

Sakura is pulled back into the conversation by raised voices. Naruto is feuding with… a man dressed for Halloween, in a black hooded cat-suit and purple face paint? And behind him is… Temari? Sakura nearly chokes on her saliva, stopping herself from calling her out by name. The real Temari, a junior staying on campus as part of her financial aid, lives a few doors down from Sakura. She shifts focus to the man in the cat suit, who is in an argument with Naruto and apparently about to beat up one of the children, but Sasuke’s voice interrupts him from above.

“You’re a long way from home and you’re way out of your league,” Sasuke says, perched in a tree. He’s bouncing a stone in his palm. 

“Sasuke!” Sakura shouts in surprise and relief. Surely, he would do something about this—this weirdo. The game identifies him as Kankurō of the Desert, an indicator obviously familiar to Sakura. 

“Oh great, another wimp to tick me off,” Kankurō grumbles. 

To emphasize his point, Sasuke crushes the stone to dust in his grip, “Get lost.”

“Whoa,” Sakura yelps, impressed, “so cool!” Then she remembers herself, and that Sasuke—even if it wasn’t this particular Sasuke—is a two-faced backstabbing jerk, and reigns in her awe. 

“How come you’re not cool like that?” Konohamaru points to Naruto, who twiddles his fingers in embarrassment. 

“Ah, whaddaya mean? I could’ve taken that guy out in two seconds flat,” Naruto cheekily explains. 

Konohamaru huffs in response. Sakura isn’t all that convinced either.

“Hey, punk,” Kankurō says to Sasuke, “get down here.”

When Sasuke doesn’t budge, Kankurō continues.

“You’re the kind of pesky little snot I hate the most. All attitude and nothing to back it up.” Kankurō grabs at the bandaged bundle he wears as a backpack and whips the bandage off, into the air.

Sakura tenses. Is there about to be a fight? Just perfect, she hasn’t been paying enough attention.

“What?” Temari butts in, “Are you gonna use the Crow for this?”

Yes Temari, Sakura silently cheers her on. Stop your weird man-friend.

“Kankurō,” another voice ceases the impending fight instead, “back off.”

Sakura whirls to see the newest addition, and sure enough, there is the redheaded man from the preview hanging upside down from the same tree that Sasuke is perched on. Sakura is thrown off for a moment—She had just looked at Sasuke, when and how did Gaara get there? But he is, the gray heart meter signifying their route together hovering over his chest.

Sasuke looks just as surprised by Gaara’s sudden appearance.

“Oh wow,” Sakura mumbles to herself, studying him quickly, “alright, I’m about it.” He has kohl rimmed sea-foam green eyes—or maybe blue, it’s hard to tell from this far—and a large gourd strapped to his back. Did ninjas really all dress so… inconveniently? Wasn’t that sort of thing heavy to carry around?

“You’re an embarrassment to our village,” Gaara says bluntly.

Sakura has to stop herself from laughing.

“Uh, hey Gaara!” Kankurō says, suddenly nervous and deeply departed from the cocky show he had been putting on to bully the children.

“You’re an embarrassment to our village,” Gaara says again. “Have you forgotten the reason we came all the way here?”

Sakura inwardly muses that, in the meta sense, Gaara came all the way here to fall madly in love with her. Of course, he wouldn’t know that.

“I know, I—I mean, they challenged us. They started the whole thing, really. See, here’s what happened—” Kankurō starts.

Sakura glares at him, ready to say something to Konohamaru’s defense when Gaara interrupts.

“Shut up…” Gaara grumbles.

Kankurō gasps, and Sakura is tempted to cheer Gaara on.

“Or I’ll kill you,” Gaara finishes.

Oh, well damn. Sakura raises a brow.

“Uh, right,” Kankurō raises his arms to placate Gaara, “I’m sorry, Gaara. I was totally out of line.” 

“I’m sorry for any trouble he caused.” Gaara turns toward Sasuke, before morphing into a swirl of sand and appearing on the ground in front of Temari and Kankurō. “Let’s go. We didn’t come here to play games.”

“Alright, sure, I get it,” Kankurō babbles.

“Hold on!” Sakura calls out before she can stop herself. “Hey!”

The trio turns around, all eyeing her suspiciously, and Sakura loses her burst of confidence. “Oh, well, I just thought that maybe… we got off on the wrong foot? And as visitors to our village, we should be showing you a bit more hospitality? I’m Sakura, this is Naruto, and that’s Sasuke.” Inwardly, Sakura isn’t sure—Kankurō did try to beat up a kid who had just bumped into him on the street, and seriously, Konohamaru wasn’t even a qualified ninja yet. But she can’t imagine her introduction to her supposed love interest is supposed to end so quickly. Even if the altercation did result in Gaara threatening to kill Kankurō for it, he had put a stop to the bullying and apologized on Kankurō’s behalf. That had to count for something, right? And he probably didn’t mean it literally, right?

They continue to stare at her. The children scamper off. 

“Sai,” Sakura whispers, calling to him in hopes he would appear, “do I have any money?” 

“Your funds are unlimited for the purpose of the game,” Sai appears at her side. “Do whatever your little heart desires.”

“Maybe we could take you three out to tea?” Sakura briefly glances at their dialogue boxes, pulling inspiration right from the preview. “After all, the Land of Fire and Land of Wind are allies, so presumably we could be working together in the future.”

Naruto starts to grumble, “Sakura, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Really,” Sakura smiles brightly, “I insist!” 

Temari and Kankurō hesitate, looking to Gaara for a decision. He seems to consider, lips pulling into a stern frown. “It would be impolite to refuse,” he states simply. “I am Gaara of the Desert. These are my siblings, Temari and Kankurō.”

Well, Sakura blanches, not exactly an eager date acceptance, but she supposes it will have to do. Sakura notices the etching in his forehead, and a text box pops up to translate it for her: love. She thinks again of the preview, and all the blood, but dips her head at him, “Thank you for accepting. I promise, we’ll have fun.”

“Fun,” Temari flatly repeats back to her.

“Err, yeah, fun!” Sakura starts to walk, “Sai, where is a good tea house?”

“The other way. Follow me,” Sai says, heading in the other direction.

“Oops, silly me!” Sakura announces, turning sharply, “I forgot that it’s, um, the other way!” 

“Is this girl… dumb?” Kankurō stage whispers, definitely loud enough for Sakura to hear, to Temari.

Sakura’s smile twitches, and she’s ready to tell him off when Gaara intercedes again.

“Kankurō, stop being rude to our host. Father would not approve, and neither do I.”

“Of course!” Kankurō says, “Wow, my apologies! Don’t know what’s wrong with me today!”

“He’s always like this,” Temari explains, elbowing Kankurō sharply. “Clearly, he was dropped as a baby. The doctor says there is nothing we can do about his insufferable, smart mouth.” 

“Hey, I’m a cool guy!” 

“You were about to beat up a little kid,” Naruto complains, protectively close to Sakura. 

Sasuke, Sakura notices, didn’t bother joining them. Not that she wanted him to be there and literally watch her hit on someone else, but gee, could he spare one iota of support? 

“Oh, I was not,” Kankurō stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I was just reminding him of his manners is all! And I already apologized for that.”

“Yeah, sure, you’re so genuine and apologetic,” Naruto grumbles. 

They arrive at the tea house—game occasionally slowing so Sai can show her where to go—and are seated at a table. The trio pointedly sits together, Temari in the middle. Sakura makes a point of sitting opposite of Gaara, shooting Naruto a look implying he and Kankurō better learn to get along quickly or he’d regret his life choices. 

“So let me guess, you three are here for the Chūnin Exams?” Sakura asks, trying to make polite conversation.

“That’s right,” Temari nods. “Will you be competing as well?” 

“You bet we are!” Naruto cheers. Giving a thumbs up, he adds, “And we’re both going to become Chūnin! One day I’m going to be Hokage, believe it!”

“Ri-i-i-ght,” Kankurō drawls.

“What’s that supposed to mean, wise guy?!” Naruto glares at him.

Sakura waves a hand at Naruto dismissively, “Don’t mind Naruto, he’s very competitive. Driven, one might say. I’d love to hear more about where you’re from.”

Kankurō and Temari share a troubled glance. If Gaara’s bothered by the question, he gives nothing away.

“Well, to start with, the desert is hot,” Kankurō rests his elbows on the table.

Sakura nearly rolls her eyes at him, “I really can’t tell if you think you’re funny or what, but please stop making smart comments.”

Kankurō blanches, looking to Temari for support, “I’m funny.” When she averts her eyes, he reaffirms, “I’m funny!”

Gaara is staring intently at the menu, but adds, “Suna is a bleak place home to ruthless shinobi. The sun, the people, everything is brutal.” He glances up, eyes meeting Sakura’s for a second before looking around as if to gesture to the homely tea house, “Not like here. Things are soft here. It’s nice.”

Sakura flushes. The comment may have been innocent enough, but Sakura couldn’t help but assume the eye contact meant it was at least partially directed at her. Soft? No one has ever accused her of being soft, not as a compliment. “Well, you know what they say… Home is where the heart is.”

“I’ve never heard that expression. Are they the hearts of your ancestors? I suppose that makes sense. Do they bury them under your familial homes here?” Gaara’s gaze drifts back down to the menu. 

“E-eh?” Sakura reaches up to toy with a strand of hair, “No, it means that your home is where the people you love are.”

“I see. And where is your figurative home, Sakura?”

“Well, with my parents,” Sakura realizes she’s supposed to be talking about this world, and affectionately nudges Naruto with her elbow, “and my teammates of course.”

Naruto beams at her.

Sakura muses that it wasn’t completely dishonest. Sasuke is her teammate in this world. It’s not like she had to mention him specifically and define the venom she feels for him lately. 

“Anyone else?” Gaara asks.

“I don’t have any siblings,” and then Sakura could’ve smacked herself, because duh, this is a dating game, of course he wants to know if she’s seeing anyone, “or a boyfriend, if that’s what you mean.” 

Gaara blinks at her, face still, before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. His gourd, strapped to the back of his chair, clunks with the movement. “Hmph. Bonds are for the weak.”

The atmosphere around the table is tense and awkward. Sakura mumbles, “I don’t think that’s true.” She crosses her own arms, a little annoyed with this route. Sakura is about to say something snippy about his siblings being literally right there, when she notices the tips of his ears are red. Oh. She gives a breezy smile—This isn’t a hard route. He’s just a bit difficult to read, you have to look a little closer. 

Almost in response, the heart meter in front of his chest shifts from gray to a soft purple. 

Sakura immediately perks up in her chair, “What kind of tea do you guys like?” Purple already? Seriously, this couldn’t be that easy—Sakura briefly wonders if she’s more charming than she thought. 

“Never been a tea guy,” Naruto dog-ears the menu, and Sakura gently taps his hand to knock it off. “We should’ve gone out for ramen.”

“I like sencha tea,” Temari offers, “and Kankurō prefers black. Gaara, um…”

“What about you, Gaara?”

Gaara sets the menu down in front of him, feigning nonchalance, “I’ve never tried tea.”

“What kind of flavors in general do you like?” Sakura leans over the table to share his menu, pointing the items out as she mentions them. “Chamomile tea is good for stress, maybe that would be nice after a long journey. I’m getting the hibiscus tea, because I like the flavor.”

Gaara is quiet, pretending to focus on the printed words as Sakura sits back down. “It doesn’t matter.”

Sakura orders for the group—improvising and getting hibiscus tea for herself and Naruto, chamomile tea for Gaara, sencha tea for Temari, and black tea for Kankurō. They chat a bit as they wait—Kankurō talks about how he developed his hobby as a puppeteer, and Temari describes their long standing kickball rivalry as children. She notices Gaara is quiet. With every lively detail from the other two, Sakura is more and more surprised they’re related.

“It’s so wild that you guys are on the same squad, as siblings,” Sakura teases. “And yet you all look so different.”

“Except Kankurō,” Naruto butts in. “We really have no clue what you look like.”

“He has middle child syndrome,” Temari smirks. “He needs to stand out or he’ll wither up and die.”

“I do not,” Kankurō grumbles. “Face paint is very popular in Suna.”

“Along with black cat-suits, I’m sure, scorching under the desert sun.” Sakura chuckles. Gaara is still sitting there quietly, but the atmosphere is much less tense—Sakura wouldn’t describe it as comfortable, but neither Temari nor Kankurō look like they’re having a bad time.

The tea arrives, the pleasant chatter continues. Sakura sips at her tea, humming happily. It’s remarkable how lifelike it is inside the game, she can actually taste the tea.

Temari sniffs and takes a sip of Gaara’s tea first, before he tries it himself. 

Assuming Temari was trying the flavor, Sakura nudges her cup forward, “Would either of you like to try mine?” Temari’s face twitches, and Sakura almost rolls her eyes at her. “Oh come on, try it! I promise it’s good.”

Without hesitating, Gaara reaches forward to grab the cup. He brings it to his lips, taking a deep sip and setting the cup back in front of Sakura. “You’re right, it was very…” Gaara settles on a word, “sweet.”

Temari and Kankurō stare at him in unconcealed shock. Temari starts, “Gaara…”

“You’re supposed to let one of us taste things before you try them,” Kankurō finishes for her. 

Sakura squints at them, wondering what that was supposed to mean. 

“Calm down.” Gaara sips at his own tea, “Why would a shopkeeper poison a local girl’s tea? And if the shopkeeper did have a vendetta against this Genin from their own village, Sakura has already taken a sip, and she’s fine. Unless you presume that…” Gaara motions to Sakura, as if to prove his point, “she came here with the intent to poison me, when she clearly has no idea of our capabilities. And that one,” Gaara motions to Naruto, “is a buffoon.”

“Hey,” Sakura protests, “I would never poison someone.”

The sand trio stares at her for a moment, before Kankurō jokes, “The Leaf sure raises some weird shinobi. Here’s to an interesting Chūnin Exam.”

“I’ll toast to that,” Temari chuckles, raising her cup. 

Sakura playfully rolls her eyes, “Oh, hardy-har-har. I can take a joke at my expense.” She raises her cup to clink with Temari and Kankurō. Naruto joins, and finally Gaara.

They finish their tea, gather up their belongings—the sand trio all carries large objects, for some reason, though Sakura doesn’t have the time to dwell on it—and say their goodbyes.

Sakura offers her hand out to Temari for a handshake, then Kankurō, and finally Gaara. He hesitates, but he does take her hand. She shakes his hand firmly, pulling out an old trick her mother taught her, and says, “It was really nice to meet you—” Sakura fumbles, pretending to sound embarrassed, “you guys. I hope we see you guys around.” 

And there are those red tipped ears again.

“Well,” Sakura beams as Naruto shakes their hands as well, “hope you enjoy your stay in Konoha! Good luck in the Exams!” 

“Thanks, Sakura, Naruto,” Temari matches her smile, surprising Sakura with the warmth in it. 

Sakura turns, walking away and feeling like a million bucks, until she hears Temari mumble, “Nice folks. Shame about the mission, huh?”

♡ ♥ ♡

“Oh, what the fuck?!” Sakura huffs, sitting up sharply. The force of it knocks her phone off the bed, and it clatters to the floor. Grumbling to herself about the mess she was clearly about to find herself in the next time she falls asleep, she reaches and pulls her phone back up by the charger. 

“You, uh, good there?” Ino’s voice calls out from her desk chair.

“Peachy,” Sakura answers coolly, half-surprised she’s back in the room and half-annoyed with Temari. “Just a… weird dream.”

“Oh,” Ino says awkwardly, halfheartedly thumbing the edge of the textbook open on her desk. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something, closes it, and opens it again, “If you, like, need to talk about it, or anything….”

“Thanks,” Sakura says shortly, feeling her cheeks heat up. “I’m good. Like I said, just a weird dream.”

“Sure,” Ino bobs her head in an uncomfortable nod. “Open offer.”

If you had told either of them at high school graduation that they would be roommates shortly, that Ino would be telling Sakura she could confide in her if she wanted to—Sakura would’ve laughed, and she assumes Ino would have too. And yet here Sakura is, mouth open, considering telling the meanest girl from her high school about her lame breakup. Instead, what comes out is, “Hey, are you hungry?”

Ino blinks at her for a second, not processing, before breaking out in a smile, “Starving.”

“I didn’t have time for breakfast before class, and then I passed right out, so do you want to,” Sakura averts her eyes, damn adult acquaintanceships and their awkwardness, “go to the dining hall or whatever?” 

“Yes!” When Sakura starts to get out of bed, heading for the door dressed the same as she was for class, Ino continues, “Er, wait—Come here, I’ll braid your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Sakura complains, brow twitching in annoyance. 

“Relax, forest gremlin, I’ll make it cute.” She taps the floor in front of her with her foot. “You’re changing afterward too.”

“For the dining hall?” Sakura rolls her eyes, but sits in front of Ino, undoing her bun. 

“You never know who you might see,” Ino says vaguely. 

Sakura wonders whether something to-go would be the safer option. What if she sees Sasuke? It couldn’t hurt to let Ino play dress up—It even reminds Sakura of when they were little, before any of the boy drama that—“Ow, Ino!” Sakura yelps as Ino roughly brushes her hair, “Fucking hell, you don’t have to brush so hard.”

“I’m not brushing hard, if you brushed your hair better it wouldn’t be this tangled,” Ino chastises. “Now shush, I need to concentrate.”

Sakura grumbles under her breath, but she stays still so that Ino can get to work. After a while, once the brushing is done and Ino’s fingers are deftly braiding her hair, it’s honestly a little relaxing. Kind of nice, as far as their dynamic goes. 

“There! From forest gremlin to spring goddess. Now, go change.”

“Yes, mom,” Sakura teases, standing up to dig through her closet for something Ino would approve of. She settles for a University sweater, leggings, and booties. Sure enough, Ino gives her a chipper noise of approval when she pulls them out, so Sakura goes ahead and changes.

“Casual, but like, chique,” Ino gestures to her.

“You think so?” Sakura toys with the end of her French braid. She didn’t often dress up. She felt too busy, or too tired, but Ino always looked on point. Even after she spent all night out. It’s just her way. Sakura wonders if she’ll bump into Sasuke, looking all put together. She wonders what he’ll say, what she’ll say. Is it really over?

“Come on, slowpoke,” Ino snaps her out of her thoughts. “Let’s move it!”

Sakura recalls conversing with Gaara in the game and wonders why holding a friendly conversation is so difficult in real life. Because she knows he’s not real? But they all look real, at least. And yet, talking with Ino is mostly Ino doing the talking. Sure, she would prompt her for responses, and Sakura would pick at her pancakes and talk about her professors, but she doesn’t have anything she really wants to say to her.

She dreads Ino bringing up her dating life, but it doesn’t come, which only makes Sakura suspicious. Does Ino already know? Did Sasuke already announce his new relationship? Did Ino see them together in public? How long has he been going behind her back, making her look like a fool? Sakura stills, focusing intently on a chocolate chip. What if Ino…? No. No, to sit here and be friendly after being with Sasuke, that’s too much, even for Ino. They haven’t gotten along for years, but not even she is that brazen, right? Right. Sakura takes a bite of her food.

“Temari!” Ino calls out.

Sakura nearly chokes on that bite of food. She looks up sharply, and sure enough, there is Temari, flanked by two familiar faces. Not possible, Sakura thinks as she forces some water down. There’s no way. That’s too big a coincidence.

“Oh hey,” Temari calls back amicably. “Ino, Sakura, these are my brothers. The redhead is Gaara, the ugly one is Kankurō.”

“The ugly one?!” Kankurō elbows her sharply. 

“I said what I said. Boys, pink is Sakura and blonde is Ino.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ino says chipperly. “Do you already have somewhere to sit?”

Sakura makes brief eye contact with Gaara before she averts her eyes, pretending she’s very interested in cutting up what’s left of her pancake. “Yeah,” she says with forced enthusiasm, “please, join us.”

“Thanks,” Temari takes a seat. 

Sakura ponders on the sand trio’s mission, and forcibly reminds herself that this is real life. The voices are the same, but there are obvious differences. The way they dress, the lack of tension between them as they all begin to chatter casually. That world’s forehead scar is this world’s tattoo. 

There are standard college introductions, the same run-around students were expected to give each other: name and major. 

Sakura politely explains she’s on track for pre-med, but that otherwise she isn’t very interesting—

“That can’t be true,” Gaara muses, ripping off a piece of his bagel. “A pink haired doctor is interesting.”

Sakura flushes, not sure what to say to that, and is grateful when Kankurō changes the subject for what passes for scrambled eggs here. 

Sakura is on autopilot for the rest of the day. She attends her other two lectures and says she wants to get some studying done in the library tonight. Ino waves her off, and Sakura stuffs her Biology textbook and two notebooks into her bag, one for her actual Bio notes and one empty. She’s planning to do some studying, alright.

The library’s huge, easy enough to find a private spot. The first floor is loud—that’s where the main computers are, plus a coffee shop tucked into the far side—but there are several rows of private cubicles upstairs. That’s where she settles, setting herself up with her blank notebook.

Okay, Sakura tells herself, plugging her headphones in as she opens the Root app. She can do this. It’s just studying. People study fictional worlds all the time. It’s supposed to be fun, even. There are people out there who fluently speak Klingon. She huffs. It doesn’t feel very fun, knowing she’s going to be trapped there, but she’s already coming off as an idiot and she hasn’t even had to act like a ninja. 

Sakura has always been good at studying history. The names of the villages, their brief histories—although, she notes, much of the histories are redacted. She supposes her character in the game doesn’t have the knowledge at this point, but it makes her notes incomplete and frustrating. 

The basics of it are simple. Every ninja village has a Kage, a shinobi chosen to lead based on various factors, like the Hokage of the Leaf and the Kazekage of the Sand. From there, there are three basic rankings of the shinobi: Jōnin, the elite; Chūnin, qualified to work solo in certain situations or lead a team on a mission; and Genin, new or inexperienced shinobi like Sakura. Villages pay Konoha for ninja to come and handle missions, and the ninja are sent according to the skill necessary to complete it.

The history of her character is frustrating. Evidently, even in the game, she’s been lovestruck for Sasuke since childhood. “Well, not anymore, dickhead,” Sakura grumbles to herself, skimming through the article. She didn’t see a lot of growth there, not in comparison to her team. Evidently, she has good use of chakra control.

And then we get to Sakura’s biggest problem, chakra. Jutsu, from what she understands, are basically her ninja skills, and there are three basic types: ninjutsu, which as far as Sakura is concerned is magic; genjutsu, forcing people to experience what’s not there; and taijutsu, physical ability to the max. Sure, she can read about it, but how is she supposed to really learn a theoretical skill and apply it in the dream? She’s always been active, but to keep up with people who could actually fight, she needs to up her game. 

Emboldened by her character’s backstory, in love with the same jerk that broke her heart, Sakura begins to outline a plan of action—a plan to beat this damn game and cut Sasuke Uchiha out of her life forever. Lists always made her feel in control, and here in the middle of her notes, she plots:

Real Life:

• Study History and Mechanics Behind Jutsu
• Get Fit
• Social Media Purge

Game Life:

• Practice Jutsu / Training
• Beat Gaara’s Route

And just when she’s feeling confident, she sees something in her reading that trips her up. “Purple just means I’m more than a stranger?” Sakura groans, resting her forehead on her notebook. “I thought I was doing well.”

“Hey,” a voice pipes up from a nearby cubicle, “are you… okay?”

Sakura shoots up, embarrassed, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m… having a rough day. I didn’t think I was that close to anyone else.”

“You want a Capri Sun?” 

“I—A what?”

“A Capri Sun. The beverage.”

Sakura stands, trying to see where the voice is coming from, “Oh… yes, please.” 

“Kiwi Strawberry or Fruit Punch?”

“You have… options?”

“Those two.”

Bewildered with the encounter, Sakura bashfully says, “The Fruit Punch.”

The juice pouch is gently lobbed over the cubicle walls. Sakura zeroes in on the stranger, catching the pouch and telling him thank you.

“You wanna talk about the purple thing?” The boy pokes his head up, a head of dark hair hidden beneath a gray hood and eyes hidden under dark tinted glasses. 

Sakura’s about to question the sunglasses indoors—Sensitive to sunlight, maybe? Hungover? “It’s so far fetched, I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Well, if you’re going to say it so mysteriously, now I have to know.” He stands up, half-hovering, waiting to be invited over.

Sakura chuckles, patting the wall of the cubicle next to her, “Alright, but you asked for it. Let’s start with the basics; I’m Sakura, and I’ve had the weirdest 24 hours in existence.”

“Cheers to that,” the young man holds his Capri Sun out and waits for her to tap her own against it. Once she does, he pokes the straw in and offers his own name, “I’m Shino.” 

Sakura pokes her own straw into her pouch, taking a long sip before she starts, “Okay, so basically, I was in bed pretending I wasn’t upset last night—I got dumped in a text message and I didn’t want my roommate to see me upset, because we don’t get along, or at least we used to not get along and now it’s just weird. So all of a sudden, I notice an app on my phone that I didn’t have before, and I open it…” She explains the series of events that led to her current predicament, stuck playing a dating game in her dreams, and the desire to beat it so she can cut ties with a world tying her to her ex. 

Shino is a surprisingly good listener, for a stranger, and he offers no judgement or ridicule for her outlandish story. If he doesn’t believe her, he doesn’t show it. “That sounds like a lot of weight on your shoulders,” he scratches the back of his neck, “and it sounds like with the way things are going, you’ll be forced to interact a lot with your ex during the Exam. What are you going to do?”

Sakura ponders that, “I don’t know. We’re a team, so I can’t exactly ignore him, but I won’t be close to him either. I’ll just try and focus on the route and take it one step at a time. When I get to his route… I’ll just have to do my best.”

Shino nods, satisfied with that answer, “That’s all you can do, I suppose. Developing a romantic relationship over and over though, that’s going to take a mental toll, right? If you need someone to help you think anything through, or help you study, I wouldn’t mind. It sounds like you don’t want to rely on your roommate.”

Sakura beams at the offer, “Thanks, Shino. We’ve been on alright terms since school started, I’m just not sure if I can trust her with something so weird and personal. It would be nice to have someone to talk through the game stuff that isn’t invested in all my dumb, real life dating stuff. Here,” Sakura opens up the contact list on her phone, “please, add yourself.”

He nods, taking the phone and quickly saving his contact info before returning the phone.

As a sign that she intends to take him up on his offer, she shoots him a text with her name and a smiley face emoji. Sakura starts to pack up her belongings, noticing how hungry she’s getting, “Thanks Shino, seriously. I feel a lot better after talking about it.” She finishes her Capri Sun, “I’m going to get some food, let me treat you for all your help?”

Shino gives a small smile, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be shy!” Sakura beams in return, happy to earn an expression when he’s been so reserved, “Come on, don’t turn down free food! My company can’t be that bad.”

“Alright, alright,” he says sheepishly, returning to his own cubicle to pack up. 

Ino is out when Sakura returns, later than she expected and holding a mostly empty smoothie cup. She didn’t often venture out, since fast food isn’t covered under her meal plan, but she was having a good time and didn’t want it to end. Today, in general, was a huge uptick from the night prior. Spending time with Ino wasn’t as icy as usual, and she even made a friend—Sakura hasn’t had one of those in a while, separate from the Uchiha family, and honestly she’d always thought that was fine. But hanging out with someone new, who didn’t know all about her from her personal baggage to her favorite flavors, was kind of refreshing. 

She changes and undoes her braid, unraveling all of Ino’s hard work. After setting her smoothie on her nightstand and turning the light off, she flops into bed, checking her phone. There was a message from Shino, a simple good luck, and Sakura quickly responded with a thank you, and that she had fun today. 

She gets a text from Ino: a picture of her out, with a dark haired boy she didn’t recognize, and a message saying that tomorrow is Friday and she needed to bring Sakura out. She smiles at that, and decides to agree. Why the hell not? Sakura was having a good day, damn all the craziness around her personal life, and she is feeling a little braver than usual. She logs onto Facebook before she can take the time to overthink it. She doesn’t hesitate, changing her status, consequences be damned. 

She can handle all the inquisition around her newly single status, she can handle this stupid game—change is fine, maybe change is even good. Sakura starts to drift off, setting her phone to the side. Fuck Sasuke, Sakura thinks, she can deal with the fallout tomorrow.

♡ ♥ ♡

Sakura enters Konoha where she left off, walking with Naruto as they depart the café. She blinks groggily, trying to remember where she left off—right, the plan. The sand trio is up to something, but what? “Naruto,” Sakura whispers as soon as they’ve gained some distance, “did you hear that?”

Sakura grumbles as he ignores her, hands thrown behind his head as he complains, “Sakura, what’s a buffoon?”

Sakura’s eye twitches, “It means he called you an idiot, idiot.”

There’s a bump against her shoulder. Sakura turns to find Sai there, lips pulled up in his insincere smile. “Oh Sai,” Sakura bumps his shoulder back, “where have you been?”

He gestures vaguely, “Around.” Naruto is suspended in the game, wandering as Sakura wanders, but oblivious to the conversation next to him.

“What’s ‘the mission?’”

“Spoilers? Sakura, I’m shocked. Surely, you’ve assumed I can’t give you the answers. That would be too easy.” He bumps her shoulder again.

Sakura shoves him, annoyed with his proximity, “I need you and your eerie customer service smile to keep out of my personal bubble.”

“Sorry,” Sai flickers, reappearing several feet away, “I am not trying to provoke your anger.”

“I’m not angry.” Sakura sighs, crossing her arms, “I just—It’s not that I need you to give me the answers, I just thought it was going so well. And now there’s some mystery plan. I’m not a fan of surprises.”

“You are doing well. The tea house surprised me. You’ve moved past his thousand yard glare right into Gaara’s crippling need for recognition and intimacy,” Sai scratches briefly behind his ear, eyes squinting to attempt a more realistic smile. “Bravo.”

“Okay,” Sakura perks up at the praise. “That’s a start then. Can you help me find my house again? I have some work to do before I’m ready for any Exam.”

Sai blinks at her, the only indication he’s been caught off guard, “I see, so you’ve been doing the reading. Excellent, let's go.”

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route One: Gaara of the Desert - Blue Heart

Sakura finds a trove of information in her room: scrolls on jutsu techniques, on the use of weapons in her room, on the history and application of chakra. Some of them are simple, like a child’s book, and Sakura starts there. 

It seems easy on paper. Make the hand signs, direct energy with intent—and abracadabra, alakazam, magic. Or… something. She practices long into the night, focusing on a substitution jutsu, making the hand sign and thinking of her intent to replace herself with a pillow from her bed, until she gets frustrated. Then she switches it up, setting up a target and throwing something the game told her was a kunai—she’s terrible at that too, most of them either lodging in the wall or clattering harmlessly to the floor.

The scrolls recommended meditation, and she even tries that too, trying to sense the pathways of chakra through her body. At one point, she thinks she feels it in her legs, but they’ve just gone numb. 

“This time, for sure,” Sakura huffs, her eyes heavy from hours of focusing. She takes up the hand sign for substitution one last time, focusing her mind on the spot where the pillow is, and in a plume of smoke Sakura is shocked to find herself… exactly where she was before, cross-legged on her floor. She looks over at the bed for confirmation, and there’s her pillow, still sitting there.

“Okay, well at least the smoke is new,” she groans, getting up and flopping onto the bed, overwhelmed and exhausted. Her eyes flutter closed as she looks up at the ceiling, trying to take joy in the small victories. That’s right, she passed the ninja academy somehow in this world, didn’t she? She can do this, dammit, she can totally do this.

Sakura wakes to Naruto banging loudly on her front door and proclaiming that they are all going together to register for the Chūnin Exam. She sighs, still exhausted from her late night, and forces herself out of bed. She opens her window, poking her head out and shouting for Naruto to give her a minute, before she gets dressed for the day. 

She leaves her hair down, tying it somewhat out of her face with her headband, and wonders whether or not her forehead looks big this way—but it does keep the hair out of her face, and she doesn’t exactly want to replicate Ino’s trademark ponytail, especially when they somehow have a worse relationship in this world than the real one. Picking her clothes quickly, settling on a sportswear dress she’d seen herself wearing in Gaara’s preview, she prepares to head out. The dress, like her shirt, had what she learned from her reading was the Haruno family crest embroidered on the back—it’s a neat little symbol, a plain white outline of a circle.

She rushes out to find Naruto waiting by the front door and Sasuke leaning on a lamp post across the street. She almost rolls her eyes at him, but reminds herself that this Sasuke didn’t necessarily do anything wrong to her. He’s just… aloof? Reserved? A bit of a dick? She doesn’t have his vibe down yet, but for the sake of the Friendship Points they would have to try and get along. 

“Hey guys!” Sakura greets them brightly, locking her door behind her. 

“So,” Sasuke shifts off of the post, heading toward them with his hands stuffed in his pockets, “enjoy your date?”

Sakura chuckles and the trio starts to walk together, “I don’t suppose you asked Naruto whether or not he enjoyed his date? He and Kankurō really hit it off.”

His eyes twitch into a glare and he scoffs, “You’re both annoying.”

Sakura snorts at that. Some things really do never change, even in an alternate reality. 

Sasuke walks ahead, leading them to the building where registration is being held. He explains that while they were goofing off yesterday, he met with Kakashi and received the instructions for their registration. Naruto and Sakura follow in his wake, making idle chatter and weaving through the crowd as they enter the building. They need to get to the third floor, where the registration booth is. 

Sakura is surprised that they ascend a flight of stairs, stopping on the second floor, before Naruto winds up in some heated debate with another shinobi. Sakura’s distracted by the crowd of people. According to Sasuke, Kakashi had explicitly said they were registering on the third floor, so why is everyone gathered here? Why would he specifically point out the third floor on a building that, as evidenced by the lack of another staircase, only has two floors? She’s even more surprised to notice the classroom marker, clearly labeled 3A. This is definitely the second floor, and the classrooms on the first were marked with 1, so why—?

“The genjutsu,” Sasuke’s voice draws her back out of her thoughts, “I’m sure you’ve noticed it too, Sakura.”

“Uh,” Sakura blanches, suddenly realizing it wasn’t supposed to make sense because it was a test, “Oh, yes, obviously. We’re only on the second floor.” She’d read about genjutsu, and it perfectly fit the bill, making all these students believe they were on the third floor. 

The two young men who had been gatekeeping the false entrance look impressed, congratulating them. Sakura is distracted by a young man with a bowl cut, thick eyebrows, and a green bodysuit staring directly at her. Sakura turns her head away, trying to discourage the staring and prevent a conversation, but he approaches her anyway.

“Hello! I’m Rock Lee,” he announces, grinning and pointing a thumb at his chest.

Sakura reminds herself to be polite, that it earns her tangible benefits here to be kind to even the oddball inhabitants. “I’m Sakura Haruno,” she says stiffly.

“Please be my girlfriend!” He booms, positively beaming at her, “I’ll protect you until the day I die!”

“Oh, wow, that was sudden,” Sakura deadpans, surprised. “No, thank you.” She can’t imagine some other dude confessing in another man’s love route meant she should accept the offer—and even so, he’s a complete stranger, beyond his appearance. 

He takes a step closer. Naruto’s shouting something, but Sakura is fully focused on making her escape if she needs to. Lee blows her a kiss, a cartoon heart appearing in the air. Suddenly, as if via loudspeaker, “MINI GAME!” booms across the hallway. 

Sakura yelps, taking a step back as yellow arrows appear on the floor. The cartoon heart is suspended mid-air, everything around her paused. It’s easy to forget, with all the graphics and the sensations of everything feeling so real, that this is all some game on her phone.

Sai appears, taking a seat cross-legged against the wall. “Sakura, welcome to your first mini-game. The rules to this one are easy. When the arrow lights up, jump on it. They get faster. If you win, you get a cut scene. If you lose, well, in this particular instance, then you get blown a kiss by Rock Lee.”

“What’s his deal?” Sakura grumbles.

“Not sure!” Sai shrugs, “He’s a good guy, but it’s a very strange first meeting. Anyway, say ‘cha’ when you’re ready to begin.”

“‘Cha?’” Sakura repeats, confused. “What does that even—Shit!” The left arrow glows in response to her saying the word. Sakura leaps onto the glowing arrow and it dings its approval. As the arrows light up, Sakura quickly taps them with her foot: left, left, up, right, down, right, left, up, and onward, until all four arrows glow green and disappear. 

Sakura’s about to ask now what, when her body suddenly moves for her. The people are moving again, Rock Lee’s comical heart-kisses flying through the air at dangerous speed. Her body dodges dramatically for her, jumping and ducking when necessary. The barrage of kisses finally ends, and Sakura exclaims, “Jeez, that was close!”

Rock Lee looks disappointed and, annoyed, Sakura resorts to an age-old defense to get out of there as quickly as possible, “I have a boyfriend, bushy-brows! Back off!” It’s not even true anymore, and before she can see whether or not the lie worked, Naruto has butt in and is ready to get in a fight.

They cause a commotion, Naruto shouting at him to leave Sakura the hell alone, and Rock Lee’s teammates—including, to Sakura’s embarrassment, Neji Hyūga—break up the fight and drag their spandex clad friend away.

Sakura crosses her arms, irritated with the whole spectacle, and moves to continue up to the third floor for her teammates to meet her up there so they can all register when they’re done being childish. At the stairs, Sakura sees none other than Gaara propped against the wall, watching. “Hey!” Sakura puts on a smile despite her frayed nerves, “That was some wild drama back there.”

Gaara opens his mouth a sliver, like he’s about to say something, and then clenches his mouth shut into a thin line. He averts his eyes, his ears tipped bright red.

“Earth to Gaara?” Sakura prods, wondering what he has to say.

“You rejected that man because you have a boyfriend,” he starts, eyes flicking back to her, “but yesterday, you said…”

Oh! Sakura inwardly grins. There it is. He’s jealous. “It’s a dumb patriarchal thing girls do when boys won’t take a regular no. Sad, but effective.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, considering that. “I see,” he muses. “I suppose dating customs are complicated.” 

“But for the record,” she starts up the stairwell, flicking her hair back and looking over her shoulder at him, “I’m single. Since you were curious.”

His eyes widen and he looks away sharply, the purple of his heart meter shimmering briefly before it turns blue. 

She grins wickedly, racing up the rest of the stairs. Score! Sakura chuckles to herself. If embarrassing Gaara was a collegiate sport, well, she definitely deserved varsity, right? From her reading, a blue heart only indicates they’re friendly, but Sakura can work with friendly. A lot of the stuff from the preview seemed more… ominous. Sure, Gaara is quiet, a little antisocial maybe, and he did threaten to murder Kankurō that one time—but maybe that was a sibling-esque exaggeration? Nothing she’s seen has been like the end of the preview. Maybe it has something to do with Temari’s mission. 

Waiting for the rest of her team in order to register, she wonders if she should’ve hung around Gaara more. Everything she’d learned about flirting, in her limited experience, was to leave while a conversation has the guy flustered—especially since they would be seeing each other throughout the tournament, and if he wanted more then he could pursue her. But Sakura’s only seriously pursued one guy, would this strategy really work on anyone?

By the time the rest of her team caught up, they are ready to register and are ushered into an exam room full of other, grumpier looking shinobi. Some of them try to talk to the trio—like a blue haired man with wire framed glasses named Kabuto—but Sakura is distracted with all of the different faces and text boxes that pop up. She sees Ino, who comes up to flirt brazenly with Sasuke, and her two teammates: Shikamaru and Chōji. Someone even brought a dog to the exam. Her heart catches in her throat when Gaara enters the room with his siblings. Their eyes meet and, despite her nerves, Sakura shoots him a bright smile.

He hangs back, like he doesn’t want Temari or Kankurō to see, and lifts his hand in a small wave. His lips quirk in what Sakura’s sure is a smile, or at least a friendly smirk. It quickly fades into neutrality as they take their turn scanning over the rest of the room.

The examiner appears in a puff of smoke, incredibly tall and stocky with a black bandana over his presumably bald head. His intimidating presence silences the room. Other proctors enter, taking their seats in chairs along the aisle, and the teams begin to file into their assigned seating. 

Sakura takes her spot, looking at the packet in front of her, the back of her exam face up and marked with her name in the top left corner. He gives the instructions, and Sakura huffs a bit. A literal exam, really? She doesn’t have enough going on with college? He blathers on—it’s a written exam with a final tenth question provided at the end, there’s a point system, those caught cheating lose points, etc. Sakura isn’t entirely focused, trying to guess what the material would be. She hopes it’s something she studied, otherwise she’s fucked.

When given the command to begin, Sakura flips her paper over. She skims the questions, expecting to have trouble because she’s hardly a qualified ninja, and finds math. Sure, it leans into Trigonometry and some Calculus, but it’s math. Still shocked, she starts to find the hypotenuse of a kunai knife thrown at a tree, and quietly marvels at the fact that somehow AP Calc proved useful anywhere besides her high school transcripts.

As she finishes the ninth question, she feels a tickle by her left ear. She moves to itch it and tucks her hair behind her ear, but she feels something grainy there. She shifts her gaze and nearly hollers when she sees a floating eye. Seeing the sand swirling around it, she swallows the scream and shoots a nervous glance behind her towards Gaara, who is sitting a few rows back and—sure enough—has a hand covering one of his eyes. Pouting, Sakura covers her paper and shoots the disembodied eye a grumpy look. She doesn’t want the proctors to catch her and cause her to lose points, so she lightly writes ‘Cheaters never prosper’ at the top of the page.

The eye stares blankly at her, a tendril of sand swirling down to prod at her arms. 

Sakura sighs softly. Oh, alright. She moves back, letting Gaara look at her paper, and in the corner she lightly doodles a smiley face sticking its tongue out. When the eye looks up at her, she flips to the other pages for him. She decides to take it as a good sign that Gaara assumed she is smart enough to know the answers. Besides, it’s just a game. 

Sakura erases her notes to Gaara and writes a new note—‘Bet you anything that Naruto can’t solve a single question.’ Sasuke should do fine, but Naruto… well, he seems like a nice guy, but he doesn’t seem mathematically inclined. 

The eye studies the note, and then looks back at Sakura. 

She gives it a mischievous little smile and it disappears in a swirl of sand. She erases the note, waiting impatiently for the exam period to end. 

It finally does, the examiner reading out the rules for the dreaded tenth and final question. They are given the option to bow out, providing the opportunity for them to take the exam again next quarter, because any team that failed the exam would be disqualified from competing again. Sakura blinks owlishly at that. Seems a little harsh. This is just a game, of course, so it doesn’t really affect her, but many of the other shinobi look downright terrified at the prospect. Several raise their hands, disqualifying themselves and their team in the hopes of coming back next time. Her eyes pinpoint Naruto, who she already suspected did terribly on the exam—although the disqualification would be an unexpected twist. Surely, an NPC shouldn’t affect her chances in the route. It’s not like she had the opportunity to help Naruto study math.

As Naruto’s hand slowly rises into the air, Sakura is disappointed. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to compete in the Chūnin Exams in this route after all?

Naruto slams his hand down on the desk, launching into an impassioned speech about perseverance and how no one can stop him from fulfilling his dreams—even if he were to fail this exam. Sakura’s heart warms at the sentiment, although there is a nagging voice in the back of her mind that he sure was quick to drag his teammates down with him.

But evidently, it’s the right decision. Morale is boosted. No further candidates withdraw from the exam. The infamous tenth question is revealed to have been a test of determination and courage against the odds, which Naruto was the embodiment of passing with flying colors, and the rest of the class passes with him, steeled by his courage. Before the celebration can commence, a woman appears in a puff of smoke—a bombshell, clad in mostly netting and teasing the examiner about how many students he let pass his exam.

  The remaining shinobi are ushered into the woods, to the entrance of a large, gated forest. It’s labeled, quite ominously, ‘The Forest of Death.’ Sakura wonders if that’s a bit of a dramatic misnomer, or if she’s in for more than she’s bargained for. The rules for the second exam are still relatively simple, but more along the lines of what she expected from a ninja exam—basically, a slightly more complicated version of capture the flag in a survival scenario, but they can’t look at the ‘flag’ directly and destroying the other competing ‘flags’ results in less competition down the line. Glancing around at the other teams, she feels she is outclassed, but if she follows Sasuke and Naruto then everything should be fine.

Thankfully, the exam isn’t due to begin immediately, giving people time to prepare. As the groups scatter, Sakura tries to take a mental inventory of her room. She obviously has a lot of work to do, and she’ll need to be careful packing. There are plenty of weapons in there, not that she really knows how to use them. She says a polite goodbye to her teammates—Naruto is chattering with other Genin and Sasuke is ready to skulk off on his own—and clusters of students begin to walk home through the regular, non-deadly woods. 

“Sakura,” a raspy voice calls out to her.

Sakura brightens at Gaara’s voice, turning to greet him, “Hey! Some exam we’re in for, huh?”

He’s closer than she expects. Her feet catch on one another in her surprise, and she starts to fumble and fall backwards.

Gaara’s hands, and a swirl of his ever-shifting sand, snap out to catch her. The momentum of pulling her up has her chest pressed right to his, their noses bumping and their lips a moment apart. With one hand clasped around her wrist and the other at her hip, it takes them both a precious moment to find their voices. 

“Um, thank you for catching me!” Sakura yelps, flushed crimson red.

“You’re clumsy,” Gaara blurts.

“Sure am!” Sakura blurts back, mortified. There’s no way ninja are this clumsy, she must look so out of her league. She moves to take a step back, but his grip is tight on her wrist and waist, his sand floating lethargically around them. Sakura shifts her gaze back to his face.

He looks alarmingly intense, his eyes stern and serious, but his ears give him away. He takes a sharp breath, like he’s gathering his courage, “I believe you’ve lost our bet, Miss Haruno.” 

Sakura squeaks as he moves in.

“If I remember correctly, the terms were ‘anything,’” he mumbles, head tilting, nose brushing her own as he moves, “and I would like to claim my prize.”

Sakura is on the verge of combusting. “Slow your roll! There is no way Naruto got any questions right on that exam,” she presses her free hand to his chest, ready to nudge him back a few inches for some personal space if she needs to, “a-and—and how would you know anyway?!”

He pulls back, quirking a smirk at her, and releases her wrist. He places that hand over his eye, “Remember?”

Oh, duh, the sand-eye-thing. Sakura inwardly reels that Naruto is capable of enough math to solve any of those problems, and Gaara goes on.

“Not that my jutsu mattered, Naruto left the entire packet blank. He couldn’t answer a single problem,” he pauses, to add emphasis, “on the written test. But he very publicly answered one question from the exam correctly.” 

“Oh,” Sakura realizes, “the tenth question.” She looks him in the eyes, flustered, and tries to remind herself it’s just a game. She gathers her nerves, rallying behind that thought, and boldly says, “Well, I’m a kunoichi of my word; claim your prize.” She closes her eyes, her heart hammering in her chest—this would be her first kiss in a while, and her first first kiss in years. 

“You’re going to train with me.”

Sakura’s eyes flutter open, and she takes a moment to register before responding, “Train with you?”

“For the second exam and, presuming you pass—which you will, with my aid—for the third.” He slowly removes his other hand from her waist, taking a few steps back. “Is that a problem?”

“I mean,” Sakura gawks, “no, I totally need the training, but I seriously thought you were going to kiss me!” And honestly, she’s a little upset he didn’t. 

Now it’s Gaara who looks on the verge of combusting, a hot blush spreading from his ears to his cheeks. “Leaf shinobi are clearly not as skilled as you will need to be. It will be rigorous training, as often as you’re available.”

Sakura crosses her arms, “Oh, so you’re going to ignore the kissing comment?”

“It wouldn’t do to have you stumbling around the battlefield, but if we meet frequently we can make a difference in your skill set before the exam.”

“Sounds like you’re asking me to hang out all the time,” Sakura closes the distance between them, eyes flickering with mischief. His sand flickers up around them, before falling limply as she only tugs on his sash. “That sure seems like multiple prizes to me, and besides, if all you want is to see more of me... then you can ask me, like a gentleman.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—Sakura almost convinces herself it’s gold—and he grips her waist again, pulling her into him. His other hand cups her cheek, positioning her to look at him, and before she can look for the gold flecks, they’re back to normal. He’s there with his nose to hers, sucking in a breath and looking absolutely unsure of himself. “I’ve never—I’m not… capable of… this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t deserve the affection,” Gaara’s palm slides down, his fingers tracing carefully over her jaw, like she was a bit of fragile glass he expects will shatter and cut him at any moment. 

It’s such a sad sentiment that Sakura isn’t sure what to say. “Of course you deserve affection,” she gently admonishes, “and even if you feel that way, it’s mine to offer, isn’t it?”

He hesitates, “Yes.”

“And do you want it?”

No hesitation: “Yes.”

“Then kiss me if you want to kiss me, it’s fine, Gaara—” Sakura’s barely finished saying his name and he’s pressed against her, his mouth seeking hers out. Her eyes shut, her knees go weak, and they’re both half-relying on the other to stay propped up. They come back again and again, her dazed eyes finding his, her hands slowly working up to the nape of his neck and into his hair.

“Sakura,” Gaara breaks the kisses to rest his forehead against hers, “you don’t understand. I’m dangerous.”

“We’re shinobi,” Sakura shifts to give him a soft peck on the lips. “Don’t you think danger kind of comes with the territory? I’m not afraid of you.” 

“Not yet,” he frowns kind of petulantly, half-wanting her to believe him and half-happy to live in this little bubble. “There could come a day you get hurt, and I don’t want to be the one to hurt you.”

“So don’t,” Sakura hums, leaning into the crook of his neck in a lazy hug, “and if there’s an accident, it’s an accident. People get hurt training, don’t they? And I thought you wanted to teach me to fight. I’ll do my best. I’m not some fragile little twig.”

Gaara eyes her dubiously, craning his neck away from her so she can see. Still, his arms wrap securely around her. 

Sakura tuts at him, “What, you get a girl to kiss you and then you don’t want to see her again?” She’s secretly quite pleased at the way his grip tightens around her.

He grumbles softly, “I want to see you again.” 

Sakura thinks on this for a few moments, nuzzling once more into his neck and held securely in his embrace. For the way he seemed to strike fear into his siblings, Sakura hasn’t seen that side of him. Could he really be dangerous? Obviously, he’s a shinobi, but dangerous to her? “What’s the magic word?” She teases, and if that’s just a phrase from her world, it seems to translate.

“Please,” Gaara says, surprising Sakura with the urgency in his voice. “I want to see you again, please.”

“I would love to see you more,” Sakura hums happily—the needy kissing in the woods was quite lovely, almost enough to make her forget she has to play the game. “Please visit me whenever you like.”

“I can walk you home, if you’d like. So I know the way.” His fingers move to tuck stray hair behind her ear, before trailing down to linger on her cheek. “Then I can pick you up for training first thing in the morning.”

“Alright,” Sakura quirks a smile. It seems Gaara doesn’t know how to ask her on a date, translating that into knowing he would like to see her and picking a way to make that happen. Well, that’s fine. She definitely needs the training.

“In the forest, we need to find each other as quickly as possible. You’ll have to be able to defend yourself until we’re together, and then,” his fingers trace down from her cheek, along her jaw until he cups her chin and rests his thumb on her bottom lip, “I will protect you.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Sakura smiles softly, his thumb tracing her lip. “Maybe I’ll be the one protecting you, hmm?” 

Rustling trees disrupt the pair. She’s ready to try and take a defensive stance but, though Gaara loosens his hold on her, he doesn’t let go. Sand swirls around their feet, his chakra flares—Sakura can feel it, heavy and threatening—and they wait for the intruder to make themselves known.

Whoever it was, they’ve disappeared. With the tender moment gone, Sakura turns to face Gaara, disappointed, “We should get going.” 

He releases her from his grip, satisfied that whoever had stumbled upon them had done the smart thing and made themselves scarce. He takes a step back, suddenly looking bashful and says, a little sternly, “I’ll take you home. And then, first thing tomorrow.”

Sakura is delighted to see, right there above his chest, a shimmering green heart.

♡ ♥ ♡

Sakura wakes up fresh, rejuvenated—God, she forgot how good puppy love felt. She’s killing this game. She’s still got it, whatever the it factor is, and for all the supposed danger and ominous warnings, it’s been nearly nothing but sweet so far. 

The spell is quickly broken when she looks at her phone, a knot forming in her stomach. Oof. That’s a lot of notifications. Sakura skims for the context:

• One roommate freak out
• Two Uchihas in her business
• Three concerned classmates
• Four missed calls from her mother
• And a partridge in a pear tree.

“Nope,” Sakura tosses her phone to the side, “not dealing with that right now.” She has one afternoon class on Fridays. She’s going to get some food, she’s going to attend that class, she’s going to bask in her afternoon—night? Damn you, time, you manmade construction—of kissing, but she is certainly not catering to everyone’s questions about her fucked up love life. That’s not on the docket.

Sakura rummages through her clothes, finding a pair of leggings and a long sleeve shirt. She tosses her hair in a high pony, Ino’s signature look be damned, and leaves the room as quickly as possible. Whatever her roommate had gotten into last night, she spent the night there, and Sakura silently thanks the heavens for small miracles. She’d brought her bag with her, ready to review some real world notes with breakfast, and figures she’ll keep herself busy until class. 

It’s hard to pretend she cares about Bio when she’s focused on the game world. The next time she falls asleep, she’ll still be with Gaara and his green heart. Budding romance, that’s what the app had said. It’s kind of obvious, considering they’d kissed, that the heart would change from friendly to more, but Sakura couldn’t help but think about it.

What’re the rules there? If you go from acquaintance to romantic, do you skip blue entirely? The game is intricate, as intricate as the real world, but there’s a visual measure of her success. And then, of course, there’s thinking about Gaara.

“Sakura?”

Yes, Gaara. Sakura blinks, numbly taking a bite of her cereal, before she realizes. “Gaara!” 

“Hey,” he nods his head, holding a tray full of food. “Can I sit?”

Sakura nudges her notebooks to the side, her face heating up, “Of course. No Temari or Kankurō today?”

“I’m sure you and Ino don’t eat together every meal,” he shrugs, taking a seat.

“That’s true,” Sakura nods her head, pretending her cereal is very interesting and trying to avoid mentioning that yesterday was the first time she’s shared a meal with Ino since elementary school.

They chat a bit, mostly about the high schools they went to. It’s kind of nice. Sakura can’t help but notice how different they are, the real Gaara and the game Gaara. This one is a poli-sci major, botany minor. A green thumb—Who would’ve thought? He’s not nearly as shy, but there’s one moment where Sakura laughs at a meme and recites her number for him to send it to her, where she notices the tips of his ears are bright red.

She smiles a bit shyly at that. Maybe some things really don’t change, even across worlds. Maybe some things are just true. The sky is blue and Gaara is easily embarrassed. 

She notices eyes on her from across the cafeteria. She almost doesn’t look, but she does, jade eyes meeting dark ones from across the room. A shiver runs down her spine. Itachi Uchiha. She’s not ready for that conversation. She remembers his text from this morning, one that she’d ignored in favor of a blissful day: ‘We need to talk.’

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route One: Gaara of the Desert - Green Heart

Gaara must notice Sakura’s uncomfortable glances toward the older Uchiha brother, because he nudges her elbow with his, “Hey, uh. That guy glaring at you. Do you know him?”

“Ex-boyfriend’s brother,” Sakura answers awkwardly. “It’s a pretty fresh breakup, so I think he’s just trying to figure out what happened.” 

“Oh.” Gaara fiddles with his bagel, “A breakup, huh?”

She can practically see the gears turning in his head, and she almost laughs at him. How can both Gaaras be so obtuse? “Yeah, a really messy one,” she says, not wanting to open up the window for flirtation that she opened in the game. “Sucked, but hey, I’m better off.”

“That’s good,” Gaara shoots a glare Itachi’s way, surprising Sakura with it.

She hasn’t seen Gaara look so severe since, well, since she first met the other Gaara and he was threatening his brother.

He goes on, not breaking eye contact with Itachi, “You need someone to walk you to class?”

“Oh, no,” Sakura shakes her head. “It’s probably fine. I’ll just dip out.”

Gaara makes a noise of understanding, finishing the rest of his bagel. The rest of his tray is loaded with fruit, which he unceremoniously dumps into his bag. 

“Wh—” Sakura balks, “Are you stealing the fruit?”

He slings his bag over his shoulder, “Did you think I was planning to eat all those apples and bananas for breakfast?”

Sakura flushes, gathering her stuff—She can just study outside the classroom, “I thought you were just really into fruit!”

“Come on, that guy is getting up too,” Gaara grabs her tray for her. “Go ahead, I’ll take your tray. He’ll have to take his and you can dip out.”

“Thanks, you’re the best!” Sakura makes a break for it, speed walking just enough to pull off what she hopes is a casually-running-late vibe. 

The vibe doesn’t save her. The crowd bottlenecks at the exit and one disgruntled Itachi Uchiha taps the side of her head as he catches up to her.

“Sakura,” he says, frowning when she won’t meet his eyes, “we need to talk.”

“You didn’t take your tray up?” Sakura grumbles.

“Left it with a friend. Not important. I sent you a text last night, I thought you’d have gotten it this morning,” he levels with her, waiting for her to admit she’d ignored it.

“I saw that, but I… Uh, I—” didn’t feel like dealing with everyone’s texts? “My phone was dying and I was starving. So I left it to charge while I ate, but, uh, I was going to respond.” Sakura glances at him, and he looks unimpressed. 

“Is that so?” he says flatly, eyes not narrowed—but they may as well be. Sakura could always tell when Itachi was upset with her, and the look is withering.

Sakura averts her eyes, “Okay, ‘Tachi, maybe I’m just not ready to talk to you after all the Sasuke drama.”

“But that’s what I need to talk to you about—”

“No.” Sakura crosses her arms, digging deep for some mettle. “Seriously, I know you’re his brother, but no thank you. He doesn’t need you to defend him.”

Itachi recoils at that, surprising Sakura with the hurt that flickers across his face, “I’m not here just because I’m his brother, I care about you too. I’ve known you since you were little, and whatever’s going on between you two is a big mistake.”

Gaara’s voice intercedes, “Hey, guy.” He appears at Sakura’s side, shifting to stand slightly in front of her, “Do we have a problem?”

Itachi blinks at him, turning slightly to face Sakura, “Sakura, who is this clown? He can’t be serious.”

Gaara bristles, but Sakura is faster, “You knock that the fuck off right now, Itachi. Don’t you talk to my friends that way.” Sakura steps past Gaara, an accusatory finger poking Itachi’s chest. She half-whispers, seething, “What’s going on between Sasuke and me is, first of all, not your business.” With her other hand, she gestures at the other students in the bottleneck, most of whom were politely pretending they weren’t eavesdropping on the argument. “Why don’t you ask Sasuke what he did instead of embarrassing me in front of all these people?”

The bottleneck finally starts to break, students eager to get away from the awkward scene. Some of Itachi’s friends call out to him, catching up. Sakura moves toward the exit, Gaara trailing behind, his eyes narrowed at the elder Uchiha and the rabble of noisy upperclassmen that joined him.

“Ah, Sakura, wait—” Itachi calls out, “I’m sorry—”

But Sakura is out the door as fast as she can manage, speed walking in any direction to get out of there. The nerve, she seethes, her fists clenched. The nerve of those goddamn Uchihas. 

“Hey!” Gaara jogs to catch up to her, “Jesus, you’re pretty quick.”

Sakura blinks at him, watching as he struggles with his backpack. “I already forgot you stole all that fruit. So, like, a midnight snacker?” 

“I guess you could say that.” He shrugs. “Do you have class?”

“Not until later, I was just planning to hang out and study until my class starts.”

“If you have a while, I could show you the greenhouse,” Gaara reaches up, pretending to make himself look busy by fiddling with his backpack strap.

“There’s a greenhouse on campus?” That piques Sakura’s interest. 

“Yeah, the Ag department runs it. They grow vegetables and herbs right now, but there’s a push in the Gardening Club to rearrange and add some flowers.”

“Yeah, let’s go!” Sakura beams, “Are you in the Gardening Club?” Sakura watches him give a curt nod, his ears red, and she doesn’t want him to be embarrassed about it, so she coos, “That’s pretty cool, Gaara.” 

He gives her a wisp of a smile, leading the way past the Agriculture building and toward a large greenhouse on the other side. There’s another student there, and they both greet her politely before Gaara starts to give Sakura a tour.

Sakura’s never known much about plants, but Gaara touches them so gingerly as he introduces each of them—Sakura had previously thought that there were two types of tomato, cherry and regular, and she is evidently very wrong—that Sakura can’t help but feel endeared. 

“Ah, this one is ready.” Gaara takes a look around for the other club member. “Hinata, is this the first ripe tomato?”

“No,” the girl’s voice calls back from somewhere behind a shelf full of potted plants where she is working. “Haku picked a couple yesterday. You can have it.”

Gaara thanks her, turning to Sakura, his eyes bright. “Oh, I didn’t ask. Do you even like tomatoes?” 

Sakura did not, in fact, care for tomatoes—and she always thought it looked nasty when Sasuke ate them fresh, but Gaara looks so excited about it that she says, “I’ve never tried just a tomato by itself.”

“It’s good,” he picks the tomato, bringing it over to a small faucet attached to the wall so that he can rinse it off for her. “You just take a bite like an apple. It’s better on a sandwich, with mayo, salt, and pepper.”

Sakura smiles politely, steeling herself with a final look at his expectant face and taking a bite. She isn’t a fan of the texture, but the taste itself isn’t bad, and she swallows it without making a face. After a second, honestly, it’s fine. “Honestly, that surprised me. It was juicy, but I thought it was going to be too squishy.”

“That’s because you’re used to eating shit tomatoes,” he smirks victoriously, like getting her to admit it isn’t awful is some big feat, and he pulls back the tomato to take a bite from the same spot. 

It must register at the same time for them both, their cheeks heating up, and Sakura quickly distracts herself with a shelf full of succulents, “Oh, these are cute! Look, this one’s so teeny and funny looking.” She averts her eyes, thinking about indirect kisses with this Gaara and real kisses in the woods with the other.

Gaara seems grateful for the opportunity to brush it off, launching into the care instructions for the different types of succulents. 

Hinata approaches to chime in, offering Sakura a warm smile as she introduces each succulent by name—At one point, the club thought it would be funny to name them all after other fruits and vegetables. 

Sakura announces that her favorite is the small, fuzzy one in the blue pot named Zucchini. 

Hinata giggles at that, “You have to talk to your favorite plants to make them grow, you know.” She side eyes Gaara slyly, perhaps thinking Sakura wouldn’t notice, “We could always use some fresh faces around the club. Maybe Gaara can let you know when the next meeting is, if you’re interested?”

Gaara’s eyes widen before he feigns nonchalance,  “That would be cool, I mean, if you want to come…?”

Sakura inwardly beams at Hinata—She looks familiar, like Sakura’s seen her around their dorm hall. Well, why not? “Yeah, that sounds fun. I’ve been meaning to take a look for some clubs to join.” 

That’s a fib. Her world had revolved for many years around Sasuke, his family, and school. She hadn’t even looked for clubs she might be interested in, but… it couldn’t hurt to put herself out there and expand that world a little bit, right?

Ino is waiting for Sakura after class. More specifically, Ino is waiting with a post-breakup care package. She’s free of makeup, her hair yanked into a messy bun, and Sakura’s never seen her in less flattering pajamas. 

They maintain wordless eye contact for a solid minute before Sakura slowly closes the door. She cracks a joke to break the ice, “So, the body snatchers got my roommate, huh?”

Ino stands up, fidgeting with her hands, “Sakura, I know you probably don’t want to talk about whatever happened—least of all with me—but like, we live together. And I don’t want to see you all weepy about it, so, uh,” she nudges the box on her desk, “I put some stuff together than helps me when boy stuff is stupid, and you don’t have to talk about any of it with me if you don’t want to.” She starts to pull things out of the box, “I’ve got pizza coupons, face masks, mani-pedi stuff, Legally Blonde, most importantly wine—I know some of this isn’t really your style, but, you know, I just thought—”

“Ino.”

“Like maybe some stupid girl stuff isn’t what you need, and I wish I had a better idea of what would help, but I saw Facebook this morning when I woke up hungover at Shika’s frat and I thought I had to do something—”

“Ino.” Sakura takes a step forward, opening her arms up for a hug. 

The blonde eagerly accepts, wrapping her arms around Sakura, “Maybe I’m not who you want to be there for you right now, but I am, if you need anything, okay?” 

“Thank you, Ino,” Sakura’s surprised by the warmth she feels. “I’ve never done a face mask in my life, but let’s give it a whirl.”

“God, your fucking perfect skin and you’ve never done a face mask,” Ino sniffles. “Okay, let me order the pizza.” She pulls away, moving to grab her coupons. 

Sakura nods, her own eyes a little watery. She’s surprised at Ino, taking a step forward like that. Things might not be perfect between them right now, maybe never again. But that doesn’t mean Sakura can’t take some steps too. She can open up, maybe, a tiny bit. As Ino orders online, Sakura admits, “Sasuke actually broke up with me a few days ago, over text message. Says he met someone else.”

Ino looks at her, blue eyes wide. She sets her phone on her desk, and any doubt Sakura holds about whether or not Ino herself was the other woman dissipates as her face melts into unbridled rage. “That fuckhead did what?” 

Sakura snorts at that, moving to pick through the package of face masks. “But honestly, I’m… kind of fine? Is it wrong to be kind of fine?”

It’s a good night. Sakura is wine drunk by the end of it. With Ino’s help, she’s stuffed with pizza, reciting Legally Blonde in tandem, and has purged her social media. Their printed photos together? Cut to bits. His anniversary cards to her? Burned, their charred embers doused with water in their metal trash can as they drunkenly fanned smoke away from the fire alarm and opened the window. His hoodies? Politely packaged and waiting for Ino to drive-by-stuff them into Itachi’s mailbox to minimize potential Sasuke exposure. 

When she finally drifts off, she’s wrapped in her comforter on the floor, Ino snoring loudly next to her. She can see the credits rolling on Ino’s laptop as her eyes grow heavy, but she’s too tired—or maybe too drunk—to bother getting up to stop the movie.

♡ ♥ ♡

Gaara insists on walking Sakura home—partly because of the mysterious rustling in the woods, and partly because he needs to know where she lives in order to pick her up in the morning. He looks stiff and alert, scanning all of the faces they come across to determine if they are friendly. His hand lingers close enough to hers that Sakura thinks he wants to hold it, and he’s too nervous to ask.

So, bridging that small distance, she takes his hand in her own and intertwines their fingers. She smiles when she sees the tension in his shoulders melt. Maybe he looks a little intimidating, Sakura muses, but he’s a total softie to her. It’s refreshing, considering how hard she had to work for affection with Sasuke, to have someone that visibly relaxed when she held his hand. 

“Am I walking too quickly for you?” Gaara asks softly.

“No,” Sakura quips, “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“Oh.” He’s quiet the rest of the way, and as they finally enter the main part of town, Sakura starts to lead the way to her home. When they arrive, they linger at her steps, his hand still holding hers firmly. “Thank you for walking me home,” she says, loosening her grip, expecting him to do the same.

He doesn’t, fingers still holding her tightly, and he nods his head at her, “Of course. I will see you first thing tomorrow.” He says it like he’s reminding himself, eyes flickering down to his hand on hers as he hesitantly releases her fingers. 

Sakura tugs on his sleeve as he starts to turn, “Gaara?”

His head turns back to her, and he makes a soft noise of surprise when Sakura moves to kiss him. It’s a brief peck, nothing to write home about, but he stands there in a shocked stupor afterward.

“Sorry,” Sakura fumbles, “is it okay that I gave you a kiss goodbye? I should have asked first—”

Gaara reaches and cups her cheeks in his hands, eagerly pulling her to him as he presses his lips to hers. It’s soft, more lingering than hers, and there’s no urgency in it when he pulls away. The way he looks at her after, his eyes warm and fond—well, if Sakura had a visible heart meter like he did, surely it would’ve changed a color or two. “Goodbye,” he starts, his lips grazing her forehead as he spoke in a ghost of a forehead kiss, “until tomorrow.”

Sakura almost tells him to come inside, but she’s too embarrassed to think of what she might do if she did. “Until tomorrow,” she says, and it’s a two-fold promise, she’ll see him every night, literally in her dreams. 

He departs, and Sakura heads into her house, her knees wobbly and weak. 

Sai is sitting on her living room couch, looking up at her with large, dark eyes. “You have a fun date?” 

“Yes,” Sakura gushes. “Fucking hell yes. Not sure that making out in the woods qualifies as a date, but whoever wrote this game script, thank you, thank you, thank you.” She walks to her room, Sai following her up. She starts to change for bed.

Sai politely averts his eyes, a hand shielding them for further protection, “Technically speaking, you write the scripts with your actions. They’re designed to be prone to loving you, sure, but you make yourself easy to love.”

Sakura flops onto her bed. “Yeah?”

Sai flops beside her, mimicking her sprawl, “Yeah.”

“So, I’m totally sloshed in real life. Why am I sober here?”

“Sloshed?”

“It means drunk.” 

“Ah, I see. We don’t process things like that here, it’s more of a basis of who you are. If you sprain your ankle here, you won’t feel it there, and vice versa.” Sai sits up in the bed, looking out the window and humming to himself, “That’s interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

Sai turns to her, smiling innocently, “Aren’t you supposed to be working on your jutsu?”

Sakura groans, but she sits up in bed, crossing her legs. “Yes, mom,” she huffs, closing her eyes and trying to call her chakra. She feels nothing tangible, not even the poof of smoke she felt last time. She practices until the sun goes down, sitting on her bed, calling for an energy she doesn’t understand and isn’t even certain she has. She practices well into the night, in the dark of her room, figuring that the darkness would help her concentrate on the chakra inside her. If the game guide is pushing her jutsu practice, it’s probably fundamental to the game, so she has to get this down.

But exhaustion comes for her, and before she knows it, she’s snuggling into her pillows and swearing she’ll rest for five minutes and be right back at it. 

A hard shove rouses her, and Sakura yelps as she falls off her bed, tangled in her blanket. “Sai,” she seethes at him, standing there in the moonlight from her window, “you scared me half to death.”

He raises a finger to his lips to shush her and steps into the shadows, disappearing and letting the game resume. 

Before Sakura can call him back and ask what that was about, her bedroom window is yanked up with a loud crack. The hinges give with the force. 

Sakura inhales sharply, frightened by the figure blocking out the moonlight. In the dark, she tries to untangle herself from the covers. She tries to remember where any of her useful weapons are, a free hand fumbling along the wall.

“Sakura?”

Relief overwhelms her, and she calls back out, “Gaara? Is that you?”

“Yes.” He stoops to enter through her open window, “I heard you scream.”

She can practically feel him scanning her room in the dark, searching for some source of danger—Shinobi can see in the dark? Can she see in the dark? “I was having a nightmare and I fell out of bed,” she lies, finding the light switch and making a mental note of where her weapons actually are. She gives pause at the look on his face: fierce, like he was ready to fight anyone who he might have found in here hurting her. “But Gaara, what were you doing here?”

Gaara still has the sense to be mortified, his expression melting into one of embarrassment, clearly looking for some sort of excuse as to why he would be in close enough proximity to her bedroom to have heard her yelp and coming up short. So, crossing his arms sheepishly, he tells the truth, “I was standing guard.”

“Against what?”

He hesitates, before admitting, “I’m not sure. Whatever interrupted us in the woods earlier wasn’t an animal—I didn’t even detect its presence before it fled, and I didn’t like it.” 

“But…” Sakura fumbles groggily, making her way back to her bed, “But aren’t you tired?” Now that the danger was revealed to be just Gaara, she’s back to being exhausted.

“I don’t sleep deeply,” Gaara answers her, averting his eyes. “It’s more like meditation. I have… nightmares that keep me from falling into a deep sleep.” 

Sakura squints at him, wondering why he’s avoiding eye contact—and then she realizes he's embarrassed because she’s in her pajamas. Pfft, cute. “Well, you don’t have to sleep, but it’s too early to go train,” she gestures to the dark sky outside, “and I’m not going to let you sit outside now that I know you’re here, so you may as well come to bed.” Sakura fixes her blanket, curling up underneath. 

He doesn’t respond. 

Peeking over at him, Sakura is amused with what she finds: Gaara is standing in the middle of the room, arms still crossed, face crimson, looking so embarrassed he may burst. 

“Turn the light off when you come, please,” Sakura speaks up, hoping a call of action will rouse him from his stupor. When he still doesn’t move, she gently calls out again, “Gaara, if you come to bed we can cuddle, hmm?”

“Alright,” Gaara says so quietly that Sakura almost misses it, discarding his gourd and shoes on the floor and moving to switch off the light with a shaking hand. The room goes dark once more, and Sakura’s only indication that Gaara has crossed the room at all is the gentle weight that settles on the other half of her bed.

“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, Gaara,” Sakura whispers, because that’s what complete darkness does, it makes everything so heavy she feels like she needs to whisper. “I would be very happy just laying here. You don’t have to cuddle if you don’t want—”

In one fluid movement, Gaara pulls Sakura to his chest. He tucks her head under his chin, his arms wrapping tightly around her, and he mumbles, “I want to.”

Sakura’s heart swells. She nuzzles affectionately into his chest, her arms wrapping around his torso.

“Sakura,” Gaara starts, his voice hesitant, “come with me to Suna. After the Chūnin Exams.”

Sakura’s tempted to just say yes for the hell of it—This is a game, how high can the stakes be? “I’m sure there’s some sort of process to go through. Do you know what I’d have to do?” She’s further tempted to point out that they weren’t even technically dating, that he hasn’t asked her out and they weren’t even at the I-love-you point, so moving across the continent is a bit of a bold suggestion. 

Gaara lets out a small huff, “I don’t know, but I want you to come and be with me.”

Sakura hums softly, her fingers curling in his shirt, “Well then, we’ll figure it out after the Exams. Maybe you could come here.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He hesitates, and then says, “As the son of the Kazekage, there are duties I’m expected to perform at home. Leaving would be impossible.” His fingers lazily play with her hair.

“I see.” Sakura remembers Temari—and the mission. She’s certain Gaara is omitting information. But what if the mission is to one-up everyone in the Chūnin Exams? After all, as the Kazekage’s kids, they must be expected to outperform the other competitors, and Sakura is part of that competition. Maybe Temari only meant, considering they were strangers at the time, that they shouldn’t be friends with Sakura and Naruto, and telling Gaara she’s suspicious of him would only hurt his feelings. Besides, if he was evil or something, why get involved with her in the first place? And—

Gaara shifts, his nose brushing hers, before he diverts and begins to graze his lips along Sakura’s neck. 

Sakura squeaks, her thoughts becoming a jumbled mess as his teeth skim her favorite spot.

Gaara chuckles softly, pulling her up by the waist and rolling so that she sat on his lap. His hands steady her hips and her palms, seeking balance, press onto his chest.

“Gaara,” Sakura teases to hide how flustered she is, “what’s gotten into you?”

“Come with me to Suna,” he says again, shifting to prop himself up on her headboard so that he is level enough to resume the ghosts of kisses along her neck, “and I will make you my bride.” 

Sakura gasps softly, at both the sudden proposal and the wonderful little trails he’s started to make with his tongue, “Gaara, I–” she squeaks, writhing on his lap, which in turn makes him tense, “We’re supposed to be dating before you ask me to marry you! We haven’t—any of the normal dating stuff, we—”

“I understand,” Gaara hums, pulling her into an embrace, his breath against her earlobe, his cheek nuzzled to hers. “You’re right. We’ll take it slow. I apologize for pushing you.” 

Sakura wonders whether or not she is ready to be, well, intimate. After all, Sasuke was the only one she’d ever been with, and not to say it wasn’t fine, they were just both so busy and he wasn’t exactly the passionate type. Sex had been relatively infrequent, especially as they fought more, and their general intimacy had suffered. In fact, she muses, dousing the mood with Sasuke would have resulted in a several hour bitchfit where he complained that if she wanted intimacy, why was she being so cold when he offered—? Sakura reminds herself to not think about Sasuke.

Instead, Gaara slowly rolls her back onto the bed, pulling her back into a comfortable spot against his chest. “Sakura Haruno,” he says gently, trying to rouse her from her daze.

“Yes? I—Ah, I’m sorry,” Sakura starts.

“Don’t be sorry,” Gaara’s hand traces lazily down her back, “I’ve never been so content in my life. You’ll be hard pressed to get me out of bed for training when the sun rises.”

Sakura nearly grumbles at that, as she’s been up late training her jutsu already, but instead she curls into his chest and mumbles, “Tell me more about yourself, Gaara.”

His hand stills on her back, and he admits, “I’m afraid to tell you. Afraid that you’ll think less of me, that you’ll understand I’m a monster.”

Sakura presses her ear to his chest where—were they further apart—the visual of his heart meter would appear. Sure enough, his heart beats steadily in his chest. Gently, she moves to press a kiss to the spot through the thin fabric of his shirt, “You feel like a man to me.”

So he tells her. Gaara tells her about his mother and the cruel name she gifted him, the monster who could only love himself. He tells her about his father, a cold man who saw a weapon in his youngest son to kill his enemies, and how he alienated his siblings from him. He tells her about a sad, lonely life as an outcast for a demon sealed in him at birth, and that he lives in terror that he’ll be unable to control the demon and it will take him over entirely, how he fears that if he sleeps at night the demon will eat him away until he’s nothing. He tells her about a betrayal at his uncle’s hand, how he swore that his mother’s name for him rang true and that Gaara must never love anyone or risk being terribly hurt, and hurting them in return.

As he tells her these terrible things, tears well in her eyes, horror in her heart. “Gaara,” Sakura whispers to him in the dark, “none of those things make you the monster.” Her tears drip down her face, and they must seep through his shirt, because his fingers come up to wipe them from her cheeks.

“You’re crying,” he murmurs, hesitant, afraid of the answer, “have I frightened you?”

“No, Gaara,” Sakura reaches for his hand, pulling it to her mouth to press kisses along the fingers that had so gently wiped her tears, “I’m upset at the thought of you having to go back there, to that terrible place, where they are so cruel to you.”

“I could bear it, if you were there. I told you; I will protect you.”

“I’ll protect you,” Sakura reaches up to cup his cheek and finds it wet with his own tears. “I’ll go with you Gaara, I absolutely will.”

“Sakura, I—” Gaara rests his chin on top of her head, content with her safe against his chest, “Thank you.”

And they stay, Sakura dozing off in his arms, Gaara’s cheek pressed into her hair, until the first rays of sunlight peek through her windows.

“Sakura,” Gaara traces his fingertips along her cheek. “It’s time to wake up. We have a long day of training ahead.”

“Mmn,” Sakura mumbles softly in her sleep, “five more minutes, Gaara.”

Gaara lets out a soft pfft, his thumb tracing Sakura’s bottom lip. “You think you can make that cute face and get whatever you want?”

“Yes?” Sakura mumbles, snuggling determinedly into his chest.

Gaara grunts in response, “Five more minutes.” So he waits, enjoying her warmth, for significantly longer than five minutes before gently waking her again.

Sakura opens her eyes, still sleepy, but content. It’s strange that she still needs rest in this world too. She pulls back and stretches, secretly delighted with Gaara’s quiet grumble as she pulls away. “I’m up,” Sakura says unconvincingly, “I’m up.” 

Gaara reaches forward to smooth down her bed head. “Get ready, I will find something for you to eat.” 

“Wait,” Sakura calls out, pulling him in for a swift kiss on the nose. “Okay, go ahead.”

There are those fond eyes again, his ears tipped red as his hair. “As much as I would like to stay here and hold you for the rest of the day,” he climbs out of bed, collecting his belongings and shooting her a final glance from her bedroom door, “I have to help you prepare for the Exam.” She can see his heart meter beaming a bright yellow, a growth from budding romance to one of deeper trust. 

Sakura doesn’t have the heart to say the Chūnin Exams will probably work out fine, because—well, because she doesn’t know that for sure, and he only wants to keep her safe. “Alright,” she sighs, getting up to go get dressed, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

As he goes, Sakura thinks about his heart meter, and feels a little bittersweet instead of victorious. The route is supposed to end when it turns red, and there’s only orange left before that happens. 

Sakura meets Gaara in her kitchen, hair braided and dressed for the day. She hates braiding her own hair, but when Gaara affectionately tugs on the braid with a wisp of a smile, she decides the effort is at least a little worth it.

He’s made a quick breakfast—toast with jam, and a variety of fruits. “We don’t have some of these in Suna,” he muses, taking a bite of an apple. 

They eat quickly, ready to leave, and soon they are heading to a training ground that Gaara had scoped out before settling in to guard her house. Sakura isn’t sure what to expect from his training—another mini game, perhaps—and she is very wrong.

Sakura flops onto the field by noon, groaning at her exhaustion, “No more! I’m not moving ever again.” She knows this is a game, but her muscles sure burn like it’s real. 

“Come on, Sakura,” Gaara urges her, “we have the entire rest of the day.”

Most of the physical activities weren’t extremely difficult on their own. Sakura did sports mostly through high school, quitting her senior year as college applications, her relationship, and her internships took over her life. It’s just the continuous repetition of them wearing her down. Gaara made her practice her ninjutsu when she needed a break from moving, but with her heart pounding and her muscles screaming, it was difficult to concentrate on anything—let alone her chakra, which continues to taunt her by manifesting as smoke when she tries to substitute herself with a wooden log they’d positioned across the training field.

“The rest of the day,” Sakura scoffs at him. “Just leave me to die.”

Gaara crosses his arms, frowning at her, “If you can run your mouth, you can run your laps.”

“I don’t see you running any laps, mister,” Sakura grumbles. 

“I have a wall of chakra infused sand to protect me. You have your speed and your strength. Get up and spar with me.”

Sakura huffs, her knees wobbly, her thighs shaking, but she stands and lets him guide her into a fighting stance. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Gaara takes his own fighting stance, looking pleased with her. The sand swirls around his gourd protectively.

She launches at him, but with every punch, there is the shield of sand to stop it. He’s acting purely defensively, sand blocking her as though it’s her opponent. In the real world, his aloof attitude and the fact that he personally isn’t fighting back would’ve pissed her off. Here, it’s obvious she’s outmatched, but she keeps trying. If she could land a single hit, she’d be satisfied. 

“You’re giving away your attacks,” he would say, giving her advice. Try putting some chakra in your punches; you’re holding back on your follow through because you don’t believe in your hits; try to mix in sweeping your leg at their feet to disturb your opponent’s balance. 

Sakura feels herself growing frustrated, beyond the exhaustion already weighing on her body. “I’m never going to get a hit on you.” She feels her eyes watering with that frustration, and then another surge of frustration because she’s crying about it, but at this point it’s been hours and all she’s done is punch sand.

Gaara slowly blinks at her, remembering that they haven’t known each other all their lives and she’s never seen him in combat. “Sakura,” Gaara moves forward to gently wipe her tears with his sleeve, “you’re not training to fight me. I’ve never been injured in combat.”

“Never?” Sakura asks, surprised. 

“Never,” he affirms, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “I will help you become stronger Sakura, but the goal here is to give you a fighting chance in the arena. No one becomes strong overnight, but if I didn’t make the attempt and something happened to you…” Gaara trails off, moving to pull her in, wrapping his arms securely around her.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” Sakura flushes. “Gaara, I’m all sweaty.”

He grunts, as though to say he doesn’t care, but he releases her.

“How about I try the substitution jutsu again?” She offers, her sore fists craving a break.

He nods, pleased at that, and he takes a seat next to Sakura as she meditates. 

She reaches out into the void for that supposed something, that energy to convert into jutsu. She thinks of the log that she’d marked, targeting her energy toward it. She calls out into the void inside her, and this time, the void answers back.

There is the sharp smell of smoke, and Sakura opens her eyes to find herself across the field. She blinks groggily, and from this far she can just make out the pride on Gaara’s face.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route One: Gaara of the Desert - Yellow Heart

Sakura’s knees wobble as she relies on Gaara, who looks more than pleased both to help her home and for the extra contact, despite the fact that she’s never felt more disgusting in her life. It’s been a long day, with a break in the afternoon to force down a small lunch in the hopes she wouldn’t throw it up—Suna training is tough, like its shinobi.

As he notices her struggling, he hoists her into his arms. “That’s enough exertion for today,” he says to her as she tucks her head securely into his chest, her eyelids heavy. “You did very well.”

“I did?” Sakura asks, ready to succumb to sweet sleep.

“Yes,” Gaara murmurs as he carries her home, “it was a solid first day. Your punches are already swift, and you’ll quickly make progress with your chakra now that you’ve accessed it a few times.”

“Hell yeah,” Sakura whispers, cheek pressed to his chest, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat in her ear as she dozes.

Sakura desperately craves a shower, assuring Gaara she’ll be fine on her own. He’d insisted on staying nearby in case, Sakura supposes, she fainted or something. She finally convinces him with logic she knew would appeal to him: if he grabbed his things, he is more than welcome to stay here instead of some inn. 

In response, he shamelessly vanishes in a swirl of sand, and he’s back before she finishes her shower. 

When she emerges, holding her towel and patting her damp hair, he’s sitting on her bed, already showered. “Wow, you’re quick,” Sakura muses, crumpling the towel in her arms. “I assumed you were going to grab your stuff and shower after me.” She tosses the towel into a small hamper next to her bathroom, damp hair falling over her shoulders.

“I didn’t want to impose,” he says. 

“You’re never imposing.” Sakura walks over to the bed, flopping down and groaning after her long day.

Gaara flops down as well, closing his eyes, “You smell nice.”

“Strawberry conditioner,” Sakura quips. “My favorite. Use it if you like.” It’s something to ask Sai about, how her house is always stocked—with food, and in this case, conditioner in her favorite scent. Does the app learn this from her phone somehow? 

Gaara lets out a soft, “Mmhmm.” His hands reach out for her, rolling her so that he can wrap his arms around her. 

Sakura doesn’t protest, quickly falling into that drowsy place from being in his arms before, when a loud voice startles her awake.

t T t

“Sakura!” It’s Ino, of course it’s Ino, “Sakura, shit—!” There’s a loud thump. 

Sakura’s eyes flutter open, a moment of confusion before a sharp pain forces her lashes shut. “Jesus, fuck,” she seethes. 

“We’re late,” Ino nudges her with a foot, “Up, Sakura! You’re late for class, it’s 11:15.”

“Ino,” Sakura groans, dramatically curling up into a lump in her covers, still sprawled out on the floor, “it’s Saturday. Either let me sleep or kill me, you deranged bitch.” 

There’s a blessed moment of silence. Ino whispers a quiet, “Oh, shit, sorry.” 

Sakura, her eyes still closed as she tries to reclaim sleep, thinks of Gaara’s arms wrapped around her in the game. Her workout clearly had no effect on the real world, as Sai told her, but she’d forgotten about the wine. Her head’s pounding. 

She stays curled up, trying her hardest to remember the feeling of his chest pressed to her back and his arms around her. She hears Ino leave—probably to go take a shower—and as Sakura starts to give up on falling back asleep. She murmurs to herself, “Idiot, you can’t have a crush on a game.”

When she rouses herself, gathering her blankets from the floor and courteously setting Ino’s computer on her desk, she checks her phone. To her surprise, Sasuke texted her again: “You left something in my dorm. Let me know when it’s good for you to pick it up.” She snorts at that. She’d ignored his breakup message, changed her status, ignored his follow-up to that requesting to talk—Seriously, what else does she have to do? Hire a skywriter? Sakura texts him back: “Either give it to Itachi to pass on or toss it. Thanks.” She hopes that will be the end of that, but she suspects it won’t be. 

Sakura cleans herself up, claiming one of the shower stalls and enjoying the scalding water. Afterward, she and Ino pick up food—They saw Kankurō, which is a pleasant surprise, and he gives a friendly wave but he doesn’t approach the girls to sit with them. 

“Oh, hey,” Sakura notices two familiar faces, “I know them. Shino! Hinata!” 

Ino perks up, “You made friends? I feel like a proud mother.”

Sakura shushes her as the pair wanders over.

Hinata greets her brightly, claiming a chair. Shino sits next to her. 

Sakura introduces Ino, explaining sheepishly, “I met Shino at the library, and Hinata in the Gardening Club. Actually, Ino, that sounds right up your alley. Gaara is supposed to text me when the next meeting is, if you want to come.”

Ino, the daughter of a florist, is immediately intrigued, asking Hinata all sorts of questions. The impending flower debate comes up, Hinata describing the new flowers they intend to introduce to the greenhouse with a dreamy smile on her face.

“So,” Sakura stage whispers to Shino while the other two are distracted, “you and Hinata…?”

“Childhood friends and neighbors,” he chuckles. “Hinata’s been in love with the same boy since we were four. It’s pretty funny, actually. They share a brain cell, and when he’s around, it’s never her turn to use it.” 

“Wh—We do not share a brain cell,” Hinata huffs, sliding into their conversation. “Romantic stuff just makes me nervous!”

Sakura smiles warmly, “It makes everyone nervous. It’s cool you guys have known each other since you were little.” There’s a shared look between Ino and Sakura, a kind of understanding. They’ve known each other since they were little too, but all those years of animosity over… Sasuke? And are they friends now? Working on it?

“Yeah, Kiba too. He lived on the other side of Shino. And I have a cousin skulking around here somewhere,” Hinata beams, before picking a roasted potato wedge off her plate with a fork and popping it into her mouth.

“Can’t forget Naruto,” Shino quips.

Hinata chokes on her potato wedge, swatting lightly against his arm.

“You’ve killed her,” Ino guffaws, sliding Hinata her own cup of water.

Hinata takes a few gulps, calming down, her face flushed crimson, “Don’t say his name so casually.”

“Who is this guy, Voldemort?” Ino snags a french fry from Sakura’s plate, dipping it in her ketchup, and she does it so confidently that Sakura barely registers it.

Sakura offers a quiet smile. She knows perfectly well who Naruto is: her loud, bubbly teammate. Well, in the game of course. So, they really are real. She’s seen plenty of people from real life in the game—Ino, Sasuke, the Sand Siblings. She doesn’t remember seeing Hinata, but the paleness of her eyes—They must be a light blue, the iciest blue she can imagine, or she’d dare to say they were white—reminds her of a character in the game, Neji Hyūga. In game, those eyes were definitively white. There’s other differences. Sakura dyes her hair, for example, but in the game it’s natural. She’s checked. No one grows pink stubble. 

“Hey,” Ino taps Sakura on the side of the head, “space-case, are you done eating?”

Sakura sticks her tongue out at her in response, swatting the girl’s hand away. She starts to tidy up, grabbing her cup and loading it on the tray. The group goes to put their trays up together, with promises to see each other soon. 

Sakura is a girl on a mission, and that mission is a ten page report due in two weeks. It’s easy to get caught up in the infinitely more interesting world of her dreams, and the research that has entailed, but she’d be damned if she fell behind in her studies. Sakura is a firm believer that a woman can have it all: in her case, the accolades and a swoony redhead ninja to cuddle up to in her dreams. Ino has sworn her to a bonfire tonight, hosted at a nearby frat house, so Sakura has a few hours to start plotting her first draft before Ino would be badgering her to get ready.

Okay, she muses, fingers dancing over her laptop keyboard. An Anatomy research paper based on any topic related to any unit from the syllabus. At least four scholarly sources. She can do this, academics are her bread and butter. 

Sakura glances over at Ino, tucked in bed and taking a pre-party nap.

Maybe she could get comfortable writing if she props herself up in bed? This is an awfully uncomfortable desk chair, right? Right. She gathers up her laptop, settling in her bed and using some pillows to prop herself comfortably. Much better.

She starts to skim some sources, looking for articles that piqued her interest and ideas that she could bare delving into for ten pages. Some of it is interesting, medical articles that could potentially make for a good argument if she found supplemental sources, and she bookmarks a few pages for later review. She takes the time to open a word document, setting up her title and citation pages.

She glances back over at Ino, her eyelids heavy. Well, it’s not like she could do her productive reading this exhausted. Sakura would be much more efficient after a short nap. She sets her laptop toward the end of her bed, curling up to get comfortable. 

♡ ♥ ♡

Her heart hammers as her eyes flutter open. She knows the whole thing is illogical—Gaara is a bunch of pixels, not a boyfriend, not someone who genuinely loves her. But as she wakes up next to him, his face nuzzling into the back of her neck, Sakura feels a pang in her heart anyway. She’s just about to close her eyes and get comfortable when, between blinks, Sai appears, sitting on her floor so that she can see him through the moonlight from her window. 

“What’s with that expression?” he says, pale skin reflecting the light as though he’s softly glowing, a ghost here to disturb her relaxing night. 

Sakura hesitates, “Sai, what happens when I finish the route?”

He blinks at her slowly, smile thin and unwavering, “I don’t understand the question. When you finish the route, the route ends.”

“No, but like, what’s going to happen to Gaara?”

“Hmm,” Sai considers her question, “I’ve already told you, Sakura. You lose the romance points, keep the friendship points, and you start a new route.”

“So Gaara won’t remember me anymore?” Sakura presses, her heart heavy. “Can’t I just keep playing this route?” 

“That’s not how this works,” he shakes his head softly at her. “You could always replay the route, but it would be like starting over. The file for your current route isn’t lost when you finish, per se… later in the game, you’ll start unlocking second acts and special events. But if you start over, you start over and you lose access to the second act or events until you’ve completed the first act again. And, unless you make the exact same choices, there’s no guarantee it would turn out the same.”

“Oh,” Sakura says, her fingers skimming Gaara’s arms around her. Gaara is already at a yellow heart. Orange is next, and then red, and then it’s over. The colors changing felt like small victories before, another step to the end goal of getting rid of Sasuke, but without her… without her, what happens to Gaara? 

“Don’t be sad, Sakura,” Sai approaches, leaning down and gently tapping her nose. “This is meant to be fun. As I understand it, love is a beautiful thing, and this is a place to play. You should make the most of every opportunity to experience a different type of love. And then, in the real world, can’t you choose what you like best?” 

Sakura isn’t exactly satisfied with that—This world certainly feels real, and the inevitability of knowing there’s nothing she can do to continue here with Gaara weighs on her—but she does her best to smile reassuringly, “I guess I’ll just have to enjoy my time with him. Thanks for the advice.”

Sai nods curtly, “Yes, I’ve read about this sort of thing in preparation for you needing to hear it. You’re welcome. Call me if you need me.” He disappears between blinks. 

Sakura is surprised when Gaara’s arms tighten around her. “Mm,” he mumbles in the husky voice Sakura misses when she isn’t playing, “can’t sleep?” 

“You could tell?” Sakura asks, surprised.

“Of course,” he pulls a hand back to softly brush through her hair. 

Duh, Sakura chides herself. Gaara’s an excellent shinobi, and he doesn’t really sleep. She starts to roll over so she can face him, and she shushes his grumbles about her moving with a kiss. If the route is going to come to an end, she decides, she may as well learn to embrace the heartache and enjoy herself.

“Aren’t you tired?” Gaara chuckles into their kisses, a small smile on his lips.

“No,” she fibs. This body is exhausted, sore from their training, but her real body is fine and she hates to waste the limited time she has here. 

The dawn comes too soon for the pair wrapped in each other’s arms, and with it, Sakura’s nap comes to an end.

♡ ♥ ♡

Ino couldn’t help but peek at Sakura’s computer screen, wondering why she has that easy grin on her face while she works on homework. She doesn’t question it—It’s a relief to see Sakura in such a good mood—but if she didn’t know any better, if she didn’t know for a fact that Sakura just woke up from a nap and started chugging away on some bullshit paper, she’d say that’s the satisfied expression of a girl who just had excellent sex. 

Of course, as Ino already knew, that couldn’t be the case, so Ino chalks it up to a very good dream and starts to get ready for the bonfire. Maybe Sakura’s luck is turning around.

♡ ♥ ♡

The next few weeks until the Second Exam go by faster than Sakura would have liked. In the real world, her life is fuller than it’s ever been. Ino has nudged her into her circle, and Sakura’s built new friendships that she holds close to her heart. It isn’t a usual experience for her, to be near the center of a social circle, and balancing a budding social life with her academics. Her report? Flawless. The Gardening Club? She’s attended two of the meetings, the members are all sweet, she intends to keep going back. Still, her heart is guarded, as she knows the upcoming exams likely indicate the end of her route with Gaara. Even in that, she tries to find some peace. She’s really enjoyed the route—She won’t say she’s in love, she can’t, she knows it’s not real—and that someday she may see him again in a second act. She’s trying to enjoy it for what it is: an experience. Thanks, Sai.

Despite her training, she couldn’t exactly feel her chakra, but it’s become responsive enough to come when directed. Her jutsu abilities are adequate, her aim improved, her physicality unquestionably better, but she still wonders if it’s enough to survive in the forest. Gaara relaxes on their training in the last few days, focusing on survival techniques—how to make a fire, look for clean water, catch fish—that he grew angry the academy hadn’t taught her. Maybe they had, she muses, maybe it just wasn’t in her reading, and it wasn’t something she’d ever bothered to learn in the real world. Had she ever known she was going to be stuck playing a game in her dreams that involves surviving in the woods, well, maybe she would’ve been a Scout. At least it’s something she can study in the real world, although she’s earned a few odd looks from her friends when they notice all the survivalist material she’s suddenly reading up on.

Soon it’s their final night together before the next exam. He’s quizzing her throughout the day, never reprimanding her for being wrong, but she can see his nerves in the soft tremble of his hand as he sets down a cup and in the occasional pained twitch of his lips when he thinks she isn’t looking. They go to bed early, Sakura cocooned in his arms, both quietly wondering what tomorrow would bring.

When the morning comes, the room is solemn. They dress, Sakura taking peeks at Gaara’s stern expression and trying to figure out what he’s thinking. She’s made progress, but clearly she’s not ready for this. What were her teammates thinking? Or her teacher? Sure, Sakura knows it’s a game, but as Gaara fixes them a light breakfast, she feels privately guilty for making him worry about her. 

They walk together, hand in hand, until they reach the outer forest near the arena where they would complete the exam. Gaara slows to a stop and Sakura follows suit, waiting to see why. He bolsters his courage, turning to her and moving his hand to cup her cheek. His fingers toy with a few pink strands of her hair. “Sakura, I want to say that before you answer, I will protect you either way—”

“Yes.”

Gaara’s stern expression falters, lips twitching in a smirk, “Can I finish?”

“Sorry,” Sakura leans her cheek into his palm, “do go on, but before you do, the answer is yes.” 

“Would you—?” Gaara says, ears tipped red. “Would you do me the honor of formally allowing me to court you?” 

Sakura’s eyes glitter with mirth. So, this is how the Sand kids date, huh? Funny, considering they’ve been together, and quite intimately, for weeks now. “Absolutely,” she says before leaning in to kiss him.

He responds greedily, ready to pull her in.

A throat is cleared and when the pair looks, they see Temari standing there, a muted grimace on her face. “Hey there, lovebirds,” she says, some of the snark leaking into her voice, “it’s time to take our positions.”

Gaara pulls back, his hand still cupping her cheek, and he lightly traces his thumb over her skin. “We’ll find each other,” he says, looking at her like he’s saving the memory to hold him over until they’re together again, his eyes warm as they study the details of her face. 

Sakura nods firmly, her nerves bunching up in her gut, “See you soon.” She leaves to go join her teammates, who greet her like it’s really not that unusual for her to not be training with them. She has to stop herself from rolling her eyes at Sasuke acting aloof, reminding herself not to blame the NPCs for their storyline. He’s not a dick, right? She’s just supposed to figure it out for herself, right? At least Naruto is thrilled to see her, buzzing with anticipation for the exam.

Rules are re-explained, scrolls are distributed, gates are assigned. Before Sakura knows it, the gong sounds, and she’s sprinting into the woods with Sasuke on her left and Naruto at her right. The further they go into the tall, lumbering pines, the more the environment around them seems to change from the friendly forest that surrounds the outside of the arena. Everything reeks—it would be easy enough to hide their scent from the other shinobi, Sakura suspects, which is good because she’s already in over her head. Of course, it’s also bad, because she’s fairly confident that overpowering smell is the stench of blood.

Sasuke comes up with a plan, they settle on a code phrase—It seems unnecessarily complicated, and Sakura worries she won’t remember it, but the best solution to that would be to not get separated. Sakura notices that their plans of attack mostly revolve around Naruto and Sasuke. She knows that she’s not exactly a comparably strong ninja right now, sparring with Gaara has made that abundantly clear, but even compared to her own teammates?

An explosion rocks the ground. Sakura retreats, finding foliage to hide behind. She expects a mini-game to start at any moment—or something, really, she can’t just be expected to fistfight her opponents—but instead, all she can feel is the overwhelming instinct that she needs to focus. Okay, so she’s on her own. She looks for her teammates, hands at the ready to bring out her limited arsenal of jutsu. She practiced for this, it’ll be fine. Just a game.

To her surprise, she finds no assailants, only Sasuke. They exchange the pass-phrase, and Sakura’s relieved. Naruto appears moments later, and Sasuke says his half of the phrase again. When Naruto recites his part, Sakura beams, about to greet him and say how happy she is that they’re all fine when Sasuke steps in front of her.

“That’s not Naruto,” Sasuke accuses. “I picked a phrase I knew he would never remember, because I suspected someone was following us.”

Sakura squints at that logic. She almost didn’t remember the phrase either, and while she appreciates the subtle compliment that he assumed she could remember it, how did he really know she hadn’t been replaced? How does she know Sasuke hasn’t been replaced and is just making accusations to throw her off? Well, no, Sasuke’s right, there’s no way Naruto would remember that long phrase. But how does she know that both of them haven’t been replaced and that’s exactly what not-Sasuke would say to throw her off the trail so she wouldn’t expect a double-sabotage.

The tactic works, the enemy appearing in a puff of smoke.

Or maybe, Sakura chides herself, this is a game and she’s really overthinking it.

A fight ensues. Sakura does her best to keep up, trying to remember everything Gaara’s gone through with her. She can feel the game guiding her, sort of like a strong gut instinct—and really, that’s what she’d rather call it instead of it being something sentient. Things quickly grow out of control. More shinobi appear, the symbols on their headbands identifying them as Grass ninja. Sakura and Sasuke share a glance, a mutual understanding that they’re about to have their asses handed to them.

Sasuke surrenders their scroll for their lives. Okay, Sakura thinks, figuring that’s the way the route has to progress. This is meant to be an unbeatable enemy. She watches with mild disgust as the shinobi wraps an unnaturally long tongue around their scroll and swallows it whole. Wide eyed, she quietly mutters, “What the fuck?” She peeks at Sasuke, who thankfully looks equally disgusted and disproves Sakura’s momentary worry that was just a thing people could do here. They’re in big trouble, Sakura muses and eyes the tree-line, which means any moment Gaara is about to come to her rescue. 

The Grass ninja in question peels their face off to reveal another underneath, a face of pale white skin and slim yellow eyes. In a flash, the enemy ninja extends their inhuman neck to clamp fangs into Sasuke’s neck. Everything is still for a moment, and Sakura can only watch in horror as her ex-boyfriend—No, she reminds herself, it’s not him, it’s not real, it’s not real—screams in agony.

“Sasuke!” Sakura cries out, her knees shaking. God, she’s never felt so helpless.

Her rescue comes, not in the form of Gaara—as Sakura hoped and expected—but in the form of a giant snake, collapsing dead on the battlefield as thousands of Narutos erupt from its distended belly. As they burst from the carcass, their enemy flees, and Sakura leaps to catch Sasuke. This Sasuke is her teammate, she reminds herself, hyperventilating as she cradles his unconscious head. This isn’t real. Now, what should she do? She whips her head as pops of smoke indicate the end of the jutsu—certainly not the flimsy clone jutsu she’d learned—and calls out, “Naruto, Sasuke’s hurt!”

But Naruto’s spent as well. His face, twisted in anger, slowly goes back to normal. He collapses onto the thick branch holding them, too far for Sakura to catch.

“Naruto!” Sakura yelps. Now she’s in even worse trouble. What if the wicked man came back? What if anyone came? She’s out here, defenseless, alone, clearly not half as capable—She swallows her fear. If she’s going to survive this and beat this exam, this route, then she needs to keep her wits about her. For survival, she needs access to a shelter where it would be safe to build a fire. Once she’s moved her teammates safely, they need food and clean water. Is the snake edible? Sakura glances at it, its ruptured guts strewn across the forest. Maybe? Did it have poisonous glands, and were they ruptured?

She wonders, briefly, if Gaara is having as tough a time as she is. “I bet Gaara could have taken him,” she grumbles, trying to force the chakra into her feet—as Gaara taught her—so that she could concentrate on walking down this tree.

It’s nearly sunset, and Sakura is on the brink of collapse. Neither Naruto nor Sasuke have woken up yet and, ever the dutiful teammate, Sakura tends to them. She’s too frightened to leave them and wander off, leaving them defenseless. She’s found running water close enough to retrieve comfortably, and has a fire going, but as the sun sinks she fears what might find her thanks to its glow. Thank goodness for small miracles, because if she had to guess, the game would not allow the boys to piss themselves. At least, it hasn’t happened yet.

A branch snaps, startling Sakura. It’s three Sound shinobi, grinning at her menacingly—Well, two, the third has bandages over most of his face.

“Leave us alone,” she holds out a kunai knife, a weapon she’s somewhat familiar with by this point. “We already lost our scroll to another team.” 

“We’re not here for the scroll,” the one with the covered face chuckles menacingly and takes a step forward. “We’re here for the Uchiha.”

Sakura bristles. The stranger starts giving some speech about a test for ‘Lord Orochimaru,’ a test of the seal he’d given Sasuke—the bite, Sakura assumes, which under her care she’d watched blossom from a bite mark to an ugly symbol. She stands, ready to do her best and frustrated enough to crack a jaw, given the opportunity. Fuck these guys, she seethes. Her team has suffered enough.

The fight is brutal. Sakura is outnumbered and outclassed. She’s injured. Still conscious, she reminds herself, and still fighting. Sakura utilizes the simple jutsu at her disposal. At one point, the female shinobi has her by the hair, and she ruthlessly slices through the pink hair she’s tended for years with a kunai. Her main battle is with a boy that shoots sound waves out of his palms. She uses her substitution jutsu, letting one of the shinobi toss kunai into decoy logs until she tricks him by taking the brunt of a hit and finally landing a blow on him. The wounds burn, but pride surges through her. It’s one hit, but it’s one more than she’s had in combat before. He has her pinned, her teeth sunken into his arm as he beats his fits into the crown of her head.

Her wounds burn, her head throbs, but there’s no way—no way—she put in all this training to be bullied on the first day of the tournament by these clowns. If she can’t hit, she’ll bite, and she’ll bite until she can’t anymore. 

Rock Lee is on the scene first, in all his jumpsuit glory, and Sakura’s head is swimming so hard that she barely registers the new voices until they’re gathered around: Ino and two of the people she’d introduced her to in real life, Shikamaru and Chōji. They all hold the enemy ninja at bay, fighting with their all to protect her. 

Sakura is charmed by this—She wasn’t exactly kind while rejecting Lee, even if he was too forward, but here he is saving her anyway. And Ino, who she got on better and better with in the real world, dislikes her here. But here’s her team anyway, in the middle of an exam, defending her.

It’s Sasuke who stops the fight, surprising everyone when he comes to, standing there, asking Sakura to point out who had hurt her. She’s stunned into silence, marveling in confusion at the marks overtaking his body, but the Sound shinobi takes credit for his work. He’s rewarded for his honesty when Sasuke pins him to the ground and, in one fluid motion, snaps both of his arms.

Sakura gags sharply at the noise, recoiling in shock.

He cries out in pain, but Sasuke doesn’t stop, indicating he plans to rip his arms off entirely. He passes out from the pain, but Sasuke continues to twist. Everyone, save Rock Lee who has passed out from overexertion from his own battle, watches in horror.

“Sasuke,” Sakura cries out, rushing forward without thinking, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him back, “please, stop it!” It’s out of hand, it’s a scene straight from a nightmare—Her wounds hurt, her eye is swollen, but fuck, she doesn’t want to watch anyone die. 

Sasuke stills, dropping the young man’s limp arms and letting them flop in the dirt. 

His other two comrades are released from their respective traps, courtesy of Ino and Shikamaru, and collect their fallen teammate. They leave their scroll in exchange for their lives. Words are said about Orochimaru, but Sakura can’t bring herself to pay attention to any of it, her ears ringing as she releases Sasuke and goes over to tend to Lee.

Things deescalate around her. Sasuke is exhausted and sits down to rest, but he’s finally conscious and himself again. Neji and Tenten come to collect Rock Lee and leave. Shikamaru and Chōji rouse Naruto, who bellows about missing the entire battle. Ino offers to even out Sakura’s messily chopped hair, and Sakura numbly accepts, resting on the ground. 

Eventually, Ino’s team has to be on their way, but they help Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto settle into a grove sheltered near a creek. Sakura thanks them for their unexpected help, tears in her eyes, remembering when Kankurō had referred to the Leaf shinobi as weak and wondering how someone could be so fundamentally wrong. They are strong because they protect their own, and do what’s right, and are willing to suffer if it means helping out an ally. They put their own exam at risk to help save her. She wishes, from the very bottom of her heart, to be like them. Someone strong enough to save people.

She wonders, as dusk bleeds into night, how Gaara and his team are faring. Maybe they’ve run into trouble like she did, and that’s why he hasn’t found her yet. Maybe, the heartbroken pessimist in her tugs at the back of her mind, he’s really only worried about passing his own exams. Don’t forget about the mission. She corrects the intrusive thought, thinking instead about how he looked at her, how he wanted to whisk her away, how he’s definitely looking for her and just hasn’t found her yet.

♡ ♥ ♡

Sakura would like to say she paid attention in class, but she would be a liar. Her foot bounces along the floor so much that the student behind her taps her on the shoulder.

“Psst,” he whispers, and Sakura turns to see the Sound shinobi.

Sakura swallows a scream, and he only nudges his perfectly normal, non-ninja sneaker with her tapping foot. 

“You alright?” He asks her, friendly enough.

Sakura says yes, that she’s just fidgety, but all she can think is that she knows the sounds his bones make when they’re shattered. She’s heard him scream, and he’s a complete stranger. No, she’s not alright, he’s literally punched her in the face. She turns away, forcing herself to chug her bottle of water. Does she remember waking up for class today? No. Did she have anything to eat?

♡ ♥ ♡

The next morning, they hunt for food. Sakura blinks, adjusting as Sasuke and Naruto try to come up with some sort of plan. Their encounter with the Sound shinobi had given them a new scroll, so at least they aren’t stuck at zero. Sakura is still stuck in real life, wondering what she did after class, and when she’d fallen asleep. Had she stayed up through the night? She vaguely remembers huddling together by the ashes of the doused fire they couldn’t risk. She misses Gaara, and her warm room. 

They consider opening the scroll, which is strictly against the rules, and using it to attempt to counterfeit the other. They’re interrupted by another Leaf shinobi—Kabuto, as he introduces himself, who says he’s been separated from his teammates and strongly advises they don’t try to open the scroll. 

He teams up with them, offering to help them find their second scroll in exchange for safe passage to the end site, where he hopes his teammates are waiting for him. It seems like a deal so good, Sakura figures it must have been provided by the game code, so she’s eager to agree. Evidently, there are hunters near the middle of the exam site trying to collect as many scrolls as possible in order to eliminate potential competition and prove their strength. With a coordinated attack, and the four of them, they should hopefully be able to best the hunters and find the scroll they need too. Besides, Kabuto is a Leaf shinobi. They can trust him.

As they walk through the woods, Sakura takes pause, her stride catching for a moment as she realizes the giant bug on that tree looks awfully familiar. Still, they keep walking, and walking, and walking—“We’re going in a circle!” Sakura complains, seeing the bug again and completely sure.

The boys all protest that they’re following the sun so they can’t be going around in a circle, but they quickly come around to realize she’s right. That is definitely the same tree, with the same giant millipede. “We’re caught in a genjutsu,” Kabuto says solemnly, “which means a hunter has already found us.” 

Sakura thinks of her last encounter with genjutsu, the classroom numbers, and how the jutsu dispelled once people realized and the trick became too difficult to maintain. They get in formation, preparing for an attack, and sure enough out pops a Grass ninja ready to rumble. The area around them shifts and, to Sakura’s surprise and horror, she finds herself all alone. 

“Th-This is a trick,” she says to herself, fists raised and shaking. “This is all an illusion. My friends are right here.” 

“Are they now?” The enemy is suddenly behind her, morphing through a tree, and against her better judgement, Sakura flees. 

She darts through the forest as fast as her feet can carry her. She can hear the whirr of throwing stars flying from behind and remembers the sharp sting from her previous fight. Sakura’s panting heavily, peeking over her shoulder when she slams full force into a wall. She falls back onto the ground, knowing that the enemy behind her definitely has her now—

“Sakura?” a hushed voice calls from behind the wall, which Sakura recognized with her heart in her throat to be sand, meaning this is Gaara. The sand begins to dissipate, some sucked back into Gaara’s gourd and some curled around him in the air. He stands with his arms crossed, looking at her with wide eyes. Obviously, he didn’t expect her to pop out of the woods. His shock melts into relief, his expression softening for her, but he snaps back into seriousness as he watches the woods behind her for whatever was chasing her. 

Sakura is so overwhelmed that she has no words, only letting out a tiny squeak, her eyes locked onto his face. She hadn’t thought, upon finding him, that he would look so severe. His sand snatches a kunai from the air, aimed for Sakura. The tense moment is broken and, sucking in a breath as she leaps to her feet, she dashes behind Gaara. 

“Stay close to me,” he says, voice harsh, his sand swirling around them. 

Sakura realizes she was wrong. The forest reeks of rot, but Gaara’s sand reeks of blood. She figures that at some point, she and her friends separated enough that they spread the jutsu thin enough for her to escape and luckily she ran into Gaara as she fled.

His sand plucks the Grass ninja from the treetops, enveloping him completely. With a squeeze of Gaara’s fist, the sand constricts.

Sakura recoils in surprise, panic rising up in her chest, when with a poof—She breathes a sigh of relief. A substitution jutsu. She looks over at Gaara, wondering his intent. Was he going to crush that man? Could he have known he’d escape?

He’s still for a few minutes, but when Gaara no longer senses an enemy presence, he turns to her and holds out trembling arms. The pained grimace on his face tells her all she needs to know about his intentions, that he was terrified for her. 

Sakura accepts the invitation, rushing into his embrace. She buries her head into his shoulder, shaking as his arms envelop her. “You found me,” she says, grip tight on his shirt, and she says again, “you found me.”

His eyes are still scanning their surroundings, his sand floating around them protectively, but he holds her fiercely to him and says, “You’re the one who found me.” One of his hands moves up, his fingers brushing against the wispy ends of her short hair in an unspoken question. 

She moves back, not enough to pull out of his arms but enough for him to get a good look at her, “Oh, um, I got into a bit of a fight. Sasuke and Naruto were unconscious from an ambush right at the beginning of the exam, and one of the Sound shinobi had a really good grip on my hair, so I cut it off. Luckily, some Leaf nin found me—I was in a pretty tight spot.”

One hand firmly holds her waist and the other, the one that had been touching her hair, trails to her face. His fingers ghost over her jaw, and with every new bruise or scratch he sees, Sakura can see the discord build in him like a winding coil. 

“The Sound shinobi did this?” He says, voice sharp. 

“I’m okay,” she says softly, leaning in to nudge his nose with hers. She isn’t sure that she likes the look in his eyes. “Others had it worse off than me. Rock Lee was knocked out. Sasuke almost broke the Sound ninja’s arms off.”

Gaara grumbles, distracted by her proximity, “I didn’t find you quickly enough.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Sakura pecks his lips for emphasis. “If it wasn’t for your training, I definitely wouldn’t have used the jutsu correctly, and I would’ve been toast before anyone got there to help.”

“I was supposed to protect you. The Leaf shinobi came together to protect you, even though you are on competing teams?”

“You were going to help me,” Sakura points out, “and you aren’t even from my village.”

“Well, yes, but that’s because…” Gaara trails off, the dangerous look in his eyes ebbing as his face flushes.

“Because?” Sakura grins cheekily. There’s her Gaara.

He grunts softly at her, clearly too embarrassed to say any more on the subject, “In any case, we need to find your teammates.” He releases her, looking sheepish.

“Where are Temari and Kankurō?” Sakura glances around. She sidles up next to Gaara as they start to walk back, feeling safe for the first time since the start of the exam. He’s not pushing her away or anything, she muses, but she thinks he looks awful grumpy. Is he still on high alert? 

“They’re waiting near the finish line. I wouldn’t complete the exam until I found you.” 

“When did you get both scrolls?” Sakura links her hand with his. He doesn’t resist, but it’s not his usual eagerness for her touch. 

“About thirty minutes in. We reached the end before the hour was up, and I dropped them off and circled back. I was in a hurry to look for you.” He pauses, like there’s something else he wants to say, but he doesn’t go on.

“Well, you found me!” Sakura says cheerfully. When he says nothing back, she squeezes his hand gently, “Are you alright, Gaara?”

“The men who saved you,” Gaara starts, focusing sternly on the path ahead, where Sakura had come from, “protected you, as I would have. Do they feel the same way about you as I do?”

She’s about to ask exactly how he feels about her, but his expression gives her pause. He looks… miserable. “Gaara,” she says gently, “it isn’t about that. My teammates were already unconscious for most of the battle. The people who saved me are a guy I rejected romantically, a girl who hates me, and her teammates that I barely know. The shinobi here… Our village is a bond. They saved me just because I’m a comrade, and because it was the right thing to do. What good is passing the exam if our fellow ninja, the ones who have to have our backs and fight at our side in the future, are injured or even killed? And besides all that, even if that was the case, aren’t my feelings the ones that matter here?”

He takes a moment to think about it, but his thumb starts to graze over hers, so she knows he feels better even before Naruto bursts through the bushes. 

“Sakura!” he shouts, darting up to her, “Thank goodness you’re alright!” 

Gaara’s sand flickers upwards, quickly dissipating as he recognizes her loud teammate.

Naruto skids to a stop, his eyes wandering from Sakura to Gaara, to their hands firmly intertwined. The question in his eyes is obvious. 

“Naruto,” Sakura smiles fondly and motions to Gaara, “you remember Gaara.” She feels bashful saying it, then stupid for being embarrassed about dating in a dating game. “He’s my boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend?!” Naruto yelps incredulously.

“Don’t be so loud,” Sasuke emerges from the treeline, eyes narrow in annoyance. “Idiot.”

“Where’s Kabuto?” Sakura glances around, not seeing the blue haired man. 

“He got away, but we ended up separating,” Sasuke shakes his head. “And the enemy didn’t even have a scroll.” 

“Ah,” Gaara pipes up quietly, “I have spare scrolls.” 

The team stares at him.

“Scrolls,” Sakura blanches, “as in plural?”

“I didn’t know which you had,” Gaara explains, reaching into his pocket to pull out a handful of small scrolls, “so I collected several, just in case.”

Naruto groans in exasperation, “We could barely get one!” 

Sakura stifles a laugh. Clearly, Gaara is the hunter Kabuto was so terrified of running into. 

Gaara narrows his eyes in confusion, “So, you do have two scrolls?”

“No,” Sakura explains, “in the ambush I told you about—This is going to sound insane, but one of them literally ate our original scroll. Swallowed it whole. It wasn’t even the weirdest thing he did.” She gestures to Sasuke’s bandaged neck. 

Naruto nods in agreement, “Lucky for us, the Sound ninja that attacked later still had their scroll.”

Sasuke glares at Gaara, grumbling, “We could still get another by the end of the exam.” 

“I’m pretty sure Gaara has the market on remaining scrolls,” Naruto groans. “Besides, how many do you think are really left out there?”

“We can’t accept charity from an enemy—” Sasuke starts, and Sakura cuts him off.

“Gaara is an ally, and if you would’ve accepted a scroll Kabuto helped us get, then you should accept one from Gaara.” She gestures her free hand in his direction. “I don’t know how you can stand there and be stubborn about it, with your fucking magic hickey. We need to get out of this forest.”

Sheepishly, Naruto agrees, rubbing the back of his head, “I mean… we were fine with cheating this morning, you know? Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Sasuke opens his mouth to argue, and closes it again. He crosses his arms before begrudgingly agreeing, “Fine. But we could’ve done it on our own.”

Sakura rolls her eyes at him. They already didn’t do it on their own. They’ve had help every step of the way. Uchihas, the whole damn lot of them, are insufferably stubborn.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route One: Gaara of the Desert - Orange Heart

Sakura thought things would be easier at the finish line. Kankurō and Temari wave politely at them when they arrive. Lee looks outright thrilled. Even Ino beams at her. She’d like to pretend she has the decency to feel like a sham, but frankly, she’s sick of getting beat up in the forest. 

Her laziness is punished, Sakura decides, when everyone who passed the test is gathered in a training room and told that too many people passed the exam—They need to duke it out in order to eliminate more contestants. As shocked murmurs fill the room, Sakura is further surprised when Kabuto forfeits and eliminates himself. His teammates are allowed to stay; from this point on, it’s an individual exam. 

She dreads the idea of fighting most of the people here. She knows her skills aren’t exactly up to par. To her dismay, the Sound shinobi that almost bested her in the forest are among the remaining combatants, even if the one with the sound cannons has his arms inside a dual sling. There are twenty people left, to be paired off in a fight until someone gave up, won, or their newest examiner feels the need to interfere.

Sakura watches the matches with keen interest, trying to be observant and study their techniques. First up is Sasuke, who uses Rock Lee’s lotus technique to defeat his opponent. 

Shino Aburame—This is her first time noticing Shino here, and Sakura wonders if she should tell the real one about it—uses chakra-sucking bugs to defeat Zaku, the Sound ninja who attacked her and is trying to fight with one functional arm. When the pressure builds, effectively exploding the joint in his elbow, Sakura flinches and shields her face. Sure, he attacked her, but she isn’t necessarily ready to watch him suffer. As she looks up to watch the medics cart him off the arena, she notices Gaara next to her, and is taken aback by how pleased he looks. 

It’s soon Kankurō’s turn. He tricks a genjutsu wielder with the revelation that he is in fact his own puppet disguised with a jutsu. Sakura marvels in surprise, which quickly changes to horror as Kankurō traps his opponent inside the puppet and crushes him. “Jesus,” Sakura whispers to Naruto, who doesn’t seem half as bothered as she is, “what the fuck?”

Sakura’s eyes widen to see her own name on the board next, against none other than Ino Yamanaka. She thought this must be some kind of joke from the universe. Surely, she couldn’t be expected to fight someone she’s known forever? She begins to worry, focusing on what information the game has on Ino, mainly making sure the text boxes don’t say she has any secret abilities that are going to crush her bones or blow off her arms. Sakura saw Ino’s mind transfer jutsu in action in the forest, and it isn’t something she wants to risk exposing herself to, but at least it’s not particularly violent—because any damage done to Sakura, while Ino’s in her body, would be inflicted on Ino’s body as well.

Gaara pats her head, breaking her free from her thoughts. “Hey,” he says, smoothing her hair, “You’re ready.”

As the match begins, Sakura does her best—Gaara and her teammates are watching, after all—and even though she feels guilty for every hit she lands on Ino, she knows that this Ino is her rival. And honestly, both Inos would hate it if they knew Sakura went easy on them, given the opportunity to go full force. This Ino isn’t a powerhouse, but Sakura knows that she has a special technique up her sleeve. At one point, Ino cuts her own ponytail, and Sakura’s eyes go wide with shock. She could never imagine Ino chopping off the beautiful, pale blonde locks she so deeply takes pride in. It’s too late for her to realize that it’s a trap until the mind transfer jutsu has already taken hold. She thinks the match is over, until a booming voice announces: “MINI GAME.”

Sakura is thrust into utter darkness. A screen flashes white before her, and she can see the arena from the perspective of the audience, her body staring absently as Ino takes control. Flashing lights blink from the floor as a game station rises up between her and the screen, with nine small circular holes and a plush mallet sitting on top.

She approaches it, slowly picking up the toy mallet, “Is this… Whack-a-mole?”

“Whack-an-Ino, to be precise,” Sai chuckles as he appears next to her, causing Sakura to jump in surprise and whack his arm with the plush toy for startling her. He ignores her, patting the machine, “The rules are standard. The more Ino plushies you hit, the higher your score and the better the result. Say ‘Cha!’ to begin.” 

Sakura hovers the toy mallet over the game. Alright, she supposes, this is pretty harmless. Easier than a fistfight, right? She can do this. Confidently, she cheers, “Cha!” 

The tiny plush Inos pop out of the holes, and Sakura swats at them with the toy mallet. For each hit, she racks up ten points—she wasn’t given an indication of how many points she needs to win, but she thinks she’s doing well. A buzzer sounds from the game and Sakura looks up to the screen to see, to her shock, her own arm raised up as she prepares to surrender. The points from the machine ding as they’re tallied, the screen flashing and the machine proclaiming in a robotic voice, “Winner! You have escaped the mind transfer jutsu!” 

“Hell yeah!” Sakura shouts, and in a flash of light, she’s back in her body and glaring determinedly at her rival.

Ino looks incredulous and woozy, her knees wobbling from the shock of being displaced back into her own body so suddenly. Still, she squares up, ready to see this fight through to the end.

The girls launch themselves at one another. They’re equally matched in every way, save Ino’s specialty jutsu, and Sakura is determined not to lose. In the fray, Sakura’s fist connects with Ino’s jaw at the same moment Ino’s punch connects with her face.

They both go out like a light.

♡ ♥ ♡

Sakura avoids Ino the next day—not mad at her, per se, but the last thing she remembers is everything going black. And if Ino knocked her out, that means she won, and Sakura lost. It’s a little embarrassing, especially after all the work she put in to train.

Sakura avoids Ino the next day—not mad at her, per se, but the last thing she remembers is everything going black. And if Ino knocked her out, that means she won, and Sakura lost. It’s a little embarrassing, especially after all the work she put into training.

She’d wormed her way over to Shino’s dorm after class, complaining to him as his roommate Kiba went to go shower.

“I’m sure it’s frustrating to lose, but it sounds like you did your best given the circumstances. It’s not like you have these special jutsu,” Shino says, rewriting his class notes as she lounges on his floor.

“Yeah, and I only broke out of that because of the mini game,” Sakura sighs, staring up at his ceiling. “But I got a good look at your character there for the first time. Kiba and Hinata too, sort of, you’re on a team. But I saw you fight.”

He chuckles at that, “Was I any good?”

“I’d say so,” she rolls her head to the side to shoot him a lazy grin, “you could control these, like, swarms of bugs. Well anyway, remember the guy that was beating me up in the second exam, the one in my Monday class? You were fighting him and you launched your little chakra bugs into his air cannons, and the pressure made them pop.”

“I mean, if he’s the guy that hurt you, then good.” Shino shrugs, “Pop that guy like a balloon.”

“Shino,” Sakura chastises him, but she’s laughing despite herself. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s not like I’m the one who did it,” he protests.

The door opens, Kiba reentering, dressed in sweatpants and shirtless. “Sorry to interrupt,” he shoots Shino a grin, tossing his wad of dirty clothes into his hamper. “Forgot to grab a shirt and thought Sakura might want to see what a real man looks like.”

Shino twitches in his seat, “What is wrong with you?”

Sakura snorts, “Yeah, Kiba, way to be weird.”

“Kidding, I was kidding,” Kiba groans, grabbing a shirt from his closet and throwing it on. “I just forgot my shirt. I’m gonna head out though, see you guys around.” He slips his shoes on and nudges Shino in the shoulder as he leaves. “All yours, buddy!”

Once the door closes, Shino awkwardly fiddles with his pencil, “Sorry about him.”

“Oh, you don’t have to apologize. It’s tough out there with an extrovert roommate,” Sakura thinks of her own resident loudmouth. 

“He means well,” Shino says vaguely, glancing at the door and then back at her. “Say, ah, Sakura…”

“Oh, am I imposing?” Sakura sits up, absentmindedly fixing her messy bun. “Just say the word, I’ll head out. I’m just being oversensitive about the whole Ino thing.”

“No, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave,” he sets his pencil down, adjusting his sunglasses—the mystery, by the way, was settled in that he’s sensitive to most light. “This is nice, it’s nice having you over. And you’re not being oversensitive about it, you’re stuck in a complicated position.”

“Thanks, Shino,” Sakura beams. “You’re pretty easy to talk to, you know? What homework are you working on anyway?”

“Just transcribing my Early Childhood Ed. notes.”

Sakura needs to register that for a moment. “You’re gonna be a teacher? Early Ed, so little kids?”

“Yeah,” he says sheepishly, diverting the subject. “But I’m about done, if you want to do something besides lay on the floor. We could get food, or order something. Watch a movie, maybe?”

“Yeah!” Sakura cheers, “I’ll buy!”

So they settle on his bed, cross-legged and shoulder to shoulder, and Shino shoves down the warmth bubbling in his chest as she browses her phone, chattering about where they should order from. He knows that she has too much going on right now, he’s the only one who knows exactly how much, and she could use a friend. So, okay, he can do that. He adjusts the strings of his hoodie, glancing at her phone as they decide what they want to eat.

Sakura wanders to her dorm after a long day out, pleased as punch. 

Ino sees her when she comes in, tucked at her desk and reading a book for English 101. “Hey, smiley,” Ino teases, “where’ve you been?”

“Shino’s,” Sakura flops onto her bed, not bothering to change out of her sweats and hoodie. “God, he talked me into burrito bowls, and I’m so stuffed I could die.”

Ino sends her a knowing smile, setting her book down, “Right, so you guys just hung out all day?”

Sakura chuckles, “Aren’t you supposed to be reading, Miss Nosy?”

“Darcy can wait. The tea, mademoiselle.” 

“There’s no tea,” Sakura groans, rubbing her stomach for emphasis. “We were just hanging out, we ordered some food. He’s not into me like that, and if he was, didn’t he have all day to make a move? And,” Sakura gestures to her messy hair and her casual clothes, “come on. Do I look like I thought that barging over uninvited was a date?”

“If you say so,” Ino settles back into her book. “Just saying, especially if you just came over, he hung out with you like all day.”

“I usually hang out with you all day,” Sakura snuggles into her pillow, stretching and making herself comfortable, as she gets ready to accept her defeat against the other Ino. “And I don’t see you bugging me to make out, huh?”

Ino rolls her eyes, flipping to the next page of her book, “Are you even ready to date someone?”

But Sakura is already gone, her arms wrapped around her pillow.

♡ ♥ ♡

Sakura wakes, propped against a wall, with her head resting on Gaara’s shoulder. She blinks groggily, her head throbbing, and she sits up straight. 

“Easy,” Gaara moves, hands reaching to steady her shoulders. “Don’t move too fast.” 

Sakura is relieved to see his face and she groans, prodding the surely developing bruise on her jaw. “Man, I lost.”

“You tied,” Gaara pushes away her prodding fingers, his eyes silently chastising her for messing with the sore spot. “So you don’t get to advance, but you didn’t lose either. And I don’t know that many shinobi could have broken free from that jutsu. You should be proud.”

“I suppose,” Sakura sighs softly. “I wish I had won.”

Gaara pats her on the head, “I’ll be proud for you, then.”

“Wow,” Sakura grins, ignoring the throbbing in her jaw, “thanks dad.” Secretly, she’s pleased with the compliment. To alleviate his grumpy look, she goes on, “Tell me what I missed.”

“Your teacher took the Uchiha boy elsewhere,” Gaara notes, “and Naruto is currently fighting Kiba Inuzuka and his dog.”

Sakura creases her brow. His dog’s allowed to fight too?

“After your match, Temari faced a Leaf kunoichi and won. Her weapons could not gain traction against Temari’s wind jutsu. A Leaf shinobi faced one from the Sound and rendered her unconscious.”

“Can you help me up?” Sakura starts to push at the ground, willing her stiff body to stand. “I want to see Naruto’s match.”

Gaara huffs like he wants to protest, but he helps her up anyway, propping her on the rail so she can watch her teammate in action.

It’s a tough match. Sakura hadn’t thought Naruto would pull through, and when he won in the most ridiculous manner she could imagine—He accidentally farted in his opponent’s face, and Kiba’s heightened sense of smell made that a devastating blow—she found it very difficult to congratulate him on his triumphant return without laughing. Shino would get a kick out of this story.

Gaara, to his credit, looks serious, but Sakura can tell by the rigidity of his shoulders that this win was by far the strangest thing he’d seen today—maybe ever.

Naruto is embarrassed that Sakura was awake to see it, and they quickly begin talking about the upcoming match between the Hyūga cousins in an effort to diffuse the comedic awkwardness of this last battle.

The Hyūga battle royale is a brutal one. Hinata Hyūga, clearly outclassed against her more experienced cousin, is getting her ass handed to her. As all of her shots are blocked, and more hits are landed on her, Sakura is awed and horrified by the resentment manifested in Neji’s heart to attack her so ruthlessly. Yeesh. Maybe she should avoid that route, even if he looks good. She focuses on the game, a text box of a brief history of the Hyūga clan popping up for her to read. The text defines Hinata’s role as the heiress to the main house as the oldest daughter, and the technique being used has the capability to shut down the opponent’s chakra network as well as their internal organs. Hinata is, quite urgently, dying right before their eyes.

“Someone has to do something,” Sakura murmurs, and sure enough, the teachers finally intervene at the command of the proctor. Hinata collapses and is carried off to the medics. Naruto is swearing to avenge her and beat the smug expression off Neji’s face. It all ends too quickly and soon, it’s Gaara’s name projected onto the board, versus Rock Lee.

Sakura is worried—Lee is quick. She’d seen him in battle. “Good luck,” she starts to offer, and is cut off with a quick, stolen kiss.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling back, his eyes confident. He directs a quick glance at Naruto, “Please watch out for her.”

“Obviously!” Naruto scoffs, before beaming brightly, “Have a good match.”

Gaara nods at him, before disappearing and reappearing in the middle of the stadium in a swirl of sand. 

Sakura watches with anticipation. She is rooting for Gaara—of course—but Lee also helped save their asses in the Forest of Death. She’s seen Lee fight full force, and while she has seen a good bit of Gaara using his sand, she doesn’t believe she has seen him fight against anyone that stood a serious chance.

Lee’s speed is more than Sakura could have believed physically possible. He moves so quickly that she often can’t even see him. At one point, he drops leg weights so heavy they create craters in the gymnasium arena’s floor.

Gaara’s sand is hard pressed to keep up, barely blocking shots to the point where Lee has him worked in a circle with no hope of blocking the punches anymore. After the first hit, Gaara looks, to be frank, like his world’s been rocked. 

Sakura gasps, remembering what he’d said: no opponent has struck him in battle. She cheers him on, but she can hardly hear herself call out his name over the tangible buzz of the panic rising within her.

Lee throws shot after shot. It’s abundantly clear that Gaara isn’t evasive enough for a close range fight with him. His defenses are too slow. She can see the panic overtake him, the surprise, the disbelief at being matched. 

At one point, there is a lull. Gaara stands there, panting, chips of his skin falling off to reveal that it was really a top layer of sand protecting his body from the punches. Sakura is surprised—Was that there the whole time, and she couldn’t tell? Was that there when he kissed her? 

Something is said. Sakura can’t hear what Lee said to Gaara, but she can see the shift in him, the malice in his eyes where panic had been just moments before. The sand becomes more aggressive, snatching, clawing at Lee as he tries to dodge. There’s nowhere to escape. Sand grips Lee’s arm and leg and in a haste to defeat him, Gaara clenches his fist.

Sakura recognizes the technique from the forest and is powerless, her hands flying to her mouth as she lets out a startled scream, to stop what’s happening. 

Lee lets out a blood curdling scream as his bones are crushed. The sand begins to seep away from his limp body. 

Sakura can’t believe it. “Lee!” she cries out his name. What Gaara did in the forest comes rushing back to her. She assumed his experience told him that was a clone he crushed, or that the opponent would use a substitution and escape after realizing they were outmatched, but was that true? Was he trying to kill that person? Was he really trying to kill Lee?

His eyes meet hers and his victorious, wicked grin dies on his lips when he sees her expression. She doesn’t know what to think when she notices his heart meter, now glowing orange. Dread fills her heart as Rock Lee rises, wobbling, taking a fighting stance on his trembling, broken leg.

The match is stopped. Sakura wants to jump down there, to surround and protect the man who put his life at risk to help her in the Forest of Death. Naruto leaps forward, and she follows suit. Neji—Tenten is already in the infirmary—stands nearby, hovering behind a sensei who looks remarkably like Lee and sobs over the tragedy that’s befallen his student.

Gaara stands near the fringe, waiting for Sakura to turn toward him, but she’s focused on unconscious Lee. As the medics take Lee away, he approaches her slowly. “Sakura,” he calls out softly, and the eyes of the other teachers are burning into him as he walks closer. “Sakura,” he tries again, a little louder. He waits for the moment, the look he knows is coming—disgust, fear, hate.

But when she turns to him, there is only worry and tears in her eyes, and what he thought would be awful is infinitely worse. “Gaara,” she isn’t sure what to say, “he’s hurt really badly.” That expression on his face in the arena, that’s the same gentle Gaara she knows?

His mouth parts slightly, and closes again. He swallows, before reaching out like he wants to draw her into his arms, “I—”

“Get back!” Naruto pulls Sakura roughly behind him, and the proctor soon slips between as well.

“Naruto,” Sakura starts, pressing a hand to his shoulder.

“No, Sakura,” Naruto says adamantly. “Did you not just see what happened here? I’m going to take you home.”

She sees Gaara’s crestfallen expression, the panic in his eyes, and so when Naruto grips her wrist to lead her away, she can’t help but mouth ‘home’ to him. She suspects he would have come anyway, but the invitation lessens the pain on his face. Naruto didn’t know that Gaara had already been to—stayed at, actually—her house. They would talk there. Everything is going to be fine. Lee is going to be okay. He has to be. Right?

Reminding herself that Lee is not a real person doesn’t lessen the lead feeling in her chest as Naruto walks her home. He’s an ally, perhaps even a friend, and he put himself in harm’s way for her. How could Gaara do that? An injury like that—What if he isn’t okay? What if his leg never recovers? 

Then again, she muses, it’s not as though Kankurō or—at least from how the match was described to her—Temari had pulled any punches. Kankurō’s opponent died. That matters less because Sakura is dating Gaara, or because she knows Rock Lee? This isn’t her world, this is the shinobi world.

She thanks Naruto on autopilot. He says something about whether or not he should stay, but Sakura shakes her head, “No, no, go back and catch the last match. I’ll expect a full report later. I’m still sore anyway, I need to get some rest.” 

He agrees. Sakura assumes the medics checked her out once she was unconscious, and determined she was fine enough to just prop against a wall, but she can’t help but think Naruto is a little naive for agreeing. 

As soon as the door closes behind her, Sakura can feel Gaara’s gentle pulse of chakra from across the dark living room. Of course he beat her here. Sakura doesn’t know whether sensing him means she is getting better at this whole ninja bit, or with Naruto gone, he didn’t want to surprise her and made a point of making sure she knew he was hiding in here. She assumes the latter. When she flicks the light on, she sees him at the edge of her living room, looking miserable. Sakura, a little red around the eyes herself, sighs weakly. Damn this man and her fragile, tug-able heartstrings. She strides across the room, opening her arms for him, “Come here.”

He doesn’t hesitate, practically falling into her to wrap his arms snugly around her. “I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face into her collarbone. “I’m sorry for hurting your friend. Please forgive me.”

“Why did you go for that final blow?” Sakura asks, her fingers absentmindedly rubbing his back. 

“That’s how… In the Sand village, one is meant to fight an opponent to the death. Anything less than your best effort to that end is dishonorable, as a shinobi. That’s how I was raised to fight,” Gaara mumbles, focusing on her touch.

That would explain his siblings’ battles. Sakura leans her cheek to rest on his head. Besides, Shino blew the Sound ninja’s arms off. Did the fact that Sakura saw him as an enemy, and Lee as an ally, make one okay for the exam and the other not? Shinobi are meant to be killers.

“But regardless, I intended to take it easy on him, as a reward for helping you,” Gaara admits. “I didn’t intend to use my full strength. He surprised me with his speed, and I was struggling to keep up. And then…”

“And then?”

“He said that he’d seen us together, but was nonetheless determined to win your heart, in part by defeating me in combat.” He sighs exasperatedly, “I knew he was there for you in the second exam when I wasn’t, and that after the exams are over…”

Ah, Sakura muses, so that was the sketchy noise in the woods when they’d first kissed. “Well,” Sakura’s hand slips up to run through his hair, “you can take all of our time together as some winding road that says I really want to be with Rock Lee, or you can listen to me when I say that I’m a grown woman who makes my own choices, and I want to be with you. Even if you lose a fight. Even if you’re in Suna for a bit without me.”

Gaara peeks up at her.

Sakura doesn’t want to ask, but the thought is there, nudging at the back of her mind, “Gaara, what’s ‘the mission?’ I overheard Temari, when we all met. Thought it would’ve come up by now, but it didn’t, and… I can’t help but think it’s related to your insecurities, you know what I mean?”

His expression is tense.

Sakura’s heart sinks, because though she’s pushed worrying about it all this time, she can sense she’s not going to like the answer. 

“I never would have let anything happen to you, no matter what the fallout was,” he pulls away, face reserved.

“The fallout from what, Gaara?” 

He’s quiet, thinking on it, perhaps deciding the best way to tell her. But patience is not Sakura’s virtue.

“So, clearly not something favorable. Clearly something I’d dislike enough that you think I wouldn’t come with you, so you’ve neglected to mention it,” Sakura says, angry with herself for brushing it to the side and assuming it was harmless, for assuming it didn’t have anything to do with the romance because this is a dating game, when the game has done nothing but fuck with her mind and her emotions this whole time. “So, tell me what it is then. Was I supposed to be some kind of informant? Guess I made it pretty easy to be used this whole time then, huh?” Whoops, she seethes at herself, there’s that real world frustration projecting itself. She pries his arms from around her waist, surprising them both with the strength of her grip.

“Sakura,” Gaara says sharply, “that’s not—”

“Then tell me what it is,” Sakura snaps. “What’ve I stupidly fallen for now? What are we talking about here? Espionage? And what, I’ve figured it out, so are you going to hurt me now? Kill me?”

“No,” Gaara shifts forward to stop her from pulling away, “Sakura, no. Please listen to me.” He reaches for her face, to cup her cheeks in his hands as he had so dearly before.

“Don’t touch me,” her hands divert his. “You do not fucking touch me. What’s the mission? I’ll listen to that. If you’re going to use me then I should get to know what for.”

His hands shrink back, eyes glassy, face panicked. Sai had told her that consent carries weight here. Sakura wonders how much. Gaara starts to speak, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Yes, you did,” Sakura corrects him, “and that’s not what I asked you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, hands still held slightly aloft, like he wants nothing more than to reach out for her. But it’s a moment too long. 

“Just leave.”

“Wait, I—”

“Get out of my house,” Sakura practically launches herself across the room, latching herself onto the doorknob and yanking the door open. “Leave me alone, you—you,” the sentence tastes like bile in her throat, and even knowing he’s probably been playing her, even knowing his whole backstory was some fake bullshit to garner sympathy from a dumb target that let him waltz right into her house, she can’t think of a word to dull the venom in her chest and the insult turns to a choked sob in her mouth. “Just, please, leave me alone.” 

And he does. His fingers twitch like he wants to wipe her tears, but he does as she tells him to, picking up his gourd and walking out her front door. He does her the courtesy of letting her close the door behind him before disappearing in a swirl of sand, his ears burning red, wiping his eyes, furious with himself.

Her strength leaves her when he’s gone, and she collapses on her couch.

“So,” a voice pipes up from the shadows as Sai steps into view, kneeling before her to wipe her face with his sleeve, “you want to talk about all that?”

Sakura sternly swats his hand away and accuses, “You knew he was using me. Like I seriously don’t have enough trust issues from the real world.”

“I wouldn’t say he was using you,” Sai quips, nudging her over to make room for himself on the couch. 

“Then what would you call it?”

“The core programming of his route is the mission,” Sai shrugs. “Gaara met you after he came here, so after the mission started, right? And if he was using you to get information, well, let’s be honest. What deep village secrets do you really know?”

Sakura pauses at that. Nothing, really. It was evident from the start that she isn’t even a skilled ninja. “Okay, but dating me while lying is still wrong,” Sakura grumbles, but even she can tell that her sweltering anger is dissipating. 

“Of course it is,” Sai muses. “And the route could have gone a lot of different ways, but can you really blame him for chasing after affection he never sees in his home village? Or for thinking everything would be ruined if you found out he came to your village with ill intent?”

“So it was ill intent,” she quips harshly, but she withers under Sai’s even stare. “I guess not. I just—I was having a really good day in the real world, and I hate being lied to.”

“Hmm,” Sai quirks his lips in a tiny smirk, “you know, not that I’m showing you the way or anything, but if I had any information saying that there was potential espionage going on in the Chūnin Exams… I would probably take it to the Hokage. He might have something to say about it.” He leans in, tapping his forehead to hers, “Was my subtle hint clear enough for you?”

Sakura leans away, snorting sharply, “Okay, back off, weirdo!” She rubs her wrists against her eyes, holding in a harsh laugh. “I got it.” 

Sai hums pleasantly at that, leaning back. 

Sakura smiles, her eyes a little watery, her smile a little forced, “Thanks, Sai.”

“But don’t tell anyone I helped you out,” he stands up, shooting her his own forced smile in return, “I have a reputation to protect.” 

Sakura rolls her eyes at him as he heads up her stairs and disappears, thinking this is a dumb joke—It’s not like there’s anyone to tell. 

The Hokage is a surprisingly easy man to see. She barely has to explain to his secretary that she has urgent information for him before she’s ushered up and into his office. She knows a little about him from reading the information provided about him through the app, but seeing him up close in person—closer than when she briefly saw him during the exam—she thinks he looks like a pretty average grandpa. 

“Hello, sir, uhm, Lord Hokage,” Sakura fumbles, eyeing his giant stack of paperwork. Is she bothering him? Get to the point, Sakura.

“So,” Hiruzen Sarutobi, third Hokage of the Hidden Leaf, leans forward in his chair and smiles at her conspiratorially, “the Sand brat finally worked up the nerve to tell you, then?” 

Sakura blanks at that. “E-Eh?!”

Hiruzen is taken aback at her surprise, “Unless… that’s not why you’re here…?”

“Wh—It is, but not because Gaara outright told me. I figured out he was up to something,” Sakura flushes, confused. “Worked up the nerve to tell me what?”

Hiruzen hesitates, thumbing through some leaflets on his desk, “Well, Sakura, I don’t believe you should be hearing this from me. Shortly after the first exam, a certain son of the Kazekage requested an audience with me, and in no uncertain terms, laid bare a plot by his village to attack Konohagakure with the aid of another village.”

Sakura stares at him, “So… Gaara told you about all of that?”

“Oh, that’s not all,” the Hokage shifts back in his seat. “He’s already tried to convince the Kazekage that an alliance with the Sound would bring only war and death, but the Kazekage would hear none of it, and his siblings as well as most of the council have taken Gaara’s side in the matter—not that the siblings hold much political sway. Not yet.”

“...And what does all that mean?”

“It means, dear girl, that by the end of this, we’ll have two countries at peace and a new, doe eyed Kazekage who will readily agree to a mutually beneficial treaty. If we play our cards right, of course.” Hiruzen chuckles in his chair, pulling a pipe and a small bag of tobacco out from his desk drawer, “And all this, because he fell for a certain pink haired little kunoichi. Really makes you think, doesn’t it? Of course, we have some other pertinent intelligence on the matter, but that should be everything to keep you in the know.” He begins to pack his pipe. 

Sakura stands still, uncertain what to do with all this information. 

Hiruzen’s eyes flicker upwards, “Now, if you don’t mind, I have some meetings to attend to shortly, and I imagine there’s a very upset young man out there worrying about you.”

“Right,” Sakura bows her head, flushed and confused, “thank you for your time, Lord Hokage!” As she leaves, she hears the flicker of a match lighting his tobacco, and she shivers. He may seem like a nice old grandpa, but those were some cold politics.

Sakura, unsure what to do with herself, wanders back home. Is she supposed to go find Gaara? Where would he even be? She thought, maybe, perhaps foolishly, that he would be near her home. Or even, as time ticks by and afternoon turns to night, that he would just come back. After all, she has no idea where his team has been living during their stay. But there’s no sign of him, his belongings strewn throughout her house untouched—She thought once she was gone, he’d have to come back for them, but he hadn’t. Quietly, she calls out, “Gaara?” When no one answers, “Sai?”

“At your service,” he quips, leaning over her kitchen counter.

“Can you… Can you tell me where Gaara is?” 

“Ready to apologize already, are you?” Sai chuckles, pushing himself off the counter. He snatches an apple, rubbing it on the fabric of his shirt before taking a bite. 

Sakura ignores the question, face pulling into a frustrated pout, “You can eat food?”

He chews his bite, looking at her, unimpressed, “You know, you really gotta do something about that pride of yours.” 

Sakura quirks a brow at that, “Excuse me?”

“Temper too.” He takes another bite. With his mouth full, he adds, “And I wouldn’t say you’re a slob, but I wouldn’t call you put together either—”

Sakura grabs a pillow off the couch, roughly tossing it at him from across the room. “Can you tell me where Gaara is or not?!”

Sai ducks under the counter, blocked by the kitchen island, the pillow landing in the sink behind him. “Sheesh, there’s that temper.”

“Sai!”

“Alright,” he puts his hands up and into view, “I surrender!” When nothing happens, he pokes his head up as well, “I can tell you, but you shouldn’t go. He’s in a dark place right now, Sakura.”

Sakura feels guilty—If Gaara truly had no one, and Sakura was his one person… If the roles were reversed, she probably would’ve been hesitant to admit she came here with ill intent too. He lied, but he tried to make it right, didn’t he? And after petitioning his father failed, he took matters to the Hokage himself. “I don’t care,” she says, fists clenched. “I have to go see him.”

Gaara had taught her to climb a tree, and thankfully houses are roughly the same principle. It’s the roofs that are the tricky part, with slanting, old shingles. So when she’s close enough to climb up a house and approach him where he can see her, she wobbles precariously, climbing the rooftops to reach the steeple of the church where Sai told her that Gaara would be. The full moon and the street lamps offered enough light, and sure enough, there’s a form sitting at the top of the steeple. 

It’s Gaara, Sakura realizes, but barely. Half of him is disfigured, sand morphed into a hulking mass, the shape of something straight out of a horror movie. In the light of the moon, he turns to her, a silhouette dripping blood from his claw. He’s doused in it, the blood covering him and spattered across the rooftop in front of her. What happened here?

Sakura squints, trying to make out his features. Timidly, she takes a step forward. 

His sand rushes her, slamming into her and sending her clattering across the rooftop. Her elbow catches in the shingles, cracking sharply, and she cries out from the pain. 

The sand hesitates, stilling to a slow stop, and in the light she can make out golden eyes—not Gaara. She rises shakily to her feet, nearly slipping in a puddle of blood, her arm clutched protectively to her chest. She sucks in a breath—Everything hurts, she assumes her arm and a few ribs are broken. “Gaara…?” She whimpers, taking a step back, ready to flee as fast as her legs can carry her.

“Sakura?” The creature starts to morph, retreating into his human form, and the glint of gold is gone from his face. It’s just the silhouette of a man, rushing down the side of the steeple as fast as he can. He comes to a stop nearby, arms braced out, unsure what to do. “I—” He moves forward, a pained grimace on his face, bloody fingertips brushing the sides of her cheek as he hesitates to touch her, “What have I done?”

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route One: Gaara of the Desert - Red Heart

Sakura can see that Gaara is panicking, hands trembling as he jerks away from touching her, his eyes frenzied. “Sakura,” he murmurs, taking a step back. “Go—I’m dangerous.”

“Gaara,” Sakura whispers his name, her heart lodged in her throat. She cradles her injured arm, but she sees the look on his face, and takes a stubborn step forward. He needs her right now. “It’s okay, I’m going to be alright.”

“No,” his hand rushes to his temple, his eyes shut, “stay away! I’ll hurt you, I’ll—I’m a monster.” 

Her heart breaks for him. This isn’t real, she tells herself, trembling as she reaches out for him with her good arm. She’s not in any real danger, this isn’t real pain. He doesn’t know that, and he needs her. “That’s not true,” she says, trying to sound brave, but her voice cracks. “You’re not, Gaara. You’re not a monster. You’re a person. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please, come here.”

He hesitates, hand holding his temple, teeth grit as he chokes out a sob. “Don’t leave me alone.” He lets her wrap an arm around him without moving, her injured arm held to her side, and once she touches him, his arms dart out to pull her in.

She holds in a wheeze, her ribs on fire from the contact, and she nestles herself into his chest. Sure enough, there is the reassuring thump of his heartbeat. “I’m not leaving, Gaara. I hear it,” she told him. “Your heart. See, I told you. You’re not a monster, you’re human, just like me.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath, his shoulders slowly relaxing. Gaara nestles his cheek in her hair, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she says. “You’re okay, I’m here now.” She can feel the blood in her hair, and on her waist where his hands rest. “Gaara, what happened to you? Are you bleeding? You look…” Sakura trails off, not sure how to say he looked like shit in a polite way, and she settles on, “exhausted.”

He gives a soft grunt of agreement, admitting, “It’s not my blood.” 

“So what happened?” When he hesitates, she goes on, “You can tell me. I’m not angry with you. I spoke to the Hokage, and I don’t like that you kept everything a secret, but I understand. So please, no more secrets.”

His hands trail her side, and when she winces, so does he. His head shifts, and without looking Sakura knows he’s eyeing her injured arm and the scrapes along her skin, “I understand… but you need to go to a hospital. Can we get you cleaned up there, and then I’ll explain everything?”

Sakura can’t help it, she chuckles at that phrasing, considering Gaara is the one covered in blood. “Alright.”

The hospital staff has a lot of questions—all reasonable, considering Gaara is covered in blood and Sakura is roughed up, with a fracture in her arm and two broken ribs. Some of the questions are of the domestic variety—whether or not this incident was on purpose, and if anything like it has happened before. Sakura answers adamantly in Gaara’s defense; this had been an accident, and once he realized it was her approaching, he was only terrified that he’d hurt her. She finds out the origin of the blood through the questioning, Gaara sheepishly explaining that he’d been sitting on the steeple when he was confronted by a Sound shinobi, who challenged him to battle. When the nurse asks if the Sound shinobi had made it to the hospital as well, Gaara notes, “No, ma’am, he did not survive. I expect his, ah, remains are still where I left them.”

The nurse shudders, shooting Sakura a glance, “Miss, if you’ll come with me…?” When Gaara stands as if to come with, she squeaks, “Just Miss Haruno in the exam room, sir. The doctor will be healing her injuries and she’ll be out shortly, good as new.”

His hands dart for the hem of her shirt. 

“Can’t he come in with me?” Sakura asks. 

“I’m afraid not,” the nurse shakes her head, clutching at her clipboard. “The exam rooms are private.”

Sakura pats Gaara on the shoulder, leaning to press a chaste kiss to his temple, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He chokes up at the affection, looking up at her with worried eyes, and says as though he has a choice, “Okay.” As she departs, following the nurse out of the waiting area, he gingerly touches the spot she’d kissed on his temple. With a shaky sigh, he brings that hand to his chest, clutching at his shirt and feeling his heartbeat against his knuckles. 

A different nurse approaches, asking if he’d like to get cleaned up while he waits. 

Sakura is brought to an exam room, where a cheerful doctor explains how he’s going to heal her bones with chakra. She’s interested in that, musing, wondering if she can do that too. She’s allowed to stay awake for it, focusing on the feel of someone else’s chakra as it seeps into her bones and gingerly repositions and mends her breaks. Sakura likes the idea of medical ninjutsu—She wants to be a doctor in the real world, after all.

It’s a long process, painful when her bones move, and when the doctor is done with that he focuses on a few more of her surface scrapes. At this point, in the easier part of the process, he asks questions while he works—Similar to the nurse in the lobby, they’re about Gaara and whether she’s frightened and in need of protection. 

An older man enters the room as her doctor is explaining the sling she’d be wearing to protect her arm for the next few days, and Sakura does a double take. “Uh,” Sakura blanches, “hello?” 

He stares blankly at her for a moment, “What, nobody’s excited to see their sensei anymore? Sasuke was just as unenthusiastic.”

Sakura shakes her head, remembering this isn’t her lazy college counselor, “Oh, I’m a bit out of it, I guess.” A text box identifies him, Kakashi Hatake, her sensei. But why does he wear a mask here? Grumpy with his intrusion, she wants to point out that she thought the exam rooms were private. 

Kakashi glances at the doctor, who gets the message, handing Sakura a prescription for mild pain medication and directing her on how to put on her sling, before making himself scarce. As the door shuts, Kakashi gets right to the point, “So, I’ve been briefed about the situation by—and I can’t believe I’m saying this in relation to you—an Anbu Officer. You’re an adult, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I’m just checking in.” 

Sakura squints. She’s pretty sure her counselor said that exact sentence when she asked for advice about signing up for her courses. “I’m okay. There was a misunderstanding. He’d just been attacked by a Sound shinobi, and didn’t recognize me when I approached. Gaara would never attack me on purpose.” 

Kakashi grunts at that, hands stuffed in his pockets, “You were supposed to be the careful one.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Just watch out for trouble. I’ll keep an eye on you, just in case.” He moves to leave as nonchalantly as he entered, grumbling under his breath. 

Sakura stares at the door as he leaves. Is… Is he responsible for her ninja training? No wonder she’s gone on, training with Gaara undisturbed, for this long. Dr. Hatake is the worst counselor she’s ever had. She can’t really imagine him as a good shinobi, when she already knows he’s a lazy teacher—even if he is hot. But it becomes abundantly clear that the doctor isn’t coming back, so she wanders out, checking with the receptionist to make sure she doesn’t need anything else before she meets Gaara in the waiting area.

His eyes are drawn to her sling, to the minor cuts and scrapes the doctor had bandaged and left to heal on their own.

“Look at you,” she says to distract him, “they’ve got you all cleaned up.” Well, mostly. 

She leads Gaara, hand in hand, to her home. Once they’ve arrived, standing awkwardly in her living room, she takes the initiative to pull him in. She tucks her sling against her chest, the other arm wrapping around his waist in a half-hug. 

Gaara’s arms wrap around her, his head resting against her neck. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” he says, shaking. “I didn’t know how to tell you I came here to hurt your village, your friends, you. I knew you would hate me for it. I’m sorry for hiding it. I kept telling myself I could be happy for just a little longer, to pretend that you would ever come with me after you knew, and then it was all over.”

“I can understand that,” Sakura supposes, “but I don’t hate you. I was hurt, and angry. In my last relationship, I was cheated on, so to be lied to… that really hurt. It felt like none of it was true on your end, and I’d been a fool.” 

“You’re not,” Gaara says urgently. “I need you to understand, I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you. Everything I told you was true, I—”

Sakura shifts back, surprised. Is he going to say it? 

“I want you by my side,” he murmurs, his face red, taking the opportunity to nudge his nose into hers, “always.”

Sakura smiles at that, “Always, it is. I forgive you, if there’ll be no more secrets.” She’s not ready for the end of the route quite yet, and maybe she’s wasted enough time—small as it was—being angry with him. She can keep real life and game life separate, right? She wonders if that counts as a secret from him, if she’s a hypocrite about it. Could he handle knowing something like that? And isn’t that exactly how he felt about her, thinking she’d never understand?

“No secrets,” he agrees. “Never again, I swear it.”

It’s different, Sakura forces the justification—but is it really? Alright. She’ll tell him, just—just not right now. He’s fragile right now. He’s had a hard night, in no small part thanks to her. Nervous, she changes the subject, “Are you worried about your siblings?”

He grunts softly, as if to say no, his siblings are absolutel

Sakura is waiting in the greenhouse at 11 A.M. sharp, per the instructions of one Miss Hinata Hyūga, working today as co-chair of the photography club—Hinata has a list of accolades running ten miles long, she says, to impress her pain-in-the-ass father. 

She’d borrowed a white sundress and strappy sandals from Ino, pairing it with her own mint green cardigan, and asked Ino to help her braid her hair. Ino had gone the extra mile, weaving white ribbon through the braid.

“Sakura,” Hinata greets her, two boys lugging in her equipment, “you look so good!”

Two sets of eyes peek over the bags of equipment, and Sakura freezes in her spot. “Oh.” She awkwardly lifts a hand in greeting, “Hey, Gaara. Hey, uh, Sasuke.” Hinata didn’t know anything about her past relationship—less than Gaara who only knew by extension, from explaining Itachi that one time at breakfast.

Gaara sets his bag of equipment down, next to one of the nursery shelves. He looks at her, and then away, his ears red, “You look pretty.”

Hinata glances expectantly at Sasuke, and when he doesn’t say anything, only fiddling with his backpack strap, she introduces him, “Sakura, this is Sasuke Uchiha from the photography club. Sasuke, this is Sakura.”

Sasuke opens his mouth, but Sakura interjects, a fake smile plastered on her face, “We’ve met actually. So, what do you want to do for the shoot?” 

Sasuke quirks a grimace, indicating he recognizes the situation is awkward. 

“I’m going to pose you up against some of the plants here, and then we will check out a few spots on campus to see if we can get some good shots, okay?” She starts to rifle through her camera bag, “I haven’t shot at the fountain yet, so I’m really excited about that one. Then, Sasuke will edit and he or I can send you the digital copies.”

“Mm,” Sakura offers, “well, you already have my number Hinata, you can just send them to me.”

“I have your number too,” Sasuke protests pointedly. Jade eyes meet obsidian. 

Sakura squints, her smile unfaltering, “Oh, do you?” Just what is he playing at? Would it kill him to shut his damn mouth? Whatever, she was bound to see him around campus eventually. She’s an adult. She’ll help out Hinata and then politely let her know afterward. 

Gaara glances between the pair of them, sensing the animosity, “Where do you want her set up, Hinata?”

Hinata hums, adjusting her camera, “We have some cool looking ferns over on the left side. And then maybe with the tomatoes, Sakura could eat one.”

Sasuke quips, “She doesn’t like tomatoes.”

Hinata pauses, “Oh… If you don’t like them, you don't have to eat one.”

Sakura bristles, haughtily fluffing her cardigan, “I like tomatoes just fine! It’s ‘cause I’ve only had shit tomatoes before, right Gaara?” Can’t he mind his business?

Gaara stifles a laugh, “Right.” In the heat of Sasuke’s glare, Gaara turns away, his hand covering his mouth.

Sakura stands between the ferns, their leaves tickling her, and poses as Hinata tells her to.

“Quick, boys, say something funny,” Hinata orders, camera poised. 

“Ah,” Gaara starts, “knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” Sakura quirks a smile.

“A little old lady.”

“A little old lady who?”

“Wow, I didn’t know you could yodel,” Gaara finishes, looking sheepish.

Sakura snorts, “Gaara, honey, no.”

“Wow, that was awful,” Hinata teases him.

“Naruto told me that joke, actually, but I’ll let him know what you ladies thought of it.”

“Did I say awful?” Hinata gives a clearly fake chuckle, “I meant awfully funny! Next! Sasuke, your turn.”

Sasuke hesitates, sharing an uncomfortable look with Sakura. “Well,” he starts, “do you remember in fifth grade, when our parents took us all boating and we bet who could stand on the inner tube the longest—and I got hit with that fish?” 

Sakura smiles fondly at the memory, giving a soft ‘pfft.’ They were still just kids, all gangly and unimpressive, and while she’d already liked him for years at the time—life was a lot simpler. Sakura barks out a laugh at the memory, “And your dad was so worked up about it, he made us all go fishing for dinner.”

“I got my revenge. The fish was pretty good.” Sasuke cracks a smile.

“No,” Sakura shakes her head, “I remember, Itachi caught that fish! Don’t take the credit.”

His smile falters. “Oh, that’s right.”

Sakura isn’t sure what she said wrong—Itachi, Sasuke, and Sakura were all thick as thieves as children, even if Itachi was often busy with the extracurriculars his parents put him in. But she senses the easy moment is gone, so she drops it.

Luckily, Hinata comes to the rescue, “I got some great shots! Okay, let’s do the tomatoes and then maybe the tulip beds near the library. Those colors will really pop with your outfit.”

It’s a long day, and by the end, Sakura is sick of posing. She’s not having a bad time, per se. Even Sasuke is fine company, if she doesn’t have to think about it too much, but by the large stone fountain, Hinata asks Gaara to show her where the closest bathroom is. They say they’ll be right back, asking Sakura and Sasuke to watch their equipment and heading off before either can really protest. 

“So...” Sasuke starts awkwardly, scuffing his shoe along the pavement. “You do, by the way. Look nice.”

“Thanks,” Sakura says flatly.

“The thing you left at my dorm—” Sasuke starts.

“I told you to leave it with Itachi, if it’s so important,” Sakura interrupts him. “Or get rid of it. I had Ino drop off some hoodies and stuff at his place, you should’ve gotten them by now.”

Sasuke’s foot stops scuffing, “Ah, Itachi and I actually aren’t talking right now.”

That gives Sakura pause, “Not talking? You and Itachi? Why not?” Since she first met them—before that, even when Sasuke was a little kid—Sasuke’s always idolized Itachi, and Itachi loves Sasuke. He’s always been protective over him, and her as an extension of Sasuke. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Sasuke pulls a bottle of water from his bag, taking a swig before he answers, brushing it off, “Stay out of it.”

Sakura grits her teeth, trying to swallow her anger, but it bubbles to the surface despite her. “You know, that’s your problem. I was asking to be nice, because I know you two, even though you were a giant asshole to me recently—in case you forgot. And Itachi actually came up to me when we first broke up, trying to convince me to talk to you, so whatever is wrong with you, consider he’s on your side even when you’re on your bullshit again.”

Sasuke grits his teeth right back at her, roughly tossing his bottle back in his bag, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, “Oh, really? Because I’ve only known you both forever.” She takes a step forward, challenging him, “You’re a cold person, Sasuke. This is what I get, I guess, for trying to have a conversation with you.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here either,” he snaps at her, practically chest to chest. “You think it’s easy to stand there and let Hinata take pictures while that other dude is making puppy dog eyes at you?”

“P—” Sakura balks, her cheeks heating up, “Puppy dog eyes?! I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Gaara’s my friend!”

“Please,” Sasuke scoffs, mocking him, “‘You look pretty, Sakura.’ ‘I know all the good tomatoes, Sakura.’ ‘Let me tell you a stupid knock knock joke, Sakura.’”

“Do you even hear yourself? And even if that was true, it’s hardly your business.” Sakura stomps her foot and then turns sharply on her heel, “I’m leaving! Tell them I wasn’t feeling well all of a sudden, and I’m very sorry!” But as she turns, her sandal catches, and she pitches forward.

Automatically, Sasuke’s hands dart forward to try and catch her, but with his bag strap tucked in the crook of his elbow, he does little except drag himself down with her. He stumbles, falling practically to the side so he doesn’t land on her, knee catching on the side of the fountain with a sharp crack as he tumbles right in.

“Oh—!” Sakura scrambles up from the pavement, standing over him in the fountain and offering out a hand to help him out, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he snaps, but there’s no malice in it—He’s just utterly embarrassed. He refuses her hand, climbing out of the fountain himself, his wet clothes dripping all over the pavement. 

There’s a soft gasp from behind them, and Sakura turns to see Hinata and Gaara approaching.

“Oh no,” Hinata says, looking between them, “what happened?”

“I tripped, and Sasuke tried to catch me,” Sakura admits, watching Sasuke gather his things. “And then he fell in the fountain.”

“You’re bleeding,” Gaara points out, approaching her. It’s true, her knees are scraped up.

“Sorry, Hinata,” Sasuke grumbles, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m gonna drop off the equipment in the art room and head home.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll carry it,” Hinata says, her arm reaching out to take the bag from him.

“It’s fine,” he snaps, skulking off, refusing to look back in their direction.

Hinata hesitates, “Gaara, I’ll take the rest of the equipment, why don’t you take Sakura back then?” 

“Of course. Do you need help walking, Sakura? I could carry you,” Gaara fumbles, “uh, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no,” Sakura flushes, focusing on her roughed up knees to avoid meeting his eyes. “I can walk. I’m tougher than I look.” So, she’s lying to game Gaara by not saying she’s from another world, or that when he tells her that he loves her she’ll disappear from his memories—and even if she’s decided, for now, not to make him suffer, what about real Gaara and the fact that she’s dating a virtual version of him in her dreams?

“Alright,” he says, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Do you have a first aid kit in your dorm? If not, I don’t mind swinging by a store.”

“Thanks, Gaara,” Sakura smiles at that. “We have one. It was on the freshman prep list, and I’m a loser for lists. You can never be too prepared, right?”

At Sakura’s dorm, in the presence of a gawking Ino, Gaara returns with Sakura. “Hey,” he greets her casually, “Sakura fell, do you know where your first aid kit is?” 

Ino finds their first aid kit and watches at her own desk chair as Gaara insists Sakura sit while he tends to her scrapes. 

Sakura flushes, averting her eyes when she has to hike up the sundress—She’d have to remember to apologize to Ino, even though the small streaks of blood would probably come out fine. They make eye contact, and she’s caught off guard by Ino’s sly smile.

“‘S gonna sting a bit,” Gaara says, taking a cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide and gingerly running it along her scrapes.

Sakura winces, but it’s not her first fall. She’ll be fine.

Ino spends the evening, long after Gaara is gone, lecturing her over being more careful—both literally, in not hurting herself, and for wasting her time talking to her ex-boyfriend. She reminds her to text Hinata about it, but the day was such a disaster, Sakura partly wants to avoid more awkwardness. “Seriously, last thing,” Ino says as they settle in for bed, “why don’t you just suck it up and date someone new?”

Sakura is dating someone new, technically, but she doesn’t want to explain that to Ino. The thought of balancing a real relationship with her ‘night-life’ sounds… absolutely exhausting. To get out of the contract for the game, she has to beat it, and at least for now that’s enough. “I think I’m going to stay away from dating for a while,” Sakura shrugs, getting comfortable.

“Well, if you change your mind, I know some cute guys. Available, nice, cute guys, and if they do anything rude, I’ll beat them up free of charge.”

Sakura chuckles at that, “Comforting, Ino.”

♡ ♥ ♡

Gaara has explained the plan for the final exam—It’s nothing less than a full on coup. By the end of the week, during the exam when the Sand and the Sound are supposed to have launched their attack on the Leaf village, the Sand will betray the Sound and their own Kazekage to stand with Konoha. 

And that’s only the grand scale. The Hokage has already been taken to a secret location. Gaara wanted Sakura to be taken there too, he’d explained their next morning together, but she declined so adamantly that Gaara was forced to settle—She would stay as close to him as possible until the exam, and then she would stay with Kakashi. 

Anbu agents would be positioned around the arena, Leaf shinobi stationed outside prepping a quiet evacuation and dealing with the Sound shinobi. With the aid of the Sand shinobi, they’ll crush the opposing Sound, and then there would be Gaara’s role—

Or, as they’ll be calling him the day of the exam, Lord Hokage.  

Provided that everything goes according to plan, his siblings would position a clone of him until the time of his own exam—when he would have to maintain a sand clone to fight in his stead, and that’ll be convincing enough, because of his well known sand armor. That very same sand armor would be used to create the disguise of the Lord Hokage, and upon confrontation he would be the one to kill the Kazekage and claim the title for himself with the council’s support.

Sakura thought they would spend their time training, but Gaara chooses to build his chakra reserves. They visit the hospital to see Lee—When he is conscious, Gaara apologizes, and to Lee’s credit he gives a speech about the true honor of battle and facing an opponent such as Gaara, and that next time he will be stronger than ever—Sasuke, and Naruto. 

The days go by quickly and before they know it, it’s the afternoon before the exam. Konoha has a festival to celebrate both the upcoming exam and the peace between villages—though the public knew little of how fragile that peace truly is—and Gaara had asked her to go. He’s attended festivals before, he explained that morning, but always in the background of his father’s political entourage. Never to have fun, and certainly never on a date.

So how can Sakura refuse that? She rummages through her closet, looking for a dress—

“Those are your kimonos there,” Sai appears, talking to her over her shoulder, his arm extending to point to a corner of her wardrobe.

Sakura jumps, startled. When she settles, she shoots him a soft glare before she grabs a kimono—mostly white, with a few deep pink flowers printed across the fabric. She puts it on, trying to wrap it around, and Sai holds out her sash for her to tie around the midsection. 

When Sakura only looks at it quizzically, he rolls his eyes and ties it, “Stay still, I’ll help you.” He pulls a red obi from her closet, gingerly tying it around her waist. His hands dart up to fumble with her hair, putting it up for her, a white hair ornament holding it in place. He takes a step back, admiring his work, “There, much better.”

Sakura approaches her mirror, marveling. “Wow,” Sakura turns to beam at Sai, “thank you!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sai shoos her downstairs, “save it for your man, he’s waiting for you downstairs.”

Sakura descends, carefully pinching her kimono so that she doesn’t fall, and Gaara’s expression at the bottom of the stairs is worth letting Sai play dress up with her. He stares at her, wide eyed, mouth a small ‘o,’ his ears flushed red. His formal clothes are a sight to see—deep reds and blacks, and he still has his gourd strapped to his back. Sakura supposes, considering the stakes tomorrow, that he wouldn’t risk leaving it behind.

“You’re so handsome,” Sakura reaches up, cupping his cheek, and his expression melts into a fond smile.

“Please,” he says, pulling her in by the waist and pressing his forehead to hers, “you are radiant, how can the sun call me warm?”

Sakura smiles, gently bumping her nose to his, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, let’s.”

Sakura inwardly thanks the game for her limitless funds, happy to buy for them both anything Gaara’s gaze lingers on as they walk through the lantern-lit festival. He flushes, insisting that he can pay for them both, and Sakura chides him with a tap on his nose, “It’s our last full night like this, let me treat you!” It’s true—After the coup, everything is bound to become more complicated, and though Gaara promised to find a way for her to join him in Suna as quickly as possible, it’s hard to predict how long it will take the village to recover from the sudden loss of their leader. 

They settle at a stall selling crepes, purchasing two strawberry crepes and sitting at an empty table. As they eat, Gaara notices a pair of eyes on them, nodding as if to invite him over. “Baki,” he greets the Jōnin cooly, eyes slightly narrowed.

The man, his head mostly wrapped in a linen scarf, approaches warily. “Hello,” he glances at Sakura, “Temari told me about you.”

Sakura isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, so she settles on, “Hello,” before taking a bite of her food.

“Baki is my sensei,” Gaara says, before pausing. “Well, sort of. He looked over Temari, Kankurō, and I, but I was responsible for much of my own training. Though, I have not been very agreeable to train with in the past, so that makes sense.”

Sakura quirks a brow, “What do you mean? You were always really patient with me.”

Baki snorts at that, “I must admit, when Gaara announced the night after the first exam that he was leaving, and if any of us bothered him he’d kill us, you aren’t what I was expecting. It was Kankurō, eventually, who figured it out.”

Gaara searches for his brother in the crowd, eyes narrowed, “I recently made a promise to not threaten Kankurō’s life, so please remind my brother to mind his business.”

Baki takes an indulgent step back. “Er, it’s not like that. We’re—Your siblings and I, that is—happy for you. It’s good to see you focused on an objective, and serving your village.”

Gaara pauses, maintaining eye contact with his teacher, before nodding. It’s an agreement and a dismissal.

Baki nods his head back to him, turning and heading off into the crowd.

“Not what they were expecting, hm?” Sakura chuckles at that.

“No,” Gaara admits, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck in his embarrassment, “I expect he was worried I’d gone off to hurt someone. I’m sure word has gotten to him that I’ve killed that Sound shinobi, but I wouldn’t have believed it myself if someone told me that I’d come to Konoha to run off with a girl.”

“But you did,” Sakura teases with a small smile.

“I did,” Gaara smiles sheepishly back at her.

They see other friendly faces—Naruto, Ino, even Temari and Kankurō, who took ‘mind his business’ as a threat and offered a friendly wave before scurrying off—but they don’t stay at the festival for too long. The Hokage has made plans for Gaara to leave tonight, to take his position for the events of tomorrow. Gaara drops her off at her home, standing with her on her front steps. Before he goes, he draws Sakura into his arms, kissing her softly and murmuring assurances against her lips that everything is going to be fine. “Soon,” he says as he pulls back, fingers moving up to caress her cheek, “I will be the Kazekage, and if you’ll have me, you’ll be the Kazekage’s bride.”

Sakura squeaks, leaning into his chest—He’d said so before, but having come so far, knowing this is the end of their time together, she’s struck with a sudden sadness at the end of it all. “I will, Gaara,” she says, her hands gripping his dress shirt. She wishes he didn’t have to go, she wishes the world was kinder to him, and wonders what will happen when she’s gone.

He smoothes her hair, kissing the crown of her head and departing with a soft smile on his lips. 

Sakura spends the night, and the next day in the real world, fretting about the final exam—and the impending battle that comes with it. 

She’s sitting in the arena stadium, next to Ino, and notes Kakashi standing a reasonable distance away as she settles in her spot. Ino is as chipper as ever, chattering about the upcoming matches and about Sasuke not being here yet—Wait, why is Sasuke not here yet? Running late? Did something happen to him? She shakes her head; she doesn’t have time for that right now.

‘Gaara,’ clone Gaara projected by his sister Temari, is down there with the other contestants. The real Gaara sits above, disguised as the Hokage, a few feet from his father. 

To give credit to the matches, they’re entertaining enough. Naruto fights Neji Hyūga, who tells a tragic tale of subservient branches of his family and the politically motivated murder of his father by the village—Seriously, what is this Hokage up to? Sakura thinks Naruto has lost the match several times throughout, but he’s always got one more trick up his sleeve, and his determination pushes him through for the win.

“You did it!” Sakura cheers for him, her hands still shaking with her nerves. Watching his battle makes Sakura want to work harder, to be stronger and more capable in her future routes. 

Sasuke’s tardiness does affect the plan though—There’s a lot of speculation on what will happen, as generally a tardy candidate would be disqualified, but Sakura can see the Kazekage leaning over to talk to the Hokage about it. Ultimately, the match is pushed, and Sakura knows why—The fight is expected to serve as the catalyst for the impending battle, which she assumes the Kazekage still thinks is a secret. 

Shino and Kankurō are supposed to be up next, but Kankurō forfeits the match. This makes sense to Sakura, since he wouldn’t want to wear himself out before the real fighting, but Temari steps up to her match without hesitation. 

Her battle with Shikamaru is an excellent one—They’re both clearly intelligent, Shikamaru for staying out of range of her wind attacks and Temari for calculating Shikamaru’s shadow possession jutsu. Sakura isn’t jealous of their predicament at all, she doesn’t think she could take either in battle. Shikamaru surprises Sakura by forfeiting the match just when it seems he’s finally gotten Temari, claiming to be low on chakra. 

Sasuke finally arrives, right on time—Well, right on time… for the second scheduled time, he’s actually incredibly late considering when his match was supposed to take place—for his match against the Gaara clone. His speed has increased exponentially, on par with Lee’s speed that Gaara had trouble with in the preliminaries, but the stakes are significantly higher. His sand has to prove the ultimate defense here. If his sand clone disappears, the mission is blown, and he still needs to maintain enough chakra to fight his father. 

  Just as Sasuke is revealing a new jutsu, crackling lightning that he holds in his palm, a smoke bomb fires off in the Kage box. Sakura turns, alarmed, worried for Gaara, when a jutsu is cast over the audience. Her eyes grow heavy, panic bubbling within her as her eyes shut. 

When she wakes, Kakashi has her wedged under his arm, releasing her from the jutsu as he prepares to fend off attacking ninja. “Can you stand?” he asks her, but it’s hardly a question, as he forces her to her feet as her eyes open.

“Yes, sensei,” she replies in a half-daze, pulling a kunai from her side pouch. As Kakashi dispatches the attacking ninja, Sakura searches for Gaara and is disturbed by what she finds.

Behind a barrier erected by four Sound ninja is Gaara, disguise still intact, and the Kazekage—peeling his face off to reveal he’s the same man who attacked Sakura and her team in the Forest of Death, Orochimaru. Sakura sucks in a sharp breath of air. She’d thought in the moment that Gaara could have taken him, but here, with him trapped in a glowing box one-on-one, she’s terrified to know for sure.

Chaos is all around her, and Sakura—a college student thrust into this shinobi world—is woefully unprepared for the reality of war. Kakashi urges her to stay behind him, and she does, bracing her kunai knife timidly. Still, her sensei can’t protect her from everyone, and when a Sound ninja comes for her, she reacts instinctively.

She hears Gaara’s instructions, to sweep his leg, to use his weight against him, and so she does. The Sound ninja starts to fall and without thinking, Sakura wields her kunai and cuts him through his pant leg, deep along his inner thigh—his femoral artery. The cut is deep enough to kill, the shinobi desperately pressing against the injury as Sakura stands over him gawking, but to no avail. Within minutes, he’s lost consciousness and would shortly bleed out all over the stadium stairs. 

Sakura takes a hesitant step backwards. She’d just killed a man. Sure, she’s fought in her time here, and there were times where she thought it was going to be to the death—She was ready to defend Naruto and Sasuke until the end in the Forest of Death, whatever it took—but here she is, blood spattered at the bottom of her dress and on her shoes.

It’s not real, she tells herself, wide eyed. It’s not real. This is a game. She’s going to wake up in her room, and everything is going to be fine. 

“Sakura,” Kakashi calls out, “pay attention!” 

But Sakura can’t move, all she can think about is how much blood there is. There’s a loud clang from behind her as Kakashi blocks a kunai thrown in her direction. He hoists her up, blood dripping—Sakura gags, realizing there’s blood all over her hands. Okay, it’s okay. Everything is going to be fine.

Kakashi positions himself on the rooftop of the barrier, where several Anbu agents are trying to figure out how to get inside, and Sakura panics at the scene there. 

Gaara is trapped inside against that man, the evil man who attacked Sasuke and almost killed them all—What happened to Gaara’s father? Behind even that, she can see the battle at the edge of the village, Sand and Leaf working together to fight snakes bigger than those inside the forests, monsters crushing the wall protecting the village. 

“It’s alright, Sakura,” Kakashi tells her—but it’s not.

Sakura can see the chaotic swirls of Gaara’s sand, rushing to combat Orochimaru as he attacks. They both must’ve been caught off guard, neither who the other expected. Her hands dart up to her mouth, terrified for him. What if he doesn’t win? What happens if Gaara dies? Does she restart the route, does she lose her Gaara?

But she doesn’t have to wonder long. As Orochimaru veers in to attack, a tendril of Gaara’s sand crushes both of his arms in a desperate sand coffin technique. Orochimaru escapes back before the sand can crush his torso, but the spell is broken, the four Sound shinobi maintaining the barrier have lost their confidence in the invasion. Around them, the Sound shinobi are pushed back by the Sand and Leaf working together.

They break the jutsu, escaping with Orochimaru and their lives. The Anbu, of course, give chase, but Sakura sprints for Gaara, crying out his name.

Exhausted, he turns, opening his arms for her as she launches into them. His sand armor dissipates, sucked into his gourd, and underneath he looks utterly exhausted. But Sakura is hardly comforted, because she saw when he turned toward her—she saw his heart, bright red for her.

“Sakura,” he says soothingly, voice husky and tired, “are you injured?”

“I’m fine,” she says, but she’s not. She presses her face into his neck, squeezing her arms around him.

“I know this isn’t the opportune time,” he says, pulling back, his hand smoothing her hair, “but I have to say something.”

Sakura can feel her panic rising. It’s all about to be over. It’s happening too quickly, she’s not ready to say goodbye. She never got to tell him, she never got to know whether or not he would understand—that this isn’t her world and she loves him anyway.

“I once thought love was a weakness,” he moves to cup her chin, his nose brushing against hers, “I thought bonds were something I was never destined to have, and that I was stronger for it. But I was wrong. You’ve given me the strength to know that I can be a good man, I can protect my people and show them a new way, with you at my side. I love you, Sakura Haruno.”

And there they are, the three words. “Gaara,” Sakura says, her voice breaking, “I love you too.” Stupid, she tells herself, stupid, stupid girl. This isn't real. It’s going to be okay. Don’t cry.

“I once vowed to never love again,” he leans down, his lips ghosting over hers, “but I was wrong. I vow to love you for the rest of my life.”

Afraid that this is all about to be taken from her, Sakura moves forward, boldly pressing her lips to his, and they kiss until this world fades to nothing in Sakura’s mind.

Sakura wakes up in her room, Sai sitting calmly at the edge of her bed. She sits up, half-tempted to glance around her room looking for a man that she knows won’t be there.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Two: Deidara of Iwa - Purple Heart

“You should be looking for a new route,” Sai follows Sakura down the streets of Konoha, in a pace carefully crafted to look like minimal effort even though he’s in a hurry to keep up with her, “not stuck on your last one.”

“He’s all alone now,” Sakura’s hands twist at the hem of her shirt as she strides throughout the lobby of the game.

“If you replay his route, it won’t be exactly the same,” Sai reminds her, reaching to grab her by the crook of her elbow and grunting as she forces him forward anyway. “You would be essentially erasing the memories and starting over. If you just wait until you unlock his Second Act, then he’ll be back, but again, he isn’t real—” He comes to a stop, dropping his grip on her, convinced she isn’t listening to him because she’s found who she’s looking for.

Gaara of the Desert sits on a stone ledge overlooking a nearby path, and he looks down at Sakura casually. “Sakura,” he greets, not indifferently, but not with the usual softness that she had grown accustomed to in his route.

“Hi, Gaara,” she tests, but when she can’t see the fondness for her in his eyes—they just aren’t lighting up the way they’re supposed to—she knows that their romance together is over, at least for now. “Sai,” she starts, her voice sullen, “how do I unlock the other Act?”

“After every five routes, you unlock the Second Acts for those five, and bonus content is unlocked throughout the game.”

“So, four more,” Sakura nods. “I can do that.” Looking at him, perched there, without knowing that he loves her and—as much as it paints her to admit it—she loves him. It’s a smaller goal along her path to beat the game, and be rid of it. Something to look forward to, since she isn’t ready to let go.

“You do realize that real-life Gaara is living a full, happy life, and although his Dad is a bit overbearing,” Sai grumbles, resting against a wall, “he’s perfectly fine.”

Sakura wonders for a moment how he would know that—but of all the wild, magical coincidences of this game, it’s almost breaking a dam to ask at this point. Instead, she simply says, “But he’s not this Gaara. He needs me.” 

Sai dwells on that for a moment, before responding, “Sakura, I think if you overthink the sad backstory of every character you meet here, this game will not serve its essential function: to be fun.”

"Breaking my heart over and over sounds like the exact opposite of fun,” Sakura retorts gruffly. “If you don’t want me to overthink the sad backstories, don’t make them so sad.”

“It’s not like I wrote them,” Sai huffs. “When you wake, you’ll have the opportunity to pick a new route, and with it access additional reading material that will help you progress through all of your routes. The Random function in choosing routes will automatically exclude routes you’ve completed, so if you do decide to play Gaara’s route again, then you’ll have to make a point of selecting it.”

“Fine,” Sakura crosses her arms, “let’s get this over with so that I can see Gaara again.”

…

“Are you alright?” Ino asks, leaning back in her desk chair. She’d been slowly working through her homework, but the lethargic refusal of Sakura to get out of bed—well, it wasn’t like her. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“‘S nothing,” Sakura says, eyes half-lidded, looking through the Root app on her phone. She hits random on a new route, but quickly exits out of that section in order to avoid watching the preview, and she browses the new reading available to her. “Bad dream.” She’s not quite ready to wake up, but she doesn’t want to go back to sleep and face someone new.

“Oh,” Ino says hesitantly. “Okay, um, sure. If you change your mind, y’know, I’m right here.”

Sakura shifts, browsing through her phone. She’s unlocked reading material on the Akatsuki, a small band of powerful criminals gathering the tailed beasts—the article lists Naruto and Gaara. Most of the information, including the major members, have been redacted besides four: Itachi Uchiha, Kisame Hoshigaki, Kakuzu, and Hidan. Clearly, there’s information missing, and the names of the other members are blocked out on her phone screen. Most of the information is on Itachi Uchiha, which makes sense. He’s a missing nin from Sakura’s village, and there’s an incident report stating he recently tried and failed to kidnap Naruto. 

The other articles are on beginner medical ninjutsu, something she was introduced to near the end of Gaara’s route. The prospect of it is exciting—not enough to rouse her from her bad mood, but enough to pique her interest. Evidently, the process requires the use of her chakra to mend wounds, a process made easier if you have aide of conduits natural to the body of the patient. For example, using the patient’s own hair to introduce your chakra to the system and mend wounds. Otherwise, if it’s too sudden, the patient’s body is likely to reject a foreign chakra. 

The basics of medical ninjutsu boil down to facets of medicine that simply make sense:

• Diagnosis: running both hands over a patient, probing with chakra to search for problems in the body. 

• Cleansing: the ability to sanitize yourself, or a wound, in order to prevent it from becoming infected. 

• Massage: applying small amounts of chakra along with standard massage techniques, to relax muscles. 

• Extraction: removing foreign objects, like a bullet in an ER, using chakra. 

There’s a comprehensive list of jutsu for her to study: creating temporary bandages, forcing oxygen flow, coagulating blood to help with an injury, poison removal, temperature control, and highlighted with an extensive section all its own is the Healing Hands Technique. The rest of the information is redacted, so Sakura expects that this is all her character is expected to know for the route she picked.

Her phone buzzes, breaking her concentration. 

It’s Shino: ‘Hey. What are you doing today?’

Sakura inhales sharply. Nothing? Being upset? Refusing to do her homework for class tomorrow? She responds: ‘To be honest, I’m having a rough morning and I’m in a bad mood.’

She expects that to be enough to scare him off—it always worked on Sasuke, who would retreat at the first sign of a bad mood, because her bad mood would inevitably set off his, so he’d give her space.

Instead, the text she gets is: ‘Okay, I’m on my way.’

Sakura blinks at that. On his way… to hang out with her? Even though she’d literally just warned him that she’s going to bring him down? 

'You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.’ She types the message out, but she doesn’t send it. Honestly, knowing about her game problems, maybe he would understand?

She takes a moment to think about that before yelping, swinging her legs out of bed. She moves to rifle through her closet, looking for something to wear on short notice that wasn’t her current pajamas—at least a bra.

“Are you going somewhere?” Ino asks, alarmed.

“Shino just announced he’s coming over,” Sakura quickly yanks a bra from her laundry basket, deciding any would do.

Ino perks up at that, “Wow, what a coincidence!” She scrambles to gather up her homework, shoving it into her bookbag, “I was just thinking I should go study at the library!” 

“Wh—” Sakura snaps, t-shirt tossed to the side as she struggles to put her bra on faster than normal, “You were not!” 

“Was too,” Ino chirps, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “Would you look at the time? I’d better get going or all the good, uh, books will be taken!”

“You’re an awful liar!” Sakura yanks on her same t-shirt in a rush to chastise her friend for ditching her. She pauses by her desk, quickly putting on some deodorant. 

“Leave your hair down, just use some product and style it a bit, boys love tidy bedhead, bye!” Ino darts for the door, practically sprinting out into the hall.

“It’s not like that!” Sakura shouts at the closed door, Ino long gone, “And what the fuck is tidy bedhead?!” She scoffs, frustrated, turning to the mirror. Stupid Ino. Stupid—Does her hair look that bad? Alright, fine.

She finds some product, rubbing it together in her hands and twisting it through her hair to transform it from bedhead to wavy. Okay, that’s not so bad, like she woke up like this… just a little better. At least she put on a bra and some deodorant, right? As she’s distracted, there’s a knock on the door.

Game face, Sakura. She has totally normal, regular girl problems. She’s not heartbroken over a man that doesn’t exist. She’s not ready to put herself through it four more times just so he can hold her one more time. That would be ridiculous. She sucks in a deep breath, yanking open the door. 

Shino is there, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants—probably his own pajamas—holding a package of Oreos in his hands. “I’m here,” he says, one hand reaching up to adjust his glasses. “Sorry, this is all we had in the room at short notice. Didn’t have any milk either. If you don’t want company, I understand, but I hope they make you… feel better?”

Sakura doesn’t know what to say to that, but she quirks a smile, “I mean, I do like Oreos.” It’s not exactly a breakfast food, but she appreciates the effort.

“Good,” he rocks on his heels, “because I stole them from Kiba.”

“Come in,” Sakura steps to the side, “... and thanks for coming, Shino.”

“Of course,” he walks in as she shuts the door behind him. “How are you doing? Is it game stuff or real life stuff?”

Bashfully, Sakura admits, “Kind of both. Sorry to make you rush over.” She hops up on her bed, yanking the comforter up around her. 

Shino takes a seat at the end of her bed, opening the package to offer her a cookie. “You don’t have to be sorry, and you didn’t make me come over. I came over because I wanted to.”

Sakura takes a cookie, “But you shouldn’t have to deal with all my stupid relationship stuff.” She bites into it, and Shino stiffens.

“The only thing I shouldn’t have to deal with is how you just ate that Oreo,” Shino complains.

“Whaddaya mean?” Sakura grumbles, hand in front of her face as she chews.

He pulls the top cookie off, eating the cream before eating the two cookie ends. Once he’s done chewing, he clarifies, “That’s how you eat one.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sakura scoffs, face pulling into an incredulous smile. “How can you tell me, with your whole chest, that you think you’re supposed to lick the stuffing out of the middle before you eat it?”

“Well, the correct way is with milk, and then you’d be right,” Shino shrugs, “but since we’re eating raw Oreos—”

“What’s a raw Oreo?” Sakura cackles at that, grabbing another cookie. 

“No milk.”

“Pfft, that’s not a real thing.”

Shino reaches over, gently tapping her temple, “So, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, because your relationship stuff isn’t stupid, alright?” 

Sakura grumbles, but inwardly she’s happy to have a confidant. She scoots closer, wrapped in her comforter, pulling up her phone to show him the new information on the app. Embarrassed, she explains, “Everything felt so real, you know? It was a story about him developing feelings for me, and I couldn’t help but develop feelings too.” Her head flops against his shoulder, and she sighs in exasperation, “And then I have to do it all over again, you know? Like heartbreak isn’t shit enough the first time. What if I can’t handle it?”

“You’re going to be okay,” Shino says, adjusting to make his shoulder more comfortable. “You don’t have to rush through the routes, right? If the next one is difficult for you too, you can take a break after.” 

“Yeah,” Sakura sighs. “The last route was pretty wild. I killed a guy.” Her eyes widen, and she sits up with the realization, “Oh my god, the preview!”

“The…?” He pauses, before adding, “Killed a guy?”

“The preview, do you wanna watch it?” She rushes through the app to get back to the route screen, pushing the violence of the last route to the back of her mind. “You could help me game plan!” 

“Alright,” Shino says, leaning to get a good look at her phone.

Sakura loads the preview, watching the newest name appear on screen in sloping cursive:

Deidara of Iwa

“How come barely anybody has a last name?” Sakura complains, before explaining, “Iwa is another ninja village.” If a bunch of these people are missing last names, then why doesn’t anyone have the same name?

Bright explosions light up the screen, drawing both of their attention. The noise fades, screens changing to a group of adults chastising a pre-teen about setting off the explosions. Sakura observes the blond boy—who looked a little like Ino, if she had been a summer instead of a winter and, to state the obvious, male—doesn’t look very sorry at all. His hair is a brashly bright blond and falling in his face, his visible eye blue like the sky, and he’s absolutely covered in what looks like soot. The scene pans out, the evidence of his handiwork obvious; there’s a gaping crater in the wall of a training arena. 

The scene fades into Deidara, now a young man, face-to-face with none other than Itachi Uchiha. Deidara’s conceding defeat, and in the next shot he’s donning a black robe patterned with swirling red clouds.

“Sakura,” she hears him drawl as the screen fades to black, his voice playful, “you don’t have to be scared of me, yeah. I only bite a little.”

The screen changes to bright blue, zooming in on a white bird—a giant white bird, with Deidara holding Sakura against him on top of it, his cloak bundled around them both. He adjusts her against his chest, and behind them there’s smoke from whatever’s pursuing and firing at them. “I’ve got you,” he shouts to her, above the roaring whirr of the wind, “It’s gonna be fine, just look at me!” The bird dips down, out of the shot. 

There’s a scene of them in a forest, Sakura huddled over Deidara. He’s covered in either dirt or soot, looking up at her with exhausted, half-lidded eyes. There are others around, but from the angle, she can’t tell who. “You have to get home,” he says, fingers flitting up to graze her jaw.

“What about you?” Sakura says, bottom lip trembling.

The screen goes black. Deidara heaves a sigh, and says, “Nothing wonderful is meant to last forever. Go. I’ll get myself out of this somehow, but you have to go.”

As the video ends, Sakura groans, “There was no plot exposition! Thanks for nothing, dumb game! At least the last one gave me the tea shop.”

“Are you sure?” Shino asks her, “It looks like you’re fleeing from something, or maybe the cloak is important? They showed it a few times.”

Sakura pauses at that. Itachi was with Deidara as he got the cloak—and Itachi is part of the Akatsuki, the organization trying to capture Naruto. She heads over to the articles, explaining to Shino, “So, pretty sure I’m about to date a hardened criminal, because Itachi murdered his whole family.”

Shino stares at her blankly, waiting for her to explain.

“In the game, sorry, Sai told me that he killed his family and like, fucked off after, I guess. Sasuke’s supposed to go try and kill him.”

“Do you think this guy’s going to try and hurt you?”

“It’s hard to say, without meeting him,” Sakura admits with a yawn, her eyes growing heavy. “Evil organization doesn’t exactly top my dating standards.”

He veers from that, not wanting to ask what exactly were her dating standards, “I think it’ll be okay. You don’t have to feel bad asking me for help, you know.” They pick at his pack of cookies through the morning, chatting, strategizing, until Sakura’s eyes grow heavy and he glances over to see her eyes shut, mouth slightly open as she dozes. He smiles at that, resting his cheek on the crown of her head, settling in to nap.

Ino comes back to the room, peeking in as she opens the door—Sakura hadn’t answered her text, and even though Shino seems like a nice guy, you can never be too sure. She enters, pausing when she sees them both sitting up against the wall, cuddled up on Sakura’s bed. 

Sakura’s wrapped in her comforter, nestled onto Shino’s shoulder, her arms curled up to her chest. Shino’s hands are resting in his lap, his head resting on hers, glasses slightly nudged to the side.

Ino grins, pulling out her phone. She takes a picture of the two of them before she grabs her phone charger and stuffs it into her bag. She ships it, the cuties. 

…

Sakura wakes up in a dimly lit cell, iron bars looming before her. There are a few torches lining the hall, casting their shadows, and Sakura immediately nears the bars to escape the darkness near the back of her cell. There’s no bed, nothing. Her fingers gently grip the bars and she presses her face to them, peering out as best she can. 

“There’s no point in trying to escape,” a quiet voice calls out from down the hall.

Sakura knows that voice—Itachi Uchiha—but she doesn’t know if her character knows him, so she meekly says, “It’s creepy in here.” Taking another glance around the empty cell, she adds, “You could have at least given me a bed.”

“It’s better this way,” Itachi mumbles, slowly walking into view. Is he her guard? How long has she been here? “The Akatsuki has not yet had use for prisoners, so though they’re unfurnished, I imagine they’re better than the alternative.” He approaches her, standing a reasonable distance. Under the torch light, the sharp lines of his face look more angular and frightening than she has ever seen them, but his eyes bare the same calm demeanor he usually possesses.

Sakura humphs softly. Her Itachi is a gentleman—he would never let her sleep on the floor of some damp, creepy dungeon floor. “What’s that supposed to mean?” What’s he planning, this Itachi who killed his family, who ruined virtual Sasuke’s life?

His eyes narrow—she might have missed it, had she not known Itachi her whole life and been thoroughly trained in the Uchiha art of minimalist expressions. “Nothing in particular,” he responds, collected as ever. “The Leader is ensuring that no one treats you untowardly. Are you well enough for something to eat?” 

Sakura assumes that she is newly imprisoned, considering Itachi is bothering to explain no one here intends to hurt her. “Yes, thank you. Can I come?”

Itachi hesitates, surely weighing the odds that she could break out of—well, wherever they have her. “It would not be wise to free you without permission.” 

“Come on,” Sakura whines softly, giving the eyes that work so effectively on him in real life, “please? It’ll be really creepy down here alone.”

“No,” Itachi says, but his fingers reach out to brush hers, wrapped around the cell bars. “You were brought here as a Leaf Kunoichi.” Offhand, it sounds simply like a reason why he couldn’t let her out, but Sakura knows Itachi well enough to take it as a light warning. She needs to smarten up. Wherever she is, her captors expect her to be brave enough to sit in the dark for a while. 

“Alright,” Sakura removes her hands from the bar, half-embarrassed by the gentle touch. Even though she already knows the crimes he’s committed, the man before her reminds her of the real Itachi, with his solemn face and gentle mannerisms. It’s a little disconcerting. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly.

He nods at her and departs down the hallway. 

She expects him to return quickly, but that doesn’t stop her from growing bored. She waits for a few more minutes before she’s desperate for interaction. 

“Sai,” she whispers, and sure enough he appears, clearing his throat to draw her attention from the other side of her cell. Sakura sits, her back leaning against the bars.

“You called?” Sai says, paying no mind to her dire surroundings. 

“Why am I in jail?” Sakura grumbles. “Did evil Itachi catch me?”

“You’re in ‘jail,’” Sai air quotes, “because you were captured by the Akatsuki to lure in Naruto, so they can basically rip out his alternative, demon soul.” He tuts, scuffing his foot along the floor, “And Itachi isn’t evil, he’s complicated.”

“So he’s telling the truth, no one is going to pluck out my eyeballs or whatever?” They’re trying to capture the tailed beasts—held in jinchuriki like Naruto and Gaara—to take over the world and instill world peace via world domination. Not exactly the route ending she’s hoping for.

“A lot of things depend on how you play the route, but the game has no desire to see you tortured.”

“So, obviously Deidara is in the Akatsuki since they’re wearing the same cloak,” Sakura notes, “but is he evil?”

“They’re all com—”

“Complicated,” Sakura rolls her eyes, “right, I got it. So how long am I going to sit in this cell?” 

She notices him peek behind her. “Oh, I’d say not long.”

Sakura glances behind her and sees none other than Deidara from the preview, long hair partially tied up, a sly grin on his lips, standing at the end of the hall where he’d probably assumed she hadn’t yet noticed him. “What’s his deal?”

“Unpause the game and fine out.”

The look on Deidara’s face makes Sakura wonder what he’s up to, so she resumes her spot looking away and gives Sai a nod of dismissal. 

There’s a soft huff from him in response, and he disappears between her blinks.

Sakura stays completely still, wondering what the plan is, when she feels a sudden sharp tug on her hair.

“Ow!” She yelps, turning sharply, jade eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. She comes face-to-face with his bright blue eyes, full of mirth, peering at her through the bars. He looks so pleased with himself that Sakura’s immediately annoyed. “What are you, five?”

He ignores her, his hair falling in front of his left eye as he moves forward to press his forehead to the bars. When Sakura instinctively starts to back away, sliding on the cell floor, his hands dart to catch her sleeves. “Sakura, you don’t have to be scared of me, yeah. I only bite a little.” His voice is just as playful as she remembers the scene from the preview, and Sakura yelps when she feels a sharp pinch where his palms press to her sleeves. 

“Let me go!” Sakura scowls at him. “Itachi will be right back, and he said none of you would touch me.” Not exactly what he said, he actually said no one would treat her untowardly, and he was passing along that their leader had said so—not that Itachi intends to personally protect her. But still, hair pulling was definitely untoward.

“Itachi, Itachi,” Deidara scoffs, “who cares about fucking Itachi?”

A throat clears.

It’s Deidara’s turn to yelp, releasing Sakura with a sheepish grin, “Well, hey there, back so soon?” 

“It may take all three of your brain cells to make a sandwich,” a new voice booms, “but for most people, it’s not a time consuming process.” Two figures step into view—Itachi Uchiha, holding a paper plate loaded with a sandwich and grapes, and a hulking blue man that immediately intimidates Sakura. 

“Do not disturb the girl,” Itachi chides, approaching. He hesitates, deciding how to pass the food in without opening the cell door or spilling the grapes everywhere.

Deidara makes a quick series of hand signs before boldly yanking open the cell door. When the blue man openly stares at him in disbelief, Deidara rolls his eyes, “What Kisame, is pinkie here going to take on three missing nin, or is she going to sit there and eat her sandwich? Honestly, you’re too paranoid.”

Seemingly satisfied with this logic, or perhaps the fact that it had been Deidara and not him to open the door, Itachi hands Sakura the plate of food. 

She accepts with a quiet thank you, bewildered by the dynamic here. She adjusts to sit cross-legged, balancing the plate on her lap. Sakura picks up her sandwich, but her gaze flickers upward at the three grown men all watching her intently. “Do, uh,” Sakura starts awkwardly, “Do any of you want some?”

“Yes,” Deidara answers brightly.

In response, Kisame swats him in the stomach. “No. Don’t let this idiot bully you out of your food.”

None of them take the hint to close the cell door and leave. Sakura inwardly grumbles about how weird they’re being, but she takes a bite anyway—it’s just heavily salted meat and stale bread. Evidently, Itachi’s culinary skills in this world are not equivalent to the real world. Still, Sakura knows an organization bent on world domination doesn’t have to go around feeding her ham sandwiches, so she chokes down the rest politely. At least the grapes are good. 

Once she’s done, Itachi holds his hand out, a silent instruction to give back the plate and stems. She hands it to him, wondering—if her pouting doesn’t work on this Itachi, maybe it’ll work on Deidara? She tests this theory, turning to the other two, “Do I really have to stay in the cell?”

Kisame shifts away, blatantly avoiding the look—Sakura reminds herself to rethink her first impression of him. 

Deidara makes a loud noise of delight, springing forward to yank her up to her feet, “Oh, come on Itachi! Let me keep her.”

“She’s not a pet,” Itachi snips. He isn’t loud, but the tone is sharp enough to send a shiver down Sakura’s spine. 

"I’m not saying she’s a pet, but seriously, look at her cute cherub face—”

“Wh—” Sakura sputters, “Don’t call me a cherub.”

“No one has any fun in here, yeah, let me keep her!” He wraps her up in his arms, ignoring her angry squirming. “Look at her, she’s so cute.”

“Don’t call me cute, either,” Sakura seethes. 

Deidara presses his cheek to her hair, “See? Adorable.”

Kisame is the one to forcibly yank Deidara from her, but Itachi looks equally displeased with the blond’s behavior. His red eyes narrow into a glare—that’s something to get used to in this world, an Itachi with red eyes—that stops Deidara in his tracks. 

Sakura reads the room and takes a few amicable steps backward into her cell. Deidara, she hopes to imply, is the troublemaker here.

Deidara huffs, backing away, and Sakura can see the shimmer of his heart meter as it turns purple. He retreats down the dark hall, presumably out of the dungeon.

Great, Sakura inwardly grumbles. She can hardly call it nice to make his acquaintance.

Kisame gives a curt apology, which Sakura graciously accepts, and Itachi gives only a small nod before the pair locks her inside the cell and leaves her alone.

Sakura sighs softly, leaning against the bars, wishing one of them would come back down here. It’s been so long, when is she going to wake up already? It’s so boring down here, with only the torch light, as she watches the flame gently flicker for her only source of entertainment. She turns to observe her shadow, the angle of the torch casting a silhouette of the bars and Sakura on the cell wall—

Wait a minute.

Sakura squints at her shadow, and her eyes widen when she sees a figure take form behind her. She feels breath on her neck and whirls around, her arms quickly pinned to her side by this new invader. Without even a moment to scream, Sakura and the stranger are sucked into the floor. 

Sakura reemerges, shrieking, kicking her feet with as much infused chakra as her beginner skills can manage. 

“Shh!” The stranger chides her, a pale hand moving to cover her mouth, “Please stop screaming.”

Sakura does not, her screams stifled under his hand.

The strange man—if he’s just a man, Sakura couldn’t be sure, what with the venus flytrap growth emerging from his shoulders and the perfect symmetry of his skin tones—pins her to the wall. “I said, ‘please stop screaming,’ or I will give you something to scream about.”

Sakura quiets at his threat, and the way his voice changed to a frightening husk of itself. The man is split in two, one half pale as paper and the other black as ink, united under a mess of green hair. She must look terrified, because he slowly backs away, his fingertips now only loosely pressed to her lips.

“Quiet, right?” 

Sakura nods in agreement.

“Zetsu,” Deidara whines, “you frightened her.”

The white side of the man’s face shifts, brow knit in worry, “My apologies.” Sakura notes that the black side doesn’t move when he speaks. One of his eyes is what Sakura would describe as a regular—even if it’s yellow—eye, while the other is an orb in his face.

Okay, she trembles, Sai said she’d be out of the cell soon, but what the fuck? She squints for a text box, looking for anything her character might know. It plainly read Zetsu—of course, she knows his name from Deidara shouting it out—and then the box begins to fill with nonsensical symbols. Sakura blinks rapidly, trying to clear the jumble from her mind, “What just happened?”

The man—creature? Glitch?—known as Zetsu offers a smile with half of his face, the half capable of making any expression at all, before admitting, “Deidara offered me a trade, if I stole you out of the dungeon, because the Uchiha was guarding the entrance. I didn’t mean to frighten you but it would not have happened if you weren’t so weak hearted.” 

Sakura blanches, “You popping out of the floor would scare anybody.” She’d been asking what happened with the text box, but Zetsu wouldn’t know the answer. She reminds herself to ask Sai, as things settle down.

Zetsu finally backs off completely, bowing his head to her and shooting a sideways glance at Deidara before phasing into the floor and disappearing completely. 

“So,” Sakura says, her heart still hammering, “he can just… do that, huh?”

Deidara shrugs, approaching Sakura with all the grace of a small boy who’s found an interesting rock in the woods, probing her arms and tugging at her hair, “I mean, he can do it, obviously, but I’ve never met anyone like him. Neat, huh? He eats our dead bodies though—not that I’m saying he’d eat you, but I wouldn’t hang out with him if I were you.” He ruffles her hair, “Pretty little blossom, he’d eat you right up.”

Sakura swats at him, frowning, “Don’t compare me to corpses! And you sure are grabby, aren’t you?!”

“Hey,” he grumbles, “you could at least pay attention to me, yeah? I saved you from the dungeon!”

Sakura focuses on the young man in front of her. He’s petulant, childish, Sakura might even call him a brat. Definitely not someone she would find charming in the real world, weighed down with her responsibilities. “Technically,” she crosses her arms, “Zetsu saved me from the dungeon.”

“Because I bribed him to!” Deidara protests, an arm pressing into the wall to balance him as he leers over Sakura. This close, even if he isn’t the mature type Sakura usually went for, she couldn’t help but be embarrassed. He is a handsome man in her face after all, with well-shaped shoulders and a bright smile and—no, Sakura, focus.

“Hmm,” Sakura replies without much response to his teasing, reaching up to grab a section of his sunny yellow hair and giving it a hard yank. 

“Ow!” Deidara yelps, backing off. “Hey, that hurt!”

“Serves you right,” Sakura sticks out her tongue.

Having bought herself a safe distance, Sakura glances around. “You had Zetsu bring me to your room?” She eyes a relatively small bed tucked into the corner of the room, the rest absolutely flooded with discarded clothes and loose art supplies. She thought perhaps he was smart enough to have tucked away his weapons before snagging her, but really, an Akatsuki agent is into pottery? She notes a large pottery wheel, clay wrapped in plastic and tucked away, smocks littering the floor—there’s even a kiln in the far corner from the bed. Her eyes are drawn back to that small bed, before she levels a glare at Deidara, “Why?”

Deidara has the decency to blush, faltering. “In Iwa, men don’t leave women in cellars while they take a bed, you know. I’m not going to do anything indecent,” regaining his confidence, he matches her glare with his cocky, unfazed grin. “Well, anything indecent you don’t want me to.” 

“Oh, really?” Sakura snorts. “Well, in that case, thanks for the bed, but you’ll be sleeping on the floor. Can’t imagine your boss will be too thrilled with you.” Itachi had mentioned a leader, so there’s someone around this place giving the orders, and surely they’d notice she’s missing. Right?

“Not to worry,” Deidara laughs, as though he’s relaying positive news to her, “Zetsu has a way with the Leader and said he’d put in a good word. As long as you’re here to trade for the Nine Tailed Fox, he won’t care what I do.”

“And you’re not worried I’ll kill you in your sleep?” She is, in Itachi’s words, a Leaf Kunoichi after all. Gaara didn’t rigorously train her so that she could play kitten to some hardened criminal. “Surely, even bastards like you sleep.”

“You wouldn’t make it out of the compound alive,” Deidara moves to rearrange bins of art supplies, tidying up a bit to make the room more spacious. “If you behave, Leader will release you after everything is over. It’s not like you know anything important, or anything about anyone here that won’t be revealed shortly anyway.”

Sakura doubted her odds of surviving were high. She’s already met several of the Akatsuki—wasn’t the point of a secret organization to, well, maintain secrets? Sure, she’s here as bait to capture Naruto—she’d read about the Nine Tails in Konoha’s history, and her character’s written history indicated it’d been sealed in Naruto—but after that, they’d have no use for her. A criminal organization surely wouldn’t let her waltz out of here.

She nearly doubles over as the realization hits her. Duh. The preview for the route is plain as day, now that she has some context. She’s meant to seduce Deidara and escape. 

Sakura huffs at him, heading for the bed. No way, she grumbles to herself, nestling angrily into the blanket. She thinks of Gaara, of his gentle touches and sweet words. No, thank you. She isn’t seducing anybody. Deidara of Iwa can sleep on the fucking floor.

It is, Sakura thinks in the middle of what she assumes is the night since there are no windows, unjustly cold. This game is bullshit and why, why, why can’t she just be cruel to the fictional men? The chill seeps in through the roof, the cold unforgiving. She is warm under the thick blanket, but she can still feel the chill on her face and knows Deidara must be freezing out there. She doesn’t want to feel bad for him.

Still, he’s spread a mat on the floor, and with only his cloak as a makeshift blanket, he’s made no complaints or arguments to share the bed. She knows he’s awake—she’s facing him, and though he faces away from her, she can often see him quietly try to rub his hands together or further bundle himself in the cloak.

“Fine,” she whispers quietly, like Sai is there to judge her for her weak will, “come to bed. But no funny business.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice. He abandons his cloak and makeshift bed mat, lifting the blanket to curl up by Sakura. 

She isn’t sure whether it would be less inappropriate to roll over or continue facing him, but Deidara doesn’t give her the moment to make a choice. He’s already pulled her into a tight embrace, his hands seeping cold through her clothes. 

Sakura makes a noise of discomfort at his icy hands. “Cuddling counts as funny business,” she complains, inwardly cursing this game and the one-bed trope. She tries to push herself off of him, to push herself into the wall as far as she can go and be done with it.

“But you’re warm,” Deidara huffs, scooting after her, his cheek nuzzling into the top of her head. 

Sakura sighs gruffly. She closes her eyes and tries to get some rest—it will be easy, she thinks, if she can just pretend this is Gaara. But she’s wrong. Instead, she falls into a fitful sleep, knowing that while she’s hurt over him, he can’t remember her at all. She isn’t sure if that makes the ache in her chest better or worse.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Two: Deidara of Iwa - Blue Heart

Sakura wakes, embarrassed by her proximity to Shino, and further embarrassed because her roommate is sitting on her own bed and playing on her phone. 

Meeting Sakura’s gaze, Ino shoots her a wink, before she resumes playing on her phone.

Sakura gives an exaggerated stretch and yawn, as though she’d just woken up, and she feels Shino stir beside her in response.

He sits up straight a little too quickly, fixing his glasses and averting his eyes, “Oh, I guess we dozed off.”

Ino stifles a giggle.

Sakura glares sharply at her. 

“I should be going,” Shino slides Sakura the unfinished package of Oreos, flustered, smoothing his clothes as he stands.

“Nonsense,” Ino says cooly, “let’s all get lunch.” Her level gaze matches Sakura’s. 

“Yeah,” Sakura smoothes her hair, trying to prove to her roommate that this is a platonic friendship—they just fell asleep, “lunch sounds good.”

To Ino’s credit, despite several knowing grins throughout lunch and one photograph texted discreetly to Sakura, she said not a single word about them napping all cuddled up. 

Sakura grumbles her annoyance at Ino’s near parental interrogation of poor Shino, who answers all of Ino’s personal questions with his classic composure. He faces everything from his major (earning praise at his early-childhood education answer) to his parents’ careers (two doctors, though Sakura would’ve guessed entomologists because of their bug related abilities in the game). Sakura rolls her eyes at Ino’s prodding, glancing down at her phone, lips pulling into a soft smile at the photo as she saves it.

Sakura, Ino, and Shino go their separate ways after lunch, and his impromptu visit worked—she feels a lot better. She leaves the dining hall, cutting sharply, meaning to head to one of the side buildings in order to print a paper while she’s out. 

She’s never been in this building, and as she swings open the door, a scene in the lobby greets her.

“Shit,” a voice calls out, “shit, it’s slipping!”

Two young men are holding a large, delicate wooden sculpture. The closest to her, the one crying out, sunny blond hair in a sloppy bun, paint smears all over his jacket, is none other than Deidara.

“If you drop my sculpture, I swear to fucking God—” 

Sakura darts forward to help. She hoists the bottom of the sculpture from the middle of the base in an effort to steady the pair, and it works, letting Deidara get a better grip on his end of the sculpture.

“Hey, thanks, my man,” Deidara cheers, peeking over to see Sakura. “Err—” He fumbles, nearly losing his grip once more, “Not a man. Thanks, lady!” 

“Can you focus?” The second man seethes, taking the lead so the three of them can lug the sculpture over to a marked spot in the lobby. As they slowly set it down, he pulls back, and for a brief moment Sakura thinks he’s Gaara—but then, all the subtle differences register: his voice, height, eye color, and the general crankiness of his face. He starts to walk away, scowling.

“Geez, Sasori, you could at least say ‘thank you,’” Deidara calls after him. 

Sasori swirls on his heel, “You almost dropped it, I’m not thanking you for anything. And pink hair over there almost caused you to drop it a second time, so why should I thank her?” 

Deidara turns to Sakura, beaming, “Don’t listen to him, he’s thankful. On the inside. Deep, deep down in there. He’s not used to talking to pretty girls—”

“Idiot, are you coming or what?” Sasori seethes, flushing and turning to march down the hall. He calls back behind him, “Stop saying stupid things!” 

Deidara waves goodbye with a sheepish grin, running off after Sasori.

Sakura absently waves back, bewildered. What an… exhausting duo. She glances to the wooden sculpture that they’d set in its place in the exhibit, the placard plainly reading ‘Eternity.’ The artist isn’t named, but from the context of the conversation, it was clearly the redhead’s piece. She squints at it, figuring out that it’s a scorpion, but clueless as to what that has to do with eternity.

Whatever. She shakes her head, moving on to search for this building’s computer lab. She’d always had trouble connecting with fine art. 

She eventually stumbles across the computer lab and loads up her Gmail account, ready to format and print her paper. 

…

“Who’s Gaara?” Deidara’s voice rouses her in the morning, and he pinches her cheek, “Kind of rude to say another man’s name in bed.”

Sakura flushes, pushing against his chest, “We’re not in bed like that. Plus, you know, why would I tell a kidnapper all about my personal life?”

“I’m not the one who kidnapped you,” he protests, fingers moving up to toy with the ends of her hair—in this route, it’s already short, perhaps because she cut it in the last one? Or perhaps because this route takes place after the Chunin Exam, where she presumably still cut it. 

It feels nice, his hands brushing leisurely through her hair, and Sakura finds her eyelids growing heavy once more. He’s too touchy and immature, but she has to admit, she likes it. Eventually, once she’s fast asleep, his warm hands—warmth he undoubtedly leached from her—find a place against the small of her back and he sleeps with his arms wrapped snugly around her. 

In the morning, she’s distracted by a dilemma—the Akatsuki’s eating habits. “Aren’t you guys major league criminals or something? Don’t you have the money to buy some better looking food?” Sakura gestures to the plate of stale bread and suspicious looking eggs that Deidara is trying to pawn off on her, “I didn’t expect this place to be a five-star hotel or anything, but I’m not sure your scrambled eggs are made of real eggs.”

“They aren’t,” Deidara shrugs, placing the plate in her lap and—for lack of a table in his room—sitting on his bed to pick at the ‘eggs’ on his own plate.

Sakura waits for further explanation, and when none is given, she sighs gruffly and prods the substance with a fork. Whatever, she thinks, how bad can it be?

The answer is very bad. Sakura snatches Deidara’s cup of water to wash down the foul taste, and Deidara chuckles at her floundering. She glares at him, “Why do you guys eat like this?”

“Because Kakuzu is a cheap fuck and trips into town for supplies are dangerous—for all parties involved. Cheaper and easier to keep the fake stuff on hand and add water. Zetsu’s gifted with growing stuff,” he grabs his cup back, flashing her a smile, “or we’d all have scurvy. Oh well, no one joins the Akatsuki for the food.”

Sakura chooses to ignore the bit about the stranger and glitchy Zetsu, instead going for the opportunity clearly presented to her, “So, why did you join?” Diverting the conversation also has the added bonus of ignoring her ‘eggs.’ 

“I was recruited,” Deidara surprises Sakura with an actual answer as he continues to eat his food. “Not that I was up to much good before. I was already a missing nin when they found me, and Itachi challenged me to a battle. If I lost, I would join the Akatsuki, and here I am, so you can guess the outcome.”

Sakura’s a little nervous to venture into it, so she diverts again, “What was it like in Iwa? I’ve never been.”

“It was alright, just another place. I was a Jonin at an early age, a prodigy trained by the Tsuchikage. He wasn’t exactly a fan of me, or my talents, and I’ve been a war orphan since I was young—so when I wanted to leave in pursuit of my art, I left.” Deidara tries to seem nonchalant, but there’s a visible tenseness in his shoulders. 

Sakura isn’t used to seeing the carefree man so serious. She sets her plate to the side, scooching in to bump her shoulder against his, “Do you want to talk about it?” She’s not sure what ‘it’ is—his parents, his pottery, whatever has him so down, she doesn’t like it.

“Nah,” Deidara’s mood perks at her proximity, “war is war. Most of my childhood was pretty boring—training to become a soldier. But then, I discovered my talents, and it was in pursuit of those talents that I left.” His arm snakes around her side, greedily pulling her in until her side is flush with his. Any further and she would be practically in his lap.

Sakura frowns, trying to wriggle away, “I give you an inch and you take a mile.”

Deidara gives her a whiny grunt, pretending he couldn’t keep a hold of her—if Sakura’s being honest, she knows that if he didn’t want her to move, she wouldn’t be moving, so he’s just teasing her. Suddenly, he lets go, her own momentum causing Sakura to flop to the side on his bed.

Sakura grumbles, sitting up, “For someone with such a mature voice, you sure do act like a little brat.”

He huffs, reaching to pinch her cheeks, “Hey, don’t tease me, I’m older than you!” 

Sakura swats his hands away, “Stop that!” 

His hands withdraw, face pulling into a pout, “Sorry, sorry.”

Sakura crosses her arms, looking away to stay annoyed with him, but every furtive peek back over at him wears down her resolve, bit by bit. It’s like stomping on a daisy. She glances over at the pottery and materials scattered across his room, and then back to his grumpy face, “Why don’t you tell me about your art?”

She doesn’t expect it, but the way he looks at her—his eyes bright, his face breaking into an eager smile—sends a flutter through her chest that she doesn’t expect. She has to clench her fists to steady herself, to remember that this is a start to getting back to the first route. Baby steps.

He gets up, vibrant, excited to show her this hidden talent that led him to flee his village and become a missing nin. Sakura is expecting—well, she doesn’t know what, but something fucked up and awful, and she’s trying to figure out how it’s related to the pottery around his room.

He returns with a small ball of clay, and Sakura stares at it expectantly, waiting for something to happen. Just when she looks up to his face for an explanation, she sees a flicker of movement from his palm, drawing her attention. A mouth opens from the center of his skin, tongue pulling in the clay and teeth chewing it. It spits his creation back out and Deidara catches it in his fingers: a small clay bird. 

Sakura studies the bird carefully. He left his village… to literally make pottery? Hand-mouths are certainly weird, but she doesn’t understand the connection. “It’s a lovely sculpture,” she starts, looking up at him, waiting for him to indicate there’s something else going on. Should she mention the hand-mouth? Is he sensitive about it? 

“Just wait, yeah,” he glances over at her, “and scoot back a little.”

She’s surprised at how nervous he looks, and she scoots back on the bed as instructed. She suspects her reaction here is important, though she isn’t sure what to expect. His village gave him a hard time over what appears to be, at least at first glance, a harmless hobby? Were they not allowed to be artistic in Iwa?

Deidara holds up his other hand, making a hand sign, and it crackles in his palm before he tosses the bird up into the air as he completes the release. The bird explodes in a small ball of fire, ashes falling harmlessly to the floor. 

Sakura leans back in her surprise, eyes wide. “Ooh,” she says, amused, “so pretty!”

It’s evidently along the lines of the response he wants, because Deidara gives her a smug grin, “Oh, you like it, huh?”

Sakura has to stifle a chuckle at his blatant fishing for praise. “Yeah, it’s like a little firework,” she comes closer and reaches out to inspect his hand. She grabs his fingers, searching for burns, and when her fingers brush over his palm the mouth opens so a tongue can lap out and brush along her fingertips. Sakura squeaks, dropping his hand and giving a sheepish smile, “That didn’t burn you?”

“Nope,” Deidara leans forward, his arm outstretched, a silent request for her to continue touching him. 

Sakura picks his hand back up, placing it palm upwards in her lap, “Is it some kind of kekkei genkai?” 

“Half-yes, half-no,” his fingers wiggle to mess with her as she prods the mouth, distracted and wondering whether or not he had to floss these teeth. “The explosion release is, but the only tactical advantage to it that I’m aware of is the one I’ve given it in my art. I was young when my parents died, and orphans are shuffled around until they’re in the pipeline of becoming a shinobi, so I don’t have a record of them or any relevant techniques. The hands are from a forbidden technique that I stole from Iwa,” he taps his chest, “there’s one here too. They help me infuse my chakra, so when I use the explosion release, boom. I don’t keep them activated all the time though, unless I’m in a combat situation; they use up a lot of chakra..” 

Sakura hums at that, wondering what good, for example, the Byakuugan would be with no one to teach Hinata or Neji the techniques they used in the Chunin Exam. “So, you invented your own purpose, and formed your own path to follow your passion,” she muses. “In a way, that’s very admirable.” Except for the trying to kill Naruto part.

“It’s a very powerful technique,” Deidara boasts, clearly flattered by her praise, nudging his hand into hers because she’d stopped moving. “Obviously, I wasn’t going to set anything big off in here, but with my chakra-infused clay, I’m capable of making explosions that could blow any village sky-high.” 

So, Sakura quirks a brow at that, that explains why the Akatsuki wanted him. He’s a terrorist then, calling himself an artist. She remembers the preview, the crater that had destroyed a significant portion of the arena and young Deidara’s unapologetic little face. Well, yes, she sees how exploding clay would be seen as unfavorable by a village, and enticing to an organization of villains trying to take over the world. Still, the closer he inches toward her, the pushier he is about her fiddling with his hand, the more she thinks he’d just like some attention and recognition. This thought reminds her of her reading and without thinking too much about it, she says, “You remind me of Naruto.” 

Deidara stifles a laugh, “That’s unfortunate, our intel says he’s an idiot.”

She looks up at him, ready to say something to Naruto’s defense, and his fingers curl around her palm. The other hand comes up, finding hers. His hands are large, easily wrapping around her own. Her protest about Naruto dies in her throat, and she’s about to ask him just what he thinks he’s doing, when her eyes meet his. She flushes when she sees the soft glaze of intent in his blue eyes. 

He leans forward, nose skimming hers, lips pulling up into a sly smile. 

“W-wait,” Sakura gulps, her mouth dry all of a sudden. They haven’t hit blue heart yet, he can’t just skip the friendship stage, right? She says it again, but she closes her eyes, expecting—

“Sakura,” Deidara’s forehead gently bumps hers in a soft scolding, “open your eyes. I’m not going to kiss you if you don’t want me to, yeah.” 

Sakura fumbles, cheeks burning with embarrassment, “I, um, I’m not ready! I was in a breakup recently, and after that, got sucked up in something I thought was serious, but it wasn’t—” Real is the word she doesn’t want to say, but Deidara cuts her off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Deidara chuckles. “Tell you what, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to kiss me anytime you like.” 

Definitely not, Sakura inwardly groans. Her brain is muddled enough. Though, maybe the route would go by faster if she sucked it up and kissed him? But—

He must construe her being lost in thought with something else, because Deidara ruffles her hair, “You don’t have to be scared. I’ll keep you safe, yeah?”

“How can you possibly say that?” Sakura scowls, more annoyed with the situation than with him. “Why wouldn’t you just kill me as soon as you catch Naruto?” 

Deidara furrows his brow at her, lips twisting to match her scowl, “I’m not gonna kill you.” 

“It’s a group ‘you,’ as in ‘you, the Akatsuki,” Sakura clarifies.

“Dummy,” he shifts back, visibly relieved to spread her doubt around to the other members, “I won’t let them kill you either. Leader will let me keep you.” 

Sakura’s already seen the preview, but even without it, she would doubt it. “This still ends with Naruto dying. He’s my friend,” she remembers her story, reaffirming, “no, he’s practically family. I don’t want Naruto hurt, and I want to go home.”

Perhaps hoping to reassure her, Deidara quips, “Well, you said I’m like him. I could be family instead. Here could be home.” His face falls at her stern expression.

“Naruto is Naruto,” Sakura huffs, irritated and shifting to turn away from him, “and you’re you. It’s not the same thing.” What, is she supposed to live in this room and that’s it? No, thank you. Join the Akatsuki and hunt down Gaara? Double no, thank you. 

“Sorry, but,” he admits, reaching up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, “I don’t really understand the difference.” When she doesn’t turn back toward him, he sighs gruffly, ready to sit in awkward silence if that’s her plan. 

Deidara doesn’t last the hour, fidgeting, bored, and wanting to talk to Sakura some more. He’d never had a close bond with another person, not like she clearly had—there are people he respected, people he hated, but no one in particular that he thought couldn’t be replaced as a person. He’s wanted to apologize and clear the air several times, mouth opening and closing as he tries to figure out what to say. Once he finally has an idea, he darts up, hoisting his pottery wheel into the center of the room.

Sakura peeks over, curious, but averting her eyes whenever he looks at her. Once, he catches her watching him set it up, and pointedly turns away with a huff.

Deidara stills, frowning, and runs a hand through the hair falling over the left side of his face, “Hey, I was an ass, yeah?”

Sakura snorts, turning sharply, “Wh—What kind of apology is that?!” 

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

Sakura rises from the bed, moving over to tug on his ear, making fun of him, “‘Hey, I was an ass, yeah?’ Yeah! You were!”

He grumbles, but he lets her yank his ear, “Obviously you’re mad, but I don’t get why you’re mad!”

“Because,” Sakura groans, frustrated, “you’re not interchangeable! Not you, or Naruto!” Or Gaara, she mentally adds—They’re all different people. If they weren’t, it wouldn’t feel like she lost someone, right? “It’s like… what if I told you that you might as well replace your exploding clay with ice sculptures? They’re similar, that doesn’t mean they’re the same, and you care about your art, don’t you?”

He stiffens, thinking that over, and once Sakura releases his ear he offers a thin smile, “Alright, I get that. But the mission is the mission, Sakura, and you can’t stop the Leader’s plans any more than I can.”

Sakura stares at him blankly, trying to make sense of that, absolutely sure that he specifically will be foiling the Leader’s plans via dashing off with her on a giant bird thing—a clay bomb? She hopes not, but Sakura supposes she can’t be picky. 

“Hey,” Deidara pokes her temple, “why are you making that face, huh? C’mere.”

Sakura wrinkles her nose, swatting his hand away, “C’mere for what?”

“Grumpy,” Deidara teases her, grabbing her arm and pulling her off the bed. “Come on, Sakura, make some art with me.”

Sakura glances at the pottery wheel, at Deidara, and at the wheel again. If he didn’t look so earnest about it, have that contraption set up in the middle of the room, and practically just vowed to not jump her bones unless she initiated—well, she would’ve assumed that he was making a move on her. “You mean… literal art, right?”

It’s Deidara’s turn to stare blankly, “That’s right”

“Oh, but,” Sakura looks at the wheel, grimacing, “I’m not really the creative type. I’ve never tried anything like that before.”

“Heh,” he grabs a wad of clay, “good, then you’re going to learn from the best!” 

Sakura gives in at that, taking a seat in front of the pottery wheel, “Well, alright, how can I say no to that?” 

After a lengthy demonstration and a pep talk about overcoming the texture of wet clay, something Sakura’s never experienced in her life, she’s trying to make a cup. 

Deidara hovers over her shoulders, sometimes giving advice but mostly distracting her. He’d taken to toying with her hair mostly, but when he’s unsatisfied with how her cup is turning out, he prods her in the side and causes her to mess up so that she’d have to start over.

“Knock that off,” Sakura seethes, her clay smushed from his latest jab into her ribs. “How many times do you think I’m going to restart it?!”

Deidara sits behind her, resting his head on her shoulder, “But you have to get your lines right, yeah! Wouldn’t be a very good teacher if I let you make something substandard.”

Sakura’s eyebrow twitches. Isn’t he the one who made her do this? Who is he to be all picky about it? “You raise my blood pressure.”

Deidara chuckles at that, his hands reaching around from behind her to cover her own, “Here, I’ll show you. You need gentle pressure and steady hands.”

Sakura squeaks at the contact, flushing bright red, her heart lodged in her throat. This is fine. It isn’t romantic. He’s just a pushy, invasive person who clearly doesn’t believe in personal space. Still, without his cloak—which is discarded sloppily on the floor, where he left it after last night—she can’t help but notice his toned, tan arms around her and the feel of his chest against her back. She focuses on his hands, pressing hers into the wet clay and nudging her fingers to sculpt it as it spins. 

With Deidara’s help, Sakura starts to form her base at the center of the wheel, significantly straighter than her solo attempts. He guides her hands upward, and shows her how to create the opening inside the cup, as Sakura marvels at the way it changed right before her eyes. Finally, it is done—close enough to looking good for Deidara to accept it from a beginner, but still a pretty ugly cup. “Okay,” Deidara says, shifting back, holding his dirty hands in the air to avoid accidentally touching anything, “we’ll toss that bad boy in the kiln and then when it’s done, we’ll see if you can blow it up. If not, smashing it will have to do.”

“Wh—” Sakura balks, “Don’t you dare blow up my cup, we worked really hard on it!” Sakura scrambles to her feet, glaring at him.

Deidara’s hand darts up like he wants to pat her on the head, but he stops short just as she prepares to duck out of the way, remembering his hands aren’t clean, “But you have to destroy it when it’s done.” He walks to the other side of the room, dunking his hands in a bucket of water and scrubbing them off, before adding sheepishly, “That’s what makes it art, yeah!”

Sakura follows his lead, scrubbing her hands as he puts her project in the kiln for her. “Not all art explodes,” she protests, “and besides that, what if I’d like to use the cup?”

“The best art is impermanent, don’t you agree? Art is an explosion.”

“No!” Sakura snaps, but then she has to think about it. She assumes he means impermanent in the very short term, like his quick-flash explosions. She hums, trying to decide how she feels about that as she dries her hands, “I don’t think that’s what makes it art, let alone the best art.”

His face drops, clearly displeased, but he lets her explain.

“I’m not very artistic,” Sakura says, eyeing the kiln, “but I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with creating art that’s useful. I do think that saying anything is the ‘best’ art kind of defeats the subjectivity of it, you know? To me, it’s the way I felt about making it that makes something art, and if you know, you know. The frustration and time that went into making that cup, the sentimentality of making it with you, that makes it art to me already. I don’t want to break it.”

Deidara stares at her, face still stern, but considering, “So you’re saying that how I feel about the explosions is more relevant than the explosion itself.”

“Yes, I think so,” Sakura says, bashfully. “Not exactly my area of expertise, but please don’t break the cup. I’d like to keep it.” She’s not used to him looking so serious about anything, but clearly art is his favorite subject, so she shouldn’t be surprised if he gets a little impatient at having to explain—

“Okay,” he approaches her, face still stern, tapping her on the nose, “I won’t break it. We can blow up my art instead.” 

“Oh,” Sakura smiles, pleasantly surprised, “thanks, Deidara.”

He breaks into a grin, greedily wrapping his arms around her, “Besides, how can I disagree when you said it’s special because we made it together? Adorable.”

Sakura squeaks, thrashing in her embarrassment, “That’s not exactly what I said, you—”

“Mhmm,” he nuzzles into her neck, “I heard you loud and clear, we can make more cups later if you’d like.”

Sakura, who would very much not like to watch as Deidara sabotages her clay because ‘the linework isn’t inspiring,’ so she politely declines, “How about another time? I’d really like a shower, and then maybe later I can watch you detonate your little figurines instead.”

No response.

“...Deidara?”

“I’ll bring a basin in here for you to bathe.”

Sakura pulls back at that, “You guys don’t have a bathroom I can use? You lug in a washbasin every time?”

“Well, no,” Deidara admits, “but it’s communal, and Hidan is going to sense that there’s a woman here. Besides Konan. But I don’t want any of the guys to harass you, yeah.”

Sakura inwardly rolls her eyes, because Deidara’s harassed her more than anyone in this game world. “Oh, uh, then thanks.” Hidan and Konan—two more people Sakura doesn’t know.

He returns a short time later, lugging a large metal wash bin full of water, and Sakura can sense the warmth of his chakra concentrated in his hands and forearms to lug it into the room. 

Sakura thanks him—she didn’t have much in the way of clean clothes, as being kidnapped tends to do, but Deidara was more than forthcoming with anything in his closet. She winds up with a black shirt and a long pair of pajama pants that would be far too big, but she could use a hair band of his to knot the side and tighten them. It wouldn’t be particularly flattering in the meantime, but at least she could wash her clothes in the basin after she was done.

“I’ll, um—I’ll be outside,” Deidara flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s soap in this bag, or I have razors if you need—not that it matters whether or not—” He shakes his head, “I’m making it weird, the black bag has toiletries in it, use whatever you need. I’ll bug Kakuzu for a toothbrush for you after dinner.”

Sakura almost jokes that she’ll just use his, but he looks so flustered that she thinks he might agree, so she shoots him a smile, picks up the bag, and starts to rifle through it. As he leaves, she prepares to take her bath—the water is lukewarm at best, but settling into the basin, she can’t help but let out a groan of relief at the prospect of being clean.

The soap smells earthy, maybe a hint of pine—not the sweet, fruity scents she’s used to, but not bad. It smells like Deidara, always throwing his arms around her, pulling her in to sleep—Sakura angrily scrubs behind her ears, frustrated. Alright, she gets it, she finds him charming. Fine. She has to cozy up to him to beat the route, so that’s not the worst thing in the world, right?

“Sai,” she calls out, wanting to complain to someone, and then her eyes widen with instant regret. She shrieks when he appears, sinking down into the basin, “Don’t look!”

“Don’t look at what?” He asks flatly.

Sakura considers throwing the soap at him in her rage, but restrains herself, “I’m naked, turn around!”

“You’re the one who called me here,” he huffs, turning away from her and crossing his arms.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Sakura says sheepishly, arms covering her chest out of habit. “I forgot you’re a person.” 

“But I’m not, I’m computer code,” Sai reminds her. “And as your guide, I’m always running in the background anyway. I assure you, I have no desire to see you naked.”

“Just,” Sakura presses her hand to her temple and closes her eyes in frustration, “Nevermind! I’ll talk to you later.” When she opens her eyes, he’s long gone, and she doesn’t have the chance to see the red dusting his cheeks.

Sakura stands after she finishes her bath, doing her best not to slosh the water and stepping gingerly out of the basin. Her other foot catches, however, and she lets out a sharp yelp as she topples over and brings the basin down with her. 

The door opens sharply in response to her scream, Deidara bursting into the room on high alert. “What’s wrong?!” He shouts, his best guess that Zetsu has phased in uninvited, only to stiffen sharply when he sees a naked, drenched Sakura sprawled out on his flooded floor. 

They both stare at each other blankly, too shocked to say anything until Deidara’s hands fly up to cover his eyes. The soapy water spreads over his floor, flooding the room.

“Oh no,” he cries out, face beet red as he fumbles blindly for the door. “I’m sorry, Sakura,” he yelps as he flees the room, “please forgive me!” 

The door closes behind him.

Sakura stares blankly at the door before she breaks into delightful, bellyaching laughter—the kind she hasn’t truly known for a long, long time. His heart meter, she marvels as tears spring in her eyes, was bright blue. 

She wheezes, staggering to her feet and fumbling for the clothes she’d laid out on his bed. She dresses, the bottoms of his pants dragging in the layer of water—she tries to roll them up, but they’re so big, it does little good—and as she throws on his shirt she thinks of his severe, battle-ready expression melting into boyish embarrassment and smiles fondly. “Yikes,” she splashes her foot in the water, “what a mess you’re making, Sakura.”

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Two: Deidara of Iwa - Green Heart

Deidara doesn’t return until dinner, holding a plate of a meatloaf of mysterious origin, rice, and an orange—not the nicest combination, but she’s hungry and exhausted from trying to clean his sopping wet floor, so she can’t be too picky.

She takes the plate from him, and when he meets her gaze, he pointedly averts his eyes, face flushed. Sakura stifles a laugh, sitting on the bed to eat, “You don’t have to act like you didn’t realize I have boobs until you saw me naked, Deidara.”

“Of course I knew you—” he flounders, settling with his own plate, picking at the food with a scowl, “Don’t say something embarrassing like that.”

Sakura nudges him with her elbow, “Oh, so I’m embarrassing now? I guess that means there’ll be no forced cuddling now that you realize I’m an actual human woman, and not a body pillow.”

He sets his plate aside, reaching to pinch her cheek, “I already said that I wouldn’t try anything, right? So quit teasing me.”

Sakura grumpily rubs the spot he’d pinched, “Alright, sorry.”

Almost petulantly, he clarifies, “So I can still sleep in the bed?”

“Of course. Your floor is all gross now.”

“And—” Deidara falters, not sure how to word his question.

“And I’ll be a human body pillow, if that’s what you’re asking.”

It evidently was, because Deidara quickly starts picking at his food again, but his grumpiness is forced and Sakura can see that he’s barely containing a smile.

A sharp knock on the door breaks the comfortable silence as they eat. “Deidara-senpai!” A high-pitched voice calls out—a child? Here, in the Akatsuki base? “Can I come in?”

“No,” Deidara shouts, face full of displeasure. “Fuck off!”

She’s surprised when it’s not a child that enters, but rather a fully grown man, dressed in all black except the bright orange mask that hid his face. Still, there’s something familiar about that voice, and when Sakura realizes, she blurts out, “Uncle Obito?” That’s it, that’s the name—she recognizes the voice from him poking fun at Itachi, Sasuke, and herself. 

There’s a pregnant pause, and then Sakura’s world is pain and fire and then nothing at all.

She blinks awake to a sharp knock on the door, her arms setting her plate down on autopilot. “Deidara-senpai!” A high pitched voice calls out, “Can I come in?”

“No,” Deidara shouts, face full of displeasure. “Fuck off!”

Sakura squints. This—this just happened, right? Sakura realizes what the pain was—she died, Obito killed her, and so she must have respawned to the moment right before she did the dumb thing. But what was it she said? That he’s an uncle? Is that not true here?

Obito enters. This time, Sakura says nothing to him.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Tobi?” Deidara sneers at him.

“Leader-sama says you can’t hog Sakura all to yourself!” Obito crosses his arms and stomps his foot like a child. “He’s called for a meeting with her, so follow Tobi and let’s go!” 

Huh. So, third person, the mask, the alternate name—Obito Uchiha, or Uncle Obito as she knew him fondly, obviously doesn’t go by that name in this world. But why? Sakura gets up, still in Deidara’s disheveled pajamas. Well, Tobi he wants, Tobi he gets. 

Deidara gets up as well, grumbling about how pointless the meetings are. 

“Ah, ah!” Tobi tuts, wagging a gloved finger in Deidara’s face, “A meeting with only Sakura!”

Deidara starts to protest, but Tobi yanks Sakura by the wrist up and out of the room as though she weighs nothing at all.

Sakura has a strong suspicion that Tobi is antagonizing Deidara on purpose, not that he’s behaving as his character naturally does. For starters, his real voice is different, not the pretend voice he uses to goof off with the children, and every character she’s met so far corresponds to their real voice. Of course, the murder. He wouldn’t have killed her if his real name, and she’d bet personality, was known information. Then, he implied it’s a general meeting before chiding Deidara and taking her—so yes, he’s trying to piss off Deidara, but why?

“So,” Sakura can’t help but glare at him a little, considering he killed her a few minutes ago, even if this particular Tobi didn’t know it, “what’s your Leader like?”

Tobi doesn’t skip a beat, “Leader is a God among shinobi, Sakura! You will be very honored to meet him.” 

“And what’s the meeting about?”

“Tobi doesn’t know!” He answers quickly enough for Sakura to assume he’s lying. 

“Any chance he’s had a change of heart and is sending me home?” She drawls sarcastically and, in response, his hand tightens around her wrist.

Sakura has, as expected, no such luck. The Akatsuki leader is a man named Pain—he’s definitely eccentric looking, with orange hair and eyes full of dark rings. She focuses for a text box, wondering if she knows anything about him. ‘ Pain: It’s complicated.’ She sends a silent, sarcastic ‘thank you’ to Sai. 

Pain gives a speech on the state of the shinobi world that Sakura is somewhat listening to, more lost in the fact that there’s a literal office with a desk and everything in the Akatsuki base. At one point, she counts the piercings in his face, wondering why in the world a shinobi would have so many visible spots begging to be ripped out in a fight. He slowly broaches subjects more relevant to Sakura—control of the Jinchuuriki, the impending capture of Naruto, and then finally he gets to the fate of one impatient Sakura Haruno. It’s not a particularly good fate, but it’s hardly unexpected. Once Naruto is captured and relieved of the fox spirit, she would be disposed of painlessly and without further suffering. As much as she appreciates the sentiment—Sakura is not particularly fond of pain, or in this case Pain—if death here is just a restart, surely she can’t just accept it or she’ll never progress.

“Is there really no purpose I can serve here?” Sakura starts, hastily adding, “Your, uh, Your Excellency?”

Pain stares at her blankly.

“Your Honor?” Sakura tries again, withering under his stare, “Your Highness?” If Deidara was here, Sakura inwardly grumbles, he would have spoken up in her defense. This is just an assumption, of course, considering the path the route is meant to take, but the idea makes her feel better. 

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Haruno,” Pain responds, his voice a low rumble. “I have cast my judgement, it is only courteous to inform you of my decision. I have been informed Deidara wishes to keep you for the time being, and until we have the Nine-Tailed Fox, he may continue to do so.”

Sakura flushes, angry, embarrassed. So he’d called her here to say Deidara can keep her, if he likes, until her expiration date? Well thanks, she’d figured out that much on her own. 

As if sensing her dissatisfaction, a wave of chakra washes over the room—a powerful, stifling reminder that Sakura has no hope of taking this person on. She inhales sharply, finding her mettle. Well, not yet, fucker. But she’ll get there, she’ll get tougher every route. 

Tobi has barely led her out of the meeting room and around the corner before Deidara snatches her into his embrace, shifting to tuck her behind him as he glares at Tobi.

Tobi is more than eager to announce Sakura’s impending fate to Deidara, who curls his arms around Sakura protectively. 

“Whatever,” Deidara snaps, clearly agitated, “there’s plenty of time for him to change his mind.”

“Of course,” Tobi turns to dart down the hall, making his exit as he exclaims, “I’m sure Leader will change his mind!”

Having met the man, Sakura felt it more unlikely than she had previously, but she’s certain Tobi knew that when he made the comment. 

Once Tobi is out of sight, Deidara rests his cheek on the top of her head, “It’s going to be okay, Sakura.”

“I mean,” Sakura says, “it isn’t. He seemed pretty sure to me. Considered it a courtesy to let me know.”

He ushers her down the hall, hand on the small of her back, “With your disappearance, the Jinchuuriki will be heavily guarded in Konoha. That buys plenty of time before his capture, because they’ll need to put together a retrieval team for you—”

“If they even send one,” Sakura quips, trying to get a good look at his face, but he’s avoiding her, “and if the Akatsuki doesn’t kill them, leaving me stuck here.”

“There’s no way the Hokage is stupid enough to allow Naruto to come,” Deidara elaborates, “so that’s plenty of time for me to convince Leader that you should say.” They arrive back at his room, Deidara practically pushing her inside and closing the door behind him. 

Sakura whirls around, annoyed, “We both know that Naruto is going to rampage right into the lion’s den, and the Akatsuki will either kill him or they’ll fail. And let’s be honest, there’s an awful lot of you here for Naruto and I both to not wind up dead at the end of this.”

Deidara winces at her use of the group ‘you,’ lumped together once more with the Akatsuki ready to kill her at a moment’s notice. Under his calm exterior, panic is visible: eyes distant, fists clenched a little too tight, easy smile a little too forced. “It’s going to be okay, yeah,” he says firmly. 

Sakura huffs, turning to the side, and she notices he’d glazed her mug for her while she was gone. Perhaps irrationally, this makes her more angry. “You can’t just say things will work out until they magically do,” she snaps, storming off to bed. “And even if I’m not dead the minute Naruto’s captured, this place isn’t my home.”

The tension in the room is palpable, Sakura grumpily curled up in bed and trying to sleep as Deidara paces around the room, chaotically tidying up—Sakura assumes to postpone coming to bed, where she is giving him the cold shoulder. Several hours go by of this stalemate, Sakura staring pointedly at the wall as Deidara rifles around the room. 

Just as she’s ready to give up and shove down her annoyance at the lack of progress in the route—she hit the friendship already and she’s still in this damn room—she yelps as she’s scooped up out of bed, comforter and all. 

“Deidara?” Sakura asks, legs flailing against the blanket, but she’s cocooned despite her struggling.

The look on his face—somber, stern, blue eyes narrow and no hint of his usual easy going smile—gives her pause.

“Deidara?” Sakura whispers, almost afraid to earn a response.

Deidara shifts, positioning her in his arms, a bag slung over his shoulder, “I’m taking you home. This isn’t your home, so we’re going, yeah?” He waits for an affirmative response, looking at her, brows knit, “Say yes, Sakura.”

Sakura’s about to protest—not the outcome, but the method, because what use is she as a human burrito?—but the look he gives her quiets the words in her throat. He looks determined, mouth pulled into a taut line, but Sakura also thinks he looks a little sad—to leave the Akatsuki, maybe? “Yes. Okay, let’s go,” she accepts her current position, bundled up in his arms as he heads down the hallway. She knows he must be an excellent shinobi, to be worthy of joining the Akatsuki, but she’s still surprised at the difference between the clingy Deidara she knows and the one that moves as silently as a shadow through the halls. 

Perhaps the Akatsuki are not all home, or perhaps their defenses are lowered as they rest and prepare for the upcoming battle, or perhaps their escape comes to fruition merely because the game says it must. Either way, Deidara makes quick work of leaving. At the end of an inconspicuous looking hallway, one that at least to Sakura looks exactly like all the others, he shifts her back into the cradle of his arms so that he can make hand signs. The wall begins to shift, like it’s morphing into liquid, and Deidara passes them through it like it was never there at all.

Outside it’s freezing. Now Sakura understands the blanket burrito, and she doesn’t protest when Deidara repositions her so her face is pressed against his chest, shielded from the wind as he takes off in a brisk run. She expects them to stop shortly, so that Sakura can run on her own—wait, she realizes, she’s not wearing shoes. Is he planning to carry her all the way? 

As he runs, Sakura feels guilty and bored—and guilty for being bored, since Deidara is the one suffering in the cold—but eventually, she grows restless in her cocoon. “Deidara,” she calls out, muffled against his cloak, “are you really okay still carrying me?”

“What are you talking about?” She can feel his face press into the top of her head through the blanket as he says, “You’re tiny. We’re almost to the gorge, and from there we can fly, but for now it’ll be faster for me to just carry you.”

Fly? Sakura remembers the clay bird from the previews. She’s not exactly a big fan of heights, but she assumes she doesn’t have a choice. From what she understands about the Akatsuki, they’re in trouble as soon as they notice she’s missing, which may have already happened by now. Deidara ran them this far, presumably to avoid detection for as long as possible. Did it work? Even if the Akatsuki weren’t expecting them to flee, wouldn’t there be some sort of alarm? Do the mighty villains of the Akatsuki really just come and go as they please? But Deidara would know the answers better than she would, and if the giant clay bird was a better option right now, he hasn’t chosen to use it.

The gorge is an impasse on foot. When they reach it, and Deidara gently sets her on the ground to begin his creation, she can’t help but marvel at the graphics of the game. The gorge spans on as far as the eye can see, the massive cliff faces sparkling under a sheet of snow and ice. Pine trees dot the landscape, evergreens frosted, tall and unbending all the way to the horizon behind her. Sakura has never traveled to the mountains, not in the real world or in the game, and it’s breathtaking. The cold is bitter on her face, and luckily her feet are still wrapped as she stands in her bundle of blanket, but she quickly misses being nestled up against Deidara. She can only imagine that in the air, the wind will be insufferable. 

Deidara’s hands spit out large sections of clay as he works, molding a bird large enough to carry both of them—not too large, he explains to Sakura as he works, because the bird takes  a lot of chakra to maintain already. 

Now she understands why they ran a great distance before building the bird—making this close to the base would have certainly gotten them caught, not to mention the chakra it takes to fly it, so he waited until they absolutely needed the bird. 

Soon he is done, heaving Sakura onto the back of the bird and then mounting himself. He takes a seat, pulling Sakura between his legs and pressing her face to his chest to shield her once more from the wind. 

“Get in the blanket,” Sakura protests—she’d seen him, face worn red, hands shaking from the cold. 

“I need to be ready to fight,” Deidara shakes his head, and with a pulse of his chakra the bird takes off. One of his hands steadies Sakura as the bird soards up in the sky.

It is evident to Sakura that the bird is responding to his chakra, not some kind of steering that he necessarily needs his hands for, so as soon as they’re stable in the air she begins to stubbornly wriggle out of the wrappings. 

Deidara starts to chastise her, but Sakura silences him with a glare.

“Dummy,” she says, shivering as soon as she’s exposed to the wind, “if you freeze, you’re not fighting anybody.” 

Deidara responds by yanking her flush into him, begrudgingly wrapping the blanket around them both. He ducks his head as far as he dares so that he can still see, covering Sakura completely and nuzzling his face into her hair. Though his hands are in the blanket now, holding it in place around them both, Sakura can feel his arms at her side and they’re cold as ice. “Dummy,” he says into her hair, “the blanket was for you. I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

“So am I,” Sakura protests. 

Deidara chuckles at her, “Let’s settle on you being reckless and self-sacrificing.” 

Sakura is tempted to point out that if anyone’s reckless and self-sacrificing here, it’s him—after all, she didn’t betray a group of merciless powerhouses to try and save some girl he just met. She doesn’t want him to change his mind on that issue, so she huffs and firmly presses into him, curling up to try and regain the warmth that she’d lost. 

Deidara’s arms circle around her, “I’m going to get you home, okay?”

“But…” Sakura starts, not sure how to ask why he’d do this for her.

“You went through a breakup, and thought a rebound was serious when it wasn’t,” he says, fingers trailing along her spine. “That’s what you said. But I’m serious. I’m going to get you home, and I know what’ll happen if the Akatsuki or the Leaf catch me, so you have to do what I say, yeah?”

Sakura feels a knot of guilt in her stomach. She’s been in such a rush to return to Gaara, justifying it in that this is all a game, and she’s treated this route like a stepping stone. Yes, it is a game, but Deidara doesn’t know that. Sakura’s just a girl that he’s putting his life on the line for. “Deidara,” she finally asks, “why are you doing this?”

That earns a soft laugh from him, like he himself isn’t even sure, but he says, “Because, I invent my own purpose, remember?” She can feel his face break into a grin, “I follow my passion, right? Well, that’s you. Even if it’s not so much ‘following’ this time around.” 

Sakura flushes, burying her head into his chest, her arms gripping his cloak.

They fly for a long time, long enough that Sakura can’t imagine anyone can catch up on foot, especially having had to make a dangerous trek either across or around the gorge. She stays settled on Deidara’s chest, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing as his chin rests on the crown of her head. Finally, finally, Deidara warns her of their descent and he lands the bird near a large outcrop of cliffs. 

He helps her off of the bird, directly toward—well, she wouldn’t call it a cave as much as a deep indent in the rock. The bird stays put, basically a statue without his chakra seeping into it, and Deidara departs the warmth of Sakura’s blanket cocoon despite her soft noise of protest.

“Get some rest,” he instructs, ruffling her hair, “and stay warm. I’m going to find food—it will be dark soon, so whatever you do, don’t leave the cave.”

Sakura can’t, in good conscience, let him go without saying something, even if she was starving by this point. “You look exhausted,” she says, shuffling toward him, “how much chakra did you use to get us this far?”

He cups her cheek, “Don’t worry about me, yeah?”

Before she can say anything else, he’s off, disappearing between the evergreens. Don’t worry, he says. Sakura scoffs. She could see it in his face, in the windburn on his cheeks and the dark circles of chakra exhaustion. They left late into the night, and traveled until nearly sunset. He’s clearly spent. Sakura thinks of her time in the Forest of Death—is she really so ill prepared to survive, even after everything, that Deidara would assume she can’t even forage for food? 

Not that she can blame him—all he’s seen of her is a pink haired kunoichi, captured and cozied up to him in his room. She climbs into the indent, the blanket wrapped snugly around her, and waits for him to come back. She sits, and sits, and slowly the sun dips below the tree line and she’s submerged in darkness. 

…

Sakura Haruno has avoided college parties no more. This decree, made by Ino, has loomed over Sakura all day as she read a chapter for class and begrudgingly got ready to go out later that night to a bonfire hosted on the estate of some upperclassmen—Ino couldn’t remember their name.

So that’s how she wound up in a red flannel and jeans, hair in a messy ponytail, drunk off her ass and playing party hide-and-seek with one equally intoxicated Itachi Uchiha. This is her first time playing party hide-and-seek, but the rules are relatively simple: one person, Itachi in the role of the seeker, is looking for her around the party and the other, Sakura, is dodging and weaving through crowded rooms to avoid said seeker. 

Sakura curses her luck, regretting the several Jell-O shots she’d taken before noticing the Uchiha at the party, and wobbles onto the back deck with all the grace of a baby deer. It’s a little selfish to avoid him—Sasuke had already told her that he and Itachi weren’t speaking, and knowing him, that’s devastating to Itachi—but she isn’t in the right headspace for the serious conversation it would certainly be. She wonders where Ino has wandered off to—the blonde was responsible for securing their designated driver, and Sakura’s ready to go home. 

Spotting a blonde ponytail in the distance, right on the fringe of the property and near the pool house—off limits for the party. Assuming it’s Ino, sneaking off to make out with a man she’d had her eye on for the entirety of the party, Sakura marches forward to disrupt her good time.

The head of blonde hair disappears, and Sakura wanders next to the pool house, searching, calling out, “Ino-o-o, we need to go home! ‘Tachi is here!” When she receives no response, scanning the woods nearby, she calls out again and again. She tries to peek in the window, but blinds are drawn, so she stumbles around the side looking for a door.

Sakura is distracted as she rounds the side of the pool house, looking out over the large pool, lights turned down to discourage party guests from wandering over this way and jumping into the water. She finds the pool house door, knocking sharply on it, “Ino, are you in there? I saw you come over this way, get his phone number or whatever and let’s go-o-o!” 

When no one answers, Sakura sighs gruffly, trying to peek in through the closest window. This one didn’t have the blinds drawn, but it’s dark inside. Oh, she muses, hands pressed to the window, maybe she’s not in there after all. But where did she go? Sakura swears she just saw that giant, blonde ponytail—

Light flashes up in the air, behind her, crackling with a thunderous boom as it explodes in the night sky—a firework, lit off from somewhere far behind her, way on the other side of the pool, followed by another, and another, and another. 

Sakura has no time to marvel at their beauty, however, because the fireworks give off enough light for Sakura to see inside the pool house window. It’s—Sakura takes a sharp few steps back, a shriek ripping free from her throat before she can stop herself.

There’s a severed arm on the table. 

Her foot catches, she’s gone too far backward in her panic, and she loses her balance at the edge of the pool. She stumbles, falling back, hitting the cold water. She kicks her legs, trying to get her bearings and ascend to the surface, but the more she flails sooner her lungs burn for air. She does come up, once, mouth breaching only to suck in a gulp of half-chlorinated water and half-air before going back under, her hands pawing violently in the water to get her back up. As she goes down, she thinks she hears someone curse.

She can feel the ripples throughout the water of someone jumping in after her, but in the dark, it takes them too long to find her. Sakura loses consciousness before a pair of arms latch onto her in the water, dragging her up to the surface. 

…

Sakura wishes she could start a fire. Even huddled in the mass of the blanket, she’s cold, so cold. The knowledge nags at the back of her brain that she could start a fire, if she wants, but that’s not a wise move for two shinobi being hunted. Without Deidara here, she definitely can’t risk it. She knows the cold must be worse for Deidara, out there in the harsh wind, hunting for food, so she sucks it up and waits.

The further into the night she gets, the more she worries for him. Finally, she hears the shuffle of someone approaching. Sakura stands, her legs wobbly from sitting bundled up to try and keep them warm, and calls out, “Deidara?”

“Sakura,” Deidara calls back, voice strained.

Sakura moves forward on autopilot, abandoning the blanket to dart in his direction. She finds him at the mouth of their small indent, relying on the rock wall for support. She can’t see him, but when her fumbling hands grab hold of his cloak, she can tell something’s very wrong. “Are you hurt?”

“Caught in a bear trap,” Deidara admits, laughing bitterly. “It got my leg pretty good. I didn’t think anyone would be hunting this far from the closest village, but I wasn’t being careful enough.” He raises his hand, stubbornly clutching the spoils of his hunt as though Sakura could see the carcass, “But I still found food.”

“Food?” Sakura wedges herself under his arm, “Deidara, you’re injured. Let’s get you inside.”

He doesn’t protest, relying on her so he can finally ease the pressure off his wounded leg.

Sakura props him against the wall at the back of their indent. It’s just as dark, but at least he’s out of the wind. Her hands part his cloak and gingerly brush along his left leg until she finds where the metal teeth of the trap have pierced his leg. How he walked back here on it is beyond her—the determination and mettle she sees in this world often surprises her. 

He lets out a yelp when she touches it, his voice after a soft whimper, “Ah, that hurts pretty bad, yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” Sakura says, unsure what to do, and then she remembers her reading for this chapter. “I could try… medical ninjutsu?” 

“That’s right, you trained under one of the Sanin, Lady Tsunade,” Deidara murmurs. “Leader—Er, Pain had said so before the Uchiha and the shark were sent to snag you from your mission.”

Sakura almost asks who that is, blanking on the name, but she chalks it up to someone she’s supposed to know. She’s preoccupied worrying about Deidara, trying to recall the medical information she read up on. As her hands hover around the trap, trying to decide what to do, she’s alarmed when a resounding alarm echoes around her and announces, “MINI GAME.”

“Sakura,” Sai greets her pleasantly from somewhere in the darkness. “Brr.”

She glares in what she hopes is the direction of Sai’s voice, “Can you please explain the rules so I can help Deidara?”

“Have you ever played Operation?” 

“The game?” Sakura says, and the disbelief must be evident in her voice because Sai scoffs at her.

“What, Dance-Dance-Revolution against Lee and Whack-a-mole against Ino are fine, but you draw the line at Operation?” As if on cue, a ring appears around the joint of the trap. Deidara had clearly broken most of the contraption in an attempt to keep walking, and these metal jaws sinking into his leg were all that’s left. 

“So I just don’t touch the ring while I remove the joint?”

“Correct, but if you take too long, the ring gets smaller.”

In the neon of the game’s ring, she can see Deidara’s face, expression paused for her mini game. The pain she sees makes her square her shoulders, hands at the ready, and say, “Cha.”

The ring begins to shimmer and Sakura works at the joint of the trap, trying to pry it open without letting her arms touch the outside of the circle. Sure enough, it starts to shrink, closing in on her as she works. Sakura inhales sharply, and with one final yank, the joint splits and the metal jaws fall limply to the ground. 

A text box flashes before her in reward, the hand signs clearly labeled: rat, ram, dog. They’re all signs that he was familiar with from her reading, but she’s never put them together, and has no idea what jutsu is being called for.

“Go ahead,” Sai urges her. “When the text box gives you a recipe like this, it’s a freebie. You’ll have actual medical training at another point. Had you failed the mini game, the jutsu would’ve failed.”

Sakura squints at him, eyeing his slim smile critically, but she complies and makes the hand signs. Sure enough, a glowing ball of chakra forms in her open palms, bright white in the darkness. She glances over to Sai, but he’s gone, and when she looks back to her hands she can see Deidara’s awestruck expression in the light. She presses the orb of chakra into his leg, equally surprised as Deidara when the wounds in his leg begin to stitch themselves closed. Riding the momentum, she moves her hands up, fingers gingerly touching the windburn on his cheeks. She can see what she already suspected in the newly green glow of his heart meter. As the glow of her chakra fades, his skin heals, and she sees the wonder in his eyes before they’re enveloped in darkness once more. 

“Wow,” she can practically hear the smile in his voice, “look at you go.”

Neither of them realize Sakura’s crying until she looks up at him and sniffles, tears rolling down her cheeks, her voice breaking when she speaks, “You almost—What if you didn’t come back?”

“Hey,” Deidara sits forward, reaching to pull her into him, “no, no, don’t do that, yeah. I’m right as rain. C’mere.”

Sakura allows him to wipe her tears with the sleeve of his cloak, and then she positions herself to sit in his lap, her head resting on his collarbone. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Deidara chuckles, fondly tucking her hair behind one of her ears. “You’re the one who healed me.”

And how could she not feel attached to this man who was hurt for her, who saved her when he could’ve easily looked the other way, who worries about her crying when a minute ago he sat there with a wounded leg? 

So when Deidara’s hands envelop hers and he starts to complain, “Sakura, get the blanket, you’re cold,” she responds with the first way that comes to mind. She sits up, the tip of her nose touching his. She can hear his breath hitch. 

“Sakura,” Deidara weakly protests, “no funny business.”

“‘I’m serious,’” Sakura intertwines their fingers, “that’s what you said to me. I’m serious, too. Thank you, Deidara. You saved my life, at the risk of your own. As a missing nin, you continue to risk it to bring me to Konoha. I’ll advocate for you, you know. I’ll tell them all about how you saved my life.”

“Technically, we’re still in the process of saving your life,” Deidara makes a soft noise, distracted by Sakura’s lips so close to his own. “And while I’m sure your family will be thrilled, I can’t imagine Konoha will be very receptive of me, yeah.”

“I’ll convince them,” Sakura says with a determination she isn’t entirely sure she can back up, but damn, Deidara is saving her—and by extension, hopefully Naruto’s—life which ultimately foils the Akatsuki’s whole mission and if the village would really reject him after all that, well, that would be pretty fucked up. “You can be family too, you know.”

“Yeah?” Deidara says absently, and they’re so close Sakura can feel the movement graze against her lips. 

Sakura smiles at his familiar little saying. “Yeah,” she responds, before kissing him softly. 

His grip on her hands tightens and he meets her kiss eagerly, trying to deepen it, his tongue darting out to surprise her into giving a little squeak and opening her mouth. He shifts his knees up, gravity doing the work of pulling Sakura forward, further into him.

Sakura yelps as she falls, giggling into their kisses, her hands jolting free to steady herself on his shoulders. “Watch it,” she playfully scolds between kisses.

His hands skim her—his, but hers at the moment—shirt, down to her hips and up again, dipping underneath the hem to roam up her sides. He suddenly pulls back, “You’re freezing. Let’s find that blanket, then.”

…

Sakura coughs sharply, sputtering awake, heaving lungfuls of water right onto her savior. She sucks in desperate gulps of air, her chest heaving, and the other person backs away to give her space.

“Idiot,” his voice seethes as he scrambles for the phone he’d discarded before leaping in to save her. He shines the flashlight in her face, “You have a deathwish or something? What’s your name?”

Sakura squints at the harsh light, and as she recognizes the voice, she weakly blurts out, “Sasori?”

“That’s my name,” he corrects her, fingers grabbing for her chin as he leans in to examine her pupils, “I asked for yours.”

Sakura blinks lethargically, and he must be happy with whatever her pupils do, because he pulls back. “I’m Sakura Haruno.” She starts to fully come to, relieved when he pulls the phone light away from her face. 

“Alright, pink hair, do you know where you are?”

“Uh,” Sakura says, taking a glance around, “a house party, but I don’t know who owns it. Ino brought me here. That’s who I was looking for, to go home.”

“It’s my house—well, I rent it from my parents. Does your chest hurt?” When she shakes her head, he goes on, “I’ll get you in the pool house and I’ll make sure we find your friend.”

Sakura gasps sharply. “Oh my god, the arm.”

Sasori is quiet for a moment, “Elaborate.”

“I saw an arm in the pool house, that’s why I fell in the water.” Realization hits her, and she tries to scramble away from him, “Wait, this is your house?! So what’s with the fucking arm?!”

He’s quiet for another moment, before snorting sharply. 

Sakura pauses—Why’s he laughing? It’s not evil, you caught me, and now I have to kill you laughter, either. 

“It’s not a real arm, dumbass,” Sasori says, clearly choking down his laughter. “It’s for a puppet.” 

Sakura stares into the dark blankly, “Like… a wood arm, for a wood puppet? And not some disturbed collection of body parts to build the perfect woman?”

“A wood arm, for a wood puppet, for a University production of Pinocchio.” 

“Oh.” She actually had heard of casting for that coming up. “Any chance this isn’t embarrassing and you actually are a serial killer, so I didn’t almost drown because I saw a stupid prop in the window?”

“I mean, I worked really hard on it, if that makes you feel better,” Sasori says flatly. “Let’s go, so I can call Konan to find your friend.” He leads her inside, and Sakura sheepishly follows, taking a seat on a small loveseat as he flips on the light.

Sure enough, a clearly wooden arm sits on the table, half-assembled. Sakura flushes. “It, uh, looked real in the light of the fireworks.”

“I’m sure the alcohol played no part in that,” Sasori says snidely, pressing his phone to his ear as he calls this Konan person and explains the situation: one Sakura Haruno needs one Ino to come get her drunk butt and get her home—maybe to a hospital if her condition worsens in any way, but she seems fine, just shaken up.

Sakura twiddles her thumbs, waiting for him to get off the phone, looking around at the mass of pool supplies and floats shoved into the corner and the section with the table, surrounded with a few small woodworking tools. When he hangs up, she asks, “Is this your shop?”

“Sort of, I do most of my work at school—” He pauses, “Oh wait, you’re that girl that helped carry my project.”

Sakura nearly sputters. He didn’t recognize her? How many pink haired girls does he know? Well, soaking wet and fished out of his pool in the dark, she probably wasn’t recognizable. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I guess we’re even then.”

Sakura rolls her eyes, “Definitely not, I saved your sculpture and you saved my life.”

“Same difference.”

Sakura’s eye twitches, “I’m not sure if you’re saying your sculpture is worth a human life, or my life is worth that of a sculpture.” Sakura realizes that she tastes like mint, and she touches her lips gingerly with the realization, “Did you...?”

“Did I save your life by blowing air into your lungs and performing CPR after you fell in my pool? Yes.” He runs a hand through his red hair, looking frustrated with her, “Did I kiss you? No. I’m not wasting my first kiss on some drunk idiot who won’t even remember it.” 

Sakura leans back in the chair, bluntly announcing, “You can have one when I’m sober then.”

Sasori sputters, before snapping at her, “Wh-what the hell are you saying that so casually for?! Don’t offer something like that when you’re drunk.”

Sakura shrugs, kicking her feet up on the small loveseat, “Whatever, if you don’t want it, don’t claim it later then, but consider it a reward.” 

Sasori rolls his eyes at her, “I think I’m good, drunk girl.”

“Ouch, my self esteem.”

Sasori takes a seat at the table, fiddling with his phone, “Okay, well what do you think the offer of a pity kiss does to my self esteem?” 

“It’s not a pity kiss!” Sakura scoffs, “You’re good looking, and you saved my life! It’s on the table, but if you’re going to be rude about it, then I’ll rescind—”

There’s a knock at the pool house door, and then a sharp crack as it busts open to reveal a party of three: a belligerent Ino Yamanaka with her foot still raised from the kick, an equally blitzed Itachi Uchiha with a busted lip, and blue haired woman who looked ready to chuck them both in the woods.

“Sakura,” Ino cheers, fists at her hips in a power pose, “I found Sasuke and beat his ass for you!” 

“For the last time,” the blue haired woman seethes, “that’s the wrong Uchiha.”

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Two: Deidara of Iwa - Yellow Heart

Ino is, and always has been, a force of nature. There was little she did half-heartedly, from befriending Sakura at a young age to her relentless pursuit of their mutual crush, and even when she’s wrong—well, her confidence could almost convince everyone she was right. So when she waltzes across the pool house like she owns the place and drapes herself over Sakura, boldly announcing, “Now that I’ve found you, wanna do shots?”

Sakura’s brain says no, but her heart says yes, and she’s always been the type of girl to follow her heart.

“No,” Konan answers before Sakura can respond. “I’m here to mother hen you now. No more shots, water only.”

“Konan,” Sasori gestures to the two girls and Itachi, flatly asking, “what the fuck?”

“Don’t ask me,” Konan shrugs. “I found the girl you asked me to find—and she’d just punched Itachi in his pretty, pretty face. But when I said Sakura was hurt and needed to go home, Itachi insisted on coming too.”

“What happened?” Itachi takes a hesitant step forward, gaze drifting between Sakura and Sasori.

“Sakura got drunk and fell into the pool looking for Ino. I had to drag her out and give her CPR, and then I called you.”

“CPR?” Itachi asks, brows raised. “Sakura, are you alright?” 

“I’m okay, ‘Tachi,” Sakura admits sheepishly. “I was avoiding you, honestly, and got into a bad situation. Sorry Ino hit you.” Sakura taps Ino on the forehead, “Hey, you hear me? You can’t go around hitting people.” 

“Even Sasuke?” Ino whines.

“Even Sasuke,” Sakura clarifies, “but to be clear, the person you punched was Itachi, his older brother.” 

Ino huffs grumpily, snuggling into her lap, “Oops.” 

Sakura blanches, looking up at him, “I’ll make sure you get an actual apology when she’s sober. Are you alright?”

Itachi nods, “She came up angry, asking how I could do ‘that’ to you, and I didn’t realize she mistook me for someone else until I apologized. And then she said, ‘too little, too late Sasuke, you vagabond fuck.’ Don’t know what that meant, but,” he blinks groggily, “I’ve had a lot to drink.”

Sakura feels guilty, since Itachi is being a lot nicer about it than he needs to be, and she scooches over to force Ino up and to make room on the loveseat. “C’mere, sit down.” She looks over to Konan with a soft wince, “Would you two mind giving us a minute? Please?” 

Konan and Sasori share a glance, before Konan brightens, “Wait, that’s—” She turns to Sakura, yanking Sasori up from his chair, “Of course, honey, take your time.” She practically drags a grumbling Sasori out of the pool house, leaving the three of them: Sakura and Itachi, overdue for a heart-to-heart conversation, and Ino, humming as she starts to fiddle with Sakura’s wet ponytail. 

“If I don’t bring up Sasuke again, will you stop avoiding me? I want to talk to you about it, but you...” Itachi takes a seat, pushing back a few stray strands of hair from his forehead, “What if Sasori hadn’t found you in time?” 

Sakura sighs, resting her head on his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Itachi. That must’ve been scary to hear happened. I do miss you.”

“You do?” 

“Of course. And the whole family.” Sakura nudges him, “Tell you what, you can still talk about Sasuke, and I’ll stop avoiding you, but only if you give me the snickerdoodles next time your mom drops them off in a care package.”

“And you’ll be more careful when you’re drinking,” Itachi says, too drunk to be stern.

“Deal. I want to know why you guys are fighting and I’m not in the right headspace right now. You guys never fight. Is it about me? It better not be.” Sakura yawns, ready to be home.

“The short version is that I found out Sasuke’s cheating was my fault, and we fought about that.”

Sakura doesn’t register that for a moment, Ino lazily drawling as she braids Sakura’s ponytail, “Why, because you fucked him?”

Sakura chokes on her saliva, sitting up sharply, “Ino!”  

“Wha-a-at?” Ino grumbles, studying the braid—it’s not her best work, so she undoes it, “nobody makes Sasuke do dumb stuff ‘sides Sasuke. And since Sasuke cheated on you, then he must be stu-u-upid, so how is that this guy’s fault unless he fucked him?”

Itachi stifles a chuckle, “It’s… complicated.”

Sakura inwardly curses Sai for ruining a relatively normal phrase for her, but at least whatever he had to say couldn’t be as bad as murdering the whole family. “It can’t be that complicated.”

Itachi hums softly, considering that, “Izumi and I broke up at the beginning of the school year.”

“What?” Sakura gawks unable to think of something coherent to say, “What?” But he and Izumi had been together since the summer after high school—everyone in the family referred to her as an Uchiha already, because they expected an engagement as soon as they graduated college.

“I found out she later spoke to Sasuke about it, which resulted in an argument between all three of us, and Sasuke went out and did something stupid—which he confessed to that night.” Itachi fiddles with his hands, “I’m not saying that what he did was right, I know he hurt you, but it was a mistake… and it’s all my fault. This is all a big mistake.”

Sakura is floored at that, reaching to set her hand on top of his, “Itachi, listen to me, that’s not your fault. What Sasuke chooses to go and do when he’s mad is not your fault.”  

“Yeah,” Ino chimes merrily, “Sasuke’s a big boy and he can deal with his choices.”

With her other hand, Sakura gently pats Ino on the arm, “Yes, thank you, sweetheart.” She clears her throat, “Besides, tonight’s incident aside, I’m actually doing pretty well. I’m in clubs, and I’ve made a lot of new friends in college. It’s kind of nice to not have to worry about dating, and honestly, I don’t know that Sasuke and I were a great fit for each other. No matter what happened between you that led to him doing something so fucked up, it’s still on him. He made a choice.” Well, she’s a little worried about dating, because she must worry about it every time she’s asleep—but not real dating, at least.

Itachi hesitates, before smiling in relief. “Alright.”

“And what about you, are you doing okay after your breakup?”    

“Yes,” he admits, “Izumi and I weren’t a great fit either. That was... part of the reason she broke up with me.”

That surprises Sakura, because Izumi had always seemed so into him, even reminding her of her giant crush on Sasuke before they dated—oh, well, she guesses that’s part of the problem. She stops herself from rolling her eyes, only because he’s already upset at the situation—but come on, what’s with the Uchihas and their one sided romances? She holds up a closed fist amicably, “From one dumpee to another, friends again?”

Eagerly, he taps his knuckles to hers, “friends again.”

“Okay, good,” Sakura stands on wobbly legs. “Alright, I gotta get Ino home. Long day, and I reek of chlorine.”

Itachi blinks at her, like he hadn’t noticed. When she wobbles a bit more, he darts up to steady her.

“Thanks,” Sakura says, helping a daydreaming Ino to her feet. She has to admit, she missed the big-brotherly side of Itachi. If she’s being honest, she misses something about all of the Uchihas—even certain things about Sasuke, if she was being honest. 

Wait.

Sakura blinks away the thought, remembering their last negative interaction. Sasuke is… difficult. Stressful. 

“Sa-ku-ra,” Ino coos, wrapping her arms around Sakura’s shoulders, “has anyone told you lately that you’re so pretty? Because you are so pretty.” She looks in Itachi’s direction, huffing sharply, “She’s too good for you, Uchiha.”

Itachi winces, rubbing the back of his neck, and goes to open the door for them both, “That’s true.”

“Sorry,” Sakura pinches Ino’s cheek, who whines sharply, “she must still think you’re Sasuke.”

“It’s fine,” he shakes his head, looking for his friends, “Konan, Sasori, are both of you sober? Could one of you take them back to the dorms?” 

The pair, who had been waiting and playing on their phones, both look up. Konan shoots Sasori a look, “Come on, we both know I have to go baby Nagato and Yahiko. What am I, everybody’s mom?” 

“Yes,” Sasori replies dryly.

Konan flicks him in the forehead, “Go! We both know you don’t drink.”

Sasori grumbles, rubbing the spot on his forehead, “Whatever. Tell Deidara to stop lighting off fireworks on my property. If he blows his hand off, I don’t want to be liable.” 

So Sasori loads two drunk girls into his car, Itachi getting in the passenger seat, and he gruffly sits behind the wheel. “Alright, which dorm?” 

“Wait,” Ino exclaims, nuzzling into Sakura’s shoulder and letting out an exaggerated yawn before she goes on, “we should go to Taco Bell.”

“Absolutely not.”

Ino gasps softly, “Sakura, tell him we should go. I’ll buy you a quesadilla.”

Sakura laughs at that—as though what she wants carries any weight here, “I mean, I did almost drown. A quesadilla would really cheer me up.”

There’s silence from the front seat, before begrudging agreement, “Fine, but no eating in my car.”

Ino and Sakura give an enthusiastic cheer, and Sakura gets comfortable, watching the city’s lights rush by outside as they drive. Soon, her eyes grow heavy, her forehead resting against the window, and she dozes off. 

…

Deidara wraps Sakura securely in the blanket, nestling her next to the bag he’d packed, “I’m gonna see if I can cook that rabbit, but I can’t use explosion release in here.”

Sakura grumbles a half-hearted protest, but if something is going to hurt Deidara right outside the cave, it’s just as likely to get them in here—and she can’t deny that she’s starving. 

He’s gone a short while, the noises of skinning the pelt and prepping the meat evident even in the dark. He works quickly, presumably experienced with hunting his meals. 

A missing nin would have to be, she supposes. Sakura still lets out an audible gasp when the explosion goes off outdoors, a good distance from their nook, even though she’d expected it. 

Deidara returns, teeth chattering, holding a bundle of cloth with extremely charred chunks of meat inside that Sakura accepts with relish. “Not exactly five star,” he says sheepishly, curling into the blanket with her, “but it should be edible.”

Sakura understands that having an actual fire in the cave is probably dangerous itself with the smoke, let alone the risk it poses of them being discovered, but at least the cloth bundle is warm in her hands. Despite the burnt smell, Sakura is salivating, but she waits until the meat has cooled enough to not burn her before she takes a bite—it’s tough, dry, terribly charred, but it fills her with warmth. “Thank you,” Sakura says quietly, her eyelids heavy as she relaxes into Deidara.

“You’re welcome,” he hums softly, shifting to try and make his shoulder more comfortable for her. When the meat is finally gone, she’s pleasantly surprised to find Deidara pulling her into his arms.

He wraps his cloak around them both, and then the blanket, and Sakura soon finds herself delightfully toasty despite the howl of the wind outside. He spoons her, one arm at his side and the other snug around her waist. They start to doze off, content, full, warm.

“Well, well,” a voice resounds from the entrance of their little hideout. “Sure, you were the most likely to run off for a little action Deidara, but I must admit that I’m surprised you let your guard down so quickly.” 

Sakura’s breath hitches, the pain in her ribs sharp as Deidara yanks her up and behind him. His cloak and the blanket fall around them, and Sakura is too alarmed to register the cold. 

“Sasori,” Deidara greets him through gritted teeth, and Sakura wishes she could see so she had even an inkling of the threat that awaited them—well, he must be an Akatsuki member, who else would know him? Sure, she’s met real world Sasori—from what she can remember of her drunken night with Ino—but that does little to help her in a world of exploding clay and sentient sand. 

“Leader’s orders were pretty specific.” There is a slither in the dark, the grating sound of a large underbelly skimming the rocks. “Kill you and bring back the girl.” He’s quiet for a moment, before he tsks sharply, “But suffering, no, he didn’t specify anything about that.” 

Sakura quivers in fear, trying to tell herself that everything is going to be fine. This is a game, she’s the protagonist, this is Deidara’s route—and even if she dies, it’s just a quick game over, and then reset. 

Deidara seethes, “Don’t you fucking touch her.” 

Sasori huffs, before letting out a breathy chuckle. “Funny, the Uchiha said not to hurt her too. Granted, I didn’t meet her, but she can’t be that charming. Have a little pride. I’m just here to take her off your hands.”

Something whirrs through the air, lodging itself in the rock wall behind her, and Sakura has no time to wonder what it was before she’s pulled sharply to the side. She’s searching for any hint in the dark, and it’s that searching, her pupils wide open and looking for light, that sends her brain reeling when a blast lights up their cave. 

Deidara wraps his arms around her, pulling her in one fluid motion outside in order to protect them both—the frigid air finally registers and, enveloped in darkness again, Sakura is left seeing only spots.

He’s just started to load Sakura onto the bird when she’s hit from the side, flung into the dirt with a wheeze.

Sakura scrambles to her feet as quickly as she can. The thing that had hit her, maybe the size of a thick pipe, hadn’t pierced her but pain radiates from the spot. She can hear Deidara call out for her, but when she tries to respond, nothing comes out except a wet wheeze. 

It’s enough to draw another attack, Sasori slamming a kick into her knee with enough force to send blistering pain shooting up her body. Sharp pinpricks flood her body in the aftermath, pain rolling in waves as she falls helplessly to the ground, and Jesus Christ she would take instant death over this any day.

Her vision goes blurry and she notices, amidst the terrible pain as she stays collapsed in the dirt, that she could see and that meant the sun has started to rise.    

The half-dark haze is enough for Deidara to aim confidently, now that he and Sakura were separated, without inadvertently hurting her. His eyes linger on her too long between bouts with Sasori—a monster bundled under the familiar Akatsuki cloak, certainly not the grouchy redhead she knows—and Sakura sees Deidara mouthing at her to get up-get up-get up. No, she realizes through the buzzing in her ears, ringing from the series of explosions meant to kill Sasori. He’s screaming it at her. 

She notices his bag swinging from his shoulder, cloak pouring out from the top. When had he found time to grab it? 

He clearly favors one side trying to protect it, and Sasori takes advantage, a blade swinging and ripping a large gash in his shirt.

She uses her hands to shove herself to her feet. It’s one movement at a time, and her left knee shrieks its protest. Sakura wobbles precariously, favoring her right foot, but she knows that’s no way to fight. She squares her stance, white hot pain shooting up her body. Everything fucking hurts. But she thinks of her last route, of Gaara who needed her when she was injured, of Rock Lee who stood unconscious and ready to fight until the end, of her teammates unconscious and in need of her protection, and of Deidara who needs her now. 

Sasori takes the opportunity, lunging for her again, narrowly avoiding a series of small explosions and darting right for her.

Sakura can feel the move before she makes it, all of her instincts on red alert, saying that if she doesn’t blow the field right now then they’re done for. Sakura knows she doesn’t stand a chance right now in a head on fistfight—not with him, and especially not injured. She winds up, her fist clenched, and the pain is replaced with a surge of pure, raw power as she slams her fist into the ground.

The pain is back. The pain is back and it is white hot, hot, hot.

Sakura doesn’t register at first that she is flying. Her eyes blink open and all she can see, and thank God for bright daylight because she fucking missed sight, is the tense square of Deidara’s jaw above her. She’s positioned, head in his lap, most of her wrapped messily in his cloak, and behind her she can hear rapid explosions. Her gaze flickers to the side, where she watches the mouth in one of his palms erratically chew and spit out balls of clay. They look, she thinks absently, like tiny spiders—and then they’re gone, flitting off into the wind behind them. 

He must have felt her stirr, because his other hand gingerly brushes his fingers along her forehead. “I’ve got you,” he shouts to her, above the roaring of the wind. A series of loud blasts goes off behind them. “It’s going to be okay, yeah. Just look at me.”

She does, watching his tense jaw with gentle fondness. “Okay,” she says, her voice raspy, and for the first time she notices the tang of what must be blood in her mouth. How badly is she injured? 

Deidara’s hair whips wildly in the wind, and Sakura watches, mesmerized. She suspects, but she’d keep it to herself, that little ‘yeah’ appears mostly when he’s nervous. Did that mean Sasori could also fly? Or were they still relatively low to the ground because Deidara lacked the chakra to gain altitude? Was he still the only one after them, or had others caught up while she was unconscious? 

But the explosions stop, and she can feel Deidara shift behind her, searching. 

“What happened?” Sakura calls out, “Did you get him?”

Deidara leans forward, “We crossed borders into the Land of Wind. They’ll be on us shortly, which will draw attention to Sasori, and the Akatsuki isn’t ready for a major strike on a shinobi village yet.”

The Land of Wind, Sakura muses, her brain foggy. That sure sounds familiar.

“The Sand shinobi will be here soon,” Deidara continues. “I’m sure they’ve noticed the giant bird in the sky, and Sasori wouldn’t dare venture into his homeland unless he’s prepped for a serious confrontation. Leader—Pain wouldn’t approve that so carelessly.”

“The Sand shinobi,” Sakura repeats absently, before realization hits her like a sack of bricks. Gaara. Okay, Kankuro and Temari too, but more importantly, her previous love interest.

“Konohagakure and Sunagakure are close allies now,” Deidara explains. “And the new Kazekage has a vested interest in protecting the Jinchuuriki, so I don’t expect we’ll be turned away when I show up with you in tow. More importantly, they’ll get you to a medic.” 

“No,” Sakura starts, sitting, and pain shoots through her sharply. She shudders with the force of it, and Deidara repositions to pull her back to his chest and grip her tightly. 

“Be careful, yeah,” Deidara chastises.

“Aren’t they going to hurt you?” Sakura protests, resting on him.

Deidara hums, eyes half lidded, “I expect them to try.” 

“Then we shouldn’t risk it, we should find shelter and keep going for Konoha.”

Deidara chuckles and rests his chin in her hair, “We need to get you into a hospital, so play nicey-nice.”

“Deidara—” 

“Don’t ask me to watch you die out here.” She feels his arms drift downward, his hands settling at the crooks of her elbows. They’re both quiet for a moment, before he continues, his voice low enough that she could barely hear it over the wind, “He almost had you, yeah.” 

“But he didn’t,” Sakura blinks rapidly to dissuade tears she can feel coming on. “And you don’t get to stick your neck out. You don’t get to ask me to watch you die either. I’m staying with you, which means Suna isn’t going to fucking touch you, or Naruto will flip a lid when he finds out they didn’t help me. Because if they kill you, I won’t let them help me, I’ll hobble out into the desert and die.”

Deidara snorts, and Sakura can feel the breath of his stifled laughter, “No dying. I’ll say deal if you say deal.”

“Deal.” 

“Deal,” he says, and she can practically feel him smiling behind her. “There’s that stubbornness and dramatic flair that punches giant craters into the ground, huh? Didn’t know you could do that, by the way.”

Me neither, Sakura wants to say, but she settles on, “I’m full of surprises.” 

“Do tell.”

Sakura huffs, a cheeky smile spreading on her face, “Most of them are for when my leg isn’t busted.”

Deidara senses the shinobi before Sakura spots any of them, his eyes focused on a spot in the distance.

The Sand shinobi find the pair before the rocky landscape comes close to giving way to the vast Suna desert Gaara had described to Sakura, curled up, talking about—Focus, she reminds herself bitterly. That Gaara is gone.

It’s a team of Chunin out this far on a regular patrol, who obviously noticed a giant bird in the sky. None of them recognized the Akatsuki swirls wrapped around Sakura at first glance, but the telltale sign of a slash on Deidara’s forehead protector is enough of an indication that they’re dealing with a missing nin.

But when Deidara nudges Sakura up—the Leaf symbol on her headband intact, his arms wrapped protectively around her—to explain, “She needs help. She’s a Leaf Kunoichi who’s been injured and can’t walk,” Sakura can see the indecision flicker across their faces.

Well, they seem to think at each other, eyes narrow and brows raised. Well, well, maybe? Konoha is an ally, but Iwa certainly isn’t—but if he’s a missing nin from Iwa, helping a Konoha girl, well, well, does that make him friend or foe? And then one of them recognizes her, “Wait a minute, pink hair; you’re Sakura Haruno!” The mood shifts to positive. Oh, wow, the Hokage sure is in a tizzy over her, scrolls came frequently and they reported back they haven’t seen her, but now they have, and surely the Kazekage would be thrilled to send good news to their closest political ally. With caution, of course, and if they tried anything funny, there would be dire consequences. 

Deidara, to his credit, kept quiet that he was a member of the infamous Akatsuki and could probably level their city if that was the reason he came.

Sakura is inwardly skeptical. The last Kazekage she saw was really Orochimaru, a madman, in disguise. So who was the new Kazekage here, if the events in Konoha didn’t happen? But if they were letting Deidara come, and letting them both stay on the bird with a Chunin escort headed full speed toward Sunagakure to get her fixed up—well, Sakura is in no position to be turning down small miracles.

Deidara holds her firmly the entire trip, the bird flying low over the land as rocky soil gave way to dunes of sand as far as the eye could see. Every so often, perhaps out of his own nervousness, his hands move to tuck stray wisps of hair behind her ears. 

She catches his hand on one of these occasions, placing a sneaky kiss on his fingers, “Your nail polish is chipping.”

“Forgot to pack it in all the excitement,” Deidara’s fingers eagerly grab her hand, holding her in his palm, his long fingers wrapping delicately around her own.

“Hmm,” Sakura enjoys the warm feeling in her chest as his thumb traces over her skin, “I do like a man with confidence. I suppose I owe you a favor, or two, or three and I’ll buy you some new nail polish.” 

The city of Suna, a place she wondered if she would get to see in her last route, began to rise in the far distance. Tall walls loom over the endless desert, armor against the constant wind and—provided real world logic held true over this virtual desert—sandstorms.

They are greeted at the gate by more curious shinobi, Deidara dutifully landing the bird at the gate while the Chunin explain their find. Sakura is propped against the gate wall, standing on her good leg, the Akatsuki cloak wrapped loosely around her to protect her from the sun. The conversation is long, several superiors called, until a face emerges that sends her heart pounding furiously.

She’s about to call him by name, until she notices the top of his head is covered with a familiar hat. She blinks, slowly processing the scene before her; Gaara does become the Kazekage, even without her. She bolsters with pride, and her joy must’ve been evident on her face, because Gaara looks at her and gives her a small smile.

“Sakura Haruno,” Gaara says, giving her a soft nod, “it has been a long time. It’s good to see you are well.”

Sakura’s at a loss for what to say, “L-Lord Kazekage,” she fumbles, not sure how to address him, “you as well.”

“Please,” Gaara shifts his gaze down to the cloak she’s loosely wearing, “Gaara is fine. I’m sure your village will be thrilled to hear you are safe and sound. When we received reports that you were taken by the Akatsuki from your mission, this was certainly not the expected circumstance of your hopeful return.”

“Deidara rescued me,” Sakura says quickly, eager for her chance to vouch for his intentions. By the way the Chunin weren’t reacting, information about the Akatsuki was clearly not well known, but Gaara’s guards are on alert. “He helped me escape to bring me home, but we were attacked and I was injured, so Deidara brought me here in the hope of receiving aid.”

Gaara gives a weighted look to Deidara, who smiles sheepishly. “You will have my aid,” he says, “of course. But I expect your escort to be forthcoming with any pertinent information.”

“Absolutely,” Deidara says without hesitation, and it’s in this moment she notices his heart meter is now bright yellow.

Sakura is happy—happy to know Deidara is saving her because he genuinely cares, and happy that even without her the men will probably be okay, right? After all, Gaara hated his home, and now he held the most coveted position as their leader. Then, she’s a little sad. She wants him to still be happy, but when their time together flashes through her mind, she wishes she could have been there to help him. Sakura is hit with the certainty that her time with Deidara will end too, and he will be back in the Akatsuki base. Gaara, at least, has still obviously met her as a baseline of the game’s plot. Would that be true for Deidara? What would he be doing right now, if not for her?

Deidara moves to her side, pulling her hand up and around his shoulder for support. He looks back to Gaara, “But can we get her to a hospital first, yeah?”

Sakura, still emotional and thinking about how she will only be with Deidara for so long before losing him like she lost Gaara, leans on him heavily. He takes the hint, picking her up in his arms bridal style, and she wraps her arms around his neck in an exhausted embrace. She thought she could speed through this route, and the next, and the next, and the next, all to get back to Gaara’s route so she can continue feeling loved—but Deidara loves her too, well not officially yet, but with every increase of his heart meter building toward a confession it is only a matter of time. And then another route will be over. 

“Of course. Kankuro, please lead our guests.”

Another face she recognizes. As they follow Kankuro through the streets of Suna, Sakura watching to see exactly how Gaara lives, she inwardly notes that while Kankuro had her on the face paint—a ton of people here wore it—nobody else is wearing a cat suit.

Several Jonin have obviously been ordered to watch them—Sakura can see them on the rooftops, watching, but it doesn’t appear they have hostile intent. For all the Akatsuki’s reputation, Deidara’s just a battered and exhausted looking young man carrying a bruised up girl with bright pink hair and a busted knee. 

Deidara’s glad to answer any questions the Sand shinobi have, but he won’t leave the examination room, his hand firmly holding Sakura’s as an old woman named Chiyo looks over her knee. She says nothing save the occasional angry grumble directed more at the circumstances than Sakura herself. So, Gaara and several others—Kankuro and Temari included—are crammed in the corner of the already small exam room as Chiyo focuses her healing chakra into Sakura’s knee. 

The process makes Sakura sleepy, and though she wants to listen to Deidara describe all the members of the Akatsuki—she feels Chiyo’s chakra flares at the mention of Sasori, who Deidara has said is from here—and their various attributes.

Gaara listens intently, but every so often Sakura notices his gaze flicker to her. She feels her cheeks warm, and even though she knows that this Gaara doesn’t remember their time together, or feel that way about her—well, it’s still a little awkward when she catches him looking. 

Deidara squeezes her hand and when Sakura’s sleepy gaze turns to him in response, she’s amused with the petulant expression on his face. “Look at me, yeah,” he grumbles, slouched over at her bedside. His fingers squeeze her hand again, and then he goes on to answer whatever Kankuro has been asking him.

Sakura chuckles, smiling fondly at him, her eyes drifting closed as she’s lulled to sleep by the healing chakra.

…

Sakura vaguely remembers someone carrying her to her dorm, grumbling about the inconvenience all the while—and that for the inconvenience of it, he steals her quesadilla. 

Ino settles in her own bed, eating her food, casually discarding the wrappers on her nightstand. 

“Who was supposed to give you a ride home?” Itachi asks.

Ino stares blankly, carefully holding her taco to prevent it from falling apart all over her bed, before inhaling sharply, “Oh my god, I forgot about Shikamaru!”

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Two: Deidara of Iwa - Orange Heart

Fast asleep in the real world as Ino panics and tries to contact the poor soul she’d asked to be their designated driver and subsequently abandoned, Sakura wakes up where she left off in the game—her hospital bed. Deidara lays next to her, them both smushed in the bed, his fingers intertwined with hers even in his sleep. The Suna dark isn’t as absolute as it had been in the wilderness, light from street lamps below coming in through the window, casting the room in a hazy but navigable glow. 

Movement in the corner of the room catches her attention, and though moving makes her feel stiff and sluggish, she shifts to look. Her eyes peer in the darkness, but she sees nothing. She brushes it off as probably just a fly she caught out of the corner of her eye. Sakura has no time to dwell on it before Deidara rouses, his free hand skimming her side. 

“You’re up,” he says, that hand moving up to stifle a yawn.

“I just woke up now,” Sakura gives a little smile. 

“Are you in pain?” His hand comes back down, resting again on her side. “Chiyo finished you up and left you to sleep off the anesthesia, but if you’re still hurting, I’ll go get—”

“I feel fine,” Sakura mumbles, her own hands wandering for comfort, and she rolls over so that she can curl them in his shirt, “Just a little tired. Tell me a story?”

Deidara embraces her eagerly as she cuddles into him, always happy to hold her, “What kind of story?”

“Any kind,” Sakura hums, eyes fluttering closed as she rests against his chest.

He’s quiet a moment, hand rubbing her back through her nightgown as he considers, “When I was a little boy in Iwa, the orphanage didn’t let us keep any personal items. There were too many children and too little room—we could have the items we were assigned, and that’s it. But one day, a traveling merchant gave me a small clay frog. I hid it for as long as a little kid can get away with hiding much of anything, but one of the Madames found it tucked away with my clothes, and that morning at breakfast she smashed it in front of everybody.”

Sakura inhales sharply, “How cruel.”

“It’s just the way things were. But I didn’t respond the way they expected—instead of thinking that I shouldn’t have personal items, I said, okay, then, if I like something I just have to destroy it first so they couldn’t take it from me. So, I started figuring out how to make little globs of clay, and then I would smash them myself. When I figured out my explosion release, it developed into my art—something I could enjoy, and nobody could take it away, because it was an explosion and then it was over. But maybe,” he presses a kiss to the top of her head, “like someone said, it wasn’t about the art, it was the way I felt about the art. Like it was something that was just mine, in a world where I had nothing else of my own—and why would I have ever cared about loyalty to the village over that, when they’d purposefully forced us to disconnect from feeling anything for it as a home? So, I followed that passion.”

Sakura looks up, pulling back, her chest aching. What a world of sad stories. Her hand darts up to caress his cheek, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” he hums, smiling at her. That smile falters and he hesitates, like he doesn’t want to ask, but he finds the confidence to start, “But… about the Kazekage…”

Sakura’s mind goes blank for a moment. How did Deidara know about Gaara? How could he possibly? 

“You said his name in your sleep when we met,” Deidara continues, confidence clearly fading as he continues, averting his eyes. “Which sounds longer ago than it really is. Sakura, I want you to know, you don’t need to feel obligated—”

“Wait,” Sakura starts. That’s right—she remembers Deidara saying she’d said Gaara’s name in her sleep the night he’d had Zetsu take her from the cage. Her hand withdraws from his cheek in her panic, and he must take that as a negative sign, because he winces.

“Let me finish, yeah,” he inhales, steeling himself. “It’s that Gaara, the Kazekage, that you were talking about? I need you to know that you don’t need to feel obligated to be with me in any sense of the phrase. The shinobi here can get you home safely. You could be with… him, or someone who has more to offer than I do. You don’t owe me this, or anything. I helped you because I wanted to, yeah.”

It’s his little nervous yeah that gets her throat tight, and immediately Sakura is pulling his chin down to desperately crush her lips to his. “Deidara,” she says as she pulls back, “I want you. Please don’t think that way about yourself. I don’t want the sand shinobi to be the ones to get me home safely, or to be with him, I want to go home with you. I want to be with you.”  

Deidara practically melts with relief. “You’re sure?” He asks, and the moment Sakura gives an eager yes, his lips are on hers.

Maybe it was a lie, or at least a white lie—how can she expect to know what she wants when none of this is real? And how can the thought of hurting him make her heart constrict so painfully? His lips on hers, the desperation in his touch; it all certainly felt real.

“Tell me again,” he says between kisses.

Sakura can’t help but smile against his lips, “I want you, Deidara.” Her hands drift downward, to the hem of her gown, which crinkles as she starts to shimmy it up, and she asks a question she already knows the answer to, “Do you want me too?”

Though she expected a yes, she can’t prevent the white hot blush on her face when Deidara shifts, his hands gripping her hips tightly, and the restraint on his face is visible as he huskily mutters, “More than anything.”

Sakura nearly squeaks, and in a burst of confidence, she says, “So fucking take me.”

Deidara makes a throaty groan, flipping her on her back, accidentally ripping her gown. “Whoops,” he cracks a smile. 

Just then, she notices movement in the corner of the room again. She catches it this time, now that she’s fully awake, although it takes a moment to register the small shape suspended in the corner of the room. When she realizes what it is, and Deidara must’ve caught the look on her face because his attention is drawn to the same corner of the room, she lets out a startled scream.

It’s a disembodied eye. The iris shifts to the side, as if in acknowledgement that it’s been caught, and it disappears in a swirl of sand.

The mood is shattered, Deidara hovering over her to protectively shield her should the eye return, and their cursing is loud enough to rouse worried hospital staff.

One new hospital nightgown, and several knowing grins from the staff who provided it to her, later and Sakura is demanding an audience with the Kazekage immediately. Well, the nurses mumbe in a sheepish chorus, of course, the Kazekage is a busy man—

“If he has time to be a pervert,” Sakura growls, beet red, “he has time for me to yell at him about it.” Her accusations aren’t unfounded. The staff admits they’ve never heard of such a jutsu, and could think of no one in the village with the ability to manipulate sand the way Gaara can. When asked how she knew that he could do such a thing, Sakura explains his use for it to cheat in the first portion of their Chunin Exams, and she’s convincing enough that a formal request to see him is submitted. 

Deidara is furious, his fists clenched for the entirety of the morning. Even when Sakura is released from the hospital, and the pair is free to angrily loiter in Gaara’s lobby, Deidara sticks close to her side. He hasn’t felt this powerless in years—obviously, no matter how much he wants to, he could not possibly blow up the Kazekage and still be accepted in Konoha with Sakura. As he steals glances at her angry, embarrassed face, he’s still tempted. He fervently reminds himself that the end goal is to go home with her.

Sakura isn’t sure what she expected, but Gaara has the common courtesy to apologize when cornered. “I wasn’t trying to intrude,” he says, seated at his desk, positioned behind stacks of paperwork in an effort to best conceal his embarrassment. “I had been checking on you throughout the night—not in a lewd way. I never would have used it had I known you would’ve been in, ah, an intimate situation.”

“A likely story,” Deidara alternates between skulking around the Kazekage’s office to pressing Sakura stubbornly to his side.

Gaara’s eyes flicker between Deidara and Sakura, “Could I speak to Miss Haruno alone for a moment?”

“Absolutely not,” Deidara starts, but several Jonin quickly flash into the room. The pair recognizes that it’s not a request, not really, and with a frustrated grimace and a reassuring pat on the hand from Sakura, Deidara is removed from the room.

Gaara is quiet, gaze level, like he isn’t exactly sure how to apologize.

“I’m just saying, it seemed a little lingering for someone checking in on me,” Sakura crosses her arms, waiting to hear what he had to say for himself.

He opens his mouth, clearly hesitant about what he’s about to say, before he quietly asks a  question, “How did you know that was my jutsu?”

Sakura’s mind goes blank—is it just her, or is his expression… sad? “Well,” Sakura mumbles, her confidence faltering along with her anger, “you, um, used it in the Chunin Exams and the staff at the hospital basically confirmed they didn’t know anyone else that could use it.” What if that wasn’t true in this route? She had just foolhardily assumed he would’ve still needed to cheat—but maybe he was really just flirting in his route.

He looks like there’s more he wants to say, more questions he wants to ask, and when his ears flush that familiar red, then Sakura feels her resolve weaken.

She wants to rush to him, to… well, she doesn’t know what. This is a different person.

“Right, I just,” he presses a hand to his temple, eye half closed in a soft wince, “don’t remember using it anywhere near you.” 

Sakura wonders if she’s been caught in her bluff. Perhaps she can play it off as being incredibly observant? Even though she didn’t need to cheat, she could claim to have been.

“But I also do.”

“Wh—” Sakura hesitates, “What do you mean?”

“The First Exam,” Gaara starts, his eyes distant. He rises from his chair, his ears still flushes, and he starts to move around the desk. “I can remember, vividly, cheating off Temari, who was nowhere near you. But I also—like something out of a dream, I remember…” Gaara trails off, taking a moment before reverently whispering, “‘Cheaters never prosper.’”

Sakura’s hand shoots to her mouth. She had written that to Gaara, to his floating eye during the exam.

“And then after, I know that nothing happened and I went back to my room to meditate, but—” Gaara winces, but he moves forward, his arms reaching to gently grip her shoulders. “But I also remember being in the woods, and I—we—” Gaara’s gaze shoots from her eyes to her hand, still covering her mouth. 

“That’s not possible,” Sakura whispers, a lump in her throat. “That’s not supposed to be possible.” 

“Tell me,” one of his hands nudges hers away from her mouth, the other moving to caress her cheek. “Sakura, tell me what’s happening to me. Tell me why the sight of you with that man—” Gaara’s fingers tilt her chin up, so their lips are barely an inch apart, “Tell me why I can’t stand it. Who are we, to each other?”

There is a pressure intense enough to rip the universe apart at its seams. Sakura shuts her eyes at the sudden pain, and when it finally ceases, she opens them to find a completely different scene.

She’s still in Gaara’s office, but he’s sitting at his desk, absentmindedly filling out paperwork as he prattles on about scheduling an escort to Konoha. 

Deidara is there also, his hand linked with hers, and his cheerful expression in stark contrast to the state she’d last seen him in. 

Sakura sharply sucks in breath like she’s just come up for air, and Deidara is quick to steady her when she wobbles. 

“Are you alright?” Deidara asks, and his concerned expression is too much for her.

“Sai?” Sakura starts, tears springing in her eyes, “Sai?!” The game is paused, definitely, the other two characters waiting mindlessly for her to resume, but her dutiful guide hasn’t appeared. She scans the room, pushing herself out of Deidara’s arms, her breathing becoming labored, and she weakly calls out for him again. “Sai,” she trembles, looking between Gaara and Deidara, “tell me—I need to know what’s happening! Where are you?!” 

…

Sakura wakes with a start, tumbling out of her comforter and onto the floor. She scrambles for her wastebasket, pulling it just under her chin before she vomits onto the trash inside it. She retches, her eyes watering, and she coughs violently between bouts. 

“Oh, shit,” Ino’s sleepy voice grumbles, and in a moment Sakura can feel her hair being pulled back and out of her face.

Sakura reels back, another round hitting her.

“Alright, I’m here,” Ino says, adjusting so she has a free hand to rub Sakura’s back. “Go on, get it all out.”

Sputtering, Sakura is left crying, arms curled around the trash can. She roughly wipes her mouth with her forearm before she rises, staggering, to her feet. “I need—I need a shower. I’m gross.”

“You sure?” 

She nods, grabbing for the first pajamas she can find and a towel before she nearly storms out the door toward the shower. She’s grimy, she reeks of chlorine, she tastes like vomit. She pictures Gaara’s face. ‘Who are we, to each other?’ No one? Everything? She pictures Deidara. ‘You don’t owe me this, or anything.’ God, she’s going to be sick again.

Sakura makes her way to the shower stalls, setting her fresh clothes and towel on the small bench. Her old clothes go right on the floor, and soon she’s under lovely, singing hot water. She opens her mouth, swirling water around and spitting on the floor. Slowly, the heat and the steam begin to calm her racing, panicked heart. Sai would be able to explain this. She only had to wait until she fell asleep. Sai would make it better.

Under the guise that she isn’t feeling well for perfectly reasonable, real life explanations—she’s hungover, she almost drowned, she threw up this morning—she curls in bed, waiting to fall back asleep. But it doesn’t come and she lays there, eyes trained on her phone, her hands trembling as she scrolls through memes.

Ino sets her up with some crackers and water, insisting she have some or she’ll only feel worse. At some point, she’d tossed Sakura’s garbage for her. She takes a seat on her own bed, glancing over to make sure she eats, and she sets herself up to do some homework. 

Sakura nibbles absently on a cracker, thinking about what she’d say to Sai—God, she wishes the only thing wrong with her was the damn hangover. He explicitly said that they wouldn’t remember her. How could he do this? She opens her contacts, ready to text Shino, and she hesitates. He didn’t deserve for her to dump on him about her problems. Even if he insists it’s fine. Besides, until she speaks with Sai, she has no idea what even happened. A glitch? Sai lied to her? And if he did lie, then what? And why?

She scrolls over to the app, about to click it and reread supplementary material in hopes of some sort of explanation. As she scrolls to it, she’s surprised to see the familiar loading circle on the app icon, indicating that it’s updating. Sakura goes to her settings to see the details of the update, and the only present information is one bullet point: “bug fixes.” A bug fix? Gaara remembering her is a bug to be fixed? How convenient for Sai. Her blood boils, her hands clenching her phone. 

But Ino’s concerned glances slowly wear away at Sakura’s bitter anger. She had to remember that the game and her real life were separate—it only affects her if she lets it, right? She thinks of Gaara’s expression, of the worry on Deidara’s face, and mumbles, “Maybe I just need to sleep a little more and my stomach will settle. We can get lunch later, if you want.”

Ino perks up, visibly relieved, “Yeah, okay! I hope you feel better!”

Sakura quietly thanks her, rolling over to face the wall. Fuck this game, she inwardly huffs, closing her eyes and trying to foce herself to that place of calm.

It isn’t working. Her heart is beating too fast, her brain is thinking too much. Okay, that’s fine. She lays still, her eyes closed, trying to relax her mind and organize a list of the rapidly growing questions she has about this game—most pressing, at the current moment, being what she should do if Gaara remembers her again. 

It would hurt to leave either of them. How could she possibly choose? She can’t—and even then, the purpose is to beat the game. Gaara remembering her mid-route does nothing, unless he remembers her in the lobby, because once the route is over he’ll be just as gone. She spends nearly an hour thinking about it, about how even if he would remember her, it didn’t make a difference. She had to keep pushing through the game, right? That’s the only way for it all to end. For her to get on with her life. This is a game.

She thinks of his expression once more. Who are we, to each other? Nobody, if she thinks about it. They’re nothing at all, and that thought is bitter, swirling in her mind as she drifts off.

...

“I’m here.”

Hearing his voice, Sakura whirls sharply on the balls of her feet to find Sai, standing in front of the door, and if anything is wrong, he gives nothing away with his typical fake smile. “Gaara remembered me,” Sakura says it like an accusation, hurt flashing through her eyes. “You said that he couldn’t—”

“A miscalculation,” Sai interrupts her. “A glitch in the system. It’s been corrected with the patch, but you need to calm down.”

“I—” Sakura shakes her head, “I hurt him, Sai. You didn’t see it, he wasn’t just a game—”

“Do you hear yourself right now? This is a game, Sakura. These are not real people. You aren’t cheating on Gaara of the Desert, because he doesn’t exist—” 

“Fuck you,” Sakura seethes. “You don’t exist.”

“Correct,” Sai dips his head in agreement, ignoring her tone. “This was an anomaly, an anomaly that’s been corrected, but you need to resume play as though nothing is wrong or the other characters will notice.” 

“Am I in danger? Is this game going to fry my brain?” 

“No,” Sai says urgently, taking a few steps toward her, “You’re safe.”

Sakura isn’t exactly appeased by that answer, but she warily glances back at the boys, “Doesn’t feel safe. Feels very fucked up and not safe, in fact.” Her gaze lingers on Gaara, and despite the pained expression on his face what was only a few moments ago—there he is, at his desk, perfectly fine. Could it really have been a momentary glitch? Looking at Deidara is equally painful—she’d just assured him that she wants to be with him. Will he remember that, when she’s long gone, alone in his room in the Akatsuki base? Will he hate her for leaving? She’s about to ask Sai if Gaara will remember her again, but he cuts her off.

“You need to collect yourself,” he reminds her. “The data feeds off of you.” He doesn’t give her a moment to get herself together, disappearing as soon as he exits her line of vision.

The game resumes, Deidara gripping her waist firmly. He cups his fingers under her chin, the other hand moving upward to gingerly press against her forehead. “What’s wrong, yeah? You don’t feel warm.”

“Ah,” Sakura flushes, heartbeat so loud she could swear they’ll hear it, her eyes flitting between Deidara and Gaara, “all of the stress caught up to me, but I’ll be fine.” She’s sure Sai is lying—he’s being too dodgy not to be—but about what? Will they remember her? Is the game frying her brain? Both?

“Perhaps I should delay the departure a few days?” Gaara offers, and now that her episode appears to have passed, he resumes looking over the papers scattered across her desk. “We would be happy to host you. I can send word to the Hokage.”

Sai said it was an anomaly, but it pains Sakura to look at Gaara and know she’d hurt his feelings, even if she hadn’t meant to and a glitch in the game was the only reason he remembered her in the first place. “No, I really think I’ll feel a thousand times better once I’m in my own bed.” She quickly adds, “But of course, thank you for your hospitality.” 

Gaara nods, “Then the squad will be ready at dusk. My sister asked to accompany you personally, and there will be two additional Jonin. You can meet in the lobby here. That, and your associate here, should be more than adequate protection should any trouble arise. I’ll have packs prepared for your departure. Chiyo wanted to see you at the hospital, but otherwise, rest until it’s time to depart.”

Sakura wonders whether or not they’re taking the whole Sasori thing a little lightly—and if anyone more than Sasori showed up, they’d be in big trouble. Were three Sand shinobi really enough? They obviously no longer suspected Deidara of anything outright dangerous—sitting at Sakura’s hospital bedside and spouting all the information he had on the Akatsuki probably validated their story as genuine runaways—but Temari coming along was probably a further attempt to gather information and keep an eye on gim. Still, Sakura and Deidara thank him for his generosity and head down to the lobby. 

She sneaks glances at Deidara. He’s clearly not angry with Gaara, so the patch fix must’ve erased them catching Gaara snooping. “Hey, Deidara,” Sakura starts, trailing off, not certain how to ask without sounding like she has a head injury, “about this morning…”

He flushes, whirling around to face her, “Eh? You want more kisses already?” Happy with this development, he links hands with her, “You should see the doctor at the hospital first.”

Sakura squeaks, embarrassed by what she’s inadvertently implied. “Of course.” 

Deidara hums, stopping in his tracks, and he tugs her hand to bring her closer to him. “Alright, one more.” He kisses her briskly, and then peppers her cheeks with kisses.

“That’s more than one,” Sakura jokingly protests, her sour mood lifting at Deidara’s bright disposition.

“I’m greedy,” he shrugs, eyes half lidded in mirth. “Alright, let’s go.” 

Chiyo wants to see her privately. Sakura can’t imagine why—the last time a doctor had been worried about her, it’s because Gaara had hurt her. Since this wasn’t the case with Deidara, she thinks, briefly, that she might want more information on Sasori. She’d definitely seemed to react when he was mentioned. But no, Deidara would know more about him than she would. She opens the door to the examination room, opening her mouth to politely greet the old woman when she’d cut off.

“You,” Chiyo gestures to her. “The blond boy is gone?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sakura says, softly closing the door behind her. “The nurses sent him off to take a nap before we depart this evening.”

“Excellent,” Chiyo hums pleasantly. “So, you are Sakura Haruno.” 

It’s a statement, not a question, but Sakura quietly responds, “Yes, that’s right.” 

“The apprentice of Sanin and the Fifth Hokage, Tsunade.”

With minimal idea of who Tsunade is, and even less of an idea of where this is going, she says again, “Yes, that’s right.”

She tuts, her attitude switching, her dark eyes narrow, “The Akatsuki member stated that you used medical ninjutsu when he was injured, but when you were injured, it appears to me that you’ve made no attempt to heal yourself.” She takes a few steps forward, intimidating despite her short stature.

Sakura manages to conceal a grimace with an awkward smile, “Oh, well, you see—” How’s she going to bluff her way out of this one?

“That’s enough out of you,” Chiyo snaps, reaching out to yank her arm, inspecting her hand. “You’re not an imposter, chakra infused punches like yours are practically a signature of the Fifth Hokage’s. Plus, there’s your pink hair.”

A signature? Sakura stares, not sure if she’s supposed to agree. She only punched the ground on instinct and, evidently, infused her chakra into it and caused it to propel throughout the dirt. 

“Are you just going to stand there like a fool, girl?” Chiyo scoffs. “Explain yourself.”

“But you just said that was enough out of me,” Sakura grumbles, but she wilts under Chiyo’s gaze. “Alright, so, um…” Sakura tries to think of something good, before she opts for the truth, “I didn’t think I’d be able to use it, and honestly, I was in so much pain I didn’t think to try.”

Chiyo’s stare stays even, “If you’re implying chakra exhaustion, I don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth.”

What’s she supposed to tell her? That she’s from another world and became a ninja with no idea what she’s doing? 

But the game code must be looking out for her. Chiyo grabs two scrolls from the counter and hands them to Sakura with a frown, but there’s no malice in it, “We were all young once, girl. But don’t let a pretty face or a little pain prevent you from using your training. Review the basics and don’t be so foolish again.”

Sakura clutches the scrolls, buzzing with excitement. She eagerly thanks Chiyo, who shoos her off to get some rest. Gaara trained her in her last route, so clearly she’s meant to use these in this one, to ‘refresh’ her on the training she’s supposedly received from the legendary Tsunade.

Sakura finds Deidara with enough time to get a few hours of rest before they depart. He’s passed out in a hospital bed that a nurse had generously offered while he waited—obviously, this hospital isn’t nearly as busy as the hospitals Sakura is used to in the real world—and the moment Sakura nudges him to scoot over, he’s up.

He opens his arms for her, a silent request for her to lay down, his eyes barely open and his blond hair messily splayed all over the place. His orange heart meter is on display for her.

Sakura smiles at him, a lump in her throat as she climbs into the cramped bed and settling in his arms. So, they’re almost at the end. Orange already. All that’s left is red, but they aren’t even home yet. Does the route end here in Suna? 

He wraps his arms around her, pulling Sakura into his chest and letting out a content, sleepy sigh. 

Sakura closes her eyes, enjoying his warmth, and tries to remind herself to enjoy the route for what it is—even if everything is a mess right now, even if it’s uncertain what really happens when the route ends. At least, right now, he’s warm, and she’s happy.

They dress more traditionally for the Suna weather—head coverings and long sleeved clothing made of light material to protect their skin from the sun. Even though they’re starting off at night, they’d still be exposed over the course of the journey. The bags they’re given have basic provisions, and one of the Jonin from their impending team arrives early to brief Deidara and Sakura with their upcoming route in their hospital room—flight was considered, but Deidara is already spent, let alone plotting a flight for their whole party and being of any use should they get into another fight. Slower and steadier is determined their best course of action, the bird more of a last minute escape plan should the need arise. 

Deidara agrees amicably, and Sakura’s a little surprised by this—she thought the threat of the Akatsuki would have him veering toward the quickest route, even if it was less suited to their allies. She feels his fingers lace with hers, softly tugging her hand to his so he can hold it, and thinks that maybe he’s nervous for what happens when they arrive in Konohagakure. Maybe Deidara is trying to give the impression that he can compromise and play along. After all, showing up on a giant—and given what she understands about his kekkei genkai and chakra, highly explosive—bird, probably on the verge of passing out, is not the impression he’d want to make. 

When it’s finally time for them to leave, the Jonin leading the way, Gaara and Kankuro come to wish them a safe journey. Sakura politely shakes their hands, and though she steals glances at Gaara searching for any sign of hurt or longing, she finds only general friendliness. In fact, most of his attention is on his sister, as they discuss potential business upon her return. There is a moment where Temari says, “Don’t worry, I’ll visit that shop you like.” For a moment, perhaps irrationally, Sakura thinks of the tea shop. Gaara and Kankuro discuss further objectives with the team while they’re in Konoha, giving Sakura and Deidara a moment of relative privacy.

Deidara squeezes her hand, diverting Sakura’s attention to him, “Are you nervous, yeah?” He presses a chaste kiss to her forehead, “You don’t need to be. With an open combat field like this, I can take care of any enemy coming at us, boom, no problem.”

Sakura tugs on his hair affectionately with her free hand, twirling a blond strand around her finger, “I’m not nervous, just thinking about how good it’ll feel to be home.” It’s funny, feeling a little homesick for a house that isn’t hers and a bed that isn’t real. 

“Do you have parents?” 

Sakura finds it an odd question—yes, she’ll be visiting them for Thanksgiving—and then remembers that not only is this not her world, but Deidara is an orphan. She knows her character background stated that she has parents, even if she hasn’t met them yet. “Yes,” she answers him, “but I don’t live with them anymore. I’m sure they’ll love you.” 

“Really, yeah?” 

Sakura feels a lump in her throat at the way his eyes brighten. “Of course,” she moves to playfully pinch his cheek, “just look at that eager puppy dog face.”

“Eh?!” Deidara jerks away, face flushed, “Don’t call me a puppy. You’re younger than me, you know!” 

Sakura grins mischievously, “Puppy is a state of mind.”

Deidara huffs at her, and Sakura can’t help but think he looks secretly pleased, “I’m going to get you back for your teasing later, yeah.”

A cough interrupts them, Temari looking at them with a keen smile, “Lovebirds, you two ready to hit the road?”

“O-Of course,” Sakura answers sheepishly.

“I never thought one of the infamous Akatsuki would go around letting girls pinch his cheeks,” Temari chuckles, the Jonin beside her also looking amused.

“Only this one,” Deidara pats Sakura on the head, clearly embarrassed, “so don’t go getting any ideas.”

Sakura watches—if a little ruefully—as Gaara and Kankuro wave them off, looking completely unbothered. Gaara is fine. The game’s patched, right? When this is all over, Deidara will be fine too. Right? 

…

Sakura wakes up feeling much better, stretching lethargically in bed. 

Ino, now perched at her desk and retyping up some written notes, peeks over, “Hey, how are you doing? How’s the hangover?”

“I’m much better,” Sakura says, eager to brush her heartache off as a bad reaction to her night out in the real world, and to divert further from that altogether, “and damn, I’m starving.”  

“Let’s go get something to eat then,” Ino starts to put away her coursework and stands up from the desk, hands shooting up to redo her ponytail.

Sakura climbs out of bed slowly, groggily searching her closet for some sweatpants. She grabs her last pair, and notes, “I’m going to throw some laundry in the wash before we go.” She changes and hoists her laundry basket up, tossing a bottle of detergent into the basket and holding it steady as they leave.

In the lobby of the dormitory, there’s a small recreational room full of chatty students and, to the side, a utility room with several washers and dryers—free to use, if the students provide their own detergent. If not, there were capsules for purchase in a little vending machine. 

Sakura runs her laundry, setting a timer on her phone as they head out for lunch. On the way, they run into Hinata, who perks up at the sight of them.

“Hey,” she calls out, approaching, “are you two going to the dining hall?”

“Yeah,” Sakura grins, pleased. “Are you? Let’s eat together.”

“Do you mind if my cousin tags along?” Hinata falls in step with the other two girls, “We were supposed to meet. He’s a regular human being, I promise.”

Sakura recalls Neji Hyuuga, and how he’s definitely not a regular person—in fact, she can remember vividly him beating the shit out of Hinata in the game and proclaiming his hate for the hierarchy of his family. 

“Sure, that’s fine,” Ino answers.

Of course, Sakura shoos away the thought, everyone’s at least three times as tragic in the game. He’s probably perfectly normal here. 

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Two: Deidara of Iwa - Red Heart

To Sakura’s surprise, not only is this world’s Neji Hyuuga perfectly normal and not holding a long-standing blood feud against Hinata—he seems nice. He’s even on a pre-med path like her, though he’s a year older. 

“My dad and I had a bit of a falling out in high school,” Hinata explains, gesturing to Neji, “because literally everyone else in my family is in or lined up for the medical field. Doctors, nurses, dentists, whatever. They’re everywhere. Neji’s wanted to be a neurosurgeon since he was seven. I’ve always been an art kid, so we would all butt heads.”

“He came around after your photography exhibit Junior year though,” Neji points out.

“True,” Hinata smiles fondly. “Besides, my little sister wants to take over the family practice, so he didn’t have to worry. Plus I committed to a Business minor, and Dad’s always looking to make a deal. I get it. We get along fine. I painted the mural in their waiting room, actually.” She pulls a picture up on her phone, showing Sakura and Ino a photograph of a doctor’s waiting room, the wall behind the chairs covered in a painstakingly detailed field of painted flowers. 

The girls both coo over the beauty of it, Sakura grinning, “I didn’t know you could paint. That’s so gorgeous.”

“You’re a regular Jack of all trades, huh?” Ino teases her. It’s true—between the gardening club, photography club, painting, her Art major and Business minor—it’s a wonder she has any time at all.

Hinata flushes, embarrassed at the praise and changing the subject, “Are you both coming to the next gardening club meeting?”

They both agree. Sakura thinks about how she wishes she were involved in more clubs—and then she feels silly. There’s nothing stopping her. Well, nothing besides plotting to beat the Root app, and hell—is that really going to run her life?

“Maybe I’ll come too. When is it?” Neji says, pointedly making eye contact with Sakura.

She averts her gaze sharply.

Hinata quirks a brow at that, “Since when do you care about plants?”

“Hm?” Neji takes a languid sip of his drink, “Nonsense, I’ve always been interested in lovely blossoms.”

Ino chokes on her spit, looking sharply at Sakura, and back at Neji.

“You must be in Biology 101 now, right Sakura?” Neji tilts his head, silky hair swaying with the movement, nearly hypnotizing her. “If you ever wanted, I’d be happy to go over my notes with you. I got an A in that class.”

Sakura consciously stops her jaw from dropping. Did he—? No, that’s not asking her out, right? Like, a study date? “Well, I could always use more friends in my field, but I don’t want to be a bother,” Sakura tests. She’s not ready to date. Right? Right. Even if he has excellent cheekbones and incredible hair. Sakura has enough on her plate in her dreams.

Ino nudges her sharply with her elbow.

“Ouch,” Sakura hisses at her, but she doesn’t turn her way.

“I didn’t mean as friends,” Neji clarifies, the epitome of calm and collected.

“Oh,” Sakura says, and then again as his words register, “oh. Well, um, let’s settle on maybe?”

“Maybe it is,” he agrees amicably, returning to his food.

By the end of their meal, Sakura is in a great mood—which just goes to show how the universe conspires against her. As Ino and Sakura walk, she sees Sasuke out of the corner of her eye. And then, she sees a head of bright red hair that brings her good mood to a crashing halt.

Is that?

No. No, it can’t be. Sakura squints.

“Oh, no fucking way,” Ino whispers conspiratorially. “No-o-o fucking way. That’s Karin Uzumaki.” 

“Yup,” Sakura says flatly, and Sasuke must sense her wrath, because their eyes meet and he grimaces. That’s Karin Uzumaki alright. Karin ‘Please, Sakura, she’s just an annoying classmate’ Uzumaki from high school, nestled comfortably against his arm. 

“Gross, don’t look at that vulture,” Ino narrows her eyes, grabbing Sakura’s arm and marching her toward their dormitory to change out her laundry.

Sakura thinks she hears her name from behind her, but she doesn’t look back. If her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, honestly, she doesn’t want to hear what he has to say. 

She forces her eyes straight ahead, on autopilot for the rest of the day, until she knows her head can hit the pillow. 

…

Deidara offers to carry Sakura every so often, and Sakura pretends this means he’d like to hold her rather than what it probably actually meant—that she looks as tired as she feels. “Healing takes a lot of energy,” Deidara protests when she accuses him of babying her. “I’m just making sure you’re up to your top tier level of kickass, yeah.”

“I’m always at top tier,” Sakura scoffs, but she reaches out to hold his hand anyway, if only to ease the worried look on his face. After all, by fixing the glitch, Deidara was only left with the impression that she hadn’t been feeling well - there was no indication whatsoever that he recalled Gaara seeing them intimately. 

Deidara immediately hones in on the connection, his thumb tracing small swirls along her skin. He hums happily, lost in the action. 

Sakura briefly wonders what circle of hell she would be sent to for her newfound love of soft, sad, touch-starved boys. She always thought she liked bad boys—the cold and aloof type—but honestly, there’s something so nice and personal about being loved like your presence makes them melt. She wonders if Deidara realizes he has a hand thing. It’s been fairly obvious since their first night together. She inwardly reminds herself to play into that later.

Temari keeps up easy conversation; she talks about Suns, about how things have been since Gaara finally took the official title of Kazekage, about her last trip as ambassador to Konoha and the weird ramen she tried at Ichiraku’s the last time she was there. As part of her duties, she apparently visits quite frequently. The other Jonin are quiet—maybe even, or so Sakura expects, intimidated by Temari—but they pipe in occasionally about the last time they’d been to Konoha and what they did there. 

They ask Deidara questions, not so much about the Akatsuki as about himself: everything from more details on where he was from to how exactly he makes the clay explode. Deidara, flattered by their interest, is eager to explain—he’s from Iwa, up in the mountains, where it’s always cold; most of the houses are built into the mountains, and the people are fairly traditional, if not strict; his parents died when he was young, and there was little purpose for an orphan in Iwa if not to become an excellent soldier. So, he became an excellent soldier.

To an extent, though she’s never experienced war, Sakura understood that. It even reminded her a little of Gaara. She gives his hand a squeeze and he returns it, turning briefly to give her a smile.

There was no love or passion for Deidara in being a shinobi, but it put food on the table, and the money gave him the resources to have his own place where he could pursue his art. Learning to detonate the clay was everything for him that Iwa wasn’t—it was inspiring, and more importantly, it was his gift. Perfecting his art, and the theft of the jutsu that helped him perfect it, was the reason he’d been proclaimed a missing nin—but Deidara was the type of person to live the way he needed to for what he loved, so he didn’t mind, and when the Akatsuki pursued him it meant just as little as being an Iwa nin. 

One of the Jonin is bold enough to ask how he and Sakura ended up together. “Not exactly a romantic first meeting, I imagine,” the Jonin sheepishly adds.

Deidara scoffs playfully, but his grip on her hand tightens, “I’ll never forget her first words to me: ‘What are you, five?’ Fireworks.” 

“He pulled my hair,” Sakura tattles, turning to Temari for sympathy. “I was just sitting there, a prisoner of war in my sad little cell, minding my own business.” 

“Hey, I saved you from that cell!” 

“If we’re being technical—”

“Pfft,” Deidara rolls his eyes, “technicalities.” He continues, free hand tucking back a loose strand of his hair, and he shoots Sakura a mischievous smile, “We got together because I didn’t want the Akatsuki to hurt her. It became quickly evident that I was going to have to make a choice, Akatsuki member or the Sakura’s safest option. We ended up together on the way to Suna.” 

To her surprise, the group starts asking Sakura questions, and she’s embarrassed with how eager Deidara is to hear the answers. She pauses before answering, embarrassed with how eager Deidara is to hear the answers. She pauses before responding to each question—while she doubts her favorite hobbies or foods are detrimental to the game if she’s not accurate to the character, and they’re vague enough anyway, she at least gives the game a moment to provide an answer before responding. 

When they finally do make camp, Temari warns them to prepare for the desert night to feel much colder than their breaks during the day. Deidara and Sakura share a look. How cold could it be, compared to being huddled in a frosty cave? Still, Sakura will take any excuse to rest. One of the Jonin helps them summon a barricade—to block the wind and the sand as they sleep—and Sakura makes quick work of unfurling the sleeping bags that Suna had provided. 

“You know,” Deidara teases, bumping his hip into hers, “we’d be a lot warmer in just one.”

Sakura chuckles in response and sets the bags next to one another, under the protection of their barricade. 

The group eats around a small, hearty fire and Sakura begins to look over one of the scrolls Chiyo had given her—an introduction to medical ninjutsu, with a focus on chakra control. She knows quite a bit about chakra control from her time with Gaara, learning to climb trees and buildings, but getting from step A (focusing her own chakra into her feet, a skill she still isn’t extremely confident in) to step B (sending her chakra out and using it to heal another person) seems like an impossible gap in progress. 

She tests out the hand signs, practicing on her surely developing sunburn, imagining the growth of new cells rising up in the form of skin to replace the damaged cells. She can feel the response of her chakra to her call, and her left palm glows green as she holds it over her right hand. She waits a pregnant pause, holding the chakra over her sunburned knuckles and hoping something would happen. There’s an itch, but nothing else. She heaves a disappointed sigh, but just as she’s about to give up, there’s a visible shift as new skin rises up to flake away the burn. Sakura watches, eyes wide with shock. She lifts her hand to her cheeks and feels the itch as her sunburn flakes, and quickly brushes it off of her face.

“Hey, great,” Deidara interrupts her work, coming to kneel next to her. “Me next.” 

Sakura shifts her hand up to his cheeks, irritated from the constant wind and sand, and feels the pull of her chakra into his skin. When nothing happens, she hangs on the expectation, waiting for the new skin that should rise to replace the damaged skin like hers had. Nothing happens. She waits a few extra moments beyond when she’d decided to give up before lowering her hands, frowning, about to say something when Deidara cuts her off.

“No problem,” Deidara says chipperly, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “You’re probably just exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Sakura mumbles, disappointed. “I must be.” So, healing herself comes relatively naturally, but healing other people is more difficult—and she can’t do it on her own, without the help of a mini-game, quite yet. 

Deidara settles contentedly beside her, watching the scenery as Sakura resumes her studying. 

Sakura reads until the sun starts to set, the colors changing around her as she memorizes methods for medical ninjutsu. She may not be able to apply them yet, but if she memorizes the scrolls, then she’s bound to be able to apply them eventually. After all, there was a point that she thought she wouldn’t be able to use the Substitution Jutsu either. 

Soon, the sun is sinking below the dunes, and Deidara interrupts her studying to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Look at the sky, Sakura.”

She looks up and sucks in a sharp breath at the brilliant colors across the sky: reds, oranges, the beginnings of purples. The sand shines, shadows cast behind the slopes, and Deidara’s hand finds hers. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He says huskily, his lips grazing her ear.

Assuming he’s about to say something cheesy, Sakura starts to turn her head toward him, but his hand shoots to her shoulder as though to stop her.

“Stay still,” he says urgently, “watch every moment.”

So she does. She watches the reds curl along the sand and give way to purples, deep like bruises that fade and fade until the sun’s dipped below the horizon and soon the only light is their somber, flickering fire. “Wow,” she says, finally, when all is night and she’s finally realized the chill in the air. She turns to look at him, ready to tell him—well, that he was right, that the melting of day into night is a near magical thing to experience—to find he wasn’t watching the sunset at all. He is watching her, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth curled upward in a content closed smile, drunk on her.

Sakura flushes, “H-hey, I thought you were watching the sunset too.” 

Deidara hums softly in response. He was already close, and just when she thinks he’s going to kiss her, he rises slowly to his feet and helps her up gently. “Come on,” his hands envelop hers, his thumbs tracing over her wrists reverently, “bedtime.” 

Sakura nods, lost in him, following as he leads her backwards and away from the fire. One of the others begins to snuff the flames to embers—Temari had volunteered to keep watch. 

With little thought, Deidara huffs and kicks one of the sleeping bags from their spot. “We’re sharing,” he says stubbornly.

Sakura squeaks, eyes shifting to the others getting comfortable in their own sleeping bags behind their own wind blockades. 

Deidara tuts and quietly admonishes her, “Not for sex, goof. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to hold you.”

Sakura melts a little at that—how can she say no? “If you unzip it all the way, we can use it as a mat and the second one as a blanket.”

Pleased with her agreement, Deidara sets up the sleeping bag, and soon the pair is curled up together. Deidara pulls her against his chest so that Sakura’s cheek is snuggled securely against his collarbone. 

Her fingers ghost up, under his shirt, and she can practically feel the accusatory look he shoots her. “I’m being good,” she whispers, her hand resting comfortably on his heart. She knows he has a seal there, but it doesn’t activate, and the thumps of his heartbeat are comforting. How can something fake feel so certain under her fingertips? “I just wanted to feel your heartbeat.” They stay like that, warm despite the desert chill, Deidara’s steady heart lulling her to sleep.

“Nobody’s naked in there, right? ‘Cause it’s upsy-daisy time.” Temari’s voice wakes them before dawn, and the pair emerges with tired grumbles.

“Everyone’s fully clothed,” Sakura chuckles as they get up, quickly moving to pack up so they can get going toward home—as weird as it is, she really misses her virtual bed. 

Deidara offers to carry Sakura’s bag—and immediately after, Sakura herself—but she politely declines. After a full night’s rest, she feels fully recovered and ready to go.

Though she’s spent most of this route in discomfort—kidnapped, freezing cold, injured—Sakura couldn’t help but be enamored with the bright spots. Deidara’s smile, when he looks at her, could melt ice. As they walk, he holds her hand and urges Sakura to spot the tiny, meticulous, ever-changing details of the vast desert landscape.

Even the other Jonin are growing a piqued interest in his philosophy. “The desert will be a desert for as long as we live, longer, sure,” Deidara explains, one hand gesturing erratically and the other tracing tiny circles over Sakura’s hand with his thumb, “but in no two moments is it exactly the same. Every beautiful moment is fleeting. The dunes will change and shift, the clouds move, the sun hits the rocks just a certain way and it’s always a tiny bit different. So, every moment is precious and you should appreciate each one.”

It is, Sakura thinks, a lovely philosophy: to cherish the little moments in life, to create them in rushes of excitement—something Deidara clearly tries to achieve with his explosions. Each one is a little different: purpose, result, and method. 

“But what’s the point of dating if everything changes?” One of their companions challenges. “What’s the point in anything, let alone love?”

Sakura flushes, because they haven’t said the l-word yet, and knowing it meant the end of the route made it incredibly daunting, but Deidara is unfazed. “Love is the accumulation of all those moments. Sakura is beautiful every day, but the way she’s beautiful shifts constantly. Like when the sun hits her skin just right, or when she’s embarrassed, or the way her nose does that thing when she’s mad—”

“Alright, alright,” Temari jumps in, giving Sakura a sly smile, “we didn’t walk this far so your girlfriend can die of embarrassment before we get you both home.” 

Sakura softly meeps and Deidara squeezes her hand reassuringly. 

“The point is: love is appreciating all of these intimate moments, as many of them as you can get. I’m greedy. I’d like them all, yeah.”

Sakura’s heart hammers in her chest and she tugs softly on Deidara’s sleeve. 

He turns his attention to her, blue eyes bright, “Hm?”

She tugs at him again, tilting her chin upward, her lips slightly puckered to indicate what she wants.

Deidara swoops in eagerly, peppering her lips with chaste kisses as they walk. 

The other ninja hive teasing groans, but the mood is playful and light, and Sakura feels like she could walk a million miles.

They are not prepared, as the landscape slowly changes over the day from the shifting sands to the beginnings of the rocky terrain that leads into the Land of Fire, for the inevitable. That is to say, they are not prepared for Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki. 

Sakura’s surprised they are the two that come for them. After all, they’re bordering Itachi’s home country, where he and his Sharingan are bound to be most recognizable, and everything about Kisame made her assume he was best suited to the water. Combat here, even if the desert has given way to the beginning of the dense forest leading to Konoha, didn’t make much sense for the pair of them. 

Deidara senses them first, tensing up. Everyone senses the shift in mood immediately, taking a fighting stance before he can say anything, and Sakura can practically feel the chakra presence like a roaring wave as a thick tree is leveled in front of their path.

“Well, well,” Kisame announces his presence loudly, “haven’t you two been trouble lately?” 

“Sakura,” Deidara instructs, the mouths in his hands already hard at work, “get behind me, yeah.” 

Kisame stands before the group, broadsword brandished in all of its bandage-wrapped glory.

Sakura knows it’s foolish; she knows that even if she could replicate the earth shattering strength that had surprised everyone with—including herself—earlier in the route, she has no idea how to control it. But still, she can feel the mettle within her saying fuck that, “I’m fighting.”

“Very well,” another voice surprises them both, and Sakura whirls around with her fists raised to see crimson red that bled all other colors out of her world.

“Sakura,” a smooth voice calls out to her. 

She opens her eyes to this world, painted in the negative. The sky is blood red—no, Sakura realizes as she sees the man standing in a forest suddenly black as night, Sharingan red. She has seen those ruby red eyes in action only in his brother, and never against her, but here is the stern-faced Itachi Uchiha as her opponent. “I hear you bested Sasori.”

“Deidara did all of the hard work.”

“That’s not how Sasori tells it,” Itachi approaches her and, as her awareness fades into this reality, she can feel the stretch in her arms as she’s bound to a cross. She glances around, but her allies and Kisame are gone. Or rather, she is gone, to wherever Itachi has brought her.

“Where am I?” Sakura says, a clear bite in her voice. “I warned you already, Uchiha—”

“It will be a quick battle. The Sand Shinobi do not stand a chance against Kisame. Even Deidara, who at this moment is more preoccupied with you, cannot defeat him. And even if he could,” Itachi’s eyes flash, “I have bested him before.”

Sakura knew this already from the preview, and she can’t help the shudder that runs up her spine, but she clenches her fists stubbornly, “That was before.”

“Surrender, and I may spare you this fate,” Itachi warns solemnly. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Sakura scoffs, and she’s a little satisfied to earn a blink of surprise. “Kill me so I can respawn and land an earth shattering punch right to your stupidly chiseled jaw.” 

If he’s registered anything she said as not making sense, it doesn’t show outright on his face, but a piercing noise rings throughout the forest. With it, the black and white scenery splits, lines of code appearing at the seams in bursts of zeros and ones. Sakura falls to the ground, the bindings of her cross disappearing, and she whirls around, terrified that she’s broken the game. 

Itachi’s stoic expression melts into plain confusion, and before them, amongst the zeros and ones, a scene from Sakura’s earliest memories appears in normal coloring. It’s her childhood birthday party, a young Itachi Uchiha holding a pristine looking cake out for her to blow out the candles. Sasuke claps impatiently for cake and his mother affectionately ruffles his hair. They sing to her and Sakura blows out her candles. Mikoto, the Uchiha boys’ mother, winks and announces that Itachi has been working for weeks to perfect making strawberry shortcake just for her party. 

“Mom!” Itachi whines, face stricken with a sheepish grimace.

“Thank you,” little Sakura beams, “my favorite!” 

This Itachi clearly recognizes his own family, even if he didn’t know any of Sakura’s family at the party. Even if he doesn’t exist there, not this Itachi who murdered most of the very people he just watched scattered in Sakura’s backyard, that’s undeniably him and undeniably his family. “What is this?” Itachi asks Sakura, his face ashen.

The scene changes, and any rebuttal Sakura has regarding her innocence dies on her lips as the memory overtakes his own genjutsu. Instead, an older Itachi—well, a few years younger than this one, since she can clearly remember this embarrassing moment from high school—appears. “It wasn’t a secret,” high school Sakura says, scuffing her shoe along the concrete. “We just weren’t ready to tell our families. It’s new, you know? Sorry you had to find out that way.” She gives an awkward, short laugh.

“Oh, no,” that Itachi says with his usual seriousness, looking up from his tumbler cup of coffee to give her a tight lipped smile, “it was a surprise, but you two are my favorite people. I’m happy for you, Sakura.” 

“You’re the best, Itachi,” Sakura says sheepishly, relief evident in her smile. “No more making out on the couch, scout’s honor.” 

The real Sakura blanches. Why is she remembering this? 

That Itachi chuckles softly, eyes flickering back down to his cup, “You’re not a scout.” 

“Stop this,” the game’s Itachi snaps at her, his fingers darting to curl dangerously around her neck. “What have you done to my genjutsu?” 

“Dude,” Sakura wheezes, kicking around him sharply, “you’re the one doing this!” Isn’t he? She lands a solid kick to his knee, and she can feel herself dissolving into dust, or particles, or whatever makes this place. The fabric of it begins to unwind, fraying at the edges, and then Sakura comes to.

The Itachi before her looks nowhere near as composed as the Itachi who sent her into that—that dream world, his eyes now squinting and strained. It buys enough time, Sakura thinks, for her to get out of the way. Just as she bounds on her feet to put distance between them, an explosion rocks Itachi square in the chest. 

In one fluid movement, she’s snatched by the elbow and positioned behind Deidara so that she’s at the center of their circle of allies—the Sand shinobi facing Kisame on one side and Deidara squares against a staggering Itachi on the other. “Can you stand?” Deidara asks, focusing on the clay spiders forming in his open palms. He doesn’t give Itachi a break, the spiders leaping to singe him as they violently explode in targeted blasts that drive him further back.

“Yes,” Sakura says, focusing on him—Temari has a three-on-one against Kisame and, not that Sakura is much help against experienced fighters, Deidara is going to need her more. “I’m fine!” Did he see her memories? Did he know how Itachi did that?

“He used the mangekyou on you and you’re fine?” Deidara asks incredulously. 

Sakura doesn’t know that word, but she doesn’t have time to press, and instead she draws a kunai knife from her pouch. “It was trippy. I’ll explain later.” 

Itachi tears back, moving so quickly that Sakura can’t see the hand signs forming, but Deidara suspects what’s coming. He forms a substitution, snagging Sakura with him, but not quickly enough to stop the flames of Itachi’s fireball jutsu from singing his right pant leg. 

They reappear behind Itachi, and Deidara levels him with a clay explosive to the back. Sakura almost cries out as he crumples, and in a flash Kisame catches him and they make their escape—if Itachi is down, there went their huge tactical advantage. 

Sakura grits her teeth, choking down her cry for him and reminding herself that the burnt man wasn’t her Itachi—even if it was Sakura’s fault this Itachi was thrown off in the first place. 

Deidara collapses propped against a tree, and Sakura is immediately tending to him. His pant leg is burnt away, the skin of his leg charred terribly. 

Sakura stifles a gag at the smell, focusing on tending to him. 

He pants, pupils wide under half lidded eyes as his fingers reach for her. He grazes her cheek, searching for any indication that she isn’t okay.

“Stop,” Sakura orders, her voice trembling as she tries to call upon her medical knowledge, “stay still and let me help you.” If she’d taken more time, if she’d just studied harder, if she’d been stronger—

“You’re okay, yeah,” Deidara finds his words, palm cupping her cheek. His thumb moves, spreading wetness—is she crying? When did she start crying?

The Sand shinobi rally quickly, maintaining a defensive stance around them as Sakura works. Sakura numbly hopes for a Mini-Game, or something, to come to her but all she has is what she’s already studied. The game gives her nothing. Her mind is blank, her hands hovering uncertainly over his burnt leg, and then she hears his terrible, wet intake of breath as the pain hits him all over again. 

His hand cringes away from her face, and the signs come to her.

She knew what she needed to happen and wills it so, the energy bubbling through her, and she can see it in her mind: bone, muscle, nerves, skin. Her shaky hands steady with newfound purpose, forming the signs and lowering over his skin to radiate soothing green.

There is no visible change, not at the surface, as her chakra seeps deep into the wound. It’s a terrible burn, there’s no denying it. The fire caught him just as they were escaping, and a moment or two longer might have killed them both. Deidara’s breathing steadies, and Sakura’s eyes flicker up to meet his.

She inhales sharply at his expression, his hair pulled back, his face smudged with ash. His eyes are half lidded, but he’s watching her keenly, like he’s afraid to miss a single moment. His jaw is slack, lips parted slightly, and she can see how hard he’s fighting to stay conscious. Her tears run anew when she sees the bright red of his heart meter. “Stay with me,” she says, her voice trembling, “I can’t lose you yet. Not right now.” It can’t be the end, not like this. 

“It’s just a burn,” comes his shaky reply. “It’s just some pain, Sakura. You know I’m stronger than this, yeah. Might pass out for a bit but I’m still kickin’.”

Of course, that wasn’t what she’d meant. The medical ninjutsu isn’t working. Nothing is happening. 

“You should get out of here,” Deidara says solemnly. She assumes he can tell nothing is happening. “Itachi was shaken, but given enough time, they’ll be back.”

“Are you suggesting leaving you?” Temari responds, and her tone isn’t as dismissive of the idea as Sakura wants it to be.

“No!” Rage shoots through her, and she glares at Deidara, “Don’t you dare suggest that again.”

One of the other shinobi volunteers to stay and try to hitch him up so that they could get Sakura out of immediate danger—if the Akatsuki recaptures her, Konohagakure will be exactly where it started, minus a living Deidara to help Sakura escape. The Sand shinobi agree it’s the best course of action to minimize potential casualties. 

“You have to get home,” he insists, his fingers flitting up to slowly graze her jaw. 

“What about you?” Sakura says, her bottom lip trembling. She couldn’t leave him here. The route can’t end like this. She focuses her energy on his leg. If she can just heal his leg, they can keep moving. He doesn’t have to say it.

Deidara heaves a sigh. “Nothing wonderful is meant to last forever.” His thumb traces longingly over her bottom lip as she works, “Go. I’ll get myself out of this somehow, but you have to go. I love you.”

And there it is. 

“I’m not ready to go,” Sakura’s vision goes blurry with her tears. “Please, just stay with me. Just stay. I’m supposed to take you to Konoha. Everything is supposed to be okay.” 

“I’ll find you,” Deidara says, shifting up, grimacing at the pain. “I promise I will, yeah.” 

“I love you too,” Sakura finally says, admitting it, leaning into his shoulder as she numbly hears Temari tell her that they need to go. She knows. Sakura knows it’s time to go. She’s not ready. 

“Let me see you,” Deidara says, smiling weakly at her confession. “To hold me over until I see you again. We made a promise. I’m not going to die.” He tilts her head up to look at him, humming contentedly, “I wish I didn’t make you cry right before we have to part ways. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it up to you a million times over, yeah.” His gaze shifts to the side, “In my bag—”

“I’m not going to take your provisions, Deidara,” Sakura says, sharper than she would’ve liked.

“No, your mug. I kept it. You should take it with you.”

Sakura feels the lump in her throat get bigger. “Keep it. You’re going to return it to me in Konoha, alright? In your new home, with me?”

“Alright,” Deidara smiles at her fondly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, memorizing the texture of it between his fingers, “I’ll take good care of it until I see you again.” 

Sakura can hear his voice, she swears she can still hear his voice, but the warmth of his skin is gone and she wakes up in an empty bed. She cries until Sai can stand it no longer, stepping forward from the shadows, his hands outstretched toward her. 

Sai wraps his arms loosely around her as she weeps. His understanding of the code can only get him so far, and with every shake of her shoulders as the sobs wrack her body, he feels less and less confident that he understands the game script. When she says nothing to him, Sai speaks up uncertainly, “Physical intimacy is meant to help you feel comfort.” 

Sakura shoves him away sharply, turning to face away as he falls from her bed. She lets out a half-strangled noise of protest and anger as she wraps her arms around her knees. 

From the floor, Sai stares at her, frozen with surprise. He analyzes the behavior data for some indication of what he should do—perhaps nothing, perhaps the best course of action would be to leave her alone, but she’s clearly suffering. He doesn’t want her to suffer alone. “Sakura,” he finally says, hesitantly rising to his feet, “I don’t know how to comfort you.”

“Leave me alone!” Sakura snaps at him.

“But—” Sai’s fingers brush her shoulder, “But you’re in distress.”

“Of course I’m in distress,” Sakura twitches away from his touch. “This game is evil and it’s breaking my heart.” 

“You don’t have to play another route right away,” Sai offers. “Stay here, with me. I won’t hurt you.” 

She knows he isn’t real, that his servers or codes or whatever are just trying to interpret her in a logical way. Frustrated, she brings her hands up to her temple. This is a dream, she reminds herself, and if she knows it’s a lucid dream then can’t she—

…

Sakura spends most of the next day misty eyed, trying and failing to remain hidden in a corner of the library.

“Hey,” a voice calls out, far too loud for the study section of the library, “pink hair!” 

Sakura recognizes the voice and panics, not ready for the real world confrontation. She pretends she doesn’t hear him, hoping that he’ll take the hint and go away, but she has no such luck. 

Deidara playfully tugs a lock of her hair, “Oh come on, you’re too cute to be squirreled away up here all by your lonesome! Sakura—Did I remember that right? Sasori told me you almost drowned in his pool.”

“That’s true,” Sakura says, turning in her chair and rubbing the back of her hair, annoyed and hurt at the reminder of the route she’s just lost. “Deidara. Can I help you with something?” 

Deidara squints at her, taken aback, “Are you crying?”

“Yes.” She says, hardly in the mood to be coy about it. 

“Well, that’s no good,” Deidara huffs, puffing out his chest. “Come on. Let’s go forget whatever ass made you cry, yeah?” 

Sakura has to swallow a bitter laugh. It’s you, she wants to tell him. You’re the ass. Well, sort of. “I don’t know if I’m up for it.” 

“Are you sure?” Deidara hums, a mischievous smile on his lips, “Because I’m told impromptu adventure is my specialty.” 

And maybe it’s because she misses that smile, or because this Deidara’s done nothing wrong, but Sakura starts to pack up her books. “Alright,” she says, her hands trembling, “why the hell not?” 

“That’s the spirit,” Deidara beams, the blue eyes she loves bright with mirth.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Three: Zabuza Momochi - Purple Heart

Sakura briefly wonders if she’s a bad person, watching Deidara boisterously complain that the claw machine is rigged as he tries to win her a prize. It’s not like she thinks they’re the same person, she knows this Deidara is just being nice—maybe a little flirty, but he’s certainly not in love with her, and he’s certainly not her Deidara. But still, this close, with that same blond hair tossed in a chaotic bun and the same bright blue eyes, she could pretend for a moment that they were the same. Right? She could pretend he was her Deidara for a minute, and she hasn’t lost everything, again. Is that really so terrible?

“Yes!” Deidara shocks her from the thought. 

Sakura, for the briefest of moments, had the absurd thought that he’d read her mind. Her heart hammers in her chest and, wide eyed, she watches him for clarification.

Deidara pulls a prize from the drop box, offering it out to her proudly: a stuffed white rabbit, with big floppy ears. “Here, for you, yeah.” He grins, holding it out for her.

“Thank you,” Sakura says, taking the rabbit and holding it comfortably against her torso. She smiles, trying to force herself to relax.

“You’re welcome!” He loops his arm through hers, pulling her toward the back of the arcade he’d led her to. “Want to play air hockey? I’m terrible,” Deidara says, like an incentive to play.

“Sure,” Sakura chuckles, “I’ll see your terrible and raise you ‘I’ve never played.” 

Deidara inhales sharply, feigning horror, “We’ll have to fix that pronto.” He drops her off to claim the air hockey table while it was empty—it’s a surprise, Sakura thinks, that an arcade in a college town doesn’t do better business. It seems like fun. He goes over to the token machine, about to change over some more of his money for tokens—he’d lost a lot already trying to win her the bunny. 

He returns, stuffing a pile of tokens into his pocket.

“Let me pay you back for some of those,” Sakura says, grabbing her air hockey paddle.

“Nah,” Deidara scoffs. “I’m here enough that this place has plenty of my money already. A few more dollars won’t break the bank. Besides, the owner’s a friend, and he’s let us all play hundreds of free rounds when he’s here.” 

“Wow,” Sakura muses, “that’s pretty nice of him.”

“Nagato’s a nice guy,” Deidara readies his paddle. “Besides, this place would probably make more money if all his friends weren’t always here.”

“What, it’s not like you beat up the kids,” Sakura starts, the knowledge that game Deidara’s a literal terrorist making her uncertainly add, “right?”

“Ah, Hidan’s kind of an asshole, and Kisame’s huge—nice guy, scary at first glance.” Deidara shrugs, grabbing the disc and launching it to start the game. “But we’re all close, so he’s got no complaints, you know what I mean?”

Sakura blocks his shot roughly, the disc whirling back and out of her range. “You all sound like such good friends.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love those losers,” Deidara darts to slam the disc back to her, sinking it in Sakura’s goal. He gives her a sheepish smile, “One-Zip. Guess beginner’s luck isn’t in your favor, hm?” 

“Oh,” Sakura chuckles, riled up at his teasing as she gathers the disc from her goal, “I’m just getting warmed up, I’m gonna—”

“Sakura?”

She’s surprised to hear Itachi’s voice, whirling around to see him and Konan mainlining toward them from the entrance. Without thinking, and completely without regarding the series of events since the school year began, Sakura blurts, “Oh, hey, guys! Are you on a date?”

Konan coughs to stifle her laugh, “No! God, no.” She squints at Deidara, brows raised, “Are you two on a date?” 

Not really, Sakura muses. Just hanging out by chance. She opens her mouth to respond, when Deidara answers first.

“No,” Deidara says, a little on the defensive, which surprises Sakura, “we met in the library and I asked her to hang out. But not really a date, you know?”

Itachi’s eyes noticeably drift to the stuffed bunny, sitting on the scoreboard of the air hockey table. She’s reminded of the most recent glitch in the game, of Itachi telling her that he’s happy for her, and starts to feel… weird. 

Something about it, about the too-collected expression on his face at finding his brother’s ex-girlfriend on a maybe date with someone he clearly knew well, makes Sakura uncomfortable. Why does she feel guilty? Is it because Itachi might, if they’re even talking again, tell Sasuke? But then again, what does she care what he thinks of her? He’s already snuggled up with—with—God, the thought of it pisses her off.

Sensing the tension, Konan announces, “We’re waiting for Sasori, Yahiko, and Kisame and we saw you two in the back. Nice to see you again, Sakura. Glad you made it home safe.”

Grateful for the change in subject, Sakura sets the disc down, shooting Konan a grateful smile, “Yes, nice to see you too! Sorry about all the trouble.” Looking to Deidara for confirmation, she starts the round. With a few rounds of back and forth, this one’s her point. 

When Sakura earns the two points, bringing her to three of the seven necessary to win and the overall score to 1-3 in her favor, Konan nudges Itachi forward. “He’s got the next game, I’ll go after.” Itachi looks back at her like he’s going to protest, but Konan shoves his shoulder and he doesn’t say a word. 

At a final score of 7-3, Sakura moves to hand off her paddle to Itachi, cracking what she hopes is a friendly smile and not an awkward grimace, “Avenge me.” After all, in Deidara’s route, she’d just seen him—not him him, but it’s all pretty muddled in her mind at this point—get terribly injured. 

Itachi takes the paddle from her, their fingertips brushing, and he nods too solemnly for the situation. 

Deidara readies the disc, “Alright, motherfucker, you’re going down—” He yelps when Konan jabs him in the side, and rubs his ribs grumpily.

“You know, I actually think it’s getting pretty late, don’t you?” Konan says, looking Deidara in the eyes.

“It’s not even dark yet—”

“But the sun will set soon, right?” Konan waits, as if daring him to contradict her. “Besides, it would be easiest to walk Sakura home before everyone gets here, don’t you think?”  

“Sure,” Deidara huffs, setting the paddle down. “Fine, I’ll—”

Konan grabs his arm, “Actually, you and I have to discuss the art club’s Halloween plans. There’s some last minute details to talk about. But luckily for us,” she turns, shooting Sakura a faux innocent smile, “Itachi can walk you home, right Sakura?” 

Sakura blinks, looking between the pair and trying to figure out what was going on. “I can just go by myself. You guys are waiting for other people, right?” 

“Nonsense,” Konan shakes her head. “Let Itachi make sure you get there safely. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do, don’t you agree?” 

Sakura thought she heard Itachi hiss something, but when she turns to him, his face is as stoic and composed as ever. “Alright, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t imposing,” Itachi says quietly. “It’s my friends who are being pushy.” 

Sakura glances back between Konan and Deidara, as the former quietly lectures the latter. She gathers her bag and the newly won stuffed rabbit, wondering what’s up with Konan. Oh! She sneakily turns back, eyeing the pair they were leaving behind once more. Well, Konan had asked if they were on a date, right? Maybe she’s into Deidara and wants some alone time before all their friends get here. Smiling with her secret suspicion, she says her goodbyes and hurries out, pulling Itachi along by the arm.

“How long has Konan been into Deidara?” Sakura asks conspiratorially on their walk back to campus, as they’re paused and waiting for a stoplight to change so they can cross the street.

Itachi chokes on his laugh, caught off guard before he stifles it, “Konan isn’t interested in Deidara.”

“Are you sure? I thought I sensed something there,” Sakura hums with delight as the light turns and they start to cross.

“No, definitely not,” Itachi scoffs. “Konan can’t stand most of us. She really only likes Nagato and Yahiko. They grew up together.” 

“Alright, alright,” Sakura brushes it off. “My intuition has always been trash, anyway.”

Itachi says nothing to that, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

Sakura blathers on about her courses, Itachi quietly chiming in when appropriate, but he’s noticeably quiet when she mentions some of her newfound friendships. “Uh,” Sakura slows to a stop near the entrance to her dorm, “did I say something wrong? I’m not imagining it, right? Something’s weird?”

“No,” Itachi reaches up to rub the back of his neck, “not at all. It’s just strange to hear you talking about other guys, when…”

“Oh,” Sakura blanches, embarrassed. “Oh! They’re all just regular friends, y’know? I’m not dating.” Quickly, she clarifies, “I’m not ready to date. But sorry! That probably comes off wrong when I was just dating Sasuke, I should’ve kept in mind I was talking to his brother.”

“It’s not like that,” Itachi starts, averting his eyes. “You should say whatever’s on your mind. It’ll just take some getting used to, you two not being together anymore.” He changes on a dime, sending her a playful smirk, “Who gets your mother’s Thanksgiving macaroni and cheese in the divorce?” 

Sakura gasps sharply, whacking him in the shoulder, “Shut up! You have to smuggle me Aunt Rin’s apple pie or I’ll die.” 

“I’ll bring you apple pie if you bring me the macaroni,” Itachi offers.

“Deal!” Sakura crosses her arms, pleased. “Don’t you dare share with Sasuke. He’s on my shit list.” 

“We still aren’t talking, so that won’t be a problem,” Itachi admits, visibly deflating.

Sakura tilts her head sympathetically, “Oh, ‘Tachi, I’m sorry to hear that. I’d offer to talk to him for you, but…”

“Don’t,” Itachi mumbles.

Sakura pauses, caught off guard. She thought he was going to ask her to.

“He’s an idiot.” Itachi clarifies, before reaching out to ruffle her hair. “We’ll figure our own shit out. You have a good night, I should probably get back.”

Sakura flushes, hands moving to smooth her hair, “Hey!” As she pats it down, she chuckles, “You too! Go have fun.”

In her dorm, she settles on the bed. She opens her phone and is surprised to find the Root app updating again. She goes to her settings to check the update and sees: Mug patch. The mug she left with Deidara? Well, maybe Sai had to give it to him in the lobby, since it was a route item. Is that how it worked? She’d have to ask him—Sakura swallows that bitter thought. She really didn’t want to see Sai right now, not after she’d pushed him away when he’d really done nothing wrong. It made her feel childish and guilty, and then stupid, because he’s not real. 

If she picks a route, she would skip the lobby to avoid him, and be one step closer to earning her Act Twos. Right? She opens the app once it’s loaded. Just as she goes to click it, it starts to update again. Scrunching her face in annoyance, Sakura goes to check the updates again, and it’s a different patch with the same name. What’s the mug patch? 

She goes back to the app, and this time it lets her enter. Without thinking about it, she clicks for a random route, reads the name, and settles in for bed. She doesn’t want to think about it, she doesn’t want to dwell on a preview, the thought of the ‘l’ word in itself made her want to gag at the moment. She sets her stuffed bunny in the corner of the bed.

Sakura forces her eyes closed, ready to accept whatever fate had in store for her. She’s never heard of him: Zabuza Momochi. 

…

“Over there,” Naruto whispers, jolting Sakura into the route, all three of them hidden behind a cluster of trees.

Sakura glances around, confused. Where exactly had the game dropped her this time? In the middle of somewhere dangerous? An actual mission? She darts forward, claiming a tree for cover and standing, alert. She realizes she’s wearing a full on dress—probably not the best ninja attire, but at least she has compression shorts underneath—and that her hair is long again. Distracted, she takes a moment to touch it, remembering Gaara’s fingers running through it. She wonders if Deidara would like her long hair. She shakes off the thought.

“What’s your distance from the target?” Kakashi’s voice flickers in her earpiece.

“Five meters,” Naruto responds. “I’m ready. Just give the signal.”

Sakura glances around, searching for an enemy within five meters. Target, huh? An assassination? A kidnapping? What serious shinobi business did this route drop her into?

“I’m ready too,” Sasuke adds.

Wait, what’s the signal? Who’s the target? “So am I,” Sakura bluffs, eyes narrow, ready to jump into the fray.

“Okay,” Kakashi says, and then after a pause, he announces, “now!” 

Sakura converges on the same position as Naruto and Sasuke, Naruto desperately grabbing hold of a—Sakura comes short, bewildered. A cat?

Naruto clings to a yowling brown cat, a red ribbon tied around the frantic feline’s ear. “I got him, I got him!” He shouts.

“Can you verify a ribbon, right ear?” Kakashi calls through the earpieces, still out of sight, as the cat breaks free to scratch at a wailing Naruto.

Sakura stands overhead with absolutely no clue what the hell is going on. The cat’s the target? This is important ninja work?

“Affirmative, we got a positive ID,” Sasuke says nonchalantly, ignoring the scene.

“Right. Lost pet Torah captured,” Kakashi announces their supposed mission is a success. “Mission accomplished.”

“Can’t we get a better mission than this?” Naruto bellows over the radio, “I hate cats!” 

They lug the wailing cat back through the village, where a devastated Torah is reunited with his smothering owner, who practically crushes the poor thing in her embrace. “Oh, my poor little Torah. Mommy was so worried about her naughty little fuzzykins, yes.”

Naruto guffaws, “Stupid cat. That kitty deserves to be squashed.” 

“No wonder he ran away,” Sakura muses, horrified as the woman continues to mutter to her distraught cat. 

“Now then,” the Hokage distracts Sakura from the scene with the cat, “for Squad Seven’s next mission...” He glances over a piece of paper, a pipe wedged at the corner of his mouth. “We have several available tasks. Hmm… Among them: babysitting the chief counselor’s three-year-old, helping his wife to do the shopping, digging up potatoes, and—”

“No-o-o,” Naruto wails, emphatically waving his hands, “I wanna go on a real mission! Something challenging and exciting, not this little kid stuff. Come on, old man!”

Sakura squints, confused. Babysitting? Aren’t they, like, actual soldiers, licensed to kill and all that jazz? Who rents out a super soldier to dig up their potatoes? Sakura can’t help but agree, but Naruto’s such a pain, making a huge fuss in front of the leader of the village, that Sakura can’t help but feel mortified. 

Kakashi audibly sighs behind them. 

“How dare you?!” A man seated beside the Hokage, with a ponytail of thick brown hair and a thin scar horizontally slit across his face—Iruka, their teacher from the academy and a Chunin, according to a text box—slams his hands on the table and leaps to his feet. “You’re just a brand-new Genin with no experience. Like everyone else, you start with simple missions to develop your skills and prove yourself!”

“Are you serious?!” Naruto bellows right back, “Babysitting is not a mission! It’s just a stupid—” He yelps and falls to the floor as Kakashi hits him in the back of the head.

“Will you put a lid on it?” Kakashi says flatly.

“Naruto,” the Hokage starts.

The blond wails, sitting on the floor and clutching at the back of his head. 

“It seems you do not understand the tasks you have been given.”

Sakura quirks a brow, since she thought babysitting is hardly qualified ninja practice. So, this is well before the Chunin exam—sure, she was new here, but no wonder she didn’t know how to do shit until Gaara came along. Gaara definitely did not spend his days fresh from the academy chasing cats.

“Listen, many different kinds of requests come into our village everyday. From babysitting to assassinations—” The Hokage continues, holding out his pipe.

It seems to Sakura that the same office probably shouldn’t be fielding those requests, since they weren’t similar at all, let alone the Hokage personally doling out babysitting missions, but whatever—

“These requests are carefully recorded, analyzed, then ranked A, B, C, or D, depending on their difficulty. We ninja are also ranked by ability: Hokage at the top, Jonin, Chunin, and Genin at the bottom.” Sarutobi continues, gesturing to the papers on his desk. “At the highest level, we select the missions and assign them to ninja who have the appropriate skill and experience.”

Alright, Sakura sighs. She gets it. It’s like the shitty work once she’ll start at a hospital, in the future. Still, the idea of any of the Sand siblings reduced to babysitting work is… entertaining, to say the least. The Hokage is still talking, something about the village getting paid—yeah, yeah, everything boils down to money—but Naruto begins to discuss lunch from the floor, drawing Sakura’s attention. Chasing cats is hungry work. 

“So, I had this tonkotsu ramen yesterday, and I’m thinking miso ramen today—”

“Silence!” The Hokage bellows. 

“Oh,” Kakashi rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “sorry.” Figures, he isn’t very authoritative in this world either. 

“Ugh,” Naruto groans, turning back to face the old man, “you always lecture me like you’re my grandfather or something. But I’m not the little brat who used to pull pranks all the time. I’m a ninja now, and I want a ninja mission.” He huffs, turning back away, which is a little bratty, but the point still stands. She doesn’t know anything about the pranks, but anything has to be more interesting than babysitting.

“Hmm,” Kakashi groans, “I’m going to hear about this later.” 

The Hokage chuckles, “Naruto wants us to know that he’s not a brat, he’s a former brat, and he wants a mission. So be it.”

“Huh?” The trio of Genin perks up. Knowing how cold and calculating the Hokage can be, Sakura wonders where this is going.

“Since you are so determined, I’m going to give you a C-ranked mission. You’ll be bodyguards on a journey.” He looks so smug that Sakura wonders what the catch is.

Alright, game. Sakura smirks. She sees where this is going. Zabuza is going to be her client, and he’ll fall in love with her as they escort him to wherever he needs to go.

“Really? Yes!” Naruto brightens. “Who? Who? Are we guarding a princess? Or some big-wig counselor?”

“Don’t be so impatient. I’ll bring him in now.” The Hokage calls out. “Send in our visitor.”

They all turn and the door slowly opens, revealing an elderly man holding a bottle of liquor that she could smell from here. “What the—?” He grumbles, “A bunch of little snot-nosed kids?” He starts to frantically gulp his drink as Squad Seven stares at him, bewildered. Is this guy fucking serious? Once done, he belches and leans against the wall.

Er, Sakura cringes. Not Zabuza, God. Please, no. He goes on to taunt Naruto, and it’s pretty evident why the Hokage was looking so smug—this guy’s an asshole. Kakashi is busy breaking up a potential fight as Sakura rubs her forehead in irritation. 

“I am Tazuna—” So, not Zabuza, thank you God, “a master bridge builder, and I must return to my country. I’m building a bridge there that will change our world, and I expect you to get me there safely, even if it means giving up your life.”

Sure, good deal. Sakura respawns if she dies. 

Once the paperwork is finalized, the team scatters to gather their supplies and the next morning, they meet to depart toward the Land of Waves. As they leave, Naruto begins to cheer, and Sakura asks him, a teasing smile on her lips, “What are you so excited about Naruto?”

“This is the first time I’ve ever left the village. I’m a traveler now, believe it.” Naruto looks around eagerly, even though many of the training grounds are beyond the gate, and this road itself isn’t exactly major sightseeing. Still, it’s the sentiment that counts. 

Sakura figures this version of her hasn’t done much traveling—though between her routes, she’s seen quite a bit of unusual scenery, from the Forest of Death to the Akatsuki lair and its surroundings. 

“Hey, am I supposed to trust my life to this idiot?” Tazuna complains to Kakashi. “He’s a joke.” 

Kakashi chuckles to try and ease the mood, his hands stuffed in his pockets, “He’s with me and I’m a Jonin, so you don’t need to worry.” 

Naruto’s clearly aggravated, ranting about how he’ll be the Hokage, and they continue to bicker until they can finally get going. 

They walk and walk until Sakura feels like she might drop dead of boredom. “Say, Mr. Tazuna,” Sakura starts, trying to be polite so she doesn’t set him off, “your country is the Land of Waves, right?”

“Yeah, what of it?” Tazuna responds sourly anyway.

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura brushes Tazuna and his nasty attitude off, “there are ninja in that country too, aren’t there?” 

“No, there are no ninja in the Land of Waves. But in other countries, there are hidden villages, each with their own different customs and cultures, where ninja reside.” Kakashi starts to explain, and Sakura cringes.

Damn it, she’s only trying to guess where she’ll meet Zabuza, not earn a lecture that she could read about on the app. She knows there are ninja from other villages. She’s intimately aware of that fact, actually, considering she’s had whirlwind romances with two of them. He keeps talking about the functions of the Five Shinobi Nations, and the natural barriers that protect the Land of Waves, and Sakura starts to zone out. “Then Lord Hokage is really important,” Sakura says vaguely, feigning enthusiasm. Is that old man really such a big deal? She’s not buying it. Sure, he’s smart, a tad conniving even, but how powerful could he really be? 

“Hey!” Kakashi snaps her out of her thoughts. “You all just doubted Lord Hokage, didn’t you? That’s what you were thinking.”

Not used to Kakashi with a severe tone, Sakura flounders, and she and Naruto shake their heads. 

Surprising her, Kakashi pats her on the head and goes on, “Well, anyway, there are no ninja battles in a C-ranked mission, so you can relax.” 

Testing, Sakura goes on, “And we’re not going to run into any foreign enemy ninja or anything like that.”

Kakashi chuckles, in a pleasant mood again, “Not likely.” 

He thinks he’s assured her, but Sakura is busy trying to figure out where the hell she’d meet the love interest then. A civilian? In this ninja dating game? They continue onward, moving with steady determination throughout the day, until a flash of movement from behind catches them all off guard.

“What?” Kakashi calls back, the enemy already overhead, swinging from some sort of metal chain that rattles throughout the air. Before Sakura can even blink, he’s caught in it, the spikes digging into his clothes.

“Huh?” Sakura blanches, not processing the scene before her, and in a sudden flash the two enemy ninja yank their chains and rip Kakashi apart. Sakura watches, her mouth agape in horror, before she reels back and screams. 

Naruto cries out for their squad leader, the enemy ninja appearing behind him in a flash. 

Before Sakura can even think, Sasuke intervenes, using a throwing star and a kunai to pin their joint weapon. He lands right on their gauntlet covered arms, kicking them in the face. 

The enemy breaks free, and one of them lunges for Naruto, while the other launches straight for—Shit! Sakura knows she had to stop them, brandishing a kunai knife of her own and leaping in front of Tazuna, “Stay behind me!” 

Sasuke darts in front of her, ready to take the blow, but they’re both saved in the form of none other than Kakashi, catching the shinobi in the crook of his elbow with enough force to render him unconscious—or maybe even dead.

“Hi,” Kakashi says casually.

Relieved, and full of disbelief, Sakura beams. Kakashi goes on to criticize Naruto, while praising Sasuke and Sakura, while she focuses on the technique he’d used. That replacement jutsu was so smooth, she didn’t even see it. Alright, clearly her teacher isn’t the same incompetent idiot her counselor is in the real world. That was, Sakura flushes, so cool! 

Sakura’s fangirling comes to an end when she overhears Kakashi warning Naruto about the poison in his bloodstream from the injury. She deflates, feeling self-conscious. Maybe she can try medical ninjutsu again…? Sakura thinks of Deidara, and her failure to help him when he was suffering. She’s distracted as Kakashi interrogates the enemy ninja, wondering if anything would be different if she tried again.

“How did you know about our ambush?” One of the Mist Chunin asks, tied with the other to a tree.

“A puddle on a clear day, when it hasn’t rained in weeks?” Kakashi says flatly.

Sakura blinks at the realization. Of course, she chastises herself, how could she have missed that? 

Tazuna starts to criticize Kakashi for letting the Genin fight, but Kakashi nips it in the bud, “I could have taken them out quickly, but then I’d have learned nothing. I had to know who their target was… and what they were after.”

Oh. Oh! Sakura swivels with the understanding. Right. They went for the Jonin first, obviously, to use the element of surprise to take out their most dangerous opponent, and then moved to divide the team by lunging for Naruto and Tazuna. Naruto, of course, made sense since he was one of the shinobi, but Tazuna? Why attack a civilian immediately, if they weren’t the target the whole time? 

“I wanted to know if they were after us, ninja attacking ninja, or if they were after you, the master bridge builder,” Kakashi’s voice is heavy with the accusation. “When you put in your request, you asked for standard protection… from robbers and highwaymen. You didn’t say there were ninja looking for you, hunting you down. If we knew this, it would be a B-ranked mission or higher. Our task was simply to get you to your destination and protect you while you finished building your bridge. If we knew we’d be fielding attacks from enemy ninja, we would have staffed differently and charged for the cost of a B-mission. Apparently you have your reasons, but lying to us is not acceptable. We are now beyond the scope of this mission.”

Sakura has to give the game props—this is some juicy drama, even if she isn’t sure where it’s headed. Alright, she admits to herself, maybe she should’ve been a little less childish and watched the damn preview. “We’re Genin. This is too advanced for our level of training. We should go back,” Sakura adds, invested and waiting for the backstory, but worried she can’t do anything to help her teammate, “and I really think we need to treat Naruto’s wound and get the poison out as soon as possible. Back in our village, we can take him to a doctor.” Deidara comes to mind, injured, suffering. 

Kakashi begins to concede, but Naruto grits his teeth and surprises everyone by wedging a kunai into his open wound. 

“Naruto,” Sakura darts forward, eyes wide at the blood, “stop that! What are you doing?” 

Naruto bemoans his hard work and lack of significant progress—and Sakura certainly understands the frustration, but come on. “I will never back down again and let someone else rescue me. I will never run away. And I will not lose to Sasuke. Upon this wound, I make this pledge, believe it. Bridge builder, I’ll complete this mission and protect you with this kunai knife. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine”

I’ll be fine, Sakura inwardly scoffs, talk about some famous last words while he bleeds out all over the forest.

“Naruto, uh, that was really cool how you took the poison out and all,” Kakashi muses, “but if you lose any more blood, you’re going to die.”

Naruto begins to panic and Sakura watches over them as Kakashi readies to take a look at the wound.

“Naruto,” Sakura scoffs, “you’ve got a self-abusive personality. It’s called masochism.” She has to admit, though. The drive is charming, even if he’s a bit dense. 

Sakura is so sick of walking, the boat becomes a pleasant change of pace—except for the terrible fog. “The fog’s so thick, you can’t see anything,” she complains, partially to Sasuke, but mostly to herself. Sure, she has beef with real world Sasuke right now—but this one jumped in to save her from metal-glove-man, so he’s alright. Even with his irritating, cheating face. She averts her eyes. Look at the fog, Sakura. Focus on beating the route.

“The bridge isn’t far now,” their ferryman announces. “Our destination’s just ahead, the Land of Waves.” So he says, but they can’t see anything for quite a while, until they pull up to the bridge construction site. Naruto exclaims, and the ferryman chastises him for making noise when they’re clearly trying to be stealthy. 

“Mr. Tazuna,” Kakashi says sternly, “before we reach the pier, I want to ask you something. The men who are after you, I need to know why. If you don’t tell us, I’m afraid I’ll have to end this mission when we drop you ashore.” 

Sakura knows that, following game logic, the bridge builder is probably in danger because he’s… building the bridge. Though, and she stifles a chuckle because of the tense atmosphere, wouldn’t it be funny if he had huge gambling debts or he’s really some wanted maniac or something?

“I have no choice but to tell you—” Tazuna starts, and Sakura preps herself for some sweet, sweet exposition. “No, I want you to know the truth.”

Sakura quirks a brow. Liar, but go on.

“Like you said, this is beyond the scope of the original mission. The one who seeks my life is a very short man who casts a very long and deadly shadow.”

“A deadly shadow?” Kakashi repeats back to him. When Tazuna only grunts in affirmation, Kakashi goes on, “Mm. Who is it?”

“You know him. At least, I’m sure you’ve heard his name before. He’s one of the wealthiest men in the world: the shipping magnet, Gato,” Tazuna clarifies.

“Huh? Gato, of Gato Transport?” Kakashi asks. Well, it would only make sense. “He’s a business leader, everyone knows him.”

Thankfully, Naruto is just as clueless as Sakura.

“Gato is a very powerful tycoon from a famous company, that’s true, but below the surface, with the same ruthless methods he uses to take over businesses and nations, he sells drugs and contraband using gangs and ninja,” Tazuna explains. “It was one year ago when Gato first set his sight on the Land of Waves. He came to our island and used his vast wealth to take total control of our transport and shipping. Anyone who tried to stand in his way simply disappeared. In an island nation, a man who controls the sea controls everything: finance, government, our very lives. But there’s one thing he fears: the bridge. When it is complete, it will join us to the land and that will break his control. I am the bridge builder.”

“So that’s it,” Sakura blurts, “since you’re in charge of the bridge, you’re standing in this gangster’s way.” Alright, so she’s never met a real kingpin, but wouldn’t it be easier to just blow up the bridge once he was done and his shinobi escort’s gone? Is hiring assassins really the cheaper, less time consuming option? 

“That means those guys we fought in the forest, they were working for Gato,” Sasuke adds.

Yes, Sakura restraints herself from being mean. Thanks for catching up, Sasuke.

“I don’t understand,” Kakashi muses. “If you knew he was dangerous, knew he’d send ninja to eliminate you, why did you hide that from us?”

“Because the Land of Waves is a small, impoverished nation. Even our nobles have little money. The common people who are building this bridge, they can’t pay for an A or B ranked mission. It’s too expensive. If you end the mission when you drop me ashore, there will be no bridge,” Tazuna warns. “They’ll assassinate me before I reach home.” His mood shifts, feigning cheerful resignation, “But don’t feel bad about that. Of course, my sweet little grandson will be upset. He’ll cry,” he pitches his head back, raising his voice a few octaves, “‘Granddad! I want my Granddad!” 

Sakura groans. Seriously? The ninja villages don’t have some sort of pro-bono service to stop evil capitalists from taking over the world? Then again, they’re being paid for this—are they evil capitalists too?

“Oh, and my daughter will condemn the ninja of the Hidden Leaves, denouncing and blaming you for leaving her father and living her life in sorrow.” 

The trio groans in unison.

“Oh well, it’s not your fault. Forget it.”

Kakashi joins in on their groaning, before he says, “Well, I guess we have no other choice. We’ll have to keep guarding you.”

“Oh,” Tazuna says with reserved smugness, “I’m very grateful.”

The ferryman, who, Sakura can’t help but notice, was fine with Tazuna making whatever noise he wanted while telling his story, pulls them up to the shore. They emerge into the village through a tunnel, the fog clearing to reveal squat wooden shacks along the pier. He departs after dropping them off, now safe to use his engine. 

The group starts to head across the island, leading Tazuna toward his home. Naruto darts ahead, scouting, and tosses a kunai into the brush. The group jumps, startled, and after a pause, Naruto shrugs it off, “Hm, it was just a mouse.” 

“Mouse? Yeah, right!” Sakura grumbles, annoyed, “Everyone can see through your stupid act. You’re so obvious, it’s embarrassing!” 

Kakashi and Tazuna take a turn chastising him for showing off and frightening everyone, but Naruto, oblivious to it, continues to search for an enemy presence. Naruto tosses another knife into the bushes.

“That’s it, Naruto,” Sakura growls, whacking him in the back of the head. Seriously, is he trying to give her a heart attack? The Naruto in the Chunin Exam wasn’t half the brat this one is, showing off at everyone else’s expense. From cutting his own hand to casually throwing weapons around, this Naruto isn’t nearly as cool as the one she watched compete.

“Wha—? Why’d you do that?” Naruto complains, holding his head, “Someone really is following us, I mean it!” 

“Yeah, right.” Sakura snaps at him, “Quit lying and acting like a dumb kid.” She turns toward Kakashi, who went to investigate, and gasps, “Naruto, look what you did!” 

Naruto fusses over the rabbit, petrified under the kunai wedged behind it in a tree, and coddles it in an apology.

What a cute white bunny, Sakura huffs. How could Naruto be so flippant with deadly knives? It reminds her of the stuffed bunny from—Wait, that’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it?

“Look out!” Kakashi suddenly cries out, and a hulking mass of steel comes flying through the air. They all fall to the ground as the object, a huge blade, lodges into a tree.

Before she can even blink, there’s a man standing on the blade, his back turned to them. He turns, side profile glaring at them harshly. They all quickly rise to their feet, a fight brewing. Sakura squints. This guy, it has to be—

“Well, well,” Kakashi announces, “if it isn’t Zabuza Momochi, rogue ninja from the village hidden in the mist.”

Bingo! Sakura beams, trying to get a better look. A missing nin like Deidara then? But… what the hell is he wearing?

Naruto starts to dart forward, but Kakashi stops him, quietly admonishing, “You’re in the way. Get back.”

“But why?” Naruto protests.

“He’s not like those other ninja. He’s in a whole other league. If he’s our opponent, I’ll need this.” Kakashi grips his headband, beginning to pull it up, and Sakura watches with piqued interest. Of course, she knows what her counselor looks like, but the buildup is tense.

“Kakashi of the Sharingan Eye. Did I get that right? It’s too bad, huh?” Zabuza says, beginning to turn toward them, “But you’ll have to hand over the old man.” 

Wait a minute. The Sharingan is the Uchiha thing. Sakura looks between Kakashi and Sasuke—Are they… related? They definitely aren’t in real life, but maybe here? 

“Now quick, Manji formation!” Kakashi announces, “Protect the bridge builder and stay out of this fight.” Shit, she doesn’t know what the Manji formation is. “I taught you teamwork. Now it’s time to use it.” 

No one moves. Sakura glances between her teammates, looking for guidance and ready to follow their lead. Do they not know what the Manji formation is either? 

Kakashi lifts his headband, revealing one red eye—Sakura can’t see it from here, but she’s already seen the Sharingan, so she can assume. “I’m ready,” she fibs. Sasuke’s eyes shift to the Sharingan, so how could Kakashi have a single one that he keeps hidden?

“Well, looks like I get to see the Sharingan in action,” Zabuza announces. “This is an honor.”

Sakura listens keenly to Sasuke’s explanation, hoping to earn some insider information that could help with her next Itachi encounter, and gains a new word for it: doujutsu, a visual jutsu, and it allows the user to replicate various jutsus and use them against their opponent. 

Just as Sasuke starts to say there’s more to it than that, and Sakura starts to hope for the scoop on whatever the hell Itachi did with her memories, Zabuza interjects, “You got it right, boy. But you only scratched the surface. The Sharingan can analyze an opponent’s technique, and then copy it to the smallest detail.” 

Sakura squints. Wasn’t that… pretty much exactly what Sasuke said, in different words? Damn you, exposition, do something interesting. 

“As for you Jonin, in the assassination unit of the hidden mist, we had a standing order to destroy you on sight. Your profile was in our Bingo Book.” Zabuza continues, “It called you ‘the man who copied over a thousand jutsu.’ Kakashi, the copy ninja.”

Kakashi? This Kakashi? Could he really be so famous? 

The pair stares down, Zabuza perched on his sword handle, and Sakura notices the fog feels heavier than it had previously. Naruto fawns over Kakashi, but the atmosphere stays tense.

“Enough talking,” Zabuza squats down, prepped to dart forward, “I need to exterminate the old man. Now.”

Naruto and Sasuke dart toward Tazuna, and Sakura follows suit, a kunai knife in her hand. Alright. Action time. She can do this. She’s fought other ninja before. Sure, never the love interest—Is Zabuza really going to hurt her? One glance at that behemoth of a sword and Sakura can’t help but be nervous. 

“So, I’ll have to eliminate you first, eh Kakashi? So be it.” In a flash, he leapt to the side and pulled the sword cleanly out of the tree with him. 

“He’s over there!” Naruto draws their attention.

“Standing on the water!” Sakura calls out, shocked. They can do that? Can she do that? Sure, a building is a solid surface, but water? 

Zabuza holds a hand sign near his face, his other arm outstretched as droplets of water swarm around him in a spiral. Suddenly, they’re enveloped in a mist so thick that Sakura could barely see Kakashi in front of her, let alone Zabuza. 

“He vanished,” Naruto announces. 

Kakashi starts to walk forward, and when Sakura quietly calls out for him, he announces, “He’ll come after me first.”

“But who is he?” Sakura asks, eyes scanning the mist as she prods for more exposition. 

“Zabuza Momochi, the ex-leader of the Hidden Mist Assassination Unit. He’s a master of the silent killing technique.” Well, that doesn’t sound promising. “As the name suggests, it happens in an instant, without sound or warning of any kind. It’s so fast, you pass from this life without realizing what has happened. The Sharingan cannot fully neutralize it, so don’t lower your guard.” 

Geez. Sakura shudders. What a way to go. And if she resents, won’t she still be in this situation, waiting to be murdered over and over again in some sort of fucked up time loop? That couldn’t happen to her, right? Sai could—Her hands are shaking around the knife, and despite their negative last encounter, she wants to call out for him. 

“Well if we fail, we only lose our lives,” Kakashi deadpans.

Deidara, injured, flashes through her mind. “How can you say that?” Sakura snaps. She doesn’t want to see any of them like that again, not if she can help it. But what can she do against an enemy she can’t see? 

Naruto notes the mist is getting thicker, and now the group loses Kakashi to the haze as Tazuna explains that it’s the norm here. 

Sakura calls out for Kakashi again, to no avail. And if Zabuza is as quick as Kakashi says, how would she even know if he’s even alive anymore? What if he’s already gone? What if—?

“Eight points.”

Sakura gasps sharply, “What’s that?” Was that Zabuza? That was his voice, wasn’t it? Goddamn it, she hates horror games. She can’t do this. 

“Larynx, spine, lungs, liver. Jugular, subclavian artery, kidneys, heart.” There’s a pause, before Zabuza continues, “Now, which will be my kill point?”

Sakura squeaks, clenching the handle of her kunai. She opens her mouth, ready to call for Sai, when a blast of chakra clears the mist. Blinking groggily, Sakura relishes sight once more. 

Kakashi is before them, still poised and more importantly, still alive.

Okay. Sakura takes a deep breath to calm her nerves. The bloodlust in the air is so intense that it’s palpable, the atmosphere thick enough to drown in. 

“Sasuke!” Kakashi’s voice startles them all. “Calm down. I’ll protect you with my life. All of you. I will not allow my comrades to die.” He turns toward them, looking as reassuring as possible considering the circumstances. “Trust me.” 

Sakura hums softly. She hadn’t even noticed Sasuke was suffering, and he’s right next to her. How is she going to help stop Zabuza? Hell, how is she supposed to beat this route? 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Zabuza says, appearing behind Sakura in a flash.

No way. Sakura stiffens. How is that even—? She starts to turn, still clutching her kunai and feeling terribly unmatched, and she can’t help that her eyes are drawn to his heart meter as it softly shimmers and changes to purple. 

“It’s over,” Zabuza stands, prepping his blade, and before she can blink Kakashi is on them. They all fall away, Kakashi and Zabuza locked in a stalemate in the middle of their scattered circle. 

Sakura inhales sharply from her spot in the dirt. Kakashi has stabbed Zabuza, the kunai protruding from his abdomen. But… but that can’t be. What about the route? He’s gushing blood, pouring like a faucet from the wound—No. No, that’s not blood. That’s water.  

Naruto catches the real Zabuza first, calling out for Kakashi to look behind him as the Zabuza that had Sakura’s focus dissolves in a splash of water. But it’s too late.

“Die!” Zabuza snarls out, cutting through Kakashi’s abdomen in one heavy swing. 

Sakura reels, about to scream, when Kakashi—what was left of him—bursts into a puddle of water that splashes harmlessly to the ground. Wide eyed, Sakura trembles, her fingers gripping at the dirt.

“Don’t move,” Kakashi says, appearing with a kunai at Zabuza’s neck. After a pause, he says, “Now it’s over.”

Wow. Wo-o-ow. Sakura holds her hands up, fists clenched, to her chest. 

“You’re finished,” Kakashi says, and Naruto is the first to cheer, breaking the tense mood. Sakura follows in with a nervous chuckle. Even Sasuke looks hesitantly relieved. 

Zabuza chuckles darkly. “Finished?” He starts, “you really don’t get it, do you? Your technique is nothing but a crass imitation. I’ll never be defeated by a mere copycat ninja like you.” Kakashi grunts, but Zabuza goes on, “You are full of surprises though. You’d already copied my water clone jutsu when you made your little speech.”

Wait, Sakura sours, the speech where he’d said he would protect us with his life? Kakashi had already been a clone? Sakura bites the inside of her cheek, annoyed, and annoyed for being annoyed since she knows it was the smart move. She starts to rise to her feet, not liking where this is going.

“Very skillfully executed. You made your clone say those words to draw my attention, while you hid in the mist, waiting for me to make my move,” Zabuza accuses, basically calling Kakashi a coward in front of the team. “Nice try,” he starts, and then another Zabuza appears behind Kakashi, finishing the sentence, “but I’m not that easy to fool!” The hostage Zabuza pops in a burst of water. 

As Kakashi turns, Zabuza has already started his swing, Kakashi manages to duck in time.

Zabuza’s sword lodges in the ground, but Zabuza wastes no time in swiveling, grabbing it with his other arm, and using the momentum to kick Kakashi so hard that he goes flying toward the river. Zabuza charges forward to cut him while he’s airborne, but he’s slowed down by spikes that Kakashi had evidently scattered during the heavy fog. Unable to catch Kakashi before he’s in the water, Zabuza dives in after him. 

Sakura can’t believe he got kicked through the air like that. Sasuke mumbles something, but Sakura’s too focused to hear him.

Kakashi emerges, but no sooner has he emerged than Zabuza is on him again, performing elaborate hand signs.

“Water prison jutsu,” Zabuza announces smugly.

“No!” Kakashi starts to move, but the jutsu has him captured, a sphere of water forming around him. 

Sakura looks between the two Jonin and her teammates, wondering what the hell they were supposed to do now. Zabuza is saying something to Kakashi, but from this far she can’t make it out. Alright, think. In this situation, Deidara would—well, Deidara would rush in and blow everything up. Not an option. Gaara would—Gaara would also use brute force and crush Zabuza in a ball of sand. Oh, come on, she has to know someone who’s a strategist.

A Zabuza clone rises from the water.

Shit. Alright. Alright, think on your feet, Sakura. Think on your—

…

Sakura jolts out of bed, groaning, “Oh, come on! ” 

Ino, tangled in her covers, grunts angrily at her. A hand reaches out from the bundle to grab her phone, pulling it off the charger and toward her. “Sakura,” Ino complains, “it’s six in the morning. With all the love in the world, please shut the fuck up.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sakura mumbles, searching for her phone. She grabs it, and the bundle of headphones next to it. Alright, Zabuza Momochi thinks he’s hot shit, huh? She loads the app as she plugs her headphones in. Once she’s on the main screen, she goes back to load up her preview.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Three: Zabuza Momochi - Blue Heart

Sakura queues up the preview. Making sure her earbuds and volume are adjusted, she hits play.

There’s the sound of children’s chatter, the camera panning to what seems to be a regular school hallway, albeit a little run down. One of the children runs up behind a young boy, leaping to throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Zabuza,” the one who threw his arm around the other calls out, “come on, we’re playing soccer out by the East river. We need people—all the older kids are busy training for their final exam.” 

Young Zabuza, perhaps eight or nine, doesn’t bat an eye at that, “Yeah, alright, I’ve got goalie. But just one match, I’ve really gotta get home.” 

“Alright. You’re the fastest one playing,” his friend cackles. “You’ve gotta be on my team, okay?”

The scene shifts sharply to him arriving home, the house filthy and barren. There’s an adult—Sakura couldn’t decipher between mother or father, because they’re slouched over between a small pile of empty bottles. Another boy, smaller even than Zabuza, sits huddled in a blanket. “There’s no food,” the smaller boy announces, his voice thick with phlegm.

“I’ll buy some food,” Zabuza retorts, scrounging through the cabinets until he finds a jar. He opens it—empty.

“There’s no money either,” the boy says, bursting into a fit of coughing. 

“I’ll find some food then.” He walks over, ruffling the boy’s hair with forced pleasantness before he heads out of the house. He heads right for the neighbor’s garbage, beginning to dig through its contents without hesitation. The neighbor, an old woman, pokes her head out of the doorway. “Zabuza,” she starts, wrinkled face scowling at the boy, “the garbage, really? That’s all spoiled. ”

“We’re hungry,” Zabuza says without looking up, stuffing his pockets with partly rotted vegetables. “And Saizo is sick. He needs to eat to get better.” 

“He needs medicine to get better,” the old woman corrects. “Aren’t you old enough to join the Academy yet? With that graduation exam of theirs, those few shinobi that make it are paid well.” 

“I’m not old enough to go to the Academy,” Zabuza protests, “and even if I was, I would have to go and then graduate.”

“True. Shame you aren’t a little older,” the woman tuts. “The graduation exam is coming up. Smart, quick boy like you, I bet you could win it too. Ah, well, if you come back around dinner, my daughter is hoping to barter for rice today. I’m sorry she doesn’t make enough to barter for medicine, but ever since her boys failed the exam, it’s only her working anymore.”

Zabuza answers quietly, “Thank you.”

The scene changes again, and Sakura has to stop herself from audibly gasping. She covers her mouth, watching as Zabuza walks through a field absolutely littered with bloody corpses, a kunai knife in his hand. He approaches an adult shinobi, evident from their headband, and rubs tears from his eyes before he speaks—smearing blood across his face. “I beat them. That’s the test, isn’t it?” He hiccups. “Pay me. I won. I won.”  

The adult looks hesitantly to the left, probably looking to other offscreen administrators for support. “You aren’t even a student, we can’t possibly—”

“You’re one of those rich fuckers,” Zabuza says, seething, wiping his bloody hands along his pants. “What do you know about anything? You didn’t have to take the exam anyway. But I knew these people, almost all of them. I knew their moms, and their dads, and they’ve probably fed me once or twice.” He sucks in a big breath. “So either you make me a shinobi and pay me, or I’ll fucking kill you too, because you aren’t worth half of one of them to me.” 

Suddenly, Zabuza is an adult, hand pressed to Sakura’s forehead as she trembles in a bundle of blankets. “Don’t touch me,” Sakura complains, and Zabuza shifts his hand away. Weakly, she sits up, trying to force more distance between them by pushing her hand against the floor next to her mat, and his darts out to grab her wrist. “Stop moving then,” Zabuza scowls at her. “I don’t want to have to watch over you if you pass out again, you little Leaf rat.” 

The scene shifts again, and now Zabuza is holding Sakura’s hand to steady her as she walks doe-legged across water. “Oh my god,” preview Sakura squeaks in her nervous excitement, “I’m doing it.” She stumbles, and Zabuza pulls her up and into his arms, keeping her steady until she can regain her footing.

The screen goes black. There’s the sharp whirr of blades slicing through the air, the clang of steel against steel, and the crackling chirp of blue lighting up the screen. Sakura squints at the harsh light, and as soon as it disappears back to black she hears Zabuza’s voice, “If I don’t make it, then thank you. For this. For everything.” 

Sakura stares blankly at the screen as the preview ends, gripping the edge of her phone as she stifles her frustration. What the fuck is she supposed to do with that? That told her nothing. Okay, not nothing, but seriously, it was mostly backstory. She needed something Gaara-tea-shop level to get her from Point A, Zabuza about to murder them all in this field, to Point B, Zabuza tenderly touching her forehead—well, not so tenderly, considering he called her a rat right after.

  So, what good did his backstory do her? She shifts in her bed, pulling the covers off. She needs a list. The lists always work. 

Quietly, hoping to not disturb Ino, she pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, tosses her hair into a haphazard bun, and slips on her shoes. She grabs her bag, stuffing a notebook, a few pens, her phone, earbuds, and her card key inside before she makes her escape. 

Once she’s out in the hall of the dorm, she beelines for the elevator, hitting the down button. After a few moments, the doors open, revealing—No, God. The universe can’t do this to her right now. 

It’s Karin Uzumaki, dressed for an early morning jog, her bright red hair pulled into a high ponytail, earbuds in her ears. Sakura hesitates a moment too long, and Karin raises a brow at her, “Are you getting in, or what?”

Sakura has the ridiculous thought to run in a full sprint down the hallway, but she knows that would make her look like a loon, and she didn’t do anything wrong. So she steps into the elevator, giving Karin the same fake cheerful smile they shared all throughout high school, “I’m not fully awake yet, I guess.” It’s not lost on her that Karin looks perfectly put together, matching exercise clothes and all, while Sakura looks like she rolled out of bed—but Karin had always made a habit of looking good, and Sakura had always made a habit of dressing… comfortably. 

Karin occupies herself with playing on her phone, texting someone.

Sakura has to immerse herself in her own phone to prevent herself from glancing over, wondering if she’d see Sasuke’s name popping up on Karin’s screen. Sure, she’d seen them together in the dining hall, but she didn’t want to know for sure—

“So, it’s totally not my business to be digging around in,” Karin surprises Sakura by speaking up, the elevator going torturously slow, “but for the record, to clear my own name, I’m not fucking Sasuke.”

Sakura blanches, nearly dropping her phone. “Uh, what?”

Karin shrugs, “That’s what he keeps vaguely saying whenever any of us ask what nuked you two so bad that he’s a miserable sad sack all the time, that he cheated. I know you saw me hanging off him in the cafeteria, and you already dislike me, so just so you know—It’s not me and I don’t know who it is, or I’d tell you.”

Sakura blanks, and the only thing she can come up with in her defense is, “I don’t dislike you.”

Karin snorts, and the elevator door opens, “Okay. Listen, Sasuke’s hot, but personality wise—I always thought you were a better match for him, and I’m into someone else anyway. I’ve got an overly flirty personality, which doesn’t always paint me in the best light, but I would never fuck someone else’s boyfriend. That shit’s gross.” She heads out, her sneakers squeaking on the lobby floor as she exits the elevator. 

Sakura waits so long that the doors start to close, and she sticks her hand through it, the doors jerking back open in response. After all, Sakura did dislike Karin. Was she really that obvious about it? But she was so sure when she saw them together. She flushes, embarrassed, and angry at her embarrassment—of course she assumed he cheated with Karin. But if not her, then who…?

Sakura shakes her head, complaining out loud to herself, “No way, I’ve got too much going on for Sasuke and his mind games.” She heads for the library, brain buzzing angrily at her with her double-life on her mind. It’s not fair, she inwardly grumbles, that she has to bother with two frustrating lives. 

She settles into a desk, pulling out her notebook and pens and plugging her earbuds into her phone. She reloads the preview, listening intently for everything she can gain from the preview, and hoping she finds something that’ll stick in order to get Kakashi—and everyone else, but most imminently Kakashi—out of danger. 

By the end of her third rewatch, she’s pretty sure she has a comprehensive list:

• Main caretaker for a younger brother, Saizo
• Poor, hungry, and desperate as a child
• Willing to teach her, despite being an enemy
• Assuming she has not had to turn traitor for this route, but she’s not wearing her Leaf headband in the scenes shown with Zabuza, so where could it have gone?
• The thank you: this and everything

She tackles them one by one in her notebook, trying to plot their relevance based on what she’s seen of adult Zabuza so far.

His younger brother could be an indicator that another villain is about to appear—but she hadn’t seen anything about him in the older Zabuza’s portion of the preview. So, Saizo is a mystery. Could it be that Zabuza is checking her temperature in the preview then? That makes sense, considering he indicated he thought she might faint, but why’s he concerned? Maybe that’s far down the route, and Sakura is expected to figure it out on her own until then. Still, he called her a Leaf rat, so he couldn’t have liked her very much at that point.

Their poverty pushed Zabuza into forcing his entry into an academy tradition that involved… killing the other students? Nothing about Konoha, Suna, or even what she knows about Iwa would indicate they routinely killed their schoolchildren. So, what’s going on in—Sakura checks her game notes—Kirigakure? They’re sacrificing the poor to create cream of the crop shinobi, and incentivizing the slaughter with their desperation? Just what is this game?

And why would Zabuza teach her how to walk on water? Not that she isn’t excited about it, but it’s sure a significant change from being ready to kill her. Where is the rest of her team, or the bridge builder? Maybe he killed them all, took her, and she got Stockholm Syndrome.

“You’re hard at work early, pink hair.” A smooth voice startles her out of her concentration, making her jump in her seat. 

Sakura turns to her immediate left, pulling out her earbuds, “Oh, hi, Sasori. Same goes for you?”

“Dropping off coffee for my cousin,” he lifts the two coffee cups in his hands. “But I’ll ditch him if you want it. Two sugars, two creams.” 

“Pfft,” Sakura chuckles, “don’t give away your cousin’s coffee.” 

“Suit yourself,” Sasori exaggeratedly rolls his eyes. “I could’ve told him the machine was busted, and just finished mine here.” 

“Wow,” another voice calls out, grumbling, “the betrayal. And from my own flesh and blood.”

Sakura turns all the way in her seat to see Gaara, holding a small stack of books. She can see the moment he realizes it’s her that he can hear his cousin giving away his coffee too, ears turning bright red.

“Of course, Sakura, if you need a coffee, you can have mine,” he mumbles.

“Hey, I already gave her your coffee,” Sasori complains.

Sakura raises her hand to her mouth to smother a laugh, “Let it be known that I never asked for a coffee. Are you guys here studying? We can share the table.”

Gaara walks over, setting his books down on the corner of the table before smugly taking a coffee from Sasori’s hands, “Sasori is just dropping off the coffee. He was on his way to the workshop. I’m the only one here to study, but I would be happy to join you.” 

Sasori bristles, “Whatever, I shouldn’t be working with sharp tools right when I wake up anyway, I was going to review some notes for a while.”

“Oh, you were, were you?” Gaara challenges, taking the seat next to Sakura.

“I was,” Sasori huffs, taking a seat opposite her.

“Boys, boys,” Sakura opens the app, beginning to read the new articles that unlocked with her new route and take notes. “The library aide is giving us a dirty look. It’s an open invite for both of you.” 

None of the information is particularly enlightening, but there is a section on missing nin and what happens once they go rogue, which Sakura finds interesting because of her route with Deidara. Evidently, tracker ninja are sent after them in order to kill them and stop the spread of precious village secrets. 

She goes back over the old information, looking for anything newly revealed from the redacted information, and finds some more detailed descriptions in her weapons inventory—a subclass of shuriken and a senbon needle—which she reads, but they don’t mean much to her.

The company is nice, even if Sasori and Gaara clearly had a whole family rivalry dynamic going on, and Sakura eventually says her goodbyes to the boys in favor of getting something to eat and getting ready for class.

Afterall, she has quite the nap planned for the afternoon, and a villain to beat.

…

Sakura is back in the field, the preview having given her no clue how to proceed from here. “Sai,” she tests, hoping to use the guide for a hint.

But her dutiful guide doesn’t appear, and Zabuza begins his monologue, “You think wearing a headband makes you a ninja. When you’ve hovered between life and death so many times it doesn’t faze you, then you may be called a ninja. When you’ve become so deadly, your profile is entered in my Bingo book, you may have earned the title ninja. But to call upstarts like you ninja is a joke.” The mist goes heavy, and Zabuza disappears into it.

Goddammit, what’s she supposed to do? “Sai,” she tries again, but she’s caught off guard when Naruto is sent flying across the dirt, his headband arching through the air as it comes loose from the sheer force of the kick. 

Zabuza stomps on the headband, the metal clinking under his boot. “You’re just brats.”

Sasuke gasps sharply, and Sakura calls out their teammate’s name in alarm. Brats? Brats? Well, Sakura has news for him, buddy, this is a romance game, and he’s the capture target. 

“Listen!” Kakashi calls out from his water prison, and Sakura chooses not to question the physics there—it’s a game, after all, “Get the bridge builder and run! You can’t win this fight! He’s using all his power to keep me in this prison, so he can only fight you with his water clone, but the clone can’t go far from his real body. If you get away from him, he can’t follow, now run!” 

Sakura is trembling. If she had to bet on it, she’d bet they all are. But running away with Kakashi still captured meant his certain death, and how could they possibly bring the bridge builder back without their vastly more capable teacher? Zabuza is clearly faster and stronger than any of the rest of their team of Genin, so isn’t the time to take him out now? Better yet, if they could just get Kakashi free, then maybe the route meant for Zabuza to be captured alive. Sakura can’t be sure, but she recalls the need to leave an injured Deidara in the woods, and she knows she couldn’t stand to leave Kakashi behind, even if she wanted to. 

“We’ve got to do it,” Sasuke announces. 

Do what? Sakura scrunches her face. Do what Kakashi said and run away? For the briefest of moments, she’s so disappointed in him.

And then he charges forward. Zabuza grips his sword in response, the air around them practically crackling with energy, the meeting of two enemies knowing it’s kill or be killed.

Sakura’s shaking hands still. Alright, she braces herself, taking a defensive position in front of the bridge builder. So, they aren’t running. Fuck yeah, Sasuke. 

Sasuke launches shuriken, all swept away in one fell swoop by Zabuza’s sword, and leaps into the air, shouting, “Now!” 

Zabuza catches him by the throat and tosses him across the dirt. 

Sakura and Naruto both exclaim, shocked. Damn, she tenses up. That was a fast L. Now what, Sasuke? 

Naruto begins to scramble, clearly panicking, but he gathers his courage. After a moment, he bellows a war cry, charging full speed toward Zabuza. 

Sakura can’t believe it. Immediately after Sasuke got tossed across the field like a piece of trash? “Naruto,” she cries out, “what in the world are you doing?” 

Zabuza bats him to the ground like he’s nothing, the same result as Sasuke.

Sakura balks, ready to lecture him—hadn’t he just watched Sasuke try a frontal attack? They need to be more strategic about this. But when Naruto starts to rise, clutching his headband in his bandaged handed, Sakura is caught off guard. 

“Hey you,” Naruto starts, risen to his feet, “the freak with no eyebrows.”

Sakura stifles a snort to save the mood. 

“Put this in your Bingo book,” Naruto goes on. “The ninja that will become Hokage of the Village Hidden in the Leaves—” He stands fully upright, blood dribbling down from his lip, and reties his headband back onto his forehead, “He never backs down. His name’s Naruto Uzumaki.” 

Sakura perks up, her face flushing. Oka-a-ay, Naruto, that was so cool! He and Sasuke begin to discuss a plan, and Sakura can’t help but feel like everything is going to be fine. Not just this scene, or even just the game, but everything. 

Sakura is still assigned to guard the bridge builder—an important task, given that Zabuza has proven how easily he could circle their defenses, but she can’t help but feel left out of the real action. 

Naruto squares up against Zabuza, but from this far, Sakura can’t hear them.

Kakashi shouts, “What are you doing? I told you to run! This fight was over the moment I got caught. Now, take off! Your mission is not to prove how brave you are, it’s to save the bridge builder. Stay on mission!” 

Naruto glances back at Tazuna, waiting for confirmation. 

“Well, I—I guess this all happened because of me. Because of my desire to live. But I won’t let that stand in your way now.” Tazuna looks up, emboldened, “Forget about me, and do what you have to do. Go ahead and fight to save your sensei.” 

With Tazuna’s blessing, they prepare for battle.

Zabuza starts to laugh, and Sakura is convinced that her eyes are playing tricks on her when his heart meter shimmers and changes to blue. “You really haven’t learned anything, have you? Still playing your little game, pretending to be ninja. When I was your age, this hand had already crushed many opponents.” He lifts his hand up for emphasis.

Geez, seriously, what’s going on in all the other villages? Sakura winces. And what’s with the blue heart? They certainly haven’t grown closer.

“Zabuza, the demon,” Kakashi seethes.

“Oh,” Zabuza taunts him back, “so I was in your book too, huh?”

“Long ago, in the Village Hidden in the Mist—also known as Blood Mist Village—before a student could become a ninja, there was one final test,” Kakashi starts ominously.

Wait! Sakura leans forward expectantly. Okay, the preview is finally coming into play. 

Zabuza seems surprised at Kakashi’s implication, “Hm, do you know about the graduation exam?”

Naruto prods further, and Zabuza chuckles darkly at in response, but Sakura already knows where this is leading. “What’s the big deal anyway?” Naruto scoffs, “We had graduation tests too.”

“Did you have to kill the other students to pass?” Zabuza asks him flatly, eyes level. “Imagine, young ninja like you—eating together, training together—and then comes the final exam. Only they changed the rules: kill or be killed. You can’t stop while your opponent still breathes. He was your friend, shared your dreams. Now it’s him, or you.”

Sakura presses her hands up to her face, reminded of young Zabuza from the preview. ‘But I knew these people, almost all of them. I knew their moms, and their dads, and they’ve probably fed me once or twice.’ What an impossible thing to do. That’s so cruel. Her heart throbs with sympathy for him.

“Years ago, in the Village Hidden in the Mist, the graduation exam changed. One year before, a dark evil had filled the school with terror.” Kakashi goes on, and Zabuza stills during the retelling. 

“What’s he saying?” Sakura looks to Zabuza, still as a statue, before looking back to Kakashi, “What evil? What kind of change? What caused the terror?”

“Without pause or hesitation, a young boy who was not even a ninja approached the class and took down over a hundred other students,” Kakashi finishes grimly.

Sakura thinks of the preview. But that’s… that’s not true, that’s not how the preview showed it. Kakashi makes it sound like there was no reason at all. 

Zabuza looks up to the sky, voice strained, “It… It felt so,” his eyes snap downward to focus on Naruto and Sasuke, “good.” He lunges forward, launching Sasuke into the air once more, elbowing him so hard in the gut that Sasuke sputters out blood. 

Sakura cries out his name, watching in horror as Zabuza places a foot confidently on his abdomen, gripping his sword above Sasuke’s body and grinding down his heel. 

“You’re nothing,” Zabuza taunts as he continues to grind his boot heel.

Naruto uses his Shadow Clone Jutsu, surrounding Zabuza, kunai at the ready. “Here we go,” they exclaim, leaping through the air, and Zabuza releases Sasuke to focus on the clones. 

Zabuza launches all of the clones away from him with only a grunt. 

Tazuna bemoans their chances behind her, “His skills are too advanced. He’s too powerful, there’s no way to defeat him.” Sakura can’t help but agree with him—she held no chance against him, only not a target of focus because—

Wait a minute, why isn’t she a target? Why would he toy with Sasuke and Naruto at all when he could pretty easily launch and attack on her and his goal, the bridgebuilder? Is it because the game told him not to? Couldn’t someone who slaughtered all the graduating ninja in his village take out three lousy Genin, no problem? Sakura tries to summon the surge of chakra to her fists, to ready them in the hope of summoning her strength at a moment’s notice, but she can’t help the nagging voice that tells her something doesn’t add up. 

The Naruto clones begin to pop, disappearing in plumes of smoke as they take damage, and Naruto tosses Sasuke a large shuriken from his bag for Sasuke to use.

Sasuke calls its name in preparation, “Demon Wind Shuriken: Windmill of Shadows.” 

Sakura leans forward, excited to see if this goes anywhere. 

“A shuriken?” Zabuza blanches, chuckling, “You’ll never touch me with that.”

But Sasuke’s determined, leaping in the air and tossing the weapon with all his might. It spins through the sky, surprising Sakura by whizzing right past the clone toward the real Zabuza, hand stuck in Kakashi’s water prison. 

The real Zabuza snatches the weapon right out of the air, but a second shuriken that had hidden in the shadow of the first reveals itself, and Zabuza is faced with a choice: abandon Kakashi’s water prison or take a blade to the neck. Sakura is sure that Sasuke’s got him. After all, Zabuza has no free hands to catch this one. 

But Zabuza leaps into the air, clear over the spinning blades, “I told you, a shuriken can’t touch me.”

He dodged it! Sakura’s mouth gapes in her disbelief. Sakura nearly doubles over in astonishment when the blade disappears in a puff of smoke, revealing itself to be Naruto, launching a kunai knife toward Zabuza from behind. 

Zabuza starts to whirl around, equally surprised, “What?” With no choice, Zabuza pulls his hand from the water prison jutsu to dodge the kunai, and it still manages to skim his cheek, alarmingly close to his eye. 

They all watch with disbelief, frozen as Zabuza whirls the other spinning shuriken in his rage and announces, “I’ll destroy you.”

Kakashi, waterlogged but finally free, catches the blade on the back of his armored glove to stop Zabuza from throwing it at helpless, airborne Naruto—who plops into the water, unharmed. 

Kakashi grunts, soaked hair falling in his face, eyes piercing.

“Kakashi-sensei!” Sakura calls out, thrilled with the battle’s tide turning. 

“Naruto,” Kakashi calls out, “that was an excellent plan. You’ve really grown, haven’t you?” And it’s true, the plan was inspired—turning one of his clones into the second demon wind shuriken completely caught Zabuza off guard. Sasuke’s addition to the plan led to the true combination that forced Zabuza to release Kakashi. Sasuke and Tazuna both heckle him a bit, but the teamwork between Naruto and Sasuke deeply impresses Sakura. 

“I got distracted and lost my grip on the water prison,” Zabuza grumbles.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Kakashi scoffs, “You weren’t distracted, you were forced to let go.” Kakashi’s bold heckling draws all of their attention, and he goes on, “Your technique worked on me once, but it won’t work again.” 

Zabuza grunts loudly in response.

“So, what’s it going to be?” Kakashi challenges him. 

“Sakura,” Sasuke draws her attention, “you know what to do.”

Right. She takes a joint formation with Sasuke, focusing fully on protecting the bridge builder now that Zabuza is completely unencumbered, free to fight Kakashi—but also free to dive straight for Tazuna. 

Zabuza closes the shuriken, trying to force all of the blades down onto Kakashi’s glove, but Kakashi flings the blade to the side. They split, jumping far apart, making handsigns as they each land perfectly on the surface of the water. Zabuza is moving too quickly for Sakura to catch the handsigns, but Kakashi is matching his pace sign for sign. 

They finally still, water between them rising to form twin dragons made of dripping river water. They collide, canceling each other out, sending water flying in all directions. Sakura loses sight of Naruto, and a wave comes crashing across the shore. 

Sakura has no time to grab the bridge builder and get him to safety, branching her legs for the rushing water and hoping Tazuna was prepared to do the same. He ultimately falls over, Sakura tending to him to help him up as the collision of water overhead creates the illusion of falling rain. What the fuck was that? Was that a ninjutsu? It’s nothing like Sakura has seen so far. 

Looking back, she sees them in a deadlock, the weight of Zabuza’s sword pressed against Kakashi, blocking the blow with a kunai. What now? They jump apart again, and Zabuza tries to prep a new jutsu, Kakashi performing the motion in sync.

“He’s not just following,” Tazuna mumbles in his awe. “He moves the same way at the same time.” 

“How’s he doing that?” Sakura thinks out loud, and then diverges to her resident Sharingan user for some exposition, “How, Sasuke?” She can’t make out their conversation from here, but Zabuza’s gestures begin to take pauses, indicating his frustration with Kakashi’s copying. Kakashi is beginning to psych him out. 

Kakashi completes the jutsu, catching Zabuza off guard, a vortex of water appearing to blast him away. His yells are lost as he’s caught in the swirling water, clearing trees and anything in its way as the vortex launches him away from the group. 

Sakura flinches, so she doesn’t completely see the ending, but when she opens her eyes they’re so far down the field that she can barely see them. Kakashi has Zabuza pinned to a tree with kunai knives, another brandished from his position perched in the tree. But wait, if Kakashi is going to kill him, then how is she supposed to keep going down the route? Did she make some sort of mistake? 

From another position, something is launched directly into Zabuza’s neck, and he slumps over, hitting the ground as a limp corpse.

They all turn, shocked, to see a masked figure standing in a tree. From this far, Sakura can’t hear their conversation. Naruto, swept downstream by the battle, crawls out of the river near them, and they all watch frozen with anticipation as Kakashi checks Zabuza for a pulse. They converse more, and Naruto darts toward his teammates, bearing news.

“He’s a tracker,” Naruto tells them, and while that makes sense to Sakura, she can’t help but wonder what the hell she’s supposed to do about the route if the guy is dead. And then before she can dwell on it, Naruto has darted back over between the tracker and Kakashi.

She can hear him shout from their position. “What is this?” Naruto bellows. “Who do you think you are?” He points a finger in the air toward the tracker. “Did you hear me?”

Kakashi says something to him, but it doesn’t relax the blond.

“That’s not the point,” Naruto gestures. “Did you see what he did, just like that? Zabuza was huge, and powerful, like some kind of monster! And this guy, who’s no older than me, he brought down Zabuza with one move like it was nothing. I mean, what does that make us? We’re just fumbling around. We don’t know anything. How can I accept that?!” 

Kakashi pats his head, but Sakura wouldn’t describe the gesture as affectionate. More like stopping his tantrum.

The tracker appears at Zabuza’s side, collecting the body. And they both vanish in a whirl of wind and leaves. 

Naruto, distraught, bellows about their weakness in comparison. He’s so angry, he’s hitting the ground. And honestly, Sakura gets it. The group approaches Kakashi and Naruto warily.

She’s new to this world, and they’re coded to be here, but to see people from other villages with such a head start compared to them must be frustrating. But these villages only have this head start because… well, because they raise their kids to be lonely tools for slaughter, or take orphans with no one to look out for them and send them to battle, or they make kids kill their classmates so they’ll be more effective killers. Sakura is grateful that she took the role of a Leaf Genin.

Naruto continues to yell it out, “What are we doing here?! We’re nothing. I can’t believe it!” 

Finally, Kakashi grips him by the wrist, “As ninja, the things we encounter are never easy. Save your anger for the next enemy.” He turns back to the group, announcing, “We haven’t completed our mission yet. We still have to get the bridge builder to his bridge.” 

Tazuna laughs to ease the mood, since things have turned out alright, “Sorry I caused all this trouble for ya, but, uh, you can rest at my house when we get to the village.” 

“All right,” Kakashi agrees, “let’s get a move on.”

Sakura follows along with the rest of the group, wondering what happens now. If her love interest is dead… how is she supposed to complete the route? “Sai,” she whispers again, and for the third time she receives no response. She sighs, aggravates, and starts to follow them when Kakashi tenses at the head of the group.

With a sharp grunt, he falls forward, and his team rushes around him. 

They lug an exhausted Kakashi to Tazuna’s home, where his lovely daughter gets them all set up to relax. When he finally comes to, everyone comes into the room to see him—and it’s certainly a juxtaposition, their cool and powerful teacher bedridden. It’s clear they won’t be going anywhere for a while. 

Kakashi rehashes the exposition on trackers, and their duty to destroy all traces of a dead missing nin so that other villages can’t use them for information. 

Alright, Sakura muses, so not only is her love interest dead, he’s probably burnt up to ash in the nearby forest. Not that she particularly likes Zabuza, considering her brief history with him, but damn, what a way to go. 

Kakashi is dwelling on something, going on, “Tracker ninja deal with the body immediately, on the spot, so there’s no room for error.”

“Is that really important?” Sakura asks, trying to figure out where this speech is going. 

“Think about it. Do you remember what that tracker did with Zabuza’s body?” 

Hesitantly, Sakura says, “We don’t know what he did. I mean, I guess he took it away somewhere.”

“Exactly, but why? He should have worked on Zabuza right there, as quickly as possible.” Kakashi presses a hand to his masked face, “Think of the weapons he used for the takedown. Do you remember what they were?”

“Throwing needles,” Sasuke adds. “No way.”

He’s leading them somewhere, obviously, but Sakura isn’t sure where. What did the throwing needles matter? Needles are, um, sharp, stabby, fine for killing, she supposes. 

“Exactly,” Kakashi confirms. “None of it adds up.” 

Sure, Zabuza would be extra dead if the tracker nin chopped his head off, but they still saw his body.

“What are you all yammering about?” Tazuna interrupts, “You demolished that assassin.”

“Here’s the truth,” Kakashi lowers his hand from his face. “Zabuza’s still alive.”

Sakura’s jaw drops in disbelief, and she’s not the only one. 

“But we saw his body, believe it!” Naruto protests.

“Kakashi-sensei, you checked him yourself,” Sakura complains. “You said that his heart stopped.”

“His heart did stop. But,” Kakashi pauses, considering, “that was just a temporary state to simulate death. The weapons that tracker used are called senbon. They can pierce deeply, but rarely kill, unless they hit a vital organ, not in the neck. They’re modified from needles used for medical treatments, like acupuncture. Trackers are trained to know every detail of the human body. Causing the heart to stop temporarily while keeping the body alive is an easy matter for them. First, he carried Zabuza’s body away, even though it’s much heavier than he is. Second, he used senbon, which have a precise effect but are rarely fatal. From these two factors, we can conclude that the tracker wasn’t trying to destroy Zabuza, he was trying to save him.” 

Well, hot damn. 

Kakashi begins preparing them for the inevitable—that they will have to face Zabuza again, and that to do so, they need to be ready. 

Kakashi sets them up in the woods to practice their chakra control, balanced on a pair of crutches so he can watch them work. He reviews the concept of chakra for them, but considering the subject, and all of the trees surrounding them, Sakura is pretty sure she knows where this is headed. It’s a good thing she’s paid attention so far, because Kakashi leaves it for her to explain to Naruto. 

Kakashi begins to get into the how of jutsu, which interests Sakura. Perhaps her medical ninjutsu failed so frequently because the application was wrong, and while that margin of error might be acceptable to heal her own cells, when she tried to help Deidara it only resulted in frustration. She’s using the wrong amounts to balance and control it. The only advice Kakashi has on that is simple: “Train so hard that controlling your chakra becomes second nature. To achieve this goal, you must be ready to put your life on the line. “

“What… do we have to do?” Sakura asks, wondering if her destiny was hurt person after hurt person that she’d fail to heal until she could perform medical ninjutsu effectively. 

Kakashi chuckles, “Climb a tree.”

All three parrot it back to him—but Sakura does so for a different reason. Gaara already taught her how to do this. Sasuke and Naruto are alarmed at the prospect of learning to climb a tree by sending the chakra to their feet. 

Sure enough, crutches and all, Kakashi climbs the tree to demonstrate. He even hangs upside down to show off a bit. 

“Wait a minute,” Sakura protests. “That’s a nice trick, but how does it help us fight Zabuza.” 

“It’s the only way to fight him, Sakura. That’s the entire goal of this training. First, you’ll learn to draw a precise amount of chakra to a precise point in your body. This is difficult, even for advanced ninja.” He goes on, but that makes a bit more sense to Sakura. Perhaps her learning this in her first route, and not necessarily knowing how it’s applied, explains how she could shatter the ground with one punch in her second. She panicked, but it’s a similar concept, right? And she could definitely use the practice maintaining it. 

He distributes the kunai knives and tells them to use it to mark the tree, advising they use running starts until they’re used to it.

Naruto, all talk, is eager to go first, and Sakura and Sasuke take off beside him. Naruto falls right off, his chakra too weak, and Sasuke applies so much chakra that he repels himself from the tree.

But of course, Sakura, having done this before, walks right on up to perch on a high branch. “Hey,” she calls out to tease her two teammates, “this is fun!” 

Naruto calls out her name from below, and Sakura sticks her tongue out in response. 

“Well,” Kakashi drawls, “looks like the female member of the squad has the most advanced chakra control. Well done, Sakura.”

Kind of weird to call out her skills because she’s a girl, but whatever, Sakura basks in the victory. Gaara worked hard to teach her this level of control. 

“Yeah, way to go, Sakura. I always knew you were awesome, believe it!” Naruto cheers her on from the ground. 

“Whatever,” Sasuke grumbles. 

Shouldn’t he be impressed? Sakura huffs. Geez, now he’s mad. 

“Well, not only does Sakura understand chakra, she can control and maintain it as well. We spoke about someone becoming Hokage one day, didn’t we? Seems Sakura’s got the best chance of that, wouldn’t you say?” Kakashi prods to get a rise out of Naruto. 

Sakura knows he’s egging them on, but she thinks of her poor, poor friendship points. Whatever, they’ll come around. 

Then he goes for Sasuke, “And as for the great Uchiha clan, maybe they’re not so great after all.”

Sakura squints at that one. Sasuke’s family is dead, dude. Kind of a low blow for the sake of motivation. “Shut up, Sensei,” Sakura calls out defensively, “you talk too much!” Seriously, she’s not best buddies with Sasuke as it is, if Kakashi hinges the reputation of his dead family on her success, then he’s really gonna hate her. 

But it works. The boys are clearly motivated for success, ready to reach new—literal—heights. They’re at it all afternoon, until even Sakura is exhausted from the amount of times she’s had to climb the tree. 

Finally, Naruto, who hasn’t been making any progress, wanders over to her, “Hey, you’re good at this, how about some advice?” That catches her off guard. “But please don’t tell Sasuke I asked. Please, please?”

Sakura isn’t sure what to say to that, since Sasuke can clearly see Naruto had come over to her. But she tries to channel the advice Gaara had given her, about feeling the pressure of her chakra and how it felt to walk on the flat earth. Walking up the tree should feel as natural as walking across the ground. “Alright, chakra requires spiritual energy, so if you get all anxious and frantic, it doesn’t work. You have to relax, and totally focus on the tree. That’s how you get a steady chakra flow in the bottoms of your feet.”

Kakashi motions for Sakura to follow him as the boys resume their practice. He leads Sakura through the woods and toward the river. 

It’s a gentle spot, the current moving lazily as far as Sakura can see. “Alright,” Kakashi gestures to the river, “this is a step further—you need to constantly maintain enough chakra to stand on the water, and adjust that chakra ratio perfectly and constantly, or you’ll fall in. But don’t be afraid, it’s shallow here.” 

Sakura brightens at the opportunity to learn a new skill. “Okay. I think I can do it.” Sakura breathes in deeply, glancing back briefly at her teacher before walking toward the edge. She places her foot on the surface of the water and tries to shift her weight on it, plopping her foot immediately into the water. 

“I’ll... give you a bit and check on Naruto and Sasuke,” Kakashi offers, turning to hobble away on his crutches.

Sakura huffs as he goes. Alright, she can definitely do this. She tries to focus again on her chakra, on the shift of the water below her as she hovers her foot over the surface. She presses down, and for a second she thinks the tension holds before it bursts again. “Oh, come on,” she groans.

By the end of the hour, she can definitely get her foot on top, but the tension breaks whenever she tries to come all the way up. Then, finally, she can put her full weight on the surface of the water, and she takes one step, then two, then three—and then she falls through again. Frustrated, Sakura kicks at the water. 

Kakashi checks back on her twice, but she mostly ignores him, focused on conquering the water. After he leaves the second time, she starts making real progress. 

Sakura manages to take several wobbly steps, the current pulling her along as she desperately tries to maintain her balance, and she starts to realize that the current is getting stronger. She takes a few more steps trying to firm her stance on the surface, but the current only pulls her feet further along. She looks back, alarmed at how far she’s come from shore, and how far she’s gone down the river from her starting point. Soon, she’s barely on her feet, the river forcing her to dodge rocks as it delves more into a rapid than anything. On a whim, she tries to call out for Kakashi, but he left a while ago.

Alright, well, the only thing she can do is make it back to the shore. She tries to turn around, but she loses her balance as her feet are swept underneath her. With a loud yelp, she falls forward into the water. 

Wait. Wait. Sakura’s hands flounder above the water, trying to pull herself up, and then trying to swim, or anything—but she begins to panic. Before she knows it, she’s swallowed a mouthful of water, and the exhaustion she’d been ignoring in favor of progress is beginning to set in. Her hands no longer breach the surface. Her lungs burn. She wonders where she’ll reset to as her vision goes dark.

She coughs up a chest full of water, a pair of steady hands stopping her from falling too far forward. Catching the pair of eyes in front of her, she recognizes his face from the gardening club, and the hacking is the only thing stopping her from blurting out a spoiler that would probably get her killed.

“Shh,” Haku shushes her, a hand along her back. “You’re alright. You fell into the river.”

Sakura leans forward, her head dizzy, her vision going spotty. She observes his face, the warm brown eyes she considers herself relatively familiar with. Haku? She didn’t remember anything about Haku from the preview. Her eyelashes flutter, and he catches her as she flops over. 

As her consciousness fades, she feels him hoist her into his arms, “Perhaps we could call this… an act of providence.”

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Three: Zabuza Momochi - Green Heart

Sakura wakes up bound, gagged, and sitting in someone’s bathtub. She huffs through the cloth, glaring at the beige walls around her. Frustrated with her situation, she kicks her bound feet at a bottle of shampoo from the edge of the tub, pettily satisfied as it clatters to the floor. That’s right Haku, she’s awake, and he’s going to hear about it. 

There’s a brief commotion from outside the door before the handle turns and it opens, Haku poking his head through the crack in the door. He raises a finger to his lips, looking at her calmly and shushing as though she were his noisy daughter while he’s on a conference call at work.

Sakura scrunches her nose, eyes glaring daggers at him from across the bathroom. She angrily thumps the tub. This has to be related to her route, right? But then again, Gaara had gone rogue when she saw him in Deidara’s route, so who’s to say Haku couldn’t have? Of course, Gaara had a reason, it’s his connection to her. But without Sai answering her calls—and now she couldn’t even call him, thanks Haku—and this gag in her mouth, it’s not like she can ask him. She makes muffled noises of dissent that she hopes translates to ‘Let me out of here, motherfucker.’

Haku sharply shushes her again, glancing behind him before closing the door.

Sakura balks at that, thumping at the tub with her feet. 

“Enough,” she hears the sharp drawl of another familiar voice from the other side of the door, “whoever you’ve got in there is going to get Gato’s dogs snooping around here if you don’t shut them up.”

Oh my God, Sakura realizes, that’s Zabuza’s voice. 

“You were resting,” Haku protests. “We can deal with her later—”

“I’m up now,” Zabuza snarls. “Her? Her who?” 

Sakura can’t hear the explanation that ensues, and Sakura is preoccupied with the knowledge that Haku is the masked tracker agent that came to save Zabuza. 

Haku interrupts her thoughts by opening the door, smiling serenely at her, “I’m going to pick you up now.”

Sakura shifts away in the bathtub, leaning as far away from him as she can, and when his arms slip underneath her to hoist her into his arms, she wriggles dangerously. 

“Careful,” Haku chides her, “I’m not trying to drop you.” He hoists her out of the bathroom and into what must be the master bedroom, Zabuza tucked into the bed. 

Grunting loudly, he sits up, and as the blanket falls from his chest, his heart meter pops into view—still inexplicably blue. They’re definitely not friendly, so how did that happen? 

Sakura notices she’s staring at his chest, so she shifts her gaze up, meeting his eyes. She withers a bit under the intensity of his glare, embarrassed—Zabuza definitely noticed.

Zabuza glares openly at her, drawling sharply, “So, one of the little Leaf rats sniffed around too far from home and washed up for Haku to find. Put her down, Haku.”

Haku sets her on her feet, his hands hovering near her elbows in case she loses her balance with the bindings around her ankles. “There are several enemy mercenaries in this residence that will do terrible things to you if you’re captured by them,” Haku warns her sternly, his soft voice juxtaposed against the clear threat. “I don’t want any of that to happen to you, but if you scream, they’re going to know you’re in here.” And with that danger made clear, Haku pulls the gag from her mouth, letting the bindings hang around her neck.

Sakura watches him, wide eyed and surprised. Real world Haku is so gentle, who the hell is this, wearing his polite face? She blinks away the thought. They’re different. This Haku was raised in this world, with all of its troubles and hardship. “If you’re going to bother to threaten me,” Sakura says icily, “you might as well tell me why you bothered to bring me here.”

“Smart, pretty,” Zabuza drawls tauntingly, “but pretty small for a Shinobi. They must let anyone become Genin in the Leaf.”

Sakura bristles, “I’m not the one on bedrest, Mr. Hot Shit.” Sure, she was on guard duty during that fight, but it feels good to watch the smugness of his expression—what was visible of it, with most of his face covered in bandages—shift into irritation.

“You little—” Zabuza starts, but Haku intercedes on her behalf.

“That’s enough,” Haku places a hand on her shoulder, looking between the pair. “Tell us your name, so we have something proper to call you. I’m Haku, and of course, you’ve met Zabuza.”

She would’ve kept that secret, if this wasn’t a game, the whole point of which being to make friendly with the scary criminal men. But it was a game, so she shifts her gaze to Haku’s pleasant smile, “Sakura Haruno. You didn’t answer. Why am I here? Are you going to hurt me?”

“No,” Haku says, “you don’t need to be concerned about that.”

“I’m a little concerned,” Sakura answers dryly. “I’m tied up, and you brought me to a bed.” 

Both of the men visibly fluster, surprising Sakura, who had mostly been joking. “It’s nothing like that,” Haku admonishes her, “we’re going to trade you for the bridge builder. I had to bring you out to Zabuza like this because he’s recuperating.”

Zabuza says nothing, pointedly looking away from her, his eyes narrow and what’s visible of his upper cheeks darkly flushed.

“Please, sit here, and I will fetch you something to eat,” Haku helps her to the other side of the bed, where she sits at the edge. With little fanfare, he leaves her there.

Sakura sits, peeking over at Zabuza, who’s openly glaring at her. She winces, looking back at the door, silently willing Haku to come back as quickly as possible. Seriously, how is she supposed to seduce this guy? 

“Pink hair can’t be very effective for staying hidden,” Zabuza comments.

Sakura presses her bound hands to her heart, protesting, “When we met you were shirtless and wearing cow print boot-sandals.” She was only being a smartass, and is surprised to see him look genuinely put off.

“That’s how everyone dresses in the Hidden Mist,” Zabuza grumbles, defending himself. 

“They make you dress that way?” Sakura grins to show she’s joking, “Yikes, I would become a missing nin too.”

She clearly hits a nerve, his eyes narrowing sharply at her. 

Emboldened by the fact that he couldn’t move, Sakura sticks her tongue out at him cheekily before she goes on, touching on something she already suspects from the preview, “So, what’s the Hidden Mist like?”

“You think you’re the one interrogating me?” Zabuza scoffs.

“Not much I could tell you about the Hidden Leaf, unless you’d like to know about an excellent spot for tea.” She flops backwards onto the bed, sighing exaggeratedly, “And for the record, I like my hair.”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” Zabuza mumbles, to Sakura’s surprise, “just that it doesn’t seem very stealthy.”

“I don’t think we’re stealthy people,” Sakura chuckles at that. “More like, punch right through our problems type people.”

“You?” Zabuza balks at her. 

Sakura frowns, trying to circle back, “Hey, just because we don’t kill everyone at the final exam or blend into the fog doesn’t mean we’re lesser ninja. How did the Mist even maintain enough shinobi to do that?”

“Enough people were poor that they kept singing up,” Zabuza shifts in the bed, grunting at the pain in his muscles. “You want to know what the Mist was like? It was fucking awful—” Zabuza tenses, shooting upright with a strangled groan. His hands pull out from under the covers, revealing in one of them a kunai knife.

Sakura gasps loudly, cringing away from him—Sakura had seen him on the battlefield, and had every reason to be frightened.

“Get on the ground, and under the bed,” he growls at her, eyes slim with his grimace at the pain shooting up his spine. Wide-eyed, Sakura hesitates for too long, her eyes focused on the kunai in his hand, and so Zabuza roughly shoves her off the edge of the bed. “Now!” He hisses at her, squaring his shoulders so that he looks imposing. 

She lands with a rough thump, but she scoots under the bed just as Zabuza’s door swings open. Shit, she realizes, she’s facing the wrong way if she wants to see anything. With the bindings around her hands and ankles, she’s afraid to risk being detected with no way to defend herself, so she doesn’t try to turn. 

“What?” Zabuza asks, voice stern. 

“Boss sent me to check on your progress,” an unfamiliar voice chuckles. “Says you’re wasted money, sitting around like this, and Gato has never liked wasting money. You hear me?” 

“Gato will get what he paid for: the bridge builder’s head.” Zabuza grumbles from above Sakura.

“He wants the Leaf shinobi too,” the other man tuts, “for the embarrassment.”

“I’ll do whatever he’ll pay me for. Get lost.”

A shiver runs down Sakura’s spine. So, when they said they wouldn’t hurt her—Sakura thinks of the preview, and of the deaths of people Zabuza actually knew and cared about. In the world of the shinobi, anything is negotiable. There’s silence for too long, no sound of footsteps to signify the stranger has left the room, and no audible closing of a door. 

Sakura takes a peek toward the end of the bed, and there is a face looking back at her.

The stranger grabs the bindings around her feet, beginning to pull her across the floor. “What’s this?” He cackles, “Are you keeping some girl tied up under your bed? Sicko.” He’s too delighted in the way that he says it. “All because you don’t want to share?”

Sakura thinks of Haku’s warning and she yelps, thrashing her bound feet. She rolls, trying to use her elbows for leverage, knowing that Zabuza is injured and in no position to fight. “Let me go, you creep!” Sakura yells, trying to jerk her feet away from his hands. Zabuza isn’t helping her; Zabuza can probably barely move. “Haku!” Sakura cries out as the man drags her out from under the bed, smiling wickedly from above. Seeing his expression, she shuts her eyes, terrified that Haku is too far to come rescue her, and she backtracks to her closest option for safety, even if he’s incapable of helping her, “Zabuza!” 

There’s a wet gurgle, followed by a heavy thump in front of her. Something metal clatters across the floor, followed by a thud on each side of her. 

Sakura squeaks, her eyes still closed, waiting for some proof that she’s safe.

Zabuza’s voice above her hisses, “I’m going to fall on you if you don’t move.” 

Her eyes snap open, and she’s alarmed to see Zabuza’s abdomen hanging over her, stopping himself from falling with trembling arms on either side of her, his black shirt hanging loosely due his position, and his bare muscles over her face. Sakura makes a gutteral noise of surprise, but there’s nowhere she can roll in time—

Zabuza’s arms give out, his stomach slamming into her face, his head knocking into her legs. 

Sakura yelps, wriggling, “You’re crushing me!”

“Like I’m so comfortable,” Zabuza snaps back at her, rolling off and flopping on his side. He lets out a deep groan, spine stiff with the pain, and Sakura politely averts her eyes—she’s nearly eye level with his ass. 

After a few moments, she asks, “Are you alright?” 

“Can you reach the kunai?” He grumbles, avoiding the question.

That surprises Sakura, and she finally lifts her head up, getting a better bearing on the situation. The strange man’s dead body is a few feet in front of them, bleeding out all over the floor, a kunai knife in the developing puddle of blood. Sakura blinks, registering what must’ve happened: Zabuza, despite being injured, lunged out of bed to kill her attacker. “Yeah,” she says, nauseous at the thought of rolling in the blood, “I can get to it.”

“Cut your bindings and help me up. I can’t move.”

That catches her off guard too—Since he just saved her, he trusts that she won’t make a run for it as soon as she’s free? Or maybe he knows she’s not stupid enough to run down the hall of an enemy stronghold covered in the blood of one of its soldiers. Either way, she starts to scoot. 

When she’s finally got the kunai, having used one hand to hold the kunai and moving the other to cut through her bindings, she frees her feet, and as an act of good faith she walks over—leaving a trail of blood behind her—to his nightstand. She looks back, to make sure his eyes are on her, and they are, so she sets the kunai down and returns over to him.

Zabuza doesn’t say anything, but Sakura knows it was the right move.

“Alright, here we go,” Sakura says, feeling a little bad that she’s going to get him—and soon his bed—all gross, but it can’t be helped. She can’t just leave him there until Haku gets back. Sakura wedges her arms under him, struggling to get the leverage to pick him up.

“Are you really a ninja?” Zabuza grumbles.

Sakura grumbles right back, “Dude, I’m fucking working on it. You’re heavy.”

“Really?” With him mostly upright, he can balance on his legs with her help. 

“Yes, really.” Sakura huffs. She realizes her position, arms wrapped around him, cheek pressed into his shirt as she tries to keep him steady. “Can you walk at all? We have to get you to the bed.”

There’s a flurry of footsteps, and a loud gasp from the doorway. 

They both turn their heads to see Haku, holding a platter of food, jaw slack as he looks at them both. His eyes flicker to the dead body, and then back to Sakura and Zabuza in their awkward embrace.

Sakura feels the need to explain herself, even though this situation is in no way romantic, “Zabuza protected me from this man, but, er, he fell over doing it and couldn’t get up.”

“Put me down,” Zabuza complains, a hand twitching up to push her away. 

“Don’t!” Haku starts forward, using his foot to close the door behind him, “Do not lay on the bed!” He looks a little too poised as he addresses Sakura, setting the platter down and moving to take the burden of Zabuza’s weight from her, “Please, eat something if you can. I will get him cleaned up, and clean the room while you shower next. I will find you something appropriate to wear.”

Sakura looks back down to the body. Really? They’re not going to address this at all? She tries to wipe her hand on her dress, and when it doesn’t work, she mumbles, “I’ll wait to eat until after I’ve, um, showered. If that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Haku starts to lead Zabuza away.

Zabuza cranes his neck to look at her, visibly exhausted, “Come stand in the bathroom.”

Sakura chokes on her gasp of air, and after she recovers, she sheepishly asks, “You want me to stand in there while you shower.”

“Face the wall or something. In case any of Gato’s other arrogant assholes come sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong, Haku can protect you,” Zabuza turns away, hobbling into the bathroom with Haku’s assistance.

A little embarrassed at the idea of hanging out in the room with a naked man, but frightened at the prospect of being alone and another creep showing up, she quickly follows them inside. She sits in the corner next to the door, turned away, minding her manners as Haku helps Zabuza undress and props him in the shower—it’s hardly thorough, but Sakura got the worst of the mess while reaching the kunai. Most of the blood on him was from her, helping him up. 

Haku slips past her to grab some clothes for them both, setting Sakura’s near her on the counter—Sakura assumes that they’re his clothes, since he’s closer to her size. 

She keeps thinking that something is going to happen, since this is a romance game, but his shower and—once Haku helps him redress and go back to bed—her own are completely uneventful. 

She sighs, closing her eyes and relaxing under the hot water. Whatever. She’ll take uneventful for a minute, considering all the fear she’d felt so far in this route. Haku stands nearby, giving Zabuza some privacy, close enough to provide assistance if he needs it.

Haku makes idle chatter with Sakura, perhaps trying to soothe her nerves—nothing that could be considered prying for Konoha’s sensitive information, more along the lines of admiring Sakura’s hair color or asking about her favorite things to eat until Zabuza announces he’s ready to get out. In another situation—with gentle Gaara, or playful Deidara—she might’ve taken a peek, since he’s her love interest after all, but she’s intimidated enough by Zabuza already, and his newest promise to kill her and her teammates weighs heavily on her mind. Here, covered in blood, she’s not exactly in the mood to flirt.

Finally, it’s her turn to hop in the shower, and as soon as the hot water hits her, she heaves a sigh of relief. She scrubs her skin until she finally feels clean, until the water runs cold. She opens the shower curtain and reaches for her towel, coming to a halt with her arm outstretched as she sees the man standing in front of the closed bathroom door.

 “I don’t think earthy scents suit you,” Sai announces, a slim smile on his face, his eyes closed.

Sakura pulls the towel to her and yanks the shower curtain to cover herself. “Sai,” she seethes, choking up as she wraps the towel around herself, “you—I called for you, why didn’t you come?”

“Can I open my eyes?” Sai asks abruptly.

Sakura hesitates, surprised that he would so blatantly ignore her question, “Let me get dressed first.” She steps out of the shower, watching him, but he only waits patiently. She changes—Haku’s clothes are still a little too big for her, but it’s her only option. Once she’s done, a nervous lump in her throat, with a thousand questions and accusations, she can only mumble, “I’m dressed.”

His eyes shoot open and he lurches forward, pulling her into his arms. “I don’t like it,” Sai complains into her neck. “It doesn’t smell like you.” 

Sakura sniffles, caught off guard by the reunion, and she wraps her arms around him in return, “Why didn’t you come?”

“I can’t tell you.”

She grits her teeth, frustrated, “Why not?” When he doesn’t respond, she goes on, sniffling again, “I’m sorry for shoving you. This game is hard for me, but you were only trying to help.”

Sai hums in response, “That’s not why I was gone. It wasn’t you. Well, it was, but not anything you did to me. I didn’t want to go.”

“But you can’t tell me why you were gone? Are you going to disappear again?” He doesn’t answer, so Sakura pulls back and finds, to her alarm, his eyes damp with unshed tears. “Ah,” she brings her hands up, her thumbs wiping his eyes, “Sai, you’re crying.”

“I’m not capable of that,” Sai protests, shifting his face away.

But he’s doing it, she wants to argue, so clearly he’s capable. She can feel his vulnerability fading, and knows there’s little point in arguing the issue right now. “It’s okay,” she pats his hair, offering a shaky smile, “I missed you too. You’re back now, that’s what matters, right?”

“Right,” Sai seems to gather himself at that, stepping back. His eyes flicker to her, and then away, his arms pulling away from her, “There is only one piece of advice I can give you: stop meddling with the core algorithm.” 

“The—” Sakura blinks, confused. “I’m not meddling with anything.”

“Not on purpose, maybe,” Sai shakes his head. “But something is causing anomalies in the system, and the only reasonable explanation is that it’s you.”

Her eyes widen. “Like with Gaara, when he remembered me?”

“Not just Gaara.”

Sakura catches the implication there, “Something happened to Deidara?” 

Sai’s mouth twitches as he stops himself from answering bluntly, “You wouldn’t like it if I told you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sakura fiddles with her towel, nervous, frightened that Deidara would have remembered her, with the Akatsuki, where he’s only a means to an end. “Does he remember me?”

“It’s better now that I’ve successfully patched out the memory of the cup,” Sai grumbles. “He knows something is missing, but not that it’s the cup—or to an extent you. I’m not sure what will happen if he sees you outside the context of your routes.” 

“So I can’t see him again until our Act Two?” Sakura frowns, “What happens if I do?”

“I’m not sure,” Sai admits, “but if you’re careful and avoid him, then there’s less of a risk. Besides, the glitches upset you, yes? Then it’s better to avoid them.”

Sakura feels guilty—she gave Deidara the cup hoping that it would make him feel better, but it must’ve disappeared when the route reset, and looking for it is causing a bug in the game. “Alright,” Sakura agrees, “I’ll be more careful about meddling after the routes are done.” All the more reason to finish this game as quickly as possible. If all of her actions could have unintended consequences after the routes are done, how is she supposed to make the guys fall in love with her? 

Sai nods curtly, “I have to go. But I will be back soon.” He hesitates, “Be careful, Sakura. I mean it. Deidara’s not stable code right now, and if he loses it, the game will delete him to protect the integrity of the game.” 

Sakura tenses up, clenching her fists into the fabric of her shirt, “And I can’t do anything to help him?”

“No,” Sai answers her sharply, his eyes stern. “The best thing you can do right now is complete the routes with minimal damage.” He winces, a hand reaching up to brush the side of his temple. “I have to go, now.” 

Between blinks, he vanished, leaving Sakura alone in the bathroom. With a bundle of nerves in her gut, a lump in her throat, and the skin around her damp  eyes a little too red to be flushed from the steam, she walks out into the bedroom. 

She has to admit, Haku did an excellent job. Walking into the bedroom, with Haku sitting on a stool as Zabuza rests in the bed, she would have never assumed a man was killed here today—except for the fact that, of course, she’d witnessed it. It’d been done in her defense, even. 

“Ah, Sakura,” Haku motions to the bed, where her portion of the platter is waiting for her—Zabuza must have eaten while she was in the shower, and his bandages are already rewrapped around the part of his face that he keeps covered. “Please, have some food. It’s been a long day.”  

Ah, yes. Between the drowning, being captured, almost assaulted, witnessing a murder, and receiving the unpleasant news that little things she does might get people here that she cares about deleted forever—Yes, it’s been quite a long day. Sakura nods, heading around the bed and sitting on the edge. She picks at her food: a compilation of sad salted meat, fruit, crackers, and nuts. Hardly food fit for hardened criminals, which makes her think of the Akatsuki and their powdered eggs, which makes her think of Deidara.

“You were crying in there,” Zabuza says it like a statement, but Sakura suspects it’s a question.

“Zabuza,” Haku gently says his name as an admonishment for prying, when the reason she would be crying is obvious.

“No, I wasn’t,” Sakura says defensively.

“We aren’t going to kill you,” Zabuza says gruffly.

Sakura creases her brow, wondering where the hell that came from.

“I only said that to get him out of the room before he noticed you,” Zabuza clarifies, and Sakura realizes that he thinks she was upset over agreeing to give Gato their heads. “We’re going to trade you for the bridge builder, alive.”

“And when Kakashi refuses? Or fights you immediately after?” Sakura plays along, but she doesn’t want to. She wants to go to sleep and be done with this damned, stressful day. 

Zabuza hesitates for too long, and Haku answers for him, “You’re an intelligent young woman, Sakura. We have nothing against your team, this is strictly business. I’m sure, given the circumstances, an experienced Jonin like Kakashi will see reason.”

Sakura hums softly in response to that, choosing to avoid the subject, “Am I sleeping here?” She waits for the yes, reaffirming her suspicion of the one-bed trope.

“In my room, actually,” Haku clarifies, a pleasant smile on his face, too serene for a young man telling her they’ll be sharing a room. “I thought it would make you more comfortable, since you could have my bed while I sleep on the floor. Zabuza pushed himself too far today, and he should remain in his bed.” 

Sakura inwardly rolls her eyes—Haku could stand to save the gentlemanly act, considering she woke up tied in a bathroom. “Thank you, Haku,” Sakura says with forced pleasantness. When she’s done eating, he leads her out of the room, and for the sake of the route, she wishes Zabuza a good night.

He says nothing back, and Haku flicks the light off. He takes her across the hall to another room and turns that light on. It’s also plain, like neither of them truly live here, but there’s a large pen in the corner with—

“Rabbits!” Sakura gasps, moving swiftly forward to admire them. “Oh, they’re so cute!”

“Do you like rabbits, Sakura?” Haku asks, preparing himself a makeshift bed on the floor. 

“I’ve never been around them, really,” Sakura says, stooping down to hold her hand out, one of the white hares sniffing her fingertips curiously. When the rabbit is close enough, she strokes its ears. “But they’re so white and fluffy—” Sakura’s eyes narrow, her brows creasing with the realization. There’s a nick in its ear. She thinks of Naruto, tossing weapons into the underbrush and swearing there had just been someone there. She thinks of that petrified white rabbit.

Haku glances over, since she stopped talking, “Is something wrong?”

“I was just thinking about a rabbit we saw on the way here,” Sakura says, and it’s not completely a lie. “It was white too. Isn’t that a funny coincidence?” 

“Yes, I suppose that is,” Haku says, cool right back. 

“Not often you see a pure white rabbit out in the wild, when it’s not winter.”

If he understood her implication, and she’s pretty sure he did, then he doesn’t let on. 

“So,” Sakura brushes it aside, cooing to the rabbit, “I guess I must be pretty lucky to see some-bunny so cute in the wild.” She stands, heading over toward the bed, her voice normal once more, “Well, I should get some rest. Goodnight, Haku.” She’s not sure what good knowing that Haku had almost definitely been following them way before their altercation with Zabuza, stalking his prey, would do—but at least for now, she’ll tuck that into her back pocket, so to speak. 

“Goodnight, Sakura,” Haku says back to her, waiting for her to crawl under the covers before he turns off the light, submerging them in darkness.

Sakura stays awake for a long time, eyes wide open and staring into the dark, ears tuned for any noise, feeling more on edge in this room alone with Haku than she had with Zabuza. Zabuza is blunt—if he’s plotting to kill her, she’d know about it, and he’d have probably already tried to do so despite his condition… Or, at least, he’d have ordered Haku to go ahead and do it. But Haku, no—Haku is sneaky, circling them until the time is right. Were they hoping that the Leaf Shinobi would drop off Tazuna and be on their way, so they could go in for the kill? Were the other two ninja that attacked them allies of Zabuza? Sakura picks at her memories until she drifts off into a fitful sleep.

…

Sakura has a study session planned with Shino tonight, but she’s having trouble studying—mostly because of the game, but partially because Shino was a purveyor of top tier memes, prompting Sakura to pull out her phone and search through her disorganized albums. There’s little preamble, she’ll just be skimming a section on the digestive system and her phone will buzz with an airdropped meme he’d sent her—anything from “feel free to dress slutty at my funeral it’s what i would have wanted” to Baby Yoda. 

Sakura leans back against his wall, their books spread across his bed between them, a smile on her face. “Okay, hold on, I know I have a good one,” she skims through her photos, reading the saved text posts between selfies of her and Ino, or pictures that others have taken of her and sent to her. She airdrops him a meme, and he snorts sharply once he receives it. “Oh wait,” she stops at the picture Ino had sent her, “Did Ino send you the picture of us napping?” 

“No?” Shino inflects it like a question.

“Do you want it?” Sakura asks, prepping the airdrop. 

“Yeah,” Shino responds quietly, fiddling with his phone, “send it to me.”

Sakura thinks little of it, sending the photo and resuming her meme search, but she misses the warm smile that sneaks onto his face as the picture pops up on his phone.

Shino saves the photo, before tucking his phone to the side and clearing his throat, “Alright, so, Bio—do you have the vocab for this chapter memorized?”

“Yeah, yeah, pharynx, pancreas, all that exciting stuff,” Sakura gives an exaggerated groan of boredom. “Need me to run through it with you?”

“Let’s go through it one more time, if you don’t mind. My professor focuses on the vocab and chapter questions.” Shino brushes the thought of the photo aside, in favor of moving forward, and he ignores the butterflies in his stomach.

They study for the rest of the evening, until it’s time for Sakura to go—and Shino claims he needs to stretch his legs anyway as an excuse to walk her back to her dorm. They say goodnight a little shyly—Sakura thinks about giving him a hug, but the moment passes, and Shino gently pats the top of her head before he turns and walks off. 

“Good night?” Ino asks her, cross-legged on her bed, laptop on her lap as she wheedles away at a research paper. 

“Good night,” Sakura confirms with a small smile, stretching her arms up in the air. “I’m frickin’ pooped though, I can only review so much Biology.”

“You two sure you weren’t reviewing Chemistry?” Ino pauses her typing to look up at Sakura and grin wickedly. 

“Ino,” Sakura chuckles, “seriously, don’t you think he’d have made a move by now if it was like that? Besides, I’ve got a lot—”

“Going on right now, yeah, yeah. Come on, don’t you want to be all canoodled up by bonfires this October, or talking a walk under the Christmas lights and kissing under the mistletoe with someone?” 

Sakura starts to change, scoffing at the suggestion, “Who says ‘canoodled?’”

“Not the point,” Ino shrugs, resuming her writing. “I’m just saying, you should leave yourself open to the romance of the holiday season. With whoever, not necessarily Shino. You were such a dreamy romantic in high school, I don’t like to think you should miss out because of Sasuke.” 

Sakura smiles warmly at that, “I’m not missing out on anything by being single. It’s kind of nice, actually, like romanticizing my own life for once. Besides, I’ll canoodle with you at the bonfires, someone has to watch your drunk ass anyway.” Plus, she’s getting plenty of literal dream romance. The thought of balancing a real boyfriend on top of that, of even considering any of the guys as love interests… Geez, it hurt her brain to think about it. 

“Deal, I need someone to stop me from fist fighting the Itachi Uchihas of the world.”

“They don’t even look that much alike,” Sakura protests as she settles in bed.

“Yes, I can see that sober,” Ino grumbles. “Alright, I need to get back to work, this is due at midnight.” 

“Good luck,” Sakura mumbles, snuggling into her covers. She thinks about Sasuke’s text message, about how he’d told her—literally—he’s found someone else. Alright, she closes her eyes, trying to relax. She would leave herself open to it. It’s not like anyone is trying to make an actual move. Besides, seasonal dates are pretty cute, and this is college—time to have a little fun for once. 

…

    “Sakura, wake up and come with me,” Haku’s voice jolts her into the world of the game. 

    She sits up sharply, nearly colliding with him as she scrambles in the blankets. “What’s going on?” 

    “Come with me,” Haku says again, grabbing her wrist and guiding her through the dark bedroom, into the hallway, and across the hall. He leads her around the bed. “I need you to sit and watch over Zabuza. He developed a fever overnight, possibly from the strain of helping you,” Haku’s tone is heavy with intention, and it makes Sakura feel guilty, even though they were the ones who brought her here in the first place. “And as you know, Zabuza and I are the only way you’ll get out of this place and back to your team, so I know that if I leave him in your care, he’ll be in excellent hands.” The message under his pleasant tone is clear: if Zabuza dies, she dies. If she weren’t in this to win him over anyway, she’d have been frightened, but as it is, she’s only privately amused.

    “I understand my situation here,” Sakura replies back coyly. “I’ll watch over him.” She expects that he’s going to tie her hands or something, but he doesn’t. He leaves her in the dark, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaving the room quietly enough to not disturb Zabuza, but he makes a point of turning the knob loudly enough for Sakura to hear him go.

    Sakura settles on the bed, not going under the covers, and propping herself up on the headboard. She’s just about to inwardly bemoan her boring morning when there’s a soft grumble beside her. She hesitates, wondering whether or not he had woken up, and is alarmed when his arm snakes around her waist, yanking her toward him. She’s about to protest, but he grumbles nonsense in his feverish sleep, and moves to rest his head on her thigh. 

He shifts, wrapping both arms around her waist like she’s a pillow to be cuddled, and not someone they’d kidnapped and collectively threatened. 

Sakura considers nudging him off, pretty sure that if he woke up in this compromising position that he would be extra grumpy with her, but when she shifts, he gives her a breathy whine that makes her feel guilty. He did save her life, and she knows from his preview that his childhood wasn’t exactly full of comfort. “Alright,” Sakura mumbles, avoiding his headband as she gingerly threads her fingers through his hair, “sleep well, okay?”

She gently scratches his scalp, too intimidated to rub his back or arms, and she’s amused when he melts like butter—Sakura can feel him relax in her lap, falling into a deeper sleep. Her own eyes grow heavy. Haku had woken her up while it was still dark, after all. She stifles a yawn. 

Sakura wakes up with a kunai to her throat, Zabuza’s dazed eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. His hands are unsteady, and Sakura is frightened he’ll nick her, but there’s nowhere for her to go. 

Before she can speak, he practically snarls at her, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

And Sakura is almost frightened, but the glow of his newly green heart gives him away. Keeping her composure, like she starts everyday at knifepoint, she says, “Haku went to look for something for your fever, and asked me to watch you. Then, you got handsy, but I thought I would be nice and let you relax, since you’re not feeling well. If you didn’t like it, I won’t do it again.”

He falters, and Sakura suspects that’s as close as he’ll come to an apology, but he surprises her, “I—Sorry…” Zabuza trails off, pulling the kunai away, sheepishly returning to his position in the covers. His head rests on his pillow, his eyebrows still furrowed—

Hah. Sakura stifles a chuckle, remembering when Naruto called him an eyebrow less freak. Turns out he does have eyebrows, he’s just usually giving everyone the death glare, and she hasn’t noticed. Gaara didn’t have eyebrows either, but assuming Zabuza didn’t have them and finding out that he did, they’re just always deeply furrowed so they wouldn’t notice them from afar is somehow twice as funny. “Can I check your fever?”

He’s quiet for a few moments, perhaps contemplating whether or not he wants her to touch him after being intimate with someone he barely knew and didn’t fully trust, but he mumbles, “Yeah, go ahead.”

She lifts her hand, slowly pressing the back of it to her own cheek as a comparison point before gingerly pressing the back of her hand—first to his forehead, and then to his still covered cheek. Yikes. He’s burning up. Even through his bandages, she can feel it.

Zabuza lets out a soft huff, pressing his cheek further into the back of her hand, his eyes fluttering closed.

Sakura nearly gawks in surprise, and he grumbles when she pulls her hand away. “Why don’t you let me help you get the bandages off? Haku is taking a while, and it can’t be helping with how hot you are.” Sakura pauses, flustered, “Warm. Feverish.”

“No,” Zabuza snaps harshly, put off by the removal of her hand. “Don’t ask me again.”

Sakura shies away at that, her gentle impression of him ruined, “Fine. But water helps a fever, and if you have those on, I know you haven’t had any.” Sakura stands, quickly moving to snatch his cup and go fill it up in the bathroom. She returns and sets it down, annoyed with how warily he’s watching her, “What?” 

“I’d rather you not see my face,” Zabuza admits begrudgingly. 

Sakura almost answers sharply, but his reason gives her pause. “Well, why not?”

“‘Cause I know how I look,” he grumbles, but he’s clearly getting tired. “Never been told I had a charming face,” he chuckles bitterly, “and that was before I became one of the Seven Swordsmen.” 

Sakura doesn’t know what to make of that. Does he have a scar or something as a result of his swordsmanship training? “I think you’d be plenty charming if you relaxed a little,” Sakura says, tip-toeing around Zabuza essentially calling himself ugly. “Besides, you’ve tried to kill me twice now, so why would me seeing you affect my opinion?” 

He winces at that, “I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to kill the bridge builder. And maybe Kakashi, for the bounty. And this morning I was… caught off guard.”

“Then what was with all the gore talk about how great it felt to kill all the Mist ninja?” Sakura walks over to sit back down on the bed. 

“Thought it would scare a bunch of Genin like you away, but it didn’t,” Zabuza surprises Sakura by sitting up, removing his headband and beginning to unwrap the bandages from his face. “That was stupid, but I respected it.” He faces away from her, setting the bindings on his nightstand and downing the glass of water. He sets the empty glass back down, swinging back into bed quickly, trying to avoid her getting a good look at him by nestling back into her lap.

Stunned and amused, Sakura blurts out, “You know you need more than one glass of water, right?”

“Just do the thing again,” he grumbles.

From this angle, she can see his jawline, so she gingerly brushes his cheek with her palm. He tenses under her touch, relaxing as her fingers drift up and into his hair. With no headband to limit her access, she can comb through his hair soothingly, and soon he’s relaxed in her lap, one hand propping him so he can lay his head on her and the other slung over her legs. 

So, she inwardly muses, that’s why his heart meter had turned blue so early—he respected that they didn’t leave Kakashi. Which meant that even though their relationship is only borderline romantic right now, his meter turned green because their intimacy has increased. She shouldn’t look—he was obviously shy about it, but curiosity gets the best of her, and Sakura cranes her neck to get a better view of his side profile. 

He’s fallen asleep, lips slightly parted, to reveal teeth filed to a point. 

She’s surprised, to be sure, and it reminds her of Kisame—another swordsman she met, and if she recalls, he’s also from the Mist. A coincidence, or is it related? Still, with his face relaxed like that, eyes closed, as he breathes softly—Sakura can’t help but think he looks rather handsome, despite his opinion of himself. 

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Three: Zabuza Momochi - Yellow Heart

By the time Haku returns, the sun is fully risen, and Zabuza has been fast asleep in her lap for several hours. To tell the truth, her legs were restless, and her hand had long grown tired, now resting in his hair.

The door opens quietly, and upon its opening, Sakura is as surprised as Haku. He’s wearing a pink kimono, hair down instead of partially tied up like Sakura was used to seeing him. Sakura blinks owlishly, registering the way he’s dressed as he simultaneously registers the fact that Zabuza is cuddled up on her lap, fast asleep.

“You look amazing. How come you couldn’t lend me anything cute like that?” Sakura stage whispers, “Why am I dressed like an old man while you have fits like that stashed away?” Not that she particularly wanted to traipse around in a full kimono, but if Haku had a stash of more traditionally feminine clothes, wouldn’t that be the first option?

“This is a disguise so that I’m not recognized by Mist tracker ninja,” Haku protests, whispering back as he approaches, hovering over them to check Zabuza for injuries. “Is he… sleeping on you?”

Sakura squints, curling up her lip in annoyance. What, like she killed him and then decided to curl up in bed instead of running away? 

“I’m awake now,” Zabuza sits up groggily, and for a moment, he forgets that he took off his bandages. He meets Sakura’s eyes and the corners of his lips quirk up. 

Sakura smiles warmly at him—tired, needy, bedhead Zabuza is a far cry from the dangerous Jonin she met on the battlefield, and it’s a welcome change, “Feeling better?”

Zabuza opens his mouth to say something, and that’s when he realizes he isn’t wearing his bandages. He turns sharply, reaching for them and gruffly responding, “I feel fine.” He gathers them in one hand.

Sakura manages to hold in a chuckle. In this context, he’s kind of… a brat? In a cute way? A far cry from the bloodthirsty demon of the Mist, indeed. 

“Zabuza,” Haku says bluntly, a hand rising to his mouth to mask his amused smile, “please excuse me, I didn’t expect anything compromising to be going on. I wasn’t aware you two were getting along so well. For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you do something like—”

“Enough,” Zabuza growls, rising to his feet, grabbing his glass with his free hand, and storming off to the bathroom.

Haku chuckles as soon as Zabuza’s gone, “It seems he’s in good spirits. Maybe his fever broke, and we won’t need these herbs after all.” Haku sets down his collection, a few small pouches, on the nightstand. 

“Is this his version of good spirits?” Sakura stretches, quietly pleased that her legs are finally free—it was too sweet of a position to disturb him, but the pins and needles are awful.

“Yes, actually,” Haku tilts his head, smiling brightly at her. Sakura is caught off guard by how genuine he looks when he’s happy. “Zabuza prefers action over words. He’s clearly quite taken with you. I’ve known him for a long time, and I’ve never seen him so at ease.” 

“How long have you two known each other?” Sakura sees the opportunity to pry and she takes it. Zabuza being an action-over-words man makes sense to her—his conversation skills are subpar, but he’ll practically purr for her while she’s rubbing his scalp. 

“Oh, a long time,” Haku quips vaguely. “This reminds me of a conversation I had today, with… someone I met in the forest, actually. Zabuza has done a lot for me, and he’s someone precious in my life. I want to see his ambitions succeed. I want to protect those dreams and force them to become reality.”

Sakura is touched by that, “I understand what you mean.” She thinks of Gaara and Deidara, of how careful she needs to be in order to protect them from the game and the glitches that caused the memory of her to hurt. “I want to be strong enough to protect the people I care about too. What’s his dream then?”

“He wants to become the Mizukage,” Haku explains. “To liberate the village from the tyrants that currently rule it. We are regrouping for another coup d’etat, and this time, we’ll be successful.”

That tracks, considering his childhood there. Anywhere with an exam like that, pitting the poor against each other for a fight to the death for even a shot at financial stability, was undoubtedly corrupt. “The Mist sounds like a rough place.”

“Yes,” Haku explains, “the land is full of civil war and unrest. They need a strong Mizukage to stabilize the people and bring justice to the wealthy, who take advantage of the labors of the less fortunate.”

“So Zabuza is going to save the common people.”

Haku perks up, pleased, “Exactly. And I’ll help him fulfill that dream, as soon as we’re capable of attacking the Mizukage once more. That’s the only reason we’re doing lowly missions such as this. Someday soon, Zabuza’s dream will come true, and I’ll do anything to make it happen.”

Sakura forces a smile, a little sad. She understands the dream, and why Zabuza sees what he’s doing as necessary, but Tazuna and his people need the bridge. Killing Tazuna would effectively doom this village to a life of poverty. 

“Well, please excuse me, I should prepare something for us to eat,” Haku stands, heading out of the room. 

“Oh, okay, thank you,” Sakura chirps, looking to the bathroom expectantly, waiting for the game to move the plot forward and for Zabuza to come out. After about ten minutes of waiting, Sakura starts to get bored. There isn’t much to investigate in this empty room—Ah, wait, the pouches. It would be helpful to know what the Shinobi use for medicine here.

The first pouch is full of a sprig that she doesn’t recognize, and the leaves are bitter when she takes a taste. The second pouch has a different herb, and she thinks it tastes a little like mint. The third has tiny mushrooms, no bigger than a button, and they taste rich. In another situation, she knows that eating strange herbs and mushrooms isn’t exactly the wise thing to do, but Haku planned to use them for medicine, so they shouldn’t be poisonous—and if they were, then she’d reset, no harm, no foul. She sets the pouches back and spreads out on the bed, waiting a long while until the bathroom door opened, Zabuza’s head poking out of the door.

“Hey,” he snips at her, “get me clothes.”

Sakura quirks a brow at him from her spot on the bed.

“Well?” He grumbles impatiently.

“I think you meant ‘get me clothes, please.’”

“I think I could walk out of here naked, like I normally do.”

Sakura gets up with a groan, “Don’t threaten me with a lethal weapon, it’s not very gentlemanly of you.” She starts to dig around for some clothes. “What about we say no to the cow print?”

“Sakura,” Zabuza growls, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sakura picks a bundle of clothes, walking over and smuggling them through the crack in the door. She waits a moment before scowling, “You’re welcome—”

He closes the door in her face. 

Oh-ho-hooooo. Sakura fumes. This guy knows how to get on her last damn nerve. He’s insufferable, he’s rude, he—

He opens the door, dressed in record time and alarmed to find her still standing there. “After we eat, I’m taking you down to the river.”

Sakura takes a step back, intimidated by his proximity and the earthy scent of his soap—Sai told her that it didn’t suit her, but she can’t help but think it suits him very well. “The river?”

“You fell into the river trying to learn how to walk on the water, didn’t you?” Zabuza brushes past her, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. 

“Yes,” Sakura perks up, knowing where this is going.

“And you said you wanted to get stronger,” Zabuza averts his eyes from her bright grin.

“Ye-e-es.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Yes!” It’s not quite a please or a thank you, but he’s clearly not one for formalities, so she’ll take it. “Thank you!”

“Quiet down, or someone will hear you, loudmouth.” 

Despite his harsh tone, Sakura’s mood is made, and she can’t wait to master another skill. It would put her one step closer to being a ninja worth her salt.

Zabuza brings her to the edge of a river, after a lengthy walk away from the hideout and through the woods, and the water is running significantly faster than the river where she first attempted to walk on water. 

Sakura eyes the current nervously, clutching at the hem of her—Haku’s—shirt, “The river I tried this on was much calmer, and I still fell in. I can’t do it on a current this fast.” Her head throbs at the thought. “Can we try somewhere else?”

Zabuza scoffs, offering out his hand for her to take, “You think I’m so weak that I would let you fall?” 

Sakura is skeptical—last night, he was so exhausted and feverish that he only wanted to curl up and have his hair stroked. But she’s seen him in action, and she feels like it’s important to trust him here, so she takes his hand. Besides, Haku is hanging back on the shore, and he saved her from drowning before.

He takes a step off the riverbank, as natural as though he were walking on the solid ground. “Come on, with confidence.” 

Wait a minute, Sakura hesitates. In the preview, the water walking scene had come after the one where she had the fever. But here they are, on the bank of the river. Were all of the other previews in the order that it happened? 

Zabuza tugs on her hand, breaking her out of her thoughts. “One step,” he instructs her, “I’ve got you.”

She feels warm. Is it the heat? Him? The excitement at possibly succeeding at something she’d failed so tragically at before? She takes a step, and his arm circles her waist, ready to catch her if she starts to slip through the surface—but she doesn’t, she holds steady. She moves her other foot from the shore, her full weight on the water, and she holds it. Sakura inhales sharply, excited, her head swimming. She looks up at Zabuza, but his expression gives her pause, his brows knitting together—not angry this time. Concerned.

“Sakura?” Zabuza says, and his voice comes off as distant, even though he’s right there.

Something is wrong. She opens her mouth to respond, the thought flashing across her mind to tell him not to worry because it’s just her game-scheduled fainting spell that the preview hinted at, but that would be ridiculous. She makes a soft noise, her vision going fuzzy, her knees wobbling, and she finally loses hold of her chakra. The water gives out from under her.

Zabuza’s arm seizes her waist, and she thinks he calls her name once more, before calling out for Haku.

…

At Ino’s encouragement, and at least partially motivated by the fear of not acing her midterms, Sakura decided to accept a study date with Neji Hyuuga this morning. Mornings are safe. Mornings are coffee dates, and walks home by the early afternoon, at the latest. Morning dates mean that even if it turned romantic, and Sakura totally doubts that it would in the first place, that she’ll be in a well-lit library with hundreds of other students in the building. Besides, it would take her mind off of the mysterious circumstances of her passing out in the game. Totally safe, no pressure, and she pretends she isn’t terrified at the idea of her first real, official date since—

Well, since Sasuke, in high school. And even then, they were secretly making out wherever they could find a spot in the house well before they ever got the courage to ask Itachi, the only one who knew they were dating after unfortunately walking in on them kissing, to drive them to their first solo movie as a couple—to just… kiss in the theater and not pay attention to the movie.

Oh, God. Sakura freezes at the library entrance. What if she doesn’t remember how to have real, flirty conversation? What if she says something embarrassing? Sakura fiddles with her hair, which Ino insisted on walking her through how to style. Maybe this is too soon, maybe she doesn’t know how to put herself back out there—

No. No, Sakura has wooed three—or maybe two and a half, Zabuza is a work in progress—hardcore Shinobi literally raised to live dispassionately and kill their enemies. Gaara had refused to believe in love, Deidara had accepted that nothing could ever be truly his, and Zabuza… well, he’s coming around, but that’s the point! If she can do any of that, then what’s one college boy? 

Then again, they were predispositioned to like her, weren’t they? Doesn’t that say less about her actual flirting skills and more about the underlying code that put her in favorable positions? She sighs, resting against the railing and hanging her head. Who is she kidding? Sasuke was probably only ever into her because she was the only one hanging around him all the time, and as soon as he had other options, he—

“Good morning, Sakura,” Neji’s voice startles her from her thoughts. 

Sakura inhales sharply in surprise, before she tries to save face, “Oh, Good morning, Neji!” She inwardly chastises herself for being a perfectly fine flirt when nothing serious was on the table—in the game, or with people she wasn’t dating, including Neji when this was all a hypothetical—and freezing up on a real one. It’s no big deal. It’s just a date. Her first date in forever. Her first first date in even longer. Well, did she count hanging out as a date? She’s studied with other boys—but this one asked her out, on purpose, so it’s different, right? She doesn’t have time for this. 

“Should we go in?” Neji gestures to the door.

Ah, he thought she was waiting for him. “Yeah,” Sakura smiles what she hopes is a confident smile, “let’s get started.”

“I picked up bagels,” Neji holds up a bag. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten.”

Sakura perks up. “I hadn’t, actually. Thank you.” Okay, food is good. She can work with food. She doesn’t have to be nervous—Neji clearly thought there was something attractive about her, since he asked her out in the first place. And like Ino said, if it didn’t work, it didn’t work.

They head into the library, claiming a small on the first floor, where it’s fair game for group projects or study groups to chat as much as they’d like.

Neji pulls out the bagels: just a few plain bagels, with a few different topping options. Once they’re out for Sakura to choose from, he starts to pull his notes from his bag. “Alright, so here are my notes. I went ahead and made some copies of them for you to keep, but I figured we could go through any topics you’re having trouble with.”

Sakura takes a bagel and a serving cup of strawberry cream cheese. “So, I kind of understand the Genetics unit, but not really.”

“Alright,” Neji opens his binder, “we can start there.”

For a date, it was pretty bland—Sakura thinks it’s more like hanging out with a friend. Well, if that’s the alternative to throwing herself right into the fire… she supposed she wasn’t ready for anything too intimate anyway.

Still, he walks her back to her dormitory after, and they make polite conversation along the way. It’s nice. When they reach her building, Neji catches her off guard, his fingers grazing her elbow to catch her attention.

“This wasn’t the most romantic morning I would hope to offer you—”

Sakura flushes at that, surprised he would say something so bold.

“Perhaps next time, I can take you somewhere fun to get your mind off of your studies. Have you ever been ice skating?”  

“No, actually,” Sakura decides to be bold—ice skating is a classic holiday date, and she deserves to rip this band-aid off. Right? Right. “It’s not cold enough for anything to freeze over, is there an indoor rink somewhere? That sounds like fun.”

“Yes, downtown, there’s an indoor rink that’s open to the public on Sundays.”

“So,” Sakura leads, trying to seem interested—in a flirty way, “Sunday it is?” Sunday seems really soon. Too soon? Maybe she should’ve let him ask her.

Neji smiles, “Sunday would be great. I could pick you up at ten for brunch, and then we’ll go?” 

Brunch and ice skating? Agreeing is the right move.”Yes, that would be—”

Someone loudly clears their throat.

Both Sakura and Neji turn to see if they’re in someone’s way, and to Sakura’s horror, it’s none other than Sasuke Uchiha. And he’s clearly fuming, his hands gripping the strap of his bag so hard that the knuckles turn white.

“Sorry, are we in your way?” Neji takes a generous step to the side, and Sakura follows his lead, too stunned to know what the right move is here. Neji looks back to Sakura, assuming that was the end of his interaction with Sasuke. When Sakura doesn’t finish her sentence, Neji resumes, “Do you want to rent skates there, or I could see if Hinata doesn’t mind—”

“Excuse me,” Sasuke announces, “I need to talk to her.”

Neji glances back at Sasuke, and then at Sakura, who averts her eyes in discomfort. “No,” Neji takes a step forward, “you know what, I don’t think you do.”

Sasuke squares his shoulders, his dark eyes narrowed into a glare, “Oh, so you’re in charge of her now, hm?”

“I just don’t like your attitude, hair gel,” Neji lets his bag drop to the ground.

“Is that so, Rapunzel?” Sasuke tosses his bag to the ground in return. Students around them are starting to turn their heads, sensing a storm brewing.

“No,” Sakura comes to her senses. “No, no, this isn’t happening,” she steps between them, a hand raised to each defensively. “Neji, I’ll text you later, okay? Thanks for helping me study.”

Neji looks a little hurt by the dismissal, pale eyes narrowed at Sasuke, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

With that, Neji gathers his bag and departs. Sakura sighs, disappointed at the sour end to their morning together, and she turns back to Sasuke.

He’s too smug about it for her taste, lips pulled into a smirk as he gathers his own bag.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sakura seethes, wiping that smirk off his face.

“You’re going on dates?” Sasuke starts, expression shifting back into displeasure, “Sakura, I—”

“I don’t need your opinion on it!” Sakura jabs a finger in his chest. “You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me if you think you have any say right now, in what I do, at all.”

Sasuke fiddles with the strap of his bag, “It’s more complicated than that—”

“Is it, though? You cheated on me. Did you forget that part? Did you want a nice chat about how soon you think I should be seeing other people?” She glances around, annoyed that other students could see her losing composure. She lowers her voice, her fists clenched, “Did you know Karin Uzumaki had to tell me she didn’t fuck you while we were dating? That’s something I didn’t know, one hundred percent, for sure, and that’s fucked up, Sasuke.” Sakura grabs the straps of her own bag for comfort, steeling herself, “Why should I have to sit and wonder about that, huh? Why should I have to wonder why I wasn’t good enough?”

“That’s not it,” Sasuke takes a step toward her, his hand reaching out for her, and Sakura swats it away without a second thought.

“I know it wasn’t, because I am good enough. I’m loveable. I deserve to not be cheated on. I deserve brunch and ice skating with nice boys who actually want to hang out with me, and not ghost me as soon as we get to college.” Sakura inhales sharply, asking the question she’s not sure she wants the answer to, “Who was it?”

Sasuke blurts out an answer that surprises her: “Izumi.”

If Sakura had ten years, she couldn’t have comprehended that answer. “No you didn’t,” Sakura denies it, her heart stuck in her throat. “Sasuke, no, you didn’t.”

“I did. It was a mistake, on both of our parts.” 

“Does Itachi know?” He couldn’t have known. Itachi defended Sasuke to her face. 

“No, but you don’t understand—” Sasuke takes another step toward her, and all Sakura knows is she needs to get out of here as quickly as possible. 

“Don’t talk to me,” Sakura turns on her heel, swiping her key card to enter the dormitory. She yanks the door open, seething, “Jesus Christ, Sasuke, he loves you so much. How could you do this to him?” She shakes her head, not wanting to hear the answer, and she yanks the door closed behind her so that he can’t follow her in. 

Sasuke stands on the other side of the glass door, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and if she’d cared to look back she might’ve seen the tears of frustration in his eyes—but she didn’t. 

Ino isn’t in the room. Sakura curls up in her bed, the tears rolling down her cheeks too fast for her to swipe them away. She grips her phone, full of so much anger that she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She wants to make Sasuke hurt like she hurts. She opens her contacts, scrolling for Itachi. Someone has to tell him. Her thumb hesitates over the call button. 

She can’t do it. 

Sakura sets her phone down, feeling like she might throw up. She had enough to worry about in the game. She texts Ino, asking her to please come home when she can, and she settles into bed, forcing her eyes shut.

Ino would know what to do. Right now, Sakura just needs to escape.

...

Sakura wakes up bundles in blankets, her head absolutely throbbing. She squints at the harsh light—she realizes she’s not back in the room, she’s somewhere on the floor, on a mat. 

It’s Haku there beside her, his hair tied up and out of his face, and he’s dabbing at her forehead with a damp cloth. “Welcome back.”

“I thought Zabuza’s fever was from overexerting his body,” Sakura mumbles. “Am I sick?” She winces away from the cloth—touching hurt.  

Haku takes the hint, retracting his hand. “It doesn’t look like it,” Haku hums, offering her a canteen of water. “You fainted suddenly while Zabuza was trying to teach you how to walk on the water. Is it safe to assume you ate some of the mushrooms I left in Zabuza’s room?” 

Sakura takes the canteen, drinking it slowly, before she guiltily mutters, “Yeah, that’s right. Guess that’s what I get for eating mystery shrooms.” God, her head hurts. She glances around, “Where are we?” 

“You’ll be fine. I’m well acquainted with these woods,” Haku takes the empty canteen from her. “This is a small hut used by local fishermen to clean their fish, or cut thin strips of bait, but since Gato’s nearby occupancy, it’s gone unused in favor of other fishing spots.” 

Sakura feels bad for the local fishermen, intimidated out of their fishing grounds. “And where is Zabuza?”

“Panicking, but don’t tell him I told you so,” Haku pats her head and rises to his feet. “Go easy on him, okay? He’s… rough around the edges, but he’s a kind man.”

Hoping for some exposition, Sakura prods, “What do you mean?”

“Well, he rescued me as a destitute orphan, and helped me excel in the Academy so that I could become a Mist tracker ninja,” Haku begins to explain, eyes distant, lost in the memory. “Those were bleak, hungry days, and Zabuza must have recognized what an effective tool I could be for his political ambitions, so he took me in.”

Sakura, heartwarmed at the beginning of that story, needs a moment to recognize the apathetic turn at the end of it on Zabuza’s part. “Wait, Zabuza rescued you only so he could make you fight for him…?”

Affronted, Haku corrects her, “It’s my honor to fight for Zabuza’s goals. That’s all I need—”

“I’m sorry, how old were you when this all went down?” Sakura balks, her annoyance rising, her head still pounding, her frustration with Sasuke dampening her patience, “You don’t have any dreams or ambitions? Like, a life of your own, or anything?”

“Perhaps six or seven,” Haku muses, “but I am happy this way. When I die, it will be for the person who is most important to me. That’s the only dream I need.”

Sakura crosses the threshold into fully pissed off. With faux-sweetness, she asks, “Could you please get Zabuza for me? I would like to speak with him, since he’s so worried about my well-being.” 

Haku hesitates, like he knows something is wrong with her tone, but Zabuza would have wanted to see her anyway, so he heads out to go get him. 

After a few moments, the door slams open, and Zabuza enters—glaring at her. 

Sakura bristles, already riled up and ready to argue about whatever he’s angry with her for, because she’s pretty sure conditioning a personal child soldier trumps any of it.

Zabuza storms across the room, long legs making that feat a matter of only a few strides.

Sakura hesitates, wondering what the hell he was so mad about. She withers under his glare, wincing, as the thought crosses her mind that he might be about to hit her.

Zabuza kneels at her side, and he hesitates when she winces at him, but he reaches out to wordlessly press his hand to her forehead.

Sakura tenses up. Is he checking her for a fever? She forces the surprise to the backburner, remembering how angry she is, and so she complains, “Don’t touch me.” It was a little too harsh—but who is he to storm in here, angry with her? 

Zabuza retracts his hand, and he’s clearly insulted, but he says nothing. His jaw is clenched under his bandages, and his dark eyes flash dangerously.

To be honest, she’s a little afraid of what he might do, with his face like that. Weakly, she sits up, trying to force more distance between them by pushing her hand against the floor next to her mat, and his darts out to grip her wrist.

“Stop moving,” Zabuza scowls at her, evident even underneath his bandages. “I don’t want to have to watch over you if you pass out again, you little Leaf rat.”

Sakura bristles, anger overshadowing her better judgement and Haku’s warning to go easy on him, “What the fuck is your problem? What are you even mad about?” 

Zabuza doesn’t back down, snarling, “You were being careless. What if I wasn’t there?”

“Wasn’t that the point of you being there, in case I fell again?” Sakura snaps right back, her hands gripping at the blankets, “Do you think I wanted to wind up on the floor in some fish shack, wrapped in whatever they left here?”

Zabuza falters at that, his eyes shifting away, his harsh tone easing, “Those aren’t from here. I went back and got those while you were unconscious.”

Sakura needs a second to process that, staring at him slack-jawed. “You…” Sakura starts, a pang of guilt piercing her anger, “what?”

“I went to get them,” Zabuza clarifies, his grip on her wrist loosening. “They’re from the base.”

“Why did you get me blankets if you’re so mad about it?” Sakura asks incredulously. She leans forward, eyes narrowing into a glare.

“Because, I—” Zabuza scoffs, as though the question was ridiculous. “Because there was nothing I could do about it, and you…” He trails off, avoiding her glare, his expression softening. “I’m not mad.”

Not mad? He could’ve fooled her. Is that—That’s not how he expresses worry, is it? Sakura picks up his hand, and he lets her guide it as she puts his palm back on her forehead, “Were you looking for a fever?” She mumbles meekly, “I’m okay. Just have a headache. I ate one of Haku’s mushrooms. He says I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t eat strange food,” Zabuza admonishes her, but there’s no malice in it. 

“I—” What’s she supposed to say, she wanted to try the medicinal herbs from this world and see what they did? And it turned out that the answer was make her sleep, and sleep hard? Sheepishly, she finishes, “I thought they looked like something from dishes I’ve had before. I thought they were safe to eat.” 

“Be more careful,” He grumbles, his hand drifting from her forehead to lightly grip a section of her hair. “I’m not always going to be there to catch you when you do something stupid.” HIs thumb grazes the section of her hair that he’s holding reverently.

Sakura’s brow twitches at the insult, but she knows that he’s worried—abrasive, but worried. “Well, yeah, you’re going to trade me for the bridge builder, so I’ll be back with my team.” He doesn’t respond, but his shoulders tense up. “That’s… the plan, isn’t it? You need the money to fund your coup.” 

He still doesn’t respond, his other hand moving up to tug at the bandages by his cheeks, and him ignoring her reminds her that she’s angry with him.

“And speaking of your coup, Haku has some really depressing ideas about his relationship to you. He’s not some disposable tool to sacrifice as a means to an end, you know, and isn’t that the whole problem with this damn Shinobi system? I—” 

He drops her hair, hand moving to grab her cheek, his thumb grazing the corner of her lips. The shock of it stops Sakura’s sentence, and he begins to rip the bandages down from his nose and mouth until they’re free, the ripped bandages hanging around his neck. “Stay,” he says, and when Sakura is too stunned to respond, he leans in, his nose grazing hers, “I want… you to stay.” He shifts back, like he’s trying to gauge her reaction.

He looks so vulnerable, face bare, looking squarely at her to see if she wants to be with him—even though he doesn’t like showing his bare face. Sakura moves forward, closing the distance between them, her lips pressing to his. Her eyes flutter closed.

As soon as she touches him, his hand drifts from her cheek to the back of her neck, fingers bracing the back of her head as he pulls her into him. His other hand yanks the blankets away from her, resting it on her hip, his fingers curling into her shirt. 

Sakura parts her lips slightly, and the chaste kiss evolves into him pulling her into his lap, their lips moving slowly together. She’s a little concerned about his filed teeth, but she knows he’s self-conscious about it already, so she keeps her eyes closed and tries to put her trust in him.

When they break apart, he rests his forehead against hers, their noses brushing together. “So, will you?” 

Sakura feels a little bad, knowing that at the end of the route she will be gone again, but the road to increasing their romance points seems clear to her—and that’s encouraging him when he’s vulnerable. Sakura tries to choose her way forward carefully—she doesn’t want to throw her team, and the village that desperately needs this bridge, under the bus either. That doesn’t feel right. “But what happens to my team, or to their mission, or with Gato,” She frowns, and she notices him shift focus to her lips, “if I stay?” 

“If you stay,” Zabuza parrots back to her, visibly at ease with the fact that she’s considering it, and then he registers what she’s asking. “Well, we need the money to fund the coup,” He starts, trailing off in thought.

That’s not exactly the answer she wants. Gaara and Deidara both decided to betray their respective villages on their own—but Zabuza considers becoming the Mizukage the only way to save his village from corruption and the systematic abuse of the poor. Surely, she doesn’t outweigh a goal like that?

“So, I’ll have to kill Gato and take his assets by force,” Zabuza muses, leaning back, his hands leaving their positions at the back of her neck and her hip. He shifts like he’s about to stand up.

“Ah, wait,” Sakura brushes the blankets aside, “I can stand.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zabuza chastises her, scowling, “I’ll carry you. Let me tell Haku that we’re going.”

Sakura tries to piece together the kind sentiment and his stern expression. What a mess of a man.Well, he’s not getting out of the Haku conversation just by being a little kind to her. She sighs as he goes, wondering how she should go about untangling such a messy relationship—’be nice to your adopted son’ is so straightforward.

Zabuza is called for a meeting with Gato upon their return, after he and Haku smuggle her back to Zabuza’s room. He leaves Haku to guard Sakura, and as hours go by, Sakura lets Haku pass the time by braiding and re-braiding her hair.

Zabuza walks into the room, his brow furrowed in his typical glare, and he slams the door behind him.

“Hmm?” Sakura shifts forward too quickly, wincing as Haku holds tight on the section of her hair that he’s braiding. “Ouch. Erm, what’s wrong, Zabuza?”

Zabuza pauses for a moment, observing two braiding hair like they’re old friends, but he remembers the reason for his foul mood, “We need to plan, quickly. Gato is plotting to make a move. He’s sending a squad to attack the workers on the bridge, and another to kill Tazuna’s family while he’s at the work site, tomorrow.” 

At the sudden change in mood, Haku runs his fingers through the braid, gently beginning to undo it.

“What?!” Sakura gasps, looking behind her at Haku and then forward at Zabuza, “We have to do something, right?” 

Zabuza and Haku share a glance. “Well,” Zabuza starts, “we have a few options. Under the assumption that only one or two weak mercenaries would be sent to dispatch a civilian woman, like Tazuna’s daughter, that wouldn’t require both Haku and me. But considering we don’t know what we would face at the bridge, it would be best to have us both there. I see two options: send Haku to briefly dispatch the mercenaries attacking Tazuna’s family and risk getting blitzed at the bridge while he’s gone, or leave the family in order to protect your team and the bridge builder.”

Sakura knits her brows, not liking the sound of either of those options, “Well, if the mercenaries aren’t that tough, then shouldn’t I be the one to go fight them? Then, you and Haku could both fight at the bridge.”

“Not an option,” Zabuza grumbles sharply, walking across the room to press his palm to the crown of her head. “You are going to stay as out of harm’s way as possible. I’m still contemplating tucking you away in some safehouse somewhere.”

That irks Sakura, so she swats his hand off of her, “What are you talking about? Of course I’m going.” 

“I doubt Kakashi would find your case, that we’ve suddenly arrived to stop Gato’s mercenaries and not to kill Tazuna the bridge builder, believable unless Sakura is there to back up your story,” Haku points out.

“And I’m not okay with letting Tazuna’s family die either—a single mom and a little boy, in a poor country, when Gato already killed her husband? It’s just not right.” It’s probably a moot point if side characters in the game die, but—but how can she just let that happen, knowing about it and knowing they could probably change it?

“It’s the reality of being a Shinobi,” Zabuza protests, cradling the hand that she’d shoved away against his chest, clearly offended. “Your village has become complacent. Making the strategic choice, learning to kill the feelings in your own heart, and knowing that others must die for you to live—that’s the Shinobi way.”

“I don’t believe that, and neither do you. Not really,” Sakura counters, the tension palpable as the pair grows annoyed with one another.

“Perhaps I should give you two… a minute alone,” Haku stands, lips pulled into a soft grimace, and he excuses himself out of the bedroom door.

They both watch him go, and Zabuza squares up as if to begin an argument, but Sakura cuts him off.

“If you really thought that was true, then why put so much effort into a country content to stay the way it is? You’ve escaped the level of poverty that killed all of those people. If you’ve killed your feelings for them, then isn’t that all that should have mattered?” Sakura crosses her arms, the anger building inside her. “What about Haku? You adopted an orphan, on the off chance that he’d become a great and powerful ninja capable of helping you fulfill your dream? Come on. You’ve already told me that’s not the case. You’re proud of him and he deserves to hear you say it. He gave up the opportunity to have a life of his own, a dream, anything—to support yours. You owe him an apology. Like, I know he says you’re not a words guy, but that excuse only goes so far, if you care about somebody, they deserve to hear it!”

“Enough,” Zabuza strides toward her.

“It’s not enough, that’s the point,” Sakura starts, but the complaints die in her throat when she sees his heart meter begin to shift, turning yellow. He’s hovering over her when Sakura regains her train of thought, “And if you’ve killed your feelings, then why are you interested in me at all? It’s because you know that’s a bunch of shit—”

Zabuza grips her face in both of his hands, his fingers threading in her hair, “You want to hear me tell you I care for you, is that it?”

“Do you think I’m that vain?” Sakura snaps, her fingers gripping around his wrists. She almost shoves him off, but his hold isn’t forceful, so she lets him stay, “Do you… really not think you’re doing anything wrong?” 

“Anything I sacrifice for the people of my country is a small price to pay.”

“Like Haku?” Sakura’s grip tightens around his wrists as her anger flares, and when he doesn’t respond, she scoffs, “You’re such an asshole.”

“I am an asshole,” Zabuza chuckles darkly. “You’re trying to paint me like I’m secretly some good person. I saw an opportunity to seize power, and I took my shot at it. I heard about a child with no guardian and a Kekkei Genkai that I could put to use, as a tool, and nothing more, and I took him. I saw a pretty girl and I said whatever I had to, and you’re in my bed, aren’t you?”

Sakura recoils, tears brimming in her eyes, “Wow, okay.” She shifts, pulling her face from his hands, and he doesn’t stop her.

“Feelings are a weakness, they cloud a Shinobi’s sense of duty,” he mumbles, the spite draining from his voice, and his hands twitch toward her again. “Didn’t they teach you anything in that Academy of yours? The logical thing for me to do would have been to trade you for the bridge builder—or to have killed you all.”

“What kind of garbage is that?” Sakura sniffles, gauging her odds of dropping everything, and making a run for it. Can Sai help her quit a route, or does she have to wait until she’s awake and quit through the app? She doesn’t remember. She thinks of Gaara, of Deidara, of how neither of them truly wanted to be that way. She’d thought that must hold true for Zabuza as well, since his heart meter kept changing—and even now, why would he say something so cruel to her when his heart meter just turned yellow? But she can’t just quit, knowing she’s so close to the end of the route, and that meant she’d soon get to see Gaara and Deidara again—with them remembering her properly, that is.

“You’re crying,” Zabuza intrudes on her space again, his thumbs swiping the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t… don’t do that.” 

“If you’ve killed all your feelings, then why do you care that I’m crying?” She lets him wipe the tears anyway. “If you would sacrifice Haku, who you literally raised, for your dream, then why should I or anyone stay by your side? How can you boldly say we’re all so disposable to you?” 

“Stop it,” Zabuza scolds her. He starts to remove his headband and bindings, tossing them haphazardly onto the bed. 

“You stop it,” Sakura huffs, eyeing him warily. “Don’t you dare think you’re going to kiss me.” 

He pulls her into his lap, resting his head on her shoulder, his cheek against her neck, his face pressed into her hair. 

Sakura feels something wet against her neck, and she realizes that he’s crying. Her anger starts to dissipate. Damn her weakness for broken men. She pulls her lips into a thin line, warily reaching to rub her hand along his back soothingly. She lets him cry for a few minutes, her hand trailing up to curl her fingers in his hair, before she starts to speak, “If you’re seeking comfort right now, then why has it never occurred to you that Haku needed some from the man he considers his father?”

“But I’m not—”

“Aren’t you? You raised him, didn’t you? I just think that if you can’t openly show someone so loyal to you appreciation… how are your subjects going to see you as the Mizukage? Just like all the other ones, who didn’t care about them at all.” 

Zabuza is quiet for a long while, his arms wrapping around her waist, securing her in his lap. Finally, he concedes, “I’ll apologize to Haku. I’ll thank him for everything he’s done for me, and for sticking by my side.” 

“Good,” Sakura shifts, pressing her lips to his temple. 

“Aren’t you being too kind to me, after I was cruel to you?” Zabuza mumbles from his spot buried in her shoulder. 

“Maybe,” Sakura muses, “but this is a pretty dark world in a lot of ways. I think I can stand to give a little extra.” 

Zabuza pulls back, one of his hands rising to wipe his eyes, and he chuckles, “Someone soft like you is better suited for Haku.” 

Sakura reaches up to tap his nose, “You deserve nice things too. Life is hard. It’s okay to change your perspective.”

“Did you get enough rest?” Zabuza asks, “If we’re surprising Gato’s men tomorrow—and we’ll do it your way, Haku saving that family and us at the bridge, to save them all—then you should be well rested.” 

“I’m fine. Can we practice walking on water again tonight then?” Sakura’s hands move to catch the stray tear tracks that Zabuza missed. “I’d really like you to teach me.”

Zabuza grunts, laying back in the bed and pulling her with him, holding her against his chest, “Rest a little longer first.”

Sakura nearly protests that she isn’t tired, that Haku gave her some herbal tea while he was gone and she feels perfectly fine, but then she suspects he’s only making an excuse. Pfft. Sakura smirks, curling into his shirt, her head resting against his heart. Brat. Well, how can she deny him that? 

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Three: Zabuza Momochi - Orange Heart

Ino wakes her up, gently shaking her shoulder. “Hey,” she whispers, her pale blue eyes wide as she looks over Sakura, “wake up. You look like shit.” She turns back, calling out toward the door, “Thanks for the ride, Shikamaru.”

“No problem,” a voice drawls. “Hope you feel better, Sakura.” There’s the soft sound of the door clicking as he leaves. 

Sakura sniffles, “Did I interrupt you guys?”

“Nah, we were at this guy named Choji’s house playing pool with a few other people. Nobody’s gonna even notice Shikamaru was gone, and pool isn’t my thing anyway,” Ino smoothes Sakura’s hair before pushing her over, claiming a spot to sit on Sakura’s bed. “Did Neji do something to you? Because I’ll hunt him down—”

“No, the date was uneventful. I mean, it was supposed to be uneventful, we were studying. But he wants to take me ice skating on Sunday. At least, I think he does, which brings me back to the problem.” Sakura groans, adjusting in her bed so that she’s sitting up against her wall, “It was Sasuke. I found out who he cheated with, and it’s somehow worse than whatever I was imagining.”

“Now I’m kind of scared to know,” Ino scoffs. “Seriously, who was it?”

Sakura presses a hand to her temple. “When I got back from my date, Sasuke overheard Neji and I making plans for a second date and he got pissy about it.”

Ino quirks her brows, her nose wrinkling with her annoyance, “Oh, so Sasuke’s got something to say, does he now? Some opinions he’d like to share with the class?”

“And so I asked him to tell me who he cheated with, and he told me.” Sakura inhales, the memory alone making her queasy. “Ino, he slept with his brother’s girlfriend—ex-girlfriend, I guess, but the breakup was fresh. But like, I’ve known her forever, you know? I thought she and Itachi were so in love. How could Sasuke do that to him, to his own brother?”

“Mm,” Ino nods solemnly, “and I punched him in the face recently. Rough year.”

“This is serious, Ino. Itachi has never been anything but kind to his brother, and then Izumi broke up with him, and Sasuke just goes and—” Sakura gestures wildly, letting out a strangled grunt, “I have to tell him, but how am I supposed to tell Itachi?”

“And it has to be you?” 

“Now that I know, it does,” Sakura groans, looking at her phone. “I mean, Sasuke did it, and all he had to say in his defense was that it was complicated and I didn’t understand. So, he had plenty of time to tell Itachi, right? And meanwhile, Itachi is worried about Sasuke and me. Itachi deserves to know.” 

“Alright, well, text him to meet up then,” Ino offers. “You can break it to him in person, right? You know how shitty it is to hear bad news like that over text. But that doesn’t mean you have to tell him right this very second—look at you, your face is all puffy. You look like a mess.”

“That’s because my life is a mess, Ino,” Sakura flops to the side, groaning, into her bedsheets. 

“Text him, ask him to meet up in an hour, and go take a shower, champ,” Ino reaches over to roughly pat her shoulder. “I’ll go get you a smoothie. It’s going to be okay. Sometimes people do shit things. You and Itachi are both going to be just fine.” 

“Okay,” Sakura picks up her phone. “Can you help me draft this?” After several short lived debates, they settle on:

‘Itachi, are you free today? I really need to speak with you in person. I’ve learned something about Sasuke and my breakup that I need to talk to you about privately, and it’s bad.’

Sakura’s thumb hangs over the send button. 

Ino nudges her, “Just do it. You could rewrite it a thousand times, what you have to say isn’t going to get any better.” 

So, Sakura hits send, and she thinks—just for a moment—that Ino reminds her of Sai when he’s in a pushy mood, and it almost lifts her spirits. Once she’s through it, she’ll be through it. 

After a few minutes, Itachi responds, ‘I can come over. What time is good for you?’

Sakura asks for an hour to take a shower, and says she’ll meet him at the lobby to let him in. She sucks in a breath—it’s not that she would ever want to keep it from him, of course, but the fact that he’ll be coming over to hear it from her made the truth terribly, terribly certain.

Sasuke had cheated on her with his brother’s ex-girlfriend. But Sasuke isn’t still with Izumi now, is he? That’s what the initial text had sounded like, the text that started it all, but he hasn’t indicated that he’s still dating anyone. And if he is, then why would he care that she went out with Neji? Is it a possessive ex-boyfriend thing? She’s never had an ex-boyfriend before, so she doesn’t have anything to go on, but that sounds like a crock of shit.

“You look like you’re overthinking it,” Ino taps her nose, gently admonishing her. “Sakura, you didn’t do anything wrong, and telling someone you’ve known since literal childhood that their brother did something super fucked up is the right thing to do. Sasuke destroyed his own relationships when he decided to do what he did. He should’ve told Itachi himself. If he’s going to be a sad puppy and make moon eyes at you, or throw a fit when you’re dating someone else, then he should’ve made better choices.”

“Yeah,” Sakura sniffles sharply, and wipes her nose on her sleeve, “you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Ino ruffles her hair and winks with dramatic flair. “I’m always right. Now what inquiring minds want to know, that inquiring mind being me of course, is one thing: what are you going to do about it? Now, I’m not saying in your situation I would have crazy, passionate sex with Sasuke’s incredibly attractive older brother—”

“Ino!”

“Hear me out!”

Sakura rolls her eyes at her, “Go on.”

“But I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it either, if you get my drift. He’s like Sasuke, but older and more sensual looking. Tell me Itachi Uchiha wouldn’t eat you out until you couldn’t think straight so I can tell you how you’re wrong.”

“I have just as much of a problem with the end of this sentence as I did the part where I interrupted you,” Sakura scoffs. “Seriously, Itachi and I have known each other forever. He sees me like a little sister. He was going to be the best man at our wedding. I don’t need you implanting your little,” Sakura wiggles her fingers at Ino for effect, “perverse sex seeds into my brain. Itachi is about to be seriously hurt by this.”

“Well, if the both of you wanted to get back at Sasuke…” Ino trails off, before shaking her head, “You know what? That’s me diving into my devious nature. Don’t do that, I take it back. That sounds messy just thinking about it. Please excuse me, I’m drunk, that’s why Shika had to bring me home.”

That makes Sakura snort sharply, “Oh what the hell, Ino?”

“It’s just vodka, I’m totally functional on vodka. What kind of smoothie do you want? I’ll drop it off and go hang out at the library or something.”

“I don’t need a smoothie, don’t wander around campus drunk,” Sakura starts to rummage around for some fresh pajamas and a towel, a knot in her stomach as she thinks about how deeply what she’s about to tell him will sting. She looks back at Ino, jabbing her pointer finger into the air toward her roommate, “I’m serious, drink some water and lay down. If I come back to this room and you have a smoothie, I’m going to be very upset.” Sakura would have to send her out into the hall while she and Itachi talked, or something. 

“Yes, Mom,” Ino scoffs, plugging her phone into the charger.

By the time Sakura returns from her shower, Ino is sitting on her own bed, her legs crossed and hanging over the edge as she sips on a yellow smoothie. “Hey,” Ino greets Sakura with a sly smile, “don’t feel bad, I rarely listen to my real Mom either. I got you strawberry banana, since you didn’t pick a flavor.”

Sakura is pretty sure she can feel her blood pressure rise.

“I asked Hinata if I could come hang out, so you two can have your talk,” Ino hops down from the bed, grabbing a purple smoothie from her desk that she’d presumably bought for Hinata. “You don’t have to thank me, friendship is its own reward.”

“What if you stopped doing dangerous and stupid things in the name of friendship?” Sakura’s brow twitches, incredibly annoyed—is this how Zabuza felt all the time?—”What if something happened to you?”

“Hey, you’re the one that almost drowned in that pool,” Ino shrugs, repositioning the smoothies so she can open the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours, Hinata and I have a little research project we’ll be working on.” She pulls the door shut behind her, leaving an exasperated Sakura behind.

Sakura takes a seat on the edge of her bed, letting out a shaky sigh before she squares herself up for what she knows she has to do, “You should… probably sit down for this.” She expects him to join her on the bed—perhaps hanging out with Shino got her used to it—but Itachi pulls her desk chair to the side and sits, looking up at her with his dark eyes. 

“That bad?” Itachi says it lightly, like it’s a joke, but he can’t bring himself to crack a smile. Clearly it’s that bad, or Sakura wouldn’t have called him here. 

“Sasuke confronted me today about—dumb possessive shit, but anyway, I demanded to know who he cheated on me with,” Sakura averts her eyes for a moment, afraid to see his expression, but she steels herself with the knowledge that Itachi has always been good to her. She owed him this honesty. She meets his eyes, “and he told me that it was Izumi.”

Itachi’s lips quirk momentarily into a frown, his hands curling into firsts in his lap. “Oh,” he mumbles, his expression fading back into neutrality, “that’s… Wow.”

Sakura isn’t sure what to say, what could possibly ease the hurt he must be feeling. “He told me you didn’t know, and I knew that wasn’t right… I’m sorry that happened, and I’m sorry you had to hear something like that from me.”

Itachi squares his jaw, clearly upset, “I suppose that’s what I deserve. I should’ve been a better brother, and a better boyfriend.” He averts his eyes from Sakura, not wanting her to see him get upset—he was known for his cool, steadfast demeanor.

Wh—How could Itachi say that? Sakura jumps down from her bed, her hands darting up to her hips, “What the heck are you talking about?” She storms forward, looming over him, You—of course you don’t deserve that! Itachi, how could you say that about yourself? You were a great brother to Sasuke, overprotective of him even. And sure, I don’t know every detail of your relationship, but did you really deserve to be cheated on with your brother? Come on.”

“I hurt everyone important to me,” Itachi says, a hand brushing back his fringe, “and the fallout hurt you. I never wanted to hurt any of you. I thought Izumi and I would marry someday. I thought Sasuke and you would follow suit. I thought we would all always be close, but now… it’s all ruined.”

“Don’t think that way, ‘Tachi,” Sakura smiles wanely to try and cheer him up. “Come on, I thought we agreed to be friends. That’s not ruined, right?” 

“You’re sure? My fight with Izumi led to—”

“Not this again,” Sakura admonishes him by tapping his nose, like Ino did with her. “You’re a good person, Itachi. I believe that. We’ll get through this, alright? And maybe when Sasuke and Izumi get their acts together, this can all be solved like we’re all a bunch of reasonable adults or something.”

Itachi lightly scoffs, “That’s a terrifying thought. I’ve never thought of Sasuke as a reasonable adult. I love him, but he’s a mess.” He stands, enveloping her into a hug. Somberly, he mumbles into her hair, “Thank you for telling me, Sakura.”

Sakura, lost in the drape of his oversized hoodie, tenses up. Ino’s joke flashes through her mind: Tell me Itachi Uchiha wouldn’t eat you out until you couldn’t think straight so I can tell you how you’re wrong. Sakura awkwardly pats his back, signaling an end to the hug on her part. Hell, Sakura. The guy just had his heart broken. “Of—Of course. Sorry you had to hear it from me, and not Sasuke.”

Itachi ruffles her hair, his eyes warm as he looks at her, “We’re going to be alright, Sakura. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Of course,” she says, noticing how good he smells, and admonishing herself for noticing. Are her hands trembling? She’s pretty sure they are. God, what’s wrong with her?

“Are you cold?” Itachi asks her, but even as he’s doing so, he starts to yank his hoodie off to present it to her. “Here, I insist. The heat never worked right in any of the dormitories.”

No! She inwardly shrieks unintelligible gibberish. She has clothes here. Heck, she has her bed here, and she could very easily curl up in the blankets. She’s not cold, she’s nervous, she’s—horny, with her logic blinded by her anger with Sasuke? Either way, he noticed. Withering under his expectant gaze, Sakura takes the hoodie, slipping it on. She’s taken his hoodies and jackets a thousand times before, and it had always, always been an overly doting exchange between her and someone she’s seen tangentially—Sasuke’s older brother, so by extension, an older brother to her. What’s oversized on him, she’s practically swimming in. “Thanks,” she hoarsely responds, too embarrassed with herself to move. “I’ll, um, give this back to you next time we get together.”

“Keep it,” Itachi chuckles at her, heading for the door, “I have more. Be well, Sakura.”

When he’s gone, Sakura stares intently at her trembling hands, trying to force them to be still. Is it weird because she’s single now, or only because Ino planted some wicked thought in her head? Incredibly attractive, Ino had called him. Well, she wasn’t wrong. 

She lifts the torso of the hoodie to her nose, inhaling deeply. God, his cologne smells so good. Then, she realizes what she’s doing, and Sakura makes a strangled noise of shame and embarrassment and she yanks the hoodie off and shoves it as far into the closet as it will go. Sakura is torn between wanting to tell Ino off for sending her spiraling, or wanting to pretend this never happened—she handled meeting Itachi like a reasonable young woman, and not some cat in heat.

Sakura glances back at the closet, where Itachi’s hoodie is unceremoniously crumpled in the back. Well, it was warm, and was it a crime for her to think he smells good, or that he’s handsome? 

She shakes her head, trying to physically launch the thought from her brain. She glances at her small trash can, and the empty smoothie cup inside it. Dammit, Ino. She taps it with her foot, half-tempted to kick it across the room, but that would make an obvious mess. She grabs her laptop, looking for anything to focus on that wasn’t a damn boy. 

Homework. Homework isn’t sexy, right?

She thinks of her study date with Neji, and she can’t believe that was today. It felt like ages ago. Calm, collected Neji. A little flirty, but all business when she needed him to be. Maybe Ino was right—but not about the Itachi thing, about her putting herself back out there. Maybe she’s been in a relationship for so long, that being single was sending her hormones out of whack. Maybe it was the game. If she’s getting all of this action in her dreams, how is she supposed to wake up and function like a normal person? She’s supposed to not be thinking about boys—wait, she needs to text Neji. He’ll think she’s rude if she doesn’t.

Sakura sends him an apology, citing awkward ex-boyfriend drama and knowing that’s not exactly the best foot forward, and asks if he’d still like to go out on Sunday before she throws herself into a reading assignment until her muddled thoughts are consumed by the literature and theory chapter she’s reading. Once her phone buzzes, she grabs it to check. She chuckles at his response:

‘Don’t worry about it, I’m glad you’re alright. Yes, I can pick you up outside your dorm if you’d like.’

Thanks, but is she alright? Sakura rolls her eyes at herself. She never thought she was a dramatic person, but she’s starting to feel like the center of some deadly whirlpool between the game and her real life. She confirms the date with him, and then throws herself into her homework.

…

Zabuza nudges her awake, his hand running down her shoulder in order to rouse her. “It’s time,” he says it sternly, but he waits for her to get up, her cheek pressed into his shirt as she grumbles. 

“Five more minutes?” Sakura impishly throws her arm around his torso and curls her fingers into his shirt, treating him like a pillow—much like he had, the other night. She expects, like Gaara, that he will give in and enjoy their proximity for a little while longer.

“No,” Zabuza sits up, his arms steadying her to prevent her from falling, and he props her up. 

Sakura scrunches her nose, annoyed with him, and she’s about to complain when his fingers move to brush a few loose strands of hair from her face. 

He adjusts her headband for her, “You’re going to need time if you want to learn it today, and I wouldn’t dare say you’ll master it. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and I’d do you a disservice if I let you slack off more than we already have.”

Sakura almost points out that he’s the one who pulled her into bed when she was ready to go, but his expression stops her. The corners of his lips are turned up in a soft smile, the typical furrow of his brow is relaxed, and his brown eyes are focused intently on her frown. She suspects what he’s about to do before he does it.

Zabuza leans in to skim his lips over hers, grunting softly in lieu of asking her if it’s alright.

Almost timidly, surprised at this softer, quieter side to him, Sakura starts to nod—and as soon as she does, his lips are on hers. He’s the one who said they needed to get going, but here he is, his arms snaking around her hips to pull her in for slow, languid kisses that send warmth radiating throughout her body. “I thought you were in a rush,” Sakura mumbles between kisses, her eyes half-lidded.

Zabuza grunts back in return, shifting to kiss and suck along her jaw and down her neck, “I thought you said I deserve nice things. This is nice, and I’m greedy.” 

When he grazes his teeth against her skin, she shivers, practically melting in his arms. She can’t help but wonder if this is the result of her out of whack hormones in the real world, if that’s even possible. Well—It couldn’t hurt to blow off some steam, could it?

When he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot at the bottom of her neck, she lets out a soft whine, arching in his grip. 

“Ooh,” he mumbles huskily, and she can feel his lips pull into a smile against her neck, “I liked that noise. I wonder what other sweet sounds I can elicit from you.” His tongue licks along that spot, to soothe the hickey he probably left there.

Sakura’s hands run over his shoulders, up the nape of his neck, and she curls her fingers into his dark hair. She whimpers, tilting her head to the side to give him better access, and just as she’s about to fall into his arms and let him do whatever he’d like to her, he scoops her up and into the air in one fell swoop. She yelps, her legs wrapping around his torso, and on instinct, she leans forward to avoid falling. Her chest presses into his face, and she can feel his low chuckle from underneath her.

“Alright, enough fun.” He shifts her, plopping her feet on the floor, looking pleased as punch. 

Sakura flushes beet red, practically fuming with her embarrassment, “You think you’re so funny, embarrassing me.” She huffs, turning away, not wanting him to see the effect he’d had on her.

He ruffles her hair, chuckling at her petulance, “We’ll see how mad you are at me when you’re walking on water. Alright, I have to go put my bandages on.”

Sakura softens at that, “You don’t have to wear the bandages, you know.”

“Quit trying to get me back in bed,” he scoffs at her, eyes narrowing. Clearly, he thinks she’s outright lying—or at least a gentle fib.

“I wasn’t,” she puffs out her cheeks, riled up. She turns away, her nose in the air, “I’m just saying. I think you’re handsome, if that’s the only reason you wear the wraps.” 

He hesitates at that. He made his reason for wearing them perfectly clear. “I wouldn’t say it’s the only reason I wear them,” he says sheepishly. When that doesn’t earn a response from her, he grumbles, “Fine, but only today, and you better listen to everything I say.”

Sakura looks back at him, quirking a brow.

Zabuza fumbles, caught off guard, “I meant about the training.” He brings a hand up as he averts his eyes, covering his face—Sakura assumes he does it to make him feel less vulnerable, or in the hopes that she wouldn’t see his face flushed, but the dark blush works its way up his cheeks. 

Pfft. Sakura gives him a wry smile, “I knew what you meant.” She slips her shoes back on. Haku left some hair ties from their time waiting, when he was braiding and unbraiding her hair, and so she ties her hair up in a long ponytail. “Okay, I’m ready to go.”

Back at the riverbank, Sakura eyes the water warily. The first time she tried this, she almost drowned. The second time, she fainted—granted, she could argue that both of these failures were more so a result of her being careless: overusing her chakra to the point she was too weak to swim back to the riverbank, and of course, eating a questionable mushroom under the assumption that Haku had only collected medicine in the woods. 

Zabuza nudges her, a hand along her back, “First step, and then the second. You’re the master of the water.” His hand moves down, fingers hovering over her waist, ready to yank her up if he needs to.

She’s the master of the water. It sounds so cheesy, but it does spark some confidence in her. She cracks a smile, trying to focus her chakra into her feet—trying to feel as confident as she feels when she walks on the solid ground, like she can force it to support her weight. Sakura counts, urging herself forward: one, two, and three.

On three, she shifts forward, stepping onto the river. The surface holds. She can feel the thrum of chakra in her feet, supporting her, like it would as she climbs a tree or house. She can feel Zabuza’s grip tighten around her waist. Sakura takes another step, and when she still doesn’t fall through, her face brightens, looking up from her feet and over to Zabuza.

Zabuza chuckles at her, lips upturned, and Sakura’s a bit caught off guard by the warmth she feels. “Keep going,” he nudges her forward.

Sakura looks squarely ahead, a blush creeping up her face. She focuses on the shifting water underneath as she takes another step, and another, and another without falling. She doesn’t actually care about Zabuza, right? This is just another step forward—Sakura thinks of his childish whines as he curled up in her lap, or the anger he radiated when he was worried something was wrong with her.

Zabuza’s hand starts to drift from its position circled around her waist, trailing along her back, until he takes her hand so that he’s no longer supporting her.

Sakura, lost in her thoughts, registers the threading of his fingers in hers without thinking about it. She doesn’t realize this means that she’s doing it, she’s successfully walking across the water, until they’re over half of the way across and the current hasn’t pulled them downstream. 

“See?” Zabuza lifts her hand, his lips ghosting over her knuckles as his lips spread in a smile, “You’re doing it.”

Sakura looks behind her, and then back at Zabuza, but with the spell broken, her walking doesn’t come as naturally. He holds her hand, trying to steady her, as she walks doe-legged across the water. “Oh my god,” Sakura squeaks in excitement, “I’m doing it!” She stumbles, and Zabuza pulls her up and into his arms, keeping her steady until she can regain her footing.

“You’re overthinking it,” Zabuza chuckles at her, waiting for her to regain her balance on the water before he lets go.

Sakura looks up at him, his eyes crinkled at the corners in his amusement, and gulps. She is overthinking it. 

“What?” Zabuza asks her, quirking a brow.

Sakura grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging down, “You should kiss me.” She stands on her toes, her knees wobbling, but the water holds.

“Oh, I should, should I?” One of his hands resumes its position, intertwining his fingers with hers, and the other moves to grip the bottom of her chin. Brown eyes meet jade green.

“You definitely should,” Sakura can’t help but feel nervous, her voice coming out quieter than she intends it to, but not quite a whisper. She’s not sure why she’s nervous. It’s not their first kiss, not by a long shot at this point. 

Zabuza leans down, pressing his lips to hers, soft for someone she’d considered so brutish upon their first meeting. His palm drifts from her chin, caressing her cheek and trailing to her back in order to pull her into him.

Sakura parts her lips for him, tilting her head to press further into their kiss. She feels fluttering in her chest, her hands pressed against his abdomen to help her keep her balance. His muscles are firm under his shirt—Christ, why is everyone in this game so ridiculously attractive?

Zabuza, distracted, captivated by her, loses his footing on the water for the first time since he was a child. He lets go of her, trying to spare her from falling in with him, but the splash and resounding ripples break her connection between her chakra and the surface of the water. 

Sakura sucks in a breath, shutting her eyes as she gets ready to go underwater. But she never submerges, her sandal-clad feet hitting soft mud as the water sloshes to about her chest. 

Zabuza’s hands dart out to grab her, stopping the current from sweeping her off her feet by circling around her waist. 

The water is cold, her nerves prickling, and she shudders and she releases the breath she’d sucked in. 

“I’ve got you,” Zabuza says, mouth twisted to one side, clearly abashed.

“I didn’t realize the water was this shallow here,” Sakura says, still shocked at the temperature change. 

“Of course,” Zabuza grumbles, “I picked the spot in case you fell in. Alright, this part’s a little harder, but it’s overall good practice for standing on the water. You need to infuse the chakra into your hands to pull yourself out, and to your knees to hoist yourself up. It’s a little harder than doing the feet, since you’re focusing on a few spots.”

Sakura pauses, registering that. He’s a… surprisingly thoughtful person, once she’s even remotely past his threatening ninja persona. The kind of person who adopts orphans, or acts vulnerable when he’s sick, or picks a safe place to train a girl he acts like he doesn’t care about. The kind of person to plan a revolution in order to destroy the broken systems in his country, and the kind of person strong enough to try and execute it. She tries to focus the chakra into her hands, pressing her palms to the surface of the water and giving a push. Sakura starts to hoist herself up.

“There you go,” Zabuza says quietly, hands hovering nearby in case she falls back into the water. 

Sakura gains the leverage to raise her leg up, her knee sliding up and onto the surface. She pulls herself up—were she not in soggy, unflattering sweatpants, she’d have assumed Zabuza did this for the view of her ass as he teaches her to get out of the river. “What happened?” Sakura asks, and once she’s up she rises unsteadily to her feet, “Did you slip?”

Once she’s out of the water, Zabuza hoists himself out easily, rising to his feet with a swiftness earned by countless hours of his own practice. He looks at her sternly for a moment, not wanting to admit it, but his facade cracks with a chuckle, “I was a bit more distracted than I usually am.” 

Sakura laughs brightly, “So we’ll keep our makeout sessions on the land, got it.”

“That’s not what I said,” Zabuza scoffs. As he turns toward her, Sakura is surprised by the shimmering orange of his heart meter.

Her amusement falters. Oh. 

He notices the change in her expression, and he reaches up to tug on her ear, “Is something wrong?”

Yes. No. She’s moving on, which is what she wants, right? But she feels like she’s just started to crack Zabuza. She feels a little cheated out of the beginning of the route; Sakura spent all of that time fighting him. There’s more to him than that scary persona he put on. 

“If you keep thinking so hard, you’ll fall in again,” Zabuza chides her. “What’s on your mind?”

Sakura tries to play it off, beaming with a brightness she didn’t truly feel, “I was just thinking about the road to making you the Mizukage.” She doesn’t need to be sad, right? She’ll get to see him in the next Act, just like she’ll get to see Deidara and Gaara again. And then, after that… well, Sai said there are special events, so maybe that’s not the end either. It’s a game, it’s all just a—

“You don’t need to smile at me with your eyes like that,” he lightly pinches the apple of her cheek, stretching her smile for a moment before releasing it. He tugs on her hand, urging her to keep walking, “About that… I won’t hold you to what you said. It’s a hard road, what Haku and I are plotting to do, and your inexperience will expose you to a lot of potential danger.”

“Zabuza…” Sakura trails off, surprised. He’s offering her an out. She thought that in the routes, she’s meant to intertwine her fate with that of the love interest.

“You know,” Zabuza starts, letting out a husky chuckle, “unlike the reputation that precedes me would have you believe, I didn’t spawn from the depths of hell. I once came from a loving home, with two parents. My mother died giving birth to my younger brother Saito, and my father was never the same afterward. He was useless, overwhelmed with his grief, crushed under the weight of that lost love. I’ve always thought I resembled him, and I’ve always hated it.”

Ah, so he’s putting together the pieces from the preview. Sakura rubs her thumb along his skin soothingly as they walk, and she finds that the more steps she takes, the less she needs to focus on the water. She thinks she’s got it. 

“My brother was always sickly, and we were always hungry. I blamed my father, but I also blamed the system—a system of poverty that offered one true way out, the slaughter of your own classmates after graduation, in order to attain one of the only professions that paid a decent wage. But the academy, and the graduation exam, was a long way away and Saito was getting worse by the day, with no hope for medicine in sight. So, I took my fate into my own hands. And at least that time, I won.”

“When you killed the graduating class,” Sakura quietly adds.

“That’s right. I had to win so undeniably that they’d have no choice but to recognize my potential as a shinobi.” They reach the riverbank on the other side, but the mood has been sombered. “Saizo got his medicine,” Zabuza pauses a beat, ruffling her hair, as if to commemorate her accomplishment in making it across, “and then three weeks later, he died anyway. There are, I think, a couple of reasons for me telling you this. One, I would do anything for the people who are important to me. Anything. And sometimes even that isn’t enough.”

Sakura sighs softly, reaching up to press her hand to his chest, his heartbeat thrumming firmly from under his shirt, “Two, even the demon of the Hidden Mist is a man. He came from somewhere. A shinobi cannot truly bury their heart.”

He places his hand overtop hers, his lips twitching up in a hint of a smile, “What I’m trying to say is—If I leave you with my heart, to do what I have to do, can I come back for it someday? If I leave you with my secrets, can you hold them in your own heart, until I can stand before you, as the Mizukage and a champion of my people? Until I can ask the Hokage for your hand and offer you a life that isn’t shady hideouts and back alley deals for scraps of spare change?”

He’s offering for her to stay, safe and out of the way, until his dream is already fulfilled—and she understands. A coup is a bloody road, and like his brother, Zabuza must be worried that he can do everything in his power to protect her and he might fail anyway. “I see what you’re saying,” Sakura smiles warmly. “But if it’s alright with you, I would rather stay by your side for as long as I can. Whether that’s today, or many years from now.” She knows that when his heart turns red, he’ll confess and be lost to her, but for the sake of his dream—for the sake of the poor and suffering that need him to succeed—she wants him to know that she believes in him.

He turns his head away from her, and Sakura realizes that he’s tearing up.  “I’ve done nothing to deserve the allies I have,” he nudges her toward the river, a silent indication that he’d like to cross back over.

“Sure you did,” Sakura follows his lead, taking the hint that he’d like to not discuss the tears he’s trying to sneakily wipe when he thinks she isn’t looking, “you rescued and raised an orphan, and he plucked me out of a river.” On the way back, her steps only falter a few times as they cross the shifting current, and she doesn’t fall in. She’s getting stronger, step by step. Sakura can feel her chakra, the weight of it in her feet, and knows that someday she’ll walk across rivers as confidently as she would walk across the dirt.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Three: Zabuza Momochi - Red Heart

While Sakura is disappointed that Zabuza has his heart-to-heart with Haku where she can’t hear, or at least she has just enough pride to stop her from sticking her ear to the door and trying, she’s just as touched when the pair enters and they’re both a little red around the eyes. 

Haku looks at her warmly, like he wants to thank her for speaking to Zabuza on his behalf but he doesn’t want to embarrass Zabuza any further—it must’ve been hard for him to apologize, considering his generally stern and stoic personality—so instead, he greets her with a sweet smile.

Sakura smiles at them both, leaning back in the bed and allowing herself to finally relax now that she doesn’t have to sit and wonder how it all went. 

Zabuza brusquely wipes his eyes, quickly crossing the room to sit near her on the edge of the bed. He’s wearing his bandages again, which doesn’t surprise Sakura. It must’ve been a pretty vulnerable conversation for him. Surely, there are other bathrooms in the suite he and Haku share besides the one in the master bathroom. Maybe he wanted to avoid her suggesting he go without. Zabuza clears his throat, “So, the plan for the morning is this: Haku is going to wait in the woods outside Tazuna’s home, and he’ll intercept the mercenaries targeting Tazuna’s family while he’s at the bridge. Meanwhile, Sakura and I will present ourselves at the bridge to Kakashi and the team. Sakura, you’re going to explain that we’re here to stop Gato and his mercenaries from targeting the bridge. Kakashi isn’t going to take my word for it, so you’ll have to be convincing.”

“I can do that,” Sakura says. She’s on their team, after all. She assumes her teacher will trust her. He’ll have to, won’t he? For the sake of the bridge, at least. Plus, once the mercenaries show up, it’ll validate her story. She wonders what they must’ve thought happened to her when she disappeared at that river. Did they think she was captured by enemy ninja, or did they think she was careless enough to almost drown? Though, technically, both are true. 

“Your little teammates will probably believe you, but Kakashi is experienced enough to think I’ve brainwashed you, or I’m threatening you to play along,” Zabuza says, turning to Haku, “but it should buy us enough time that, if Gato’s mercenaries haven’t shown up by now to show we’re telling the truth, then Haku can drag a dead assassin or two back to show them.”

“Alright,” Haku confirms, head tilting to the side. “And then what happens, after we kill all of Gato’s mercenaries?” He looks back to Sakura, in an unspoken question—Will she be leaving with her team?

Zabuza glances at her, and then back at Haku, “Sakura will be joining us. I don’t have any fantasy about her team liking it, but the bridgebuilder will be safe, and if they have any decency, they’ll chalk it up to losing her back in the river. If their decency is outweighed by duty, then Sakura will be reported as a missing nin, but what’s one more note under my section in the Leaf Bingo Book?”

Haku hums softly, looking to Sakura, “This is what you want?”

It surprises Sakura that Haku would outright question Zabuza’s plan in front of him to ask for her perspective. Sakura chooses to be flattered that he’s worried about her wellbeing. While she had positive feelings toward the Leaf village from her time in the first route, and she convinced Deidara in the second route to bring her there, that’s not the path Zabuza seems destined to take. “I’m sure. I know it will be a hard road, and I have a long way to go to be stronger, but I would like to stay, if that’s alright with you.”

Haku perks up, “I would love for you to join us, Sakura.” He looks over to Zabuza for final confirmation, and when the man nods, Haku turns back to her, “I can teach you to throw senbon, and which herbs you can eat, and—”

“Alright, Haku,” Zabuza interrupts with a chuckle. “The mission at hand.”

“Right, sorry,” Haku stifles a chuckle, teasing, “it will just be nice to have a friendly face joining us. And someone so lovely, at that.”

Zabuza sputters, turning away, “Enough.”

Sakura covers her mouth to try and hold in her laughter, but it must be evident on her face, because Zabuza shoots her a look of betrayal. Sakura shrugs, a playful grin on her lips, “I can’t help being lovely, Zabuza.”

Haku shoots her a faux-innocent smile, “Though, I don’t suppose you’ll be needing my room anymore, hmm?” He taps the side of his neck. “I suppose my clothes are still a better fit.”

Sakura squeaks, her hand darting up to smack over the suspected spot on her neck. She forgot to check for a hickey—not that she had a scarf or anything to cover it up with.

“I believe I have some makeup that will do the trick for that, if you don’t want your teammates—former teammates—to see,” Haku shoots Zabuza a knowing look. “I don’t think the boys would be overly pleased. I mean, they might assume when Sakura runs off with us, but it’s probably best to err on the side of caution.”

Sakura flushes, embarrassed to be chastised on her hickey protocol—she’s been hiding them around Sasuke’s family successfully for years, and has never once been caught with a hickey. 

To save her the embarrassment, Zabuza stands, signaling their meeting is coming to an end. “Alright, Haku. We’ll store our belongings at point three and be ready to move out from there at dawn,” Zabuza grumbles, kicking his shoes off, clearly getting ready for bed. “Be up and ready to go by two at the latest. We don’t know which hideout Gato’s at, or if he’s even coming to the confrontation at the bridge, so we need enough time to prepare so we’re not dead on our feet. If we want his assets, we need to be on him and his cronies fast. Once Gato’s dead, the mercenaries will start to grab what they can from his hideouts and scatter.”

Two—and ready to go by dawn? Two in the morning? Sakura holds in a groan. She’d volunteered for a hard life, hadn’t she? And she was the one who wanted to make Zabuza and Haku help complete the Leaf village’s mission in the Land of Waves. It’s not as though Zabuza cares what happened to this particular village. But maybe, or so she muses, he does. He treats everything like business, because in a way, that’s how shinobi—especially a missing nin like him—needs to be in order to make any money. Sacrifice a bridgebuilder in a poor country today to save the poor in your own country—a difficult life, full of difficult choices, indeed. 

“I’ll be ready,” Haku affirms brightly, taking the hint, and offering them both a polite bow of his head before he departs. 

Alone in the room, Sakura partially expects Zabuza to jump her bones the moment they’re alone, but instead he turns to her and casually instructs, “I would normally tell you not to use the scented soap before a mission to avoid detection, but Gato’s mercenaries are all a bunch of idiots and arrogant assholes, so do what you want.”

Sakura stares blankly for a moment, perplexed. If it doesn’t matter, then why mention it at all? Why does he even have scented soap then? The answer hits her—Duh, it’s because he likes the smell, and he most likely brought it up because he likes the scent of his soap and shampoo on her. “Oh good,” Sakura says, standing up and stretching, “I like the way it smells.” 

Zabuza flushes, and Sakura knows that she was spot on—she’d just implied to him in return that not only did she like the way he smells, she’d prefer to smell like him. That’s some downright carnal attraction. He begins to undo his wrappings, setting his headband on his nightstand. 

“So, when you become Mizukage, do I have to wear cow print clothing too?”

He snorts, and it surprises Sakura. “It’s supposed to be mist,” he says, tugging the garments in question off of his arms, “so that our limbs blend into the area when we fight in the fog and catch our opponents off guard.”

Sakura glances at them, and then back up at Zabuza’s face, her lips quirking in amusement, “As much sense as that makes, that’s cow print. I don’t make the rules. I also noticed you started wearing a shirt all the time. I’m not saying that I’m complaining, but I’m not not saying that I’m complaining.” 

Zabuza approaches quickly, catching Sakura off guard, and he looms over her, using his height to flop her backward, onto the bed. His hands ghost her sides, fingers tracing along the fabric of her black shirt, “I think you’d look lovely in pinstripes, myself.” 

Sakura squeaks, ticklish, “Please don’t make me wear pinstripes.”

“Pfft,” he reaches up, his hand tilting her jaw so that he can lean down and place an affectionate kiss to the blossoming bruise he’d left along her neck from their last time in this very bed, “when I’m in charge, I’ll decree that my wife will wear pinstripes or nothing at all.” 

“Wife, eh?” Sakura forces out a chuckle to hide the warmth that blooms as his lips pepper kisses up her neck and across her jaw, until he’s reached her lips, swallowing her chuckle in a firm kiss. 

“That’s what I said,” he mumbles huskily, lips brushing over hers as he speaks. 

“If you want a naked wife running around, that’s your prerogative,” Sakura nudges him backward until she’s sitting up, her head level with his chest as he climbs on to the bed, practically straddling her. 

“I most certainly do,” he surprises her by swinging a leg over, freeing her as he flops onto the bed. “Go get your shower,” he grumbles, staring up at the ceiling, “before I keep you up all night, knowing we have to be well rested and out of here early as hell.”

Sakura brings her hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Are you sure?” She asks through her fingers, quietly amused at his self-restraint. At least he’s acknowledging two is early as hell—she was a little worried about life on the road with him.

“Don’t ask any more questions, you need to be able to walk tomorrow,” Zabuza scoffs. “I’m just a man. Be quick about it, I need a cold shower.” 

Sakura slides out of the bed, lips pulled in a sly smile as she heads for the bathroom. Haku had left her a new, navy blue shirt and gray sweatpants to sleep in, and her normal clothes were folded there as well. She takes the pajamas, and heads to the bathroom, prepping her towel on the counter for when she gets out. Sakura starts to shimmy her current—still damp—pair of sweatpants off. She glances up, into the mirror, and she almost shrieks in alarm.

“Poor, blue-balls Zabuza,” Sai huffs from behind her. “Almost makes you pity the man.” 

“Sai!” Sakura yanks down the hem of her shirt with one hand, the other fumbling to pull her bottoms back up. “You pervert!”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you shouldn’t stay in wet clothes?” Sai ignores her, eyes level with hers. He doesn’t bother to look down, but his even stare makes her feel as embarrassed as though he had.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you shouldn’t barge in on people naked?” Sakura hisses, her face flushed. “You’re making the bathroom thing a pretty suspicious habit.” The fact that their clothes mostly dried on the walk back to the hideout was a moot point to the more pressing issue at hand: his spying. 

“You aren’t naked,” Sai protests petulantly, crossing his arms. “Your human etiquette is hardly relevant to me. I’m not peeping on you. If I must cover my eyes, it’s only for your comfort, and what’s the point in covering them if there’s nothing to see—”

“Excuse me?” Sakura inhales sharply, brow twitching with her annoyance.

“Your torso is covered by your shirt, and I was looking at your face,” Sai deadpans. “I waited until you were in the bathroom then, because it’s more convenient for me to see you when you aren’t being trailed by vicious criminals.”

Sakura squints at him, “What are you talking about? You’ve never had a problem pausing the game while other characters were around before.”

“Yes, well,” he shifts away, studying the shower curtain with keen interest, “it’s a lot easier when the character’s aren’t practically dry-humping your legs.” His hands fall to his sides.

Sakura takes pause at that, caught off guard. That was a… surprisingly childish thing to say, especially for someone—something like Sai. If he didn’t say it with that dry, casual tone of his—If he was someone that she knew in her real life, well, she might even think he’s jealous. But that couldn’t be it. Right? “Sai,” Sakura starts warily, “you’re not… jealous, right?”

His attention snaps back to her, eyes wide for a moment before he offers her a slim, fake smile, “Of course not. It’s merely inconvenient to pause the game during an interaction, and the characters are often interacting with you. This was my attempt, perhaps a poor attempt at that, at a joke, to better relate to a human’s crude sense of humor.” He tilts his head, “From your expression, it doesn’t appear I was successful. It’s my understanding that you need comfort and humor in order to better enjoy the routes, so the ending doesn’t result in the same level of distress.” 

Sakura registers that, slowly nodding, “So, you were just trying to make me feel better because the route’s ending soon, and you were trying to make a sex joke?” Well, that’s a relief. “And that’s why you hugged me last time, too.” When Sakura thinks about it, it makes sense. Sai was certainly thrown off when she was upset, in a game where she’s supposed to be strictly having fun, so as the guide he’s trying to figure out how to remedy the situation—probably studying game scripts and guessing at making himself a comforting, human-esque program for her to project onto as a friend.

“Exactly. Please seek comfort in me, if you need a friend.”

Sakura’s lips twist to one side in a lopsided grin, her arms reaching out to roughly yank him into a hug, “Thanks, Sai. You’re the best.”

Sai hesitates, before he reaches around to return the gesture, awkwardly patting her back. He settles his cheek into the crook of her neck, growing more comfortable, “This is nice.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Sakura chuckles, “Same old Sai.” At least some things stay the same. She shifts back, releasing him from the hug, “Did you come see me to say hello?”

Sai hesitates, blanking for a moment. “Yes and no. I came to check on your progression. This is a difficult route.” 

Sakura nods, her fingers moving to play with the hem of her shirt, “Yeah, Zabuza was definitely prickly at first, but he warmed up to me. I don’t think I saw him at the Chunin Exams in Gaara’s route, so he must become the Mizukage later. Or maybe the Mizukage wasn’t there, I don’t really remember. This mission was mostly redacted in my character history, I assume until I’ve played a relevant route, so I’m excited to see what happens.” Sakura chatters on, slipping into a small smile, “This world is a lot more complex than at full glance. Sad, in a lot of ways, but Zabuza is going to help people. I can’t wait to see it in his Act Two.”

Sai opens his mouth, before closing it sharply once more. 

Of course, Sakura catches it, and warily she asks, “What is it?”

“Well,” Sai admits, averting his eyes, “the core story of the game follows a straight line, a lore if you will, and for each of the Routes you’re placed somewhere on that line that branches off as you make choices that determine the future of the game. Some of them may run parallel to the story at its core, or the route may veer off in a new direction of your design. But when it’s time for a new route, you’re beginning somewhere along that original line once more, free to branch off again.”

 Sakura considers that—She’d already wondered how the game works, and it makes sense that when she resets to the neutral lobby, she’d have to be returning somewhere, but that was weird to hear so openly. “So what happens to Zabuza in the main story? Does he become the Mizukage?”

“That information is meant to be redacted until you complete either his or Haku’s route. Are you sure you want to know?” 

Sakura has a sinking feeling, “Well… no, I don’t think I do.”

That takes Sai by surprise, “O-Oh. Alright then.” 

“You said the paths veer off depending on my actions, right?” Sakura doesn’t wait for an answer, reaching up to toy with a section of her hair in order to appease her nerves, “So… even if Zabuza doesn’t become the Mizukage in the real story, at least this time—I think he can do it. So with all of that positivity in my heart, at least in this route, I’ll do my best to make that dream come true. If the information was redacted, isn’t that how it’s meant to be? Isn’t the story meant to go however I make it go? So then, I’ll charge in blind and full of faith, or whatever.” She taps Sai on the nose, “It’s just a game, right?”

Sai eyes her suspiciously, “So you’ll be fine, even when the routes end?”

“Of course not,” Sakura huffs, running her fingers through her hair to work through the day’s stubborn knots forming—she may as well make use of Sai and his paused time. “God, that shit hurts.”

Sai twists his mouth to the side in half of a frown, “I don’t understand you.”

“Oh, sweet, naive Sai,” Sakura winces as her fingers catch on a particularly tough knot, “that’s because I’m a mess. But I’m going to keep showing up here, at least in the lobby, unless I beat all of the routes right? So that means I’m going to have to know people I really care about don’t remember me at all. Or when they do, it causes them pain. That’s awful.” She thinks of the look on Gaara’s face when he remembered her, of her worries over Deidara and his bug patches over the mug she’d left him. Could something like that happen in the lobby? But then, is she supposed to hide in her house when she sleeps, every night, for the rest of her life? “I need to beat this game.”

Sai hums thoughtfully, resuming his normal slim smile, “I see. I wish you luck.”

Pfft. Well, she’ll need it, after all. “Thanks, Sai,” Sakura chuckles. “But in true Leaf spirit, I think I’m gonna bulldoze my way through it.”

Between blinks, he’s gone, leaving her to her shower. She washes her hair, relishing the hot water, and when she uses Zabuza’s soap she can’t help the fond smile at the earthy smell. Pine, maybe? Some sort of woodsy scent. In the real world, it would probably have some silly marketable name like rain-soaked moss or freshly dug roots. It’s not her usual style, but the scent’s undoubtedly intertwined with Zabuza, so she’s fond of it anyway. 

Sakura emerges from the shower, refreshed and ready to curl up in bed. She changes, heading out, and Zabuza affectionately pats her head as he goes in for his turn in the shower. Sakura heads to bed, fluffing out the blankets and making herself comfortable as she waits for him. Her eyes grow heavy, and soon she dozes off, though the light’s still on.

…

After her classes, Sakura is happy to be back at the gardening club. She’s startled to see Haku, but only in passing—he is desperately leafing through a copy of Hamlet while the other members talk about the watering schedule—so she doesn’t get a change to really talk to him before he gives his hasty goodbyes and leaves the meeting early. Everyone gets it—in college, there’s often a last minute project or assignment. 

This time, Hinata asks Sakura if she’d like a spot on the watering schedule, since she’s started attending regularly. Sakura likes the idea of something in her life that’s a strict routine, and she thinks she’s gotten to know the plants pretty well from her visits, so she says yes. The conversation shifts to next spring, and the plans for the tulips the club wanted to grow so that they can plant them all around the campus.

Gaara surprises her by approaching her at the end of the meeting, “Are you going to Autumnfest?” He clutches the straps of his bag, fiddling with them. 

Cute. Sakura notices the familiar red flush at the tips of his ears. God, she misses her Gaara. “Oh,” Sakura fumbles, realizing that she hasn’t responded to the real Gaara, “er, sorry, what’s Autumnfest?”

“It’s a University sponsored event, for most of the day it’s a basic Fall festival—caramel apple booths, pumpkin carving, corn maze on the quad, that sort of thing—except since it’s right before Halloween, everybody dresses up. At night, one of the fraternities hosts a haunted house, and a lot of the people living near campus do open bonfires.”

Sakura perks up, “Actually, I think I have heard about that. That sounds really fun.”

Relieved by her enthusiasm, Gaara scuffs his shoe against the concrete floor, “Yeah? Well, I was thinking, maybe—”

“Ooh,” Ino jumps in, leisurely slinging an arm around Sakura’s shoulders, “you know, I heard about that too. Actually, I think it was Shino, and I think he was saying we should all go in a group.” Ino smiles with faux brightness at Gaara, knowing fully well that Sakura will agree if it means she gets to see everyone. “The more the merrier, right Sakura?”

Sakura, distracted by the prospect of a day full of fun with her friends, doesn’t notice Gaara’s shoulders deflate, “Yeah! I’ll have to think of a costume. Oh, I’ll have to text Shino and ask him to invite Kiba, and you should text Shikamaru and Choji, ah,” Sakura refocuses on Gaara, grinning, “Gaara, you should invite Temari and Kankuro too.”

Gaara perks up at the prospect of inviting his siblings, and though he sends a wary glance Ino’s way, he still asks, “We could do a jack-o-lantern together?” 

Sakura bobs her head in agreement, “I haven’t carved one since I was little.”

“Can I come?” Hinata pipes up, wandering over from the plants, a tomato in hand.

“Obviously,” Ino teases, letting go of Sakura to place her hands on her hips. “Tell me that we shouldn’t be ‘Slutty Powerpuff Girls,’ because we definitely should.”

Sakura chokes on her spit, “Specifically slutty?”

“It’s Halloween,” Ino protests. “Well, right before Halloween. Halloween-ish. Sakura, you’ve seen Mean Girls, you know the rules.” Though she’d just sabotaged him, Ino turns to Gaara for support, “Come on, wouldn’t Sakura make the cutest Blossom?” 

Gaara, who’d never seen the show, tries to avoid the embarrassment of missing the reference by agreeing, “You definitely would, Sakura. Ah, but I’m sure you’d look nice, no matter the costume.”

“Come on, that’s a coward’s answer, you’ll look amazing,” Ino motions over to Hinata, “you can be Buttercup, and I’ll be Bubbles.”

Faced with that level of enthusiasm, with no idea what she’s in for, Sakura chuckles and agrees, “Alright, alright, I’m in. What about you, Hinata?”

“Sounds like fun,” Hinata smiles warmly. 

“Okay, I have to get going, I have an online unit due at midnight.” Sakura checks her phone, letting out an exaggerated sigh, “You’d think I was studying to be a zoologist, not a doctor, with the amount I’ve had to learn about freaking frogs.” With a cheery smile, she says goodbye to her friends, excited at the prospect of a good time.

…

Sakura had dozed off at some point waiting for Zabuza to shower, but she wakes when his weight shifts the mattress. Sakura’s eyes flutter open, but the room’s dark—he must’ve turned off the light before going to bed. She considers rolling over, but Zabuza acts faster. 

His arm slings over her, and he presses his chest to her back, effectively spooning her. 

Sakura snuggles into him. He’s still warm, and she can’t help but notice the firm muscles of his torso and arm as he holds her against him. 

With his head nestled comfortably near hers, and his arm slung lazily above her hip, he mumbles huskily, “Couldn’t resist. Sorry, go back to sleep. You need to rest for tomorrow.”

Sakura’s lips curl up in a soft smile, “Alright. Goodnight, Zabuza.”

“Goodnight,” he says back, and soon, they’re both drifting off.

When Zabuza wakes her with a gentle nudge to her shoulder, he gives her a minute to groggily transition from asleep to awake before he flicks on the light. He looks at her face, and she must look as exhausted as she felt, because he shakes his head at her, “Let’s get moving. We have to be quick.”

“I’m up,” Sakura answers on autopilot, getting dressed with little regard for the fact that Zabuza’s in the room. She changes, already missing the comfort of the sweatpants—it was a lot closer to her typical college attire—and by the time she turns around, Zabuza is wrapping the lower half of his face in bandages.

He’s already dressed, wearing all black except for his pinstripe leg and arm warmers. For his legs, at least, they seem to be part of his boot. 

Sakura cracks a smile. She’ll never understand his sense of fashion, but it’s better than the cow print. Besides, he has a sort of stern charisma. If anyone’s going to pull it off, it might as well be Zabuza. 

Zabuza looks her up and down, his brows knitting, “Maybe we should put you back in the neutral colors. You’ve got a walking kunai target on your back.”

“I thought you wanted me in my normal outfit to put my teammates in ease,” Sakura chuckles. “Besides, Naruto runs around in orange and he seems to do alright.” 

Zabuza grunts. Obviously, he’d picked them out easily enough in his mist, so he knows pink and red aren’t exactly colors that blend in. He gathers his sword, strapping his weapon to his back carefully, “Well, Kakashi did a decent enough job protecting the lot of you, and you’ll have Haku and me this time, so don’t go sticking your nose into trouble and you’ll be okay.” 

Sakura inwardly notes that this game has a knack for sticking her nose into trouble: the battle with the Sound and Orochimaru, the confrontation by Sasori and then later both Itachi and Kisame, plus her capture by the enemy ninja who had recently tried to kill them all—Zabuza himself. She suspects that the routes are simply meant to be troublesome. But what’s she supposed to do, explain the logistics of plot and conflict and how they’re probably preprogrammed into his route for tension? Don’t worry about trouble because it’ll probably find her no matter what? So she makes a joke of it, cheekily responding, “Don’t worry about me, I am the trouble.”

Zabuza huffs, clearly not satisfied with that answer, “Just stick in the middle of us and your teammates, will you? Haku I don’t have to worry about because I’ve trained him myself, but you—I have no idea how you are in a fight.”

To tell the truth, Sakura doesn’t have much of an idea of how she is in a fight. She fought Ino once with the help of a mini-game, and she did kill another shinobi at the end of Gaara’s route, but throwing Sasori was a lucky blow that she hasn’t practiced to replicate on command. Don’t even get her started on escaping Itachi—whatever glitch or unknown providence of the game had helped her escape his mangekyou, as Deidara had called it, Sakura is pretty sure it won’t help her in a regular fight. “I might surprise you,” Sakura quips the half-truth vaguely. ‘Surprise’ works whether she’s better or worse than expected.”

Zabuza equips her with weapons. Sakura had expected it, of course, since they’re about to go into battle, but the trust in the gesture of handing her—his former captive—the kunai knives and shuriken that they’d confiscated with her capture isn't completely lost on her. He doesn’t even wait for her to tuck them away before he turns, pulling small scrolls from his drawers and tucking them into his pockets. 

Sakura tucks the weapons into her pouch, glancing up at Zabuza and studying the sword strapped to his back and wondering if she could ever pull off a weapon so cool. She doesn’t know much about it, or weapons in general, but she assumes that the half-circle along the edge of the blade is for beheading. It’s certainly not a stealthy weapon, and it looked heavy—she’d seen it lodged into a tree, and Zabuza’s brisk attempts to use it on them during battle, and she can’t help but wonder what the sword’s true potential is. Curious, she approaches, raising her hand to skim her fingers along the surface of the blade.

“Careful,” Zabuza chastises her sternly without even looking back, “the blade’s sharper than you probably think it is.” 

Sakura’s hand shrinks back, a little embarrassed at being called out so obviously, even though she wasn’t planning to touch the edge of the blade. “Sorry,” Sakura says sheepishly

Zabuza turns to her, a brow raised, “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s no Samehada. I’m the blade’s master, and as its master, my blade drinks the blood of my enemies and makes itself sharp as the day it was forged, when it drinks.” 

Sakura doesn’t recognize the word, and the explanation for his sword makes no sense to her either. 

Her confusion must be evident in her face, because Zabuza rests his hand on the crown of her head, “I won’t raise it against you, so if you’re careful not to cut your fingers on it, you have nothing to fear. Are you ready to go?” 

Sakura nods, chalking the ‘blood of his enemies’ bit up to some figurative language. She’s dressed, she’s got her weapons, she’s at least half-awake. Sakura glances down at his orange heart meter, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” For the battle, for the end, for whatever comes next. 

Zabuza takes one last look at the room, but he doesn’t dwell on it, “Alright, let’s go.” He holds up a bag he’s packed, either before he joined her for bed or before she’d woken up, hoisting it over his shoulder.

“Oh, wait,” Sakura glances toward the bathroom door, thinking of how he’d liked the scent of his soap on her, “did you grab the—?”

“I did,” he shifts, averting his eyes from her and grumbling. One of his hands reaches out to grab hers and the other reaches up to flick off the light. “Stay quiet, and stay with me.”

In the dark, he must open the door so stealthily that she can’t hear it, because he leads her through and turns down the hallway. Zabuza guides her effortlessly through the winding hideout, lights off or dim as most of the crew is fast asleep in preparation for their mission tomorrow—a mission that, if Sakura and her newly found allies had anything to say about it, would end in utter failure as they rescue Tazuna’s family and her former team. Well, her team didn’t know they were former quite yet, and she can’t imagine they’ll be thrilled about it, but she hopes the whole rescue aspect softens the blow. 

Sakura thinks of overly eager Naruto and already grumpy Sasuke. Even Kakashi had been nice to her, when she’d been hurt trying to reach Gaara on the rooftop, even though he did say she was supposed to be the easy student. Sakura has to stifle a chuckle, wandering through the dark criminal hideout with her missing nin boyfriend. She assumes this will hurt their feelings, probably even their friendship points, but she wants to do what feels right, and that means going with Zabuza. 

Before she knows it, they’re outside of the hideout, eluding the few guards dozing off on their shifts—though Gato had many enemies, it seems few are expected to be bold enough to attack any of the bases. That makes sense. If Gato moves around frequently, pinpointing him is bound to be tough, and a fruitless attack on any of his bases to kill the nameless plethora of mercenaries that work there is only bound to tighten Gato’s defenses. That’s the outcome Zabuza fears with the bridge: having to hunt Gato down until multiple, or even all, of his bases are cleared. 

When Zabuza pauses as they enter the forest in order to make sure no one has followed them, Sakura looks up at the sky through the canopy of leaves. It’s lovely, what she can see if it anyway, a dark expanse speckled with stars. The moonlight shines through, illuminating some spots of the forest floor. Close to one such spot, Sakura sticks her fingertips into the soft light, admiring the ethereal view.

Zabuza’s hand darts out to grab her wrist, pulling her back. “Stay in the shadows,” he whispers to her, so quiet she can barely hear him. His hold loosens, thumb tracing over her wrist as a silent apology for pulling too hard. 

Sakura nods, but she’s not sure whether he’s paying attention to her or looking for potential enemies. 

Zabuza leads her through the forest, surely at a slower pace than he’d like, moving carefully so that Sakura wouldn’t trip or stumble as they run. 

Sakura’s a little embarrassed, clearly out of her element, and wondering how she can get better at seeing in the dark. But she maintains the pace, and they maintain that slow run until they reach their destination—it seems to be an outfitted hunting stand, but it’s old, and not well cared for. Squinting to make anything out in the slim rays of light, she can see that it’s partially collapsed, and the rungs of the ladder are rotted through. “This is… your safe house?” She expected something with walls.

“I’m sure you see why Gato’s employment was so appealing,” Haku’s voice calls out from above, and Sakura peers up into the darkness to try and find him. “But this spot is an old favorite: easy to defend and hardly suspicious.” Haku leaps down from the branches overhead, landing gracefully in front of them both, “I’ve already scouted the perimeter. We’re alone.”

Zabuza begins to climb the tree. He assumes, accurately, that if Sakura has learned water-walking, then she’s learned how to climb a tree with infused chakra. At the top, he offers her a hand to pull her onto what’s left of the platform, and he tugs his bag at the top next to Haku’s. “It’s not too late,” Zabuza motions to the wood under his feet. “You could still choose your comfortable bed at home.” His fingers, still gingerly holding her wrist, begin to slip.

Sakura catches his hand in hers, and she intertwines her fingers with his, “I’ll just have to sleep on top of you then.”

Pleased with her response, his fingers close down around her hand and he pulls her in, resting his cheek against the crown of her head. “It’ll be cold, hungry work.”

“I’ll have you to keep me warm,” Sakura grins deviously, “and full.” 

She can feel him tense up at that, his face shifting to press his lips–through his bandages, but Sakura can still feel the quirk of his smile through them—to her forehead. “When I’m Mizukage, you’ll never want for anything.”

Haku clears his throat and, yanked back into a world with shame, the pair separates with flustered apologies. Haku slips his mask on, the tracker ninja mask he’d tricked Sakura and her team with upon their first meeting, and chuckles, “It seems you two are getting along well. Shall I make myself scarce in order to stake out the bridgebuilder’s family?”

Zabuza clears his own throat in response, “We’ll be heading to stake out the bridge ourselves. We’ll meet there when you’ve killed the mercenaries attacking the house.”

“Bye, Haku,” Sakura chuckles, hiding her flushed face behind her hand, in case Haku could see her. 

Haku dashes off into the woods. 

It becomes evident to Sakura that, for him to dash off without question, they probably knew where Tazuna’s family was. On Gato’s side, that may have meant that their secondary plan was to break in and kill Tazuna—perhaps the whole family—while he’s unprepared. Sakura’s relieved that it didn’t go that way. 

“Let’s go,” Zabuza leaps down to the ground.

Sakura’s half-tempted to follow, but she’s pretty sure that she’d break her legs if he tried something so bold. So she walks down the tree, joining him at the bottom, and they take off.

They’re at the bridge well before Tazuna and the rest of Team Seven, waiting under the bridge, sitting on the completed abutment as they listen to the workers above. The steady clang of metal and sawing of wood from above indicated to Sakura that everything’s okay, but Zabuza is perched on the stone, focusing intently on the distance as he listens for more.

Sakura swings her legs silently over the water. As far as she can hear, everything is fine. The workers are cracking jokes as they build, even. She tries to listen for whatever Zabuza’s listening for, but she grows bored and lethargic waiting. The sunrise, at least, was pretty to look at while they waited, and the energetic noises of the workers arriving interested Sakura for a while, but as the morning goes on she can’t help but feel restless. 

Suddenly, Zabuza motions for her to stand up, the other hand darting to grip the hilt of his sword. 

Sakura perks up, her eyes wide, and she tries to pinpoint what put him on edge. As far as she can hear, the workers are just as jovial as ever. 

Zabuza relaxes, his arm lowering from the hilt of his sword. He turns back to Sakura, his voice low, “It’s your team. I can hear the blond one bellyaching about how he should still be out there looking for you. Give them a few minutes to settle.”

Sakura feels guilty at that—Naruto’s such a good teammate.

“The dark haired one says you probably drowned and washed down the river, and they can look for you more when the mission is complete.”

Sakura glowers at that. Sasuke’s right, that basically is what happened to her—minus a few details regarding her rescue and a whirlwind romance—but he could stand to be a little more sympathetic about it. 

Zabuza waits a few minutes, letting them take their positions guarding Tazuna as he works before he presses a hand on her shoulder. “Alright. If they don’t take it well, I’ll just wait until the mercenaries come, and then I’ll snag you out of there.”

Sakura smiles at that. Zabuza wouldn’t let Kakashi just drag her home if her teammates didn’t understand. That’s comforting, at least. “Okay, I’m ready.” She’s not, really. What can she possibly say to convince the three men on her team that Zabuza and Haku are suddenly allies? But then again, even if she can’t, when the enemy mercenaries show up and Zabuza starts lobbing off heads—Kakashi, Naruto, and Sasuke couldn’t still doubt them then, could they?

Zabuza starts to dip down but pauses, his brows furrowing, and his hand darts up to tug at his wrappings, “I’m beginning to realize how inconvenient these are. I want to kiss you.” 

Sakura beams at that, tugging his shirt to indicate for him to bend down, and once he does, she presses a kiss to his nose. “You can kiss me properly when we win,” Sakura announces, her hand reaching up to caress his jaw. 

He leans into her touch, his warm, dark eyes focused intently on her face. His gaze flickers upward, lingering on the beams of the bridge above them, and then back to her. 

He doesn’t want her to go up there, or so Sakura assumes. And sure, he has a lot to be worried about—one of her teammates could yank her away before Zabuza could reach her, Sakura could change her mind once she’s no longer in a small bubble away from reality, and that doesn’t even begin to broach the things that could go wrong once Gato’s mercenaries arrive. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Sakura takes a guess, her thumb stroking along the cloth wrapped around his jaw. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re fragile,” Zabuza protests quietly, and Sakura knows she’s hit the nail on the head—he’s worried about separating, about something out of his control happening despite his planning, like it had with his sick brother. 

Fragile? In the short time she’s known him, she’s survived drowning and poisoning herself. If she was that easy to kill, she’d be dead. “You’re going to have to trust me to be careful,” Sakura gently admonishes. He doesn’t know that she resets if she dies, but Sakura knows that she’ll be okay. If anything, it’s the others that she has to look out for. “It’s time, right?”

He’s quiet a few moments more, enjoying her lingering touch, before he admits, “Yeah, it’s time.” 

Sakura pulls away, fingers tracing along his jaw as she does, and she gives him a warm smile. Sakura turns, rushing her chakra to her feet and she takes a few shaky steps onto the water to prepare for the ascent up the side of the bridge. She knows that Zabuza, paying attention to all the noise above them—skilled at relying on sound from his expertise at fighting in the mist—will be waiting the read the mood of her conversation with her teammates, so she has to do her best to convince them that Zabuza’s decided to turn on Gato. 

Sakura climbs to the top of the bridge, hoisting herself over the side, much to the surprise of an unsuspecting worker. He yelps, and Sakura offers a sheepish apology that’s quickly interrupted.

“Sakura?” Naruto bellows from further down the bridge, his sandals clacking loudly on the stones as he races toward her, his face breaking out into a bright grin. “Sakura! You’re alive!” 

Just as Sakura rises to her feet, she’s knocked off them once more, Naruto knocking her to the ground as he roughly throws his arms around her. She lands sharply on her ass, letting out a strangled grunt at the pain.

Naruto yanks her up to her feet, “I knew you were alive. I wanted to go out and keep looking for you!” He turns back, yelling for Sasuke and Kakashi as though they wouldn’t have heard the spectacle Naruto put on, “Sasuke! Kakashi-sensei! Sakura’s back!”

“Thanks, Naruto,” Sakura pats him on the back, knowing that her story—and ultimately, her betrayal—is bound to hurt him shortly. “I missed you too, loudmouth,” Sakura says fondly. Sure, Naruto is a bit too rowdy for her taste, but he has such a warm personality. 

Kakashi and Sasuke both approach. “Wow,” Sasuke says, “the idiot was right, you really are alive.” 

Sakura’s brow twitches in annoyance, but she restrains herself. As far as game-Sasuke goes, he probably didn’t mean that to be an insult.”

“Where have you been?” Kakashi presses his hands to her cheeks, tilting her head up for a better inspection, “Are you injured? You don’t look like you’ve been lost in the woods.”

“I haven’t been,” Sakura swats his hands away, “Haku—Well, you haven’t met Haku, he’s basically Zabuza’s right hand man—well, anyway, Haku rescued me from the river and then brought me to where Zabuza was hiding out and recovering from our last fight. Zabuza was initially planning to try and barter me for the bridgebuilder,” Sakura rocks on her heels, hoping she sounds convincing, “but I convinced him to turn on Gato instead.”

Kakashi and Sasuke are stunned into silence, but Naruto blurts, “Convinced—? That bloodthirsty guy? Well, how the hell did you do that?”

She can feel the weight of their doubtful stares, and flushes. What’s she supposed to say, she seduced him? “He was talking about his coup, and I convinced him that killing the bridgebuilder wasn’t the right thing to do. We’re here because Gato is moving forward with a more sinister plot: to kill Tazuna’s family and attack the bridge.”

Naruto and Sasuke pointedly look back over at Tazuna, who occasionally peeked over at the spectacle as he worked but was out of earshot for the conversation. Naruto looks back over to Sakura first, panicking, “But that means they’re in danger right now.”

Sakura shakes her head, “Haku is guarding their house. Since they’re civilians, there are only a few of them, and Haku can take care of them by themselves.”

“You said ‘we,’” Kakashi takes a languid, skeptical glance around. “So, Zabuza’s here with you, right now?”

Sakura pauses. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that? Is Kakashi angry? “That’s right,” Sakura says, “but he’s here to help. They saved my life, and they want to take down Gato. Are you going to hurt him?” She glances at Naruto and Sasuke, but mostly focuses her attention on Kakashi, knowing that his decision would sway the other two.

“Sasuke, Naruto,” Kakashi says cooly, his hand twitching toward his weapon pouch, “evacuate Tazuna and the other workers. If Zabuza is truly on our side, then we can’t risk their lives while the mercenaries come—and if he isn’t, then there’s about to be a battle.” 

Sasuke and Naruto both nod before departing to evacuate the workers. Sakura flounders a bit at that. She’d hoped that Kakashi would trust her at her word, like he had with Gaara, but it made sense for an experienced shinobi like him to be skeptical. 

“Zabuza,” Kakashi calls out loud as the last of the workers are escorted back toward the town, “if you’re here as an ally, then you’ll appear before me, weapons sheathed, on three.” He begins to count slowly, “One. Two—”

“Enough,” Zabuza drawls, leaping up and over the edge of the bridge with ease. True to his intent, he holds his hands in the air to show he’s unarmed. “She’s telling the truth. I’m here to take down Gato. Call it a doublecross.” 

“But why?” Kakashi glowers, and Sakura muses over the fact that they both wear a form of mask. 

“For Sakura,” Zabuza juts his jaw in the air, matching Kakashi’s sour expression. “Because I care for her.”

Kakashi sends an accusatory glare Sakura’s way, and Sakura withers under the look. “Interesting. I didn’t think you were capable of such sweet sentimentality, Zabuza.” 

“Kakashi-sensei, stop that,” Sakura says, taking a step backward towards Zabuza. She hadn’t wanted to boldly say they were romantically involved, hoping to appeal to the rationale of needing help for the mission, but if Zabuza was going to come out and say it then there’s no point in denying it.

“I didn’t think I was capable of it either,” Zabuza says, taking a few steps forward, resting a hand on the crown of her head, “but I was wrong, and she wanted to help save this bridge, so I’m here.”

Sasuke comes dashing back first and, at his teacher’s lead, he rests a hand on his weapon pouch. 

Naruto, meanwhile, comes racing back at full speed, “Hey, you, asshole!” He skids to a stop, a kunai in hand, “Are we really supposed to believe you turned over a new leaf?”

“It’s not a new leaf,” Zabuza protests, “my goal is the same. I still need the funds to defeat the Mizukage, but today, the bridgebuilder will not die. Not if I have anything to say about it. I love her. I’ll do anything for her.”

That’s right, Sakura inwardly cheers. She’s helped him become a more empathetic person, and she’s put him back in touch with his heart. He—Wait. Sakura whirls on her feet, wide eyed, and she sees the bright red of his heart meter glowing from his chest. Did that—Does that count?

“Don’t look so surprised,” Zabuza pulls her in with one hand, the other still free, should any of her teammates make a move. He chuckles, his eyes drifting to hers. “I love you. I’ll say it again; I love you.” His gaze drifts back up to Kakashi, “So I’ve adjusted my plans. I kill Gato and company for you, and she’s coming with me.” 

Well, that certainly counts. Sakura balks in surprise, too shocked to say anything—she thought she had more time, the fight, at least. She thought she would get to see him victorious. 

There’s the sharp whirr of blades slicing through the air, the clang of steel against steel as Zabuza skillfully slips a kunai from his pouch and deflects the blow. It’s Naruto, face twisted with rage, “You’re not taking Sakura.”

“Wait, Naruto,” Sakura holds her hands up, trying to dissuade him from any further blows, “I want to go with him. I want to help him save everyone in the Mist village, and stop the tyranny of their Mizukage.” There’s a series of crackling chirps as blue light fills Sakura’s vision. She squints, turning to see, through the shooting blue beams of light, Kakashi holding what can only be described as a ball of flickering lightning in his hand.

“Get out of the way, Sakura,” Kakashi says, his eyes narrowed, his feet prepped to charge forward.

“No!” Sakura cries out, putting herself between the two. Her hands flicker toward her weapon pouch, but how is she supposed to stop that with a kunai?

“It’s alright,” Zabuza reaches for the hilt of his sword, his other hand moving around her waist to push her away. “You want to fight about it, Kakashi? We’ll fight. Sakura,” he nudges her to the side, but Sakura stubbornly intercedes, “move.” Zabuza nudges her once more, “If I don’t make it, then thank you. For this. For everything.”

Sakura flusters at that, turning back to Kakashi to plead her case, frustrated to the point of tears, “Kakashi-sensei, listen to me—!” She doesn’t know how much time she has left here. 

“Perhaps this is enough of a burden of proof?” A cool voice rings out. They all turn to see Haku, mask hanging from his neck, and he drops two lifeless bodies from his hands. They fall to the bridge with heavy thuds. “These are the assailants on the bridgebuilder’s family. And soon, more mercenaries will be here to destroy the bridge and kill any stragglers. I’m sure after that, since the workers are gone, they’ll storm the town.”

Naruto is the first to speak up, “Wait… I know you, from the forest…”

“That’s right,” Haku tilts his head to the side, giving him a closed-lip smile, “and I let you live, didn’t I? Now that our contract with Gato is broken, you aren’t my enemy. That is, unless you attack.”

The lightning dies in Kakashi’s palm, the loud chirps quieting until they’re left in silence. “Tazuna’s daughter and grandson are safe?”

“Yes,” Haku nudges one of the bodies, “the assailants were killed before they ever made it to the home. I waited a short while to make sure these were the only threat, please excuse me for being late.”

Relieved, Sakura throws her arms around Zabuza, holding him from the side. She looks at her team with a watery glare, realizing what could’ve happened here, and she asks them pointedly, “Do you believe me now?” 

Naruto sheepishly lowers his blade, “You… You’re abandoning the village to go with them, Sakura?”

“That’s so stupid,” Sasuke scowls at her. “You can’t leave.” 

Sakura knows that to them, it’s a decision that wouldn’t make sense—her character’s backstory is that she’s in love with Sasuke, after all. “I want to make the world a better place,” Sakura starts, remembering Zabuza’s story, remembering all of those people suffering even still in the Mist village. “I want to stay by Zabuza’s side, and help him fulfill his dream.”

Zabuza’s hands finally relax, lowering his own blade, the other hand squeezing her to him.

Kakashi shifts his gaze between them, and then Haku, and then the bodies of the two mercenaries. “We’ll discuss this after we defend the bridge.” 

Sakura can only just smile in relief, tightening her hold on Zabuza, when it’s all taken from her.

She wakes in her bed, her arms slung to the side, and she blinks groggily as she realizes that Zabuza Momochi is gone. She sits up, searching her room for Sai, and she finds him sitting on the floor. “Why did the story end there?” Sakura asks, shaking with her frustration, “I still don’t know if we saved the bridge.”

Sai quirks a brow at her, “What do you mean? We both know that the story ends with the ‘I love you.’ Not with whether or not you saved a bridge.”

Sakura fumes, yanking the covers off and swinging her legs out of bed, “What do you mean, what do I mean? We were supposed to fight the mercenaries.”

“Come on, Sakura, we both know that your team will win,” Sai chuckles dryly, rising to his feet. “You’re in the wrong genre. This is a romance game.”

Sakura blanches, flooded with disbelief, “Excuse me? I’m consistently getting beat the fuck up, how dare you act like I’m silly for assuming we were going to fight off Gato’s thugs. How do I know that we won? How do I know what happens next?”

“You know that you won,” Sai reaches over, ruffling her hair, and Sakura swats his hands away from her in frustration, “because there’s another Act.” 

Sakura sniffles, the weight of Zabuza’s loss finally hitting her, and she presses a hand to her temple to try and soothe a blossoming headache, “I hate this damn game.” She knows that she’ll see him again soon, but it doesn’t stifle the ache in her heart. She’s sick of losing people, of remembering them and them not remembering her, and of knowing that even if they could—it only hurts their feelings, because she has to seduce others in more routes in order to escape the game. It would be nice to get some sleep, and that be that. 

“Now you can read the redacted information,” Sai points out.

“Yeah, great,” Sakura sighs gruffly. “I’ll do that as soon as I wake up.”

Chapter Text

Route Four: Shikamaru Nara - Purple Heart

In the morning, Sakura skims her character’s formerly redacted history with a heavy heart. Zabuza doesn’t become the Mizukage. Both he and Haku die on that bridge, Zabuza tearfully admitting he did care about Haku only after Haku is already dead—sacrificing himself for Zabuza’s sake, on the receiving end of the crackling blue lightning move that the guide calls the Chidori.

Sakura pauses her reading, emotional at their respective fates. Gato betrays Zabuza for money—the irony of it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Zabuza, with all of his hopes and dreams, is gone. Haku, whose only dream was to see the man who took him in succeed, is gone. It’s not fair. That thought makes her curl up in her covers, her eyes skimming the words over and over as though one more readthrough will change the truth.

It ultimately prompts Naruto toward the realization of how dark the path of the shinobi is, and what he can do about it. Sasuke is nearly killed during the fight by Haku and his ice natured Kekkei Genkai, and Sakura spends most of the fight… guarding Tazuna and crying over Sasuke’s fortunately not dead body. Awesome. But in Zabuza’s route, at least, there’s a chance. One chance, maybe two if she can assume Haku’s route runs along the same route, to give them a happily ever after. And maybe that’s all she can do: one small rebellion against an inevitable truth. 

There’s more information that Sakura quietly notes in the back of the mind, assuming it’ll be important reference material for Haku’s route, like the nature of his Kekkei Genkai and how he uses it in combat. It’s a little hard to focus on plotting her future victories, when all of them feel like sinking stones in her gut. She could play Haku’s route next, to see Zabuza again without erasing the progress from his route, but Sakura considers Sai’s warning and hesitates. What exactly is she risking when she makes them fall in love with her, and how can she protect them, plus herself, from whatever damage the game is causing when it glitches? 

“Hey,” Ino rouses her from her thoughts, and Sakura glances over to see her taking notes at her desk, “wanna get breakfast?” 

Sakura blinks back to reality, “Hmm? Oh, yeah, let me—let me just brush my teeth and get dressed.”

“Sure,” Ino says, “oh, and don’t think you’re going to escape date preparations for tomorrow, you know?”

Sakura sets out some clothes and grabs her toothbrush, shooting Ino a skeptical look, “What preparations?”

Ino scoffs, mimicking Sakura, “What preparations? Well, I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?” 

Sakura opens her mouth to respond, not sure what to say to that, “I don’t like the sound of that at all. I hope you mean you want to paint my nails, not like, sacrifice a virgin to a fertility goddess.” Sakura shakes her head, grabbing her toothpaste and heading off.

Ino playfully calls for her as she goes, “Let me know if you find a virgin to sacrifice!” 

Through breakfast, Sakura can’t help but wonder what exactly Ino has planned. Sakura isn’t usually the type to pamper herself—she’s more rough around the edges. Hinata joins them at the table, an equally devious twinkle in her eyes, “Did you tell Sakura about today—?”

“Shh,” Ino shoots the dark haired girl a conspiratorial smile, “It’s a surprise.”

“Hinata!” Sakura groans, leaning back in her chair, “Not you too! What’s with all the mystery? We both know you’re just going to paint my nails and wax my eyebrows or whatever.”

“Don’t be like that,” Hinata chuckles. “Come on, girls day.”

“Can you not have one iota of mystery or intrigue in your life?” Ino crosses her arms, giving a playful pout.

Sakura crosses her arms in return, glancing between them both, “Well… I’ll never turn down a girls day, but I have enough mystery and intrigue in my life to get me through.” It’s true, Sakura had never been a fan of surprises—even a relatively harmless surprise. She was always eager to give away the surprise of presents she’d bought everyone else for Christmas, and she nearly ruined Shisui Uchiha’s surprise birthday party because she can’t keep a secret for long—in her defense, she was eleven at the time. That’s part of the reason she quickly confided in Ino about the breakup and in Itachi about Izumi. As far as the game goes, she knows she can’t talk much about it without risking some serious questions about her well-being. Thankfully, she has someone who she can confide in, and thank goodness for Shino—

“So,” a voice mumbles from behind, “I guess I shouldn’t have come over here, hm? It sounds like I’ll be interrupting.”

Shino? 

“Shino,” Ino beams at him, “nonsense, you’re one of Sakura’s friends—Join us. We’re just pampering ourselves in celebration of a big step on her part.”

Shino arches a brow, clearly confused, but he takes a seat. “A big step? Congratulations, what happened?” He takes a bite of his cereal, waiting for someone to answer.

Sakura starts, “Ino’s just making a big deal of my first big date since Sasuke—”

Ino makes a sharp gagging noise at the name, and Hinata stifles a giggle.

Shino chokes for a moment on his cereal, pressing a hand to his chest as he stifles his coughs into the crook of his elbow. 

Sakura nudges his cup of water toward him, “You alright?”

“Oh,” Shino takes a few slow gulps and says, once he’s settled. “Yeah, uh, thanks. Went down the wrong pipe.” He clears his throat, tilting his head away in order to avert his eyes from her. “So, you’re dating.”

“Kind of,” Sakura says, turning to pick at her orange. “We’ll see how it goes. I had a study date, or hangout I guess since all we did was literally study, with Hinata’s cousin—Do you know Neji? Anyway, we’re supposed to get brunch and go ice skating. But I don’t know, I feel kind of weird about it.”

Shino shifts, back to eating his cereal as normal, “It’s bound to feel weird after a breakup. Official first dates feel different from just hanging out, too. I’m sure you’ll have fun if you relax.”

“I’m sure you’ll break your ass, because you’ve never skated a day in your life,” Ino quips playfully, before taking a languid sip of her water. 

“Oof,” Hinata winces, “well, at least you can look forward to brunch.”

“Oh come on, I’m not going to be that bad, right? People learn to ice skate all the time.” Sakura waves a dismissive hand. “How bad could it really be?”

Hinata and Ino exchange a look, and Shino tilts his head away as a means to avert his eyes once more. 

Sure enough, Ino had meant a home spa day—the three girls, plus Shino, are to spend a lovely day curled up on Sakura’s bed watching movies, doing manicures and pedicures, and wearing face masks. 

They’ve ordered enough pizza, breadsticks, and wine coolers to get them through the day. Hinata, following wine cooler number three, is curled up on Ino’s bed taking a nap. Ino has a clay mask on, and is sifting through her shoebox of nail polish colors.

Sakura and Shino are cross legged on her bed, and he’s watching her paint her nails mint green. She notices him watching, so she holds her hand out for him to inspect it, “I mean, I’m a little tipsy, but not half-bad, huh?” 

He peers at her hand through his glasses, and he reaches out to catch her hand, “You did pretty well, considering.” His thumbnail drags around the corner of hers, cleaning the side of her nail where she’d gotten some nail polish on her skin.

“Want me to do your toes?” Sakura offers. “Pick a color.”

“No way,” Shino starts, and before Sakura can brush it aside, he goes on, “my feet are ticklish. You can do my hands. The pink you’re using is fine. It’s practically a nude.” 

Sakura perks up, pleased, “Ticklish, huh? I’ll have to tuck that information away for later.” She finishes applying the top coat to her nails. 

“Please don’t.”

Sakura cracks a smile at that, “Give me a minute for them to dry.”

After her nails dry, she takes Shino’s hands, holding them on her lap as she applies the base coat. Out of habit, she picks up his hands and blows on his fingers. She sets them back down, glancing up to Shino to find him—blushing? Is he blushing? 

Shino averts his eyes, his cheeks flushed, his shoulders tense though he forces his hands to remain relaxed.

He’s definitely blushing. Sakura feels herself flushing, embarrassed. Maybe his hands are sensitive. Sakura decides not to address it, at risk of further embarrassing him. She continues to paint his nails, focusing on getting the polish on without making a mess of his fingers. 

They spend the evening relaxing, and long into the night, when the four of them have made a nest on the floor out of their blankets and pillows, and Hinata and Ino have long dozed off as Frozen plays on Ino’s propped laptop, Sakura scrolls the Root app. She figures it’s time to begin. 

“You alright?” Shino asks her, having noticed her expression. 

Sakura glances over to her two sleeping friends, before she scoots to share her phone screen with Shino, their shoulders touching. “I’m setting up for the next route. Hitting random has worked out for me so far.”

“So there’s really no strategy to it?” Shino muses, adjusting his glasses as he looks at the faces on the screen. 

“I guess not,” Sakura muses. “I mean, either way, to beat the game I need to play them all. I’ve only been avoiding specific routes, not pursuing anybody in particular.”

“Well, I guess if you have to play them all, random is fine. So, this means another one ended? And you’re doing well?”

“Maybe I’m getting used to heartbreak,” Sakura sighs, shifting up to reach for her earbuds, and noticing them out of her reach on the nightstand. “Can you hand me the earbuds behind you? I need to listen to the preview. I skipped it when I started the last one, and that was a mistake.”

“Don’t say that,” Shino protests, shifting to grab her earbuds and offering them out to her. 

“It was a mistake,” Sakura shakes her head at the memory. “You should’ve seen the last one, he was a murder-assassin guy. Imagine my surprise when he showed up. I mean, luckily, I could watch it when I woke up—but still.”

“That sounds traumatizing, but,” Shino reaches up, tucking a wisp of her hair out of her face, “I meant you shouldn’t say you’re getting used to heartbreak. This is a game, and it feels real, but there’s still real life for you. You have a date tomorrow. Neji’s a good guy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shino mumbles, settling back down into the nest. “I mean, I’ve always thought he’s kind of pretentious, but I guess if I was into him I would think he’s cool.”

“His cousin’s sleeping right there,” Sakura chastises him, plugging the jack into her phone, smiling despite herself. “Don’t call him pretentious.”

“Hinata would agree with me,” Shino scoffs. “But like I said, a good guy. He’s not going to break your heart, like the other one.”

The other one. There was a time when she thought Sasuke was a good guy, that he’d never break her heart. That they’d be together forever. She twists her mouth to the side, thinking of her time in the game. People do all sorts of bad things. Are they always bad people? She thinks of Gaara, who’d murdered plenty of people as a result of his terrible relationship with his village. She thinks of Deidara, a terrorist even in a world of contract killing. She thinks of Zabuza, willing to kill a graduating class for a shot at saving his brother. Compared to all of that, cheating on her was hardly as dramatic. Maybe she could even forgive him. Someday. Her gut twists. Not today, at least. “Well, it’s a date—I don’t exactly have to worry about breaking my heart yet, right? I’ll just focus on fun. Do you want to watch the preview?” Sakura changes the subject, offering him an earbud.

Shino pauses, catching onto the obvious change in subject, but he figures that she doesn’t want to talk about it and he doesn’t want to pry. “Sure,” he says, placing the bud in his ear.

Sakura settles in, hitting random and waiting for the preview to load so she can hit play. When she does, the familiar black screen and white script appears on screen: Shikamaru Nara.

Sakura blinks, registering. It’s the first time she’s gotten someone she already knew in real life—even if she didn’t know him particularly well, she knew he was reliable, intelligent, and a good friend to Ino (and by extension, her). It felt kind of weird, and honestly, she’s uncomfortable with it.

Before she can dwell on it too much, the preview begins. 

She’s surprised to see a young version of herself, running full speed through the playground, and another small child—easily identifiable by his same brown, high ponytail as the adult Shikamaru she knows—watching her from the benches. He leans over, whispering conspiratorially to another rosy cheeked boy rifling through a bag of potato chips, “Look, there she is. Wish me luck, I’m going to ask her to be my girlfriend.” Giving his friend a sly smirk, he explains, “That’s what my dad said to do.” 

“Then what?” The other boy—Sakura realizes that’s Choji, the mutual friend of Ino and Shikamaru in real life, as a child—asks him.

“Dude, I don’t know,” Shikamaru huffs, his cheeks bright, “then I’ll ask her to come over or something. Dad didn’t say what happens after, just when you like a girl you gotta ask her out. Whatever, I’m doing it.” He hops off the bench, headed in Sakura’s direction, his steps faltering as Sakura joins a gathering of other young girls. 

“Kyaaa!” Sakura squeals right along with the other girls, “Sasuke! You’re so cool!”

Shikamaru falters, hanging back, the confidence faltering from his face until he retreats, slinking back to his friend on the bench. “It was too troublesome,” he announces with a scowl, his face flushed, before his friend can ask what happened. The scene shifts into an older Shikamaru sitting at the table with a man who must be his father. 

“Hey, Dad,” Shikamaru whispers conspiratorially across the breakfast table to a man that looked exactly like an older version of his son, “what on earth made you marry a crabby woman like mom?” 

“Hmm,” his father mumbles, holding a steaming cup of tea, “that’s a good question. Even a crab like your mom can be gentle sometimes. She has her moments.” He leans in, raising an inquisitive brow at his son, “Say, do you still like that girl? The one with the pink hair? She reminds me of your mother.” He chuckles.

“Dad!” Shikamaru scoffs, shifting his gaze away, “Come on, you already know all the girls are into Sasuke Uchiha.”

That only causes his father to chuckle harder, “When did I raise a son that rolled over so easily, hmm?” The scene shifts once more.

Shikamaru—decked out in a forest green Chunin vest—is standing across the room from a blonde woman, seated in the Hokage’s office. It’s familiar to her from her time in Gaara’s route. “So all I have to do is bring Sasuke back?” He pauses, in thought.

“Yes,” the blonde woman responds, her brown eyes narrowing, “that’s your mission. But it must be accomplished without delay, and you may find it a more dangerous task than you think.” Shikamaru looks surprised at that news, so the woman goes on, “There’s a strong possibility that Sasuke is being guarded by Orochimaru’s men.”

Shikamaru thinks on that for a moment before responding, “Well if we’re gonna be facing opposition, I’m gonna need to request a team comprised exclusively of Jonin and Chunin.”

“I can’t honor that request,” the blonde says solemnly.

“What?” Shikamaru asks incredulously, “And why not?”

“You already know the answer,” the blonde swirls in her chair, looking out at the window over the village. “As I’m sure you’re aware, most of the Jonin have been sent out on missions. Only a handful stayed behind to defend in case of attack. Go round up any skilled Genin you feel are up to the job. You have thirty minutes to leave this village.”

Shikamaru turns, walking toward the door, and just as he reaches it, he pauses, “This whole thing’s a drag, but I do know the guy, so I can’t just let it go.” He turns to look back, a withered smile on his face, “Well, that’s just the way it is I guess.” The scene fades to black.

“That pain in the ass woman,” his voice grumbles. 

Sakura recoils from the screen, scowling. Hey. She’s that pain in the ass woman. Well, technically.

“That—” Shikamaru scoffs, “that fucking asshole. How could he do that to her?”

“I know, man,” another male voice off-screen surprises her, “you’ve liked her since we were what, six, right?” 

The screen goes black, a soft chuckle rumbling in the dark, “If you’re going to wager kisses if you lose, you can’t expect me to go easy on you. I’m just a man.” 

The video ends, and Sakura and Shino share a wary glance. “That really didn’t tell me anything plot-wise, except maybe this one will be easy. He already likes me, right?”

“I don’t think you should underestimate the route. It might be harder than you think,” Shino offers some advice. “Sounds like there’s some mission you guys are being sent out on, underqualified for. Do you think you’re ready?”

Sakura shrugs, settling into the nest, her shoulder pressed to his, “If I waited until I was ready, I’d never be done with this damn game. Seriously, you should see some of the stuff these people can do. Lightning palms, taking over your mind, crushing people in a bunch of sand you control with your mind or something,” She trails off and looks up at the ceiling, wondering when exactly that would be. She could count up the routes left from the selection screen, but… but there are so many. The thought of counting them is daunting, it makes her feel like she’ll never be done. She forces her eyes closed. Whatever. It’s not going away. She’ll either beat the game or be stuck appearing in that world every damn night.

Sakura can feel Shino shift next to her, his shoulder rustling beside hers and before she knows it, she’s asleep.

...

Sakura comes to, walking down a street in Konoha at night. Her hair is short again, so she can confirm what she already suspected from the preview—this route takes place after the Chunin Exams. If her hair is short, and Orochimaru is being mentioned, it’s a fair bet. She glances around, not sure what’s going on, and the full moon casts an eerie glow over the empty streets. 

Well, she’s already going somewhere, isn’t she? Otherwise, she wouldn’t be out here. Sakura keeps walking forward along the cobblestone path, admiring the trees lining the Konoha streets—their silhouettes under the full moon are quite lovely. Maybe Sai’s right, maybe Sakura would enjoy this world more if she spent more time in the neutral lobby, and not chasing after traumatized young men. 

Sakura notices Sasuke walking in her direction, with what looks like a hiking backpack strapped to him, and she comes to a stop.

In response, Sasuke also slows to a stop. “It’s the middle of the night,” Sasuke starts, attitude clear. He doesn’t want to be bothered with her, Sakura can tell that much. “What are you hanging around here for?”

Sakura starts to put some pieces together. Sai had all but warned her that Sasuke left with Orochimaru, the snake themed villain, in pursuit of the power necessary to kill Itachi, and the preview confirmed it. She has no idea why she’s here, except that the game placed her here. Is she meant to be suspicious of him? Is she meant to ignore the obvious runaway bag he’s packed? It’s then that she realizes where she is, from leaving the village at the beginning of her third route. Cautiously, she notes, “This is the only road out of the village.”

Sasuke starts to walk right by her, ignoring her observation completely, his only response, “You should go to bed.”

Sakura, frustrated with his indifference, asks, “Why, Sasuke?” Sakura has clearly caught him. She thinks of real-Sasuke, of his aloof and dodgy personality, and her own character’s backstory, in love with someone who would leave the village in the middle of the night on his path of darkness and revenge. Well, at least with her in control, he isn’t her route. Why should she have to give one hot damn about Sasuke fucking Uchiha? 

“Why should I have to tell you anything?” Sasuke scoffs, slowing to a stop but refusing to turn back toward her, “Just keep your nose out of my business. It’s none of your concern.”

Well, if he wants to be that way, then fine. Sakura seethes, the frustration making tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know why you hate ma so much,” Sakura accuses quietly. She’s angry on behalf of her backstory. Seriously, what did she do so wrong? What did Naruto do? Is it so unrealistic that he could’ve just stayed, that they could’ve gotten stronger together and faced his brother together? Why does he have to be this way? Why couldn’t he ever just fucking talk to her, why did he have to cheat—? God, she’s projecting. She thinks of their brief time training, of his near playful dynamic with Naruto, and she thinks a little on their time together in the real world—especially in the beginning, before their lives got busy, before everything seemed to get in the way. Sakura brings herself back to the issue at hand, “I know about your clan Sasuke, I do, but seeking revenge… that won’t bring anyone happiness. Nobody at all.”

“I knew it,” Sasuke mumbles haughtily.

Sakura tilts her head, not sure what he means. 

“I’m not the same as you. I’m traveling a path the rest of you can’t follow. I know that the four of us have worked together, and for a while, I thought that I could take that road instead. But in the end, I’ve decided on revenge. That’s always been my reason for living. I’ll never be like you and Naruto.”

Sakura thinks about the real Sasuke, about his strained relationship with the real Itachi, and she can’t help but pity him despite her annoyance. “Don’t do this, Sasuke,” she says softly to him, “you don’t have to be all alone. You can still change your mind.”

“This is a new beginning. Each of us has a new path lined before us.”

Well, what’s she supposed to say to that? Is she supposed to beg him to stay? She glances at the surrounding buildings, surprised none of their lights have flickered on as some wary citizen wonders who’s making so much noise. “I think you’re doing the wrong thing,” Sakura says carefully. She feels bad for him, she truly does. She’s never had a sibling, but if she had, and they’d done something so heinous—Sakura can’t even imagine that kind of pain, or what it would make her do. “The village is going to come after you, you know. The people here care about you. I don’t know why you’re so insistent on self-sabotage. Isn’t there any way we can help you?” 

Sasuke turns back to her, eyes narrowed. “You haven’t changed, you’re still annoying.”

Sakura inhales sharply. And with that, her pity dies. “Listen here,” she shouts, darting forward, trying to alert anyone who might be within earshot, “I might not be able to take you in a fistfight, you brat, but I’ll scream, and—”

Sasuke appears behind her in a flash, faster than Sakura had even thought he could move, and Sakura freezes. “Sakura,” he mumbles her name softly, softer than she’d heard this Sasuke before, soft enough to remind her of her own Sasuke at the height of their romance, “thank you for everything.”

Sakura barely has the time to register those words—and how they reminded her of Zabuza’s last words to her—before a heavy pressure to her neck has her falling, limp and unconscious, forward and onto the ground.

Sakura realizes she’s dreaming, wondering what harm it could really do to her friendship points if—just in one measly route—she punched Sasuke in the face. She’d need to get stronger, of course. She already knew that her teammates’ strength surpassed her own, but with her own training continuing in every route she plays, and an early enough route on the timeline, it’s possible, isn’t it? She can picture herself, hazily explaining the situation to her distraught team. Sakura thinks she hears someone speaking to her, and still half-asleep, she mumbles, “Naruto?” And then it hits her. She sits up, sharply shouting, “Sasuke, you fucking asshole!” 

She startles two Leaf shinobi carrying paperwork. Upset, frustrated, and heavily groggy, Sakura feels the tears rolling down her face before she realizes that she’s crying. She turns to the two shinobi—they look familiar to her, but Sakura’s too tired to place where in the game she’s seen them before—and bellows, “Sasuke Uchiha abandoned the Leaf village.” 

One of the men, with wild dark hair and a cloth bandage wrapped over his nose, burts, “You should probably go to the hospital and get check out.”

The other shinobi, wearing a bandana and with a shock of brown hair long enough to cover the right side of his face, shoots his partner a sharp glare, “She could be injured, Kotetsu. She can’t go off on her own.” She starts to shift his paperwork down to the bench, sighing at the inconvenience, “It can’t be helped, I’ll drop her off and meet you there.”

Sakura phases from groggy to annoyed, rising to her feet, “I’m good, thanks.”

The two men eye her warily. Kotetsu, the only one of the two who’ve been named—there are no text boxes, which must mean her character doesn’t know them—protests, “You probably shouldn’t wander off by yourself. Let Izumo take you.”

Sakura looks at Izumo just as warily—shinobi have such weird getups, seriously, what’s the point of pulling a garter mask to his chin like that? “Alright,” she says amicably, because if she isn’t in the lobby, she has to assume that anyone could have a route and it’d be worth preserving the friendship points, “thank you.”

He’s surprisingly chatty, for someone who’d had to do a chunk of extra work, but Sakura quickly realizes that he’s nervous that she’ll keel over and die on the sidewalk. He formally introduces himself as a Chunin, and gives her his full name: Izumo Kamizuki. His hands hover uncertainly, wavering around her in anticipation of her suddenly slumping over.

Despite her foul mood, his floundering and need to fill the silence makes her quirk a smile, even if it only lasts for their walk. She realizes where she knows them from, blurting without thinking, “Oh wait, I remember where I met you.” He and Kotetsu were the Chunin who held the genjutsu at the very beginning of the Chunin Exams, in Gaara’s route, where they’d pretended to be Genin blocking the way. She realizes she’d said something out loud, and chuckles, bringing a hand to sheepishly rub the back of her neck, “the Chunin Exams, right? You two did the genjutsu?”

“Ah,” Izumo nods, scrunching his brow, “yeah, that was us. Did you compete? Sorry, but I don’t remember you—” The realization comes to him, horror washing over his face, “Right, you were on the team with Sasuke Uchiha. I’m sorry. Please excuse the foot in my mouth.”

“Mm,” Sakura returns to staring straight ahead, her foul mood returning full force. “That’s me. Didn’t even make it to the finals.” 

“I feel like I pissed you off,” they arrive at the hospital, Izumo darting forward to grab the door for her. 

“It’s not you,” Sakura tries to soften her expression to neutrality. “Bad day. Woke up from being knocked out and left on a bench.” 

Izumo winces, “Right. I’m sorry again.”

“Well, you should probably get back to those reports you abandoned,” Sakura pauses, propping the door open with her foot as she says goodbye. “Thank you again.”

“Of course,” Izumo flounders, bowing his head, “I—err—I wish you well, Sakura. I’m sure Lady Hokage will handle everything.” He briskly turns on his heel, departing, leaving Sakura to muse on that.

For someone who’d claimed he barely remembered her—or only remembered her as an extension of Sasuke—Izumo surprised her by remembering her name. Is she overthinking it? Maybe. God, her head’s pounding. She heads over to the reception to check herself in.

Sakura sits in the examination room waiting for the doctor, she grumbles to herself about a certain Uchiha who left her knocked out on a bench. She has plenty of time to stew about it. “I mean, seriously,” she huffs, swinging her legs over the side of the examination table, as she complains to herself, “a bench? What if something happened to me? Never spared a moment of thought or consideration…”

Sakura thinks of how he’d thanked her when he’d done it. “Thank you for everything.” Sakura scoffs. “Everything what? What’s that even supposed to mean, you grouchy enigma?” 

There’s a soft rap on the door, and a dark haired woman peers at her as she opens the door slightly, “Are you… okay in here, Sakura?”

Sakura watches a text box appear identifying the stranger: Shizune, apprentice (and underpaid assistant) to Lady Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage. Sakura squints at that, trying to call on the knowledge from her character’s database and reading as it appears before her. If Tsunade is the Fifth Hokage, and the old man she’d met in Gaara’s route was the Third, then who was the Fourth—? She reads on, the text box clarifying a bit of village history that her character would have known: the Fourth Hokage died young, during an attack that devastated the village. She waits for more information, but nothing comes.

“Sakura?” Shizune calls out to her once more, opening the door fully and entering. She tilts her head, her brow knitting in concern. She glances back out into the hallway before swirling on her heel, marching over to Sakura and pressing a hand to her forehead, “I wasn’t supposed to be the one examining you, but you look really out of it. Do you have a headache? Any nausea?”

“My head does hurt a bit,” Sakura admits, fidgeting. “No nausea though. I’m just tired and want to go home. I feel a little off.” She notices that Shizune has politely moved forward from discovering Sakura talking to herself. 

Shizune trails down a line of familiar questioning—Sasuke had once had a concussion in the real world from a brutal game of soccer with some of the neighborhood kids, and had complained to Sakura about his symptoms. After the game-Sasuke had knocked her out, it isn’t a far leap to assume the fatigue and pressure in her head is something similar. “Well,” Shizune hums, looking into Sakura’s pupils, “Let’s run through a basic exam after I perform a chakra scan just in case, alright?”

“What’s a chakra scan?” Sakura shifts, having an idea of the answer, but she’d love to learn more about medical ninjutsu. 

“Well, it’s a type of medical jutsu where the medic projects some of their chakra into you in order to look for internal bleeding, or problems we otherwise might not detect right away. Some applications are pretty simple—I’m checking you for a brain bleed, for example—and some are really intricate, like preparing for a detailed surgery or finding poison in a patient’s bloodstream.” Shizune explains, her hands hovering over Sakura’s temple, “Here, let me know if anything hurts.” Her hands start to glow a soft green.

Sakura had learned little bits about medical shinobi throughout her routes, and it aligned with her goals in the real world. Her interest was natural. She tries to focus on the sensation of Shizune’s chakra scanning her brain for injuries, warmth radiating from the spots closest to the older woman’s hands. “Is there anywhere I could learn more about this?” Sakura asks as Shizune finishes, pulling away. “I think it’s amazing.”

“Well, there are plenty of reference scrolls,” Shizune muses thoughtfully. “If you brushed up on your chakra control, maybe once and a while I could run through some techniques with you. If you really decide you’re interested in learning, you should talk to Lady Tsunade.” She pauses, realizing, “Well, Lady Tsunade doesn’t particularly like taking on apprentices, but she is the most talented, if you wanted to learn from the best.”

Sakura brightens, “I would love to shadow you sometimes, if you don’t mind, and I will definitely talk to Tsunade. To be honest, I’ve always been interested in a medical career… I didn’t really know it was a thing shinobi did.”

Shizune pats her head, “Yes, well, for now, I’m going to go ahead and diagnose you with a mild concussion. That means you take it easy and get some rest, do you hear me? Today must have been really tough on you.”

“Of course,” Sakura bats her lashes, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Thank you, Shizune.”

Sakura approaches the village gate, where she’d heard that Shikamaru and his assembled team will be leaving shortly—she, newly diagnosed with a mild concussion and caught on the way here by Shizune with a stern warning that she absolutely can’t join them, wants to at least see them off. They’re plotting, so Sakura hangs back, waiting and listening as Shikamaru plans out the best position for a team he’s assembled on the fly. He’s the only one in a Chunin vest and, from the sound of their conversation, he’s got sharp analytic skills. With a team comprised of all Genin, excluding him, Shikamaru’s going to need that brain. 

One particular part of his speech intrigues her, as he boldly announces, “For as long as I’ve known him, Sasuke and I haven’t exactly been close buddies. In fact, I don’t really like him at all.” That earns some shocked murmurs from the team, and it surprises her too—from what she understood,Sasuke was universally liked despite his attitude. “All the same, Sasuke is a ninja belonging to the Hidden Leaf village. He’s a comrade, and I’ll put my life on the line to help him. That’s the way of our village.” 

Sakura smiles, remembering her time in the Forest of Death, when his team had helped 

Lee and her out despite the risk to themselves. She’s a little surprised. When the mission to retrieve Sasuke was mentioned in the preview, well, she assumed that she’d be going. Being left behind, once again, is a bitter pill to swallow. 

“Now, I usually seem like a pretty lazy guy, but not today,” he levels a stare with the 

group, “because now I’m responsible for your lives too.” Sakura can’t see his expression, but the group looks serious, the severity of the situation weighing on them—a bunch of Genin with a new Chunin leader racing off to confront the minions of Orochimaru, who led the Sound against the Leaf village and killed the Third Hokage, from what Sakura has received of the main story in her routes and her reading. 

Just as they’re going to move out, Sakura approaches, loudly calling out, “Wait!” 

Naruto, who Sakura assumes has heard the story by now, frowns, “Are you alright?” So, did that mean he knew about her concussion? Perhaps Shikamaru was warned, in case she tried to come along. 

Shikamaru intercedes, “Lady Hokage told me everything. Sorry, Sakura, I can’t take you on this mission. I know you tried, but even you couldn’t convince Sasuke, could you?” 

At the first impression, Sakura thinks his words are a little cold—but then again, the inflection of his voice was soft, like he truly felt bad for her. The gray heart meter on his chest surprises her by already shifting, turning purple. Sakura blinks at that, too caught off guard to respond.

Naruto gasps—So, he hadn’t known, after all?

“Now, the only option is for me to find him and force him to come back to the village. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing else you can do for him,” Shikamaru finishes. 

Sakura hangs her head, a little disappointed that she can’t join them even with the concussion, and she’s just about to thank him for what felt like an earnest apology, and the assurance that he intends to take care of it, when Naruto scoffs in disbelief. 

“But that means—” Naruto starts, flabbergasted, “Did Sasuke turn his back on you, Sakura?”

What’s she supposed to say, fuck that asshole? Let him go? Hurry home so she can start romancing her actual route target, and not worry about the guy who knocked her out and left her on a bench? “I believe in you,” Sakura circles back to the mission, to what she knows has to happen so she can move on with the route, “I believe that you can get Sasuke back.” So whatever, they’ll beat him up and then Shikamaru will return, thinking he’s saved the guy she loves, and she’ll turn around and swoon over him as some hero of the Leaf. Fine, if that’s the way it has to be.

Naruto pauses for a moment before he turns away, offering a slim smile, closing his eyes, “Well gosh, Sakura, you must really care about Sasuke, huh?” 

Sakura thought she saw his eyes water before Naruto closed them, and she hesitates at that, wondering if it’s about finding out that Sasuke left of his own free will, or because she said she believes in him. 

“I get it. I can see that deep down this must be really painful for you. I know you must be suffering.”

Sakura chokes up at that, surprised by the sensitivity in someone who’s usually so boisterous. Naruto’s a really good friend. She hasn’t met the real world Naruto yet, but maybe in the morning—the real morning—she’ll find Hinata and cheer on her crush, to put some sort of positivity out in the universe for him. “Naruto,” Sakura says, gripping her arms as if to quell the goosebumps, “thank you so much.” 

Naruto gives her a thumbs up, beaming brightly, eyes still closed to stifle his own tears, “Don’t you worry one bit. I’m gonna bring Sasuke back. I promise that on my life, Sakura.” Even as his arm’s shaking, he promises that to her.

It’d be unkind to tell someone so determined, who genuinely cared for their teammate, that for all she cares they can let Sasuke go. She tries to swallow the sourness seeping in from the real world, and tries to remember that at least here, they’re supposed to be friends. She’s supposed to love him. And besides that, Orochimaru is a villain—as his friends, they can’t let him wander into his clutches so easily, right? She thinks of how Sasuke knocked her out and abandoned her on a bench, and has to swallow a bitter chuckle. Maybe a text message breakup isn’t so bad. 

With the group’s morale rallied, and some teasing from Kiba, Shikamaru ushers them out of the village—Sasuke is on the move, and time is of the essence, after all.

Sakura, left behind with Lee, watches them go. Maybe Sasuke doesn’t deserve the people who care about him, or the people of this village who are willing to put their lives on the line for him solely because he’s one of their own. She can’t help but think of his lonely, hard life, and how most of the people she meets seem to have led lonely or hard lives. She hopes Naruto can help him. 

“Did you see Naruto give you the thumbs up when he made that promise?” Lee starts to comfort her, “That means he will do it. I can tell, Naruto will succeed.”

Lee. Sakura looks over at him, comforted by the fact that he was up and walking, even with a crutch. The last she had seen of him, Gaara had shattered his leg—and according to her reading, that had really happened. The fact that he’s here, comforting her about her character’s romantic interest leaving, only underlined what a nice guy he is—even if Sai’s right, and their first meeting was totally weird. 

Lee also gives her a thumbs up, his face flushed.

Sakura wonders how everyone in this village can be so nice, except for Sasuke. She wonders if she can shoot some mental daggers toward her character for after she’s gone, a shout into the void that she has so many other options, and then she has to stifle a laugh so Lee doesn’t think she’s lost it. Isn’t that true for her in real life as well? She’s spent so long in love with her own Sasuke, who ultimately betrayed her. 

They watch the retrieval squad go until they’re long gone, disappearing out of their sight in their pursuit of Sasuke. Sakura turns to Lee, wiping her watery eyes and offering what she hopes is a reassuring smile, “Do you need any help getting back, Lee?”

“No, thank you,” Lee beams brightly, tapping his crutch onto the cobblestones. “There’s something I must do, and it’s something I must do on my own, to get better quickly. Then next time, perhaps you can rely on me.” 

Sakura blanches, quietly amused with him. “Well,” she teases, starting to feel her frustration with Sasuke ebbing away, “you’ll have to get better soon. I hope to get stronger and be the person that others can rely on, so you’ll have to beat me there.” Of course, she’s sure that Lee knows he’s stronger than her. “Maybe we can train together, when you’re feeling up to it.”

Lee hums confidently, pleased with her response, “I always love a challenge.” 

Sakura and Lee part, going their own separate ways. Without a route target, or the potential of wooing him, anywhere in sight, Sakura knows she should be resting because of her concussion. But that’s bo-o-o-oring. Besides, the doctor in the hospital had mostly healed her, and although studying is hardly rest, Sakura wants to make use of this time.

Sakura heads for her home, since she knows that if she starts to feel nauseous she can stop studying and rest there. 

As she arrives, she throws open her door and calls out into the empty living room, “Sai!”

He appears next to her, his proximity alarming, “You called?” He gives her a thin smile that, as always, doesn’t strike Sakura as genuine.

Sakura closes the door behind her and makes herself busy pretending to casually study her nail beds, “So, I was knocked out and left on a bench last night.”

“That’s right,” Sai doesn’t catch her tone, wandering into the living room unprepared for her wrath. “Sasuke couldn’t afford to bring you to your home without there being a risk of waking your family, or people in the village starting to wake up. He had to make a good distance before dawn.”

Sakura scowls, her annoyance seeping through, “Mhmm. But what I don’t see is why you didn’t wake me up.” 

“Ah,” Sai starts to catch on, “you’re angry with me.” When Sakura takes an imposing step toward him, he throws his hands up to placate her, “But wait, the story has to go that way, or the guards would’ve been alerted and the Sasuke retrieval mission would never occur! It’s the code, I knew nothing was going to happen to you, of course!” 

Sakura grunts in response, cracking her knuckles. She knows that the routes need to take certain paths to get going, but still, isn’t leaving her out there too much? “Well,” she huffs, bypassing Sai to head toward her room, “if it really couldn’t be helped, then you can at least make it up to me. I hope you’re good at studying.”

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Four: Shikamaru Nara - Blue Heart

In all actuality, Sai is a fairly terrible study partner. He has little threshold for learning to do something, let alone explaining the how. Exasperated with her, he hangs off of the edge of her bed, grumbling as he watches Sakura in her circle of unfurled scrolls. “You just use the chakra control. You summon your chakra and you perform medical ninjutsu, that’s it. What answers do you think you’ll find in these,” he picks up a book she’d left on the edge of her bed, set aside for later, Medical Ninjutsu: Blood Coagulation, Volume III, and makes a soft whine as he reads the title, “dusty academic tomes? Really, three volumes on blood coagulation? Riveting.”

Sakura, sick of his mantra of complaints, finds herself rereading the same sentences over and over again, “Sai, a good doctor has done her due diligence. If you’re so bored, and you aren’t going to be helpful, then go find something you’d like to read.”

Sai gives her an exaggerated sigh, shoving off of her bed to go rifle through the still unopened pile of scrolls and books waiting for Sakura in the corner of the room. “I think you’re abusing the research center, don’t you?” He complains, eyes catching on the first thing he sees that intrigues him. 

“Oh please, this whole game revolves around me. Who cares if I borrow a few too many scrolls from the library?” She pauses, noticing him actually pick up a book, “Oh, I was kidding when I said to find something to read. Don’t you… know everything already?”

Sai squints at her, expression so neutral that Sakura suspects it’s masking his annoyance, “I’m your guide, not the core programming. I exist to help you navigate the game, certainly, but my areas of expertise lie more in history or the continuity of the routes. One could hardly say I know everything.”  

Sakura peers at the cover, “Right, so that’s why you want to learn about ‘Friendships and Relationships: An Introduction?’”

Sai turns away, holding the books so that she can’t see it, “I’m only trying to learn more about your cultivation of relationships so that I can help you beat the routes faster. Obviously.” 

Sakura quirks a smile, amused with him, “Well, you enjoy that, Sai.” 

He only huffs in response, settling on her bed once more and opening the book with his back turned to her. 

Sakura sits with the scrolls, reading about medical ninjutsu—theory, application, and history—until she’s too hungry to continue. “Sai, let’s go eat something.”

“I don’t need to eat,” Sai responds gruffly, immersed in his own reading. “Perhaps this is what you should be reading,” Sai comments. “Relationships are complicated. That might explain why you’re causing all of these glitches.”

“I hope ‘relationships are complicated’ isn’t the only thing you’ve learned,” Sakura remarks gruffly, approaching him and tugging his shirt as a silent warning that it’s time to get up, “because I could’ve told you that.” 

Sai grumbles, holding the open book protectively against his chest, “I think it’s informative, but fine, enjoy your blood jutsu.” 

Sakura chuckles. Well, if a nonhuman character like Sai wants to spend his time studying human relationships, who is she to stop him? Maybe it’d help her get through this damn game after all. After a snack and a stretch, she rereads the hand signs depicted on the page, setting out the scroll on the floor to slowly practice their formation. It’s surprisingly difficult committing jutsu to memory—like a magic spell, and the magic doesn’t always come. 

She tests the healing hands jutsu that she’d successfully used on Deidara, thanks to the mini-game, and herself later in his route. The chakra comes forth, slow, measured, like molasses, and it glows green at her fingertips. There’s nothing for her to heal, so she focuses on holding the energy and maintaining it for as long as possible.

Sakura can practically feel Sai’s eyes on her, the room silent as she holds her concentration. 

It’s working, it’s good practice on chakra control. Still, she itches to actually heal something, to wield that power at her fingertips. She healed her own minor sunburn relatively easily, but when she was in real pain, she couldn’t even think straight enough to try. Without the mini-game, Sakura couldn’t do anything for Deidara. She needs to practice on other people. She glances over to Sai, losing focus, and her chakra fades. She needs to practice on other people, and she needs to practice in chaotic conditions if this skill will be half-useful as a shinobi. “Hey, Sai,” Sakura interrupts his reading, “what I really need is a teacher. Can you give me a lead?”

“Of course,” he sets his book down on the bed, head tilted toward her, “but I don’t think you’re quite ready for… her yet.”

“Weirdly mysterious,” Sakura drawls, starting to roll up her scrolls. “Why’s that? Who is she?” 

“Lady Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage,” Sai explains, grimacing. “She’s exceptionally talented, truly unparalleled in her generation, but she’s… particular about her apprentices. There’s only one, Shizune, niece of her love, lost in war.” 

“So all I need is a little nepotism and I’m a shoo-in, huh?” Sakura huffs, annoyed. If she’s the greatest around, well, Sakura wants to learn from her. She rises to her feet, striding over to her bed and yanking the covers to the side. “Well, I’ll just have to make her warm up to me. How hard could it be?”

Sai makes a soft noise of apprehension. He scoots over for her, watching, pulling the book back into his hands so that she doesn’t accidentally knock it off the bed. “Don’t you want me to turn the light off?” Sai knits his brow, perplexed as she pulls the blanket over her body and nuzzles into her pillow, on her side and facing him.  

“Nah,” Sakura shuts her eyes, a hand shifting upward to prop the pillow up, “I just need a power nap. I’m a college student, I’m used to sleeping with the room light on. Go ahead, enjoy your book.” 

Sai takes a moment, perhaps placing the world college, or moving past it if it’s something he didn’t understand—

Did they have college here? People seem pretty funnelled into this shinobi lifestyle, herself included, so most other careers are probably mostly accessible through apprenticeship. Before she can dwell on it, Sai moves on, and his question surprises her.

“What do you think happens to me when you’re gone?” 

This alarms her, and she looks up at him, peering curiously at his placid face. He gives nothing away. “Nothing happens. I just come back the next time I’m asleep.”

“Yes, but,” he softly shakes his head, dark eyes focused on hers, “when you’re finished with the game, you won’t appear here anymore.” 

Sakura’s drawn back to the book he’s holding in his hands, his thumb brushing along the spine as he waits for her answer—more nervous than he lets on, she suspects. “I don’t know, Sai,” Sakura answers honestly, “but one of the biggest things about being a person is that you don’t know, and you can’t really control what happens next. I can’t be the first person to play, right?” 

It’s not the answer she’s expecting: “I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re the guide, shouldn’t you know?” Sakura starts, but she realizes that if he doesn’t remember, it won’t do her any good. “I don’t know what happens. But I’ll miss you.”

“I’m not a person,” Sai scoffs, finally averting his eyes and opening his book once more. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Sakura stifles a yawn. “I’ll miss you anyway.” 

Sai watches the words in front of him, none of them making any sense to him. “Well, thank you,” he mutters, flipping the page, even though he hadn’t read the page prior, to give the illusion of nonchalance, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Sakura hums, satisfied that he’s gone back to reading, and she shimmies closer. She nestles in, her eyelids growing heavy, her lashes fluttering closed, and as she dozes off she tries to place Sai’s scent. Her lips curl into a smile, a flutter of amusement in her chest as she falls asleep. Paper, she thinks. He smells like paper. Just like a book. 

...

“Psst, Sleeping Beauty.” 

There’s a gentle nudge to Sakura’s face as a finger prods her cheek. She cracks open an eye to see Hinata hovering over her, hair styled in a thick braid.

“Upsy-daisy,” Hinata says, with another poke to Sakura’s cheek for good measure, “Ino’s redone my hair four times. It’s your turn.” 

Sakura grunts, raising her arm to cover her face, “Ugh, can’t Shino take a turn?”

“Very funny. Your love-bug’s gone to get a round of coffee.” Ino marches over, nudging Sakura’s foot under the blanket. “Come on, we have to start prepping you for your date.” 

“So, are we rooting for Shino or for Neji? I have a stake in both of them.” Hinata raises a brow at the blonde, undoing her own braid. 

Sakura rises to her feet, kicking the blanket aside, “Don’t listen to her. Shino and I are just friends, and it’s just a date. The idea of a relationship right now makes me kind of want to barf.”

“Oh come on, Hinata, you totally see it,” Ino ignores Sakura in favor of her hair, bombarding her with a brush as soon as she stands up. “Tell me Shino isn’t always giving her goo-goo eyes. Actually, that other one—” Ino winces as her brush catches in a particularly nasty knot, “Shit, sorry. Anyway, that older Uchiha, the one I hit—”

“Itachi?” Sakura whines, hand darting up to rub the sore spot on her head, “Ouch, damn.”

“Yes, that one, the one with the cheekbones.”

“I already named him, Ino, what about Itachi?” Sakura huffs. 

Ino dismisses Sakura, turning to Hinata as she brushes the tangles from Sakura’s pink hair, “So, that one is Bachelor Number Three, and he’s definitely the hottest, but he’s her ex-boyfriend’s older brother.”

“Yikes. So, Sasuke’s older brother is into you?” Hinata tunes in on Sakura’s closet, looking for something suitable for a brunch—inevitably fancy, if she knew Neji—and ice skating. 

“No,” Sakura admonishes Ino, eyes narrowing. “Ino blows everything out of proportion. She has a flair for the dramatic.”

“Oh, I totally do,” Ino deftly bops her on the nose, “but I’m also right.”  

“So, what about little side braids and a beanie, since it’ll be cold?” Hinata interrupts. “And how does the Bachelor number system work? Are you taking bets? Because you forgot about Gaara.”

“Fuck, you’re so right! I can’t believe I forgot him, he was totally trying to ask you out.” Realizing she never answered, Ino finishes, “A beanie and braids will work. Cutesy. And we may as well start placing bets. I still think it’s going to be Shino.”

Sakura flushes under the attention, mortified, “You guys, seriously, my dating life is not that exciting. Guys aren’t going to be swarming to be with a busy pre-med student that, pretty soon, won’t have time to pee let alone date.”

“Nonsense,” Hinata holds up a beige beanie with a white pom-pom for inspection. “Shino would be the perfect husband.” 

“Then marry him,” Sakura huffs, crossing her arms. “Seriously, don’t you two have your own love lives?”

“I prefer to live vicariously through you,” Ino quips. “I mean, you know my parents, so I’m enjoying my newfound freedom. A relationship is like a garden, et cetera, et cetera. You get it. Sasuke was a total drag.”

“You sound like Shikamaru,” Sakura points out. 

“And irritatingly, I’m just as right as he always is,” she shrugs, beginning to braid one side of Sakura’s hair. 

“Well, come on, Hinata,” Sakura grumbles. “Don’t you have anything to share with the class? I thought you’re into someone.”

Hinata fumbles, dropping a cardigan she’d pulled from Sakura’s closet. “Wh-Who, me?!” Hinata responds too loudly, turning to Sakura, her cheeks flushed crimson, “Oh, what do I know about romance?” She forces out an uncomfortable laugh, “So, back to your bachelors… I mean, Neji is a good person, I’m sure you two will have lots of fun! A-And you said you’ve never ice-skated before, right? So, you’re probably pretty nervous!”

Ino pauses in her braiding, both young women staring at Hinata before they share a grin.

“See? You’re over here obsessing over my love life when she’s got it so bad.”

Ino resumes her braiding, a smirk playing on her lips, “So, is he hot?”

Sakura watches Hinata unravel. She’s seen Naruto—not in the real world, but everyone else who didn’t have some otherworldly attribute like Hinata’s pearlescent eyes in the game has so far been a spitting image, just dressed appropriately—so she knows the answer: he’s hot.

“W-Well, he’s definitely attractive,” Hinata mumbles, playing with her fingers and avoiding eye contact. “Think sunny blond hair and, um, the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Oh, but—but his personality! Of course, he’s so bright and positive—and brave! Like—”

“Oh, no, baby,” Ino shakes her head, “tell me how you feel when you see him shirtless.”

“Sh—” Hinata squeaks, hands rising to her face, “Shirtless?!”

A throat clears. “Have I come back at a bad time?” Shino mumbles in the open doorway, holding up a carrier of coffees, the lanyard with Ino’s key card in his free hand. 

Sakura snorts, and Hinata throws herself into digging through Sakura’s clothes. 

“Sorry,” Ino finishes the first braid, observing her work with a sly smile, “I’m just teasing my children.”

Soon, she's ready to go. Well, physically speaking, in a tan sweater, jeans, and a beige beanie. Mentally and emotionally speaking, Sakura is still trying to talk herself into it. She can do this. Sakura repeats it to herself like a mantra. This isn’t the game. This is real life. This is a date—an outing, with a man. A man who has the intent for their outing to be romantic. Right? God, did she confirm it was a date date? Was their study “date” supposed to be romantic and she just sat there and studied like an idiot? Sakura blurts her worries out loud as she fiddles with the sleeve of her tan sweater, “Should I be dressed up more? What if he thinks I eat weird, or I skate like a baby giraffe? What if I fuck it up?”

“You’re going to be fine,” Shino says to her, sitting on the edge of her bed and nursing slowly on his cup of mostly lukewarm coffee. “You look lovely. If anything awkward happens, you can laugh it off later. Neji isn’t the type of person to be rude about it.”

Ino jumps in, having redirected her energy to painting Hinata’s fingernails, “He’s the one that wanted to go out with you. If he says anything about how you eat, text me and I’ll come get you.”

“In what car?” Freshmen can’t have cars on campus,” Hinata points out, but she looks up to offer Sakura a reassuring smile. “Neji likes you. Everything will be fine.”

“And if it’s not, I’ll have to catch an Uber to your rescue,” Ino huffs, returning her attention to the top coat of Hinata’s nails. 

“Okay,” Sakura nods, trying to calm the bundle of nerves in her stomach. There’s a knock at their door before Sakura can finish hyping herself up, and she sucks in a sharp breath. It’s definitely not okay, But her feet move toward the door, and when she opens it, Neji Hyuuga is on the other side. Fucking hell. Sakura flushes, her heart fluttering in her chest. 

He looks… dashing. There’s no other word that does him justice, his deep brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail—It reminds her of Neji’s typical style, wisps of hair framing his cheekbones, but the similarities end there. Neji is all earth tones, a tan scarf over a beige sweater. With her beige beanie and tan sweater, well, they’re practically a matching set. He’s holding a bouquet of purple, yellow, and white orchids, carefully wrapped and tied with a strip of ribbon. When Sakura’s clearly too stunned to speak, he offers them out to her, “Hello, Sakura. You look lovely.” He peeks behind her, addressing the others in the room, “Hello, everyone.”

“Hi,” Sakura takes the flowers on impulse, mind blank, and then the surge of anxiety comes, telling her that there’s no way she can get through this date—and what in the world is she supposed to do with these flowers? She doesn’t keep a vase in her dorm, so how long before they wilt? Is it rude to set the down on her desk? “Th—” Sakura fumbles, knowing she needs to thank him, but her brain isn’t working, “Thanks, um, for the flowers. They’re so beautiful.” She hesitates, considering. Is her desk really the best option? Maybe a tumbler cup would work for now?

Ino starts to rise, but Shino’s closer, and he gingerly pulls the flowers from Sakura’s hands. “You two have fun,” he says, giving Neji a soft nod. “One of us will figure out a vase for these.”

“Thanks, Shino,” Neji says. 

Sakura looks at him, still dumbfounded, her cheeks flushed with her embarrassment, and she parrots Neji, “Thanks, Shino.” She sees the shared look between Ino and Hinata, and she knows what they’re thinking—that he likes her, and because of that, he’s looking out for her… and Sakura thinks they have no idea what they’re talking about. How could anyone who likes her send her off so casually. She perks up, feeling a little better with their support, “Bye, guys! I’ll see you all later!” 

And so Sakura leaves with Neji, and because she’s gone, she can never hear Shino to quietly ask Hinata to take care of the flowers because he really needs to go. Sakura can’t see him run a hand through his thick hair, frustrated, and she can’t see the pitiful look Ino gives him as she asks if he’s alright. She isn’t there when he lies and says he’s fine, and that he hopes they have fun on their date.

Brunch goes off without a hitch. The food is delicious, and at one point Neji offers her a bite of his eggs benedict off of his fork—his fork! Neji fed her!—and she returned the favor with her nutella pancakes. 

It doesn’t feel anything like her dates with Sasuke, even if she’s annoyed with herself for comparing the two. Because their relationship was a secret from their families for a while, and they’d known each other for so long, they never had an early, awkward first few date phase. They knew each other’s childhood stories because, well, they’d lived them.

She learns a lot about Neji Hyuuga, some of which tracks with the game and some doesn’t. He and Hinata are still cousins, and their family chairs a medical group. Sakura knew a little about this, but it’s still interesting to hear. They’re close knit, an actual supportive family that gets along in the real world, with holiday parties, matching Christmas sweaters, family reunions in tropical locations. The Uchihas were a similarly close knit family, if a little quiet about it, so it’s kind of nice to think that even if she and Sasuke were done-zo, she didn’t cut off her only chance at a huge family.

They get to her. It’s just her and her parents, and she’d wanted to be a doctor for quite a while. She’s never liked talking about herself, but having someone on a similar path to her is reassuring. Neji has advice, references to professors she can expect to have next year—they even have the same useless advisor, Kakashi Hatake. 

He’s not too much like his game counterpart: the cool, bitter Neji who hurt Hinata and raged against his fate in the arena with Naruto. Sakura rests her cheek on her palm, leaning her elbow on the table as she fondly listens to him recount a childhood story about Hinata crashing her bike into her father’s car and him trying to help her bang the dent out so he didn’t notice—it didn’t work, but it’d been a valiant effort. Before she knows it, their plates sit empty and it’s time to go.

And then, full of pancakes, Sakura is put to the test. She thought there couldn’t be situations more uncomfortable than the game had already put her in: beaten up in the Forest of Death, freezing in a cave, tied up in a bathtub. Still, they hadn’t prepared her for a pair of rented ice skates on low-quality ice, for her first time ice skating.

“You’re doing great,” Neji offers, but he’s lying. 

She is not, in fact, doing great. She wobbles precariously, hands gripping the wall of the rink to help her keep her balance. Oh, fucking hell. She sighs, agitated, forever stuck on the precipice of falling. Sakura knows she must look like a baby giraffe. 

“Just keep your knees a little bent,” Neji holds his hands up, as if to steady her should Sakura topple his way, but she keeps her firm grip on the wall.

“My knees are bent,” Sakura rebuttals, eyeing a small child skating by themselves. What the hell? She’s an adult, why can’t she do this? She grits her teeth, glaring down at her skates—God, her ankles feel like they’re about to snap off. People do this for fun? People do tricks on these damn things?

Neji offers his hands out to her, gingerly coaxing her from the wall as she slowly drags each foot along the ice before lifting them to walk. He places a hand on her hip, the other holding her arm to steady her balance, and his lips are curled in a slim smile as he tries to stifle his amusement, “You’re cute.”

Sakura flushes, her brow knitting, and she huffs, “Don’t call me cute!” She bristles as he only chuckles at her, his hold on her hip and arm tightening. Still, she relaxes, trying to focus on the sweep of her feet along the ice in an attempted glide. She wobbles, threateningly, and when she goes down this time without the safety of the wall to catch her, Neji is there instead.

He goes down with her, taking the blow of hard ice beneath him, legs parting to wedge her into him so that he wouldn’t accidentally cut her with his skates—if there was a graceful way to fall on one’s own ass, Neji would be the one to find it, Sakura muses.

“Sorry,” she groans in embarrassment, a hand finding the ice to try and push herself off of him.

There’s a gentle tug on her scarf, “Are you alright?”

Sakura finally focuses on his face, and the look of concern on his face finally fades into a soft smirk at their positioning when he realizes that she’s fine, and puts together the position that they’re in—Sakura practically in his lap, facing him, one arm propping her up. “I’m fine,” she says, her throat suddenly dry. “Nothing bruised but my ego.”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, head tilting, that amused smirk still playing on his lips. 

His lips. Sakura stiffens. She’s not—She’s not ready. A first kiss since Sasuke in the game was one thing, but in real life? In a skating rink? Sure, it’s not crowded, but she can practically feel the eyes watching, the few other people watching her terrible first time skating. 

“Hey,” Neji surprises her by resting his gloved hand on top of her head, “You look like I caught you off guard. Another time maybe, hmm?”

She feels at ease, and then embarrassed for how relieved she feels at the prospect of not kissing Neji Hyuuga. “I, um, I’m sorry! It’s my first date in a while, and I’m just not ready—”

“Oh, no, don’t be sorry,” he gently tugs one of her braids and then shifts to help her off of him so that he can rise, smooth enough on his skates that a shot of envy washes through Sakura, and he offers his hands to help her up. “You don’t have to apologize or explain yourself. I probably shouldn’t have asked on our first date. I thought you looked too lovely to pass up asking.” He pulls her up with ease, “Please forgive me for making it awkward.”

“It’s not awkward!” Sakura protests, still mortified. It’s totally awkward. She’s been with three virtual people since Sasuke, and yeah, alright, they’re a bunch of pixels—but it still felt real! Neji is charming, handsome, polite… so why’s it different? Because there were real world ramifications to falling in love, or having someone fall in love with her? She’s overthinking it.

As if nothing had happened, Neji continues to guide her along as she shakily glides across the ice. With Sakura distracted, eyes flickering nervously to his lips and away before he can notice.

They stay at the ice rink for a little over another hour, but despite Neji’s attempts to rekindle their friendly banter, Sakura’s stuck in her head. She tries to respond, tries to rekindle the budding chemistry she felt at brunch, but now all she can feel is a bundle of nerves at the idea of kissing him and her frustration at her own ankles—which feel like they might snap in her skates at any moment. 

Finally, Neji politely calls it, suggesting that he’s the one tuckered out. Sakura sheepishly returns her skates and they leave in silence. Sakura’s fingers twitch toward him, tempted to take his hand to try and rekindle something romantic on their second dud of a date—now that she thinks about it, maybe their study session did count as a date, and they’re just particularly awkward together. He doesn’t notice, and her hand falls awkwardly back to her side. Geez, she inwardly grumbles, this shit is hard. The date had seemed to be going well in the beginning, but now… well, she’s ready to be back in her dorm. 

They make idle conversation in the car, but it’s nowhere near as intimate as before. “So,” he starts, pulling onto the stretch of road that will bring them back toward campus, “would it be alright if I take you out again sometime?”

Sakura fidgets with her hands in her lap. Yeesh. Not even that he wants to take her out again, he’s asking if it would be alright. This afternoon has made it clear to her… whatever she can do in the game, she isn’t necessarily ready for in real life, with real commitments. “Well, um…” 

Sirens go off, surprising the pair, and tell-tale lights blink in Neji’s mirrors.

Neji frowns, caught off-guard, and he grumbles to himself as he pulls off to the side of the road. The car behind them follows suit, lights flashing silently. 

“You weren’t speeding, were you?” Sakura asks, peeking behind her to look at the cop car pulling them over. 

“No,” he parks the car, rolling down the window and waiting for the officer to approach. “And I used my turn signal to merge. I don’t know why he’s pulling me over.” 

Sakura grunts, brow knit, and when she sees the officer step out of his car in Neji’s rearview mirror, she stifles a gasp. No. That’s not—God, it is. She’s half-tempted to duck down in her seat—not that it would get her far. “Oh, fucking hell.”

“Sorry,” Neji says, “it’ll probably be quick.”

Before she can tell him that’s not it, a head of dark, slightly curly hair appears at the window. Equally dark eyes peer directly over Neji, at Sakura, and the officer’s lips curl in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Good afternoon, I’m Officer Shisui Uchiha with the New Easton police department. License and registrations, please.” 

“My license is in my wallet, in my pocket, and my registration is in the glove compartment,” Neji replies, his hands loosely resting on the steering wheel.

“That’s fine,” Shisui remarks, addressing Neji, but his eyes never leave Sakura.

She grits her teeth, annoyed. Why’s he looking at her like he’s caught her doing something wrong? Sakura continues to fidget with her hands, avoiding Shisui’s stern gaze. What are the odds of someone she knew—and her favorite of the older Uchiha cousins, the closest one to Itachi and someone who has known her since she was a little girl—pulling them over on the short drive back to campus? 

Neji pulls his wallet from his pocket, and then leans over to pull a plastic slip with his registration out of his glove box. He offers his license and the slip containing his registration to Shisui, who doesn’t move toward his car to go run them.

Sakura glances back at the car, and then at Shisui casually glancing over Neji’s license. 

“So,” Shisui drawls, “Mr. Hyuuga, lovely afternoon for a date, isn’t it?”

Neji hesitates, perplexed, “Yes, it is.”

Sakura sits up straight, irritation prickling under her skin, “Can I ask why you’ve pulled us over today, Officer Uchiha?”  

Her seething tone stings and Shisui’s smile falters at her pointed formality. Face solemn, he answers her, “Your taillight’s out.” 

“Oh,” Sakura huffs, narrowing her eyes, “is it?”

He breaks into a slim smile once more—to the average eye, he might even look pleasant, but Sakura knows him well enough to know he’s annoyed. “It is,” he says, eyes squinted at her,  “but it’s a happy coincidence to see you. Everyone misses you at family functions. You have my number if you ever need anything, don’t you? If not,” Shisui sends a pointed glance Neji’s way before looking back at Sakura, “just ask Itachi.” 

“Oh—” Sakura mumbles, shooting an apologetic glance Neji’s way, “Uh, yeah, thanks Shisui. I still have it. Miss you guys too.”

Shisui perks up at that, slapping the roof of Neji’s car, “Well, I can let you kids off without a repair order. Good luck at school, Sakura.” He hands Neji his license and registration back, offering him a cheeky salute before returning to his car. 

They sit in stunned silence for a moment before Neji, abashed, rolls his window up, “So do you think my taillight is really out, or do you think the Uchihas are obsessed with you? That’s your ex’s family member, right?”

“Oh, God,” Sakura presses a hand to her temple, sighing gruffly. “If that light’s out, I’ll eat a hat. He probably saw my hair in the parking lot and knew it was me.”

“Is he into you?” 

Sakura stifles a laugh, “What? No way. I mean, sure, I’m eighteen—but Shisui is an older cousin, he and Itachi have always seen me as a baby sister they have to look out for. Their whole family, really. They have a knack for baby boys, so they all doted on me when I came over.”

Neji hums in response, glancing behind him before he pulls back out on the road, and even though it’s still a little awkward, they drive home in better spirits. With Sakura talking and laughing about her childhood full of intrusive, nosy Uchihas, it’s almost as though nothing had gone wrong on their date at all.

When they arrive, Sakura gets out, and Neji doesn’t turn the car off immediately.

“I have to know,” he calls to her out of her open door. “Is the light out?”

Sakura breaks into a grin, taking a few steps to look at the back of the car. She lets out a small gasp, a hand rising to her face, “It’s out!” 

Neji snickers, turning off the car and stepping out to join her, “Well, I won’t make you eat a hat. Can I walk you up?” 

“Haven’t you had enough of the third degree? You want it from Ino too?” Sakura shifts, her hip jutting to her side, as one arm moves to nervously rub along the other. She offers him a timid smile. Today had gone well, hadn’t it? Sure, she thought things weren’t going well for a stretch—God, was her life always this awkward?—but everything turned out fine in the end. Perhaps she can afford to be… a little bold? She opens her arms for a hug. 

Neji accepts, his arms wrapping snugly around her. “First dates are always a little awkward,” he says, just starting to pull away. “Maybe next time—”

Sakura surprises him, her lips grazing his cheek in a timid peck. She pulls back, cheeks flushed, averting her eyes because she can’t believe she really did that, “Maybe next time I’ll be a little braver.” She hangs back, watching his stunned, flushed expression with amusement. “See you next time!” She chuckles, giving a small wave before turning off on her heel and running off. Alright. That was stressful, but she survived it, didn’t she? Her first date since Sasuke—she still can’t ice skate, and her ankles hurt, but she did it. 

Sakura can barely open the door before Ino launches out of her desk chair, demanding details. 

...

Her days in the real world are spent preparing a research paper, and her nights are spent studying the history of Konohagakure medicine—essentially magical medicine, since glowing green chakra isn’t something she can apply in the real world—with Sai, who is more interested in books on relationships than her medical ninjutsu. They spend days like this, eating and studying, until one morning Sai sits up sharply from his position in her bed.

“What?” Sakura asks, alarmed enough to almost drop her scroll on the Nara medicinal research facilities.

“The retrieval squad is starting to arrive,” he says, glancing toward her window. “You should get to the hospital.”

Sakura perks up, thrilled at the idea of progress. Sure, she’s learned a lot, but she’s itching for something that’s not studying. She changes, donning a red dress with her clan’s ensignia and compression shorts, roughly tugging her fingers through her hair and getting ready to leave.

Sakura, like apparently a significant portion of Konoha, flocks to the hospital, waiting for news on the Sasuke retrieval squad. She heard the fuss of Choji Akimichi’s return to the village in critical condition on her way hear, after Sai’s tip to leave, sending her and several others to the hospital like a homing beacon as everyone waits to find out what happened. Choji’s father—a man who she’s left no choice but to assume is his father, anyway, by the striking resemblance—is in the waiting room by the time she arrives, explaining to Shikamaru’s father the latest news: Choji’s organs are failing, and with his chakra exhaustion and all of his burnt up energy reserves, it isn’t looking good. “But he’s a strong boy,” Choji’s father says with forced optimism, “we have to believe he’ll pull through.”

Shikamaru’s father throws a comforting arm around Choji’s father, and the conversation shifts to quieter whispers so as to not alarm the Hyuuga and Inuzuka members, who’d started to arrive.

Ino spots her and approaches, teary eyed. “Sakura,” Ino starts, faltering, “Choji, he’s…”

Sakura knows that this is her rival in the game, but she reminds her so much of her roommate that Sakura throws her arms around her anyway, “I heard. But he’s back, and the doctors are doing everything they can. We just have to trust that everything is going to be okay.”

“What if I lose him?” Ino asks between hiccuping sobs, burying herself into Sakura’s shoulder, “Shikamaru’s still out there. What if I lose them both?”

Sakura coos to her, making soft soothing noises as she runs a hand up and down her back, “Come on, Shikamaru is strong and smart. Think about everyone out there. Think about the Chunin Exams. Those are some of the toughest people we know.”

That seems to soothe Ino a bit, and her father—Sakura knows Mr. Yamanaka from the real world, vaguely—comes to comfort her shortly, offering Sakura a polite thank you as he helps his daughter to her feet. He ushers her to the edge of the room, shielding her and giving her some privacy to compose herself.

Sakura waits, knowing that Choji is only one of several out on that mission—but Shikamaru didn’t strike her as the type who would carelessly leave someone behind unless the situation truly called for it, and Naruto certainly wouldn’t have left someone so direly injured whether logic called for it or not, so there must be a reason. Perhaps he wasn’t injured at the time. Either that, or something has gone terribly wrong. Sakura thinks that she might feel better if she takes a short walk. A watched pot never boils, after all, and since she doesn’t know Choji particularly well, she feels a little out of place.

Sakura stands outside, scoping out the emergency bay in preparation for anyone else to arrive, among more concerned relatives and friends. Hinata’s there, which surprises her. Sure, her cousin is on the mission, but he isn’t particularly nice to her. Ah, wait, Sakura realizes, Kiba is on her team, isn’t he? And their third teammate is—Sakura glances around, noticing Shino standing nearby. Everyone’s keeping a respectable distance, no one bold enough to block the way, and for a long time they all wait with no news.

When Neji is brought back to the hospital in somehow worse condition, her confidence in the team falters. Maybe she was meant to follow along, even if both the Hokage and Shikamaru forbade it? But still, what could she have done that Neji couldn’t? She’s never liked game-Neji much—not after watching him beat Hinata up, even if he has a pretty face—but seeing him brought into the hospital, barely alive with the curse mark he’d told the world about during the Chunin Exams bare for all to see, Sakura can’t help the tug at her heartstrings. There’s a sinking feeling in her gut as she watches his handsome face, unconscious, covered in scratches as they transport him through the emergency bay. What happened out there? Sakura can hear Hinata let out a choked sob. Part of her feels like she should apologize, but she isn’t sure why. For not beating the everliving pulp out of Sasuke on sight? She looks at the worried faces around her, silently vowing to give Sasuke a good smack the next time she can catch him off guard.

The others return in better condition. Kiba is injured, but his wounds aren’t critical, and Shikamaru is all cuts and scrapes. They’re still waiting for Naruto, but it’s clear to Sakura that something went wrong with the mission. Sakura tilts her head, guilt weighing on her, thinking of the promise that Naruto had made to her. He must be devastated. 

Sakura wishes she could be a fly on the wall in those emergency rooms. She wants to learn more about medical ninjutsu—of course, now isn’t the appropriate time to ask. Sakura wanders back into the waiting room, settling next to Ino and her father as they wait. 

Eventually, there is good news all around. When a staff member whispers to the Akimichi clan head, who boldly announces that his son is in stable condition, Ino grips Sakura’s hand so hard she thinks the blonde girl might’ve bruised it. The news that Naruto has returned, spent but alive, buzzes through the crowd. Sakura shoots to her feet, Ino shooting up beside her and still clutching her hand tightly. There’s no news on Sasuke. Sakura wishes she’d been outside to see Naruto come back. All she can do is wait to see them. 

Just as that buzz dies down, an imposing man with Hinata and a younger girl at his side announces that Neji Hyuuga has pulled through. Relief passes through the crowd. Everyone on the mission had made it back alive—the gossip spreads, though most people are wildly off about their guesses at the nature of the mission. So, it wasn’t common knowledge that Sasuke had defected yet. It was widely believed to be an intelligence mission regarding Orochimaru’s minions in the nearby area, gone terribly wrong. A partial truth. Evidently, some of Konoha’s other ninja had been out scouting, and they’re all brought back in similar stead—injured, but alive, and a field medic had prevented the worst case scenario. 

Finally, finally the check in desk is allowing relevant visitors. Family first, of course, but Ino and Sakura go up to the sign-in desk together as soon as friends and teammates are allowed. 

“I was gonna go check in on Choji and see how he’s doing,” Ino explains, but she doesn’t need to. They’ve already heard that Shikamaru is well enough, it makes sense to visit the most injured. “How about you?”

The answer should be obvious—Naruto’s her teammate. She knows this is Shikamaru’s route, but considering he’s fine, she’s worried about her injured friend too. “I just thought I’d look in on Naruto,” hastily, and because she doesn’t want to imply that they’ve failed without knowing for sure, Sakura adds, “and Sasuke, if he’s there.”

Sakura is brought to Naruto’s hospital room, and to her surprise, she can hear a conversation from just outside the door. It’s Shikamaru, confirming with Naruto that Sasuke is indeed gone. She gasps, her hand flinching away from the handle. God, Naruto must be heartbroken. Sakura hesitates, unsure what to do.

A woman’s voice interrupts her thoughts, “Here for a visit?”

Sakura turns to see a friendly face, the woman from the preview, a beautiful blonde with warm brown eyes and a purple diamond crest in the middle of her forehead. A text box appears, identifying her: Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage and a member of the legendary Sanin, a trio of extremely powerful shinobi that originated in the Hidden Leaf. The box goes on, talking about her medical prowess, forward personality, and affinity for booze and gambling—Sakura squints. Wait a minute, that can’t be right. Still, this is the woman Sai told her about, but an affinity for booze and gambling? 

“News travels fast, I see,” Tsunade goes on, a small smile on her lips. She opens the door, forcing Sakura to confront Naruto.

He looks awful, there’s no gentle way to go about it, and the crestfallen expression on his face breaks her heart. He’s bandaged all across his skin, only bits of his face and ears peeking out between the strips of white. But he’s alive. That’s more than Sakura could have asked for, considering the gossip swirling around the hospital about the monstrous enemies they faced out there. Gently, she says his name, “Naruto…”

That shocks him back to the present, his cerulean eyes shimmering with tears. He looks away from her without responding.

Tsunade addresses him, her tone light, trying to lift the mood, “I heard your injuries were pretty serious. You seem to be doing well, considering.” The message seems clear to Sakura: go easy on him, he could’ve died. 

Naruto pauses, still avoiding eye contact, before he speaks, “I’m… sorry, Sakura.”

Sakura is taken aback for a moment, before she forces a sheepish smile, her chest aching at what she’d put him through, “Sorry?” She panics, sounding too casual, “What’ve you got to be sorry about?” Yikes. She inwardly reels. She hadn’t considered the consequences of putting the weight of her expectations on Naruto—he’s always so cheerful. The soft, defeated pout on his face as he refuses to look at her weighs on her heart.  

He doesn’t respond.

What can she say to lift his mood, to bring back the boisterous Naruto? She starts to walk forward, around the edge of the bed, and she can feel Shikamaru’s eyes on her—probably wondering what she could possibly say to make him feel better. “Let me guess, you went off half-cocked again, huh? Look at you now, you look like a mummy.” 

“I’m…” Naruto starts again, his voice practically a whisper, “so sorry.”

“Hey, why do you have the curtains closed? It’s a beautiful day outside, see?” She opens the hospital curtains, looking out over the city, trying to calm her nerves. See, Naruto? The sun is still shining. It’s going to be okay. She rests her hands on the window sill, leaning forward. 

Naruto leans forward, his voice rising, “I haven’t given up. Listen, I’m still gonna keep my promise. After all, it was the promise of a lifetime. I meant it!”

“It’s okay, Naruto,” Sakura starts, sensing the shift in his mood. That’s right. Don’t think about failure. Think about moving forward. “Really.” The less she looks at him right now, the more he seems to seek her out. 

Shikamaru comes to Naruto’s defense, speaking up for his friend, “He tried, Sakura.”

“If I say I’m gonna do it,” Naruto protests, his voice finally back to normal, the confidence she’s used to ringing out, “that means I will, ‘kay?” From the corner of her eye, she can see him sit up straight, “Don’t forget, my way of the shinobi means I always stand behind what I say.”

Sakura turns toward him, her lips pulling into a soft smile. There’s the normal Naruto. 

Shikamaru gives a soft huff of approval—maybe he’s caught on to what she’d been guiding him toward. 

She looks at his bright smile, despite all of his injuries, the bandages wrapped around nearly every bit of his skin, and his ruined Leaf headband. When he chuckles, and Sakura knows that he’s confident in himself once again, she shifts to press her closed fist to her heart. She feels like it might beat out of her chest. Sakura inwardly thanks him. Sasuke is lucky to have such a good friend. She’s lucky. “Of course. Thank you, Naruto. I know that if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

And out of the corner of her eye, Sakura sees something unexpected—the gentle shimmer of Shikamaru’s heart meter as it turns blue. Ah, good. So, he did figure it out. Well, she’d already known he was intelligent. 

What Sakura does not see, however, is the quizzical raise of Shikamaru’s brow as she goes on to chat with Naruto about the battles.

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Four: Shikamaru Nara - Green Heart

Not long after Sakura boosted Naruto’s spirits, Shikamaru chooses to make himself scarce, with the excuse that he was making his rounds to his injured teammates. Soon, Tsunade follows suit, leaving only Naruto and Sakura in the hospital room. Even though she’d always wanted to be a doctor, hospital rooms make her uncomfortable—maybe it was knowing the person in the bed that made the difference. She hates that she can’t do anything for Naruto except stroke his ego.

“What’re you thinking about, Sakura?” Naruto shifts, as though to make more room for her as she sits on the edge of the bed, but there’s nowhere for him to go. 

She knows what he wants to ask—Is she thinking about Sasuke? And she is, sort of. She’s thinking about what a rotten little bastard he’d been to knock her out and beat up his best friend. Sure, he’s desperate for his revenge against the person who murdered his family, but Naruto and Sakura deserve to be a little salty about it. Since Naruto isn’t the type to hold a grudge, well, it’s up to her. Besides that, she’s thinking of how irresponsible she was to let Naruto make a promise of a lifetime to return someone that doesn’t want to be here. Knowing how disheartened Naruto had just been, and knowing that he’d think she was only letting him off the hook as a courtesy, she opts for a deflection, “I’m just wondering whether those poor nurses had to run around you like they’re twirling ribbon or if they had to spin you like a rotisserie chicken to get all those bandages on.” 

He snickers, averting his eyes bashfully—not used to being the center of attention, Sakura suspects, let alone her attention. “Yeah, well, the doctors have to focus on worse injuries than my little scratches and bruises.”

Hmm. Sakura perks up at that. Maybe she actually can do something for Naruto. Something little, and something she’s working on, but still. “Well, how bad are those scratches? I’ve actually been training in medical ninjutsu. I’m alright at doing it on myself, where the chakra signature is familiar, but I don’t exactly have a lot of friends with small scratches that’ll let me practice on them.”

Naruto beams at her, excitement practically radiating off of him as he looks at her with his bright blue eyes, “Wow! Medical ninjutsu? You’re so awesome, Sakura! Let’s do it!” His hands dart up, ready to yank the bandages from his face, and Sakura’s hands rise to stop him.

“Whoa, whoa,” Sakura says, gingerly holding his hand in hers as she pulls it down and away from his face. “Let’s start with your hand. It’ll be easier to rewrap if I’m no good at it.”

Naruto scoffs, “Of course you’ll be good at it, Sakura. I’ve never seen you learn something and not be good at it. Remember when we learned how to walk up trees with chakra control? You mastered it like, right away.”

Sakura flushes, pleased with his praise. Sure, she’s got a head up on things because she isn’t from this world and gains experience from the different routes—but still, for someone with no ninja experience, she is doing pretty well. “I’ve been having trouble mastering this, but with a little practice I hope that I can do it. Maybe I’ll be a top notch medic someday.”

Naruto starts to unwrap the bandages around his hand, offering it out to her as he bobs his head eagerly, “I know you will, Sakura!” Go ahead, give it your best shot!”

Sakura smiles at him reassuringly. Naruto is so willing that she feels a tad guilty about experimenting on him, but she reminds herself that he’s just a game character—and besides that, it would either do nothing or work, as far as she’s aware. There was nothing in her reading about causing additional damage—not on little surface wounds like his. On tiny scratches, abrasions, and bruises, her chakra is merely speeding up the natural healing process. She settles his hand upward-facing in her lap and works through the hand signs she’d memorized by heart. Sure enough, her hand glows green, and she holds her glowing fingertips over the thin scratches along Naruto’s palm.

Nothing happens.

Sakura hovers her hand over the scratches, willing the skin to stitch itself together, whole and unblemished, but the thin marks remain. What the hell is she doing wrong?

Her frustration must be obvious, because Naruto cheers her on, “Don’t give up; you can do it, Sakura!”

She hopes for that a-ha moment, like when she first broke the barrier in her training with Gaara. She will even settle for a surprise—like when she shattered the ground. Sakura holds her hand, glowing a soft green, over his own until she can’t hold her chakra any longer. The chakra fades, sputtering, and Sakura can feel it die out in her hands as the green dissipates. 

Naruto is silent for a few moments, before he quietly offers, “I bet if you rest for a minute and try again, next time it will work for sure.” He makes no motion to remove his hand from her lap.

Sakura watches her fingertips, trying to recall the feeling of healing her own skin. What’s the difference? Is it her natural reaction to her own chakra? And how can she get that chakra to adapt to another person? “Maybe…” Sakura starts, looking up to give Naruto a sheepish smile, “But I think you need some rest, and I think I should hit the books a little more. I’m close to a breakthrough, I can feel it.”

Naruto pauses, mesmerized as Sakura gingerly rewraps his bandages. When his brain catches up, he sputters, flushing, “W-Well of course you’re close! Yeah, next time you’ll get it for sure! You know, one day you’re going to be better than Grandma Tsunade!”

She’s not certain that the Hokage would appreciate being called Grandma, but Sakura smiles at the praise, “Oh, you know it. You’re gonna need some powerhouses in your corner to drag Sasuke back here, and for later when you’re Hokage, aren’t you?”

Naruto falters, quipping out a cheery, “Obviously!” Still, Sakura can see his cheeks—the bits of them that aren’t covered in bandages, anyway—deepen to an even brighter crimson. He smiles right back at her, “Yeah, you can count on it! We’ll both be the best at what we do!”

Finished rewrapping his hand, Sakura lets go, watching as Naruto hesitantly pulls back. She considers him, this bubbly blond that seems to so desperately want approval, and wonders what his life was like growing up. She knows the lore from the app, of course, but what was his life actually like? “Sasuke is lucky to have a friend like you,” Sakura starts warily. Of course, as her teammate, Naruto knows her character’s backstory—and the fundamentality of her relationship, or lack thereof, with Sasuke—well enough to disbelieve it when she goes for someone else. Especially right now, when Naruto thinks Sasuke needs them. “I want to save him too, of course. He lost his family—that’s a hard life. And I want to be there for him—but I think I only want to be there as a friend. As family.”

Naruto kind of gawks at her, registering, his mouth hanging slightly ajar, “You’re saying…?”

“I’m saying that I see Sasuke in… a different light now. As someone who broke my heart. And that doesn’t mean I don’t care about him, or that I want him to fall in the hands of Orochimaru. I just love him in a… sisterly sort of way.” When Naruto only stares at her in response, blue eyes wide, Sakura babbles, “Platonically. As friends. Are you familiar with the trope found family? No? Uh, well, anyway… I just don’t see him as a romantic option.”

“Because he knocked you out?” Naruto’s face shifts, his brows knitting together. His jaw juts to the side, lips pulling into a twisted frown.

“I mean, yeah,” Sakura rubs the back of her neck, chuckling at the situation. Any man who knocked her out and left her on a bench would certainly not be boyfriend material in real life. She knows that. Still, things are a little more high-stakes here. “But also no. I just don’t think Sasuke wants or needs a girlfriend right now. I think Sasuke needs, well, a family, and I think that’s us: you, me, and Kakashi-sensei. So, I’m going to shift my… romantic interests somewhere else.” Code: please don’t be alarmed when you see me making out with your friend. Sakura thinks of the real Sasuke, straying from his family, because for whatever reason he decided he didn’t want or need her, just like this Sasuke—and she hates that it’s making things tense between him and his brother. Even if it’s his own damn fault.

He gets misty eyed, sniffling sharply before he tries to play it off, “Geez, Sakura, if you wanted to tell me that I’m like a big brother to you, you could’ve just said so.”

Gah. Sakura has to resist the temptation to pinch his cheek. Why’s he so cute? Does he like her, or is he attention-starved? Well, Sakura suspects it’s both. She settled for ruffling his hair, “Please, you’re both like my loud little brothers, fighting all the time. So you focus on getting better, alright? And then we’ll both go get our idiot, wayward brother.” She’s unprepared for how touched he looks in that moment—eyes still misty, bottom lip trembling, entirely vulnerable.

“That’s what I told him, that he’s like the brother I never had,” Naruto admits, his voice cracking. “Like this team is the family I’ve never had. I didn’t know you felt that way about us too. But he didn’t care.”

Sakura is pretty sure she’s just family-zoned herself, but it’s probably for the best if she’s about to go toss herself at Shikamaru Nara—which she is. She’s also pretty sure she knows what he wants to hear, reassurance, and Sakura’s starting to get choked up as well: “Of course I care about you, you big idiot.” 

He sniffles, shifting his gaze away, clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t crying, “I better rest up then, so we can go drag the bastard back to his family.” He smiled wanly, still avoiding eye contact, “Thanks, Sakura.”

Sakura feels a pang of guilt, her heart constricting sharply. She’s the one who put him in this position, and clearly her character never gave him the attention he so deeply craves. He’s a sweet young man—it’s a shame he’s been through so much. Why are all these damn backstories so cruel? “Sleep well, Naruto.” The thought crosses her mind that her teammates’ routes might be dangerous for her, and for them—What if what happened to Gaara happens to Naruto? What would she do then? What about if he was deleted because of her, lost forever to the game? Of course, there’s a real Naruto out there, somewhere, but she’s responsible for this Naruto. His dreams—becoming the Hokage, having a family, and being alive in general—are reliant on her making the right choices in her narratives.

He gives her a soft smile, nestling into the pillow of his hospital bed.

She’s tempted to smooth his hair, or tuck him in, but Sakura decides to just wait with him. It’s been an emotional day, and she doesn’t want to impose. Knowing she would eventually be inserted in a romantic role, she feels like it’s a step too far, even if she wants to offer him comfort. Finally, when the soft rumble of his breathing tells Sakura that Naruto is asleep, she stands and gingerly smooths the spot on his blanket where she’d been sitting. Sakura bides her time leaving, pulling the curtains closed so that he can sleep without the daylight’s interference. With a last lingering look to Naruto, who quickly succumbed to a deep sleep after his exhausting mission, Sakura slides open the door and steps out into the hall.

And there, hand poised to knock on Naruto’s hospital room door, is Gaara of the desert. He jerks backward to stop her from colliding full force into his chest, his raised arm lowering to his side. “Sakura Haruno,” he says pointedly, as if forcing himself to remember her name, “I came to see Naruto Uzumaki. But as you’re here, I should apologize to you as well, for the Chunin Exams.”

Her thoughts whirr like a movie, snippets of scenes two and a half lifetimes ago: copying off of her exam, holding her in the forest, the look on his face when he told her that he loved her. What is he doing here? Sakura desperately tries to recall the actual events of the plot, the narrative that the routes branch out from, and she can’t force her brain to work. She offers a weak smile, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He shifts on his feet, averting his eyes, “For hurtling you into that tree.” He’s clearly uncomfortable, not well practiced at apologizing.

Sakura tries to place that in the narrative—Yes! After the final exam was interrupted, Sasuke confronted Gaara, and the game’s Sakura tried to protect him. Gaara, partially overcome by the Shukaku at this point, uses his sand to pin her to a large tree trunk. She realizes she’s thinking too long, and shakes her head softly, “Don’t—Don’t worry about it, okay? You guys were all being tricked by Orochimaru.”

His gaze shifts back to her sharply, brow knitting, “Regardless, I apologize for hurting you. I’m here to see Naruto. I’m told he is well enough for visitors.”

Sakura nods. His familiar eyes—minut the affection she was used to seeing there—make her uncomfortable. Still, it’s better than the alternative. It’s better than him glitching out the code erasing him out of the game. “I forgive you, so please don’t trouble yourself over it. As for Naruto, he just fell asleep,” Sakura starts to pass him, shifting nervously around him to get by, “but if you give him a bit and circle back, I’m sure he’d like to see you.” She starts to walk, ready to put some distance between them, when his hand catches her forearm. 

“Excuse me,” he pulls his hand back, averting his eyes once more, realizing that was inappropriate. He takes a moment to formulate the thought before he warily asks her, “There’s… There’s a tea house, isn’t there? With you, I…” He winces, a hand darting to his temple.

Shit.

“I remember,” he says again, urgently, his eyes meeting here. He winces again, and Sakura feels a lump in her throat. “I remember that the tea was sweet.”

Struck with an idea, she leans past him, banging roughly on the door before she yanks it open once more. “Naruto!” She practically yells, forcing the words out of her mouth, “Gaara came to visit you!”

Naruto rouses, grumbling, and Sakura takes the opportunity to dash down the hallway. There’s no hand reaching out, or sand yanking her back, and Sakura makes her escape. Eventually, she feels comfortable enough to slow down, wondering where she could possibly find Shikamaru. Alright, so Gaara is here—unexpected, but if she can avoid him, Sakura assures herself, then everything would be fine. Right? Right. She just needs to focus on Shikamaru, and beating the route as quickly as possible, so Gaara doesn’t stumble upon her again.

…

“No, seriously,” Hinata squeaks from inside the dressing room, “I can’t get it off.” She opens the dressing room door a crack, peeking out for her friends.

“Alright,” Ino says, swiftly entering, “I’ll give it a shot.” She pauses at the sight that awaits her: Hinata in a slim green dress clearly too tight around her dress. “Are you sure? Because that Naruto guy you like would be a moron to—”

“Ino!” Hinata hisses, beet red, “Come on, help me get it off! I’m serious, it’s stuck.” After several unsuccessful tugs on Ino’s part, she turns to the crack in the door, whining for Sakura.

“Alright, alright,” Sakura squeezes into the dressing room, closing the door behind her. “Arms up Houdini, we’ll get you out.” They’d come to the mall in search of matching dresses in pink, light green, and powder blue to fit Ino’s costume idea of being the Powerpuff Girls for the festival. Sakura knows she has the smallest breasts of the trio—Ino has been curvy since their early teen years, and has never hesitated to tease her about it—but Hinata’s breasts were… an unexpected challenge. 

“What the fuck are you eating?” Ino takes one side of the dress, trying to yank the rolled fabric up over her chest. “Is there, like, a cream I can order or something? Because I would pay good money—”

“That’s enough, Ino,” Sakura grabs Hinata’s torso, trying to yank her downward to shimmy her out. “Can you focus on pulling?”

“We’re going to have to cut it off,” Hinata sighs, her bottom lip trembling.

“Hell no!” Ino scoffs, “We’ve totally got this!”

Sakura feels the fabric budge, slowly rolling upward, “Okay, arms straight, it’s happening.”

“It’s not,” Hinata protests, her pitch heightening—She’s starting to panic. Unable to see, she wriggles, trying to force the rest of the fabric up and off of her.

Slowly, they free Hinata from the vice, the three of them surprised at how out of breath they’ve found themselves.

“Jeez,” Ino grumbles, “this was more work for a slutty Halloween costume than I expected.”

“Okay, so we’re sizing up on that…” Sakura holds up the discarded dress, “What’s left, shoes, belts, a ribbon for me, and some scrunches for you?”

Hinata groans, slipping her sweater back on, “God, not shoes.”

Ino throws open the door, startling a worker gathering an armful of discarded clothes. 

He looks at them skeptically, practically sneering, dyed blue hair hanging in his face, “You can’t be in the dressing rooms together.” 

“Sorry,” Hinata starts sheepishly.

“She was stuck,” Sakura chirps, nudging Ino and Hinata forward. “We’re sorry! We’ll get going.”

Recognition flickers over his face, and he brightens, grinning mischievously, “Pink hair.”

“Uh,” Sakura falters, “blue hair.” 

He shrugs it off with a snicker, heading toward the other dressing rooms in search of abandoned clothes, “Nevermind. You have a good one.” 

…

Sakura finds Shikamaru exactly where Ino had told her that he would be: the field along training ground number three, where a particularly large tree provides the perfect amount of shade at this time of day without blocking optimal cloud viewing, so Ino says. Or rather, so Ino says that Shikamaru says, after warning Sakura not to tell him that she told her so. With a mischievous grin, Ino had informed Sakura that Shikamaru would find his outed nerdiness embarrassing. 

To Sakura, it just sounds like he picked a favorite spot, but whatever. She finds him in that very field, napping with his hands propped up behind his head. He’s wearing his Chunin vest, his hair still up in his standard high ponytail, and Sakura wonders how he can relax like that as she hesitantly approaches. Maybe she should come back later, she doesn’t want to bother him. 

“Mm,” his deep voice grumbles, his eyes still closed, “what do you want?”

Sakura flinches. Geez, she knows that he’s a shinobi—and a higher rank than her, at that—but did he have to point out that he could sense her so easily? He could’ve at least opened his eyes. “I, um, I just wanted to come say thank you. And that if there’s another mission in the future, where you need reliable people, I’d like to be on it. That is to say, I’m trying to become more reliable.”

His eyes flicker open at that, head tilting to get a better look at her, “Sit down, it’s weird talking to you like this.”

Sakura quirks a brow. Well, it’s not a no. She walks over, taking a seat beside him, cross-legged in the grass.

Shikamaru shifts his gaze back to the sky, “Another mission, or another mission to save Sasuke?”

“Either one,” Sakura looks up to the sky as well, watching the clouds slowly drift across her field of vision. They’re the soft, wispy clouds—she’d learned the names of them, once, in some middle school science class where she (and Ino) had spent too much time sneaking peeks at Sasuke. “I can’t beat him in a fight—I don’t know if I ever will be able to. But like, one good punch. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Hah,” Shikamaru barks out a laugh. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Oh, and what do I sound like?” Sakura prods, laying back in the grass so that she doesn’t have to crane her neck to look up at the sky. “Enlighten me.”

“Come on, you know what I mean,” Shikamaru grumbles. “You’ve been all about Sasuke since we were all practically in diapers.”

That pricks at something from the preview—the voice announcing that Shikamaru’s liked her since they were children. Sakura feels a slim smile make its way to her lips, “Yeah, well, Sasuke got old.”

“Wh—” That catches Shikamaru off guard, and he sits up, looking down over her, “Seriously?”

“Romantically speaking, yeah,” Sakura shifts her gaze away, intimidated by his own dark, skeptical eyes hanging over her. “I mean, platonically, as a friend and teammate, I wish he didn’t abandon everyone that cares about him to run into the arms of a snake-themed narcissist. Maybe romance died somewhere around the punch to the back of the head, or maybe it’s been a long time coming.”

Shikamaru shifts back, weighing that answer, and he carefully says, “Ino would throw a parade if she heard you say that.”

Yeah Shikamaru, Sakura muses, let’s pretend Ino is the only one who cares about that news. “Good, I like parades as much as the next girl.” Sakura adjusts, getting comfortable in the grass. Sakura makes the executive romantic decision to shift the topic away from her ex-boyfriend, “No wonder you nap out here. The sunshine feels great.” It really does. She can feel the familiar, warm lull of taking a nap on a nice spring day calling her name. 

“Yeah, well, don’t give up my spot to anyone, alright?” Shikamaru says, and Sakura has to stop herself from blurting that Ino had given him up in the first place, but he goes on, “If too many people knew about it, then it would get noisy and annoying. But just you is fine, I guess.” 

Pfft. Cute. He probably thinks he’s being subtle. Sakura opts to tease him a little, “You don’t think I’m noisy and annoying? I’m flattered.”

“Tch,” Shikamaru protests and Sakura can practically sense him getting flustered beside her, “I didn’t say anything like that. All I meant was that you’re one person instead of ten.” 

“Relax,” Sakura stretches, her eyes fluttering closed, “your secret’s safe with me, Shikamaru.” They’re quiet for a long time, long enough for Sakura to start to drift off, comforted by the pleasant weather and the smell of grass around her. 

Just before she’s gone, lulled completely into sleep, she hears a quiet grumble from beside her. “Troublesome woman,” Sakura can hear him shifting as he quietly complains, but she keeps her eyes closed, her breathing shallowing as she drifts off. “What am I supposed to do if you start getting my hopes up, huh?” 

Sakura wakes up, something draped over her face and most of her torso. Her first instinct is to toss it off completely, not liking a mystery object cutting her off from fresh air, until she feels breath fan her forehead. The next thing she recognizes is the prop of her neck—the side of her head ison an arm, and another arm is draped at a respectable position over her waist. With her arms pinned to her chest, and warmth radiating from a body in front of her, the answer becomes obvious: Sakura is cuddled up with Shikamaru. 

She flushes, not sure what to do, and the movement of her momentary panic is enough to raise a groggy Shikamaru.

“Mm,” he mumbles, clearly still half-asleep as he sits up, lifting the object from on top of them and setting it aside. “Sorry,” he stifles a yawn, “that was probably a shock. I thought you wouldn’t want your face to burn.”

Sakura, stunned into silence, sits up, fumbling for some words, “Oh, it’s, um, fine.” Great flirting, Sakura, she chides herself. She glances over to him, seeing the object he’d had over them—his Chunin vest, flipped so the arm holes were the furthest from their faces so the sunlight wouldn’t disturb them as they slept. It’s pretty sweet, if she ignores the potential for suffocation—and thankfully, he must’ve washed it recently, because it didn’t smell like anything at all. 

Shikamaru peeks over to her, and Sakura can’t help but notice the soft flush on his face. He’s propped up on one arm, the other reaching back to sheepishly rub the back of his neck, “Really, I wasn’t trying to be weird.”

For a strategic genius—someone she’d watched formulate an attack strategy within moments of gathering a team, at that—he’s a surprisingly terrible flirt. Sakura runs her hands up to smooth her hair, and she quirks a brow, happy to tease him a little more, “Did you move me to sleep on your arm?”

“Gah,” Shikamaru chokes on his spit, looking sharply away from her, “you—you looked uncomfortable.” 

“So you were watching me nap.”

“No,” Shikamaru flounders, looking back over to her, eyes wide, “No. I happened to notice that you looked uncomfortable, I wasn’t watching.”  

“I’m only teasing you,” Sakura says, stretching. “That was a good nap. It’s been a while since I could relax. Thanks.”

His expression softens, mouth slightly agape like he wants to ask her something. Shikamaru hesitates, his hands curling into fistfuls of grass, “So… were you teasing me then? When you said you were moving on from Sasuke?”

Ah, now they’re getting somewhere. “No, I meant it,” she responds with forced innocence, like she has no clue where this could possibly be going, “Why?”

“Do—“ Shikamaru starts, audibly gulping.

“Hmm?” Sakura shifts forward, tilting her head. He’s really clueless, isn’t he? How cute.

He averts his eyes, hands still digging into fistfuls of grass as his heart shifts to green. “Do you have anyone in mind, then?”

What a roundabout way to ask. She wonders if he was going to ask her out, and then ended up chickening out. Well, if he wants to play it safe, she can play that game too. “Yes,” Sakura responds vaguely, lips curling into a smile, “but I don’t know if he’s into me.” She gives a soft bob of her head, trying to convey her intent with her eyes: you, idiot.

Something must click, but instead of the excitement she expects, he looks dubious. Guarded, like he’s calculating something, trying to figure out if she really is just teasing him.

Right. Sakura had been into Sasuke, and only Sasuke, for so long that hitting on someone she doesn’t know that well is out of place. Sakura brings a hand up to her cheek, averting her eyes and trying to pull off bashful, “Well—That was bold. I don’t know. I think I could be interested in him. It’s a little intimidating, honestly, to put myself out there, but I’d like to see if we get along.” Her hand drifts from her cheek to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she can see Shikamaru focus on the movement out of the corner of her eye.

He flusters, clearly frustrated, “Listen, I’m not one for games or gossip, are you saying…?” Despite his annoyance, his question dies off, and for a few moments Sakura thinks he isn’t going to finish it, “Are you saying it’s me?” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not? You’re smart. Brave. A good leader.” Cheekily, she adds, “Handsome.”

“You—” He turns beet red at that, “Me?”

Sakura supposed there’s at least one benefit to this game: making men blush. Sakura moves like she’s about to get up, hands pressing to the ground to push, “Well, maybe you’re right. Clearly, you aren’t interested, and I shouldn’t have come out here looking for you.”

“Wait,” Shikamaru blanks for a moment, before rushing to grab her wrist—pulling too hard, yanking her into him and collapsing into the ground, “Wait, I’m sorry. I—” He tries to help her sit up.

Sakura chuckles, her gaze meeting his, too close.

“It should be me,” he blurts, and Sakura stills, letting him continue. “Er—I mean, it if was—If you were interested in me, I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t make you regret it.” 

He looks so unsure of himself, Sakura gives in to the sudden urge to pinch his cheek. His eyes widen, and then narrow, clearly embarrassed, but when he opens his mouth to complain, Sakura swoops forward to press a kiss to the spot on his cheek that she’d pinched.

Shikamaru tilts his head toward her, leaning in, like he’d like her to kiss him on the lips instead.

Sakura does not oblige, diverting to brush her lips along his jaw and other cheek, snickering when he tenses up.

“You—!” Shikamaru starts petulantly. “You’re messing with me.”

“A little,” Sakura gives in, hovering so that her nose brushes his. “Though, it’s a little mean of me, since you said you didn’t like games.”

He swallows again, hand moving to cup her cheek—effectively keeping her in place, “If it’s you, it’s not so bad.” Shikamaru still hangs back, like he thinks she’s going to correct him—to tell him that she really was kidding.

She feels like it’s important to let him bridge the gap, so she waits. “Looks like I flustered you.”

He bristles, “Of course not!” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, “I’m a man, aren’t I?” And then he moves, his lips pressing firmly to hers. His hand on her cheek shifts to the back of her head, pulling her into him, and the other rests on her waist. 

Sakura had been expecting a kiss—but she hadn’t been expecting a kiss. Heat rushes to her cheeks as she curls her hands into his shirt. Her lips part, and he obliges, kissing her until her head swims.

“Let me take you out,” he says between kisses, flushed, panting, his lips brushing along her jaw. “A real date, you know? To be honest, I’ve always…” Shikamaru trails off, lost as he pulls her in for another slow, languid kiss.

“You’re surprisingly old fashioned,” Sakura chuckles as the kiss breaks, and she doesn’t think anything of it when he pauses. 

“I’ve always been old fashioned,” Shikamaru protests. He pulls back, and when he looks at her—Sakura can feel it. Shikamaru suspects something’s off. He tilts his head, raising a brow, “I’ve always liked you, but you’ve always liked Sasuke. Is this… just because he isn’t here?”

She can practically see the gears turning in his mind as he contemplates her. Sakura had worried about Naruto finding it believable she’d suddenly lost interest in Sasuke, but Shikamaru knew her too. He’s known her for Sakura’s whole life—the character, that is. The character deeply in love with another man, who’d suddenly shown interest in him. Sakura should’ve known that someone as intelligent as Shikamaru would need a little more finesse. Since he already liked her, she’d assumed he would be an easy route. “No,” Sakura starts, a moment too late to be convincing, “it’s not like that.”

The unspoken question hangs in the air, and Sakura doesn’t have an answer for it: then what’s it like? He looks stricken. A pang of guilt shoots through Sakura. She feels like an asshole.

“Right,” he mumbles, trying to collect himself. “Seven. Can I pick you up at seven?”

He still… Shikamaru still wants to go on a date with her? Christ, she feels worse now. He likes her so much that he’d say yes even if he thought she was using him? “Shikamaru…” Sakura starts, wildly uncomfortable.

“I’m serious, I won’t make you regret it,” he mumbles, averting his eyes, “so don’t—don’t look at me all pitifully like that.” He starts to stand, looking a little dazed. He gathers his discarded vest, slipping it back on. 

“W-Wait,” Sakura starts, rising to her feet. She needs to think fast. There’s nothing she can say to make him feel better about what was quite obvious: Sakura had jumped ship once Sasuke was gone.

Still, he waits to hear what she has to say.

Sakura rocks on her heels, nervous, embarrassed for thinking the route would be so easy as to saunter over and declare she’s interested, “I picked you because I knew I wouldn’t regret it.” Truth be told, she hadn’t picked him at all. It had been a random route, and she was apprehensive about dating someone she knew in the real world. At least their backstories are different—quiet, aloof Shikamaru from the real world didn’t know her all that well, let alone have a crush on her from when they were children. But it’s what she thinks he needs to hear, and she knows that she’s already hurt his feelings. 

He cracks a smile at that. “Seven o’clock. Don’t eat. Casual is fine.”

Shikamaru wasn’t lying; he’s certainly old fashioned. He’s at her home precisely at seven, a small bouquet of tidy red roses in hand that he offers out once he opens the door, and a basket looped over his arm. “These are for you,” Shikamaru starts, clearly nervous, nudging the roses toward her. Sucking in a breath, realizing he forgot, he amends, “You look beautiful.”

Sakura accepts the flowers with a warm smile, “Thank you. They’re lovely.” She sniffs the roses. Ino probably helped him pick these out—or would he have been too embarrassed to ask for help? As far as Sakura knows, that’s the only flower shop in town—Oh! These need water. She steps aside, inviting him in, “Let me get a vase for these and then we can go.”

Shikamaru nods, stepping inside her house. He glances around, observing the layout of her living room and kitchen as Sakura digs for a vase for the flowers. 

She finds one shortly, a thin glass vase that will compliment the cut of the flowers, and she arranged them on her countertop, “So, what’s the plan?” She turns to catch him admiring the pattern of a throw blanket over her couch, and chuckled softly.

He looks up at her, snatching his hand off of the blanket, and it moves with forced casualness to sheepishly rub the back of his neck, “I know a little spot with a nice view.” He lifts his other arm slightly, to emphasize the basket hanging off of it, “I packed dinner. Nothing fancy, but definitely edible. And I thought we could play a few games of Shogi. I’ve gotten pretty good at it, since Asuma-sensei taught me the strategies.”

“Sounds fun,” Sakura responds brightly, adjusting the flowers. “You’ll have to teach me how to play.” Good, so she was dressed decently—Shikamaru said casual, but she picked a sundress anyway: mint green broken up with pale pink blossoms. A formal date is a nice change of pace from most of her other routes. Constant danger is part of the life of a shinobi, Sakura assumes, but hey, she certainly won’t complain about dinner and a view. She looks up, and she’s caught off guard.

His heart is blue again, and his brow is knit together as he glared at her. Carefully, he says, “I’ve seen you play, and win, several times in the Academy. You know how.”

Sakura blanks. “Uh,” she starts, trying to formulate an excuse, “Shika—”

He quickly shifts his hands into a hand sign, muttering, “Release.”

She recognizes that: a genjutsu release. He’s checking, because he realized that this isn’t right. Sakura is too stunned to speak, watching in horror as his heart meter shifts from blue to purple, purple to gray, and he’s on her before she can think of an explanation, his hands gripping her wrists and sending a searing hot surge of chakra through her body. 

“Not a clone or transformation, then,” Shikamaru pins her against the wall, his broad chest pushing into, his face in hers, even as she yells from the pain—the chakra surge he’d sent, to disrupt her chakra flow and reveal her if she was an enemy in disguise, burns like fire in her veins. “Who are you? Where is Sakura?”

“I am Sakura,” she protests, trying to thrash free. “I forgot!” She squeals, a desperate lie, and she bashed her knees into his, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. “I forgot about the game!”

“What was the name of our instructor in the Academy?” He barks into her face, teeth grit as he waits for her answer. It’s a quiz on the Sakura from this world, which means it’s a quiz she’s bound to fail. 

“Uh—” Sakura flounders, looking for a name, any name. She knows that she read this in her character’s history. The first to come to mind is Kakashi—no, he’s her sensei post-Academy. “Hold—Hold on! You’re scaring me!” Any maybe because he’s the romance target, and the consent code compels him to, Shikamaru’s grip loosens and he backs off. 

The glare he’s giving her could melt ice. “Where is she?” He seethes, nose creased, teeth grit, “You’re lying. I knew—I knew there was something wrong with this scenario, and now I’m certain. Who are you? Where is Sakura Haruno?”

But Sakura is too frightened to answer, holding her shaking arms to her chest as she stares at him. Shikamaru’s heart meter is black. 

Chapter Text

Sakura Haruno and the Routes to True Love

Route Four: Shikamaru Nara - Gray Heart

She doesn’t know what to do. Sakura quickly realizes that she’s in above her head, and that she needs help. “S—” Sakura starts to call out, tears blurring her vision. A quick hand sign on Shikamaru’s part—the rat sign, which Sakura recognizes from her studies—renders her immobile. She can’t move, she realizes with horror, and then she recognizes the technique from her time in the Chunin Exams. 

It’s the Nara clan’s Shadow Possession Jutsu, which means she’s not going anywhere. 

Sakura needs Sai. She tries to summon up the strength to call out to him anyway, but the effort burns. When she only manages a whimper, Sakura’s surprised to see Shikamaru flinch. She can feel his chakra—stifling, angry—lessen its hold, and Sakura’s about to call out for Sai when she realizes that Shikamaru is crying.

Rather, despite his fierce glare, his dark eyes are watering.

Sakura gulps, hard—She knows that the scene resets if she dies. Is anything different if the romance target is the one who kills her? Still, she feels guilty—Shikamaru has essentially found out an imposter is here, in place of someone he loves. 

“Who are you?” He says again, voice wavering.

And maybe it’s the guilt, or the pained expression on his face, or the fact that she knows so little about the minor details of the woman he love’s life that Shikamaru would probably figure her out again if she restarts the route—but what comes out of her mouth is the truth. “I’m really Sakura Haruno. Just not this Sakura Haruno.”

That catches him off guard, shock briefly flickering across his face before he resumes his glare. “Explain.” 

“I’m from—” The real world? How would she explain this in a way that makes sense? “Another world, and I was sent to this one. In my world, there’s no chakra, or shinobi, and I have to…” There’s a difference between telling someone they’re from another world, and that they’re a character in a video game, let alone a romance candidate in that game. And what happens if she tells him?

“You have to what?” Shikamaru snaps, impatient, raising his arms to a fighting stance. Sakura, trapped in his jutsu, makes the same movement. 

She calculates the odds of lying, of underplaying the romantic aspect of the game—of her role here. Shino believed here, in the real world, where something like her situation sounds ridiculous. At least there’s a magic system here—even if they call it chakra. Is her story really so unbelievable? “I have to keep appearing in… different scenarios, in order to stop appearing here,” she mumbles softly. If Gaara’s in Konoha right now, there’s always the chance he’ll glitch out again. Even if she lied to Shikamaru, she could easily be discovered. Was the situation unsalvageable? Could she recover her progress to minimize her time in this route with Gaara? “This is—One night, I was in my room, and I found this app on my phone—” Right, no cell phones, no apps, “Basically, I accidentally made a magic agreement, and when I fall asleep there, I wake up here. Inside, uh, this world’s Sakura Haruno.”

Shikamaru is quiet for a few moments, considering. “Let’s say I believe you,” he finally starts. “Does she go to your body then?”

Of course, he’s worried about her. “I don’t think so,” Sakura says vaguely. Nothing probably happens to this world’s Sakura when she’s here, because none of them exist. “My world is very different, so people would notice if I started acting like a shinobi. I assume that when I’m here, her personality is just dormant and waiting for me to finish the route, but there’s no way for me to know. Trust me, as much as you want your Sakura to be here, I want to be home. This place is full of terrible, life-threatening situations and more exercise than I care to do.”

His stance falters, the weight of this revelation heavy. “So that means everything in the field…” Shikamaru shakes his head, “How long have you been here?”

She’s reminded of the guilt she felt during her first romance—during all of them, really, the revelation of their lives without her here, knowing that none of it was real for her and it was vividly real for them. “I’ve been appearing in this world for a little over a month, in my time, and I appear in various places on your timeline. This time—here, with you—I’ve been here since Sasuke left. I woke up outside, and then he knocked me out.”

It answered the question he didn’t want to ask. Sakura’s interest in him hadn’t been her own, not who he considers the real one. Sakura can see the hurt plainly on his face, his brows knit together, dropping his stance completely. He believes her—but only because gaining his Sakura Haruno’s romantic interest is unbelievable to him. “I should’ve known better,” Shikamaru mutters bitterly. 

“I didn’t know it was going to hurt your feelings,” Sakura starts, flustered. She can feel his jutsu weakening, her control returning to her limbs, and she cradles her arms to her chest. “You—You seem like a good person.”

“But why would you…?” Shikamaru trails off, running a hand over his face, letting out a groan.

It’s obvious: ‘Why would you kiss me?’ It’s a more than fair question. To have assumed no one in the game would notice that she is an outsider was naive of her. “It’s part of how I stop appearing here,” Sakura answers hoarsely. “The—In the beginning, before I’m dropped into a spot on the timeline, I’m given the name of someone, and I have to make that person tell me they love me. After that, I get to move on.”

“I love you.” The malice in his voice makes it sting. 

Sakura swallows before responding, her throat dry. “It has to be genuine.” She averts her eyes, “I’m not—I’m not sure I should be telling you all this—or if something bad will happen because I told you anything at all. But I have to get out of this world, and there are people I want to protect while doing so.”

“What people? Why is it up to you to protect them?”

“Well, I’ve been in three different timelines so far, before yours,” Sakura says carefully, “but I don’t want to see anyone hurt. Including you. So I have to navigate carefully.”

Shikamaru chuckles darkly, his jaw shifting to the side, “Isn’t it a little late for that?”

Sakura winces. Oof. “It gets worse. One of them keeps remembering his timeline. It messes with the fabric of whatever curse, or magic, or chakra, or whatever is bringing me back here—and I’ve been warned that if I am not treading carefully, those people could disappear from this world forever.”

“Warned by who?” That piques his interest. “If this is something being done to you, then who is the one doing it?”

“I don’t really know,” she shakes her head. “I looked into it, but I haven’t found any useful information. There’s a game guide to help me through the game, but I don’t even know if anyone is responsible for it, or if it’s just magic. Right now, I think my best course of action is to complete all the routes, so I can stop coming here.” 

Shikamaru takes a step back, scoffing, “You aren’t going to complete this one, so you’d better think of an alternative.”

She’d already considered it: resetting his route. The problem is, she doesn’t know how to ensure that he won’t realize it’s her instead of the Sakura he expects. Maybe she needs to play the long game; Sakura can’t look like she’s over Sasuke so quickly, next time. “I can restart,” Sakura tries to sound reassuring. “Next time, I’ll be more careful.” 

Shikamaru brandishes a kunai Sakura hadn’t suspected he was hiding—Maybe it was foolish of her to be unarmed on a date, the shinobi world is fraught with sudden danger. The metal catches the light, glistening, and he holds it out toward her. “Don’t—” Shikamaru’s eyes narrow, teeth grit at her once more, “Don’t you dare.”

Sakura feels an obligation to discuss it with him, even if it’s stupid, even if it’s not real. It’s real to him. “The way I understand it, when I leave a timeline, a version of the real Sakura takes my place. There’s supposed to be a second act that I come back to. So, if you don’t remember me—If you don’t remember figuring me out, that is—then you really get to end up with her. And you’ll be none the wiser. It would be a win-win.”

Shikamaru’s fist clenches around the kunai, knuckles white, “It would be a lie. Even then, Sakura wouldn’t be with me because she wanted to be with me. She’d be with me because you put her there.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Sakura groans. “The way I see it, I’m doing her a favor. In my world, the whole ‘loving Sasuke’ arc is just as frustrating.”

Shikamaru bristles, “You don’t know that. You can’t know that, if you take it away from her.”

“I need—” Sakura presses a hand to her temple, annoyed, “I need to beat all the routes, okay? Sasuke is my ex-boyfriend in the real world, and I can’t keep coming back here. It’s bad enough that I’ll have to have a route with him, but like, this place—He’s at the center of it, of this character. I can’t be the girl obsessed with him forever, and I can’t get plopped into that role every night for the rest of my life.” 

He must notice that Sakura’s relatively unbothered by the weapon, and he slowly lowers it, perplexed, “Aren’t you frightened that I’ll kill you?” 

“No,” Sakura scoffs. “Not really. I mean, I’m sure it will hurt, and I don’t prefer it, but everything resets. It’ll probably reset to right before you figure out I’m not real. Well, not real to you. Or, since you’re the love interest, maybe to the beginning, so I can un-fuck everything up.”

His gaze levels with her, fierce, full of spite—but he lowers his weapon. It would seem Shikamaru does not subscribe to ‘ignorance is bliss.’ “Don’t reset the route,” he says again, warily.

“That’s the only way you’ll get your Sakura back, even if it’s different than whoever she was supposed to be. I don’t have a choice about appearing here, eventually, even if I reset it or pick a different one for now.” And she’s never seen a black heart meter before, she has no idea what that means. She might have to.

“If you restart, everything I know—me, in essence—disappears. I would be an idiot, strung along. Your pawn. If you want to protect me, like you said, you can’t possibly want that for me, now that I know the truth.”

It’s a good argument, and it gnaws at her conscience. Is that what the others would think of her? She certainly wondered how hurt they would be to find out the truth—but even still, Gaara, Deidara, and Zabuza gained a love interest when she appeared in their route. Shikamaru feels, and rightly so, like he’s lost his. “So, theoretically, let’s say I don’t restart the route—”

“It’s not theoretical,” Shikamaru protests. “This is my life you’re dangling over me.”

Sakura bites her lip. Right. What must she look like, to him? “I’m not trying to dangle anything over you. Seriously. But what other options do I have?”

Shikamaru considers this, his face relaxing. “I need all of the information. You aren’t here to do anything to harm the village?” 

“No,” Sakura shakes her head. “This place doesn’t exist in my world. It’s romance based, the magic or whatever that keeps bringing me back here. But I don’t know what happens if I tell you. I’ve never told any of the others. I have a mystic guide that appears, and he usually warns me about not doing dumb shit like this when I call him.”

“And why didn’t you call him?”

Sakura opens her mouth, about to respond bluntly, but she hesitates—She doesn’t have a good answer. Logically, she’s better off rerolling the dice. That’s probably still true. She could tread carefully and learn how to play Shogi. She could restart again and again, even if he kept realizing that she’s an imposter. But Sakura thinks of his face, and feels guilty. How could she risk putting him through that again and again? It’s a different kind of suffering than Gaara coming to—remembering their past together in a reality where it hadn’t happened. Like positive feelings, how can she know that those negative feelings wouldn’t carry over? Sakura keeps circling back to the hurt on Shikamaru’s face. “I just…” She fumbles, not sure how to explain herself, “If I called him, then he probably would have told me to restart, and you looked so hurt…”

“So you aren’t going to?”

“Call him?” Sakura tilts her head, uneasy, “He’ll probably appear when our interaction ends. He doesn’t really interrupt unless he’s called.”

“I meant restart.”

“Well…” Sakura is still unsure. Considering the situation, it certainly seems like a dark thing to do to him—considering he’d specifically asked her not to. But how else could she possibly beat the route? What’s she supposed to do with a black heart? “I don’t know. Like I said, I want to stop appearing here, but I’m not necessarily in a rush out. I can weigh my options.”

Shikamaru muses, considering her options for her, “Do you choose the targets and when you appear?”

“I could choose the route, but I haven’t,” Sakura shrugs. “I know some of you—the versions of you that exist in my world, so I’ve been letting the chips fall where they may. I don’t get to choose the ‘when.’ I just wake up the next night wherever the route begins.”

Shikamaru openly gapes at her, tone critical, “You’ve been dating guys at random? Not exactly a strategic move. Downright dangerous, in this world. Well, who did you get so far?”

Sakura feels a little sheepish, listing them out like game achievements: “Gaara from the Sand Village, Deidara from Iwa—Well, Deidara from the Akatsuki, formerly from Iwa, and Zabuza Momochi. If any of those names ring a bell.”

“And then me,” Shikamaru mumbles quietly, lost in thought. 

“And then you.”

“Wait a minute,” Shikamaru brings a hand up to his chin. “Gaara dates people? He doesn’t… strike me as the type.”

A touch offended on Gaara’s behalf, Sakura haughtily replies, “Well, he sure seemed like the type to me.”

Shikamaru looks hesitant, but he leans against the wall, “Alright, tell me everything.” 

And so she does. Sakura is already down the rabbit hole—and besides, it’s refreshing to explain this to someone between Sai, who knows the events, and Shino, to whom this must all sound like a fantasy story. Someone who actually knew the cast of characters. 

She describes her whirlwind Chunin Exam romance with Gaara, who foiled Orochimaru’s plot at war and saved the Third Hokage, at least in his route. Sakura describes her fears during the exams and how Shikamaru’s team had come to their aid—of course, that part really happened in the main timeline, so Shikamaru’s stern face quirks in a wisp of a smile at the memory.

And then she describes Deidara, who took her from an Akatsuki jail cell and ultimately decided to escape with her. They faced perils along the way, including the surprise attack that left her injured, Gaara’s recognition of her, and the battle with the other Akatsuki members that ultimately forced their separation. 

And then there’s tragic Zabuza, dead already in this timeline, and how things could have gone differently.

By the end, Shikamaru is peering at her critically. “So what you’re telling me,” he grumbles, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his head, “is that something terrible is going to happen. Man, what a drag.” 

Sakura opens her mouth to protest, but then she considers. “Well yeah,” she muses, “when you put it that way, probably.” She glances around, as though for some imaginary danger, before her head snaps back to face him, “Wait a minute, maybe Sasuke was the terrible thing. He knocked me out and your mission went to shit.”

“You said that’s the point where you entered this route,” Shikamaru points out. “It’s pretty unlikely that the action happened right at the beginning. Seriously, did you think you were going to relax the whole time when all the others have been dramatic?”

Knowing that he’s right, Sakura grumbles, “You’re all the drama I need.” She runs a hand through her hair, brow knit in her annoyance—Is he right? Did the routes have to be traumatic? “Sai says that the game’s a romance, so I thought they can’t all be—”

“Are you out of your mind?”

Sakura blinks, processing the guide’s appearance in front of her. He’s normally pretty good at hiding his emotions—but this time, Sai’s clearly furious, his fists clenched, his nose scrunched, his brow knit at her. Ah, duh, Sakura realizes. She’d said his name.

“How could you possibly think that was a good idea?” Sai grumbles, his shoulders square. “Are you trying to break the game?”

“No,” Sakura shakes her head, defensive—and that defensiveness sparks annoyance in her. She raises her voice, hands finding her hips, “It was a decision I came to when presented with a genius love interest that figured out I was an impostor after a tiny comment.”

“Once you’re awake, you need to restart the route in the app,” Sai eyes Shikamaru, standing still as they have their conversation. Shikamaru blinks languidly, unaware and unbothered as Sai and Sakura discuss his fate. 

It makes Sakura uncomfortable. She shifts on her feet, the flicker of annoyance fading to uncertainty. “But—” Sakura says, pausing, teeth tugging at the inside of her cheek as she considers, “But he asked me not to.”

Sai stares at her blankly for a moment. “Sakura,” Sai says, voice stern, “he’s not real.”

“I know,” Sakura snips and, deeply frustrated, she presses her hand briefly to her temple, “I know that!” She groans, both hands swinging down sharply by her side, “You didn’t see the way he looked at me though, like I’m an alien body-snatcher who killed the real Sakura.” 

“You are the real Sakura.”

“Again, I know. But like, reality is relative, right? That’s the Sakura that he’s known for all these years. That’s the Sakura he went to school with, became a shinobi with, fell in love with—”

Sai shakes his head, “She isn’t real. None of that time together is real. You are the only thing real about this place. Shikamaru’s love for Sakura Haruno is a trope storyline written into the canon story, and that’s all. There are all sorts of tropes embedded into the game, Sakura, you can’t take them all so personally because one person noticed a discrepancy.”

Sakura feels sheepish at that—maybe a little stupid. She already knew the others didn’t have an original Sakura to really miss. Still, his expression nags at her. “If it’s so impersonal, then why did his heart turn black?”

It’s a fair question, and from the way Sai shifts into his usual nonchalance, Sakura suspects he doesn’t have an answer. “It indicates an end point in the core programming, a romantic fault impossible to come back from,” Sai says. “You must restart the route, in order to begin at a gray heart and progress.” 

Sakura’s heart sinks. So, she has no choice, if she wants to move forward. She looks over at Shikamaru, mindlessly waiting for her to resume play. It makes sense; there must be some things so terrible that, if she did them to the target characters, they could never possibly love her. It is just a game, after all. “Alright,” Sakura steels herself, trying to focus on the game, “so what does this mean for our friendship points?”

“Nothing good,” Sai answers dryly.

Sakura sighs, wrapping her arms around herself, “And everything that I told him?” 

“I’m not sure,” Sai admits. “Finding out something like this, for a normal person, would be devastating. But the code is meant to adapt and respond to you. The repercussions could be as minimal as the friendship points, or as problematic as Gaara’s glitch. Hopefully, restarting the route eradicates that interaction from the system, but I cannot emphasize enough how careless you’re being when I explicitly warned you to be careful. I’m trying to keep this game together.” 

Sakura shrivels under his dark glare. “Alright,” she mumbles, averting her eyes, “geez.” It’s not like she isn’t trying to get through the game. Isn’t he the one who told her this is supposed to be fun? It’s not fun at all. It’s been some slowburn torture. Her eyes water, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. She wishes that she could wake up on command. She wishes that she never opened that stupid fucking app in the first place.

There’s no indication from Sai that he’s leaving her, but between blinks he’s gone. The only indication Sakura, busy looking at the floor, has that the fame resumed is Shikamaru moving forward to tap her elbow. 

“Hey,” Shikamaru grumbles warily, “you’re the one who said if you die nothing happens to you, you restart. What’re you crying for, hmm?”

Sakura looks up at him, and he’s looking sharply to the side—lie he doesn’t want to look directly at her, but still, he’s acknowledging that she’s crying. She sniffles sharply. “Huh?”

He narrows his eyes, glare fixed on nothing. “Whatever trouble is coming. It’s going to be fine. You’re worried, right?” He rolls his shoulders back, haughtily adding, “Well, you’re a woman after all, so I guess it can’t be helped.”

“Wh—” Sakura balks, automatically swinging her hand to swat at his shoulder, “What is wrong with you?!” 

Shikamaru winces, rubbing at the spot she’d whacked, “Geez.”

“I’m not worried because I’m a woman,” Sakura protests, pointer finger poking into his chest. “You are such an ass.”

“There,” Shikamaru finally looks at her, cracking his first real smile since his heart meter had turned black. It’s more of a smirk, but it’s a relief—Sakura hates it when people are mad at her, especially people that she knows. “Troublesome. You know, it’s almost like you’re the one who found out they’re the duped idiot.”

Is he… trying to make her feel better? Does he consider pissing her off better? “I was upset because I was talking to the guide.” Sakura’s anger falters with her somber tone. She had to reset the route, there’s no point in being secretive now.

Shikamaru’s smile fades, and he glances sharply around, “Right now?”

“When he appears, time sort of… freezes, but that’s not the best way to explain it. Everybody else is passive, like they’re not paying attention,” Sakura gestures to the room, empty besides the pair of them, “He’s gone now, obviously.” Now that she thinks about it, it’s a little like an animatronic ride, waiting for her or the code to prompt it along. A Sim waiting for instruction. Creepy. 

Shikamaru’s smart enough to sense a problem. “And me knowing what you’re doing here, I assume your guide doesn’t like it.”

“Well, yeah. He’s working hard to prevent other glitches.”

Shikamaru looks at her with such intensity that, when the words fall from his lips, Sakura briefly wonders whether or not he can read minds, “Let me guess: he told you that your odds are best if you restart the route.”

Sakura fidgets, uncomfortable. “He straight up told me it’s the only way, actually.”

Shikamaru’s fists jerk closed, balling up at his side, “There has to be another way. Whatever jutsu is bringing you here, there has to be something that can be done to break its hold.”

Her mood brightens. A jutsu—A breakable jutsu? Of course, she knows that the game’s magic system isn’t real, but a back-door exit in the code hidden inside the magic system? This is an app, after all. It’s totally possible. More than possible, Sakura would dare to say it’s likely. “You’d help me do that?”

“Of course,” Shikamaru says, and Sakura’s momentarily touched, before he clarifies, “We can definitely switch you two back.” 

Right, Sakura nods slowly, considering. He wants his version of Sakura back. “Is there really a jutsu that can do something like that?”

To Shikamaru’s credit, his confidence doesn’t falter, “There has to be.” And she supposes he’s not wrong. In this world, jutsu can perform all kinds of miracles, if you can wield the right one. She’s certainly seen some crazy shit in her time here.

“Alright,” Sakura rocks on her heels. It’s at least worth investigating. When else would she have someone with a brain like Shikamaru’s at her disposal, aware of her situation and motivated to help her? “You’ve got yourself a deal.” It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Promise not to restart until we’ve exhausted our options.”

“I promise.” Sakura doesn’t like making promises that she isn’t sure about keeping, but Shikamaru isn’t being unfair. He hadn’t asked her to promise no matter what. 

“And you have to tell me if your guide talks to you, and whenever you return from your world. We’ll need code phrases, so you can talk about it around others—your guide is listening, but he doesn’t control your actions, right?”

Well, there’s the exception of mini-games, but those mostly surface when she’s too far out of her element. “As far as I’m aware,” Sakura says, “except to help me navigate something too difficult for me. Like I said, I don’t exactly have prior shinobi experience.” 

Shikamaru huffs, grabbing her by the wrist and tugging her toward the door—basket and floral arrangement forgotten. “The research library is still open for public use—let’s get going. There has to be something on your condition.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a ‘condition.’” Sakura complains, allowing herself to be dragged along and closing the door behind her, “More like a circumstance.” 

She can’t see it, but she can practically sense Shikamaru rolling his eyes at her. “So, if the guide talks to you, you’re going to bring up cucumbers, and if you’ve been between your world and this world, you’re going to bring up peaches. Easy, right? You got that?”

“Why peaches and cucumbers?”

“Because there’s not necessarily a reason to bring up those ingredients, but it’s not terribly unnatural to bring food up in a conversation.”

Sure, Sakura could bring up some peach tea or cucumber sandwich, there’s not some complicated phrase to it that they’d each have to remember and try to weave in around other people. “That sounds fine to me.”

The research library is massive, but an unfortunate few of her peers bothered to use it. Sakura noticed that most of the shinobi are the type to learn through trial and error. Naruto, and even Sasuke, aren’t exactly booksmart. She’d spent time here, specifically to learn about medical ninjutsu—but there’s a plethora of resources available. 

“You don’t really strike me as the studying type,” Sakura muses as Shikamaru leads her through winding bookshelves. Her foot catches on the carpet—Shikamaru doesn’t say anything, or ask her if she’s alright, but Sakura notices that he slows down.

“Perceptive of you,” Shikamaru grumbles, settling in front of a section on known genjutsu and scanning the volumes for any involving reality. “Then, you should know how serious I am.”

Sakura grabs a tome on the basics of genjutsu and props herself against a wall, cracking it open to check out the table of contents. Well, even if she does end up restarting the route, at least her time here isn’t a waste. The more she learns, the stronger she is. Briefly, she laments skipping dinner—they were supposed to be going on a date, after all—but she thinks he dislikes her too much to bring it up now, so she settles in and starts to read.

… 

Unfortunately for Sakura, there’s more studying waiting for her in the real world/ She’d initially come to the library to be alone, tucking herself away at a corner table and prepping her notes—Sakura even bought an energy drink to get her through the day. She has class later—Sakura can’t afford to be unproductive.

Besides, it’s a good distraction from the temptation to start Shikamaru’s route over. She promised to wait, but Sai’s warning nags at her mind. Sai’s the one who understands the most about what’s going on. If he’s worried about the black heart, she should heed his advice. Still, a little longer… Sakura promised, after all. Even if Shikamaru doesn’t know the whole truth, even if it’s a game, she can give him a little more time, can’t she? At least she can throw herself into her studies. 

Still, the words on the page might as well be gibberish to Sakura. With her mind spread so thin, focusing on abstract anatomical terms might as well be rocket science. She groans, head flopping onto the table.

“You shouldn’t be drinking that garbage,” a deep, quiet voice surprises her.

Sakura shoots up in her seat, startled, to see Itachi Uchiha furrowing his brow at her, a half-eaten breakfast bagel from the cafe in his hand and his backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Let me guess,” he drawls, looking unimpressed, “you didn’t eat breakfast either.”

“Oh, come on, ‘Tachi,” Sakura grumbles, cheek resting in her palm, annoyed that he knows her so well, “Seriously, you saw me and came over to lecture me? Do you ever turn off ‘Big Brother’ mode?” She hadn’t meant it as an insult, only to tease, and is surprised when he averts his eyes—Did she upset him?

“You’re right,” he mumbles solemnly. He stays still—Sakura’s known him long enough to know that even though she’d chastised him, he’s hoping for an invitation to sit down.

Sakura immediately feels guilty. Right, Itachi’s fighting with his actual younger brother. Doting on the pair of them had practically been his favorite hobby. Despite his two actual parents, Itachi is the worrywart—agonizing over every scraped knee, taking over every middle school bake sale, never missing a game or award ceremony. A third, devoted parent, so to speak, for both Sasuke and Sakura. “I’m just kidding,” Sakura pats the table. “Without you, I’d have been a total mess by high school.”

Itachi eyes her skeptically. Still, he accepts the invitation, taking a seat and setting his bag on the floor. “That’s not true.”

Now it’s Sakura’s turn to look at him skeptically, though she’s less subtle about it. Itachi’s always put her on a pedestal, Sasuke was always the one to call her on her shit.

“Do you have a test coming up?” Itachi changes the subject, looking over her books sprawled across the table.

“Yes, and for the life of me, I can’t remember any of this vocabulary.”

Itachi makes a soft hum, “You don’t appear to be sleeping well.”

Yes, well, waking up in a romance game bent on torturing her every night does that to a woman. “Hah,” Sakura forces out a laugh, “If you think I look like shit, you can just say so. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

Itachi immediately ruffles, his shoulders stiffening, “Sakura Haruno, you’re incapable of it.” He shifts to pull a water bottle from his bag, handing it to her pointedly, “It’s actually rather off putting when—Drink this, you’re probably dehydrated.”

Sakura grabs the bottle with a huff, taking a large swig of water. There’s that pedestal again.

“—When I have to hear from Shisui that you’re going on dates alone, in sketchy neighborhoods, all dolled up, with little Hyuuga boys who aren’t good enough for you.”

Sakura coughs, sucking water down the wrong pipe and trying to gather herself with some dignity. She flushes beet red, and her tone is more accusatory than she means it to be as she faces him, “Shisui told you?” 

Itachi’s lips twitch in a barely concealed smile. He chuckles, teasing her, “Oh, was it supposed to be a secret? I’m sorry for embarrassing you.”

“It’s not a secret!” Clearly embarrassed, she adds, “And I’m not embarrassed!” 

Playfully chiding her, he taps her forehead, “Hmm? Sakura, you shouldn’t be so loud in the library.” He holds up the rest of his bagel, “Here, have something to eat. How can you study on an empty stomach?”

Sakura makes a low noise of ire, but she snatches the bagel with a soft, “Hmph!” It’s easy to fall into old habits with him—to let him mother hen her. Itachi has always been too considerate with others.

A throat pointedly clears, and both heads turn to see Izumi looking at them—too far to hear the details of their conversation, but close enough to make herself known. She’s pretty, there’s no doubt about it, sleep dark hair piled into a neat bun, but Sakura’s never seen her angry, and there’s something fierce to be said about her dark eyes pointed in a glare.

“Sheesh,” Sakura winces away, looking at Itachi. “That’s a lot of malice radiating from someone who cheated on you.”

But Itachi looks pale as a sheet, the formerly friendly expression on his face forced neutral with his discomfort. 

The look on his face makes Sakura feel protective. She’d always liked Izumi, who had been nothing but friendly to Sakura for the time she’s known her. Hell, she thought Itachi and Izumi would get married—and that Sakura would marry Sasuke—so eventually, they’d be sisters by marriage. “Hey,” Sakura says sternly to Itachi, “you shouldn’t be the one making that face.”

Izumi doesn’t work up the nerve to say anything, and doesn’t linger long, gripping the straps of her bag tightly before she strides off with her nose held high. 

“I wish that I could rewind time,” Itachi comments. “I want everyone to be happy again.”

Sakura’s thrown off at that. “Well,” she takes a bite of the bagel, considering as she chews, “I don’t think I’d go back.” Itachi frowns, and Sakura rushes to explain before Itachi can chime in, “It’s just… I miss us all, as a unit, for sure. But I’ve made new friends, you know? I don’t think I would trade that either. If I was going to go back—to restart—it would be to just stay friends with Sasuke in the first place. No heartbreak, no problems. But for what it’s worth, everyone—even Izumi, even Sasuke… We’ll all be happy again.”

Itachi stares at her for a moment before he chuckles, “Since when are you the wise one? Please say something foolhardy to restore the balance.”

“Eh?” Sakura grumbles, leaning back in her chair, “What a fancy way to call me an idiot.”

“Hmm?” Itachi slips into the old comfort zone of teasing her, pretending he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, “I’m pretty sure I called you wise. Eat, I thought you needed to study.”

Sakura huffs, taking another bite before handing the bagel back over, “It’s your food—You’re always like this with everyone. Be a little more selfish, or something.” 

Itachi tuts at her, but he takes the bagel back and finishes it off. “It’s not everyone.” He stands, slinging his bag back over his shoulder and grabbing her energy drink instead of his water, “I’m stealing this, in the name of selfishness. And don’t think you’ve gotten out of talking about that boy.”

Sakura’s brow twitches in annoyance. Still, it’s kind of nice to have him back—his old personality, before both of their respective breakups had put a wrench in everything. “What, do you and Shisui get together and gossip about me in your little overprotective mother hen gang?”

“Yes,” he takes a swig of her energy drink, mischief in his eyes. He turns sharply on his heel, striding off before she can scold him for stealing her drink.

Sakura eyes his abandoned bottle of water. At least he seems to be doing better. It was hard to see him heartbroken. She glances at the time—Shit, she really needs to study.