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Chapter Text

Zero  

"Sakura." 

She whirled around, searching for the source of the anxious voice that had appeared behind her. She had been packing up the last of her backpack, filled to the brim with all kinds of antidotes, bandages, ointments, and soldier pills. 

A lot of soldier pills. She'd need them.

Sky-blue eyes gazed back at her. 

She raised her eyebrows. "No suffix?" It was strange for his voice to be this meek and nervous, and even stranger of him to forget the 'chan' at the end of her name—something that had been ever-present since childhood.

"Oh. Did I–Did I forget it?" His voice pitched higher towards the end, as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Huh. Guess even someone like you gets nervous."

"I'm not nervous, 'ttebayo!"

"Whatever you say, Naruto." she got up, fastening her green Jōnin-west. "Why are you here? Things must be hectic for you, too." 

"I just–... came to say goodbye, you know." he started slowly, voice unsure and anxious and–

"Since–Since, you know, we will be on different fronts. It's disappointing that I won't see you during the entire thing— 'thing', as in the war, but, you know, it could end really fast, 'ttebayo. Like, maybe only a few days if we beat Madara quickly, and then we can go home and pick Sasuke up along the way, because he seriously fucked up during the conference—But, like, 'cuz you're at the medical tents and battling death and injuries while I fight to keep the people away from there in the first place, we're working together—" 

–and suddenly the words were coming out of his mouth at rapid speed, even stumbling over them at times. 

"–and of course, I will try to help everyone, but it's a lotta people, you know?... Like, Like—... eighty-thousand." Naruto's voice turned into a whisper saying the last bit, as if he didn't dare to yell the number in his normal, loud voice. "That's so many people. Not that I've ever seen them all in one place, or something, so I can't even know the actual scale, but even then I know it's many people,  but– but–"

He took a deep breath "... so many will die." 

"And–" his breath hitched. "And they're all fighting and dying because of me."

What?

"Huh?" Sakura couldn't believe what she was hearing. 

Naruto scrambled for words. "If I–... Uh... This war started because Madara and Akatsuki are collecting the Bijū, right? And I'm a Jinchūriki. Madara wants me. He even–... Uhm... shit ... So, you know, if I had just... gone with him, if I just let Madara extract the Kyūbi from me, if they had just given up on me–"

"Hold on. Naruto–" 

"–maybe this war wouldn't have started. Maybe nobody would have to say farewell to their families now. Maybe no one would have to– die." 

"Naruto." she was full-on glaring at him now. And she really wanted to throw a punch at this whole ordeal and be done with it. Instead, she put a hand on Naruto's shoulder. "Listen to me." 

He nodded, slowly. His eyes held an ocean of guilt. Unusual. Perhaps he had been hiding this side of him all along.

"This war is not your fault." she said, emphasizing each word.

"But if I had gone with him–" 

"Madara wasn't just demanding you. Shishō told me. He was telling them to hand over the Hachibi, too." 

"But Sakura!– ...chan. We don't know for sure, right? What if he would've been satisfied with just me? What if he hadn't declared war then?"

"And what if he wasn't satisfied?" she shot back. "What if he had planned to declare war from the beginning? What if we had given you up for nothing? Just because he asked for you, doesn't mean the outcome could've been changed."

"But that's the point, Sakura! He asked. That has to mean something, right? He asked, so there was a chance to–" 

"Shut up." 

And he did. 

"Don't ever talk about this again. I'm not hearing anymore of your stupid, self-deprecating thoughts. Go back to the annoying idiot Naruto, not this guilty, way too self-aware Naruto. If even your ever-lasting optimism has run out now, we'll be doomed in this war for sure." 

Naruto blinked. "You think so?" 

She slapped the back of his head. "Of course not, airhead! As if I would let us lose the war against some century-old gramps!" 

"Neither will I!" 

"Yeah!" At least Naruto seemed a bit more relaxed now. "Now off you go. I'm expected to leave soon." 

She turned to her backpack, shouldering it, before making her way to the door. 

Just before she left, Naruto yelled after her,

"Stay safe, Sakura-chan!"

She held up her hand in a thumbs-up. "Don't die on me, Naruto!" 

One  

"Hey, Sasuke-kun?" she asked, holding up her hand, glowing in an ethereal green.

Dark eyes glared back at her, staring into her very soul. 

"Shut up." His face was stuck in a permanent scowl, making the meaning of his words ever clearer. But she had learnt to deal with his behavior long ago. 

"Why did you do it?" 

"What?" She could almost hear the 'There's so much I did, how could I know which one you mean?'. 

She cleared her throat. "Fight Naruto, I mean. I thought you two reconciled. I thought we all—as Team 7—reconciled." 

His scowl deepened. "I never said that. We're just working together because of the circumstances." 

"Oh." She didn't say more than that, focusing on closing up the gaping wound that had almost severed Sasuke's arm. Were it not for her last-second interference, deflecting the attacks of the two of them in an imitation of what Kakashi had done all those years ago, it may have been gone entirely.

Surprisingly, Sasuke was the one to break the silence. 

"We're still a team." 

The glow of her hands threatened to flicker, only prevented by her mastery of Iryōninjutsu. 

"We work together well. Fight together well." he continued.

It was true. They worked like a well-oiled machine on the battlefield, predicting the others' movements and thoughts in a way only people with ties like them could do.

Maybe the war had helped with that.

She would've never known about this without it. Sasuke would've remained a missing-nin, hunted down by all the Hidden Villages for attempted assassination of the Kage.

Maybe Sasuke would've been killed if this war hadn't started, hadn't gone on for over a year, now.

She hummed and continued patching up Sasuke. Her first love, her biggest mistake, her deepest regret, her weakness, her teammate, her comrade, her—

But right now, he was just her patient.

Two

"Shishō." she gasped, not comprehending the words coming out of the blonde woman's mouth. "What do you mean by that?"

Amber eyes twinkled, looking back at her, with something akin to amusement at her shocked expression.

Tsunade just nodded. "Just that. I'm stepping down." 

"As Hokage?" 

"What else, girl?" She ruffled up her hair, not tied up in a ponytail for once.

"But Shishō! Why so suddenly? When we're still at war and nobody can attend the ceremony when the next Hokage is appointed and– And do you even have someone to take up the hat?" 

It couldn't be Naruto. He was still too young and naive. He wasn't ready yet.

"Kakashi." 

"Kakashi-sensei?"

"They considered him once, after Pein. It's a good choice, I agree."

"But why now? You're still young!"

"Don't flatter me, Sakura." Tsunade silently rose from her seat in the tent, walking up to her. Then, as if talking about a mundane fact of daily life,

"And I don't have much time left." 

It was a hard punch to the gut. Unexpected and painful. She didn't even have the chance to look surprised, leaving her to blankly stare at her mentor. 

"What?" 

Suddenly, Tsunade's eyes weren't holding that humorous look anymore, and all at once, nothing but endless exhaustion remained. 

"Sakura, my prized apprentice, you must know this too." Her voice was steady, not showing even a glimpse of the guilt-tinted look in her eyes. 

Tsunade's next words hit her with an ice-cold coolness that not even the waters in the Land of Frost had.

"The Byakugō shortens one's lifespan." 

She blinked, staring at her master's face in horror. 

"I used to try not to use it too much, because the drain is so rapid. But the war has bound my hands. I have the seal activated more times than I don't. And I'm starting to feel the effect.

"I've been for a while, actually." 

It was all things she knew. Things she had – once upon a time – studied, and read with fascination, understanding the workings and aftereffects of the technique.

It had never felt real.

She had never thought it could matter.

She had never thought of war.

Tsunade sighed, her voice carrying a wave of acceptance. She had long come to terms with it, it seemed. "I've been alive for too long, anyway. I outlived my lover and now all of my teammates. It's about time for me to join them and Sarutobi-sensei." 

She violently shook her head. "No! You can't die, Tsunade-shishō!" Tears were filling her vision, the woman in front of her turning into a blob of green and yellow. "You– We still have to open that clinic for people with Kekkei Genkai! Don't you remember? We wanted to create a safe environment and– and have only a select group of people treat them and... It was supposed to be our project. You and me! Will you just– give that up?"

Big, fat tears were rolling down her cheeks as she continued yelling. "And you still have to see Naruto become Hokage! He wants you to be there, with me and Sasuke-kun and Kakashi-sensei and Teuchi-san and everyone else! It won't be the same if you're gone! We can't ruin Naruto's dream!"

Tsunade pulled her into her arms, gliding a hand through her hair. She didn't say anything, yet she managed to convey dozens of words and emotions with just that action. 

Sakura balled her hands into fists. "And you still have to see the end of the war!" 

Tsunade didn't stop stroking her head. "We don't know when it will end. Could be weeks, could be a year, or two, or longer." 

"I hate this." she sniffled into her teacher's robe. 

"Me too, Sakura. Me too."

"I hate war." 

"Me too."

They stood like that for a long time, Tsunade stroking her hair while she quietly tried to stop the tears from spilling again, failing miserably every time.

Four

"Sakura?" 

Ino was dead. 

"Hey, Sakura?"

And she didn't even know the date she had died. 

"Sakura-chan?" 

What a shitty friend she was. 

The least she could do was remember her death anniversary. And she had failed. Yet again.

"Sakura." 

The days were blurring together. Someone apparently kept track, because she'd sometimes hear about a month passing from someone. Nobody would listen, except when it came to the one-year mark. Once a year in October, word would go around, whispering;

"It's been four years now."

"When will this end?"

"This year, we'll end the war." 

Other than that, nobody really cared. It hadn’t mattered. 

Until it did. 

"Sakura." 

She should've asked what day it was. Should've remembered to document it somewhere. But nobody did those anymore. The growing number of the dead were more than double the number of the alive. People stopped documenting the deaths after the third year. 

She had let Ino down. Had drowned herself in grief, not bothering to talk with people outside of the most necessary times. Hadn't bothered to count the days that followed. Had forgotten to–

"Sakura!" 

She blinked. The lone eye of her teacher stared back at her. 

"What." she drily asked, annoyed to have been interrupted during her thoughts.

"I've been calling your name for some time now." Kakashi said, biting down on a soldier pill. They were sitting in one of the tents. She didn't know when he had joined her here.

"I know. I was ignoring it." 

Kakashi sighed. "You're making this hard for me, you know?" 

"Leave, Sensei. I'm not in the mood to talk. I have to leave in a few hours for the frontlines." 

"You're not going to sleep anyway. Let this old man talk, will you?" 

"No." 

"Come on." 

She slammed down her bottle of alcohol. It was one of the few ones left of Tsunade's stash. "Speak." she ordered. 

Perhaps she was being too harsh on her own teacher. But Ino was dead and not going to come back. 

Kakashi took what she offered though. "Sakura." 

She frowned and took a gulp of the liquid, trying and failing to drink herself into unconsciousness. How long had it been since she last slept? 

"You don't have to blame yourself." 

"No." She didn't hesitate to say that. 

"Sakura. Just listen to me for a second. I'll leave after that." He was looking exhausted too. Why he came here instead of sleeping, she didn't know, and, honestly, didn't want to know. "I know it can be hard to not try to shoulder all the blame and grief, but– you always need to remember that it's not your fault. People die all the time. Perhaps I will die tomorrow. Or I won't. Because it's not predictable. No matter how hard you try, Sakura, not everyone can be saved." 

"Ino was someone I could've saved." was how she broke the long silence that followed. 

Kakashi shook his head. He seemed to know exactly how she was feeling, and what not to say. He didn't say 'you couldn't have saved her' or 'she would want you to move on'.

Kakashi knew that she didn't want to hear something like that. He knew that Ino wasn't destined to die that day, knew that she could've saved her. He knew that she didn't want to move on just yet. He knew just what to say, to make it cross the thick walls that she had built out of her anger and grief around herself, make it reach her head and heart, swirling with devastating thoughts.

He knew.

"She could've died a day later, a week later, or the second you took your eyes off her. You never know when a person will die. Even if you could save everyone, you can't and won't because you can't predict everything. I won't tell you to get over it, or forget. Just remember that we humans, no matter if Shinobi or civilian, are powerless against death. Not even the Byakugō can prevent or bring back from death." 

With that, he disappeared, leaving her to mull over his words for a bit. Ultimately, she grabbed the bottle again, downing the rest in one go.

Seven

"Fuck." Sakura whispered, looking into the mirror. 

Jade-green eyes were glowering back at her, seeing her everything. 

Her thoughts, her emotions, her questions, her feelings, it was all visible and clear to these green eyes, perfectly trained to spot early signs of illness, both physically and mentally. 

And once she noticed that, it was all too visible. Too bare. Too obvious. 

Sakura huffed out a shaky laugh.

As if I could ever hide something from myself.

Chapter Text

Haruno Sakura was by no means "talented".

At least, that's what she thought. Though she had worked her way up through hours and hours of training until she could proudly call herself one of the strongest women (and sometimes people, when she was feeling particularly confident) to ever live, there was something fundamentally different about the 'gifted' people she often found herself surrounded with.

They were on this entirely different level that granted them the ability to succeed in anything, as long as they tried enough. It was a level she could've never reached, no matter how many more hours of Tsunade's bone-crushing training she endured and how many more volumes of books she read until she knew the words by heart, because Naruto and Sasuke were continuously achieving things she couldn’t even begin to dream of in a span of months.

They – Sasuke for sure – could've probably learned the arts of healing, if only they had enough time. 

She wasn't special for being somewhat good at healing.

She wasn't 'the only one in her team that could heal', the others just didn't do it.

That was what set her apart from them. She had a limit. The maximum she could ever reach. Her possibilities weren't endless. Rather, they were countable. And once she used up all the potential she had, the others would continue to jump leaps and discover new abilities they secretely harbored. And then she would be looking at their backs again, sprinting past her with a speed she had long exhausted.

Sakura knew she shouldn't feel that way. Shouldn't feel jealous of someone else's success when they were in the middle of a war.

She knew.

But in the quiet moments she was given from time to time, in which she was left alone in the tiny tent she called hers before rushing back to either the frontline or the medic tent, she couldn’t help but be reminded of the everlasting fact that there was nothing that made her unique.

Nothing made her special in the face of the prodigies her team consisted of. No technique that only she could do. Nothing that people would specifically require her, Haruno Sakura, for, because it was only a matter of time before they were miles better than her in everything she built up for herself.

That's right, in this endless war between the (remaining) Allied Shinobi Forces and Kaguya's army, it was only a matter of time before she was the useless one again and the others could do what she could do but so much better.

She had learned to come to terms with that fact long ago.

That she could never be like them. Don't get her wrong, her self-esteem was nowhere near as low as in her younger days. She knew she was strong. Maybe never as strong at the boys but still strong enough and that was what mattered. As long as they all survived, it didn't matter if she couldn't even begin to compare herself to them. Sasuke and Naruto acknowledged her powers. They knew she was someone they could rely on.

The problem was the others.

When it got to 7 years of war, nobody really remembered that there had been a time when everyone hated Naruto and considered Sasuke a traitor.

Now, they were the heroes of the Shinobi Forces. The pillars. The strongest. They were what kept the shinobi's morale high and the sole reason they could hold on this long.

But Sakura? Sakura was the same as before the war and everyone knew. She was still the weakest. She was still a burden. Always a bother, like that time when Kakashi told her to escape while he bought time, effectively leaving him to die fighting the Rabbit Goddess. She and Kakashi got called a lot of names for that one.

"How could he force us to abandon the camp with all the resources that we gathered?"

"We just started somewhat settling down, but now we gave to start from scratch again!"

"Couldn't he have just... you know, lured her away? Guess the Copy-nin's wits only amounted to so much if his first thought was to abandon everything we've build up."

"And the Fifth's apprentice, too. How could she just leave him to die? Wasn't he her teacher?"

Looking back at it, that was probably the moment she'd lost faith in humanity. The moment they started dragging the name of a comrade that sacrificed themselves for their survival though the dirt. As if she had had much of a choice when Kakashi was going to do it either way to save the whole camp from being wiped out. It was only logical for her to escape along with the rest, because what damage could she do to Kaguya? Saving one more person was better than fighting a fight she would only hinder Kakashi in.

And it wasn't like she wanted to leave him behind. 

The people weren't always like that.

War made them bitter and anxious, having gone through countless losses and never knowing when the next wave of attacks would come – how much more time they had, before they too would be captured and consumed to become another member of Kaguya's growing army of mindless minions.

Another factor was probably that only people of prestigious clans survived up to that point. Only those who had training drilled into them as soon as they could walk, would've continued to get up after each battle. Unfortunately, being born into a warrior family meant being born with a golden spoon in the mouth.

A civilian-born like her wasn't exactly commom or welcomed into the community of noble clans.

The point was that Sakura was the odd one in Team 7, now consisting of only 3 members.

Not that anyone said it to her, but she could recognize the looks in their eyes when she came back to tell them how many died that day (duties of a healer), while Sasuke and Naruto (mainly the latter though) boasted about their achievements in that particular fight.

"Naruto and Sasuke are guilty of their deaths, too." She sometimes wanted to say. But that wouldn't make her any different from them. 

And she didn't want them to hate Naruto and Sasuke too. They didn't deserve that.   

Was it after Tsunade's death?

People began to see her as less. For being weaker than her teammates. For being a 'bad healer' that 'couldn't even keep 10 people alive'.

But Sasuke and Naruto were right there fighting the Zetsu. They were supposed to have her back and ensure she could heal the injured. She couldn’t do that when the ones at the front seemingly weren't able to keep the enemies off and kept forcing her to fight. The war was hopeless anyway. Although Naruto seemed to have everyone convinced there was a future in which they could win, Sakura had given up hope quite some time ago.

Because she, the healer, knew the best.They were losing entire troops every day, and out of all the remaining, only a fraction was still willing and able to fight. Someone going to the battlefield had a 80% chance of not coming back, and fighting at the frontline was no different from suicide.

Might as well just throw yourself infront of the first Zetsu and become fuel for Kaguya's power, like some decided to do nowadays.

And yet they were saying they could win?

Come on.

Sakura was sick of it.

Sick of fighting herself to the brink of death for a future that wouldn’t – couldn't – come. Sick of shouldering all the blame. Sick of being the weakest. Sick of being replaceable.

And when she decided that, it was as if the world had waited for that moment. Even though she was jealous and sometimes even spiteful of Naruto and Sasuke, that didn't mean she didn't love them with all that remained of her heart.

She couldn’t blame them for the things others thought of her.

The both of them had lived a life unimaginably painful life. Hating them for something out of their control was the last thing she wanted to do to them. They were the only ones who had always been with her. Even if they parted ways in search of power, in the end, they would always come back together as Team 7. 

Perhaps that's why she didn't feel too bad about dying. At least the last thing she'd do would be for them. Not for the Shinobi Alliance, of her village, or an unrealistic happily ever after. 

To ensure they can live just a day longer, even if that day is filled with death and suffering. As long as they were alive.

And as Kaguya's arm pierced her chest, blood gushing out of the wound, along with the taste of iron blooming in her mouth, she heard a pained scream from not her but Naruto, whom she pushed aside a moment ago.

A raven-haired head in the distance, whipping to the side. Mismatched eyes widening and mouth moving in words she couldn’t understand, maybe because she was rapidly bleeding out.

The man appeared beside her in a flash and caught her falling body a fraction of a second before she hit the ground. She didn't really care.

Someone gently laid her onto the ground before they dissappeared out of her vision along with Sasuke. She didn’t know how long she lay there, trying to stop her body from automatically healing her, like years of training accustomed her to.

It was useless.

(Just like her)

Her lungs were punctured, a giant hole straight through the vital organs (she knew that she could've twisted at the last moment to avoid just that, knew she could've survived if she wanted to), and she was losing more blood than she could hope to recover.

She didn't regret what she had done. It was more beneficial for her to die rather than to lose Naruto.

She wanted this.

Sometime later, Naruto appeared before her again with a face all scrunched up and dirty from ash, blood, and tears running down his cheeks.

He held her tightly, though she was starting to lose the sensation in her body. Sasuke was kneeling on the ground, hair covering his eyes. Sakura didn't know what kind of expression he was wearing. She hoped he was at least feeling somewhat sad.

More people started surrounding them, but she paid no mind to them. They'd gotten what they wanted. At last, it was Sakura's turn to sacrifice herself for the sake of a bright future that wouldn’t happen. She would be forgotten in a few weeks time, and the camp would've appointed one of the better healers to the now vacant chief position, and Sasuke and Naruto would have to be a bit more alert, now that she couldn’t block the occasional sneaking up Zetsu.

Sakura didn't notice when her mind started drifting off, her thoughts quieting down like candles burning out one after the another. Her head was blank – similar to when she was mindlessly healing patients –, but by the time she had realized that, she was already too far gone to look Naruto in the eyes one last time or say some final words.

There was a strange feeling of calmness inside her mind in her last moment. Like being wrapped up in a cold, yet hot blanket.

She embraced it.

Chapter Text

Sakura had one thought, waking up screaming her lungs out. 

Shit.

Because she wasn't supposed to be screaming. She wasn't supposed to have a voice at all. And she sure as hell wasn't supposed to know that.

Her last memory was a hazy mix of echoed shouts, blurred movements, and a warm liquid trickling down her limp body. Though she couldn't remember how, it was clearer than anything that she had died. And death wasn't reversible, last time she checked. 

Of course, there was the eery, human-sacrificing, resurrection jutsu the Second had created in hopes of seeing his deceased brothers again, but that option was already crossed out since this wasn't her body.

At least, not the one she last remembered having. The small figure she looked down at was young. Very young compared to the adult body she'd at the time she died.

Besides, if she really was resurrected by some future version of Kabuto and Orochimaru, one would expect her to wake up in some shady cave or a laboratory, reeking of strange liquids of unknown origin. Or perhaps even face-to-face with the reigning power of the future, asking to assist in a war against an enemy too great to subdue without help from powers of the past. 

Not unlike the situation the Hokage opened their eyes to, back in the first stages of the war.

Back when a peaceful future still seemed reachable.

But Sakura found herself in none of the situations she would've expected to find herself in. She was currently lying on an unnaturally soft surface that had her wanting to melt into the material and never wake up again. Unfortunately, she'd already tried 'going to sleep and never waking up again' and last time, it got her into whatever this mess was. 

Careful so as to not make any noise, Sakura (but is she even still Sakura? This can't be her body. Does that make her someone else, a spirit possessing a body?) got up into a sitting position and surveyed the room she had now a better view at. 

And as she looked upon a room that looked all too similar to her childhood bedroom that was destroyed decades ago, she could've sworn everything came to a complete halt for a short moment. Her heartbeat, the countless questions and theories circling around her mind, and even the constant ringing in her ears she hadn't been able to get rid of ever since it started the day Ino died. 

The next seconds went by in a haze. Stumbling on legs, too short and weak to be hers, to where she remembered the bathroom of her childhood home to be. Locking the door behind her, just in case she was in the enemy's lair (even though everything in her told her this was home). Reaching for the chair her mother had gotten her when she first started walking (She distantly remembered holding a single wooden leg to her chest, as she kneeled in the wasteland that was once her home.). Looking up in the mirror at where she expected the face of a kunoichi, a warrior, to be, only to find a pair of too big eyes glaring back at her. And in those young, young eyes, an innocence and naivety that she had despised herself for not giving up on soon enough. 

All whilst the ringing gradually got louder, drowning out rapid knocks and panicked calls from the other side of the door and the thoughts that should've been racing in her head by now, until it finally overwhelmed her and she could do nothing else but let go.

She felt herself falling backward as the door behind burst open, a voice she'd almost forgotten shouting her name. 

"Sakura!"

"I... nt... ow... just started... ming... ldn't... ear... s"  

For a short, hazy second, Sakura wanted to do nothing more than to hit whoever was making so much noise, and sink back into the endless abyss she'd been in before the voices woke her. 

"...nd ...e... didn't... eem... rent... ore... is?" 

But her instincts, seemingly the only thing she'd brought here with her, told her to get up and find out more information. Years of having this drilled into her very being weren't gone for nothing, and she promptly threw the suddenly too hot blanket back and propped herself up. (Why was her body so heavy?)

That got the voices to finally shut up, and through blurred eyes, she looked at the figures of a much younger version of her (dead) mother and a stranger she assumed was some kind of doctor, judging by his attire and the specks of sentences she'd made out. His expression changed into a softer one that would've probably been calming for children, but not for her because she was 25 years old. (She pushed the fact she looked like a 5 year old into a deep corner of her mind.)

"It seems little Sakura has woken up." He leaned in, wearing one of those smiles Kakashi would have on when he wanted to end a conversation as soon as possible. "My name is Inomaru Yamanaka. I am here because I heard from your mother that you were scre– making a lot of noise really early in the morning."

When Sakura remained quiet, the man's smile faltered a bit, and she could've sworn she heard him click his tongue. He turned to her mother, who had been looking at her with an anxious expression. "And you are sure there's no sign of someone breaking in?" 

Upon seeing her mother nod slowly, Inomaru sighed in an exasperated manner, as if this was the most stressful thing he had ever faced. (Like he knew about the things she had gone through the past 7 years.) Then he turned back to face her. "Look, Sakura-chan. I'm supposed to be somewhere else right now, maybe helping a Shinobi that actually needs help. I can't waste my time on civilian children having nightmares. And I'm sorry to break it to you, but we won't know what is wrong with you unless you tell us. So, please–" 

While the doctor rambled on and on about things he shouldn't be telling a child, Sakura watched as her mother's expression slowly turned into one of anger, until finally, she cut Inomaru off.

"Inomaru-san, it seems you aren't going to be of any help to my child, so I'd like to ask you to leave now. And I'll make sure to inform Inoichi-sama that you consider this a waste of time." She walked towards the door and gave the man a look. "You see, I'm actually on pretty good terms with his wife, and since I'll be seeing her next Wednesday..." 

Sakura sunk back into her cushion, happy to finally see Inomaru leave along with her mother, still happily chatting about the things she was going to tell the head of the Yamanaka.  

Were the situation different, she would've smiled at her mother's wits (something her father would always mention when retelling their high-school love story) and cursed at the way Inomaru treated her for being a civilian. 

The problem was that her mother was long dead, and she long since last considered anything other than Shinobi, and the Yamanaka the first clan to completely perish during the war. (Their ability to control minds was their greatest strength and what eventually lead them to their demise.) At least, that was what should be. 

Now that her ears weren't ringing and the voices of the two adults far away (as much as she loved hearing her mother again), Sakura finally found time to think. 

She didn't need to look back into the mirror (she wasn't sure if she could) to know her body was still that of her six year old self. A quick glance down her body and the immense weakness she felt at her nearly empty chakra coils were enough to confirm as much. And the room, she found herself back in, was as much her childhood bedroom as the whole house seemed to be her old home.

Now, there was one question that remained. 

What happened?

Chapter Text

It had been sometime during fifth year of the war. They had been sitting around a campfire, long after the sun had set and all the other Shinobi had gone to rest (because sleep wasn't possible anymore). It must've been on one of the weekly 'bonding evenings' Sai and Naruto had started.

"Hey, Sakura?" Naruto asked while throwing a rather large branch into the flame.

"Mh-m?" She looked up from the soldier pills she was working on. 

"Do you... do you think-..." Naruto went quiet.

Sasuke, who had been watching her work for lack of other entertainment , also glanced up and raised an eyebrow. "Why so quiet? That's quite unusual behavior coming from an airhead."

"I'm not an airhead! It's just- I don't know... I'm just... uh... struggling to find the right words ." Naruto glared into the fire.

Sai chuckled from the other side of the campfire. "Well, you are usually an airhead. But to think I'd ever see you scrambling for words."

Sakura put her material away and faced Naruto. Apparently, being the most emotionally intelligent person here besides the Uzumaki himself, meant having to take the wheel during these kind of situations. "So, what is it? Just say whatever comes to mind. After all that time spent together, it would be a shame if I didn't understand the thought process of an idiot like you." Though it came out rather harsh, Naruto should know that she meant well.

The blonde took a deep breath . "So... do you think... we could–... go... back and fix all of this?" Naruto's usually loud voice was barely a whisper towards the end.

For a moment, the only noise any of them could hear was the soft crackling of the campfire. It was silent, in the dead of the night. Then, Sakura sighed. Deep and defeated. "Naruto... you know time travel isn't possible."

"But– if you could, would you?"

"Fix this mess? Of fucking course I would!" She leaned back and looked at the stars  glowering down at them . Her eyes threatened to close. It was too late for this shit. "But it isn't possible. Don't you remember what we learnt in the Academy? The laws of time are not for humans to break."

Naruto, too, sighed at that. A long silence followed.

"Shimura-sama– I mean, Danzō once tried to do it ." Sai confessed quietly . "It was after the Uchiha... incident." He sent a catious glance to the only Uchiha present (and alive). 

Sasuke scoffed. "No need to get all discreet now. Do you really think I could've afforded to get offended every time back then? I don't need to be pitied by someone claiming to understand emotions." 

Usually, Sakura would've said something at that. But she knew that, even if Sasuke acted unfazed, he would still get shaken up at the mention of the Massacre that happened so many years ago. His hostility towards Sai wasn't new – rather, it was one of the main reasons they had started gathering every week like this. However, it wasn't normally this bad. Lashing out was the defense mechanism that had gotten him through the worst of times, and she knew that. 

Fortunately, Sai knew it as well and accepted the rather harshly spoken permission to continue. 

"They used assets and recourses they had stolen from the Uchiha – specifically, the Sharingan. I'm not sure how he used them, I don't even know what exactly he wanted to do with... time-travel. A  lot of agents were sent to gather knowledge concerning space-time. Only his most loyal subordinates got to do that, though, and since I was still early into converting, I only heard about it from others."

"Did he succeed?" Naruto asked, as if the answer wasn't obvious.

"Of course not." Sai's fingers twitched and he pulled out his sketch book. "See, in order for time travel to work, one's body would first have to completely be disassembled of the sorts, teleport through time, and then be put together at the other side." Sai painted a simple sketch.

Sakura knew he was aware that he didn't need to do that in order to explain the process. She knew that itching feeling, the need to do something with your hands, because staying still was not preparing, and not preparing meant death. It was the reason why she was making soldier pills like this, whenever she had free time.

"It's like the Second's Flying Thunder God technique." Sai continued, talking to no one in particular, as everyone around the campfire was listening. "Just that there's an extra step where the dissolved parts of one's body travel through time. Danzō tried around for a few months but likely couldn't get that part figured out, and the project was eventually aborted."

"Oh..." Naruto sounded disappointed. Did he seriously think it was a possibility?

Next to her, Sasuke threw another bra nch into the slowly dying fire. "Even if we did manage to go back in time, it'd be practically impossible to prevent Kaguya's revival." His voice was bitter. "This whole plan had been in motion for thousands of years before we were even born. That was why no one had been able to spot it before it was too late. I don't know how far you'd want to go back, but it's going to get harder, the wider the gap between the timelines is."

Sakura nodded. She didn't want to tell Naruto off, but it was better for his own good to give up on such hopes early on. "Preventing this particular course of events from happening will only result in a delay." She continues Sasuke's thought process. "Zetsu is practically impossible to find, especially if he were to know that someone is aware of his existence and plan. No matter how hard we tried to erase the things Zetsu did, he could just start over after we are all dead. It's inevitable."

And then they were all glaring at the fire, cursing Kaguya for coming to this place, cursing Indra and Ashura for turning their conflict into a never ending cycle of war, cursing the world for making them live in such a hellhole. Sakura wondered if she really should've said that. Perhaps she should've gone along with Naruto and dreamt about impossible things. Now, the fragile peace they'd managed to achieve during these weekly sessions was ruined. She felt guilty.

"Now, now, how about we try to start with finding a way for time travel to actually work?" Kakashi, who had been silently listening to the conversation, suddenly said, gaining confused looks from all of them. "If it's an upgraded version of the Hiraishin, we will just have to figure out how to incorporate the extra step. Whether it would be possible to actually change the outcome that is Kaguya's revival i s a bridge we can burn once we get to it.

"Who know, maybe it is possible to prevent the inevitable." 

Sakura let out a chuckle at that. Sasuke smirked, and Sai nudged Naruto about how it may be possible if they could take a closer look at one of the three-pronged Kunai he had shown around some time ago.

Since all five of them had had some training in Fūinjutsu, they quietly exchanged ideas about the techniques it may require. Though she knew that it was only a distant dream and never an actual possibility, going to sleep that night was a bit easier and less plagued with nightmares of fallen comrades.

It was a week after that night that Kakashi died.

Chapter Text

She was Sakura Haruno.

Twenty-four, turning twenty-five in a few months.

Not a five year old child.

That's what she told herself, pacing around the room while muttering curses she shouldn't know at 'her age' under her breath. Sakura had believed, for a terrible few seconds, to have dreamt all of this. There had been relief, of course. The war never happened. Ino was alive and thriving. Her Shisho, god Shisho, was alive. Kakashi was, even considering the almost-dead state his current depressed self was in, alive. And she had no reason to expect an all-destroying war to be coming right at them. Because, honestly, wasnt it too unrealistic? A rabbit goddess' sons reincarnating throughout the centuries and as her teammates? It had always felt like some kind of twisted reality, something straight out of a horror-tale or someone's wild imagination. Thinking of it as a simple nightmare seemed much more uncomplicated.

And while she had been relieved, happy even, the thing she felt first and foremost was disappointment. The heavy boulder that was lifted off her shoulders was almost instantly (maybe even before the wash of relief) replaced by a heavy blow to the gut. Had all of her hard work, all of that training and drilling, been for nothing? It had never even happened? Was this dream supposed to show her a false version of herself that she herself could never reach? The Sakura in her dream could go toe-to-toe with some of the most powerful people alive (besides Kaguya, of course, but she was anything but a person.), heal dozens of people at the same time, bring people back from the brink of death, punch holes into mountains, and so much more.

And, although she had been in constant danger in that dream, she had been strong. Not stronger than everyone, but most people. Sakura had craved that as much as she knew that it was impossible for her to ever hope to reach that level, as it was all just a dream at the end of the day.

And then logic kicked in.

While some part of her hoped that the future of a never-ending war and the inescapable end of mankind was just a wild dream, something too unrealistic to ever actually happen, her brain told a different story.

Sakura wasn't a child. Not with the things she knew, not with the things she remembered. And once she realized that, she made sure to eradicate all thoughts of just a nightmare and decided to avoid all trains of thoughts and theories implying that she had imagined it all. Because that was what Sakura was best at; thinking.

She was a paper-ninja at heart. She knew that and had learned to be proud of it. And Sakura had Tsunades training to back her up to avoid the 'paper-ninja are fated to die young'-destiny. That didn't keep her from going down the usual route, of course. War forced people to learn how to fight dirty. No more carefully thought-out attack patterns. War was all about survival, and survival meant stabbing everything that came too close to you. However, the longer it went on, the harder it became to completely rely on the rush of adrenaline to kill all your enemies. Only those that realized that early enough and changed something in order to not be killed after exhausting oneself, survived the next years. For Sakura, it came down to her origins as a paper-ninja. Knowing how to calculate the angle of a thrown kunai wasn't going to save her from the limitless waves of Zetsu, but knowing how to throw a kunai just right to kill someone [or somezetsu, haha] was critical during a war against an enemy with an endless supply of armies.

She had come to appreciate the theorist and thinker inside of her. It helped her remain rational during the worst times (usually after someone died, and that was every other day).

Looking at the current situation, she could cross out a few branches of possible directions.

First, this couldn't be a Genjutsu. She had learned from Sasuke sometime during the war how to spot the signs of a false world and break out of it, and the only ones capable of trapping her in a Genjutsu after that, were said Sasuke and Kaguya. But Kaguya couldn't know what her childhood bedroom or her mother looked like. And the method of using the target's memories as the basis had one fatal flaw; consistency. Especially with early memories, Sasuke had told her, when recalling them, one tended to unconsciously fill up the missing parts. A child's brain could only know so much. But a Genjutsu-caster wouldn't know where in the memories to look in order to fill in blank spaces. So, when coming across one of those places, the jutsu fills it with either the memories of the caster, or whatever the person at the time of the memories had expected to be there. For Sakura, that meant she had to look for something current-her knew, but neither Kaguya nor child-Sakura could know. And that was relatively easy.

She went up to the mirror a second time that day and lifted a few strands of her short, rose-colored hair near her ear up. And there it was. A birthmark the shape of three small dots behind her ear. Sakura had only noticed it after she had had to get rid of a part of her hair when an enemy grabbed her by it. It was eerily similar to the chunin exams and her cutting off her long hair. Just this time, the Zetsu had been clinging so close to the roots (ridding them of their limbs apparently did nothing to stop the Zetsu from moving them) that she had been forced to medically cut off the connections between the roots and her head with a few pulses of chakra sent the way of the pain. That was the one thing good about having someone yanking at your hair, since you could be sure where exactly to sever the connections.

But anyway, the birthmark was there and Sakura hadn't known about it until she was twenty years old. And Kaguya was the last person who could know about it.

So Genjutsu was off the list.

Next, a really elaborate prank. Or, when put into context, someone intentionally planning to confuse her. Of course, it didn't make any sense, nor was it of use to anyone to get Sakura to think of the other option. But she had often thought that something was impossible, only for exactly that to be the case, which is why she decided to keep that theory in for now. Again, it was extremely unlikely for that to be the case, considering the amount of detail and digging one must do to find this kind of information (How else could someone replicate her bedroom and the face of her mother?).

Which is why the third and last option was the most likely and also the most confusing.

Time-travel.

She didn't want to think it was true. She didn't want to hope for something and be disappointed by the truth. She didn't want to unnecessarily get her hopes up.

And yet.

Sakura couldn't help but wish that she was thinking about this correctly. That everything did point to this conclusion. That she wasn't having her thinking influenced by this bias. That there was actually the possibility that she had once dreamt of. Had never stopped hoping for, somewhere in her heart. The possibility of saving everyone. 

And she knew that even if that wasn't the case – even if she was wrong about it –, she'd still cling to that tiny strand of hope, like a drowning man to a lifebuoy. Because once she had been given the prospect of a peaceful future, there was nothing that could stop her from fulfilling it.

Chapter Text

So, Sakura was alive. For some reason.

And she was around 95 percent sure, presuming she wasn't going crazy, that she had time-traveled too. Or rather, she was alive, because she had time-traveled. The destination? Somewhere during her fourth to fifth year of living (Sakura only knew that, due to the absence of the horrible yellow blob of color on her wall, as that one had been an accident from when she was seven.)

She would've liked to make sure of a hundred more things and clear up thousands of other uncertainties, but a five-year old shouldn't be spending so much time alone in her room, lest she be diagnosed with some personality disorder that apparently caused her to be unsocial.

Sakura had plenty of time to think more at night. First though, she needed to get more information.

Because the pink-haired man that had just entered her room wasn't her father.

"Sacchan? Sakura?"

A hand was placed on her shoulder. It was cold.

"Saaakura?"

"Oh– yes?" She said, trying to mimic the high-pitched tone her voice had had at that age.

"You spaced out, just now. What were you thinking 'bout with that tiny brain of yours, hm?" The man said, while ruffling through her hair.

On second thought, he wasn't a man, but rather a young teenager. Maybe around 12-years old? The height difference had probably messed up her perception. And the shock of seeing a stranger call himself her brother.

"See! You're doing it again. Sacchan, you are being really weird today."

"Am not!" Was her shrieking reply. Sakura grimaced internally. She would need to work on her personality if she wanted to avoid dying of shame.

The two of them were sitting at the dining table, while her mother cooked food. She had decided to go downstairs earlier after this... person came to fetch her.

"Yeah, sure. That's what they all say and later turn out to be a–"

"Yūta!" Her mother interrupted him. "You're not supposed to tell a child that!" She started scolding him about what not to tell small children.
Sakura watched the interaction closely, trying to figure out the relationship between her mother and her so-called brother. He probably wasn't adopted though, pink hair and all. Maybe he was her half-brother? The hair came from her (their?) father, after all.

That reminded her...

"Where's Otōsan?", she asked.

Her mother stilled, while Yūta—likely his name—coughed on his drink. "Sacchan, what do you mean by that? Tell your Nīchan."

"Just... that." Sakura carefully said. What was going on? Where was he?

Her mother suddenly kneeled next to her and Sakura jumped a little She seriously needed to get the ninja-senses back. Her voice was soft. "Sakura, dear. You know your Otōsan isn't here anymore. He went on a long trip."

"A trip to where? When is he coming back?" A suspicion she didn't want to confirm was dawning upon her. "Is–... Is he gonna come back?"

Mebuki sighed deeply. "Sacchan, we already talked about that, didn't we? Otōsan can't come back. You said goodbye to him, remember?" She put a warm hand against her cheek. "It's just us now."

"But don't worry, my dearest sister! I shall protect you!" Yūta loudly declared next to her. She heard his voice muffled, brain racing with thoughts, as the ringing in her ears was suddenly back at full force.

Huh?

Her father–... Otōsan was dead?

But she had only just come back! Wasnt she supposed to save everyone? Did she fail?

Had she already failed?

But... Why would... How could... Was she–

"Sakura!"

And there was the cold hand on her shoulder again. This time on both sides. They were swinging her back and forth, a voice calling her name over and over. Her cheeks were wet.

Blood?

"Hey! Sakura! Why're you crying? What made you sad now?" Yūta's grip around her was tight and somehow made her feel secure. It reminded her of a strong arms carrying her around the village, tightly holding her so she wouldn't fall, calling her by the special nickname only he had used–

"Blossom?" And emerald eyes just like hers were staring at her, full of concern. "Whats wrong? Will you tell me? I will try to make it better."

And Sakura knew he was a stranger, no matter how much he claimed not to be. But those eyes and the face that carried so much resemblance to–

Sakura threw herself at Yūta and strong arms wrapped around her, protecting her from the dangers of the future. She clung to this stranger like he was her lifeline.
And suddenly she was overwhelmed with feelings, not knowing whether to be overjoyed or devastated. Her mother was alive, standing right there. Sakura would've liked to hug her too. And everyone else was alive. She could save them.

But at the same time, she had lost her father before she had a chance to see him again. What if she lost them again? How was she supposed to save everyone?

Could she even do that?

Sakura had the urge to slap herself, throw herself out of this trance. But instead, she pulled at the pink locks of her probably-brother, as he yelled at her to stop. Her mother cupped her face with her warm hands and was telling her that it was all going to be alright. That she didn't have to worry about a thing.

But Okāsan, she wanted to say.

How am I supposed to save the world if I am so weak? How am I supposed to stop the Tsuki no Me plan if I am clinging to a stranger? How am I supposed to stop something that has been bound to happen for centuries if I cannot even stop myself from crying?

Tell me, Okāsan, she wanted to say, how could I not worry about a thing, when I am the only one that knows about the end of the world?

How could she rest idly, when the gods were telling her to prevent the inevitable?

Chapter Text

This wasn't her home, Sakura realized some time later. Yes, the building was the same, and her bedroom walls were painted in that same, obnoxiously bright pink color (contrary to popular opinion, she didn't actually like every shade of pink), but that was it.

Her room was, upon closer inspection, missing a lot of furniture. Her clothes hung on a clothes hanger on a metal bar, the ones that didn't fit on the bar lying on a wooden table underneath it. There was no wardrobe or closet. The bookshelf – the one with all of the old books that her mother had hoarded decades ago and brought here when they moved into this house during her pregnancy – was still there, albeit missing a bit too many books, making that collection her mother had prouded herself in seem a lot more sparse.

Her bed turned out to be one of those couches that could be folded out, which was probably uncomfortable for the average person and even more for a child, but it was still like heaven for someone like Sakura, who had slept on the wet and sticky grass of the wilderness, or the rough stone of a cold cave for the last months of the war. By then, opening another camp had been out of question, and they had had to take shelter wherever seemed save enough as a hiding spot at the moment.

The kitchen and the dining room were also only sparsely decorated if the table and the two flower pots in the corners could even be considered as such. Even though Sakura had yet to have the chance to explore the house more (it would seem too suspicious, and she had already drawn too much attention earlier), she strongly suspeceted the other rooms to be in a similiar state.

There was also the matter of her dead father and, more importantly, Yūta, who was apparently her brother.

Was she in a parallel universe? If so, did Kaguya and Zetsu even exist? Was Akatsuki still a thing? Would she even need to fight at all? If the world wasn't going to end, there was really no need to go ahead and tray to save everyone, right?

Because then, Sakura would be just like any other person trying to keep their loved ones safe and she, just like them, wouldn't be able to predict any deaths, as she had assumed so far, with the time-travel and all.

Maybe the world wouldn't end after all. Maybe she'd live and die like anyone else, being subject to the unpredictability of the world once again.

She didn't feel particularily relieved by that, somehow.

Yet, that was only assuming the world outside had changed drastically. Her parents saving more money when it came to house decorations (aka being poor) wasn't such a huge change, compared to the possibility of Kaguya never having happened.

But she couldn't know that. Couldn't know what was changed until she came across it. (And then it would be too late.) This could be all that had changed, or just a fraction of the hundreds of differences that awaited Sakura outside of her home. Nothing could be the same as she remembered. Everyone she once knew could be a completely different person leading a completely different life. Like her parents who now had two children instead of one. Or her father, who would've still been alive. Her father who wasn't supposed to die before the fifth year. Her father, who she should have reunited with. Who she had wanted to–

But still.

At least– At least she was still Sakura Haruno. And that was what mattered.

Not for others, a cruel voice whispered in her mind. Not to them. You aren't the Sakura they know.

The voice was right. Even if she considered herself as the same person, others wouldn't. To them, she was an intruder, a stranger possessing the body of Sakura. She wouldn't be welcomed. She wouldn't be thanked for stealing this body in order to try saving the world. She would be looked upon with disgust and hatred for extending a life she had given up on.

And her dream–

Sakura had been wrong. Ridiculously wrong.

Her plans weren't unreachable or impossible. They were far and difficult, yes, but still in distinguishable distance. It was if her identity was found out–
It was then, that her goal, her dream, would be truly unattainable.

She couldn't let anyone know. Ever.

Later that night, Sakura finally did what she had been putting off for some time now.

Checking her current body's state.

She probably should've done that first and foremost, along with other things like making sure a world outside of her house actually existed (just in case, it really was an elaborate Genjutsu she was dealing with), or laying low (which didnt include crying amounts of tears that rivaled Taki's waterfalls, while cling to a random stranger-that-claimed-to-be-her-brother's arms).

But it was likely that she had had already thrown out all honor and duty of a shinobi by screaming the shit out of her lungs as soon as she woke up.

Because that definitely wasn't the stealthy ninja-thing that she was supposed to do, as a – you know – stealthy ninja.

Sasuke or Kakashi would've handled the situation a whole lot better than she did. (She wasn't sure about Naruto though). But it was Sakura who ended up in this shitty-but-maybe-great situation, so it was up to her to decide if she was doing the right thing.

At least, that was what she told herself.

...

She would've liked it more if she had been in this together with someone else.

So, Sakura didn't really want to check her chakra. 

But she needed to do it.

Probably.

Sure, a "time-travel guide" didn't exist, but she was pretty sure that being aware of your current abilities was quite important.

She'd have to know what to work with in order to prevent the war.

20 minutes later, Sakura contemplated screaming.

Fuck saving the world, since her chakra pool was practically non-existent, her chakra pathways a jumbled mess of underdeveloped jack-shit, and her muscle definiton not even worth mentioning.

She was so fucking sure that it wasn't this bad last time around, no matter how little she trusted her memory of this time of her life. There was no way, she could've ever become a ninja with that, Sakura wasn't even sure if this body could support a henge, let alone a clone.

Not to mention the fact her body was severly malnourished and, unless the Sakura of this world had started dieting at age six (she couldn't even be sure if this body even was six years old anymore), it meant that her family in this parallel universe was poor as fuck (for clarification, she knew that the Harunos were somewhat poor over here, but not to this extent), and that wasn't going to help her in saving the world.

And, if she was already on that topic–

To goddamn hell with this world, because she wasn't going to fight Kaguya, or Pein, or Danzō, or Orochimaru with whatever this was, and if she didn't do it, no one would.

How was she going to 'save everyone' if her battle prowess didn't even survive the trip to here?

Yeah, forget hiding her identity, since she would need to be more worried about surviving until then.

Was that her punishment? Watching the world end while not even being able to do anything at all? Was she supposed to just sit there and watch?

Sakura threw her pen at the wall. She would've thrown the whole desk too, if she wasn't so fucking weak. So instead, she threw her notes with a half-baked plan off her desk, since apparently, they weren't going to work, because of this stupid change that had no effect on anyone but her, the one person that had time-traveled and could perhaps prevent the world from going up in flames, being trampled on by an ancient goddess, and then going down in a pile of ashes and debris.

Because of course Sakura wasn't going to have it easy with this whole ordeal, was she? That was just how this world was – and it was the same world, no matter how poor she was, or how many additional brothers she had –, since it just had to make saving it infinitely more difficult that it was already going to be.

Still, that wasn't a valid reason to downgrade her abilities, Sakura thought.

But who was going to prevent the world from ending if not her?

"Hah."

Sakura sighed and went to pick up her pen, scrambling for the sheets of paper that were scattered across the room.

Fuck.

What was she supposed to do?

Chapter Text

"Hello?"

Sakura startled at the voice that had suddenly appeared behind her. How had she not noticed him?

She slowly turned around, erasing her wary and tense expression and carefully changing it into a shy and confused look, more appropriate for her supposed age. Though she couldn’t nor wanted to stop a suspicious glint from creeping up her eyes, revealing what she was actually feeling.

"Oh! Is this your place? I didn't know." Sakura tried herself at mimicking the high-pitched tone of her younger self, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the effort, as the young man before her wasn't an acquaintance anyway.

"Nah, I don't own this place, but I come here fairly often." the boy said. His tone was casual and not at all like the soft tone people mostly took on when talking to 'small children' like her. "What are you even doing here, huh?" The boy came closer and crouched down in front of her. It was better than him looming over her, she supposed. He looked to be around 14, give or take a few years. 

"I was looking at flowers." She said without a moment of pause. Fully slipping into her act of a random, run-of-the-mill child, Sakura then sent a sad glance towards the flowers. "I can't take them, though. It's bad, 'cuz the bees need them."

"Ah, I see..." He made a thoughtful noise, gliding his hand through the messy curls of his dark hair. "And who told you that?"

"Okāsan did. She's always right."

"Does your Okāsan know that you're here?" The teenager asked.

"Uh-huh!" She didn't know, actually. Her mother thought she was meeting with her friend 'Keito' that she had met some time ago.

But he didn't need to know that.

"And she thinks you're watching flowers?" He questioned this time, eyeing the dirt on her pants. It should pass off as a result of kneeling on the ground to, you know, look at flowers.

Why was asking her all these things though? What was he, a cop? 

"Yeah, obviously!" Not at all, really. Her mother didn't even know she was here, in the forest at the outskirts of the village.

"Then..." The boy crossed his arms, and his expression changed into one of disappointment. Or – well – it would've looked like one if it wasn't so badly done. The boy was clearly imitating someone and not doing it right on top of that. She wanted to snort.

"Then what?" Sakura said, awaiting whatever judgment the teenager had made about her looking at flowers. It couldn't be actually bad, right?

"Why did I see you practicing Jutsu, then?"

Oh. Well. That sucked. Sakura internally cursed. Had he watched her or something?

"What'cha talking about?" Sakura crossed her fingers behind her back. Perhaps she could play it off?

"I saw you doing handsigns." Fuck.

"I saw it in a book. But I can't actually do the jutsus!" Play it cool, play it cool.

"I also saw you run up the tree over there–"

"Anyone, even squirrels, can climb trees! And they don't have chakra, too!" Quick, come up with something!

"–and you made a Shadow Clone."

Sakura's heart sank in her chest. She had, thoroughly, fucked up.

Why was he even here? Sure, it was a bad idea to do all of that stuff, ranging from mildly interesting to highly suspicious, but she couldn't be blamed for checking if she was able to make a Shadow CLone at all, right? And, really, was she really at fault for assuming this remote forest that she hadn't even known about in her previous life wasn't frequented by people?

"Uhm..." Sakura scrambled for words. "I read it in a book...?" She internally cringed at the tone her voice took towards the end. Who would believe such a blatant lie?

"Sure. Because the Shadow Clone Jutsu is written in the books they sell at the bookstore around the corner. Yeah, right." The boy uncrossed his arms and pointed an accusing finger at her. Sakura took a step back, only to find her back bumping against the very tree she has walked up using chakra earlier. 

The boy was watching her like a hawk and blocking any escape routes too. And she couldn't use Shunshin now, after wasting most of her chakra on that Shadow clone. She wasn't getting out of here anytime soon, she concluded. 

"So," The boy finally said in a grave tone. "What were you actually doing here? Tell me."

No way. Sakura couldn't actually say 'training my body to save the world 10 years from now' and expect to be greeted with understanding. 

"Why do you need to know?" She dropped the innocent act – it wouldn't change much at this point – and regarded the boy interrogating her suspiciously.

"Well, the Shadow Clone Jutsu is a dangerous and well-protected technique that a small girl shouldn't know." He tapped her forehead with his finger. She refused to wince at that and glared at him. The boy continued. "And you clearly know that it takes up way too much chakra, judging from the way you meditated before performing it."

So he saw that too?

"So what?"

"Don't 'so what' me! You could've died from that, you know!" He crossed his arms again. "What if that had happened, huh? If you were dying from chakra exhaustion, nobody would find you here, in the middle of the forest!"

That was the point, actually. No one could see her doing this. But apparently, this place was favored by whoever he was supposed to be.

"I didn't die." She just came quite close to it.

"Yeah, but your chakra pool is practically empty!" Shit– she had forgotten to mask her chakra level. "I don't even know how you're still standing!"

"You must be mistaken. I'm perfectly fine." Sakura tried again. Maybe she could trick him into doubting his own sensing ability. She tried to subtly mask her chakra in a way that implied having a lot more left than she actually did.

"Stop that! Don't waste any more chakra!" Sakura clicked her tongue. He was a sensor too?

The boy was wearing a worried expression by now. Who was he kidding?

"You stop it. You aren't even worried for me, are you?" She shot back at him. "You clan people shouldn't bother with what civilians do. I got it, okay?" Sakura sighed. "You're all strong and know everything while I am weak and shouldn't even try to become a Shinobi. That's what you wanted to hear, right?"

For some reason, she couldn't stop the anger and frustration from bubbling up within her. She was reminded of all those times people had disregarded her abilities because of her civilian background. Maybe the chakra exhaustion was making her light-headed. Sakura had figured out that he was from a clan at some point during their conversation. Though a six-year old shouldn't know how to make a Shadow Clone, a 14-year old shouldn't yet, either. It wasn't part of the Academy curriculum. He must be from a clan, then. They were taught separately from the Academy at home.

The raven-haired boy looked shocked. She didn't understand. What was his problem? She had given him what he had wanted.

She took advantage of his distraction, pushing him with the little chakra she had left, and took off. Sakura felt weak on her legs as she walked towards the village center. The boy had been right about that. She shouldn't be standing. Only by pure willpower was she managing to walk at all.

But there was no way she was going to fall unconscious here. A place way too unsafe. Too subsceptible to attacks. The forest was beginning to clear and she spotted the road that led to the market.

If I hold out for a bit more–

Just then, she bumped into something. Or rather, someone.

The person let out a small gasp at their collision. They were taller than her, but not as tall as that boy from earlier. Sakura lifted her head.  What were all these people even doing here–?

She looked up and her heart froze right then and there.

Itachi Uchiha.

Chapter Text

"Why'd this have to happen to me?" Sakura whispered to herself as she looked down at the ground that was at least double the distance away it normally was, body dangling in the air from where Itachi was holding her up by her wrist. Why was he even so strong at that age?

She forced her instincts – screaming at her to run – to shut up. And, while internally repeating "He's not a threat yet, he never really was, he won't kill you", she ripped her eyes away from the patch of dirt she had been looking at and turned her gaze to his eyes, pitch black (and not blood-red). A part of her expected to see the hypnotic pattern of a spinning Mangekyō to stare back at her, and into the very depths of her soul. A part of her couldn't comprehend the idea of that man not having his Sharingan active at all times, trapping anyone foolish enough to look into the deep pits of crimson inside a living nightmare, slowly gnawing at the sanity of whoever dared to challenge him.

A memory of spinning Tomoe on the face of someone she could never get herself to hate briefly overlapped with what she was actually seeing, but Sakura quickly shook the hallucination away, instead concentrating on the face of a young – so young – Itachi Uchiha.

She had known that he had been young, at one point. Of course he had been. It wouldn't have made sense otherwise.

But something inside of her had never really considered the thought that the Itachi, the most dangerous missing-nin Konoha had ever produced, the murderer of the Uchiha, could have ever been an young boy, too. It felt surreal. That this child would grow up to do something like that. That he would still be a child when he would commit the Uchiha Massacre, one of the bloodiest events to go down in a hidden village that was supposed to be the 'nice one'. That someone would order a child to slaughter their own kin in cold blood. Because it was a slaughter, not a fight or a battle. When he had killed his parents, they hadn't fought back. Because they had accepted the decision Itachi had come to and only wished to protect their other son. They had known they would be killed eventually. Sasuke had never understood that part, even when he had told them the full tale of what had transpired that day, years after he found out himself. "Why did they give up?" he had asked angrily. Perhaps he would've never understood.

(But she understood what it meant to know about your assured death, apporaching ever closer until she could practically touch it. She was familiar with the thoughts that would cross one's mind when a loved one was in danger. And she knew what it felt like to make the decision to reach for one's inescapable fate, grab it, and pull it closer, if only to add that distance to the time another has left. 

She understood what it felt like to give up everything and welcome death with open arms, for she had seeen it coming for far longer than the short moment it took to meet the end and face the unavoidable)

Sakura felt disgusted. She looked away again, breaking the eye contact the both of them had been holding for way too long.

"Hm." Itachi thoughtfully hummed as she turned her head away from him.

"Oh, you caught her!" The boy from before suddenly appeared before her – and way too close at that –, earning himself a kick to the stomach, though he probably didn't even feel the force of it. Sakura's chakra was running dangerously low, and she refrained from using any more than was absolutely necessary.

"Woah, Woah! You can't just attack people!" The curly-haired boy raised his arms defensively.

Ignoring him, Sakura turned her gaze to Itachi yet again. "Let me down."

"No, Itachi! Don't!" was the reply she got instead, the other boy looking at Itachi with a pleading look on his face. "She almost escaped my grasp! Itachi, do you know what she was doing here?" He pointed another accusing finger at Sakura. "Jutsu! With that chakra pool! And she's like, what, 7 years old? She shouldn't be doing that!"

Itachi, who didn't seem bothered by the familiar way the other boy was talking to him – the heir of the Uchiha clan – gave her a long look, analyzing her messy hair (a result of re-familiarizing herself with her chakra, causing her to fall from the tree quite a few times) and the way her eyes were threatening to close every second (fuck, she needed to work on the chakra pool thing).

Finally, his assessment was, "Hn."

She glared at him. "Let. Me. Down."

"Hey, pink gril! Easy going there! We won't bite you." The other boy interrupted again.

"My arm hurts. Let me go."

Instead of letting her down, Itachi simply brought up his other arm and moved to hold her up by her waist, raising her to eye-level.

"Why." Sakura questioned him, this time vowing to not break the eye contact until Itachi would give in. It was surprisingly easy to convince herself that this boy and the terrifying enemy she had once faced were different people.

"You shouldn't do Jutsu at your age." Itachi's voice was, just like his face, and his eyes, and everything else about him, young. It kind of reminded her of Sasuke's voice, back when they were still Genin. It was, cold, confident, and had a hint of aloofness.

But, above all else, Itachi's voice was calm. Calmer than anything Sakura had ever heard.

She glared at him. "Don't bother. It's not your business."

"It's bad for young children."

"Well, you guys probably did that at my age too, right?" She crossed her arms.

"It's different."

"Why, because you're clan children? Do you get to be trained early on by your ninja parents, but I can't?"

"No."

She huffed. "Then what is it? What makes you different from me? Your pure Uchiha blood? The Sharingan?"

Before Itachi could reply, the other boy, who had turned quiet, interjected. "How do you know we're Uchiha?" He regarded her with confused eyes, running a hand through his black hair. And wait a minute– He was an Uchiha? It wasn't just Itachi? 

Sakura swallowed. That explained some things.

"It's obvious." She didn't say more than that. The two seemed to understand, though.

"Anyway." The boy clapped his hands together. "We aren't going to let you go just yet. How about introductions first?" He held out a hand. "I'm Shisui Uchiha."

As in, Shunshin no Shisui? Sakura wanted to punch someone, something, anything. Why did it have to be all these important people she would meet when going out to train?

She didn't take his hand. "Sakura Haruno."

What followed was a long talk about health and safe use of chakra. It was one every aspiring Shinobi was given at the Academy. Except, Sakura was being told so by two strangers, who had decided to take responsibility for the safety of a random child.

"You probably weren't told about this yet." Shisui finished, after a long rant about the need for supervision when trying new techniques at a young age. "When do they teach this at the Academy? Do you know, Itachi?"

Said boy didn't even get the chance to shake his head before Shisui made a knowing 'Ah' sound. "You wouldn't know, right? Since you graduated early, too." He laughed light-heartedly.

"Who laughs at their own joke?" Sakura muttered. She wanted to go home and pass out for twelve hours.

"Great question, Sakura-chan! It's me! I laugh at my own jokes!" Shisui pointed to himself. As soon as he had learned her name, he had started calling her by that nickname, as if they hadn't met 30 minutes ago at most.

Itachi sighed at Shisui's antics and Sakura couldn't help but agree with him. The boy in question however, didn't seem to notice this, and continued to chatter on. "But you didn't learn this yet, right? Unless they changed the Academy curriculum..."

"I don't go to the Academy." Sakura had found that out once she had learned of her actual age from her mother, which was not quite six-years old. 

"Huh?" Shisui looked confused. "Why?"

"I'm four." She looked at him in a way that said 'why would I, huh?'.

Itachi turned to Shisui at that. "She would join along with Sasuke, next April." Ah, so that was going to be his first contribution to the conversation in 10 minutes. Of course it would be about Sasuke.

Shisui looked even more confused. "Why were you doing Jutsu, then?"

Even the ever-so blank face of the Uchiha heir showed a hint of confusion at the boy's words.  

Sakura sighed. She really didn't want to tell these people that. "I don't go to the Academy. Not yet. But when I do, I know for a fact," Sakura paused, wondered if she wasn't giving away too much information, but nah, probably not, so she continued. "–that my class is going to be full of clan children and, most importantly, clan heirs."

She gave them a glance that almost looked judging if it weren't for the fact that it lasted only for a short moment. "Just like you two, they get training, way better one than the Academy teachings. I'm a civillian. My parents aren't Shinobi."

At that point, she didn't care that she was articulating herself with words way beyond her age. These people – or, at least one of them – had seen her make a Shadow Clone. It couldn't be too surprising for her to talk and act like an adult after that, right?

Sakura went on. "So, obviously, I'm going to fall back. Not with the Academy material, but with my peers. They are always going to be better than me. And I'm going to be one of the weak ones. Maybe I'd get sorted out after the first year, and then I would've lost my chance at becoming a Shinobi." She took a deep breath. "So that's why I'm training here." 

That was a lie, obviously. She could probably hold her own in the Academy class, simply by already having all of the knowledge they teach. Even in this weaker body, it would be possible.

But it was a reasonable explanation. The Academy was unique because it raised Shinobi, not adults. It didn't judge your capabilites by individual scores and grades, but instead determined it by comparing you to other students. Because the Village had no need for a Shinobi that would hold others of the same generation back due to a skill difference. Last time around, it had been her booksmarts that had earned her the spot of a Shinobi and the Kunoichi of the Year title.

The two older boys had turned awfully quiet, exchanging glances throughout Sakura's explanation. It wasn't strange for Itachi to be quiet, but not for the other – as Sakura had learned – louder boy. He was staring into the distance with a concentrated look. Itachi was frowning at her and, unexpectedly, the one to break the silence.

"You don't need to become a Shinobi."

"Yes, I do." She had to become one. Had to become strong and save the world.

Shisui seemed to reach a decision on whatever he had been pondering over.

"I can train you."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. He could train her. Yes, he could train her. Shunshin no Shisui could train her.

"Would you?" She asked.

Shisui grinned. "I should, if I don't want you to die from chakra exhaustion. It doesn't seem like I can stop you from training altogether, anyway."

Itachi sighed, as if wanting to say that that wasn't the point of this whole conversation. She nodded. This was an opportunity.

An opportunity to change something, become a strong person, sooner, faster.

Shisui, too, nodded. "Yeah, I should. Can't have you dying out here. How does every Friday sound to you, Sakura-chan? A four-year old can't have much to do, do you?"

Sakura briefly wondered what she would tell her mother. "Friday is good. Let's do that." She'd work something out. 

Shisui was overjoyed.

Turning to Itachi, Sakura asked for the umpteenth time: "Let me down now, please." And this time, he complied. Sakura's feet touched the ground for the first time in a while. She just wanted to leave, now.

Shisui placed a hand on her shoulder. "How about you eat dinner with us? Itachi's mom's cooking is heavenly. "

Itachi shot him a warning look. "You can't just invite yourself over. Or other people."

"Oh come on, Itachi! We're cousins, aren't we?" The boy dramatically placed a hand to his chest "And Sakura-chan is so exhausted from her secret little training, what if she falls unconscious on the way home?"

Itachi didn't look convinced, so Shisui turned to her again. "You want to come eat dinner with us, right? Right?"

"Yeah, no."

Sakura promptly turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Shisui to half-yell, half-cry at her to come back.

But she wasn't going to eat dinner with the Uchiha main family.

No way in hell.

Chapter Text

Sakura went training the next day too, which was probably the opposite of what Shisui was hoping to achieve by offering to train her.

But Sakura was a medic. She knew when to stop, when to take a rest, how much chakra to use, before it would become dangerous. She knew exactly how to become stronger just fast enough for there to not be any risk of permanently damaging this young body.

It was a curse and a blessing.

She needed to get used to being much smaller, needed to get used to having infinitely low stamina and chakra, needed to get used to being weak. But, at the same time, it was an opportunity. An opportunity to re-do everything, an opportunity to use up every bit of potential she had ever had, an opportunity to do all those things she had wished she had done earlier, an opportunity to go further, achieve more, become better than she had ever hoped to be in her last life.

Yes, she was weaker. But Sakura Haruno was a master in working with little possibilities and a difficult situation.

Though unwillingly and accidentally, she'd gotten this second chance, and she was going to make it count.

“Where have you been going to?”

Sakura resisted the urge to cough violently at those words, instead forcing the orange juice down her throat before she accidentally spat it out. She looked up from the glass, which she had likely been staring into for too long, to muster Yūta seated across from her. “Whaddaya mean?”

“You've been going out more, you know.” Yūta was looking at her with something akin to worry on his face. Huh. “Kāsan said you're meeting a friend. Kei–... something.”

“It's Keito! How can't you remember my friend's name, huh?!" She tried changing the topic.

Her brother – since he probably was her brother, as she had concluded at some point – grinned and muttered a half-sincere apology. "Well, anyway. That wasn't the point. What are you doing with this friend of yours, hm? Won't you tell me, Blossom?"

"We play!"

"What do you play?"

"Uh... a lot of things! Like– Like catch, and hide an' seek, and looking at pretty flowers..." Was that enough? Why did he want to know so much? Yūta didn't seem satisfied by her answer. He just looked more worried, concern apparent on his face. He muttered something inaudible under his breath before setting down his glass of orange juice and giving her a serious look.

"You aren't being honest with me." He stated in an equally serious tone. Damn it. How did he know? Sakura tensed up. Had he, too, seen her training? But he would've surely come out if he had been there, right? She ran through a dozen theories and questions, finally settling on feigning ignorance and not giving away more than Yūta may actually know. That he had bothered to ask meant he didn't know everything, perhaps he only had a suspicion.

"Why would I lie, Nīchan?" The other Sakura had probably called him that, right? Sakura hoped she did, trying not to show how tense she was.

"You're not telling me everything. I know that." Yūta simply said, the gaze in his bright green eyes unwavering. "I'm not saying that you are lying." He added, seeing the (fake) tears welling up in his younger sister's eyes.

Then he crossed his arms, and Sakura briefly wondered why this kind of situation had been a common occurrence lately.

"Now, actually tell me. I just want to know," He took a long breath, brows knitted together in worry. "–why your chakra pool is always depleted when you come back."

Oh, shi–

"–ave you started doing Ninjutsu without my knowledge? Sacchan, I've told you it's dangerous. You know you can't just–"

Sakura's mind was racing. She hadn't expected him to know. She hadn't expected him to be able to tell when she had used chakra. She hadn't been careful enough, had let her guard down, because–...

Because only Ninja and natural-born sensors should be able to. But Yūta wasn't... He shouldn't... How could he...? How did he know?

"Sakura!" Yūta suddenly gasped, eyes wide in pretended shock. "How do I know? Of course I know!"

Sakura then realized she had said that last question out loud and wanted to smack herself. Yūta went on with his show, seemingly content for now with the scolding he had given her. She didn't relax yet, though. "I'm a Shinobi!"

He was a what?

She tried not to gape since it seemed like she was supposed to know already. Sakura didn't just have an older brother now, but one that was a Shinobi? Her mind felt like it was going to burst from all the questions it had needed to store up these past days.

"Oh, really? I think I forgot, 'cause you're un-cool." She needed to buy time.

That last statement earned her another gasp from Yūta. She took a sip of her orange juice to avoid talking any more and consequently revealing her lack of knowledge on her older brother's career as a Ninja.

The brother in question seemed to take her silence as his cue to continue talking. "Sacchan, I'm actually really cool, you know? You just don't understand my coolness because you've never seen me in action–..." He paused suddenly, looking over Sakura's small form, her young face. "–But you don't really need to see that kinda stuff yet... Oh, right!"

Sakura wanted to sigh. He really couldn't let go of that topic, huh? Yūta was apparently just as persistent and hard-headed as her.

Then there was a cold hand on her shoulder. Were his hands always this cold, she wondered. And now, Yūta had that worried look again, speaking considerably more softly than before. "Hey... Can't you tell me what you're doing? You can tell me the truth."

"I–..."

It was time to act out the plan she had thought up during the few minutes she had been able to distract Yūta. Older brother or not, he couldn't know that she was secretly training. It was already bad enough that Shisui and Itachi knew. Sakura let some more tears well up in her eyes – grateful for her knowledge as a medic – and soon she had big, crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks as she pitifully sniffled. "'m not lying...! Nīchan, why won'tchu believe me?"

She glanced through her eyelashed to see Yūta looking quite distressed with the outcome of the situation, as he shuffled over to come sit next to her. "Sacchan– sorry for getting angry earlier. That's not what I meant–" He lifted a hand to wipe away the tears, but Sakura slapped it away, making an effort to sob some more.

"I don't know why you think I'm lyin'... I really– I really was just playing with Keito! Nīchan, do you hate me?"

Yūta was looking more stressed by the second, nervously lifting a hand, and letting it drop again, only to end up having both hovering in the air, unsure what to do with them.

Sakura continued quietly spilling tears. Now, it was time to carefully spin a tale to ease Yūta's suspicions.

Chapter Text

Acting like it cost her every last bit of willpower to speak, Sakura quieted down the sobs slightly and looked at her brother with tearful eyes. "We were– We were really just playing! Keito brought the–... But he said it's okay! He– He had stickers th– that glowed and we–"

"Hold up. What did he bring?" Yūta immediately perked up at the mention of the 'stickers', taking the bait she had placed. He looked suspicious. Sakura sniffled once, twice, and looked a bit confused at the seemingly random question. Then she continued.

"Stickers! They– They glowed! And they could make an ocean!" Sakura, concluding that she had cried enough for now, stopped scrunching up her face and let a more joyful expression cross her face. "We– We gave the flowers water! Keito said, 'ts not raining enough nata– naturral– naturalley, so we need to help." Then, to add finish it off, she said "When we make rain with... with the stickers, I feel really tired, so I say bye to Keito an' go home."

By now, anyone with even a bit of real experience as a shinobi would know that those weren't just 'stickers', as was obvious by the look of worry marring Yūta's face.He seemed to gather his thoughts somewhat and asked carefully, "How did the stickers look? How big were they?"

"Uhm... They're about... this big." Sakura estimated the size of a common ninja tag and showed it with her hands. "In the middle, they have this symbol on them." She paused, looking as though in thought. "And there's squiggly lines, lots of them. Keito showed me how to make them glow. 'Cuz it's really cool, you know, Nīchan? It's like a big wave like in the picture books. Like a– Like an ocean!"

"How do you make them glow, Sacchan? Can you show me?" Hm, so that was how he was going to approach the situation? Maybe trying to see what this made-up friend had taught her?

Not dropping the act, she nervously asked: "But you won't be mad, right, Nīchan? Keito said–... He said I can't show anyone. Secret between us."

Yūta nodded reassuringly. He continued to look painfully worried, though a hint of anger was beginning to show. She almost felt bad.

Sakura closed her eyes, pretending to be greatly concentrating. She gathered up some chakra, making sure to have around two-thirds of her current chakra reserves leak as byproducts that had 'escaped her grasp' before focusing the rest on her open palm. The only sign of it was the light blue glow, but she was sure Yūta had followed her chakra flow throughout the whole process. Doing this, she'd used up quite a lot of it due to the 'reckless' use and excess chakra that had gone to waste, making it seem like someone had failed to teach her correctly, not explained the theory behind it, or not bothered to correct her on her 'habit'. (Of course, she'd never allow herself to expend any amount of chakra life-threatening to her. Having Kakashi as her teacher taught her quite a bit about responsible use of it.)

Sakura didn't let any of her excitement at successfully completing most of the plan show, instead looking at her brother with expectant eyes. "Keito said, I need to show all my friends how to make the stickers glow! For the flowers." she exclaimed, smiling at Yūta. Said brother was looking critically at the wall behind her, all of the amusement from earlier now gone. His lips were in a grim line as he finally spoke.

"Take me to this Keito guy." He said. Too bad that Keito didn't exist.

"I don't think I can, Nīchan." She said quietly, seemingly sensing his seriousness and clenching the hem of her shirt.

Yūta looked angry, fury contorting his face. "Why? Did he tell you not to do that, too?"

"N– No."

"What is it, then? Why can't I meet him?"

"He left Konoha, I think. Keito isn't from here, he lives far away."

"How old is Keito?"

"Sorry, Nīchan. I don't know... Never asked him." She guiltily said. "But he is definitely older than you!"

"Can you describe him further? Did he wear a headband?"

"Ah– no, I don't think so. He said he wants to become a shinobi, though. Actually, he wants it since really long ago."

"A shinobi of Konoha?"

"Uh... I think he said Konoha...? Why do you ask? Do they have Academies elsewhere, too? 'Cuz Keito said that he failed the 'xam."

"He failed the exam?"

"Yeah! I think he failed them... three times?"

"I see." She could almost see the gears turning in Yūta's mind. "Do you know where he went?"

Sakura pretended to think for a bit. Yūta was handling the situation quite well, considering that his younger sister had apparently met some strange man who had purposefully – perhaps with malicious intent – taught her wrong techniques. And he himself couldn't be that much older than her.

She pretended to remember something, then. "I think he said he wants to go to Ki... ri...? I think that's what he said."

She internally nodded to herself. Yeah, Kiri was a good choice. Ruled by the tyrannical Mizukage, it was far enough away and a reasonable choice for someone seeking to become stronger through other means, but too dangerous to confirm it being a lie altogether.

Yūta nodded, looking more serious than ever. She thought she heard him whisper "a spy..?", but couldn't be sure.

"He didn't say more, though. Do you have some stickers, Nīchan? I wanna make them glow."

Yūta had promptly told her never to use her chakra like that again, informing her of the dangers of it.

"I don't want to tell you when you're so young, but..." He had said and went on about how chakra was important to keep the body, her body, alive. Yūta told her that she could've died and that she shouldn't trust the word of someone that wasn't qualified. Upon further asking, he explained that 'Keito' had likely tried teaching something he himself didn't know enough about and endangered her in the process. Maybe that had been his aim from the beginning, went unsaid. He had then shoved her into her room to go sleep and replenish her chakra reserves.

The story wasn't great, Sakura could've probably come up with something better if she had been given more time.

But it allowed her to write off any further mishaps as her trying to use 'stickers' again, though she could only do that a few times before being prohibited from leaving the house entirely. And she had a valid reason to make Keito disappear from her life, since he had started taking on quite a big role, her mother asking to meet him every time she used her imaginary friend as an excuse to go out. And any knowledge on shinobi or chakra that she shouldn't have or didn't exist in this alternative reality, she could claim to be just another one of Keito's stories.

She had given her brother quite a scare. Maybe it hadn't been the best choice, but it could prove to be useful in the future, covering up her sudden personality change smoothly. It was already bad enough that Yūta noticed anything amiss at all.

She had let her guard down, relaxed too much around a potential enemy, simply because he claimed to be family. This is bad. She wouldn't be able to change anything like this. She was too weak, had gotten too soft, had started forgetting the horror of the war. She had gotten her hopes up after meeting Shisui and had wished it could continue to be easy like that.

But it wasn't like that. Her goal was grand, her plans too big for someone like her, clinging to hope after having supposedly given up. She couldn't let something like earlier happen again. She needed to take this more seriously, Sakura decided then and there.

Chapter Text

"Obasan?" the boy – but really, he couldn't be called that anymore. Not with the blood coating his hands, – asked, swirling a spoon in his teacup. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hm... It's rather unusual for you to ask me questions." the older woman hummed. "Go ahead."

"I don't understand women. No– girls."

Silence. Then, a chuckle. "To think I would get to hear you say those words." The woman raised her teacup to her mouth. "Now, this is an interesting turn. Have you finally met the one? Perhaps a heartbreaker, just like you?"

"No, not like that." He was flustered.

"Are you sure?"

"Definetely. It's not anything... love-related."

"Well, that's unfortunate. But what is it, then?"

Deciding that this topic called for a more serious situation, he got rid of his casual, bored expression and sat a little more upright, letting go of the teaspoon. "I met this girl..." He started, his mind running through several ways he could explain the situation to his aunt without revealing too much. Tensions between members of the Konoha Military Police Force and civilians outside the clan were rising, and his aunt was married to the leader of the Police Force. He had yet to deduce exactly which side she was on in this whole ordeal.

Said woman, sensing the severity of his tone and perhaps wanting to lighten the mood, asked, "How old is she?"

The boy blinked as his mind that had been wandering was thrown back into the present. "She's young. Four, I thi– But! That's not the point."

Mikoto didn't say anything, simply watching him in silent acceptance to hear him out.

So, he started. Again. "The girl—I found her training in the woods—said she'd join the Academy."

"So in a class with Sasuke."

Shisui stopped himself from mentioning that Itachi had said the same thing, not wanting to give away his older cousin's involvement.

"Yeah... in April. I asked why she'd train if she was going to learn it all soon anyway. You see, she was all alone in the forest, and her training methods were more than 'just risky' and also unsuited for a child of her age. According to her, it's preparation for the Academy. To ensure she won't fall back in a class of clan heirs. But, the way she trained... It wasn't just preparation."  He took a deep breath, deciding that his next statement couldn't be sugarcoated. "It reminded me... of someone preparing for war. Someone who was working with a time-limit and knew it. Someone seeking to become stronger just fast enough to survive, but not caring for long-term damages." He knew that train of thought all too well.

His aunt's expression didn't change visibly. But he knew that her surprise and bemusement were carefully concealed underneath that guise of calmness. It was just like Itachi, he thought.

"But it isn't something she needed to do. She doesn't need to do... all of that. We're not in war, her generation is the first to grow up in complete peace. It puzzled me—it does now, too—which is why I questioned her." Strictly speaking, it had been Itachi, not him. But the two thought more alike than others thought. If Itachi hadn't asked, Shisui would've done it.
"She doesn't have to become a shinobi. She doesn't need to go to such lengths."

Mikoto, ever the graceful Clan Matriarch, didn't lose her unperturbed composure, though she never broke eye contact with him, a sign of her unwavering attention. Shisui wondered what she would be like had she awakened the Sharingan.

But there was his question, so he resumed. "She– immediately denied it. As if not becoming a Shinobi was never an option. As if her very life depended on this ambition. As if... she couldn't even consider, nor imagine the thought. But Obasan, why would she think that? Is there really a need to become a Shinobi in this era of peace?"

There was a reason why he'd gone to her specifically. For one, Mikoto was family. Family, on a different level from the relations he had with his fellow clan members. Secondly, she was one of the wisest women Shisui knew, working alongside her husband to lead the clan, while also managing to not turn into an emotionless block of ice, instead maintaining the ability to communicate properly with human beings, quite unlike his uncle. Consequently, she had begun functioning as the social part of the Uchiha Clan Head, playing the role of the 'nice' one in a display of everlasting patience, albeit never revealing her true emotions.
And the last reason was that she was a woman, and Shisui had been working on this mystery for some time, enough to consider the possibility that it was Sakura-chan being a girl that made it so difficult to wrap his head around her thoughts and actions.

Slowly, his aunt started talking, looking deeply thoughtful. "You don't know her well, do you? If I'm seeing this correctly, you have yet to meet her again, and I haven't even done that, making my thoughts on this no more than hypotheses, assumptions if you may."

Shisui nodded.

"But, judging from your description, and believing it to be unbiased, I speculate that this girl has a rather... twisted sense of reality, maybe influenced by the people around her, causing her to have been led to adapt a misbelief. One of urgent need to become stronger and join the Shinobi ranks. But we can't tell for sure where or how those training methods were first given to her and when they started to be perceived as the correct approach to reach her goal."

Huh, that made a lot of sense.

"On another note, I am very sure that this degree of ambition is a product of outside interference, since a typical—four-year-old, you said?—is quite unlikely to be so willing to take risks. The most likely candidates would be her parents or a parental figure that fed her lies. However, it is possible that this goal was already established to some extent when the interference influenced her to take such measures. Perhaps a strong sense of justice, a role model to look up to, a promise she's hoping to have fulfilled when becoming a ninja, or another goal to be approached after becoming kunoichi that she has in mind."

Shisui was incredibly grateful to have decided to ask his aunt (and quite proud of himself to seek some advice), because he was sure to not have ever reached this much insight on the situation. Mikoto was truly smart.

"Nevertheless, we have to consider the worst possibility, which is the girl actually knowing something and thus preparing for a war." Shisui gulped at that, the thought having also crossed his mind. But he hadn't wanted to consider it too deeply. Not that the wife of a Clan Head could afford to give someone the benefit of doubt.

"She could be a spy," she continued without hesitation, "or at least have heard something from a spy, implying an event that required even young children joining the ranks as swiftly as possible. I trust you to know what to do if that were to be true, Shisui." With that, she took a sip of her long-cold tea and smiled softly, the very picture of elegance. "But alas, this is all just speculation. Do not take the words of an old woman too seriously, Shisui."

"Oh no, Obasan! You are still too young to call yourself an old woman!" Shisui quickly slipped back into the role of the charismatic and funny teenager, acting like the previous conversation never happened to begin with.

Sakura Haruno. A mysterious girl, indeed.

It had been the right choice to offer her training and keep an eye on her.

So, Sakura summarized mentally, I fucked up. Not just once, but twice in a row. And she couldn't blame it on her needing to adjust, having to get accustomed to living in the past, or the seemingly random changes in this world.
Oh no, she knew exactly why.

The thing that had caused her to be caught on two separate occasions while doing something she shouldn't know of or attempt; it was—and had always been—her biggest enemy.

Not Madara, not Kaguya, not Zetsu, but her own fear.

Sakura was a medic. She could do extensive and thorough evaluations, could analyze and memorize the human body on a molecular level. And that was just when talking about her patients. While there were things she simply couldn't know about the body, build, or condition of others, that restriction didn't exist with her own body.

She knew, better than anyone else, just how indescribably weak she was. Hell, she had checked herself. She, the one to be called the best Iryō-nin in the future. There was no way she had made a mistake. Not when it was glaring at her like a big, glowing sign.

Why even attempt to do anything with this body?, It taunted.

Sakura wanted to glare back. Sneer at it, and prove it wrong. But she didn't, couldn't. Because it was true. She was so, so weak. Weaker than ever, weaker than she had been even last time around.

It made her scared, anxious. It had her wanting to curl up and hide in her mother's warm and alive embrace, and hope someone else would do the job for her. She feared the future and the fact that only she could change it. She feared not being able to accomplish anything. She feared dying a meaningless death—again—without having done anything. (Because this time, she had sworn to try until the very end. She wouldn't give up like that again. But what would be the point of all her ambition if the outcome would be the same?) She feared not being able to become strong anymore.

She feared that she would remain weak.

So, she had gotten reckless, had wanted to prove herself—her own assessment—wrong and show that she could still be something. She had trained harshly, pushing the limits of her young—and so weak—body. Guised under the excuse of wanting to check her current arsenal and what she could attempt in an actual fight, she had created a Shadow Clone. And let herself be seen, caught.

The Shadow Clone had only further confirmed her first conclusion. Perhaps she couldn't become stronger than last time, after all. Perhaps she couldn't even become as strong.

Which is why she had jumped at the opportunity to get out of this miserable situation. She had been offered training by a genius—a prodigy even—someone to be remembered for years and decades after his death ('suicide' the book had said. Sakura had wondered if this person's suicide was connected to the Uchiha Massacre that would happen only weeks later. She had wondered if this person knew what would happen. But questions weren't always tolerated—most of the time, even—she had learned. Especially when the topic was that.).

Looking back, it was highly suspicious for Shisui Uchiha to want to train her. She had let her guard down after seeing how unlike other Uchiha—usually stern, stoic, and cold—he was. Why would he do that? What was his intention, his actual aim? He could have all kinds of goals he hoped to accomplish by offering to help her 'prep for the Academy'. Many of which could come back to bite her later. But now she had agreed. And Sakura wasn't sure if she would've done it differently, were she given the choice again.

A drowning man will clutch at a straw, they say.

Chapter Text

Sakura's top priority at the moment was to avoid detection. She shouldn't bother taking on huge goals if she was going to be caught before ever achieving something. So stealthiness, it was.

That included hiding that this four-year-old Sakura Haruno had been swapped with her, a grown adult. She was confident in her ability to act the part because of experience (years of pretending to be unbothered by sly remarks about her upbringings, acting like she was supposed to, a collected and reliable medic, as if she wasn't slowly breaking apart, every death to her name a weight crushing her shoulders—), and she still had a cover story, 'Keito', to back her up.

But most importantly, she needed to keep the people aware of her training to a minimum, which she had already semi-failed at. Well, only technically speaking.

She couldn't have prevented Shisui and Itachi from knowing in order to secure another way to expand her skillset. And although Yūta was a stranger to her, not to mention someone she couldn't predict reactions of since he never existed in her timeline, she had somehow managed to evade his suspicion. Of course, that was assuming she had successfully tricked him.

So, strictly speaking, she had yet to be caught and had only got really close to it.

Besides, Shisui didn't know the full extent of her abilities—not even a fraction of it, actually. Only knowing the things Sakura had accidentally shown him and whatever she would decide to showcase to him in two days' time, at their first training session, he wasn't a threat yet. The most he could do right now was accuse her of being a child prodigy, which she would prefer over being found out as a time-traveler slash dimension-hopper any day.

However, her own personal training—which she wasn't going to lessen now that she was going to receive training separately—along with her rapid improvement and understanding of chakra and the workings of the human body—all of which she couldn't excuse as prodigal talent. It had to be hidden from the world, concealed in a way nobody would even think to raise suspicions.

In a way, she had experienced it first-hand already.

Naruto had gotten away with being aware of and using the Kage-bunshin back then. People either didn't know how strange and suspicious that was or didn't care because it was Naruto. What could he do to endanger the village? Because, really, it wasn't Naruto they were afraid of, even though they claimed to despise him just as much as the Kyūbi. It was the threat that he posed, the thing that he could become, the monster lurking within, that they were terrified of.

To them, Naruto, the nine-tailed in human form, had been a ticking bomb that could decimate the village in a matter of minutes if the beast managed to escape. A truly terrifying outcome.

Then there had been Naruto, the troublemaker, the Dead Last, the failure. Not even being able to keep up a simple clone, he had been the laughingstock of his class. Could he even kill a fly?

The ever-present threat of the Kyūbi—the remnants of the attack of twelve years ago looming over the masses like a silent reminder that they couldn't let their guard down, ever. And Naruto Uzumaki, a gullible and naive boy with unreachable, unreasonable, impossible goals and one strong-willed mind. Someone who was destined to trip on his own self-confidence before he could ever pose a threat to someone.

The comparison of the two opposites made the change to Naruto's arsenal—this strange technique that didn't attack nor defend, instead, seeming kind of useless at first, inexperienced glance—seem insignificant.

What did the Dead Last learning how to clone himself properly—like all other Shinobi his age—matter when he was hosting a monstrous beast inside of him? Many noticed, saw it themselves, but the fewest cared. It was simply easier to go along with the flow, to follow the crowd.

There had been bigger things to worry about, both concerning the boy and outside conflicts that were completely unrelated. So, nobody had been suspicious but a select few. Keen people like Kakashi or the Hokage—the people that the situation was actually working in favor of. The very people that had been taught to doubt and question everything didn't bother doing that when it came to Naruto, specifically.

They remained uncaring—because they weren't ignorant; of course, a Shinobi never was, especially with how Naruto was spitting out Shadow Clones left and right. They were not even considering being suspicious of how he had gotten it in the first place and what the constant spamming and creating hundreds of them at once could mean for his capabilities, his potential.

When the nine-tailed beast was sealed inside of him, ready to pounce if it was set free, it was hardly important that Naruto the boy had acquired the Shadow Clone Jutsu.

And, really, it couldn't be that important, could it?

Concealment in plain sight. In a way, nobody would even think to raise suspicions.

Sakura could use that.

She took out the notebook she had bought with her meager pocket money the day before after training.

Starting a list, encrypted in a code that only the commanders of the Shinobi Alliance knew, of course, she wrote down:

Goals:

Underneath that,

• Prevent Kaguya, the war, save the world.

Her pen stilled as she reread the words and actually took them in.
A few days ago, when she had first woken up here, she had, immediately and without hesitation, decided to take this path to uncertainty and save everyone. But, honestly speaking, Sakura hadn't truly thought this out yet.

Writing it down like this made her wonder.

Isn't that too grand of a goal? Preventing Kaguya, a goddess? It was just like she had once said herself, years ago. Back when they had been able to afford to idly chatter and waste away time.

It's inevitable.

Theorizing with Kakashi and the others had been nice, but what did all of that, all of her new-found determination matter, if it was all going to happen anyway? Could she, a lowly and short-lived human, really save the world? Wasn't this goal too far above her?

And then a thought crossed her mind.

No, not just a thought. It was the thought. The one she had locked away, had been pushing down every time it threatened to bubble up and ruin everything. And suddenly, her hands were moving, all on their own.

• Go back home

Sakura sucked in a sharp breath, hissing as if she had touched fire.

Her mind was numb; everything she had been carefully stocking away for later, when she was strong again, suddenly meaningless. Only one thought, one idea, kept moving in circles around her mindscape.

"Go... back?" she muttered, and suddenly, it became a possibility. Perhaps she could.

They — someone — had managed to send her back here, or rather, into this alternate universe. What prevented her from trying to reverse the process? Turn around, go back the same way she had come, and return to—

Return to where?

It was a world where half the people she loved were dead. A world where everyone had lost hope, only striving to survive another hour, perhaps even to the next day. A world where people wouldn't recognize her deeds or understand her thoughts, lashing out at her because surely the medic wouldn't mind. It was a world where so many died every day that she couldn't find the strength to retaliate against condemning looks. After all, they had been living in a world where everyone was bound to die anyway.

A world she had—

"I willingly left it, didn't I?"

Sakura had died. Thrown herself in front of Naruto, the only one to still truly believe in a happy end where everyone could live normally again. She had been dying, and she hadn't tried to prevent it.

She stared at the words written on the pristine white paper, something that was hardly left in the world she had once lived in. What was there to go back to?

She picked up her pen again, applying an unnecessary amount of pressure while drawing a thick, black line.

• G̶o̶ b̶a̶c̶k̶ h̶o̶m̶e̶

This is stupid.

Foolish her to think she could ever go back, not to mention want to go back.

She circled the first point, her main goal, and started writing again.

1. Avoid detection

Sakura would need to hide her progress once it started showing up. There was the method from earlier, but that could wait, needed to be considered more thoroughly.

There were things she could be sure about, though. Things that needed to happen now.

• conceal chakra at all times

And the matter of the Byakugō. She would need to start with storing up her chakra soon if she wanted to have it available as soon as possible. (She didn't dare to admit that she felt naked, empty without it. It was simply a seal, after all. Less of a body part than her own, dyed-brown hair. But to her, it wasn't just that. Hadn't been just that. The Byakugō had saved her, spared her from a fate she hadn't yet—couldn't have—accepted. So, how was she supposed to live without it now? What if she had to fight? What if she died? Again? Did she still want it? Could she still accept it like that time?)

But before she could even start creating the Byakugō, Sakura needed to figure out how to hide it.

• Bangs

She crossed it out. Bad idea. Too unreliable.

• Headband around forehead

That would work, but only once she actually got her headband. And a bandana or hairband would be too easy to get loose, too risky.

• Genjut

That wouldn't work either. Too much chakra consumption. Not possible with her reserves. She crossed it out before she even finished the thought. Next. What else?

• Prevent symbol from showing up

Too complicated and not worth the risk of failing and losing years of work.

• makeup

Not suited for training. Sweat would cause it to dissolve.

• waterproof makeup?

No.

Sakura paused.

The only other thing she could come up with was rather bizarre.

• change placement of seal

Sakura already had experience dealing with it; she had already gone through the process once. The actual seal was a bit tricky to move, and the forehead was chosen precisely because it was easiest to direct chakra there. What that meant for her? Moving the Byakugō wasn't impossible, just impossibly hard.

But she was Sakura Haruno, the best medic to live. Hell, she had time-traveled. Why wouldn't it be possible for her?

Huh.

Maybe this could work, she thought.

Chapter Text

The gray, rough paint of the walls was showing signs of neglect and starting to peel. Her father had put it up years ago, as was obvious by the clearly unprofessionally done work. The living room was bare, she concluded yet again. The empty vases in the corner had hypnotic engravings on them in a darker shade than the rest of the beige body of the vases. A wandering merchant had sold those to her mother once.

There were holes drilled into the walls all over the room with varying spacing between them, indicating what kind of hung-up decoration could have used to fill those places; Paintings opposite the table and next to the couch, a board to store jars on below the sink. 

Just above the door that led to the kitchen, one still had a nail sticking out of it. A clock used to be there. Should be there.

The house was accessorized with monotonous colors and sparse decorations. From the walls to the vases to the missing paintings and clock.

But she knew that the sad, grayish color of the walls was a remnant of what used to be a soft rose and that the vases had always been decorated with bright and colorful flowers. She knew that there had been one huge painting of the beach of a beautiful, faraway land and one depicting a city full of bright rooftops and pillars shooting up to the sky.

She didn't just know it; she remembered it.

After all, it was the house she had lived in for more than a decade, once upon a time. Everything, this whole house, was filled with things she knew and was familiar with.

Yet, everything was different. Slightly different. Something was always missing.

Her wrist ached. It had become duller and more bearable, compared to the throbbing, sharp pain that had had her mind spinning earlier.

Perhaps she shouldn't have undergone the first step of the process so soon. The process of manifesting the Byakugō seal. Her body was that of a child, which meant less pain tolerance. And the first time, back when she had been thirteen and greedy for power, it had left her unable to move for three hours. Even afterwards, her limbs had been numb and her head dizzy.

"That's the price of creating a seal so close to your brain, Sakura." Tsunade had said that day.

At least she didn't lose coordination of her body this time, Sakura mused. Truth be told, that had been the worst part of it, though she hadn't admitted it in fear of being called naive— (because how to maintain calmness when captured and how to free oneself was taught in the second year of the Academy as one of the core lessons of the third chapter. And Sakura should at least be able to deal with not being in control of her body in a safe environment, right? If that upset her and made her panic, how was she supposed to protect the others and bring Sasuke-kun home? How was she supposed to make Shishō proud? So she clenched her teeth and remained quiet, because anything else would make her weak and childish.)

[Earlier]

The thing they didn't tell you about the Byakugō was the beginning.

It was a seal, after all. Concentrating chakra on one small, diamond-shaped point wasn't going to do the trick. Though it was exactly that for the latter part of the process, which also took the longest time. But just accumulating energy was not enough. There was a precise procedure one had to follow for the Byakugō seal to be allowed to form in the first place.

The seal had to be sketched. Or, rather, etched.

Simple paint was too easy to smear and ruin years of work. Worst case, if the user had already accumulated high amounts of chakra, the energy that is set free could permanently damage the brain. Hence the danger of a seal on the forehead, as Tsunade had lectured her once.

For the drawing of the seal, chakra would be molded into the shape of a fine needle that engraved the symbols through layers of skin into the skull. Only that way could the seal be properly and without risk of damage—to the seal, of course, since such a procedure assumed the user to be able to heal any damage to the body—be sketched.
To thirteen-year-old Sakura's surprise, the outcome had made concentrating the chakra greatly easier than usual because the distance between the pathways and the skull was shorter and less complicated to cross than the distance needed to reach the surface of the skin when, for example, healing. 

The cost of those perks was unimaginable pain, a sensation unlike any other, and having to stop herself from flinching away or trying to end the suffering as the very bones in her body were being etched with the complicated seal that the Byakugō was.

"That's what power means, my apprentice. Nothing comes without a cost. You told me once that you wanted to become stronger. You won't give up that easily, am I wrong? Will pain make you throw away this opportunity when you could become that much stronger?"

"No, Tsunade-Shishō. Never, Tsunade-Shishō."

Tsunade had patted her shoulder then. "That's my girl. Now, off you go. Get some rest. Tomorrow you can start with the fun part."

Back then, she couldn't have imagined going through it again; experiencing that again. But Sakura wasn't thirteen anymore.

She had goals she had to fulfill. Goals that were so far away right now that they seemed unreachable. However, if there was one thing Naruto had taught her, it was the fact that everything was possible through trial and error and with just enough unyielding determination.

(Almost everything.)

Her chosen placement for the seal had been her inner wrist. Left wrist. Other candidates had been her thigh, her chest, or her hip, but those turned out to be unsuited for one reason or another. But it was mainly because of the thickness of the flesh and muscle inbetween her chakra needle and the bone, or because the area she'd have available for the engraving was too small or not dense enough. There had been a reason why the forehead had been chosen by Mito Uzumaki, the founder.

And, worst-case scenario, if her changes to the formula backfired on her, Sakura would be able to cut off her hand and move on. She couldn't do that as easily with her leg, for example.

But, as Sakura had concluded, the Byakugō was simply too noticeable and well-known in its diamond shape to be anywhere near safely hidden on her forehead. Changing the placement required some modifications to the seal that she painfully figured out over the course of a total of twelve hours, spread over two Shadow Clones and herself, when she wasn't gone to keep up the four-year-old facade.

During that time, Sakura and each of her Clones grumbled some variation of the sentence "If only Naruto or Sai were here." at least five times, while slowly unraveling the workings of the original seal and questioning which parts to leave as they were and which would blast her hand off at the slightest pulse of chakra. In the end, the seal was not really finished and far from perfect, but it probably wouldn't go up in flames or something.

It was recommended, as documented by Mito, to have someone else do the engraving since precise and unwavering control was needed. Not many could retain such focus while under high levels of pain.

But Sakura was the successor to Tsunade the Slug Princess, granddaughter of Mito. Sakura had healed hundreds of people at once by providing controlled amounts of chakra to the summoned fractions of Katsuyu all while fighting and fending off the armies of revived Shinobi and Zetsu.

She would manage. Probably.

There wasn't anyone inside Konoha—or even the Land of Fire, depending on Shishō's current location—that she could trust to do this job anyway.

So she'd do the procedure herself.

And hypothetically, besides the pain and needing to keep being focused all throughout, there wasn't anything that spoke against it working, right?

After three gruesome hours of slowly but somewhat steadily working her way through the seal and another two hours of lying flat on her back while trying to ignore the throbbing of her arm and the emptiness of her chakra coils, she left the room in which the air had become too stuffy.

Due to it being October—as she had informed herself some time ago because time was of the essence—she didn't need to worry about hiding the bandage around her wrist. After all was said and done, some things couldn't be avoided with this kind of procedure. Such as spilling blood and leaving a wound that Sakura didn't have her mentor around to heal up this time.

Tomorrow, she'd meet Shisui again. And there was one thing she needed to know before that.

Jade-green eyes followed the movement of a pink head of hair as it scurried around the room. He kept his shoulder-length hair in a low, short ponytail. It was a more muted tone of rose than her own soft one, just like their (late) father. Sometimes he came back with a braid at the side.

He'd come back from missions, she now knew. Sakura's eyes narrowed.

While she could accept minor changes to their house decor and how well it was maintained, Yūta was a completely different story.

She didn't have a brother; she had never even had siblings. So, how was he here?

"Hey, Sacchan." He suddenly whipped around from where he had been facing his back towards her at the cupboard. "Would you tell me what has you glaring at your Nīchan like he personally insulted your favorite stuffed animal?" He tilted his head in a lazy manner, looking slighly offended.

"I'm not glaring at you! It's called concentrating." she exclaimed in an outraged tone fitting of a young child easily angered.

"Then, our definitions of concentration must be different. I once read in a book though that what you were doing was 'frowning'."

"I'm not frowning, you are! See how you've been running around the room since forever? That's frowning!"

The corner of his lips twitched, and his eyes glinted with humor. "Fair, I guess."

It was easier than thought to fall into a state of bickering with this should-be stranger. Perhaps Sakura was getting sentimental and reminding herself of the old times, when her biggest worries were how to counter Ino's arguments and how to stop Naruto constantly asking her on dates.

Her own age must've somewhat regressed, too. Her brain was still underdeveloped and struggling with all of the information it had to store. Her thinking had gotten naiver, she noticed. She didn't feel the immediate instinct to doubt someone and their intentions anymore. The thought to just blindly trust seemed a lot more appealing.

Of course, Sakura would never let that happen. She had already gotten too close to giving in once. 

She blinked, pushing back those thoughts. "How old are you again, Nīchan?"

It was risky, asking questions outright. But she—or at least this body—was four years old. It wasn't unreasonable for her to forget things that had to do with numbers and dates.

Yūta's green eyes widened in surprise. Contrary to everything she had expected, he didn't laugh it off or look offended. He simply continued to stare at her, wearing a puzzled look.

"But we–...?" he started, only to cut himself off mid-sentence. A calculating look crossed his eyes, and Sakura felt as if looking into a mirror, seeing the all too familiar way she would always weigh options and theories, in those matching jade-green eyes and in the expression her brother wore. He seemed to reach a decision then.

And all at once, the thoughtfulness and confusion were wiped off his face, so swiftly that Sakura almost doubted having seen it at all. Yūta's mouth pulled into a smirk.

"Don't tell me you forgot your only brother's age, Sacchan. I'm seven years older than you, you should know that." He probably aimed for his tone to be playful, yet it was slightly too faked to sound anything other than mocking.

Yūta continued on, and Sakura used that time to change her own expression into a matching, teasing one, interrupting the older one's rant.

"I'm four! Why'd I have ta' remember everything?!"

Yūta looked slightly relieved, seeing Sakura reacting to his words again. Strange. How often did this happen?

"Well, since you're so smart, how 'bout you figure my age out yourself? You already know all the other variables." He seamlessly changed the topic.

What was he hiding? "Why can't you just do it for me?"

"I'm not always going to..."

Yūta's and her own voice—still talking—slowly became muffled, as if hearing it from a distance. Sakura felt like a bystander in this conversation that she wasn't in control of anymore, like someone just passing by as Yūta continued to argue with—

With her.

Not herself. No, not this one. Because she had decided to let go of the wheel for just a moment, deliberately give in to the influence and the desires, and let her take over.

The young child sitting in a corner of her—no, their mindscape.

It—a soul, she guessed—had suddenly been there, appearing the day of her awakening. Of course she noticed, just as she noticed every miniscule change to either her mind or body. It was a habit—a combination of the medic training drilled into her, and seven years of war.

The soul of the child was always watching her, silently influencing Sakura's feelings and actions.

Her Inner Child, as she called it, didn't even look like a child, much less a person. It was more of a bright spot of energy or an intangible being, rather than a body. It was only thanks to the sheer innocence and brightness of the energy exuding from the presence that made it clear what exactly it was.

It was the other Sakura.

The one whose body she had taken over.

Chapter Text

She couldn't communicate with her—because calling her a 'it' didn't feel right when she was the foreign intruder in this situation. The sphere of energy would dissolve as soon as she reached out, reappearing days later in a corner of their mindscape.

Because, really, this body wasn't this Sakura's. Sakura, the twenty-four year old war veteran. Sakura, the Slug Sannin's student. Sakura, member of Team 7. Sakura, the shinobi.

Sakura who had lived and died once already.  

No, this body she was occupying belonged to Sakura-chan, the civilian girl with rose-colored hair and a too big forehead. Sakura-chan, the daughter of a librarian and a merchant. Sakura-chan, the young child whose older brother was a Shinobi. Sakura-chan, who had lost her father at age four. 

She—the other Sakura—had no right to be here to rob a girl of the rest of her life.  

Sometimes, like right now, she'd let her Inner Child take over. 'Take over', as in Sakura, let the influence the girl exuded on her completely determine her actions. During that time, Sakura would back off into their mindscape and only observe the events outside, if at all.

A part of her was always on guard, of course, but it'd only alarm her if anything endangering happened. Other than that, Inner had free control.

Essentially, she'd turn into a four-year old.

And Sakura would use that time to think. She had plans for the future and goals to reach.

Konoha wasn't built in a day. (Well, probably only a few months because of the Mokuton.) But Sakura was nowhere close to achieving any of her goals, let alone the main one, in a time any shorter than 'at least ten years'. 

Planning. That was what she did, every day, all the time. It was always in the back of her mind, and on these occasions, it would be pulled into the forefront of her thoughts, the sole focus of her thinking.

Technically speaking, she could do all of that while motionlessly lying down on her bed. And, honestly, that'd be more efficient and less taxing on her—it wasn't exactly child's play to fully remove one's mind from a body that is actively moving and doing things—, not to mention that 'Inner' wouldn't need to be another variable for Sakura to worry about (because she couldn't afford to simply ignore things she didn't know enough about, like Inner's existence).

Sakura felt as though she owed a debt to the little girl in their mindscape. A debt she could probably never fully pay off, for the favor she had been granted, was that of a whole life left to live.

This girl had been stolen of her life, all in order to allow Sakura to try to compensate for the mistakes of another lifetime.

She didn't know if Inner knew that she was trying to pay her back or if she was still here at all.

She wasn't Ino. While she could precisely list and explain the workings of every part of the human brain, she didn't understand the human psyche like Ino did. And she hadn't wanted to, hadn't needed to.

Ino had been there for that, after all.

Sakura couldn't tell what the being in her mindscape was. Just that it was the original Sakura and that it had somewhat of a consciousness, judging by the way it would always wait for Sakura to not pay attention before reappearing.

Sakura didn't know if it was better for Inner to be conscious or not.

After all, who but the person concerned could judge if a fate of suffering was worse than being ignorant to it all, existing without any kind of awareness?

Sakura blinked back into consciousness, the last shimmers of the almost trance-like state she had been in fading out. She was back in her room, sitting on the ground, the lights were off. Her hands were gripping two dolls tightly.

In her left hand, she held a hand-made doll depicting a small child with pink yarn for hair and two green buttons as eyes. Sakura's thumb was pressing down where the mouth of the figure would be. She placed the doll down on the carpet. The stitched thread of the doll, acting as the mouth, was set in an upwards arch.

One corner of the thread had been noticeably pulled on, as the thread had come loose on that side.

In her other hand was a bigger doll with yarn in a darker shade of pink and two half-circles stitched with black thread, imitating the way her father's eyes would crinkle when he smiled. That doll, too, she set down on the carpet.

Sakura remembered these.

Her father had had them custom-made. Sakura glanced to the third doll leaning against the base of the couch-turned-bed. Light brown yarn and buttons the color of the forests surrounding Konoha.

Sakura, Kizashi, and Mebuki. She had gotten these on her fifth birthday. She had loved them back then.

Then, her eyes caught the fourth figure that was lying on her crossed legs. This one had hair the same shade as the Kizashi-figure and two buttons that matched the ones on both Mebuki's and Sakura's doll.

Yūta.

Right, she had a brother now. Or, rather, this Sakura had a brother.

He was eleven, seven years older than her current self.

Right. There was a matter she needed to adress.

Asking him for his age had turned out to be even riskier than expected. His reaction at her simple question, him changing the topic, and his relief to her response was strange. Almost as if he were used to dealing with such situations.

It could be linked to Yūta existing in this world.

Eleven years ago...

She wracked her brain, trying to recall anything that happened back then, years before her birth. Her idea had been to use his time of birth to get a clue about... why he came to be. Because that was the only hint she had.

A tiny, unreasonable part of her had been hoping to suddenly, through miraculous circumstances, solve the mysteries that had been plaguing her alongside her endless questions of whyamIhere.

The strangeness of this world she thought she knew, yet felt unfamiliar in a way home couldn't be, showing itself infront of her as an older brother she never had, the too-apparent poverty of her family, the death of the father she had longed to finally meet again, and the result of her past failures sitting in her mindscape, as if rubbing in her face that she was supposed to be dead and had unfairly claimed this life and body as hers when it was anything but.

Sakura tried to find the answer to those questions, or at least an answer, but was ultimately met with–

nothing.

There wasn't any event eleven years ago that could've caused any of this.

Why would there be one? Yūta didn't exist in her world, her life. Gods, her memory of history could be entirely useless because her recollection didn't include Yūta, or her father dying, or her family's poorness.

What was different now? Why did Yūta exist? What caused these changes?

Sakura tucked away the dolls and went to bed, mind spinning with a myriad of questions and concerns, left to be unheard and unanswered.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, Shisui wasn't late. Even though they had not agreed upon a specific time other than 'Friday'.

But, as Sakura gradually came closer to her training spot in the forest clearing, she spotted him already awaiting her, as if it wasn't eight in the morning.

Maybe she had been too used to Kakashi and the torment—though he would call it a lesson—of waiting hours upon hours in the burning heat of Konoha's summer for a teacher that expected them to be punctual. That was probably why Sakuea was so surprised to see her new teacher arriving earlier than her.

"Huh. How are you on time?"

And shit, she shouldn't have said that out loud. That just made her sound stupid.

It was obvious he had used some kind of trick with chakra that he expected her not to know. And she had just confirmed that.

The Uchiha, wearing a very irritating expression, pushed himself away from the tree he had been leaning against. It was the very tree she had run up countless times a few days ago. And gotten caught doing so.

Shisui smirked. "That, Sakura-chan, is what you are here to learn, right? I know that you are eager to be educated all about chakra and broaden your limited knowledge—"

"I don't—"

"—but you should first learn to show your teacher some respect, don't you think? Of course, I understand that you basically view me as an older brother by now," Shisui smugly smirked, and what the fuck. "and, don't get me wrong, I deeply resonate that sentiment, but in this situation, the both of us should learn to temporarily let go of—"

"I don't view you as my older brother—"

"Stop right there, Sakura-chan. I know it's hard to set aside one's affection for a friend, but please listen to me once, alright?" He crossed his arms and sighed, as if deeply disappointed. "Firstly, don't you think you should greet your new Sensei first? Is this really how you are going to treat your mentor, Sakura-chan?"

Sakura wanted to snap a sly counterback at him, tell him to cut the bullshit and not act like this wasn't decided on a whim, and either of them had been taking this that seriously last time—

"Well, Sakura-chan?"

—but she wasn't actually four, and, unlike her, he had the advantage of 'being a generous person offering to teach her' in this hypothetical argument anyway.

And there was always a better way to get back at someone than outright words. Sometimes, it was best to give people exactly what they asked for.

"Sure."

Sakura bowed to him deeply. It wasn't as deep of a bow as he was probably used to receiving from the nobles of the Land of Fire. He was only one generation removed from the main family, after all, and there were plenty of people who wanted to leech off a rich clan's wealth. But it was a deep bow nonetheless.

Show some respect he had said, so she was going to do just that.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Shisui look a bit stumped at her immediate acceptance, maybe because it was coming from a young child that would not too long ago try kicking him and shoot snarky comments at him at every given chance.

With a voice as calm and level as she could manage, Sakura started. "Good morning, Sensei. I hope I am not troubling you by asking you to sacrifice your precious time to train the likes of me. Please excuse my impolite behavior from last week. I had not been aware of your standing within Konoha and your reverend clan. For that, I have reflected on," A deep breath. "and am asking for forgiveness."

Silence.

Then, she heard Shisui shuffle. The fallen leaves underneath his feet crackled.

"Uh-... yes, good morning to you too, Sakura-chan." Shisui slowly answered after a long pause. "... And you're forgiven for your... behavior."

She stayed silent, her head lowered, as was proper when talking to someone of a higher standing and not having permission to speak.

Shisui sounded unsure of what to do. "You... can raise your head now. And also, look me in the eye when you speak."

Sakura slowly rose from her bow. "Thank you, Sensei. I am honored to be given permission to—"

"Stop that!"

This wasn't how Shisui had expected his first training session to go.

His plan had been perfect. Immaculate, even. He had never told Sakura an exact time to meet, which she was sure to notice, given the intelligence she had shown up until now.

Shisui would make a show of being punctual in a way that should seem impossible for someone like her, who didn't know much about chakra. It was the kind of stuff one couldn't find in the civilian section of the library. That's where he suspected she got the tree-walking trick from.

(But where had she learned the Kage-bunshin? Was she really... a spy? No, that couldn't—)

Maybe she'd ask him if it was magic, or, being the sly brat she was, ask if he had stalked her. Shisui would explain to her in a very teacherly way that no, it wasn't magic, and he definitely hadn't stalked her.

Because, actually, he had simply used chakra to sense all chakra signatures in a certain radius, including the forest and its surrounding areas. Thus, he could spot Sakura's presence when she came to train and be there in time without leaving his house too early.

Maybe he'd let Sakura figure out the last bit on her own, and he'd try to get a better understanding of her knowledge in order to decide which of his current theories were more likely.

That had been his plan. But who could've known that the girl would decide to listen to him?
It was ridiculous.

Just a few days ago, she wouldn't even follow his request to stop endangering her life with training, but now she bowed to him and spoke all formal?! Shisui was used to such treatment from going to the capital with Itachi and his parents. He was the only nephew they had, and due to that, third in line to be the clan head.

What Sakura did wasn't even the worst of it. There had been much more unpleasant ways someone had tried sucking up to him and Itachi. Shisui had learned to get somewhat used to it.

Still, that was that, and at least he could mentally prepare himself when going to the capital. Sakura-chan here, however, had caught him completely off guard with... this.

Perhaps loudly interrupting her wasn't the best for the mentor image he was going for. Sakura was mustering him, all confused and polite and not at all like the rascal from last week.

"Just... stop that."

Shisui raised a hand to do... something, which was immediately wiped from his mind and memory, leaving it to awkwardly hover in the air as he slowly dropped it again.

Sakura, still the very image of respectfulness and politeness, asked with a questioning voice, "What exactly, Sensei? May I dare to ask you for further elaboration?"

There was no way she didn't know what he meant.

"I'm telling you to stop speaking so formal to me! Where did the snappy Sakura-chan from last time go? And where did you learn to talk like that?!"

"I apologize, Sensei. I wasn't aware there was a problem with my way of speaking." She paused and lowered her head. "I was simply following your order to—what was it? Ah, yes, 'show some respect'."

Shisui groaned. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Not at all.

Ha.

Sakura suppressed a snicker but couldn't stop the corner of her mouth from curling up in satisfaction. Shisui couldn't see it because of her lowered head anyway.

This was her revenge for his earlier antics.

She heard him groan in a defeated manner. "Fine. Forget about that request. You do not need to show me respect, bow to me every five seconds, or speak to me like I'll have you executed at the slightest show of disrespect. Please, just stop it."

"Are you sure, Sensei? Personally, if I may, I do not have a problem talking to a highly respected individual such as you in this manner."

"Yes, I am sure... That's an order."

Finally, Sakura raised her head, smiling victoriously.

She kicked the ground with her foot, causing leaves to swirl around and land on Shisui's sandals, and turned her head to look around the area as if searching for something. "Are we waiting for something, or can we start training now...?"

"...Do you hate me that much, Sakura-chan?"

"Not until you started spitting that bullshit about older brothers." Sakura had enough of that already.

Shisui sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I miss the times when you still acted like a four-year old."

Chapter Text

"You need to work on your stamina."

Sakura lifted her head, gazing up at Shisui kneeling next to her. She immediately regretted it as the sun's harsh glare hit her eyes. 

"I-... know ." She finally managed to huff, dimly wondering if she was supposed to stand up now after 5 minutes of lying flat on her back. But she wasn't quite getting enough air in her lungs yet.

Shisui had made her run laps around the entire perimeter of the forest for hours as 'preparation for the real training'. Her body had, as Sakura had once concluded in dismay, shitty stamina. But with enough determination and discipline, she had managed to push through the first few rounds at a relatively survivable pace..

It was after the tenth lap that Shisui decided to make her life twenty times worse and have her put on weights around her ankles. With glee in his evil, evil eyes, he had explained that they were linked to his chakra and could only be taken off by him . To her great disappointment, the previously manageable weight doubled with a simple flare of his chakra in a show of his control over the damn things.

With those added weights, Sakura would run another six laps around the forest before collapsing onto the floor.

"Maybe you should've started doing that before attempting tree-walking. Maybe you would've been in better shape by now." Shisui suggested helpfully, freeing her from ankle weights with a snap of his fingers. Sakura glared at him, feeling irritated and exhausted.

Yeah, right .

As if she'd had the chance to get in shape.

He seemed to believe Sakura had been training for a while by now, which was, to be fair, very reasonable. Even she herself wouldn't expect that to have been her first ever try at using chakra and tree-walking. Well, that was without knowing the important small-big detail that she was mentally twenty years older than physically, had been Jōnin for nine years, and Shinobi for half her life.

"Stop... mentioning that at every corner." She glared at Shisui for being an irritating punk that, on second glance, wasn't all that different from his cold-mannered clansmen—

"So you have the energy left to glare daggers at me but can't manage to run another lap? Come on, Sakura-chan, we won't ever get to the cool part without setting the foundation first. Didn't you say you wanted to learn the Shunshin from me?"

—and for looking clean and refreshed as ever, wearing that stupid grin, while she was lying on the dirt and struggling to pant out each word—

"Shut up. I shouldn't have mentioned... that to you. You're never going to teach it to me... are you?"

—and for being way too aware of all those risks Sakura was taking, because of course he has to be the nosy type of guy that knows all the rules by heart—

"Do you not trust me, Sakura-chan? We will get there, I promise. You are simply not old enough, and I haven't even taught you the basics yet. You know what my uncle always said to me? 'Only by striving to master the basics can one fully grasp the potential of advanced techniques', and I think you should also live by that principle."

—and for acting like it was his responsibility to protect her from herself when he probably hadn't been all that different at her age either.

"Your uncle... is the fucking Clan Head." Sakura wanted to throw a punch at him. " He knows the kind of techniques... that are advanced enough to live by such a troublesome rule. The Shunshin isn't one of those. Stop acting like you didn't learn it at five ."

Shisui's mouth curled into a smile. "Aw. You already know so much about me. I'm honored."

"Why are you feeling honored ?"

He completely ignored her continuous glare and the question. "By the way, we've known each other for quite a while already, and you know things about me , yet I don't know anything about you."

"What do you mean 'quite a while'? This is our second time meeting." Sakura sat up, purely out of spite, to get to eye level with him. "And also, no ."

"You should tell me about yourself."

"I already said—"

"But you're my apprentice, aren't you? What am I supposed to tell people when they ask me?"

"Then don't tell people about me."

"Why not? Are you that embarrassed to have me as your teacher? Is that it, Sakura-chan?"

"Stop calling me that! And what even is your deal? Telling people you are training me is just unnecessary and bound to get us in trouble! And , don't associate everything I do with some kind of deeply rooted hatred I have for you!"

Shisui, who had been grinning the whole time, stilled at those words. 

"'Trouble'?" A suspecting glint appeared in eyes that held humor and amusement just a moment ago.

All at once, she was reminded that Shisui couldn't be trusted yet and that his motives were still unclear.

Shit .

Sakura wasn't supposed to know about the wedge that was forming between the Village and the Uchiha and that his clan wouldn't be too happy about one of their most skilled members training an outsider instead of his clan members. She wasn't supposed to know about the tensions that would eventually lead to the downfall of one of the strongest clans in the Elemental Nations.

She was supposed to be acting like a normal civilian girl, not a seasoned Shinobi that had been fighting alongside an Uchiha for seven years and heard a fair share of clan politics and history.

Think, Sakura!

"You are always trouble, Sensei, " she tried provoking him.

"You are a lot of trouble yourself, Sakura-chan," 

Yes! Now change the topic! Ease suspicion!

"—but what does that have to do with me telling people about you?"

Shut up, Shisui! Why can't you just go with the damn flow?!

"I didn't mean anything else by that. What will we do now? I don't have all day, you know."

" Now you want to train again?"

"Yes. Right now."

"Why? You are avoiding my question." Shisui pointed out. She cursed internally.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"No? Why would I avoid your question? I'm the type to face uncomfortable stuff head-on. As if I'd avoid things." That was true for most cases. Just not when her cover was about to get blown.

"I know. That's why I'm wondering why you're changing the topic. You talked about trouble. Why'd you want to keep this hidden?"

"No reason. I'm a private person."

Why are you interrogating me, damn it?!

"Sakura-chan, I'm not stupid. I know you are coming up with an excuse at this very moment. What is your deal? Is this about the Academy again? About your peers? The stuff you said last—"

Shisui's increasingly fast-paced questions were abruptly cut off by a shout from the edge of the forest, where the road was. "Shisui! Are you joining us for lunch?"

Sakura stretched her head to look past Shisui. A woman with beautiful long, black hair, wearing a simple yet graceful dark blue dress, was waving in their direction from where she stood at the side of the road. The road that led to the Uchiha Compound.

Who was that?

Shisui, on the other hand, was still kneeling next to her and fully turned his head. "Obasan! How did you know where I was?" He brightly exclaimed, his face lighting up.

The Uchiha matriarch ? Fuck, no .

The woman, Mikoto Uchiha, smiled. "Itachi told me. We're about to eat. Do you want to eat with us before going on that mission? It's your favorite."

"Really? That's great. Wait a second, I'll need to wrap this up first."

"Maybe you should hurry. The food will get cold, and you know your uncle. He won't permit anyone to eat before all people are present and seated. What are you doing there, dear?"

She didn't seem to have noticed Sakura yet; her figure was completely concealed behind Shisui.

"Oh, I'm just—" The younger Uchiha turned his head to look at Sakura, who started shaking her head aggressively. "What?" he questioned quietly.

"Don't tell her about me." Sakura said, green eyes glowering at him in warning.

He couldn't be intimidated, of course. Shisui grinned. "Whelp, I already did."

"You did what ?" Her voice became low for a completely different reason this time.

"Tell her about you. Asking a woman for advice seemed the most plausible."

" Advice ? Why do you-"

"Can't be changed now! I guess it doesn't matter if I tell her, then?"

Shisui didn't wait for an answer, because he never does, turning his head around once again. "I'm training my apprentice! You know, the girl we talked about? Oh, right!" A quick glance sent her way, along with a mischievous smirk, was all the warning she got before Shisui moved to the side, exposing her to being seen by the woman.

"How about she joins us for lunch? Can I invite her? It's our first training session."

Lunch ? With the Clan Head ?

"Shut up. " Sakura angrily muttered.

Mikoto clasped her hands together. "That's a great idea! There were some things I was curious about. We can sort those questions out over some food."

"Thanks, Obasan! What do you say, Saku—?" Shisui turned his head to ask probably another ridiculous thing.

"I hate you." She frowned. With that, she jumped to her feet, ignoring Shisui's excited exclamation.

"Oh, have you decided to join us? Wonderful," said the Uchiha Matriarch.

Sakura bowed her head. "Thank you for the invitation, Uchiha-sama. I must humbly decline, however. There is a family emergency."

Before Shisui could grab her by the arm or something, she swapped places with a leaf in the distance, hidden from the sight of both Mikoto and Shisui. In quick succession, she swapped herself with several more leaves since there were plenty of them on the ground, all the way until she was at the other edge of the forest, where a road led to the main street.

Her chakra reserves were two-thirds empty by the end of her impromptu escape. She sighed.

Two-thirds empty. From six Jutsu. Six E-Rank Jutsu.

And that's why I wanted to learn the Shunshin. ..

She should've known getting training from Shisui would only result in annoying situations. The Uchiha were too keen, especially the Head of the Clan. There was no telling what they could find out with all the otherworldly abilities the Sharingan granted them. Her Byakugō seal was also only freshly prepared. Residue chakra was bound to be suspicious if they happened to notice it.

Sakura knew she would inevitably have to meet the Uchiha in order to achieve her goals.

But not yet. Not when she was unprepared. Not when she was sweaty and exhausted after running laps around the forest. Not when she had no allies in the clan, besides maybe Shisui, which was a stretch to say.

Just—

Not fucking yet.

Chapter Text

Though Sakura had tried her best to hide it back then, even Shisui, whom she had met once, had noticed her abnormally small chakra reserves.

That was why he had made Sakura train her stamina—that was also bad as fuck—instead of teaching her the Body Flicker, as she had suggested.

Her tests from the Day of Endless Misfortune—as she had taken to call it—also showed that her chakra pool was exhausted after only twenty minutes of tree-walking and nearly empty after a half-baked Shadow Clone that immediately disappeared even though she had made sure to meditate and use her chakra sparingly.

Even so, wasn't it strange that it had worked in the first place? Her reserves weren't big enough for that; it shouldn't have been poss—)

Using up whatever she had left to push Shisui on various occasions turned out to have drawbacks she didn't want to have in the middle of a fight. Well, she'd probably die with her current abilities before she could get anywhere close to using up her meager chakra reserves.

So that was why she was heading to the library. Meditating to expand her chakra pool was not an option because of another problem she had encountered that was way too troublesome and headache-inducing to be on her mind right now.

Sakura, as a medic, concentrated more on maintaining the body's condition at an efficiently functioning level, not growing abilities or making people any stronger than they needed to live a long and healthy life. She didn't know any other techniques that would help her in being able to use more than six consecutive E-Rank jutsu.

Walking around the village felt... different in a way Sakura couldn't quite place. Maybe it was because this place had been almost fully decimated once.

The Village had been rebuilt after Pain's invasion, but even then, the places and buildings that had been painstakingly reconstructed by everyone had never truly felt like a home to her, and the Konoha of her childhood had existed only in her slowly fading memory. At least that was the case during the few years before Konoha was fully destroyed this time.

As Sakura entered the market, swarming with people she had fought alongside on the battlefield, people she had once treated at the hospital, people whose graves she had probably walked past at the graveyard after the attack at the Chūnin Exams, people she had never gotten to meet because either she or they had died before she had had the chance to get to know them—

Oh.

And it suddenly struck her—like leaving the eye of a tornado she had been standing in the whole time, like being hit by the full force of a tsunami she had seen coming from miles away—that she was back.

This was home.

Sakura didn't even notice how she had gone along with the flow of the crowd and come to a stop in front of a stand.

The market was bustling with people, as was usual for Konoha, a place widely favored by merchants and travelers.

"Hey, you in the green coat! Interested in a chance to win two thousand ryō?"

The brown-haired man stopped in his tracks and eyed the middle-aged man standing behind a stand. Boldly colored lettering on a poster in front of him said, 'Solve the puzzle, win a prize!'.

Huh.

The man wasn't a local, as was apparent by the build of the stand, made to be easily portable. He stood in front of a large board depicting a diagram of a large rectangle, divided into five areas. Rooms, probably. There were doors between the rooms and also ones leading 'outside'.

The man, seeing he had attracted a large enough crowd—he had been calling out to random passersby for some time now—pointed at one of the people standing around his stand.

"You, good sir, may be the first contestant. If you pay the small fee of two hundred ryō, you will be given the chance to get tenfold of that back." he started.

Apparently, the prospect of winning money was appealing to many. Quite a few people had gathered around. The 'man in the green coat', as he had been referred to, himself didn't resonate that, though he couldn't say he wasn't curious to see what kind of puzzle was supposedly challenging enough for the man to declare such a high prize money.

And it was an excuse to stall some more time before inevitably heading towards the Hokage tower. Grey eyes watched the events unfolding before him with mild interest.

The traveler proceeded to give the contestant a black marker and explained the conditions for solving the puzzle. The rules were simple, albeit a little unique. The man was to draw a line that would pass through each of the doors depicted in the building on the sketch. The catch was that each opening could only be passed through exactly once. All five rooms had at least two doors to accommodate that rule.

"To give the other contestants a chance, you will have only one try to complete the task. Good luck!" The man stepped back to let the challenger see the board in full view.

The contestant, a red-haired man, thoughtfully tapped the marker against the board for some moments before starting a line at the center of the upper left room.

The crowd watched in anticipation as the line grew longer and longer, passing through four of the five rooms, top left to bottom left to bottom right, before it—

The marker stopped. The man lifted his head and looked at the path he had drawn, realization dawning upon him. He had made a mistake.

The brown-haired man sighed, having seen the blunder as it had happened. It was clear that winning wasn't possible anymore.

"Shouldn't have rushed through it like that. If only he had taken that corner..." someone next to him murmured. He couldn't help but agree.

The gamemaster, wearing a sympathetic expression, clapped his hands. "Time's up! I see you didn't manage to pass through every door! Sadly, that means you, sir, are out. Good try, however!"

"There was a time limit?" The same voice beside him—quite a high-pitched one—mumbled this time. "He can't just leave that part out."

True.

Another contestant was chosen from the crowd after the man asked for further challengers. This contestant, a young woman wearing a flowy dress, was faced with an entirely new puzzle. She, knowing about the time limit, spent only a few seconds thinking and got to work right after.

A minute later, the puzzle was solved. The crowd cheered, while some sighed in disappointment and envy. The woman, smiling victoriously, was handed a package that apparently contained the promised two thousand ryō.

Seeing someone actually winning, even more people flocked together, the bubble around the stand growing in size. Many were eager to be the next contestants.

He didn't raise his hand, of course. 2000 was easily covered by three A-rank missions. Maybe even two, considering people would pay extra to get him on the job.

Should he leave now? He couldn't stall much longer. The Hokage was sure to send someone to come fetch him if he didn't show up soon. But then again, he was in a Henge right now. A really good one at that. Maybe he could just walk around some more, delaying the conversation that was to come.

Currently, contestant number five was taking on a new puzzle. The rules remained the same, though the levels would get harder.

The contestant nervously shifted, lifting the marker, then lowering it again, unsure what to do. There was only one chance, after all. In the end, he hastily attempted to draw a line that didn't earn him a win.

"This one is quite difficult, so the next contestant will be given the same puzzle again!" the merchant exclaimed, encouraging the crowd. Some had become reluctant due to the continued losses of the last three people.

Another person was picked. They went up to the board and narrowly failed to solve the problem, leaving just one door untouched. New person, same puzzle. They failed, panicking because of the quickly passing time, now displayed by an hourglass standing next to the board.

Why hadn't the man taken it out sooner?

The tenth contestant. Another fail.

How strange. Was it because the puzzles were getting harder? Nobody was winning.

He analyzed the sketch, the one that had been newly changed to after three failed attempts at the other one. Five rooms, two of them with five doors and three rooms with four. Entering and leaving a room twice made up for foor doors. What about the other rooms?

There's five doors. Starting and ending the line in the room were two more, but there were three—

Ah.

No wonder no one was solving it.

"It's not possible," the person next to him murmured, voicing out the conclusion he had just come to.

"Oh really?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the current contestant who was attempting the puzzle. If only he knew that it was unsolvable.

There was a short pause, and he wondered if the person had heard him.

Then,

"Yes. It can't be solved. For the rooms with five passages, the solution line must either start inside the room or end in it. There's three rooms with five doors, but a line can only start and end once, meaning one room is unaccounted for.

"It's not possible. The same goes for the last puzzle. Oh, and the one they're changing it to now."

Contestant fifteen watched with wary eyes as a new diagram was placed in front of him. Six rooms. Three of them had three doors, the other three four. It wasn't possible.

The person—a female?—was correct. Interesting how nobody was catching on to the scam. Besides the two of them.

Who was this person? He turned his head to see who exactly was figuring out things that no person other than him here had realized.

And there she stood.

Rose-colored hair. A small figure, barely reaching the height of his hips. A youthful face, maybe five years of age.

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong, mister?"

"You are quite smart for your age, aren't you?" He smiled.

The girl's expression didn't change, yet she exuded an air of annoyance at his words. Hm. Weren't children usually happy about compliments?

She shook her head. "Not really. It's quite obvious once you figure out the core problem." She nodded towards the man standing behind the board, cheerfully encouraging the contestant. "Ever since the second contestant, the woman who won, all puzzles have been like this. They just vary in the number of rooms and doors."

"Since when did you know?"

Even he hadn't noticed it until just now. Granted, he had been preoccupied with handling the dilemma that was picking between fulfilling his duty and forgoing it for now.

She shrugged. "Ever since the guy announced that the puzzles would be reused for the next challengers. It felt like too much of a risk to give people even more time to think. So he must've had some kind of backup plan."

"Why aren't you calling him out for it?"

"Why would I? It's the people's choice. They should be able to see for themselves that this whole thing is fishy."

Fair enough. He wouldn't step in either.

But he couldn't say that. The Henge he was keeping up, the persona he had created, was supposed to be kind and righteous. "I wouldn't agree with that. But I can't force you, can I?" He smiled again, eyes crinkling. "What do you mean by 'fishy', though?"

"Everything. It's all set up to manipulate the crowd." she vaguely answered.

This was getting interesting. She even caught on to that, huh?

"How so?"

The girl seemed to take notice of his continuous questions. However, she didn't refute them but simply answered.

"The first two contestants were actors. They're on the same team as the man. They act as an encouragement to the crowd, emphasizing that winning is possible, even though some may fail." She paused, thinking.

Seeing the girl not say anything more, he added thoughtfully, "By adding the time limit, they keep the contestants on edge and make them act rashly. The hourglass was added for that, too."

"Right. That too. These people—they can simply do this kind of stuff a few times in Konoha and..."

"And pack up and leave for the next location. There they set up the same situations again and profit." he finished.

"That's... a clever tactic." The girl didn't look angry at the fraud. Just interested.

What an intriguing person.

He extended a hand towards her. "What's your name, smart girly?"

"Shouldn't you introduce yourself first? You're being a bit suspicious, mister. Are the purple stripes gang symbols?" The girl asked skeptically. Yet she took his hand. "Sakura."

Kakashi chuckled and this time, it wasn't faked. He shook their hands. "Sukea."

Chapter Text

"Just Sukea? No last name?"

"You didn't give me one either, did you?"

"Haruno." She gave him an expectant look, an amused glint in her eyes. Not that he would know why. 

What will you say now, huh?  

"Oh, you know, Sukea is really just an alias. It's what I am called in my field of profession. Easier to remember than your generic name, isn't it? I guess it just slipped out of me when you asked for my name." 'Sukea' smiled in an awkward manner, as if he were giving away an embarrassing secret.

Yeah, right. He wasn't fooling anyone. At least not her. 

"So, do you live here? In Konoha?"

"Not really. I travel around. But Konoha is definitely a favored location of mine." He chuckled. "I don't have a knack for fighting, or anything Shinobi, for that matter. But being here and having them around at all times helps with feeling secure."

"You travel? What do you do for work?"

Photojournalism had been his answer back then, Sakura recalled.

"Nothing much. I'm a journalist; I go around here and there, collect some interesting stories, and try to get by." 

"What's your real name?"

Kakashi—because that's who he was, no matter how well he played the 'Sukea' persona—put a hand to his hip, leaning down slightly. "You are quite a curious one, Sakura-chan, asking all these questions." 

"Don't call me that." Shisui was already one too much. And she hadn't been called that by him since she was a Genin. It didn't feel right anymore, even if she was technically young enough to have her name accompanied by that suffix.

"Only if you promise to stop the interrogation."

"You kept asking questions earlier too. An eye for an eye." She still wanted to find out how detailed his disguise of Sukea was. Finding out that this appearance of Kakashi wasn't just something he had made up on the spot back then was already surprising. "How old are you?"

He sighed. "Fine. But this is the last one. Nine-teen. And you?"

So Sukea was the same age as Kakashi? Was this how far his cover went? 

"I'm turning five next March." 

Why was he even in a Henge right now?

But she couldn't ask that. Not when nothing hinted to him being Kakashi, not when his cover was—so far—perfect, immaculate even.

It wasn't really a want to see how much he had prepared for Sukea's backstory. Not the type of necessity that was crucial to saving her friends, the type of thing that made her head heavy with burdens and thoughts, made her feel like every moment—every action—was part of a mission.

It was the lighthearted type of prank, the thing young, civilian children would title a 'mission' to look impressive.

Kakashi looked up at the sky, eyes widening ever so slightly. "It seems I have to leave now. Appointment with a client, you see."

Sakura nodded. "Oh, sure. By the way, what time is it?"

He took another look at the sky. "Quarter past three."

Finally, a crack.

"Thanks. Good to know."

She grinned. "Wow, did you tell it so accurately just by looking at the sun? I'd almost think you were a ninja."

Kakashi froze.

Amateur mistake.

"Well, you can't keep your client waiting." She tapped him on his coat, startling him out of his trance—though he managed to cover it up as a cough. "It was fun talking to you, Sukea-san! Maybe we'll see each other again!"

They'd meet pretty soon. She'd make sure of that.

Sakura waved a bit, getting back a raised hand from a still somewhat stumped-looking Kakashi—although his expression had mostly gone back to ''normal'—before she turned around to head to head towards the library once again.

Meanwhile, Kakashi was left behind in a state of emotions torn between being surprised, stupefied, and annoyed—at both himself and the girl who had somehow, unknowingly, tricked him. But, most of all, confused—at feeling like he had been played in a one-sided game.

And, as he watched the strange girl disappear among the crowd, a minute feeling of dread began to form in his chest.

It had been hard not to break down.

When she had noticed him standing next to her in that same disguise he had worn all those years ago, her mind and breath had stopped, along with any thoughts about the show before them.

Because Kakashi wasn't just another fallen comrade. He was a mentor, a teammate, family.

Team 7 had been family to each other in a way none of them had ever experienced before. And even though Sakura had been the only one to still have an alive, loving family by then, something about Team 7's connection had been inherently different from the one she had with her parents. Something she couldn't name that could cross bonds that were thought to be severed, reach people who were always too distant to touch, and connect them so tightly it became impossible to believe they had ever been apart.

And then Kakashi had died, and everything started falling apart.

"Good afternoon! How may I help...?" The man at the counter trailed off, his smile dropping in a matter of moments. The polite kindness on his face was replaced with a barely hidden expression of fear.

Sakura strode past him with slow, unwavering strides and an uninterested look in her eyes.

Though the man could only see one.

She passed half a dozen book shelves, walking past the storybook category, then the comics, and lastly the textbook section. A woman stood next to a door leading to the second floor. Her eyes, too, held fear as Sakura didn't spare her a glance, shoving the door open. The woman looked as if she wanted to say something—should say something.

But a warning glare from her made the librarian shoot her head to the side and stare intently at a book she had been inspecting on her desk before she had stood up abruptly at her approach.

'Sakura' wasn't stopped at the second level either, crossing the floor without so much as a word from the library workers there.

It only took her a few more glares and some inpatient foot tapping before she was led into the Jōnin and above section, where the most restricted books and writings were held.

That was easy.

No wonder Naruto had managed to steal the Forbidden scroll back then, when Konoha's biggest library could be tricked by one Henge of Kakashi Hatake.

Sakura breathed out, releasing her tensely held breath for the first time since she entered the building. She didn't waste chakra on checking her reserves; the impending feeling of tiredness closing in on her was enough.

She had about half left.

Had this been a normal Henge, Sakura would have been able to hold it for longer, which—even then—wasn't nearly as long as she would've liked.

Her chakra pool wasn't growing. But it should. Especially now, when she was a child and her pathways were unused and malleable. And she had been training diligently through meditation and chakra-enhanced movements.

Yet she always had the same amount of chakra in her supply. Why wasn't she making progress? Was she the exception?

Sakura sighed.

But that was one of the reasons she came here, wasn't it?

She didn't have much time left. Her Henge was different from the basic one they taught at the Academy. She had found it in a tome from the First Great Ninja War when she had been scavenging the remains of a basement in Kiri. It had been, or had been intended to be used for infiltration. 

A normal Henge was a mask one wore, something that imitated change when in reality nothing was different except the way one was visually perceived. This technique, however, 'Advanced Henge' as one may call it, required much more chakra, for it was that much more detailed and changed not only the outside but also the chakra signature, physical abilities, weight, and such. Because, while she was confident in her ability to play a cold, menacing guy, she couldn't risk entering a place that was frequently visited by skilled shinobi, consequently giving her a higher chance of encountering said shinobi. 

Sakura casually strolled around the floor, checking for any other people there while also looking out for anything that could possibly help her with her problem (multiple problems, actually, that all came together to ruin her attempts at expanding her miserable chakra reserves). Fortunately, the library seemed to be empty. 

Maybe it was because she made sure to set those explosives littered outside Konoha to go off around this time. It should've helped with pulling the Shinobi to the edge of the Village, nice and on-edge and far away from the library at the center of it. 

Choosing Kakashi as her choice of disguise was risky but immensely useful for infiltrating and walking around the place like she owned it. She'd have to count on the bombs being enough of a distraction to overlook the thing about the Copy-nin being at two places at once. 

Well, once she got out of here, it wouldn't be Sakura's problem anymore. 

'The Land of Wind—Three: Flora and Fauna'

The dusty book was hidden at the bottom of a cardboard box, having been laid there untouched for what must have been at least five years. 

But that number didn't even compare to the date the book was written. It was a bit tricky to find out and took some deciphering, but in the end, she managed to read the faded text at the bottom of the first page. 

'written approx. 40 BKF. commented by T.S.'

The book was at least a hundred years old. Strange how it wasn't kept on the proper shelf, next to the other scriptures written before Konoha's founding. There weren't a lot of them, just enough to fill a middle-sized bookshelf. And 40 BKF shouldn't be too common. Why had it been lying here, abandoned in a box at the corner of the library? 

Perhaps she should put it back down. Sakura wasn't looking for this kind of stuff anyway. The 'Chakra Theory' section looked quite promising. Or maybe the 'Martial Arts' corner? She was planning to pick up something new either way. 

Yeah, she should do that...

No!

Sakura disrupted her chakra, dispelling the strange fog that had overcome her and muddled her brain. 

"What the hell?" she murmured. 

The woman at the counter, sending her shy glances from time to time, shrieked and scrambled into the staff room.

As it turned out, there had been a reason why this book hadn't been stored the usual way. Quite an incriminating one at that. 

Sakura sighed, putting a gloved hand to her forehead. Was she supposed to report this? Or give it to the people in question? There was no way this had been approved by them. She eyed the other books in the box, specifically 'The Land of Wind—One: History' at the top of the stack. If the third book had been camouflage, the first was probably one too, right? 

Fuck. She shouldn't have pulled out that container behind the curtain. She should have ignored the other box beneath it and instead concentrated on the one she had grabbed in the first place, filled with interesting-looking texts on Chakra Rehabilitation. Texts, which were surely not written one hundred years ago, nor masked with a Genjutsu. And certainly not books whose possession promised to call upon some very angry people who also happen to belong to one of the most powerful clans.

She reluctantly glanced back at the cursed book in her hands, and, ah yes, it was still there. 

'The Sharingan and the merciless, kin-murdering nature of the Uchiha clan' the words said, glaringly obvious and clear now that she had noticed it. 

It was a wonder—likely enhanced by the Genjutsu—that she had failed to take notice of the huge text marring the top of the page. She had been too focused on her task to decipher the annotation at the bottom corner, so much that she didn't bother to do more than skim over what she had believed to be the same title as the one on the cover.

She couldn't put it back now. Not after she had seen it, been made aware of it. And Sakura couldn't just leave it at their clan gates, could she? Someone would surely find out if she weren't caught on the spot red-handed. 

She couldn't give it to Shisui either. 

There were many books about the Uchiha, simply because of their fascinating, powerful abilities and their long history with Konoha and the Senju. There were many derogatory books too, of course, mostly published by enemy nations or people that held grudges—though publishing or distributing those was illegal in Konoha. 

The problem was the 'kin-murdering' part. Judging from the bold wording, the contents of the book would contain much more. But this was top-secret information. A majority of the Uchiha themselves didn't even know about the Mangekyō, which was almost certainly what the title was hinting at. Whoever had written this had known too much and was clearly not a fan of the Uchiha. 

This T.S. guy should've burned the book or something. Or at least stored it away, damn it. 

Now what?

If she were to give it to Shisui or Itachi—because, you know, clan heir—Sakura could guarantee that they wouldn't just accept it and let her go. And her shitty, albeit true excuse of 'I found it in a cardboard box at the library, dunno how it got there, haha.' was bound to stir up more trouble and questions and answers that implied her being a spy. She couldn't just take it home or something either...

...

Or could she?

I guess...

Well, wouldn't it all depend on the actual contents of the book? If the information wasn't too severe, she could try to pull one of the other stunts off, given she wouldn't really know anything detrimental. 

And Sakura had already heard most of the bad stuff from Sasuke anyway. It would probably be fine. 

She tightened her grip on the book and turned to leave. But, after side-eyeing the cardboard package that held at least two other books laced with Genjutsu—it was quite obvious, when you knew where to look, really—and much contemplation, she placed the book inside and picked up the whole box. 

Three long strides, and she stood in front of the counter. The woman looked surprised and hesitantly began asking something whilst pointing at the box under her arm, but was swiftly cut off by a glare and a curt, "I'm taking this." 

Then she left. 

Chapter Text

Mebuki was doing dishes, scrubbing off plates and cups. They had just finished eating.

Now seemed like a good time, Sakura thought.

"Okāsan, I'll join the Academy."

This was the first step to her goal. It seemed like nothing–miniscule progress compared to the road that lay ahead. But it was crucial to her plan. Becoming stronger, saving everyone–it all started with this.

Once the school year started, she would begin building up friendships and bonds with the others–

"You can't."

Her mother was looking at her with a strange look. Guilt, sadness, disappointment, pity. She lowered her head and reached for another plate.

"Huh?"

Why?

Sakura sat up, leaving the tangerine she had been peeling on the table. She hurried to stand next to her mother.

"But– Why?"

"We have already talked about this."

"You don't understand, I have to."

"No, you don't. Sakura, get me another pack of soap." She was nudged away, a gentle push that was not at all like the firm tone of her voice. It was no use defying her and would only serve to irritate her mother, so Sakura left the dining room.

Coming back with an unopened pack of dish soap five minutes later–it took some time to find one in their cramped storage room–Sakura handed it over to Mebuki and quietly waited for the explanation she had been denied earlier. But, as nothing followed and her mother simply continued scrubbing and cleaning, she grew impatient.

"Why can't I?" She tried sounding desperate and sad in hopes of getting through to her. That wasn't quite difficult, considering that the unexpected rejection on this topic was stirring up just those emotions within Sakura.

"It's dangerous. I'm not allowing it."

"But Okāsan! It's my dream!" She whined screechingly. (Ugh, what a pain it was to be four.)

"No." Not a single glance.

"Why?"

"Sacchan, we aren't a ninja family." Finally, her mother was looking at her. "There's no need for you to do something so dangerous. You have enough time to grow up and decide carefully what you want to become one day."

Her eyes held warmth, like always, but that wasn't enough to hide the stern look directed at her. Then she turned away once more.

"Okāsan, I already decided! I want to do this!" She was panicking, Sakura vaguely noticed.

"You don't understand the gravity of that decision yet and what it means to be a shinobi."

"But– But Nīchan is one! Why can't I?"

Her mother's hands stilled for a fraction of a second. "Yūta is different."

"How?" She needed her mother to compromise on this. She could lie and claim to not actually become a shinobi. She could promise to remain a Genin after graduation. She needed to do something–

Mebuki wiped down the last of the plates and crouched down to her height, a pleading look in her eyes. "Sakura... I don't think this is something we should be arguing about. Trust me once, alright? I just... want the best for you. Especially after–" She cut herself off.

After what? But she couldn't ask that.

"You know... the world is dangerous. More so than you think. I don't think it's the right place for a gentle, innocent girl like you, Sakura. Won't you listen to Okāsan?"

And Sakura couldn't reply anything to those words.

"Why aren't we starting already?" She impatiently asked.

Shisui stopped sharpening his kunai to glance at her. "We're waiting for some people."

"Some people? Who?" She kicked a pile of leaves, causing them to swirl around and scatter across the forest floor. All of those leaves were getting annoying. Shisui said it was good practice, and yes, she understood. But she couldn't help getting irritated when she would come here each week to see more of them, knowing she would definitely slip on them at least once.

Damn leaves.

"I don't have all day, you know."

"Be patient, Sakura-chan."

"I told you to stop calling me that!" She snapped angrily.

Shisui paused. She wondered what words he would hurl back at her. Eventually, he started slowly—gently. "Did something happen today?"

Sakura blinked. Huh? How does he...?

"You usually aren't this... sensitive about the nickname."

It sounded rude, but it wasn't a lie. She never yelled at him for that, not for no reason. Because she didn't actually care that much about the suffix. She was being sensitive.

"... Sorry." Sakura sighed. "I– uhm... was told some disappointing stuff. I had something planned, and things just didn't go my way, and... and you know."

She didn't want to tell Shisui about the Academy. What if he told her the same things as her mother? That she was too young, too innocent. That it was too dangerous. What if it snapped him back to reality and he realized that she was, in fact, a child?

But he was persistent about this kind of stuff. Surely he wouldn't let this go, just like that other time—

"No, I get it. Everyone has their bad days. I know people whose every day is a bad day." Shisui grinned. "Like my uncle."

And Sakura almost gaped. He... dropped it? Just like that? Maybe she should re-evaluate her opinion on him. Sakura chuckled, the tenseness of her body leaving her along with a white puff of breath condensing in the cool air. It was November. "But really, who are we waiting for?" She could always figure the stuff with the Academy out later. The year wouldn't start until April.

Yeah. She still had time.

"Who is that girl?" The boy grumbled, his tone holding a sort of disapproval that Sakura thought it shouldn't be allowed to have at his age.

'So what if I'm a girl?' She almost replied in an equally objecting tone, because she wasn't supposed to meet him this soon.

"Now, now, Sasuke-kun. That's not how you talk to someone you meet for the first time, is it? Be respectful." Shisui berated him, and thank God he didn't speak to her that way anymore.

"... Sorry, Shisui-san." Sasuke said, suddenly meek at the criticism of his senior. He dropped his head swiftly. Though it wasn't fast enough to hide the obvious dissatisfaction he still held. All things considered, it was still surprising to see Sasuke attempt to show some remorse.

Maybe Shisui didn't see it due to not being on eye level with Sasuke (like her). He patted Sasuke's head. "Don't you think you should apologize to her rather than me? Hm?"

"... No."

And there it is. That was the Sasuke she knew. It seemed he wasn't close to Shisui at this point, if at all. Anyone who knew Shisui well enough would know better than to not take his words with a hint of sarcasm. Sasuke should've remained standfast from the beginning if he was going to refuse to apologize and then not elaborate any further.

Itachi gave Sasuke a long look, who eventually mumbled something resembling an apology. Though he did end up glaring at Sakura for the entirety of Shisui's conversation with Itachi. The two went to stand at a small distance for that, leaving Sakura and Sasuke semi-alone together.

Sakura pretended to be distracted by some deer in the distance while listening in. She really wanted to know why Sasuke of all people was here. Sure, he was an Uchiha and Shisui's cousin. But she hadn't planned to meet him yet. It should have been at the Academy. When she would have figured out how to treat him. And Ino. And Naruto.

This was all wrong.

From what she understood, Shisui deemed her ready for some physical training beyond just stamina improvement. They had been doing this for three weeks by now, after all. And since Sasuke was going to be learning how to aim projectiles from Itachi, it had seemed like a good idea to have the two of them co-train.

"Maybe she'll make friends with Sasuke. I don't think she has any." Shisui said in a low voice, glancing at Sakura. She made sure to inconspicuously make eye contact with him at that, just to let him know that she had heard that. He probably knew anyway.

Itachi nodded. "Sasuke needs social connections. Forming a bond with a future year-mate is good." It seemed Sasuke wasn't entirely consumed with glaring at everything, as he grumbled something under his breath that sounded awfully like "I don't need girl friends."

"I don't want to be your girlfriend either." Sakura said, finally giving in to the childish desire to counter his (also childish) behavior.

Sasuke's eyes widened in surprise, and, come on, had he never seen a girl talk before or what? "You–!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I didn't say girlfriend!"

"What did you say then?"

"I said girl friend." He replied with a serious expression, emphasizing each word.

Sakura shrugged. "Sounds the same to me as girlfriend."

"No! You're wrong!"

It was fun to see how the boy before her was getting all riled up by her words, even when she wasn't actually pronouncing them any different. It was hard to believe that the cold, aloof man she had always known him as had been a naive, immature boy at one point.

She must've been too distracted by her amusement, too concentrated on the bigger picture–the end goal–, too preoccupied with becoming stronger, too forgetting, that a question briefly crossed her mind.

What made him change?

It took no more than a second to process that thought. Oh, right. Foolish her.

The Massacre.

The one that would take place in less than two years. The one that would force a thirteen-year old Itachi's hand to murder his own kin. The one that would scar Sasuke forever.

The first thing she needed to prevent.

"Have you used kunai before?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you know how to properly hold one?"

"Yeah." Sakura grabbed the kunai Shisui held out for her, consciously stopping her muscle memory from automatically kicking in. She fiddled around with it, slowly curling her fingers around the hilt while supporting her wrist with her other hand.

One. Two. Three.

Halting her movement, she released her wrist and raised her other hand to show the teenager the Kunai, neatly placed inside her palm. Shisui didn't look surprised, and neither did Itachi. Sasuke, however, seemed to make an effort to look in the opposite direction. Sakura's eyes wandered back to Shisui, who nodded towards her.

Itachi turned to his brother. "Sasuke."

Said Uchiha visibly perked up at the call of his older brother. "Yeah, Nīsan?"

"Do what she did."

Sasuke wasted no time at all, practically ripping out a Kunai from his own leg pouch. It didn't take him two seconds to twirl the weapon into position, expertly held and ready to be thrown without risk of injuring himself. The first person Sasuke proceeded to look at was not Itachi, but Sakura as his mouth pulled into a smug smile.

Seeing Sakura unimpressed, the young Uchiha scowled. She almost expected him to stick out his tongue at her, but it seemed he wasn't on that level of childish. Shisui clapped, looking every bit impressed. "Wow, Sasuke-kun! You're gonna surpass me soon at this rate! Itachi, you should be prouder of him!"

Sasuke's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he looked at Itachi expectantly.

"Well done, Sasuke."

"By the way, where did you learn that?"

"What?" She glanced up, setting the kunai in her hand aside for a moment. Sasuke and her were practicing throwing at targets. Mostly in silence, apart from the occasional correction from either Itachi or Shisui.

Shisui cocked his head. "You know, the kunai. How you're supposed to hold it."

Yeah, this wasn't 'by the way' at all.

Sakura shrugged. "From a friend." Time to pull out the Keito-card.

"A shinobi?"

"He failed the graduation exam."

"What's his name? How old is he?" He asked before adding, "Maybe I know him."

"Keito. And his age... maybe around fifteen? He never told me. Anything else, officer?" Sakura furrowed her brows.

Shisui didn't seem disappointed at the interruption to his impromptu interrogation. Rather, he sighed in a resigned manner. "Yes, that's it. And won't you stop treating me like an interrogator? I'm just curious, you know."

"That's exactly what an undercover cop would say." That term was typical for this time, right? It had died out along with the establishment of the Police Force in her time.

"I'm not an–Oh... Fuck." Shisui cut off his words, a devastated expression crossing his face. "I am an undercover cop."

Itachi next to him sighed. "Being a member of the Police Force doesn't make you an 'undercover cop'."

"But I am mainly there for information gathering! That I do undercover." Shisui insisted.

"You aren't supposed to– no, never mind."

The curly-haired boy shrugged. "It's just us here. You already know, Sasuke was going to learn at one point anyway... and Sakura..." He shot her a quick look.

Sakura smirked. "I wasn't going to mention it, but if it's that important information... You know, there's a lot of people who'd benefit from knowing who to look out for..." She trailed off.

"Wh– What?!" Sasuke sputtered, finally losing his composure. "You're gonna sell Shisui-san out?!"

"I'm home!" Sakura yelled as she entered the house. After some convincing and whining about wanting to go to the library whenever she wanted, she had managed to convince her mother to give her one of the spare keys. She was finally able to act more freely since, up until that point, leaving the house had only been possible when someone was home. That someone was mostly her brother because their mother was always working... somewhere.

Right. Where did she work? She was a librarian, yet Sakura had never seen her at a library. And she had scoured enough of them by this point in search of useful books to be able to quite confidently claim that her mother wasn't working at any of Konoha's well-known libraries. Another thing: most libraries wouldn't open before 7 a.m. and would usually close after 6 p.m. But Mebuki always left earlier and came back later than that. On Fridays, she'd be home up until noon and leave after that.

Lately, her mother would become restless during that time and pace around the house. Maybe that was why her question had been met with such a strong refusal. But Friday was the only time she could reasonably make such a request, apart from late into the evenings when her mother was exhausted from work.

Why Fridays? No library closed on such a random day. But that was no question she could ask herself. She'd already made the mistake of believing 'simple questions' to be acceptable once. And that time, it had been Yūta's age. Who knew what asking after her mother's profession would result in?

Sakura climbed the stairs after throwing a quick glance at the living room. No one seemed to be home. Her mother was at work, and Yūta was away on a mission. She opened the door to her room and reached behind her bed, where she had created a small space between the back of the couch and the wall.

Finally she was alone. Once more, she listened for any noises from downstairs. Then she pulled out the cardboard box.

It was time to read the damn book.

Chapter Text

Sakura flipped open the deceiving cover of the seemingly inconspicuous book. And once again she read the first words—the most provocative title to a book she'd ever come across.

She hadn't imagined it after all.
Of course, that would've made things far too easy for her.

Sakura was almost disappointed to find all of this hadn't simply been an intricate prank when she turned the page and read the headline at the top of a long text.

'1: The Uchiha—The Most Savage and Depraved Clan of the Elemental Nations'

The first thing she noticed were several underlined passages of the text scattered across the page. Taking a quick look at them, Sakura found the highlighted words to be just that—some reasonably placed highlights. Maybe the author was putting emphasis on the important bits by underlining in dark blue rather than plain black like the text.

Sakura began reading.

The text itself was rather tame compared to the accompanying title. It summarized the history of the Uchiha in a short paragraph, which was quite contradictory to what the headline implied, as Sakura had expected an elaborate introduction, starting from the enigmatic origins of the clan and their ablities, their steady uprising, to the massive territory they eventually ruled under their amassed power.

The first part of the book had none of that. Instead, most of that page and the following ten or so discussed the mystery of their dominant, prevailing powers. The focus lay on the question of how the gods would allow such overpowering and mighty eyes to exist when most hoping to amass the power the Uchiha possessed would have to do so by mastering hard-earned techniques created and passed down by one's ancestors. The Mangekyō, especially, was described as the prime example of said imbalance.

'It endows its wielders with powers far beyond the rightful limits of mortal men. Such abilities, bordering upon the divine, create a grievous imbalance. To allow these forces to contend among the common man is a profound disruption of the natural order.'

In other words, the author thought it was unfair.

The whole text was written in a degrading manner, dehumanizing the Uchiha by making them out to be vicious beasts that only cared about spilling the blood of their victims. At the same time, righteous people with 'fairly-gained abilities' were held in high regard, praised even.

On page 15, Sakura saw the first annotation.

Messy, scratchy handwriting next to neat, cursive letters. The words held the same hue of dark blue that the underlines were in.

Right. This book had been commented by someone. The same person who'd marked down the approximate publication date.

The annotation—if it could even be called that—was nothing out of the ordinary. The author had gotten a date wrong by a few years, which was corrected. It was about an ambush on another clan, the Senju. The author mentioned it amongst other examples to further undermine the cruelty of the Uchiha. In that particular case, they had attacked a child in a place far away from the main battle, leaving it to bleed out alone in the depths of a forest.

It was cruel, yes, but Sakura couldn't help but think that such actions went both ways. Both Uchiha and Senju had been ambushing each other in dishonorable ways and would use dirty tricks. The author was clearly biased, though she had known that from the moment she read the title.

Sakura skimmed through the rest of the first chapter. It was all repetition of the same few points; the Uchiha were evil like no other; granting them magical eyes for nothing was against the balance of nature; real Shinobi made sacrifices for power, and therefore you should hate them too. She began wondering if the title had been a fluke; maybe the author didn't know anything concrete after all.

Sakura finished part one with a flicker of hope, because maybe she could leave it at the gates or put it back. Doing the latter hadn't been an option back then. The library workers had seen 'Kakashi' making a beeline to the box that held the book—they couldn't know that she had originally gone for the chakra book and gotten off track when she saw a dusty box underneath—and proceeded to groan and curse after studying the book for some time. Sakura had had no guarantee that the book was harmless or that the woman at the counter wouldn't be curious and pick it up afterwards. It didn't even have that weird spell that artificially caused one to lose interest anymore.

Once someone of high enough power got their hands on the damn thing, the next things to happen were pretty clear; the book would reach the Uchiha through some way or another, the clan head reads it and finds the contents to hold clan secrets, the library workers are questioned, Kakashi is approached but he couldn't have been at the library that day, so professionals are ordered to find any residue chakra—and Sakura didn't know how advanced those techniques were at this point—and then the Uchiha had a lead and she would have to live in constant fear of how much they knew and what she could allow herself to do.

Sakura turned a page, murmuring to herself, "But if the book doesn't hold any dangerous information—"

'2: The Gruesome and Inhuman Means to Attain Preternatural Powers'

As she read the text beneath, with growing horror dawning upon her, it became clear that the book title that had first led her to take the books home wasn't of words without substance—it was exactly what she had feared.

'I, along with many others, once believed that the eyes of the Uchiha were a gift bestowed by the gods. Yet, the truth is far darker. The Uchiha have deceived the world, claiming that the Sharingan, along with all it entails, was granted to their family by the Goddess Amaterasu. But, as my readers well know, I have revealed the Sharingan to be nothing of divine origin. I now write once more to uncover the same truth about the Mangekyō Sharingan, a monstrous perversion of the Sharingan.

'It stands thus; the Uchiha partake in a hidden and grisly rite, concealed from the eyes of the mortal world—and even from the gods themselves.

'For the nature of the ritual is wholly inhumane, an affront to the teachings bestowed upon us by the Sage from whom they claim to be descended.'

Her eyes wandered down, as she desperately hoped not to find the words that'd hammer the final nail to her conclusion.

But there it was.

'Seduced by the power that the act confers, they slay their own kin and gouge out the eyes of their closest relatives.'

Sakura sucked in sharp breath. "Fuck. I'm dead."

As the chapters progressed, the revelations of the author were explained in fine detail. It mentioned the requirements to awakening the final form of the Sharingan, the Mangekyō (Sakura let out a relieved sigh, realizing the author didn't know about the Rinnegan.) and the drawbacks of using it; eventual blindness.

There was a long description of the history of the Uchiha attempting to prevent losing their sight: the discovery of a method that the author titled 'replacement eyes', experiments conducted in a hidden corner of the Uchiha clan that would test the limits of the procedure—'The report delineates that a blood match of no less than three tenths must be established, which pertains to siblings or cousins of remarkably close relation'—a series of internal conflicts that happened between members of branch families, in which siblings would challenge each other with stakes that would go as far as the sacrifice of the defeated one's eyes.

The sheer amount of detail was ridiculous. Hell, there was a two-page list of documented Mangekyō abilities with the name and date of death of each user.

Some parts were incomprehensible. The author would go on and on about a theory that made no sense, writing with no foundation and into murky nothingness. Some bits and pieces of an otherwise coherent text seemed out of place. 'The Mangekyo is not possible to recreate.' a line said. Huh?

That didn't change anything about the main fact. Much as she had first feared, the author did know top-secret information. It was severe and detrimental. And the book was almost certainly illegal, not to mention the wrath of the Uchiha that the existence of this tome would incur.

And she had taken it home.

Damn.

There was another thing that was almost as bad as the contents of the book: the comments.

Sakura had tried to ignore them for the most part in favor of concentrating on reading the contents of the text and attempting to maintain her-fucking-calmness, but the amount of navy words at the side picked up along with the pace of the author's descent into vehemence.

It started with harmless things—skeptic reactions towards the claims made in the book.

'Must investigate source of these allegations' below an underlined passage detailing a siege that ended in defeat because a majority of the Uchiha participating in the battle had awakened the Sharingan at least two decades prior, causing an overall low reaction time to visual inputs.

'Evidence of validity needed before making such claims.' next to a particularly gruesome incident that apparently happened in the midst of a drought.

'motives and originis of the author suspect.' and in smaller letters underneath that, 'an Uchiha himself?'

Then the author revealed the secret to attaining the Mangekyo, and the person's skepticism and suspicion abruptly disappeared, as if it were clear to them that this revelation was the truth.

'If true, this is a betrayal of everything we stand for.' The first two words were scribbled out—realization in retrospect?

'Such inhumane rituals cannot be tolerated.'

On one hand, they seemed to be swayed by the fury that the author was expressing, and the comments were filled with short, angry reactions.

'Utterly vicious'

'a grotesque mockery of true strength.'

On the other hand, some paragraphs were met with speculation and theories of the person themselves.

'connection to Byakugan? Records on similiar ancestry between U. and H. could hint at further potential in H'

An unusually long annotation was next to the list. The person noted down further aspects, like familial ties between people, and called attention to some properties occurring two or three times across multiple people, specifically the fact some of them were closely related. They wondered about a correlation between blood ties and the chances of certain mutations of the Mangekyo appearing.

Those things weren't bad or anything. Most of the time, it was what Sakura expected of someone commenting an old book.

But then there were... other things. Things that some of the comments implied.

One, T.S. was in a high position.

T.S. was providing information. And not just any—confidential information. They knew about matters concerning other noble clans, such as their methods of training and the workings of their techniques. Clan secrets.

They wrote the most about the Uchiha. Paragraphs upon paragraphs of history, down to the personalities of Clan Heads, minor political disputes between the Uchiha elders, jutsu unique to the Uchiha clan and their weaknesses, the specific workings of the Sharingan, at which moments to strike when facing an Uchiha, and how the drawbacks of the Sharingan made them 'easier to kill'.

This person had access to classified information—a lot of it. And getting so much on a highly respected clan was damn-near impossible as a person of less standing.

Two, T.S. lived during the Founding of Konoha.

Sakura didn't find it hard to figure out the time that the book was commented, even though it was never specifically mentioned. Quite the opposite; it was almost impossible not to know the time frame after a certain point, with how much T.S. was referencing certain people.

'How can we trust those who practice such darkness? Why form an alliance?'

One part talked about the legend that described the Uchiha descending from Gods. The author—by this point wholly immersed in reveling in their own discoveries—narrated about the myth of the Rinnegan ("Aha! Here it is!" Sakura exclaimed at reading the word.) and noted how it would be pursued by some Uchiha as the ultimate evolution of their eyes. And, while many didn't go that far, the Uchiha would use a tale of divine selection as leverage for feeding into their drive for power.

'This explains their behavior. Madara's ambition knew no bounds—dangerous and unpredictable. Konoha rid itself of him for good.'

Next to another paragraph, 'Anija's faith in the Uchiha ultimately led to that man's well-deserved demise.'

And finally,

'My brother's vision of joint rule with Madara was never feasible, as he designed the Hokage's seat of power to only ever be accessible to a single individual.'

It was unmistakably clear.

T.S. stood for Tobirama Senju.

"Well, fuck."

"'A lack of increase in chakra reserves is often a result of a lack of knowledge in the field, overestimation of one's capabilities, or confirmation bias. Meditation and frequent use lead to expansion in due time, which is why utmost patience is required.'" Sakura read out loud. She sighed. "... Another garbage 'medical text', it seems."

She had been at this for hours, days even. Every book she picked up was filled with information she already knew by heart and nonsense with no meaning behind it.

Just like now. This text was basically telling her that she was just imagining things and to be more patient. The problem was that she had been patient the past two months and had seen no results.

Her eyes unfocused, Sakura realized she had been reading the page without comprehending the meaning of it—something that had been happening pretty often the past hour. She set the book aside. It didn't seem like she'd learn anything new anyway.

Who would have guessed that her biggest problem after time traveling would be her chakra reserves?

When she had first come here, Sakura had been confident in her ability to train this civilian body into that of a shinobi, a fighter. And she was making progress in the physical department, albeit a small one. After all, she was a medic.

Yet, now she was sitting next to stacks of books and scrolls, struggling to keep her eyes on the tenth book she would read today. And it was not going to be the last.

But really, she couldn't have known.

Sakura couldn't have known that her pocket-sized chakra pool was practically incapable of growing, being stuck and not changing from the meager state she had found it in. Two whole months of daily meditation, and she still couldn't perform more than six E-Rank jutsu.

The books she was reading didn't say anything about cases like these. They all said that, unless the person is unable to mold chakra in the first place, the chakra reserves would increase with enough use, and the process would even be sped up through meditation and physical training.

And she was seeing none of that. Sakura groaned, putting her hands to her face. Do I really have to do it?

The thing was, she knew why her efforts weren't working. She was about 90 percent sure what the cause was. And she could think of exactly one method to solve the issue. Her distress was rooted in the nature of that method. It was tedious, unsafe, and difficult. But it was the only thing that could work.

Her core—the place where physical energy and spiritual energy would be molded into chakra—had looked just fine upon inspection. She wasn't very knowledgeable in that field, but that she could tell.

That didn't matter though.

Her chakra pathways were the real problem.

They weren't... normal. They didn't look the way a healthy person's chakra network should look. Normal people had a few, thick pathways of chakra.

Her pathways, however, were dozens in number and unbelievably thin. It wasn't uncommon for pathways to be slim due to little use, and she had been refraining from using any more chakra than necessary and concentrating on training her body instead.

But this wasn't just 'slim'.

This was paper-thin, 'could snap at any moment' slim.

They were so slim, in fact, that she hadn't noticed at first how tangled up they were.

Upon closer look, her pathways were intertwined and intertwisted, a jumbled mess of impossibly thin strands. There were even areas where they were entangled into a ball of pathways, where she couldn't tell one apart from another. It was tangled on such a miniscule level, there was no way it didn't have any effect on the chakra network's ability to allow smooth passage.

Perhaps that was why her chakra reserves weren't expanding. She had come to that conclusion long ago. Days before her meeting with Kakashi, she had discovered the mess of a network she housed and fallen into a state of shock. Ultimately, she ended up choosing to ignore the obvious problem and search for an alternative cause, even if that meant hours of cramped legs and books upon books of nonsense chakra theory.

Because the other option was that much worse.

That was-Untangling.

Sakura had never heard of someone actually doing it without suffering consequences, but it was technically possible to move the position of chakra pathways. It was possible. But it would be done by breaking the one rule that nobody ever taught shinobi because it was so obvious.

Instead of concentrating chakra at the designated chakra points, one could concentrate it in the middle of a pathway and move the compressed chakra in order to cause motion in the pathway itself.

There were a few things to consider with that method, though. There was a reason why no one did that anymore.

One, extremely high chakra control was required. A lack of control over the energy would quickly lead to clogging up and damage in the pathways. Worst case, the medics wouldn't be able to solve the issue in time, and an area of one's chakra network could be permanently disabled.

Two, there wasn't enough research on that topic to tell whether there were side effects to a higher current of chakra in pathways. It couldn't be without its risks, though, since enough people with chakra control well enough that a mishap was out of the question had suffered damages already.

Three, it would take a long time. A very long time. Making a rough estimate of the amount of chakra pathways—no chakra strands, untangling just the area leading to her right hand—would take at least half a year. And that was assuming she would be quite proficient at it.

In conclusion, it was troublesome. Troublesome and risky.

Sakura had believed she had gotten somewhat used to coming across random changes by now. Well, it turned out she wasn't at all prepared to be faced with arguably the worst starting conditions to become stronger than last time around. Not to mention that the mystery of why all these changes had occurred still remained.

Was untangling really going to be the way to go?

She had already tried meditation. Hours of it. Then she had systematically gone through every listed technique in the most well-known chakra theory books—all to no avail. Next, she had tried the less popular methods, the ones that were only mentioned once, maybe twice, if the author was famous enough. The methods became more and more obscure.

Some had her completely drain her chakra pool while under various different circumstances—while meditating, while submerged in water, while hanging from the ceiling, while making hand signs, while meditating and being submerged in water—and others focused completely on the spiritual part of chakra molding, so she would regularly cleanse her mind and purge any evil energy that may have possessed her, or attempt to feel the life around her.

And after even that wouldn't do anything to her chakra reserves other than repeatedly draining them, she had mostly lost hope.

There was one more thing she could try, though she wasn't sure if that would even do anything at all. It didn't require any chakra. Rather than expanding her chakra pool, the theory of this technique consisted of searching for things that are 'causing disruption in one's mind' by entering her 'lower consciousness', whatever that was supposed to mean. It seemed to be similar to a second mindscape, a deeper one. It sounded overall very strange and untrustworthy.

She likely wouldn't die, though. And that was enough for Sakura to try it.

Chapter Text

There was total silence around her. She couldn't hear her heartbeat.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the hell is this?"

A jelly-like texture underneath her naked feet.

"This isn't how it's supposed to go. The text didn't say anything like this." She muttered angrily.

She stepped on something. The gel squelched. Ew. But at least there was sound other than her voice now. She looked down at the floor. A crystal-clear, gel-like substance. The jelly floor stretched on indefinitely underneath her. She wasn't sure if it went down like that into all of infinity.

"Where the hell am I? I thought I was supposed to go into my mindscape? Is this...?"

Was her lower consciousness really a void of white and... and jelly?

"No way. This can't be it. Where is—?" Where was the stuff?

She didn't have access to her chakra. It made her feel bare. Her feet shuffled in uneasyness. A squelch. She looked down. There was something inside the floor.

It was her forehead protector. Her Hitai-ate. Not the plain black one she had worn the last five years of her life. (Picking and choosing colors wasn't possible in times of war. Forehead protectors only served the use of differentiating between ally and foe in the guise of allys, or else they wouldn't have produced them anymore. After all other resources had run dry, she clung to this one—the last vestige of their alliance, the only symbol that stood as proof of their unity, the mark of a shared fight they could never afford to lose.) Nor was it the one with the rose-colored band that she would later adapt for her first 'Shinobi' headband to use during the war.

It was the very first Hitai-ate she had owned.

A blue band and the engraved symbol of the Hidden Leaf. She had only used this one for two years. Sakura hadn't liked the color. For sake of memories, she had kept it and put it inside a drawer inside her desk. But at some point, she stopped seeing it, partially because she didn't bother to take it out again.

Maybe she had misplaced it. Maybe she had taken it with her when she moved out. Or maybe it had never been gone. And it could have always been there, in the bottom drawer of her childhood desk. Maybe it had only been fully gone after Pain's attack on Konoha.

But now, there it was, trapped inside the glossy gel.

Her eyes stung. She had no chakra to stop it.

Sakura pinched her arm. She shouldn't be getting sentimental. It was distracting. She had things to do—to find.

She didn't know when she had started walking. One moment she was kneeling on the floor, and the next she was traversing the endless plane, walking in no particular direction. A concept of time didn't exist anymore. Perhaps that's why she couldn't remember when she had landed here—because she had been here for an eternity and only just now remembered what she was here for.

There was no time and no aging in this vast place. She was twenty-four years old again. Her arms were just long enough, and her viewpoint was exactly as high as she wanted it. It felt good to be back in the correct body. It felt right.

Just as there was no time, there was also no pain and no exhaustion. She could continue on forever, just like how the world stretched on forever.

The surface felt like walking on a living thing—soft, pliable, yet solid enough to support her weight. It shifted slightly with every step. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the faint squish of her steps against the transparent gel. There was no horizon, no sense of direction—just an infinite sea of emptiness, interrupted only by the strange, gelatinous surface she stood on.

Her only way to know she was moving at all were the objects littered around her, or rather, underneath her. She came across her first stuffed animal, a short distance from the forehead protector. Then her red dress. It carried on like that. Their team picture—the first and last time they had all been together in one—her favorite storybook as a child, her mother's lipstick that she stole when she was seven in order to make herself look pretty, the hairband Ino gifted her, the potted plant she bought for her new apartment, chopsticks that Kakashi left on her doorstep when she turned fourteen, a painting from Sai, her other forehead protector, the extra blanket she'd always have ready for sleepovers with Ino—

Sakura's foot sank when she took her next step. There was a hole in the floor. Jelly was lying scattered around it, almost as if it had been dug out, as if someone had torn a hole into the gel and ripped out what had been inside.

And perhaps just that had happened.

A trail of jelly matter led into the distance. She couldn't see where it ended. She could make out footprints, small dents in the otherwise perfectly flat surface.

Someone else was here.

Sakura started following the trail. It was refreshing to know which way to walk again. It gave her endless walking a purpose.

In all honesty, she hadn't expected anything to happen when she read the manual. The procedure was vague, solely based on feeling around her mindscape and searching for 'openings' in it.

The problem was that said openings were practically impossible to find. Most of the work went just into groping around the edge of her mind, hoping to come across a hole that she didn't even know if she could recognize. After that, the book's instructions turned into mostly gibberish. It was all about spirituality and connecting with the Heavenly Spririt.

The parts she could understand told her to just... do what she wanted...?

Well, that was the essence of it. Mostly, it was about how every lower consciousness was different, just like how the upper mindscape was the reflections of the individual. Entering the deeper mindscape was also a different experience for everyone, so she was supposed to figure it out herself.

To her, that meant ripping the walls apart until the opening was big enough to jump into.

And then she had been here.

The trail led to a person.

Her breath hitched, and all at once, she was intently aware of her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

Because this wasn't just some person.

It was her.

There was something inherently strange in looking at someone who looked just like herself. That effect was enhanced even more by the subtle yet stark differences between the two of them. It was like looking at a clone that didn't quite look like herself. 

The child had pink hair with bangs that covered most of her eyes. Sakura would tuck them behind her ears or braid them away, so it wouldn't restrict her vision.

The small figure wore a neat, light blue dress. It had not even a single crease. Sakura had accidentally ripped a hole into that dress when she tripped last week during training. It had been unsuited for fighting anyway.

The young girl's posture was reserved and shy, curling into herself as if shielding something away from the rest of the world. For Sakura, there was no moment in which she wasn't on guard, wasn't ready to jump into a fighting stance. (Because that is what war does to people.)

Her Inner Child's eyes were shining with awe and wonder, holding a look of carefreeness and unspoiled innocence. Sakura had long forgotten when she had last gone without worries.

Sakura felt tempted to leave the girl be, to simply turn away and start searching again. She wanted to believe that this couldn't be what she was supposed to find here.

'Corruption of one's mind' the book had said.

But, no, this wasn't corruption. Inner wasn't the corruption.

She had almost turned away, had almost left the girl to herself, had almost decided to forget what the hole in the jelly meant—what it meant for her lower consciousness—and had almost gone back...

And then Inner turned around.

Her eyes widened, large circles on her childlike face. The smile she had been wearing as she turned around frozen, dropping in a matter of seconds. She raised her arms, wrapping them around herself.

And the shock and utter terror on her face made Sakura's mind go blank.

Her tongue was heavy in her mouth. She couldn't get out a word. So she instead reached out her hand. The girl flinched. Sakura immediately retracted her hand. Yet, it wasn't fast enough; Inner's body started becoming translucent, her figure dimming away like a fire threatening to die out in harsh wind.

No, don't go. She wanted to say. Don't disappear again.

Sakura ceased all motion—stopped breathing, even—in hopes of putting a stop to the girl's retreat. She had almost fully become transparent, turning see-through. But she wasn't completely gone yet. Sakura could still salvage this.

And so they remained like that for an eternity. Sakura assumed the stillness of an inanimate object, like a statue. She was glad that she didn't actually need to breathe here. Eventually, Inner became whole again, and Sakura couldn't see the endless plains through her body anymore. Strangely, the color of her dress had become darker, more of a navy tone rather than the sky blue of before.

This time, Sakura didn't move closer. Slowly, she took a step back and sat down. Maybe getting on eye level with the girl would help in making her look less intimidating. For Inner, all of this must be even worse, she thought. Though Sakura didn't know how much Inner knew about their situation, it should still be quite unsettling to suddenly be met face-to-face with an older version of herself. A version of oneself that was covered in scars and who held a look that spoke of suffering and many years of war.

Speaking of looks—perhaps putting on some child-friendly clothes would help, Sakura wondered. Her current state was no basis for holding a proper conversation. This was still her mindscape, right? She should be able to...

Inner watched closely as Sakura willed a gray tank top and pants into existence. At least she didn't look absolutely terrified anymore, just... scared.

Sakura thought to wait for Inner to speak up first. But as that moment seemed to never come, she remembered that the girl before wasn't all that different from her own, four-year-old self. Back then, she had been too shy to talk in front of strangers, especially adults. Only after ridding herself of the constant shower of ridicule by her bullies and befriending Ino had she grown the confidence to socialize.

While this Sakura in front of her hadn't lived the exact same life, their personalities were probably still quite similar.

And Sakura was getting impatient herself. Fortunately, her mouth obeyed her this time. "...Hi." Immediately, she wanted to slap herself. Wow, strong performance. Couldn't I think of something better?

Inner avoided her eyes and curled further into herself, gripping something in her arms tightly. Maybe she didn't like being stared at. Sakura looked into the glossy void instead. "What have you got there?"

"...me."

Oh. What was that supposed to mean? But Sakura continued on, letting the smile she wore be audible as she spoke. "I see. Can you show me?"

There was silence, and Sakura could only imagine that the girl was hesitantly looking at her now, so she added, "I'll only look. I won't take anything away from you, I promise."

It seemed that got her to react. She stopped gripping the object, raising it for Sakura to see. It was covered in the jelly, she noticed. Then she realized that she recognized it. Inner was holding one of the stuffed dolls. Specifically, it was the 'Sakura' doll.

Of course. It was only clear that the doll would also be here, along with all the other objects that ever held meaning in Sakura's life.

"That's a cute doll. It looks just like you." Sakura was glad that her experience from working with children hadn't worn off yet. Back then, too, she'd have to talk with scared children. "I used to have dolls like that, too, you know? I really liked them, played for hours upon hours. Do you like your doll?"

Inner nodded. "Uh-huh."

"That's great! And you're even wearing the same dress as little you!"

The girl looked down at her dress as if seeing it for the first time. "Really?" She asked with big eyes.

"For sure! It's the same shade of green, see?" Indeed, the doll's dress held the same forest-green color that Inner's dress also was in.

"Oh..." Inner's mouth curled into a small smile. "You look like the doll, too."

Sakura chuckled. "Thank you."

Inner's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Huh? Why... do you look like me? Who are you, miss?"

"Oh, you don't have to be so formal with me. It's just us here. But, you know, you're supposed to introduce yourself first. That's what the adults do." Sakura stalled while her mind raced. What was the best thing to say now? Did that mean Inner wasn't aware of who she was?

Inner nodded, looking ashamed. "Right... Okāsan said that. I'm Sakura."

Sakura widened her eyes, attempting to look surprised. "Really? My name is Sakura, too! What a coincidence! Maybe... maybe we look similar because our names are the same? What do you think, Sakura-chan?" Saying her own name felt weird, but she'd have to push through.

Inner looked thoughtful. Had her explanation been too much of a stretch? It didn't really make any sense after all. But nevertheless, it seemed enough for the four-year-old. "Oh... I think— yeah... maybe"

"The floor here is really squishy, isn't it?"

"...yeah."

"I almost fell over earlier. How do you not trip when you walk?"

"I just... go there. Then I don't have ta walk."

"Oh, wow. That sounds amazing. So, you don't need to walk at all to go somewhere else?"

"Yeah. Wait, I can show you."

Sakura was almost worried that she had scared Inner off, as her body quickly faded and disappeared into nothingness. Then she became visible again, standing a few feet away from her last location. "Did you see?" The girl asked, almost excitedly. Her light yellow dress fluttered as she started to run back. She didn't seem affected by the unstable floor, instead almost gliding over the gel-like surface.

That body is only a vessel, Sakura realized in that moment. That was why Inner could become translucent and why the color of her dress wasn't consistent. She had created an imaginary body—an illusion of a human form—for her to inhabit here, inside her lower consciousness. Because, in reality, she was just the essence of a soul.

Inner didn't have a body. Not anymore.

"I did see! That was really cool!"

And now it had become even more obvious that the girl wasn't actually in a real human body. Even after running, her breath wasn't labored or quickened. Sakura wasn't sure if she breathed at all. Instead of actually walking over the floor, it looked like she was floating. Her hair was tied up in two pigtails now, and she was wearing knee-length shorts underneath her dress. Was this how her mother would style her when they went to the park to play?

It seemed Inner's appearance changed along with her mood and her thoughts.

She was glad that Inner had her own mind. It had been so, so cruel to take her body away. So at least her thoughts would remain her own.

And doesn't she seem happy here?

"By the way, Sakura-chan?"

Inner perked up. Apparently, she wasn't scared of Sakura anymore. Great.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Um... I don't know. It's somewhere far away. It's hidden."

Hidden? "Do you not want to be found? Is that why you are here?"

"I'm here, because... I don't know."

"Why did you take the doll? It was in the jelly, wasn't it?"

"No. It was trapped." Inner said in a low tone. Then she whispered, "I took it, 'cuz it's mine."

Sakura pretended she didn't hear that last bit. "Why did you just take the doll out? There was other stuff, too. I saw a teddy bear over there."

"I saw them. The dolls."

"Did you dream of your doll?"

"No. I played with them. When I was outside. When you let me outside."

Oh.

Sakura didn't answer. The girl continued. "Miss, I don't want to be here. I hate this place. I hate the jelly." Inner pulled her arms around her knees. "I wanna leave. I wanna be outside forever." In a quiet, quivering voice, she asked, "Can you take me back again, miss? I wanna go home."

Sakura let out a soft, ironic laugh. What a fool she had been. There was no way Inner could have been happy here.

The young girl was crying, sniffling quietly as she rubbed the tears away. Sakura knew what would come next. It was clear as day.

She had always been the type to run away from unpleasant emotions.

Inner faded away, quicker than ever before, leaving a gel-coated doll lying on the floor. And Sakura was alone again, staring into the infinite expanse of empty plains.

Perhaps it was time to leave.

Sakura ate breakfast the next morning with a numb feeling. Every movement felt heavy, like she was going through the motions of a life that no longer felt hers, and each word she spoke to her mother felt like a betrayal to the child she had just left behind, like a mockery to Inner.

What now?

It was only that afternoon that she remembered the reason she had tried that technique in the first place. She still had a problem to solve.

After much contemplation, it still seemed like untangling was the only thing she could do if she was ever going to dream of expanding her chakra reserves. If left in this state, the strands would probably start to merge together in some places the more she used her chakra. And, while looking just like the chakra network of normal people on the outside, the actual pathways would still remain separate. Once it got to that, she wouldn't be able to change it, even with the pathway-moving technique. Any hope of solving the issue—if she wouldn't have found a solution by that time already—would be lost.

Sakura sighed.

She stood up and stretched. It wouldn't hurt to loosen up her limbs a bit before sitting down for the foreseeable future. She would start untangling right now.

Screw the risks.

If it was going to take years, she should at least start as fast as possible, right?

Chapter Text

Sakura decided to burn the book.

It wouldn't do any good to keep it, and leaving it at the Uchiha compound gates was out of the question. It was very unlikely for anyone alive to know of the existence of the book; it had gathered a lot of dust by the time she found it.

Presumably, the last person to have seen that book was Tobirama Senju—which she had yet to come to terms with, because what the fuck, she knew that he hadn't been a fan of the Uchiha clan, but this wasn't just 'not a fan'—and after annotating it with a shit ton of curses directed towards the clan they had forged an alliance with, he had left it in a cardboard box in a hidden corner behind a curtain. Why he would put it back, she didn't know. This tome sounded exactly like the type of book that would be stored away in the Senju compound's library. Or at the very least the Second Hokage's personal library.

Hypothetically, if she was a passionate Uchiha-hater who had angrily commented a book, she'd quietly sneak it into a less well-known library and wait for someone who hasn't yet formed a clear opinion on the Uchiha clan to read it, be converted into the hate club, and hopefully even tell others about their opinion, eventually leading to a steadily growing number of fellow angry people that resent the Uchiha. And all that would happen without anyone knowing that it was her who had first put this movement in motion by annotating the book and leaving it at a place where the laws on book taboos weren't reinforced very strictly.

Because, first and foremost, she wouldn't write down her fucking initials.

And, secondly, she wouldn't hide the book in the top floor of the biggest library in Konoha, a place only Shinobi of high rank had access to. Shinobi, who were likely to have met Uchiha and who would be smart enough to deduce that most of the book was discriminating bullshit.

Really, was the Second actually as smart as they say? If anyone else had found this just a few decades prior—when Tobirama was still alive—this would have turned into a huge problem.

Personally, she wouldn't have done that—

"I'm getting off track. Stay focused, Sakura. You're playing with fire." She murmured to herself.

Literally 'playing with fire.' Sakura finally lowered the match that had almost completely burned off by now and liberated her fingers from the searing heat they had been exposed to while she had been lost in thought. She watched the small hill of flammable materials she had gathered go up in flames. There was a bit of firewood, sticks from the ground, incense sticks she had found on the kitchen shelf—her cover story in case anyone saw her doing this in her backyard was a 'failed attempt at creating a lavender-smell campfire'—all the notes she had planned to burn, because they held too dangerous information—

...and at the bottom of the 'campfire' was the book.

'The Land of Wind—Three: Flora and Fauna' glared up at her as she watched the deceiving title be consumed by hungry flames.

Serves you right, bastard. She didn't even know who she was directing those words at. The author—for writing a shitty book with a shitty main point, but somehow still managing to include tons of classified information—Tobirama Senju—for not stashing the book away after venting out his resentment—or was it the book itself—for existing and interfering with her plans?

Or maybe it was all of them. This whole ordeal was causing her so much stress, it wasn't even funny.

But now she had burned it. Finally, she was done with that problem.

The next few days flew by in a blur. Well, not really. Sakura continued her usual routine of training every day in the forest—on the other side of the Village though, Shisui wasn't supposed to know about her secret training. She mostly focused on becoming familiar with her body and training in medical Ninjustu and, consecutively, her chakra control. Later on, it'd help her in storing up chakra for the Byakugō.

Once she was sure her chakra network wouldn't be permanently damaged by it, she could start practicing all the Jutsu that she had always wished to have learned earlier last time around.

There was the added step of untangling her chakra pathways in the afternoon too.

She ended up visiting the main library once more on Monday to retrieve the chakra rehabilitation book she had spotted that time, but she found the place bustling with Shinobi, which is why she left again after pretending to read a picture book for some time (one could never be cautious enough).

So far, her search for a chakra theory book that didn't just focus on 'how to have amazing chakra control' was fruitless. Just because she was working on solving the problem, it didn't mean she was done with this topic. Sakura would much rather prefer something less dangerous and tedious than what she was attempting now. (That's right, 'attempting.' She wasn't even sure if it would work at all.)

The more well-known libraries were no luck, so on Wednesday, she went to a small bookstore on the far east of Konoha. As expected, the amount of somewhat useful content fell immensely upon switching to a place that wasn't meant for Shinobi customers. There had been a reason why she started with the big libraries after all.

If this continued on, Sakura would have to expand her perimeter to outside the Village soon. She originally hadn't planned to leave Konoha before she could fight decently and protect herself from dangerous people. This wasn't her time—border control was getting more lax by the year due to a lack of imminent danger like adjacent enemy nations. This was a time in which missing-nin were thriving, benefiting from big nations concentrating more on building up funds and reversing the damage done during the Third Great Shinobi War, rather than keeping some bandits in check. Back in her world, it was only after Orochimaru, one of Konoha's most wanted missing-nin, managed to sneak in hundreds of soldiers into the heart of the Fire Nation that the Kage began to tighten border control and keep an eye on the amount of criminals in their nations again.

But that had yet to happen. Right now, the Elemental Nations were a dangerous place. Especially for a young, unaccompanied, weak child like her.

Sakura hoped she would find something soon.

Yūta seemed to be on a long mission. She hadn't seen him in a while. Her brother being gone meant that her mother would be home more—or at least try to be—because she couldn't leave her four-year-old alone at home all the time. During those days, Sakura made several unsuccessful attempts to convince her mother to allow her to attend the Academy.

No matter what she said, Mebuki would brush her off.

She seemed to be dead set on not giving Sakura the permission or an explanation. Whenever Sakura asked why she couldn't become a shinobi, her mother would act strange, avoiding the topic once she told her usual bit of 'it's too dangerous.'.

Sakura wondered why.

The time for Academy applications would start in a few weeks. If she didn't have her mother convinced by then, Sakura would have to come up with a plan. All of her current options didn't sound particularly promising, though.

(Sakura's pen pressed down on the paper in her notebook. Huh. She always seemed to come back to this method to sort her thoughts.

Plan A:
Convince mother somehow. Ask nicely

This was by far the safest and most effective option. But the chances of Okāsan agreeing seemed to be dropping each time she asked.

Plan B:
Lie and sneak into Academy.

For six years? She wasn't exactly unsure about her acting skills, but that was definitely impossible to hide that long.

She scribbled it out.

Plan C:
Get my hands on a recommendation to join the   Academy, convince my mother by arguing with the law. She can't disagree if the law forces it.

This was the meaner counterpart to Plan A. She didn't want to act it out. She didn't want to hurt her mother.

And...

The only thing left was...

p lan ?:
give up?

Her hand stilled. The ink started seeping through the paper, a dark splotch of black on the pristine sheet.

No.)

Thursday, she cut her hair. It had been long overdue, as the long bangs were getting on her nerves during training. She felt sorry for her past self and Inner, who had probably been grateful for the long bangs, but this was definitely necessary. Her mother had looked happy upon hearing her request to go to a hair salon.

Well, 'happy' probably wasn't the right word for her demeanor. 'Relieved,' maybe.

But why relieved, Okāsan? She almost asked.

Then it was Friday again, and Sakura made her way to her training spot.

Sakura lowered her arm to her thigh, reaching for a pouch that was not there. She planted one of her feet in front of her and positioned her body to face straight towards the target—a marked sheet of paper nailed to a tree. Her arm raised, and she pulled her forearm back slightly. She gripped the handle of the Kunai, curling her fingers around it while having her thumb point towards the tip of the blade. Then she released the pressure she had been building up in her arm and flung the Kunai forward.

It flew through the air in an arc, spinning twice around its axis, before hitting the target with a loud clank—it had collided with one of the other Kunai she had thrown earlier.

Shisui raised his voice from the side, flashing her a grin. "You're getting more consistent now, good."

"None of them hit bullseye." Sakura replied.

"But all of your throws hit the target. Most Academy students in their last year still struggle with their aim. No need to stress yourself this much." He shrugged. "And you're doing great for your age."

He wasn't wrong. This was good for a four-year-old. Great, even.

But she wasn't four. Frustration bubbled up inside her. She was supposed to know how to do this, for fuck's sake. Throwing Kunai used to be as easy as breathing for her. Why was she struggling?

It's all because of this body.

Her arms were too short. Her viewpoint was too low. Her footing was never as steadfast as she wanted it to be. Her wrists were too weak. Her balance was thrown off after every throw.

She was too weak.

Sasuke was staring at her, she noticed then. "Why're you being so gloomy?" He asked. "Shisui-san is saying it was good, so be satisfied with that."

"I'm not being 'gloomy.'" She shot back, letting her discontentment get the better of her. He didn't understand. This wasn't just about the Kunai not hitting the bullseye. She used to be able to throw dozens of Kunai at moving targets and hit the center with every single one of them. Now she barely manages to do that after a dozen tries. She used to be an ace when it came to calculating trajectories. If she threw it, the Kunai was guaranteed to land wherever she intended it to land, no matter where she was positioned—whether it was high up in a tree, while in free-fall, or while running away from the target.
Now she struggled to do so even when directly facing it.

Her aim used to be one of the only things she prided herself in as a Ninja. She had always done badly at the physical portion of Academy training. But throwing knives was the one thing that had made her feel like a real Kunoichi back then. To young, twelve-year-old Sakura, it had been her only talent. It had been her everything.

(It took her two more years to learn to wear the title of 'Paper-Ninja' with a proud face; to not lower her head in shame when reminded of the fact she would never have the capabilities to recreate the things she could so easily make happen in her head.)

But Sasuke didn't understand. Talented, 'Rookie of the year' Sasuke couldn't understand.

She was frustrated because she had already mastered all of this once, painstakingly. She was only 'great for her age' now because of hours of drilling the motion into her body. And now she was back at square one again.

"Yes, you are, Pinkie." Sasuke said, scowling.

Sakura turned away. This was ridiculous. She had nothing to gain from exploding at Sasuke now.

Sasuke, after a few moments, turned to his Kunai practice too.

Itachi wasn't there this time. Sakura dared to admit she was grateful for his absence. Lately, she had started to come to terms with the prospect of seeing Itachi on a regular basis.

And, yes, she knew that he didn't pose a threat to her. He had never been one to her in the first place. All of his crimes and the reason he was despised and hated in Konoha were a result of a much bigger problem that hadn't even been properly solved in the end.

Itachi shouldn't have had to pay for wanting to keep his younger brother alive. He shouldn't have been faced with an ultimatum that was doomed from the start. He shouldn't have been forced to choose between his family and his Village.

Sakura understood all that. Still, she couldn't help herself from being wary in the presence of someone she had known as a ruthless mass murderer for most of her life.

Sometime during the second year of the war, Sasuke had opened up to Naruto and her. It had been a chilly night, far too cold to sleep outside. And yet, the three of them had been lying in the entrance of a cave. Team 7 was chosen as the 'guard' of sorts, the first line of defense in case someone found them. The rest of the group, which consisted of around thirty people, had been deeper inside, where it was much less cold.

She didn't know what had compelled Sasuke to speak up first. He just started talking suddenly, out of nowhere. His voice was quiet and low—Sakura thought it may have been shaking—and his breath formed white puffs in the cool air as he spoke. And he began telling the story of a martyr that killed his own family.

Sakura never once saw his face while he talked. And maybe that was for the better.

After that, interacting with Sasuke became much easier. It felt like their bond had finally started to be rebuilt.

Thinking of Itachi, Sasuke's older brother, would make her stomach twist with a mix of emotions ranging from disgust to regret. But thinking of a man long dead was different from seeing him young and alive again.

Perhaps she'd never be able to fully forget the things he hadn't done here—for all the hurt he had caused the boy she once loved, for all the people that died because of the organization whose forces he had strengthened, for all those that perished long before they could start their lives in a war that he contributed to starting.

But perhaps she'd one day be able to befriend him and at least forgive him for the things that had happened in another universe.

It wasn't really a conscious decision, but Sakura chose to treat Itachi the same as she treated everyone else. No need for special treatment—both positive and negative.

That went for Shisui, too, although his situation was much different. 

It turned out to be easier than thought to separate two mental images from each other and act as if they didn't belong to the same individual; one of a name that had the deaths of hundreds attached to it, and one of a young face that shouldn't bear the marks of war yet.

And, for now, she'd settled on doing the same for her future teammate.

Sasuke meant a lot to her. He had torn their team apart, had never apologized for all that had happened, had never once truly acknowledged that he had hurt her with his words when they were twelve. At the same time, he was just as much a part of Team 7 as she and Naruto, having been plagued by nightmares for years in a lonely home, suffering in silence, and had still come back to them when they hadn't done much to understand his position and could never feel what he felt.

Sasuke meant a lot to her. However, she wasn't sure how she felt about him—or if she felt something for him at all. And now, in front of her was a young Sasuke, a still-innocent version of the broken man that now only existed in her worst memories. And even before seeing him the first time last week, she had been sure of one thing.

The Sasuke she knew and the one here were practically two different people. And Sakura would ensure that that would still hold true in one year, in five years, and when they were twenty-four again.

Sakura glanced to her left. Sasuke's sheet of paper was littered with holes—most were in the center. He didn't even look particularly challenged as he lifted his arm to throw another Kunai, while she could quite literally see the wave of exhaustion charging towards her.

Was she really losing to a five-year-old?

"Stop admiring Sasuke-kun and go back to training, Sakura-chan!" Yelled Shisui. Damn his sharp eyes.

Sasuke turned to stare at her. "Admiring...?" He looked mortified, as if the thought of Sakura having a crush on him disgusted him that much.

Sakura said in a dry tone, "No need to get all shy, Sasuke-chan. I won't throw myself at you."

"Y- You!" He shouted, looking every bit like a kid who was just told that Santa wasn't real, cheeks bright red, finger pointed at her and all. After stammering incoherent words for a while, he eventually settled on the lesser of the two evils. "Don't say 'chan'!"

Sakura raised an eyebrow. "Why not? You're my age, and people say 'chan' to me all the time."

"That's different! You're a girl."

"So what? It's not limited to girls. 'Chan' can be used for young children, as well as for girls. And you're basically half a girl with your pretty face."

"Hey! I'm not a girl! And I'm not a kid either! Shut up!"

Sakura snickered. "Oh yeah, Sasuke-chan?" The first time had been a mistake on her part—a part of her forgetting that she was, indeed, a child now too—but now she said it mostly for the sake of seeing the young version of her aloof teammate sputtering and stumbling over words.

Oh, come on. She didn't say something nearly as outrageous as he was making it out to be.

After that, Sasuke didn't seem to find anything to counter her words. Perhaps that had been amplified by Shisui laughing increasingly more loudly next to them. Whether it was for the sake of not embarrassing himself even more or not losing his composure, he ended up going back to his training.

Sakura quietly cackled at seeing his flushed face. Who knew that making fun of an Uchiha could be this funny? She felt like she understood Naruto a bit now.

As Sakura went to retrieve the Kunai stuck in her tree, she wondered once again, Why was Sasuke even here? Why were they practicing aim instead of other, more relevant things?

And it wasn't like she hadn't asked Shisui this already.

[earlier that day]

"So, basically, you took on babysitting duty?" Sakura asked, arms crossed.

"You're technically a 'baby' too. And you  know it's not just that." Shisui replied in turn, exasperated.

"But that's the essence of it. Sasuke always gets rejected by his brother and his father when he asks to train, and it's so sad to see that you took him with you."

"When you say it like that, it sounds stupid. I promise, it really does look sad." He pointed an accusing finger at her. "I bet you have never seen the face of a kicked puppy. But if you had seen Sasuke on those days, you would know what it is like."

Sakura shrugged. She had seen a kicked puppy once, actually. "Yeah, sure." Besides, the idea of that Sasuke looking all down because he got rejected was too weird to be true. Sasuke? A 'sad sight'? A 'puppy'? No way.

She waved the topic off. "Enough of that. Why are we doing Kunai practice? You told me we'd do other things after the basic physical training. Need I remind you that I only wore those stupid chakra weights because you promised to teach me the Shunshin afterwards?"

"I didn't forget. You see, Sakura-chan, everything we've been doing is working towards the end goal of learning the Shunshin."

"The Shunshin isn't the end goal, though. I won't stop at that."

"First milestone, then." He crossed  his  arms, assuming a teacher-like tone. "Ahem... Student Haruno, you have shown exceptional growth these past four weeks. Though you started at a point so low even I doubted the possibility of improvement—"

"Stop talking all fancily. And I know that my stamina was shit."

"Student Haruno, I expect utmost attention from all students while I am speaking. Lack of obedience calls for proper punishment, don't you think? Say, what do you think of running an errand for your dear teacher? Perhaps... while also contributing to muscle growth in your legs? Student Haruno, won't you fetch me the ankle weights?"

Sakura threw her head back and groaned. "Ugh! Shut up! I can't stand that way of speaking."

Shisui continued to look at her with an expectant and firm expression. She sighed.

"I apologize for interrupting... Can you please continue talking, Shisui-sensei?"

Said 'sensei' huffed as if deeply offended, acting like she couldn't see his victorious  smirk.

Sakura had the feeling that he only put up with training her to feed his own ego. At least that was what it began to sound like.

The Uchiha cleared his throat again. "Ah yes, of course I shall continue, Sakura-cha—I mean, Student Haruno. As you have shown  fast  improvement with physical training, we can start—can start with... we can start..." He trailed off. After a few moments of pause, he resumed speaking, though this time normally, without the teacher voice.

"Uh... we can start with the fighting stuff now. Yeah." He nodded along to his statement.

It was Sakura's turn to cross her arms now. "What? Giving up so soon, sensei? I didn't expect my mentor to be so lacking in his ability to articulate himself." She drawled.

Shisui flicked her forehead.

Ouch.

"Quiet, Student Haruno. Anyway, I was about to say that we can start with the actual martial arts later. I wouldn't want to force any particular fighting style on you when you don't have any perspective on what is possible and suited for you. In the Academy, they'll teach you the most basic form of close-combat  fighting . Once you get that down, you can figure  out  what to specialize in and if you want to take on a different form of  fighting .

"Now back to your question: you are practicing Kunai throwing because weaponry won't appear in the curriculum before the second year. Aim is a basic skill, and the coordination skills you practice through training can be applied to all kinds of things later."

Sakura nodded. In all honesty, this situation wasn't actually unfavorable to her. Being trained by someone like Shisui was already a huge bonus, and finishing up the 'main focus on stamina growth' part of her training this soon hadn't been planned either. Obviously, her fast improvement was also a result of some tweaking in her regeneration and artificial boosting with medical chakra, but he didn't need to know that.

"Sasuke is doing this with you because of what I mentioned earlier, but also since the two of you will join in the same generation of the Academy. Everything I said to you regarding martial arts applies to him as well. I asked Itachi back then, and he told me he'd practice aim with Sasuke. That's where I got the idea from, actually." He shrugged. "So technically, you are the tag-along to Sasuke's training."

Sakura frowned and kicked a pile of leaves towards Shisui.

"I want to become stronger." She started grimly. "When will you—?"

Shisui cut her off by putting a finger to her mouth to silence her. "When will I teach you the Shunshin, you ask?" He  grinned. "Ha ha. No need to be so impatient, Sakura-chan. It will all happen in due  time. Only when you let go of such ego-centric desires can I allow myself to teach you my famed technique."

Her frown deepened as she glared at him.

Shisui was unbothered. "...is the official explanation. Now, don't look at me like that. I would like to teach you right now too, you know? I really want to see the looks on people's faces when they see the successor to Shisui of the Body Flicker is a pink toddler."

"Not funny."

"But alas, I can't do so. I'd like to wait a bit more before doing anything chakra-wise with you. I'm worried for your chakra reserves, since they seem to be particularly shallow, even for your age and background. The Shunshin, especially when in repeat succession like my use of it, is taxing on the body and the chakra pool. And you're not going to faint from chakra exhaustion on my watch."

"Hah..." Sakura sighed. "I can't convince you, can I?"

"Nope." Shisui said, popping the 'p' sound as he did so.

Well, in summary, that meant she would have to wait some more. Just like with many, many other things.

Chapter Text

Sasuke showed up to their training the following week, too. And the week after that.

Whenever Shisui appeared with the grumpy boy in tow, whose face would scrunch up once he saw her, Sakura wondered why he even came along. It didn't look like he was enjoying himself.

Besides the times when Itachi was also there. Sakura had only met Sasuke four times in this lifetime, but it was quite clear how much of a motivational boost Itachi's presence gave the little Uchiha. Said older brother had accompanied Sasuke to their training spot once, and upon being faced with the combined effort of Shisui and Sasuke insisting on him staying for the training, the ten-year-old ended up standing next to his cousin and watching Sasuke and her train.

On that day, Sasuke seemed to be working harder than all other times Sakura had trained beside him. Moreover, he didn't even comment on her bickering with Shisui about the way she held her Kunai. Maybe he was getting used to Sakura arguing with someone he held respect for. That particular time, Sakura had tried a grip called 'pinch grip' without any prior mention to Shisui. Her (inofficial) mentor had been mad about that—apparently it was too dangerous to try anything involving knives without informing someone who can then supervise.

The pinch grip didn't really seem to work for her anyway. And she had figured that out by the time Shisui noticed her, which was great for her, but only seemed to agitate him more when she mentioned it.

"Hey."

Sakura glanced at Sasuke as she picked up a kunai lying on the forest floor. "I have a name, you know. Don't just 'hey' me."

"...Sakura." He looked compelled to add 'chan' to spite her but seemed to give up on the idea upon seeing her raised eyebrow and the 'don't you dare' look in her eyes. "Are you really gonna join the Academy?"

Her kunai shot through the air. It landed just a hand's width away from the middle.

Sakura sighed. On another day, she might have told Sasuke to not get involved in her business. If she was feeling like teasing him, she'd perhaps have asked him if he was that scared to be in a class with her. And on a particularly bad day, she may even have told him to fuck off.

But on that chilly day in late November—maybe it was because her deadline was approaching or becasue Shisui was away for an errand—she didn't feel like doing any of that.
So, she instead told him the truth. "I'd like to. But I can't."

Sasuke's hands stilled. "...what?" His eyes widened, processing her words. "But Shisui-san said..."

"He doesn't know."

Sasuke paused for a short moment before resuming with his practice, surprisingly unaffected. "So, you're saying he just assumed it?" He mocked, seemingly reaching some kind of conclusion, albeit not the right one. "Don't make jokes. Shisui-san isn't stupid, he wouldn't do that. Besides, I know Shisui-san is only training you because of the Academy. There's no reason he would do that otherwise."

"I lied to Shisui."

"Yeah, sure. Bet you wouldn't dare t—"

"No, really." Sakura wiped her hands on her pants. "Well, basically. I believed it at first, too. But now I have no reason to tell him the truth, do I? As you said, he's only helping me 'cuz of the Academy."

Now Sasuke was gaping. "But—but my brother told me that..." He stammered.

"I lied to him, too."

Thump. The leaves rustled as the kunai Sasuke had let go of hit the ground. He made no effort to pick it up, frozen in place after hearing some civilian girl his age openly confess to lying to not only the cousin he so respected but also the older brother he adored.

Sakura looked down. "Maybe you should pick that up before I do."

"...what...?" Sasuke slowly turned his head. Then they were both staring at the lone kunai between them.

"If you aren't going to use it, I will. You can go retrieve it from my tree afterwards." Sakura started to make her way to the fallen knife.

Sasuke's brain seemed to finally kick in again. "What? No, that's mine. Use your own!" He dashed towards the halfway point, where it had come to a stop earlier.

But Sakura was faster. The Kunai was already in her hands. "Oh, nice. The Uchiha emblem." She muttered absentmindedly as she glanced at the engraving on the hilt.

"That means it's mine. Give it back." Sasuke reached to grab her wrist but missed his aim by a whole kunai length and ended up just putting his hand over hers.

"So what?" Sakura tugged at the kunai. "It's not like I'll keep it; you're gonna get it back later."

"No." The young Uchiha said. In a show of his insistence, he pressed his other hand to the hilt from underneath, which completely hid the lower half of the object from sight. Sakura snorted. Now it looked like Sasuke was cupping Sakura's hand with both of his.

Not wanting to lose, Sakura also reached for the kunai with her other hand. After subtly coating her palm and fingers in a protective layer of chakra, she curled her fingers around the blade.

Sasuke gasped quietly. "You can't do that. It's dangerous."

"Then you should let go."

"No, you do."

Silence. Sakura cocked her head, waiting. Sasuke glared.

And looking at the scene as an outsider must be really strange, Sakura thought in that moment. There they were—two five-year-olds in the middle of a forest, at first glance seeming to be innocently holding hands, if it weren't for the gleaming blade sticking out between their hands. The two of them were exchanging challenging looks and waiting for the other to let go of the kunai that looked weirdly out of proportion next to their small hands.

And neither was willing to go down without a fight—because if there was one thing a five-year-old and a twenty-five-year-old could agree on, it was that retrieving Kunai from the tree was tedious as fuck.

Later, after Sasuke had gotten back his kunai (he didn't win, though, because she threw it into a pile of leaves just before he could tackle her, and he ended up walking a farther distance than if he had just gone along with her idea), they cycled back to their first topic.

"So, why did you lie?" Sasuke asked. A leaf was stuck to his hair from earlier, when he dug through the pile in search of his hard-'won' trophy.

"I said that to Shisui back then, 'cuz I assumed getting permission wouldn't be a problem." Sakura reached for a kunai on the ground. She really needed to get a leg pouch.

"Your parents don't allow it?" The Uchiha inquired. He looked confused, as if the idea of parents forbidding their children Academy entry was too foreign for him.

It was a ridiculous question, considering he was asking for clarification on something she had just explicitly told him. That was only one more difference to the Sasuke she had first met in her last life. He wouldn't have asked such an unnecessary question, because that would mean revealing how little he knew in actuality. And Sasuke back then had been someone who cared too much about hiding his weaknesses, showing only his strong, untouchable side.

Although that claim wouldn't hold true during the years they worked together in the war. It had been creepy, almost. The way Sasuke grew much more compliant and willing to agree to suggestions. It had made Sakura wonder if that had been all it took to bring her teammate back—one heart-to-heart conversation with his brother.

Sakura shook her head. That was all in the past.

"Yup." She tried not to let her ever-present frustration on the topic concerning the Academy show. There was no need for him to know about her personal problems.

"Why don't you join anyway?"

"You mean I should hide it?"

"You're hiding it from Shisui-san, so that means you aren't gonna give up on joining." Sasuke shrugged as he pulled a kunai out of his pouch. Sakura, kneeling down once again, felt envious of him. If only everything was as easily accessible to her as it was for him.

"It wouldn't work." She'd already gone through that possibility multiple times.

"Why not?"

"Why would it work? We are talking about seven whole years."

"Then graduate earlier." He said it easily. Like it didn't take a genius to graduate that early.

"...I can't even begin to list all the reasons why that wouldn't work."

And then the boy looked annoyed in that way he always did in this life—brows furrowed, big eyes set in a glare, mouth a tight line that made it seem like he was physically restraining himself from whining—because that would be too unsightly to come from a young lord of a noble clan.

He was standing before her with his short arms crossed, trying (and failing) to wear an expression of nonchalance.

"Tell me why it wouldn't work."

And here they were again. Sakura suppressed the urge to sigh—not in fear of angering the young Uchiha, but in dread of escalating things and potentially coming face-to-face with the sight of her ever pretentious teammate bursting into tears. He was definitely looking like he was close to it.

Sasuke's ideas were only logical to him alone. A young, naive boy like him didn't know what factors went into the decisions one could take. He didn't understand that this wasn't just a matter of trying to do whatever in the hopes of getting it to work.

Although it was surprising how easily Sasuke went along with the idea of lying to the adults. Hell, he even tried to help her scheme.

"There's no guarantee that I'll graduate fast enough that nobody notices."

"My Nīsan graduated after three years." Sasuke said, as if that counted as an argument.

"He sure did. And you know what the difference between your older brother and me is? He is a one-in-a-thousand prodigy, and I am not."

"How'd you know tha—" Sasuke cut himself off. Then an enlightened expression crossed his face as he said, "So, you are saying you are too weak to do it."

"I didn't say that, and there's, like, ten other reasons why I can't—"

"Just admit it. You're too embarrassed to admit that you can't do it. That's why you keep saying it won't work." He paused, "...Sakura-chan."

"Listen, Sasuke-chan," Sakura shot back. "I have plenty of reasons not to act out your flawed plan. One being that it's coming from an immature five-year-old who doesn't know anything about the world beyond the confines of his clan compound in which everyone reveres him."

She thought that would shut him up, but Sasuke, seeing she had said her part, simply continued on, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

"You think you are so great because you made fun of me? Well, at least I am from a clan. I could graduate early if I tried to. I have everyone in the clan to teach me. I'm only here now because it'd be rude to decline an offer from Shisui-san. Not that you would know anything about manners. I bet Shisui-san is only training you because he feels bad."

Smiling satisfactorily, he turned around and threw two kunai at once. Both hit bullseye.

Haah...
Sakura internally sighed.

Outwardly, she took a deep breath. I can't punch him, I can't punch him, I can't punch him. He is just a little brat, Sakura. No need to get angry over this. You always knew that he was an arrogant prick. You should've expected this.

Sakura didn't know what she would've done if Shisui hadn't come back in that moment. But, judging from the fact her efforts to calm down were hardly working, it wouldn't have ended well.

"I'm back, you guys!" Shisui announced, acting like he hadn't been calling out to them ever since they were within sight.

"What did you do while I was gone?"

Sakura's gaze still lingered on Sasuke, but slipped away at Shisui's call.

"Training, duh."

He really is like a whole other person. Sakura mused on the way home.

She could definitely see similarities in the personalities of the two versions of Sasuke Uchiha that she was trying to balance in her head. Both were strong-willed, easily provoked if their ego was hurt, slightly too arrogant, and sometimes too narrow-minded and unwilling to see things from another perspective. Sakura hadn't had a chance to interact with him much, but the similarities were there.

It was the small differences. Changes in their reactions to certain things.

While the young Sasuke was still willing to let weakness show in some moments, the older Sasuke would never allow himself to cry or show open sadness in front of others. Well, others that weren't part of Team 7.

In the later years, he was sometimes willing to be a bit vulnerable in front of Naruto and her (sometimes even Kakashi), though those moments were few and far between.

While the young Sasuke was too proud to fully show his anger in fear of embarrassing himself, the other Sasuke was too proud to apologize for outbursts that he wouldn't try to contain.

Her Sasuke—the one she had known for the longest time—didn't hold back when he was enraged. It didn't matter who exactly he'd lash out on. Whether it was his elders, his teacher, his Kage, or his teammates.

Her Sasuke knew that he was too valuable of an asset in the war to have anyone seriously retaliate against him, or much less take measures. Her Sasuke was already too broken to care about pride or embarrassment or the aftereffects of his behavior.

(Her Sasuke had never expected to live any longer than a few more years, because he knew what would await him after the end of the last battle.)

But the Sasuke here wasn't her Sasuke. This wasn't Sasuke, her teammate of ten years, the last Uchiha in the world. This was the Sasuke who had a loving family and a supporting clan, who loved his older brother to pieces. This was the Sasuke—the Sasuke-kun—she had once fallen for.

It was a strange thought—that a person could change this much. And that was almost comical, considering the twenty-four-year-old Sasuke she knew would've sneered at her belated realization. "What, you are only realizing that now? It's only obvious that people twenty years ago would be different," he would have perhaps said.

There was no way to find out now, though.

It wasn't intentional.

She hadn't been waiting for him to come home, nor had she purposely been awake at that time of the night. Usually, she would be fast asleep in her bed, because she understood the value of sleep at her body's age.

But strangely, that night she had been unable to find sleep. Maybe it was because of her conversation-turned-almost-fight earlier that day with Sasuke, or the way the thought of being unable to become a proper shinobi gnawed on her like a parasite latched onto her worries.

It had been mere coincidence that Sakura had decided to spread out her chakra as a means to fall asleep. Her reserves were shallow, so her sensing radius was barely enough to cover the area up to her backyard. Yet, it was enough for Sakura to be able to feel the life thriving in the environment. Something about sensing her mother's chakra signature—actual, physical proof that she was alive—and noticing all the little forms of life around her made her feel secure. She felt like she was truly a part of this reality—a reality that felt too good, too kind, to be true—as though she could somehow attach herself to this world by coating it in her chakra. The thought calmed her enough for her mind to slowly drift away, as hopes of an ideal world that would not know the horror of the Fourth War circled in her head.

And then it had happened.

Thump.

The sudden sound came from above her. Dull and quiet, but nevertheless picked up by her heightened senses. Sakura jolted awake, rattled by the sudden disturbance that hit her ears with tenfold the loudness it would have been under normal circumstances.

Something had landed on the roof. A person.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps. Nimble, light. They were concealing their chakra signature. A shinobi, then.

Encountering shinobi on one's rooftop wasn't as uncommon as it might sound. Maybe it was someone who had come back from a mission. In a Hidden Village like Konoha, many Shinobi preferred to travel over rooftops to reach other places.

But that was unlikely given the location of her house in relation to places like the Hokage Tower or the hospital. She knew that, so she wasn't too surprised when whoever was walking on their roof in the dead of the night was still there after thirty seconds, which would have been more than enough time to jump onto the neighboring rooftop.

The unknown person started walking towards the edge of the house. (But were they really a stranger? She knew this signature from somewhere, but who would...?) Then it was silent for a while.

Did they leave? But wait, this could also mean...

Sakura's suspicion was confirmed when the sound of a window being pushed open reached her ears. It echoed lightly in the dead-silent house.

Sakura suppressed her chakra and quietly left her room. She momentarily considered leaving a clone in her bed but deemed it a waste of chakra. Most ordinary thieves shouldn't be a match for her, in case this would lead to a fight. The aftereffects could be troublesome to deal with, but finishing off some shinobi that didn't even properly conceal their chakra signature or bother to suppress the sounds all their movement would make was definitely within Sakura's current capabilities.

The intruder had entered through the window next to hers. The room there was lived in by her brother. In her last life, it had been a spare bedroom for guests.

She silently crept through the hallway, holding a tight leash to her chakra, as to not reveal her presence. Upon reaching Yūta's room, she was relieved to find the door cracked open a few inches, allowing her to peek into the room from the shadows.

The person was currently standing in the shadow of a curtain. Judging by the not-too-big figure, the person was likely a woman (or a young ma—). She would wait for the person to be turned away and strike them from behind. That was the most effective and least dangerous approach since Sakura didn't want to bet her life on her assumption that the shinobi wasn't of too high caliber.

Not that someone that strong would break into—

The intruder turned around. Sakura froze, her breath caught in her throat. Her pulse hammered in her ears. Her hands may have been trembling. I'm not focusing; this is dangerous, she instinctively thought, but she couldn't bring herself to look away. Her chakra surged violently, a sharp spike of panic. For a heartbeat, she thought she might have been noticed. It was only through a fortunate coincidence that the person inside was distracted by a noise that same moment. The sound of porcelain hitting the floor shattered her state of shock.

A white mask clattered to the ground. Except it wasn't actually white, Sakura realized as a gloved hand reached for it and picked it up. Moonlight shined on the porcelain that was painted jet black. Pitch-black, like the feathers of the bird of death. The mask wasn't white. Even though it should be. She had expected to see white, because that was what all the masks were colored in. She had expected the white, because all other things pointed at that.

Sakura was frozen, unable to look away. She clenched her (now for sure shaking) fists.

The hand that now set the mask down on the table was coated in dried blood, all the way up to the elbow. In contrast, the other arm and the rest of the man's body were clean and seemed to be untouched by wounds or scratches. Even the braid that held his dusky rose hair was as flawless as it had been when he left home weeks ago, not a strand out of place. As if he had just put on those clothes and the mask. As if he wasn't actually a—

"Who's there?" And talking must've disrupted his control on his chakra, because suddenly she was overwhelmed by the pressure of a deadly tension. The killing intent coiled around her like a murderous aura, and Sakura was briefly unable to breathe before she shook herself out of it.

Fuck, I shouldn't be this easily caught off guard, Sakura thought and backed away from the door almost on instinct. Her now alert mind was expecting an attack at the realization that she had been caught.

She had to leave now.

Her feet moved to dash away from the room, hurrying to be far away from the sight that hadn't been meant for her eyes.

And she knew that she shouldn't have to run away or expect to be attacked, because there was no danger, but her body moved all on its own, her experience and war-worn instinct screaming at her that he was a threat.

Even after reaching and entering her room, Sakura didn't stop. She shoved her hand underneath her pillow and grabbed the kunai, finding a sense of relief as the cold metal cooled down her sweaty hand. Only after her heartbeat had started slowing down and her breathing steadied did her mind finally leave flight mode.

But even then, there was only one thought she could form, one realization that ran rampant in her mind.

Yūta is ANBU.

Chapter Text

Sakura didn't sleep that night.

Her mind was running wild, and it was almost like she couldn't form a single thought without her mind automatically jumping back to her newest revelation. She did end up lying in her bed, but that sight was seared into her retinas, appearing vividly in front of her whenever she closed her eyes and taking her right back to that scene that couldn't have lasted longer than a few moments.

Since neither attempting to think about something else nor closing her eyes helped to distract herself, Sakura eventually gave up on going to sleep.

She didn't know if the occasional rustling and shuffling were coming from the trees and wildlife outside or the room next door.

I must be imagining it, she tried to tell herself.

As soon as dawn broke, the first rays of sunlight creeping through the curtains, Sakura couldn't bring herself to stay still anymore. It was winter, so dawn was at around 9 a.m.—a reasonable time for a four-year-old to wake up. She had been tense the whole night, worrying that Yūta would know it had been her who sneaked around in the dead of the night. Had the other Sakura known about it? She couldn't have, right? Yūta only ever referred to himself as 'Shinobi'. Unless his change in position had been recent, it meant Yūta was hiding it from his sister.

Sakura dressed herself, washed her face, and tidied up her hair, combing through it before pinning back a part of the now shorter bangs. And then she was practically ready to leave her room.

Just—she was nowhere near ready mentally.

Sakura and Yūta always ate breakfast together when he wasn't on a mission. She'd have to interact with him. She had definitely had enough time to sort out her thoughts. It should have been enough time.

It could never be enough.

Yūta had been an anomaly from the beginning. But at least he had been somewhat predictable in his behavior. But she could have never predicted ANBU.

Was the side he had shown her even his real personality? Had he been playing with her the whole time? Did he know?

Sakura had spent a whole night deciding what to say and how to act (Should she pretend not to know? But what if Yuta had realized it was her? It would be too strange for a four-year-old to not confront her brother in that situation. But what would he do if he knew she knew? Silence her? He is ANBU. He could be ROOT. But he is her brother—) and yet she felt like she was underprepared.

But Yuta must have heard her use the bathroom. She would have to leave sooner or later.

Her hands sweaty and her body tense, Sakura walked down the stairs to the living room. She stopped just in front of the corner to the dining room. Yūta was usually already sitting and eating breakfast by the time she came down.

Sakura's ears were ringing. It was like white noise—drowning out all sounds but her own shaky breathing.

You have been through worse. Come on, you got this.

And she turned the corner.

The dining table came into view. No breakfast was lying on the table, waiting for her. The kitchen seemed to be untouched. Everything was dimly lit by the few rays of sunlight. The lights were out.

And, most importantly—Yūta wasn't there.

Sakura went to the living room, finding it in the same state as the dining room and the kitchen—it was all just as she had left it last evening. She walked up the stairs to the bedrooms. The second floor was void of people. Her mother had long gone to work, as she had heard at around 5 a.m.

And Yūta's room—it held no trace of a person being inside anywhere before a week ago.

Everything looked the way it was supposed to look. Yūta was away on his mission, and their mother was at work. Sakura was never supposed to know that it shouldn't be like this. She had never been supposed to see that.

Yūta was hiding his real identity from his own family.

It seemed she knew nothing at all about him, after all.

Sakura didn't end up having much time to rack her brains about Yūta's whereabouts. Mebuki came home in the late afternoon, as was usual for Saturdays. Sakura was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn't spare a single thought on her mother's strange work schedule. Eventually, even Mebuki noticed something was off.

"Sweetie? Why are you looking so grim?" She asked, her expression half teasing. "Don't tell me it is, because I forgot to buy your yogurt today. I already apologized for that, you know."

Sakura grinned, hoping that overexaggerating it would perhaps make it real. That's right; her mother was alive. She shouldn't be wasting thoughts on something she couldn't change. Surely Yūta will turn up soon.

"Then... buy me two yogurts next time!" She exclaimed.

Her mother chuckled, looking slightly troubled. "You already get enough yogurt, don't you? If you eat too much of it, you could turn into one yourself!" She jokingly threatened.

Sakura went along with it. "What?! Then I don't want it anymore!"

"No yogurt at all?"

"No!"

"Hm... what can I do to make you happy again, Sacchan?" She tapped her chin, smiling softly. "What about... Katsudon? Would you like that?"

She still seemed troubled. Sakura didn't know why, but it was still clear to her that her mother was forgoing whatever concerns she had to spend that time cooking her daughter's favorite food.

Sakura smiled, and this time, it was genuine. Yeah! Katsudon!"

And as much as she didn't want to admit it, sometimes she did enjoy acting like a clueless child and grinning widely over the smallest things. Sometimes, she did like being able to get annoyed and angry over trivial matters and have no one question it or accuse her of being "irritated too easily". Was she letting out her built-up anger on innocent people? Yes. But would they care about the words of a four-year-old? Probably not. She was already putting up with enough shit because of her age and time travel and the world ending in a few years and whatnot—so heaven damn her if she got a bit too angry or fell for a provocation one time.

Mebuki chuckled, turning to the stove to make the dish that she had obviously been preparing already. She was being considerate for her daughter, pretending to have been 'convinced' to make her favorite dish. It made Sakura realize in how many ways her mother's love would show—had shown. It made her realize how many things she had really lost after her parents' death.

She listened to the soft clack, clack, clack of her mother cutting up vegetables. The calming atmosphere combined with her having had a sleepless night quickly made her eyes grow heavy as she yawned. And then her head was lying on her arms that she didn't realize she had placed on the table. Next thing she knew, her eyes were closed, and the calming sound of water running in the sink was the only thing she could hear.

It shouldn't hurt to sleep a bit until—

The sound of keys jingling and the door being slid open reached her ears.

"I'm home!"

"Oh, welcome back, Yū-chan!"

"Kāsan! You're home this early? This is the warmest welcome I have received after a mission! Usually, you're still at work and Sacchan away at the libra..."

Silence. Then, in a much quieter tone, the conversation continued. "Should I be whispering? I was being too loud, wasn't I?"

"Hm... she seems to be in a deep sleep. But it doesn't hurt to be careful. Sakura looked like she had a lot on her mind, so..."

When Yūta had entered the room, Sakura had instinctively pretended to be asleep. Her fear of confronting the mystery that was Yūta had pushed away any thoughts of acting like nothing had happened. The setting had been too good not to give in to her wish to have more time to sort out her thoughts. Thoughts that she had already gone over a dozen times while reassuring herself that she was capable of handling an issue like this—she had worked enough times with situations that had a million unknown factors, so this should be a piece of cake.

Yūta's voice was so different now. Back in that hallway, it had sounded cold, dangerous, deadly. Now, talking to her—no, their mother, it was soft, his smile audible in his voice. Though, his next words carried a hint of seriousness with them.

"Kāsan, do you think Sakura is...?"

Is what?

Her mother was silent for a moment before answering in a tone that Sakura rarely heard from her. It was the tone she used whenever Sakura brought up her request on the Academy. "...no. I don't think she even remembers it. That time a few months ago, she even asked..."

Yūta's voice shifted to a much quieter level. So quiet that Sakura had to hold her breath just to hear what he said.

"But you told me she was having a nightmare that morning. What if...?"

"She didn't seem to be eager to talk about that when I asked, so I didn't press on the matter."

"That's what I'm trying to do, too. I'm just not mentioning—um... it."

Mebuki sighed. "Yūta, you know you don't always have to be so mature about everything, right? You're still young, so confide in me if everything ever gets too much. I know that day affected you just as much as it did Sakura."

"Thank you, but I can deal with it better than Sakura, I think. She's younger, she needs more help."

"Alright. But try not to burden yourself too much, okay? Okāsan will handle it. As for Sakura... We can't do much right now. You remember what we decided on, right?"

A chuckle. "I wouldn't dare to forget something you tell me, Kāsan."

"Right. How could I forget my son's perfect memory?"

And then the topic changed to lighthearted things, the tense tone in both her mother's and Yūta's voices gone with the wind.

Sakura was perplexed. What had that been about?

Before she could think about it further, she picked up on her mother's next words. She had apparently gone back to the kitchen, Yūta following along. He was probably helping her with something, like he would always do.

"Yū-kun, you were away for quite some time. I don't think you've ever been on such a long mission."

"Yeah, two weeks."

Yes, this was the stuff she wanted to hear. Not some cryptic conversation about her.

It was crystal clear what the next question would be. Sakura wanted to see his expression when he answered that. If he was going to lie, this was the only chance she'd have to see his genuine reaction. Any later, and he'd have prepared his story already.

Would he show confidence because he was already proficient in lying to his mother? Or would he let his fear show on his face for a split second, afraid of being caught? Would he exchange a knowing look with Mebuki—a silent agreement not to talk about his real mission in Sakura's presence? Would he look complacent, enjoying the fact he was knowingly deceiving his family?

But then again, if Mebuki knew about him being ANBU, Yūta would have little reason to lie. This could be the one opportunity to listen in on a conversation that wasn't meant for her ears. Sakura was at an age where people would grow careless around her, letting things slip that they wouldn't have ever said in front of someone older.

It was a tie. Sakura had no way to know if Yūta would lie. He was an enigma. She'd have to gamble.

A split second of thought, and then Sakura made her decision. With a bit of luck, she could choose both options at once.

Her head was conveniently turned to the kitchen. She could look at the two of them without causing any noise. She opened her eyes slowly.

Jackpot!

Both her mother and Yūta weren't looking, turned away from Sakura. Unfortunately, that also meant she couldn't see his expression.

If only he'd turn a bit to the side...

In another stroke of luck, Yūta's head turned towards Mebuki, just as the latter voiced her question. Sakura had the perfect view on his face. And now she just had to hope nobody would notice her being awake.

"What kind of mission were you away for?" Mebuki asked absentmindedly, reaching for the packaged pork.

Sakura observed closely as Yūta's expression changed. He smiled. "Oh, nothing much. Just an escort to the Land of the Sea." She watched intently, looking for any signs of nervousness, arrogance, anything, but she was met with—nothing...?

He was just—smiling. There was nothing other than that.

Yūta continued. "We were hired by a wealthy merchant, who apparently wants to invest in the nation. 'Potential for a great trading hub,' he said." Yūta smirked as he said those last words in a high-pitched, out-of-breath voice, mimicking the merchant. "It would have only taken a week, but a few days before he was set to depart, the merchant got intel that someone was out for his life. So, instead of traveling through the Land of Tea, we took the longer route across the ocean. Well, it was quite fitting for our destination, the Land of the Sea, and the breeze was quite relaxing. Just a bit cold, though."

Mebuki poked at his shoulder. "That's why I told you to wear warmer clothes. I knew that vest wasn't keeping you warm enough for winter."

"I couldn't have known that the mission would take us to the sea!" Yūta protested. "Oh, by the way." He reached inside his pocket, pulling out an envelope. "I got this from the merchant! He said I did a good job keeping him entertained on the ship, so he gave me a bit of a tip." He waved his paycheck around. "You can buy some flowers for the vases from this money, Kāsan."

Mebuki looked guilty, her smile fading just the slightest bit. "Dear, you don't have to give me this money. It's your tip that you earned yourself."

Yūta laughed. "I don't have much use for money anyway. What could an eleven-year-old possibly want? And... I know you need this money more than I do. Just see it as a sign of appreciation from your dear son." He held the envelope out towards her, his hand steady and unwavering.

Mebuki sighed defeatedly, eventually accepting the offer. "What did I do to deserve such a kind son?"

Just in that moment, Yūta's head started to turn towards the table, and Sakura knew she would be seen now.

"Nīchan...?" She mumbled sluggishly, rubbing at her eyes, as she pretended to wake up.

"Ah, Blossom, you're awake! Your favorite Nīchan is back!" He came to sit next to her and ruffled through her hair.

"Hey!" Sakura said, slapping his hand away and smoothing down her hair.

Getting a closer look at Yūta now, the first thing she noticed was the lack of any wounds or scratches on his body. He could have gone to a medic, but Sakura couldn't sense any residual chakra on him. Only highly skilled Iryōnin like her were able to completely remove all traces of themselves after a treatment session.

Yūta wasn't showing any signs of injury. He was moving his arm just as usual, with no hesitation as he flailed it around dramatically to show her the movement of the waves he saw.

For a brief moment, the image of his blood-coated arm flashed before her inner eyes. The lack of wounds now... Sakura could only shudder at the implications of those two 'contradictions'—the implication that Yūta could be much more dangerous than she had thought.

Concluding she wasn't going to get any more information about Yūta's mission (other than vivid replications of the waves at sea), she let Inner take over for the rest of the conversation.

Acting like a child came a lot more naturally to her now, but it was still troublesome to constantly remind herself that she couldn't use certain words.

It was definitely helping that Sakura was making her visits to the library clear. Under the guise of 'reading lots of books', she was able to articulate herself more maturely than in the beginning stages of her plan.

In the end, it still felt the best to let Inner talk in these situations. (It made her feel less guilty for stealing this body and locking Inner away in her mind.)

Chapter Text

"And that's why I don't like Kuro-chan." Inner concluded, finishing her story with the same statement that had started it in the first place.

"I see." Sakura agreed. "But he didn't know it was wrong, did he? An-san even apologized for him."

"Still!" The girl humphed, crossing her arms. She looks cute, Sakura thought, and then immediately wondered if she also looked like that when she crossed her arms.

"Everyone makes mistakes. And he didn't do it after that time, right? Maybe you should forgive Kuro-chan."

"But he bit me! It really hurt, y'know?" Inner pouted.

Well, they must at least look similar, right? They were the same person, after all. But Sakura didn't pout.

Probably. She hoped so.

"Kuro-chan was really small back then. Maybe he wanted to say hello but accidentally bit you instead."

Did she pout?

"But Kuro-chan's a dog! Dogs 're supposed to put their paws on you an' look cute an—they don't bite you!"

Sakura hummed thoughtfully, twirling her hair. When had it gotten this long? "Well, I saw Kuro-chan the other day, and he was very nice to me. No biting. That means he changed after that."

"I don't believe you!"

"Why not, Sakura-chan? Hm?" Sakura teased with a smile, growing more confident at Inner's eagerness to respond.

"Maybe you are lying and Kuro-chan didn't change 't all!"

"When would you believe me, then?"

Inner quieted, pondering for a while. "I dunno... if I see it?"

Oh.

"See... it? Yeah, I guess—" Sakura cleared her throat. "Yeah, that would do the job, wouldn't it? If you see it for yourself..." Her voice was barely a whisper towards the end.

"But anyway!" Sakura sat upright, startling Inner in her suddenness. "What did you say earlier about that ice cream shop?"

"Oh right!" Inner brightened. Literally. Her dress lit up.

Sakura internally let out a sigh of relief. There was no need to unnecessarily sadden her with the topic of 'outside' again.

She nodded along to Inner's excited words, ignoring the thoughts that were sure to plague her for the coming nights. She didn't think about how the word 'unnecessarily' echoed in her mind, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Sakura blinked back into the outside world with a gasp and a shiver running down her back.

The first moments always felt a bit strange—having to pick up the notion of breathing again and being confronted with all the uncomfortable sensations she conveniently shut out during her visits to her mindscape, like the ache in her muscles from daily training and the numbness of her wrist where the beginnings of her Byakugō seal were manifesting. It felt unnatural, almost, to be back in a body too young to match her mental age. To remind herself that this was her real body, not the one she took on whenever she visited Inner.

This was the fifth time she had talked face-to-face with her Inner Child. After the first incident three weeks ago, she had taken to visiting her 'lower consciousness,' as the book had soulfully dubbed it, from time to time. Though, it was always a hassle to find the opening since it apparently moved each time.

Once she entered the world made of gel floor, it didn't take too long to find Inner in some region. It was quite eerie, honestly. How Sakura would aimlessly traverse the vast plains, yet always manage to find the small figure of the pink-haired girl at the end of her walk.

Their interactions were structured the same way as their first one. Sakura would try to coax some words out of the intimidated girl and do her best impression of a harmless older sister, and eventually, Inner would warm up to her and take the lead in their conversations.

Then, after some amount of time that Sakura always failed to keep track of, something she said triggered the carefully overcome fear within Inner, causing her to back off with speed not even the Raikage could match.

It was mostly mentions of outside. Other times it was a random sentence—at least, it seemed random to Sakura, but who knew what Inner associated with "My friend's birthday was in October, but I couldn't congratulate him, sadly"?

Today, Sakura had managed to distract Inner enough to change the subject. And their conversation carried on for some time after that, although they stuck to mundane topics—which was what Sakura intended to do for future meetings too.

It was a painful yet pleasant activity. She would be guilt-stricken, seeing the very proof of her mistakes—the child trapped in the construct that was their mindscape because of Sakura's selfish wish to do better this time. And yet it was freeing to be in her own, adult body again, even if it only existed in a fake reality, where no one could see it.

Sakura didn't know how long she'd continue this for.

She had nothing to gain from talking to Inner. And yet, she felt like keeping her company was the only thing she could do right now to repay the debt she owed to her—a child too young to be trapped in solitude.

Or maybe she was just doing this to alleviate some of the guilt she carried around every day. That was the kind of selfish person Sakura was.

During her few meetings with her, Sakura noticed some things.

One; Inner refrained from meeting her eyes. This wasn't much of a problem since it was easily solved by Sakura either turning around or staring holes into the jelly for the entirety of their conversations. And frankly, it wasn't surprising. There were no mirrors in her lower mindscape, but Sakura assumed her appearance likely reflected the way she looked around the time of her death in her past life.

Ino had explained it to her once. That one's appearance inside their mindscape was a direct reflection of their soul. Or—in other words—how they perceived themselves. Sakura was a simple person in such matters. She wasn't the person she was before the war anymore. Neither did she feel like her Genin-self, nor fresh-out-of-school Sakura.

So her appearance in her mindscape reflected exactly the last time she had looked into a mirror. Part of the reason for that was her nearly perfect memory. Another was the fact she had long given up on hiding her true self from the outside world. When people looked at Haruno Sakura at twenty-four, they saw her for who she was. She didn't know if that was good or not.

But what she knew for sure was that her current self scared Inner for whatever reason—the why wasn't important, because Sakra could name at least three things about herself that made her look unfriendly, if not downright intimidating, to young children. She had tried making herself seem less terrifying in all but appearance by speaking in a higher-pitched voice and smiling more, but Inner still avoided eye contact most of the time. And that was fine.

Another thing she noticed;

Inner never talked about recent events.

She didn't specifically avoid it or anything. Rather, Inner simply didn't mention anything prior to March of that year. She knew that because the girl had once claimed to be 'three years old'. Inner had been four at the time Sakura took her body over.

That had been their second meeting. At the time, Sakura brushed it off as a typical case of a preschool child messing up things involving numbers.

The following week, their talk was cut short by Sakura mentioning her attempt to catch her blonde friend on his birthday. But prior to that, Sakura had paid special attention to the topics Inner chose when filling their conversation. That had been the moment she picked up on Inner completely ignoring any events from that year.

Inner doesn't talk about things that happened this very same year, was her silent realization.

Later, Sakura would spend half a night thinking about their past conversations. She felt like she had the puzzle pieces yet couldn't manage to put them together in any way that made sense.

Her fourth meeting with Inner made the pieces click, then.

At one point, Sakura had told the story from her outing to the library and meeting a strange man who could read the time just by looking at the sky. Eventually, the subject had moved to Inner talking about her most recent visit to the park, lamenting the fact that the snow had melted.

"Okāsan said, nex' time we're here, the park could be all green again."

"Oh, really? You don't think it could snow again? Winter isn't over yet."

"Nuh-uh! Winter's gone 'lready! 'ts springg!"

"But it's December, isn't it?"

And then, all of a sudden, the girl had gone quiet. Sakura failed to cheer her up afterwards, no matter how many times she emphasized that Winter would come again and there'd be much snow to see that time.

That was how that visit had ended.

Inner had said it was spring. Did she think it was January? But they were in the middle of December. Winter had yet to end.

It was almost like—

Inner didn't know about anything that happened this year.

Sakura had awakened here in the beginning of October. That was ten months, if not more, of Inner's memory being gone even though she had been in control during that time.

Sakura didn't know what to do with that realization—what that information meant for her and Inner and the mysterious affair that was her time travel.

The sun was beginning to set as Sakura strolled through the village center. Well, she wasn't really 'strolling', as she had a clear destination.

"Good evening!" She greeted as she walked underneath white curtains. Curtains that Sakura had always had to duck under last time around.

'Ramen Ichiraku' the red paint spread across the five sheets of fabric read. A tall, broad man behind the counter greeted her with a familiar, kind smile.

"Ah, Sakura! Back so soon?"

She nodded. "I just got my pocket money, so I had to come here. Oh, right! Uhm..." Sakura paused, thinking for a short moment. "One bowl of kitsune udon, please, Teuchi-san."

"Alrighty!" Teuchi gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. With a booming voice he shouted Sakura's order over to his daughter Ayame, who was standing just a few feet away from him. "One bowl of kitsune udon for table number five! I repeat, one bowl of—!"

"I can hear you just clearly, Tōsan." The young woman deadpanned, sighing exasperatedly. It seemed she had been hearing that a lot.

Nevertheless, Sakura saw Ayame begin to prepare her food. Well, that was what she deduced from what little she could see from her low viewpoint.

Damn her short body.

"Why are you doing this again?" Ayame asked.

"Oh come on, Ayame! You should remember what your old man says! Y'know, I remember everything—"

"Yeah, yeah." Ayame replied in an annoyed tone, though she was smiling.

"Well, you know," he turned to Sakura. "That's what they say at the restaurants. I thought maybe we could attract more customers if we give off a bit of a prestigious vibe, don'tcha think?"

"Doesn't that clash with the rest of your business style?" Sakura interjected. "I thought you were going for homely vibes."

"A hundred points for you, Sakura!" Teuchi gave her another thumbs-up. "That's why..." He turned to point his index fingers at Ayame.

Said woman sighed but replied in a good-natured tone, "...we're only doing it on Thursdays. And Tōsan, you know they don't say 'I repeat', right?"

"They don't?" Teuchi gasped. "Ayame-chan! How could ye let me do that for all this time? What about our business?! We have a reputation to uphold as the best ramen bar in Konoha!"

Ayame chuckled, looking over to Sakura. "Your udon is on its way, Sakura."

Sakura smiled at her as she continued to watch the two converse.

She had become kind of a regular at Ichiraku by now, frequenting the place once every week or so. The food here was great for a relatively low price, and she was always greeted by a friendly atmosphere.

And, most of all, Teuchi and Ayame weren't pushy about her circumstances. After seeing Sakura react more reserved towards questions like the reason she never came with company or why she sometimes had bruises (both from training alone and with Shisui), they stopped asking about such things. It was relieving to, for once, not have to explain what a four-year-old was doing alone in the middle of Konoha just before sunset.

But there was another reason she went to Ichiraku specifically.

Because although a lot had been going on, there was one thing that was always present in the back of her mind—one person whom she owed too much to, whom she had once mistreated and, eventually, given up her life for.

Her teammate, her best friend, one of her other thirds, her brother—

"By the way, did Naruto come around lately?"

Teuchi shook his head disappointedly. "You missed him by a day."

"Oh! That's okay! I'm here for the ramen anyway!" Sakura grinned, a wide, toothy smile that she was practicing for the big moment—her first encounter with him.

"Aha! That's great to hear. I hope you talk just as enthusiastically about our place outside, too." Sensing Ayame giving him a look, he turned around. "What? We've got to keep the business going somehow!"

Ayame rolled her eyes with a smirk. "I don't think that's going to work. You can't have a toddler advertising for us." 

Teuchi laughed. "It's not advertising. Call it—...creative promoting."

"I don't mind telling people that the food here is great, Akane-san." Sakura said.

"See!" Teuchi said. He then proceeded to set down a steaming hot bowl of udon before her. "Here's your Kitsune Udon. Fresh from the kitchen!" As he pulled his hands back behind the counter, he patted Sakura's hair. "Also, great job promoting our place. Keep it up, kiddo!"

Sakura gave him a thumbs-up. "Will do, Teuchi-san!"

"I still don't understand, Sakura." Teuchi began. Sakura gratefully acknowledged hearing her name without the company of a suffix. He and his daughter had been some of the only people to immediately accept her wish not to have 'chan' added to her name.

"Hm?" Sakura hummed, glancing up from her bowl of Kitsune Udon.

"Why don't ye' just approach Naruto if you're so eager to meet him? Too shy? I can put in a good word for you with him. He's such a nice kid and so eager to make friends—I'm sure you'd get along."

Sakura tried not to freeze at his words. His casual question caught her by more surprise than she'd like to admit.

She took her time chewing on the noodles in her mouth, carefully thinking about what to say next. Once she really had nothing left to do to prolong answering, Sakura opened her mouth.

"You're right. I'm sure he'd be friends with me if I asked him, but... Wouldn't I seem weird if I was just... lurking around him?" Sakura smiled awkwardly. "I'm not even sure if he knows me..." 

"Oh, Sakura," Teuchi sighed, as he continued in a reprimanding tone. "You really should act more like the kid you are. You don't need to worry about those kinds of things, y'know? Kids are supposed to be overly friendly with strangers and prone to oversharing, not too insecure about seeming weird 'cuz they want to make friends."

"And I'm sure Naruto won't think you're weird. I mean, you are so adorable!" Ayame chirped.

Sakura avoided grimacing at the adjective in favor of smiling with feigned shyness. "Thanks."

"That reminds me..." Teuchi started. 

Oh no, Sakura thought. Please don't ask more questions that I don't have answers prepared for.

"How do you know him anyway? I don't recall you ever meeting here at our ramen bar." 

Damn it. 

"I... met him at the park once." Sakura said, quickly coming up with a lie. "We played... a bit." She internally cursed at her inability to come up with any children games she and Naruto could have played during her imaginary meeting. "He was very fun to talk to, but that was some time ago. He told me about this place, so I thought I could meet him again if I came here often enough."

"I see." Teuchi looked thoughtful. Sakura waited with bated breath as she desperately hoped for her not very foolproof story to be accepted.

Then, the ramen bar owner's mouth curled into a smile. "Well, I'm definitely rooting for you. Like you said, as long as you keep coming 'ere, you're bound to come across Naruto. He's one of our regulars after all." He winked at her. "And if you ever need some help, I can try to set up a meeting." 

"Discreetly." Ayame added after seeing Sakura's doubtful expression. 

Teuchi nodded. "Yes. Discreetly. He'll take it for a simple coincidence. You can count on me."

Sakura smiled. 

The Ichiraku Ramen bar never failed to lift her mood. Teuchi's jokes and his booming voice reminded her of distant memories of her father and laughs shared over a warm dinner. Ayame's attitude towards her father's demeanor reminded Sakura of herself once upon a time. 

It almost made her feel envious.

Yet, just looking at it from outside and being given the chance to laugh with them and bask in the warm atmosphere was more than enough to drown out the dull pain of grief. 

This was what Konoha had been like, Sakura thought then. It had been memories of this that had kept her going for seven years. This was what home felt like. 

Yes, this was what she was fighting for.

—

As she walked home later, Sakura thought about the conversation she'd had earlier. 

She had somehow managed to sell her cover story to Teuchi and Ayame. It was by no means perfect, though, and Sakura regretted not having thought about that question coming up at some point. Ichiraku had a way to completely disperse the tension in her mind and body. Sakura was always so at ease when she ate there. 

Wanting to meet Naruto—who was her teammate of 12 years, who was like a brother to her—it had seemed so natural to her. Never once had it crossed her mind that someone would dare to question the reason behind her love for him. Only after the question had left Teuchi's mouth did Sakura realize how obvious it was.

She wasn't back there anymore. This was the past.

Naruto should mean nothing to her. He should be a stranger. They didn't know each other. He didn't know her.

And perhaps that was the real reason why she didn't simply seek him out. The reason why she did it like this, sneakily hoping to catch a glimpse of him by frequenting Ichiraku. 

Sakura didn't know how to approach Naruto. They were too different, especially now that she was more than 20 years older than him mentally. Sakura knew she didn't act her age, nor particuarily friendly. And she didn't care what most people thought about that as long as it wouldn't blow her cover. 

But for Naruto, she wanted to seem friendly. Kind. She wanted to be for him what he had been for her in their first life. The life he didn't remember. She wanted him to smile at the thought of her, wanted him to gain hope when he heard her words. She wanted to be a pillar of support for him.

But what if she scared him off with her harsh personality? What if five-year-old Naruto wasn't the confident, unrelenting boy he would be at twelve? Sakura knew what Naruto had gone through in his childhood—what he was going through right now. What if Sakura failed to gain his trust?

At least, back in her first life, they had shared a similarly bubbly personality. That part of her, though, had receded during the war. And while she could play the part—act cheery and full of naivete—it didn't feel right to do that with Naruto.

It felt fake. 

Sakura had promised herself, once, that she would treat him better this time. That she would be true to herself and not act according to the sly remarks adults would make about him. That she would treat him the way he deserved to be treated. 

Back then, it had been Naruto's insistence that had eventually sparked the beginning of a real friendship. Yet, this time, Sakura couldn't even be sure if she would end up in a team with him again—if she could attend the Academy at all. She didn't have the freedom to wait around and hope Naruto would decide to approach her first. She couldn't expect herself to be so lucky again. 

Even her attempts to find him were rather pathetic.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, Sakura didn't know where Naruto lived. By the time she had visited Naruto's home in her past life, he had moved away already. She only knew that he lived in a poor area. While she could ask people who knew, like Kakashi or the Hokage, she didn't know how her excuse would sound to them. If they perceived her intention as malicious, Sakura would have to completely give up on meeting Naruto. 

Although that didn't really matter since Sakura had decided to stay away from people that held much power. 

So, here she was—pitifully coming to Ichiraku once a week in hopes of meeting someone she had once been so close to that she didn't know how to approach him now.

Chapter Text

Before Sakura knew it, a week had passed. Time was passing. Quickly. And she was getting anxious. 

Because she felt like she was not doing anything. Not achieving anything. Not changing anything. 

And yet, her schedule was packed full. Every day, she’d go through the steps of her routine. 

Wake up in the morning. 

Eat breakfast with Yūta. Try to gather information concerning their family circumstances and his ANBU identity (to no avail). 

Leave the house under the pretense of “going to the library.” 

Train in the forest. 

Eat lunch even if she wasn’t hungry (growth).

Actually go to the library and search for anything of use for her chakra pathway problem and the chakra-pool-not-growing problem. 

Go home and tediously untangle paper-thin chakra pathways at a painfully slow speed. 

Eat dinner. 

Meditate. 

Go to sleep.

Her schedule left little time in between. Depending on her plans for the day, she would sometimes skip dinner or lunch. But never the important things. Never the training. She was doing as much as she could. 

But was she really? A sinister voice whispered in her mind. 

Was she really doing everything in her power to work towards her goal? Was she truly doing everything she could? Sakura didn’t know. 

Or maybe she didn’t want to admit that she could do more. Could work harder. Sakura had seen herself during the war. She knew that she wasn’t as productive as she could be right now. After experiencing seven years of war, Sakura knew that ‘giving her best’ wasn’t ‘giving everything.’ If she wasn’t fighting tooth and nail for something, she wasn’t using her full potential. 

But Sakura enjoyed talking to her mother in the evenings. She didn’t mind cutting her library research time short in favor of childish, trivial conversations that still meant the world to her.

She enjoyed basking in the warm afternoon sun of an otherwise cold winter day in Konoha. She enjoyed listening to the soothing hum of nature as she entered the forest for training. And what did it matter if her steps slowed down slightly?

She had plenty of time, after all. 

Except she didn’t. Not when the Academy term started in nearly four months. Not when she should have applied for entrance by now. Not when her mother was nowhere near convinced. 

She had left her training session last Friday with a goal in mind: to figure out a plan. Sasuke had been partially right after all. She couldn’t continue to hide her problem from Shisui. Shisui, who had been convinced to train her after hearing her ‘worries’ about the Academy. Shisui, who could drop their little teacher-apprentice act whenever he wanted. 

So Friday evening, Sakura decided to do something in order to solve her problem. 

Friday night, she found out Yūta was ANBU. Yūta, who she had reluctantly come to accept as a brother. Yūta, who she had believed to be a harmless, if only slightly troublesome, change to her everyday life. Yūta, who had turned out to be an even bigger anomaly than she had imagined. Yūta, who Sakura had no clue how to act around.

Saturday, Sakura decided to figure out how to deal with the stranger she called family.

She fell into her routine, went through the steps each day, and worked in her spare time. She talked to Inner and visited Ichiraku. 

And suddenly, it was Friday again, and Sakura had achieved nothing. 

It felt like she was stuck in a never-ending loop. Never achieving anything. Never changing anything. And time was still moving forward.

Sakura decided to leave for training a bit earlier than usual in hopes of seeing Naruto on the way there. Going to Ichiraku had pushed her blonde best friend to the forefront of her mind again. (She tried not to think about her other blonde best friend. The one she could easily meet, yet chose not to. She tried not to think of pale blue eyes and a dazzling smile.) It was always like that. Thinking of Naruto for too long caused a chain reaction inside her mind. It catapulted her back to their genin days, had her reliving the memories in front of her inner eyes whenever she didn’t pay enough attention. 

It made her lose focus. One moment she would be immersed in a historical text—and oh, they mention the Nine-Tails in this part—and the next moment, she was strolling through the streets of Konoha on a beautiful afternoon, and when she looked to her side, her sight was filled with ocean blue eyes, sun-kissed skin, and a bright smile so full of radiance that it almost blinded her. 

So Sakura tried not to think too much of him—and if she did, only in passing, a fleeting thought.

War was strange like that. The more people she lost, the more important her remaining loved ones became. Because, when she lost a source of warmth, the next bit of comfort felt infinitely warmer—if only because it offered a reprieve from the bitter cold.

Sometimes, she would indulge herself. Let herself be convinced of taking a longer route around Konoha. She’d allow herself to give in to the urge to look after every blonde person she passed. And sometimes, she would let herself imagine what it would be like to bump into him on the street. What would she do then? Hold onto him so as to not lose him in the sea of people? Make small talk? Ask if he heard of her from Teuchi? 

Yes, that will work. Naruto loved talking about ramen. And from then on, she could steer the conversation towards arranging another meeting. When do you plan to eat at Ichiraku next? We could eat together—that’s more fun anyway, right? Or maybe she would have to do some convincing. And then—

Surely that would take some time.

So, Sakura left earlier for training. Perhaps one day, she would be lucky and catch a glimpse of the person that was her brother in all but name.

“My older brother is a shinobi.” Sakura said. And then immediately regretted it. 

She didn’t remember how they had gotten to that point in their conversation. Didn’t know what had driven her to say that just now. 

When she had gotten to their spot in the forest, Sakura noticed that she was far earlier than usual. Thinking of a potential meeting with Naruto must have made her giddy, speeding up her pace. In the end, she was way too early for their weekly training session. 

After that first week with Shisui, where he had successfully managed to trick her into asking, ‘How are you on time?’, the two of them had agreed on a specific time. Every Friday, two o’clock.

Her internal clock told her it was around 1:40. Shisui was probably not there yet, Sakura thought as the small clearing came into sight. 

She hadn’t expected the figure of Sasuke already lounging on top of a tree stump.

“Are you always this early?” She blurted out, unable to stop herself fast enough. 

Sasuke turned his head to her, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “...yeah.” 

“I thought you came here with Shisui.” Sakura strolled to his side, leaning on one of the trees. She was usually the last to arrive, so she figured Sasuke and Shisui would come together—same clan and all.

“Sometimes. Shisui-san is on missions most of the time, though.” 

“Does he come here after finishing his mission?” 

“What else?” Sasuke asked. At her silence, his smirk widened. It had become a little game between the two of them: trying to have the last word. The need to win an argument was the one similarity they had.

Sakura, however, was thinking of something completely different, and she had no intention of ending the conversation just yet.

“So…he times his missions in order to come here every Friday?” She said out loud. 

Sasuke frowned. “Why would he do that? I think he’s just…” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, wrapping it up fast? He’s strong.” 

“Some missions take longer.” Sakura reasoned. “Even Shisui can’t finish a mission three days earlier than planned. He’d have to plan ahead with his departure in order to be back on Friday.” 

“He could just skip a training session.” 

“Has he ever done that before?” 

Sasuke’s eyes widened as he shook his head. The realization seemed to dawn upon him at that moment.

“...You’re right…” His brows furrowed after he said those words. 

“What? Can’t handle me being right for once?” She contemplated adding ‘Sasuke-chan’, but left it at that. This conversation was rather peaceful, and she didn’t want to ruin it by provoking him.

And, honestly, Sakura was still surprised as well. She knew that Shisui would be making time for her. She had thought of that in the beginning, before their very first session. It was part of the reason why she had been surprised to see him right on time.

But Sakura had never considered just how extensively his schedule would be affected by a promise of weekly training. It had been clear all along. Of course someone as strong as Shisui would be sent on many missions. And of course those missions would sometimes overlap with Friday at two o’clock. It was the middle of the day—the busiest time for shinobi. 

And yet, Shisui had never once canceled on her or Sasuke. 

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

Was it part of his plan? What did he have to gain from making sure to never skip a weekly meeting with her, a civilian girl with neither standing nor power? Why did he do this in the first place? Why—?

Sakura stopped herself from going down that line of thought again. She had done this a million times before. Asking herself what could possibly be Shisui’s motives. What could drive one of the strongest of a founding clan to offer training to a civilian child who had yet to enter the Academy. What he could stand to gain from continuing this on for ten whole weeks. Why he seemed to have no qualms about perhaps continuing this indefinitely. 

She was overthinking again.

In order to pass the time, Sakura talked to Sasuke. They would still have to wait some more time before the older boy would show up. 

Just like he would always do on Friday at two o’clock. 

They talked about meaningless things. Sakura asked him if he had seen the construction site south of the forest, wondering what might be built there. She joked about what they would do if, one week, their training spot turned into a construction site. He brought up the fact they would have to mark up the trees all over again. (At one point in their training, Shisui had told them to just carve out the target design onto the bark of the trees, instead of nailing a new piece of paper to it every dozen minutes.)

They talked about the Inuzuka clan's dogs, wondering if they could chew out the target design if they had sharp enough teeth. The conversation then veered to pets. 

“Do you have one?”

“I don’t. But if I had to choose, probably a cat.” 

“Fish, maybe? They are easy to care for.” 

“Fish?” 

“I could leave them for extended periods of time if they have a means to get food.” 

“Why would you leave for so long in the first place?” 

“A mission? Sometimes, you have to infiltrate the enemy base.” 

“What do you mean ‘enemy base’?” 

“That could happen in war.” 

“War?” 

“...I mean, hypothetically.”

They tried to list all animals that one could have as pets. Sasuke mentioned a weird cousin that had snakes as pets. 

“Is it Shisui?” 

“No way. He’s too busy for that.”

“...I could see it, though.”

They talked about Shisui’s busy schedule again and then about shinobi life in general, wondering how the balance between missions and free time worked. What was the best ratio? 

Maybe it was because of the pleasant feel of their conversation, or the fact she momentarily forgot that she wasn’t as close to this Sasuke as she had been to hers. Or, perhaps, she had simply been too careless.

Suddenly, she was blurting out those words.

“My older brother is a shinobi.” 

For a second, it was quiet. Sakura didn’t look at Sasuke, quickly adding, “He’s mostly gone during the day, but I see him at breakfast and sometimes dinner. Is your brother gone often?” 

She hoped he would move on. Hoped Sasuke would forget her mentioning Yūta. She had never talked about Yūta to anyone else. Not even Shisui knew of him. 

With bated breath, Sakura waited for Sasuke to respond. 

“...I didn’t know you had an older brother.” 

Fuck. 

Her reply was sharper than she intended. “Why would I tell you that?” 

“You know about my brother.” 

“So what?” She shot back as her mind raced with thoughts. 

She had nothing prepared about Yūta, no backstory for her lack of knowledge on her own kin. She needed to change the topic. Quick. Before he asked something, she couldn’t answer.

“What’s his name?"

“None of your business.” 

“Just answer.” He grumbled. 

“Why?” 

“Maybe I know him. Or Shisui-san. There can’t be many shinobi with pink hair.” 

Shisui?! Just the mention of his name had her vividly imagining the onslaught of questions that would surely come if the talkative Uchiha knew about her older brother. 

“You don’t even know if he has the same hair color as me. Now stop prying. It’s got nothing to do with you.” 

“Why’re you acting like that?” Sasuke frowned.

“Like what?” 

“You’re being…” He trailed off, searching for a word. But Sakura knew exactly what he meant. 

…defensive. She finished, although she wouldn’t tell him that. Sakura knew she was being openly sensitive. Even Sasuke, a five-year-old, had noticed. But she couldn’t help herself. Couldn’t help the automatic fight response to something unexpected. 

Sasuke started talking again, pulling Sakura out of her thoughts. “You don’t want to talk about him.” 

Her heart dropped. 

Sakura trained her expression to remain unchanged. He had hit the nail right on the head. It was scary, almost.

“You’re imagining it. Must be an auditory hallucination. Although, you probably wouldn’t know that word. A kid like you.” She tried to evade by provoking him. 

Sasuke didn’t fall for that, though. “How strong is your brother?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

Sasuke smirked. “So he must be weak if you’re not telling me.” 

Sakura sighed. It seemed he wasn’t going to change the topic now that he knew she wanted to avoid it. A change of tactic, then. Hold out until Shisui gets here. 

“I don’t care about things like that. Knowing how strong my brother is would not change anything.” A lie. Sakura did want to vehemently know what Yūta could do. But that was a special case, and what she said would be the case if she really had a brother.

Sasuke scoffed. “It’s a matter of respect to acknowledge another’s abilities.” Sakura would have been surprised by his wording if it weren’t so clear that he was copying someone else’s words.

It seemed he held some strong beliefs on the matter. For buying some time, it would do.

“Me and him don’t talk about stuff like that. Family isn’t about who is how strong.” Shifting the focus to him instead, she asked, “Would you want to talk about fighting and strength with your family all the time?” 

Silence. 

Only in retrospect would Sakura realize what kind of question she had asked and to whom.

Sasuke’s face was showing clear irritation now. “It’s not about wanting it. Some things happen whether you like it or not. It’s natural.” There was a hint of something else in his expression that she couldn’t place. “Why would I not want to talk about how to get stronger from strong people? They are right there, so I should use every chance I have.” 

In her surprise, Sakura almost didn’t notice that her plan had worked. 

Baffled by the underlying statement Sasuke had made just now, she answered, “...Is that all you talk about with your family? How to get stronger?”

“Just my father.” Before she could reply, Sasuke added, “It’s not my fault that that’s what he wants to talk about. Besides, I could use the time talking about pointless things to train instead. Maybe you are so weak because you waste your time on such useless stuff.” 

“Useless stuff?” 

“What’s the point of it if you don’t learn anything? It’s nonsense. There are much better things to do than… talking.” 

Now she was angry too. She had lost her father before she could even talk to him again. And here was someone who was also on a time limit, yet refused to acknowledge the importance of spending time with his own family. Over something as feeble as training. 

“The point of family is,” Sakura started, “that you spend time with them just for the sake of it. There doesn’t have to be a purpose to it. You don’t have to talk about useful things with your own family, because it’s about enjoying each other’s company. Don’t you get it? Your father isn’t your boss. You can talk about other things too.” Enjoy the time you have left.

Fury contorted Sasuke’s face. “What else am I supposed to talk about then, huh?” He hissed. “My father doesn’t have all the time in the world. I can’t just try something else because you say so. I can’t just sit around doing nothing when he has expectations of me. I need to become stronger. If I start talking about other stuff... it would look like I lost sight of that.”

The loudness of Sasuke’s voice decreased towards the end. As if he was trying to convince himself of something he didn’t truly believe. Maybe there was a way to get through to him.

Sakura’s tone was softer when she spoke again. “Don’t you think if you never talk about anything other than training, you might lose an important chance? What happens if you lose him? You’d regret that you never took the time to talk about anything else—anything that wasn’t about making you stronger.”

Sasuke shook his head. His voice grew colder. “It’s not like he has time for other things as the Clan Head. And even if he did... Tōsan wouldn’t want to talk about that anyway. It's a distraction, he would say. He is interested in my progress. He asks me questions about my training, and I’m fine with that, so what’s the problem?” His words were sharp, but there was a fleeting hesitation to his tone.

Sakura continued to press. 

“Are you really ‘fine with that,’ or just telling yourself you are?” 

“That’s—” Sasuke cut himself off. “...It’s none of your business.” 

She couldn’t argue with that. 

His expression was blank, his eyes cold. Sakura briefly wondered if that wasn’t the very look she had vowed never to let cross his face again.

They spent the rest of the time waiting in tense silence, neither of them willing to speak further. Maybe it was because the both of them knew that there would be no end to this argument. This wasn’t something that one could objectively discuss. Neither of them could possibly hope to make their point clear without revealing more than they could divulge.

Besides, in order for an argument to work in the first place, there had to be two opposing sides. And both of them knew that Sasuke didn’t truly think all the things he had said. Wasn’t truly fine with it.

Training that day was equally tense. Shisui probably noticed it but didn’t comment on it further after Sakura shot him down once.

Later, Sakura spent a lot of time contemplating what she could have said differently. 

Perhaps she had been too naive. After hearing the gruesome details of what went down on the day of the Massacre, and experiencing firsthand how the aftermath of that traumatic event haunted Sasuke, Sakura hadn’t thought that there could have been anything worse to have happened to him.

And while the things that Sasuke had accidentally revealed to her today weren’t worse than the events surrounding the Massacre—It certainly wasn’t what she had expected either.

Perhaps she had been too naive. Unconsciously, she had believed his life before to be full of happiness. A picture-perfect family that loved him a lot—so much that they willingly gave up their lives for him. She had imagined his life to be perfect.

She had never even considered the possibility of Sasuke having suffered any hardships that weren’t linked directly to the Massacre. But of course his life wouldn’t have been full of happiness. He was the second young master of a clan notorious for training their young mercilessly. He was the younger brother to a prodigy that Konoha had not seen in years. He was the son of a man that almost staged a coup d'état. 

How could his life have been perfect?

Sakura had been too naive.

Sasuke had told her of his family once. He talked of a loving mother who would always be there to greet him when he came home. The most graceful woman he had ever met, Sasuke had softly reminisced. 

He talked of a strict father who trained with him for hours at the lake. Maybe he had been worried for him. Afraid of what would happen to the Village after the Uchiha clan took over. He couldn’t know now.

He talked of his unreachable older brother, who had seemed like the strongest person in the world. Who would coddle him at home and pick him up after the Academy whenever he had time between missions. 

He talked of his brother’s best friend—the only person who truly understood him. He talked of the busy hustle of the shopping district of the Uchiha Compound. He talked of the calm fields at the edge of the forest. He talked of the mystical atmosphere at the Clan’s shrine. 

At the time, Sakura had been surprised by his sudden openness, as he answered her every question. Later on, she realized that his words had been meant as consolation. As a distraction.

It had been the fifth year of the war. 

Kaguya had reemerged after fifteen months of complete silence. The battle that followed—the biggest one up until then—halved the Allies’ numbers and decimated Konoha in its wake. After hearing that a considerable part of the civilian districts had been destroyed, Sakura rushed to her parents’ house, blocking out all orders she received through the mind link that connected all that was left of the Allies. Ino’s voice blared in her head, telling her to retreat at once!, as she mindlessly ran through the wasteland that was once Konoha.

When she finally reached her destination, she found a pile of rubble and destroyed building parts where her house had once stood. And even without considering the possibility of her parents having left the house in order to evacuate, Sakura had instinctively known.

Her parents were dead.

In the utter shock that realization had left her in, Sakura hadn’t noticed that her mind shouldn’t be this quiet. Hadn’t realized that the mind link had abruptly been cut off. Hadn’t noticed that Ino’s voice had stopped resounding in her head. 

Or, perhaps, she had noticed it and thought to herself, ‘Oh good. Finally, the distraction is gone’. 

Maybe that was why the news of Ino’s death had hurt so much more.

The belated realization that in Ino’s last moments, all Sakura had felt was relief that she could now fully concentrate on reaching her parents’ house. The knowledge that she had abandoned someone she could have saved in order to look for people who were long dead. 

A few weeks passed after that day. It had been around that time that Sasuke approached her. Whenever she wasn’t fighting, Sakura isolated herself from the outside world, wasting the days away by drinking the few bottles of alcohol Tsunade had left her. Drowning herself in grief. 

Only after having both Kakashi and Sasuke try to talk to her—the two most unsociable members of Team 7—did Sakura pick herself up again. She didn’t know what would have happened if they hadn’t done that. If Sasuke hadn’t come to talk to her that day.

What mattered now was that Sasuke, at five years old, had a lot more troubles and worries than Sakura had initially thought. She went over that thought a few more times. Wondered what she, an outsider, could possibly change about family matters. 

In the end, though, she always arrived at the same conclusion—she wouldn’t be able to do anything until she brought up the topic again with him.

Chapter Text

Sakura didn’t know what to expect when Yūta started talking to her. 

She had been meticulously observing his actions this past week, looking for any kind of opening in his mask of feigned innocence. She knew that he had likely taken some kind of oath of silence when he joined the ANBU forces. Yet, watching him deceive his family made her feel a strange, heavy kind of emotion. 

Was it disgust that she felt when he would tell lies to their faces? Or was it fear that sunk into her stomach whenever she noticed herself almost believing one of his lies? Fear that he was hiding much more from her than she knew. 

Or, perhaps, it was uneasiness that would overcome her whenever she looked at him. Him—the brother she never had. Perhaps she felt like this because Yūta was the embodiment of the anxiety that she felt living in this parallel universe. The epitome of the changes she had encountered so far, living alongside her family in her house, eating meals right across from her, and laughing with her mother. ‘You don’t belong here!' she sometimes wanted to shout at him. Drive him out of her perfect life, where everything was just as she remembered it. 

But that wasn’t quite right, was it? Because it was she who didn’t belong here. She was intruding on his life. 

So she would bounce between two states of mind. One, where she tried to accept him as a part of her family, come to terms with the fact not everything could be the same. Tell herself that this was far more than she could have hoped for. 

And another, where she felt like the disturbance his existence created was the source of all her problems. She knew it wasn’t true. And yet she found herself wanting to accuse him of being the root of it all—her weak body, her too-small chakra pool, her dead father, her inability to change anything, her anxiety. Occasionally, she caught herself wondering if perhaps something would shift if he were gone. Perhaps everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be if only she got rid of him. 

So when Yūta suddenly approached her with an entirely new topic, she wasn’t sure what to expect. 

It started off normal, though. 

It was late in the evening. The two of them had eaten dinner in a comfortable silence, Sakura not thinking it worth the trouble to break it.

“Hey, Sacchan?” 

“Yeah?” She asked as she combed through her hair. It had gotten tangled up during today's training after she repeatedly tripped while going through her katas. 

Damn leaves.

Yūta didn’t look up from the tangerines he was peeling as he continued to speak.

“What have you been up to these days? Made any new friends yet?” 

“It's been fine.” Sakura replied. Yūta looked at her expectantly. “...I made a friend.” 

He perked up. “Oh, really? That's great! Maybe you can introduce me to your friend sometime.” 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” He tilted his head to the side. ”I’ve got to meet my little sister’s friends.” 

“I never meet your friends.” She responded drily. She could probably get away with being rather unenthusiastic by chalking it up to exhaustion. But just in case, she added, “And we’ll have less time to play.”

Yūta raised an eyebrow. “Well, you never ask to meet my friends.” 

“You have friends, Nīchan?” She asked, wide-eyed. And her surprise was genuine.

“Of course I have friends. What do you think I do all day, sit around being cool?” Yūta grinned, feigning offense.

“Cool? Nuh-uh, Nīchan." She shook her head. “You're way too… immature.”

“Immature? Me? If anything, you are the immature one, little sister.” He said, his voice teasing.

“I am allowed to be immature, ‘cuz I'm four. You're old.” 

Yūta looked down at the accusatory hairbrush she had pointed at him. “Hey! I'm not old. Trust me, I know old people, and they're not eleven. ”

Your ANBU colleagues, you mean? She internally shot back. 

Yūta continued, a playful grin on his lips. “Where did you even learn that word, huh? Immature.” He clicked his tongue. “Look at you, using big words… I bet you feel cool right now, don't you?” He huffed before placing a piece of his tangerine in his mouth.

Damn. That ‘not cool’ thing must be really bothering him.

“I read it in a book.” 

“At the library?” The boy asked, swallowing.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded.

“You go there often, don't you? Like, every day.” 

“Yeah. I like books.” 

“That's good, Blossom.” He nodded to himself. “It's good to have interests.” 

It seemed he had calmed down after eating some tangerine. 

When she talked to Yūta, the topic would change faster than a gust of wind. One moment they would be arguing over who got the last stick of Mitarashi Dango and leveling each other with glares. And the next, they'd be chatting about the way everyone would always comment on their pink hair—laughing about the fact it was always the first thing people noticed. 

Maybe this was what it was like to have a sibling, Sakura would wonder then.

“Is that where you met your friend?” Yūta asked suddenly.

Sakura wanted to sigh. Back to this again. 

Faster than the wind, as usual.

As Sakura scrambled for a response, she realized that she didn't have to answer that question. She was a toddler, for fuck's sake. “Maybe? I forgot.” 

“How did you meet?” 

“I don't know. We just play together.”

“You forgot?” Yūta furrowed his brows, suspicious.

Sakura nodded. “I forgot.” 

“Forgetting where you met your first friend but remembering the word immature…” He murmured under his breath. “But, y’know, now you have to introduce us. Maybe your friend remembers how you met. Unlike you.” 

When Sakura remained quiet, he seemed to see that as rejection. "Come on, Sacchan. I'll treat you to some food. You can even choose where we go.” He smiled.

“I'll ask…" Sakura finally said, giving in. Any more resistance would seem suspicious, after all. “But don't get your hopes up!”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

And then they went back to silence again. Yūta started peeling another tangerine as Sakura resumed brushing out the knots in her hair. 

She used that time to mentally go over their conversation. 

Yūta was strangely insistent on meeting her friend. In all honesty, she had only told him about making a friend to ease some of the suspicions he could have. Now that she knew of his ANBU identity, Sakura had decided to be much more careful. And a four-year-old spending hours outside while claiming to ‘just go to the library’ was uncommon at first glance—and downright suspicious to a keen eye.

So having a back-up in case someone asked was always a good idea, she had thought.

And she technically wasn't lying. Surely Shisui and Sasuke counted as friends, to some degree. 

Just to be safe, though, Sakura had refrained from mentioning a name or anything overly specific. That way, she would always have the option to actually befriend some other four-year-old and bring them to meet Yūta. Sakura was quite positive that she could convince her toddler friend that they knew each other for a few weeks longer than they really did. 

But making a friend also included the process of actually befriending them and hanging out together and acting like a toddler herself. And she didn't know if she had either the time or the motivation to fit ‘building sandcastles’ into her routine.

All things considered, though, her talk with Yūta had been quite pleasant. 

This was their first full conversation in quite a while. Yūta was often gone during the day on supposed ‘errands’ and ‘low-rank missions’. Most of their interactions happened over meals, during which neither of them talked much for some reason or another. 

Sometimes, they were both still slightly groggy and only half-awake. Sometimes, they would be too tired after a long day to hold a conversation. Sometimes, Yūta was in a hurry to leave, hastily gobbling down his food and leaving no chance to strike up a conversation. 

And sometimes, after a particularly restless night, Sakura would let her Inner Child take over for the meaningless banter in order to get some virtual sleep in the corner of their mindscape. 

No, not just sometimes. That was the case most of the time, actually. 

Sleep came to her rather easily due to the techniques she had acquired during the war. Kakashi had been the one to teach those to her and the boys—ways to slip into a state of rest in even the harshest circumstances. 

But those techniques were meant for survival in a war of endurance, not for peaceful rest. Sakura’s sleep was light as a feather. The sound of a branch cracking outside her window was enough to stir her awake. Though she couldn’t say she wasn’t grateful for the disruption to her dreams. 

When Sakura’s dreams didn’t consist of being suspended in a strange void of nothingness, they were filled with nightmares. 

The worst thing about them was that they weren’t just nightmares. They were flashbacks. Memories. 

Breathlessly running through a forest as the dark sky above seemed to fall upon her, coming ever closer, caging her in. Her chakra was drained, her body screaming for rest, to catch her breath, and heal the wounds—but no, she couldn’t stop. She wanted to look back, but that would slow her down. And what would she do if she saw the thing she feared the most—got a glimpse of it ? The monster chasing them. The all-seeing being they couldn’t escape. It had already captured the others. Who were they to think they could escape a god ? But she couldn’t stop. She had to run. Suddenly, her feet stumbled. A stray branch. No. She couldn’t slow down. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t look back, couldn’t be caught. Something grabbed her arm. Her heart raced as her mind screamed—this is it. She whipped around. 

Sakura shuddered. 

Her heart was pounding in her ears. Shaking her head in hopes of freeing her mind of the memory, she focused on the empty glass in front of her, concentrating on the cool surface underneath her fingertips rather than her warm, sweaty palms. 

Her temple ached. She hadn’t drunk enough, Sakura vaguely noted. She’d have to stand up and go to the faucet to fill up her glass. Her throat burned. Sakura missed the times when they still had a bottle of water lying on the table, always accessible. She was still half contemplating standing up when Yūta’s words cut sharply through the haze of her thoughts. 

“So, you want to become a shinobi?”

And that question startled her so much that all she could stammer out was a confused, “Wh–What?”

“Kāsan told me.”

“Oh...I see—Did she—” Sakura cut herself off before she said anything she wasn't supposed to say. She stopped her hands from making a fist, curling them tightly around her glass instead.

Fuck. That had caught her off guard.

Yūta nodded. “You want to attend the Shinobi Academy.” That wasn't a question. It was a statement. 

He likely also knew of her repeated attempts, then. 

His expression was grim and his voice steady as he continued. “Why do you want to become a shinobi? You never mentioned anything like this before.” 

“Can't I just—want it? Why do I need a reason?” She said because she couldn't tell him the truth. Couldn’t tell him that the lives of thousands depended on her ending up on a team with Naruto and Sasuke. 

She needed to do this. 

“Becoming a shinobi is not just that, though. You know that too, don't you?” Yūta's voice took on a pleading tone. “Listen, if this is because of what I told you—forget that, okay? It's not nearly as cool as I make it out to be. Being a shinobi is hard. It's difficult. Kāsan is just worried. You don't need to—” 

“Yes, I do.” 

Green met green as she stared straight into his eyes.

She couldn’t back down now.

“Maybe you don't understand. You're just a kid.” Yūta sighed, his voice betraying none of the weariness on his face. He looked back at her, his gaze searching as his eyes said, Don’t make me do this . ”Hundreds of shinobi come back from missions each year, severely impaired. Missing a leg, a hand, or an eye. Their careers as ninjas end there. And they were once driven by the same conviction you have right now—that being a shinobi would bring glory and honor. Make them heroes who would save the world—” 

Sakura resisted the urge to suck in a sharp breath at those words. He doesn’t understand, she told herself. 

“—but reality is different. People won't remember your sacrifice. And what will all that hope have been for, then? There are genin fresh out of the Academy dying on their first mission outside. An entire team wiped out by bandits. And don't think your teacher will be there to protect you. Sure, they'll try to shield you, but that's not always enough. Once you’re out there, it’s a different world. They won’t go easy on you or have mercy.” 

Yūta took a deep breath. His fingers twitched, but he clenched them into fists. The next time he spoke, his voice was heavy with emotion, a stark contrast to the composed delivery of his previous words. “I’ve seen it happen, Sakura. New graduates who believe their training makes them invincible simply because they wear a headband now. Young, naive, and overconfident. And when they face their first real fight, they realize just how unprepared they are. And by then, it’s already too late. They never make it back.”

Yūta halted and stared at Sakura, seemingly searching for any hesitance in her eyes. 

“Even knowing all of that, do you still want to become a shinobi?” His eyes softened. “Remember, you still have time to grow and choose your path later. You don’t have to do this. Not for me. Not for Kāsan. Not for anyone but yourself.” 

Sakura opened her mouth, wanting to argue and tell him that yes, she did have to do this, that he didn’t understand and should just leave her alone, that this wasn’t about what she wanted, because the lives of others were at stake—but her throat tightened up, no words leaving her lips. Her mouth felt dry. 

Because Yūta’s words hadn’t been meant for her. They had been meant for the other Sakura. 

And no matter who he really was or what he was hiding from them—all she could see in front of her, then, was a concerned older brother, worried for his sister. His words didn’t come from a place of condescension or belief that she was too weak to become a shinobi. Instead, they came from a deep concern for his little sister’s well-being, a desire to protect a child from a world that he feared she wasn’t ready for. 

Sakura’s fingers trembled slightly around the glass, so she tightened her grip, clutching it painfully. She stared into the empty bottom, as if the solution might be written there, the perfect answer. 

If someone as sensible as Naruto or Ino had been here in her stead, they would have known what to say right now in order to not hurt Yūta with her inevitable answer. But Sakura had always been blunt with her words, ignorant of the impact they could have. She knew that anything she wanted to say right now would be too harsh to say to an eleven-year-old who simply wanted to protect his family. Who was looking at her with entreating eyes and guilt marring his face. 

So, all she could manage to say was, 

“Yes.” After that, a quiet “...I’m sorry.”

Yūta’s face fell. “I see.” His voice cracked. 

There was a long pause. 

An emotion she didn’t recognize flickered across his face. But before she could analyze it deeper, Yūta recollected himself. His countenance was calm when he spoke again. 

He sighed. “I’ll…try to convince Kāsan.” His tone was laced with resignation.

Sakura’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected him to be so quick to accept her decision. Or, maybe, he had anticipated this outcome. Maybe he had seen the determination in her unwavering gaze. “Thank you.” She said, and her words rang true, for once, with deep gratitude. 

“But—” Yūta began, “Don’t hate Kāsan over this, okay? She is just worried for you. Even if it seems overprotective, she has a reason for—” He cut himself off mid-sentence. “...Just—try to understand her, will you?”

Sakura chose to ignore the implications of what he had almost said just now, nodding instead. “I know. I know Okāsan is worried. It’s just—this is my decision, y’know? Maybe it sounds like an ignorant thing a silly kid would say, but it’s not. I thought about it.” She knew her words were too mature for her age. But she kept going, even risking blowing her cover. “She can’t keep me from doing this forever. I don’t want to hurt her, but this is something I can’t give up.” 

Upon seeing Yūta’s pleading eyes, she added, “But I wouldn’t hate her because of this. I could never.” 

And that was true. Probably. 

She didn’t want to think of it too deeply. Of what she would have done in order to achieve her goal. What she would still do. 

Relief crossed Yūta’s expression as he let out a quiet sigh. 

And what a funny thing it was. To see him so relieved at the confirmation that she wouldn’t hold a grudge—that the relationship between mother and daughter wouldn’t sour over this. To see him so compassionate for someone who secretly regarded him with cold suspicion and so little of the affection that he was showering her with. Who sometimes wanted him to vanish from the universe, if only to test whether his absence would fix everything.

Sakura wanted to feel bad. 

But she knew that she couldn’t blindly trust his words. If Kakashi, Sasuke, or Sai had been here, they would not bat an eye at what could very well be masterful deception by an ANBU member. They would surely not feel sympathetic or risk potentially wasting a chance in favor of not hurting someone’s feelings. They would have known what to do. They wouldn’t have ended up in this situation in the first place. This weird bind she was in, where she kept having to rely on others and depend on their help. 

Their conversation quieted down after that, the tension leaving the room with her final acknowledgement. Yūta didn’t ask again if she really meant it or why she wanted to become a shinobi. Instead, he seemed to be fully supportive of her decision now that she had stood her ground. 

It was strange. He was so calm now, as if nothing had happened—like her words had flipped a switch in him.

He told her about the Academy and what they would teach her there in the first year. He told her that her year would be unique because of the number of clan children. Three of the four noble clans would enroll their heirs, safe for the Uchiha, who would send their second-in-line. If Sakura didn’t know better, it would be suspicious how well informed he was. But as an ANBU, he had likely worked as a guard for important clan members in the past. And he had probably informed himself before he talked to Sakura. Maybe to use it as another argument. 

“This is important, so listen carefully, alright?“ He said then. “You’ll need to train outside of school hours in order to not fall back. You’ll need to work very hard to ensure you, a civilian-born student, can compete with clan children.”

It was the same point Sakura had brought up to Shisui and Itachi all those weeks ago. Sakura wondered what Yūta would say if he knew that she was regularly being taught by one of the most powerful members of a noble clan and training alongside the son of the clan head. 

But then he said something surprising. “Even if you were part of a normal batch of students, the Academy won’t teach you enough to survive out there. The people have gotten too soft because we are not at war right now. But nobody knows when another one could start. It may not be a war, but unexpected things can still force you to go beyond the gates unprepared. And you are going to need to be ready if something like that happens. A lack of proper experience could kill you. You got that?” Sakura nodded, slightly perplexed by his open criticism of the system. Yūta’s eyes were hard, his words seeming to carry the voice of experience. 

But any thoughts she may have had before quickly disappeared at his next words. 

“So, I’m going to train you.”

Hah. She internally barked out a laugh. He sure was surprising her a lot today. A bit ironic, considering she had once thought to have a good grasp on his thoughts. It was like the heavens were mocking her, telling her that she didn’t know anything about Yūta at all, actually. 

Fortunately, her stunned silence was quite in-character for a response to Yūta’s declaration. At least she didn’t have to worry about coming up with an excuse for not answering immediately. Sakura thought for a few moments about what to say. 

But really, what other option did she have other than to accept his offer? It didn’t seem like she had much of a choice anyway. Right now, Yūta was her only hope in the ‘Joining the Academy’ predicament. He held all of the power. And with this statement, he had made clear that he was only compromising under the condition that he could train her until he was sure she wouldn’t die as soon as she left the Village. 

Sakura nodded. “Okay.” It didn’t feel right to add something like ‘That means we are gonna play together a lot, right, Nīchan?’ here, even if it would be beneficial for keeping her cover intact.

Yūta grinned. “Alright. Don’t worry, my training is superb. Hm… I’ve got something to do tomorrow, so we’ll have to start the day after. You good with that?” 

That was Tuesday. She nodded again. Any day that wasn’t Friday was good. 

“Good.” Yūta nodded to himself before continuing where he left off. He went on to explain why her being civilian-born was a drawback and what made her different from the clan children. It was all stuff she already knew. He did mention something about their family being especially at a disadvantage… But that was not important. 

Maybe this is an opportunity, Sakura thought. If she saw him more often, that would mean more chances to observe him. Although, that also meant more chances to accidentally give herself away. 

As for the quality of his training, Sakura was unsure what it would bring. On one hand, he was ANBU, and she had reason to believe that he was even stronger than she had first thought. Him being completely bloodied that night and yet coming home unscathed the day after said enough. On the other hand, she wasn’t supposed to know any of that. But Yūta knew very well what kind of dangers accompanied a shinobi. Would he openly show his abilities or hide his strength from her? 

As Yūta finished talking and the conversation ended with her leaving for her room, Sakura also finished sorting her thoughts. For now, she would have to wait for Tuesday and see what happens then.

Even if the topic had been unexpected and his attitude confrontational, Sakura found that this conversation had ended up being…not nice, but necessary —and in a strange way, reassuring. After constantly being met with rejection at the mere mention of enrolling in the Academy, convincing Yūta felt like a small victory. A step forward.

But above all else, this conversation had felt honest in a way she hadn’t been in…

—how long? 

In all of their past interactions, Sakura had dutifully played the role of the innocent little sister, an ignorant child who got angry over small things and teased her brother for not being cool enough. Getting into play-fights with Yūta, arguing over dinner… She had kept up this act for so long that she sometimes forgot that she was deceiving her family, too. After all that talk about Yūta hiding his ANBU identity, was she really any better? Normal children didn’t fake happiness when they weren’t happy and didn’t act sad or angry when they actually felt indifferent. Even if Sakura deluded herself into thinking she had reclaimed at least part of her old life, all of this wasn’t normal. 

With Yūta, she was always acting like someone she wasn’t. Never showing her true feelings—except for the rare moments when they happened to line up with what her persona was supposed to feel.

A thought crossed her mind then. 

Had they ever had a real conversation?

Today had been the first time she had openly shown her real feelings to Yūta. There were still things she had hidden from him, but this… this was probably as close to normalcy as they could get. 

The next day left Sakura with more time on her hands than she would have liked. She listened to the patter of rain on her window, a rhythmic tapping sound only broken by the occasional rumble of thunder. Everything Sakura could do right now, she could only do outside. But with the storm raging over Konoha, she wouldn’t be able to do anything meaningful. Worst case, she’d come down with a cold that could potentially hinder her for the rest of the week. 

Yūta had left earlier for whatever business he had, and her mother was already long gone by the time Sakura awoke at 7 a.m. She didn’t feel too sad about missing her departure, as Mebuki would always leave very early on Mondays. Lately, Sakura found herself dwelling less on the thoughts about her mother’s odd schedule. 

Once she managed to get an idea of when her mother would leave and come home each day of the week, it started to feel a lot less unpredictable than it had in the beginning. It made things easier to track and harder to feel surprised by. 

She didn’t question anymore why Mebuki left at 5 a.m. only on Mondays, or why she was home until noon on Fridays. It was no longer strange that Thursday always left her the most exhausted, and that her hands would be scratched and dotted with tiny puncture holes on Saturday night, or that—on the rare occasion Sakura was still awake by the time Mebuki came home on Fridays—the smell of sweat and alcohol clung to her clothes. 

Sakura didn’t wonder anymore why she never saw her mother at the library she thought she worked at—or at any of the other bookstores, either. 

She couldn’t ask about it anyway. 

After she spent the better part of that morning unraveling chakra pathways and glaring at the gloomy sky, hoping to somehow wish the dark clouds away, Sakura’s focus began to wane. Her control over her chakra would slip, resetting her progress in moving one of the strands to the side. With no end in sight, she gave up for the day. One afternoon wouldn't make a difference. The whole process was supposed to take around five years, after all.

Sakura sighed as she stretched her sore legs. 

Then, she sat down again and closed her eyes. Inside her mindscape, Sakura moved away from the glowing area at the front—something akin to a ‘control panel’, as she had learned—and came to stand in the back. Next to her was the shimmering spot of energy that was Inner. She always lingered here, in the back corner of their mindscape, watching Sakura’s actions. 

Sakura smiled softly, gesturing towards the front with her arms. Or, what she assumed to be her arms. Unlike in their lower consciousness, here neither of them had a tangible body. Sakura was void of all sensations, and most of her ‘movements’ were just her thinking about what she wanted to do. 

Nevertheless, Inner seemed to understand the familiar notion. Sakura watched as the young soul moved to the glowing area. 

Back in the real world, Sakura’s body blinked awake. She surveyed the room, quickly identifying it to be the bedroom. Her gaze traveled down to look at the light pink sweater she was wearing. A high-pitched giggle escaped her lips. 

Sakura smiled. It had been a good idea to choose to wear it that day. Inner seemed to like it when she wore colorful clothes. 

This was her way of trying to repay her debt and alleviate some of her guilt—letting Inner take over, even if just for a moment.

Sakura watched as her body moved around the room. Usually, Inner would be content with roaming around different areas of the bedroom, playing with the dolls, trying on different clothes, or drawing at the desk. As long as nothing major was happening, Sakura would shift her focus away from the outside world then, spending that time thinking about her plans or trying to get some shut-eye. 

Seeing Inner move towards the desk now, Sakura let her attention slip away, as the familiar routine unfolded without her.

Some time passed before Sakura looked back at what was happening outside. Inner was moving towards the door. 

Huh. She had never left the room before, not even when she took control in other rooms. 

“Where are you going?” Sakura softly called out within their mindscape. 

She waited for an answer. Sometimes she would get one; other times she would remain unheard. 

“Going to meet Kuro-chan!” Inner exclaimed as she pressed down on the door handle. 

The neighbor's dog? 

Inner started talking to herself, stepping outside of the room. “I’m gonna see if he’s nice now. He bit me last time.” 

Oh. She was talking about that. Inner’s sudden wish to go see the neighbor’s dog made some sense now. In one of their previous conversations, they had talked about the dog, Kuro-chan. Sakura had absentmindedly told her that he was a lot nicer now and didn’t bite people. Who knew that Inner would remember that and try to confirm it? 

Inner walked through the hallway. The stairs were just around the corner. But then, her feet stopped in front of a door. She turned her body to face it. 

Sakura tried to hide her surprise. “Didn’t you want to go outside?” 

Inner knitted her brows. “No.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’ll find Kuro-chan there. He lives next door with An-san.” 

After a beat of silence, Inner blinked owlishly. Confusion clouded her voice as she replied, “Kuro-chan? Why’d I go to him?” 

“Hm?” Sakura replied, puzzled. “You said you would go meet him earlier. To see if he became nice.” 

Inner shook her head. “Kuro-chan isn’t nice! He bit me! It really hurt! Dog’s are supposed to put their paws on you an' look cute! They don’t bite!” 

“I’m sure he’s much nicer now.” Sakura said. 

“You’re lying!”

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you. What would I need to do to make you believe me?” Sakura felt an uneasy, unfamiliar weight in the air. Her thoughts spun in a disjointed loop. Haven’t we had this conversation before?

She waited for Inner’s answer, but it never came. Inner’s focus had shifted again, now drawn back to the door handle. Curiously, she blinked up at it. A small hand came up to reach for the handle. 

But, just before she could touch it, Inner froze once more. 

“Are you not going to enter?” Sakura inquired, wondering if she’d get an answer again. 

Inner retracted her hand. “No.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t want to disturb him.” Inner mumbled. “I have to wait until he’s done with work.” 

“Who?” Sakura asked. That room was empty. She knew that for a fact. No one could be inside there. Because that room was—

“Otōsan.” 

—their father’s office.  

Sakura watched as Inner retraced her steps through the hallway, entering the bedroom again. All the while, her thoughts were spiraling with a realization she had never truly considered before. 

She had known for some time now that Inner seemed to be missing a part of her memory. At least ten months, Sakura had thought, back when she first noticed the gaps.

But now, as she reflected on it, a disturbing thought crossed her mind—Inner didn’t know their father was dead.

“Hey, Sakura-chan,” She called out. Inner stilled. For a moment, Sakura hesitated. Should she really be doing this? Wouldn’t it be better to leave the topic while Inner was in a good mood? 

But she wouldn’t be able to get answers if she didn’t do this. 

“Do you…know where Otōsan is? What has he been doing lately?” 

“He’s working lots.” Inner murmured. She reached for a pencil, beginning to draw a picture of a flower on the paper in front of her. “He’s gone a lot. Traveling. Searching.” 

Kizashi had been a merchant. Sakura didn’t remember him leaving very often, though. His business travels were few and far between. 

“Working? Is he working right now as well?”

“...I think. He’s always working.” 

Interesting. When she was younger in her last life, her father had spent much of his time accompanying Sakura on her outings or playing with her. Only rarely had she seen him work in his office. Was this just another one of the changes here? Or was it, perhaps, connected to his death?

“Since when has he been working so much?” Sakura probed. 

“Dunno.” Inner shrugged. “It’s always been like that.” 

Should she stop now? She usually strayed far from any topics concerning recent events. Asking about their father had been a first as well. She had already gathered useful information. 

But she couldn’t stop herself. There was one more thing she wanted to ask. 

“When’s the last time you saw Otōsan?” 

Inner’s body froze. The pencil fell out of her hand. Sakura could feel how she stopped breathing, holding in the air. 

Suddenly, the bright energy in Inner’s soul violently spiked. Instead of the fuzzy blob she was used to, it had taken on the form of an uncontrolled current, the energy wildly soaring around her. At the same time, Inner suddenly clutched her head. 

There was a beat of silence. Everything seemed to stop for a second. 

And then, she began harshly shaking her head. The alarm in her voice was apparent as she repeatedly shouted, “No!” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sakura rushed to the front, assuming control again. 

She forced her body to halt, letting go of her head. Inner didn’t try to fight her, seemingly not noticing the shift in control. It was her soul now that continuously repeated the same word. 

The rampant energy became faster, the perimeter of the tornado-like structure increasing. Sakura didn’t dare reach out, in fear of accidentally causing even more damage. 

In her own mind, she was similarly repeating the word fuck, as she scrambled to figure out what to do. Comfort her? Give her control back? Send her down to their lower consciousness? Try to stop whatever that was? 

Sakura opened her mouth. “Hey… Calm down. You’re safe here, Sakura-chan.” She tried saying, hoping her voice was coming out in a reassuring manner. 

It seemed to have the opposite effect as Inner’s voice grew louder. “No! Go away! I don’t want this! I don’t want to remember! No! Shut up! Go away !” 

Hurriedly, Sakura took a step back. 

Perhaps that had done something; the swirling seemed to slow down. Before Sakura could feel relieved, however, she noticed another problem: the energy was dissipating—the telltale sign of Inner running away. 

“Wait, n—” She weakly called out, but it was already too late. 

The energy dissolved, all traces of Inner’s soul vanishing. Everything went silent.

Sakura was left behind, her mind once again in disarray. It was no use searching for Inner now. If she wanted to stay hidden, Sakura would never be able to find her. And if Sakura wanted to see her again, she would have to wait, just like in the old days. 

What just happened? 

Everything had been fine. Her questions hadn’t seemed to faze Inner, as she happily drew her flower. Nothing had been going wrong. Yet, all it had taken was one misstep. One wrong question, and everything had fallen apart. 

However, amidst all Sakura’s confusion—all of the questions circling in her head, all of the worries she had for Inner—one thought shone through. One thing Inner had said that changed everything.

I don’t want to remember.

Perhaps she had just said that in the heat of the moment. Perhaps it didn’t mean anything. But what if it did ? An idea began to form in her mind. 

It had been her question about their father that had sparked all of this. Specifically, the fact Inner had seemingly forgotten his death. The missing ten months weren’t news to Sakura. She had already had this suspicion, and Inner’s behavior earlier simply confirmed that. Presumably, their father had died quite recently. Likely within ten months prior to Sakura entering this body. When Sakura had asked Inner about her latest meeting with her father, she reacted extremely negatively. 

And then, ‘I don’t want to remember.’

Maybe , Sakura thought. 

Maybe Inner hadn’t just forgotten. 

She had actively blocked her memories to protect herself.

Chapter Text

Soft, golden rays filled the previously dark room as the sun began to rise. Sakura squinted as sunlight caught her eyes. She was tempted to close the curtains to regain her sight—before she remembered that said curtains had disappeared from their dining room a week ago. Yūta said they'd sold them. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway since he'd told her to keep the lights off during the daytime. Sakura preferred being blinded by sunlight to being shrouded in darkness while they sat at the low table.

She stole a glance at the boy sitting across from her, taking in his relaxed posture as they ate breakfast. She studied his face, as if his calm expression could give her some kind of idea of what training would entail.

Depending on what Yūta decided to teach her in his ‘preparation for the Academy training’—her second such course already—the result would either benefit keeping her cover intact or become another hindrance she’d have to tiptoe around. 

After yesterday’s incident with Inner, Sakura had spent the rest of the day theorizing and jumping from one thought to another. While she felt guilty for the almost morbid curiosity she held about Inner’s condition, somewhere deep down, the researcher at her core couldn’t help but relish the prospect of observing a case like Inner’s. She’d examined her theories from as many angles as she could, hoping to find a hole in her hypothesis. 

But no matter how much she turned the thought around, her initial theory stayed solid. 

Dissociative amnesia. 

‘A disorder in which a person suffers from abnormal memory loss. They might forget a specific event or parts of their personal history. Caused by recent or past trauma, witnessed or experienced.’ 

That was the definition she’d come across during the war. 

Some of her studies had touched on the psychological effects of extreme stress. Things like battle fatigue, stress-induced amnesia, depression, substance addiction, imposter syndrome, and suicidal ideation. Injuries of the mind. Though Sakura’s field primarily focused on physical injuries, she—like most Iryōnin—had received brief training from the Yamanaka to recognize the kinds of disorders the war was bound to leave behind.

Even if a person was physically well, mistakenly sending out a mentally unstable shinobi could lead to much larger casualties than just the death of that individual. Shinobi needed to be able to trust each other to have their backs and make the correct calls during the frenzy of battle. 

Tsunade had been right to order the mandatory training. Sakura had come across many patients that were dangerously impacted by mental trauma caused by the war. Many of which were permitted to rejoin the troops after a check-up by a Yamanaka clan specialist. 

Unfortunately, just as many ended up being deemed ‘Unsuitable for Service’. Stripped of their shinobi status, they would be sent to one of the safe zones. It was never a happy thing. Each time someone was discharged, Sakura would catch the way passing shinobi stared after their now-civilian comrade with bitter eyes, silently envious of those that got to leave the frontlines and live in peace deep within their territory.

So while she wasn’t Ino, Sakura knew some surface-level information about dissociative amnesia. Just enough to identify it—although the signs had been obvious, now that she looked back at it. 

It seemed that Inner was blocking out a specific part of her memory. An event that must have happened within the past year. And, judging by her reaction to Sakura’s question about Kizashi, one specific, traumatic event. 

The last time she’d seen him. 

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Their father was dead. Inner’s last meeting with him must have been shortly before his death. 

As much as Sakura hated the idea of it, Inner had probably witnessed her own father’s death. 

Whatever had happened to her father, it had Inner blocking out a whole year of memories—presumably, everything leading up to his death. Not only that, she seemed to be one of the more unusual cases. 

To Sakura’s knowledge, most of these ‘blank episodes’ should’ve been temporary, lasting up to several weeks at most. Yes, the book had clearly stated that ‘the amnesia often passes and memory can be recovered.’

But Sakura had been talking to Inner for months, and not once had she mentioned anything about the missing time. Was it a coincidence? It sounded unlikely. There was a low enough probability of coincidence as is. Sakura couldn’t trust the answer to be so simple. There must be another explanation. 

Did the blank episodes only happen when Sakura talked to her? She didn’t know if a trigger like that was even possible. 

If only Ino were here, Sakura thought longingly. She knew far more about the human psyche. Sakura’s small puddle of knowledge couldn’t hold a candle to the deep understanding her best friend had about everything concerning the mind. 

Well, former best friend. 

Sakura’s heart ached at the word. She was grieving friendships that had never happened. And even if they did… Those friendships could only ever exist in her memories now. 

Ino would never become her “best friend” again. Because Sakura couldn’t allow herself to make that mistake again. It is for the best—no matter how hollow the thought felt. 

Sakura was pulled from her spiraling thoughts by a cough across the table. Yūta cleared his throat once more. 

“So, Sacchan. You wanna do some training?” He stood up and carried his plate to the adjacent kitchen. “Don’t worry,” He called out. “It may sound scary, but we’ll take it easy in the beginning.”

Maybe Yūta had interpreted Sakura’s frown as apprehension. After all, she was supposed to be new to this. Yūta’s ‘Sakura’ was ignorant of all things shinobi. Of course training would worry her. She nodded, setting her chopsticks aside. “I’m ready.” 

As she followed the steps Yūta had taken and moved to place her plate into the sink, the rose-haired boy reappeared next to her. He held an unfamiliar water bottle in his hands. 

“We’ll be doing exercises, so you should have something to drink.” He placed the bottle into Sakura’s hands. “Here. You can use my flask.”

Sakura nodded, wrapping her fingers around the cool metal, absentmindedly noting how comically large the bottle looked in her tiny hands. Surely she wasn’t so small that a common flask should look so big? Yūta’s flask must be larger than normal, Sakura told herself. Probably about double the usual size if she had to guess. Sakura went to pull the flask towards her.

Yūta didn’t let go. Staring down at her with a stern look, he urged, “During training, don’t hesitate to take a pause and drink, alright?” Yūta paused to catch her eye, ducking his head slightly so Sakura could see him from where she’d been looking at her grip on the flask. He resumed with a slight lecture in his voice. “Even if you don’t feel thirsty, you can’t always know when you need to hydrate. It’s always better to be safe than sorry. So make sure to drink more than enough. You got that?” 

Sakura nodded once again, more firmly this time. She knew very well what dangers dehydration brought. A wave of gratefulness passed through her at his concern for his sister’s health. But just as quickly, that familiar pang of guilt that had taken root inside of her stirred again, brushing aside the tender, almost-affection she had felt just moments before.

I shouldn’t be the one receiving Yūta’s affection. 

Suddenly feeling repentant, Sakura asked, “What about you, Nīchan? You should drink too.” 

Yūta blinked, then a slow grin spread across his face. “Aw, you worried about me, Blossom? Look at you, being so kind to your Nīchan.” He grinned proudly. “Well, you’re right! I also need to drink. That’s why I have this flask in the first place. I use it when I’m on missions.” He pointed at the flask in her hands. “But that’s also the problem. We only have one, so we’ll have to make do for now.” He shrugged. 

“I don’t really need to drink as much, though. I’m not the one who’s going to train.” Yūta pressed a finger to Sakura’s nose in a slight boop before standing up and brushing his own hair back with a smile. “So I’ll just drink enough to last me beforehand and rehydrate afterwards when we’re home.” To show his intent, Yūta took his cup out of the sink and held it beneath the faucet as he filled it to the brim. Then, he drank the entirety of its contents within a few seconds. 

Sakura’s inner medic wanted to facepalm. Chugging water like that would only result in stomach discomfort and nausea. Prehydration could only really be achieved by sipping large quantities of water over an hour-long period. Yūta was on a one-way road to heat stroke and vomiting. Well… unless he was using chakra to avoid that. 

Sakura watched as the boy started chugging a second glass before—against her better judgement—exclaiming that she ‘just remembered something’ and running to her room. 

When she re-entered the kitchen, she came to a stop next to Yūta. She lifted the object in her hand up to his face. Its silver surface reflected the morning sunrays.

“I’ve got this.” Sakura said, nodding towards the small bottle she was holding up. 

Yūta’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, you have your own?” He curiously eyed the flask. It had a simple design—made entirely out of polished metal. Small engravings adorned the neck. On a white sticker at the front, the word ‘Sakura’ was written with a pen. “I’ve never seen that one before. Where’d you find it?”

Momentarily, Sakura wondered why she was doing this. Her own intent now felt unfamiliar, even if her reasoning had seemed sufficient just moments ago.

She had decided not to tell Yūta about this to avoid a confrontation in the first place. And she had definitely been perfectly fine with using Yūta’s bottle or even sharing it with him. 

She hadn't said anything before precisely because of the question Yūta had just asked. 

Because this flask was given to her by none other than Shisui.

“I got it from my friend.” Was what Sakura eventually said. 

Yūta’s brows furrowed. “And why would your friend give you a canteen?” 

“I don’t know…” She mumbled. Damn it. Why hadn’t she thought this through? Back in her room, she had been too preoccupied with sticking the name tag on the bottle. “It was a gift!” Sakura tried for confidence, maybe even a little anger that he was questioning it in the first place. But her lack of childlike certainty had it falling flat. "Maybe as a thank you for playing together…?" She almost grimaced at the wobble in her voice. 

“But why a water bottle and not flowers or a bracelet… or something else?” Yūta asked, puzzled. Sakura thought she heard him murmur under his breath, “Is this what kids do nowadays?”

“Or!” Sakura began, trying her best to sound confident in her ‘guess’. “Maybe my friend saw that I never bring anything to drink when we play!” She pulled her arms behind her back, squeezing her hands as she leaned forward. The definition of innocent. Hopefully…

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s it!” She said with a ‘now that I think about it’ tone. Sakura tried to ignore the slight screech in her voice. It sounded just childish enough to be true. 

Please. She silently pleaded with him. Just drop it for now. 

 Yūta opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. 

“Oh, okay,” he murmured, but the words cut off almost as soon as they left him. He gently took the flask from her hands, eyes fixed on it for a long moment, his expression tight. 

The skepticism was back in full force when he finally spoke. “And your friend just… had this lying around?” His eyes were narrowed in thought, grip loose and careful as he turned the canteen over for inspection. “It looks unblemished…” He paused, another question seemingly crossing his mind. His eyes hardened, glancing between Sakura and the bottle. “Why’d a kid go through that much trouble to buy a water bottle you might not even need?” 

“Because we’re friends, duh.” Sakura deflected, annoyance growing. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone? It was just a damned water bottle.

“And your friend didn’t ask for anything in exchange? No favors?” He regarded her with a doubtful look in his eyes. “You sure you aren’t hiding something again? Last time, it was Keito with those Water Release tags.” His suspicion turned to outright worry before her eyes.

“Keito?” Sakura was surprised to hear that name again after such a long time. “This is totally different!” She corrected. “I learned my lesson! My friend isn’t an old man.” Sakura pouted as best she could. Her bottom lip puffed out and curled down as she hunched her shoulders. She put on her best ‘wronged’ impression, going as far as to twitch her lower lip like she wanted to cry.

Shit. She hadn’t expected that stunt from three months ago to come back and bite her now. 

But Yūta didn’t back down. “That’s even more suspicious, Sakura.” There was a weary frustration to his voice now. His eyes shifted between hers, looking for recognition, understanding, confusion, or anything that would tell him he was getting through to her. Sakura knew he would find none. “Sakura, how would a preschooler know where to find flasks specifically meant for shinobi? That, right there,” He tapped the engravings on the neck. “is an inscription designed to drain part of your chakra to maintain the heat within the bottle.” 

He set the bottle down on the counter before turning back to her. He took a step towards Sakura and grabbed her by the shoulders. Frigid fingers dug into her skin with his need to get his next words through to her. His hands are so cold, Sakura noticed, as he shook her. 

“It sucks away your chakra, Sakura! Do you understand? What if it’s designed to drain you, to make you tired? It could leave you so low on chakra, you could faint before you even realize it.” 

Sakura stared at the metal object, analyzing the engravings on the metal. Indeed, the tiny symbols on the neck weren’t decoration like she had initially thought. They were seals. She almost smacked herself, wondering how she, who had worked alongside sealmasters for years, had failed to notice the obvious seal array adorning her water bottle. But her disbelief and anger were quickly redirected at a certain Uchiha. Damn it, Shisui. Why couldn’t you just give me a regular bottle?

Because now, Yūta had a reason to worry. Now he could justify his overprotectiveness and take measures as he saw fit.

While in the hands of normal shinobi the seal's effect would barely leave a dent in their reserves, a child with a small chakra pool would be heavily affected. 

A harmless gift designed for convenience could—if given to the wrong person—quickly turn into a dangerous weapon meant to slowly weaken and eventually incapacitate its victim. 

“Maybe they just didn’t realize that?” Sakura said, her wobbly voice breaking the silence that had fallen. Her irritation at Shisui and her own careless mistake seeped into her voice. Wasn’t he the one who always chattered on and on about not draining her reserves? 

“You don’t always check everything when you buy stuff, right, Nīchan?” Sakura tried to lay it on thick. They were supposed to be children, right? And shopping was something few kids actually paid attention to. Then it should be plausible if she blamed it on a mistake.

Yūta stared at her for a moment, and she could almost hear him thinking, ‘Really?’

Okay, yeah, that wasn’t going to work. Sakura could feel his disbelief rising.

He sighed, releasing her shoulders from his grip, his mind made up. “They don’t just sell this at the local store because of the risk that someone could unknowingly pick one up without knowing the risks.”

Sakura felt a sense of deja vu. Hadn’t she had a conversation just like this with Shisui in the beginning? Something about the Shadow Clone Jutsu not being written in any library? 

Circling back to his first question, Yūta asked once again, “Why did your friend give you that bottle?”

“I don’t know, alright?!” Sakura finally snapped. Her frustration gave way to actual anger as the threads of this lie frayed beyond saving. “He just gave it to me one day! Why would I know why he did that? He said I should drink more water, isn’t that enough?” 

This was complete bullshit! All Sakura had wanted was to do something nice. She hadn’t even thought about it! She knew the dangers of dehydration and had moved to solve the issue without any real thought. All to help the brother that was currently interrogating her like she was an idiot! 

For once, Sakura finally felt like the little kid she was meant to be here. Sucks that what brought it out was anger though. She glared at him, her voice raised. “And why are you so suspicious of my friend anyways? Can’t people just be nice anymore?"

“I have every right to be suspicious!” Yūta yelled back. “This kind of thing has happened before —and last time, I didn’t ask enough questions. I’m not making that mistake again.” His fists shook as he all but erupted. “Sakura, you can’t just blindly trust people! Especially not because they look kind. And if he—" Yūta stopped himself. The steam powering his tirade cut off like a douse of cold water. After a short pause, he choked out, “Wait. Did you just say ‘he’?” A confused silence took root as Sakura realized her mistake. 

She’d let a detail slip in the heat of the moment. When ambiguity was her greatest defense, she’d let it slip . Fuck.

Pretending to be indifferent, she replied curtly, “Yes.” 

“Your friend is a boy?” Yūta echoed slowly in a surprised, almost accusatory tone. 

Sakura nodded, knitting her brows together in confusion. “Is that bad?” 

Surprise lingered on his face for a few more moments before his expression cut into a deep frown once again. This time, Sakura thought he looked even angrier than before. 

Ignoring her question, Yūta ground out a question, “When did he give it to you?”

Sakura thought back to the day—one week before Shisui had handed it over. The one-month mark of their weekly training sessions had just passed, and Sasuke had joined them for the third time. 

“What are you doing?” Sasuke asked her with a look of feigned nonchalance. Itachi had left to go to some kind of appointment a few minutes ago after promising Sasuke and Shisui that he’d come back as soon as he was done. It seemed in his absence that his younger brother had decided to offer her some company.

Sakura briefly looked up from where she was sitting by a tree trunk. 

“Stretching.” She answered matter-of-factly as she moved to fasten her other ankle weight to her leg. It was one thing to train with Shisui and Itachi, but Sasuke came with his own tangle of emotions that Sakura wasn’t ready to face.

“That’s not stretching.” The Uchiha boy refuted. “What're those things?” 

“Weights.” 

“Why do you—” Sasuke began, only to be cut off by Shisui’s interjection.

“It’s part of her training routine. I told her to put those on before running her laps.” He flashed Sakura a grin. “By the way, Sakura-chan, it’s great that you’re so used to putting ‘em on now. You used to hate ‘em!” 

“It’s not like I’ve got a choice.” Sakura shrugged. “And why would I train with you if I’m gonna to refuse your methods? That’d be a waste of time.” Sakura’s voice dropped into a petty whisper. “Even if I hate running laps with the added weight.” 

“Oh, come on. Is it really that awful?” Shisui sighed dramatically but quickly replaced his frown with a smirk. “Hey, look at the bright side—you’ve come a long way. Remember when you’d finish up and just collapse on the ground?” Shisui giggled before he wistfully continued his lighthearted mocking. “You were out for so long back then.”

“I was trying to catch my breath, okay?” Sakura defended, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

Out of the blue, Sasuke asked, “Is that all you had in your backpack?” He was eyeing the small bag lying at the roots of the tree stump. He scrutinized her seemingly completely lacking equipment. 

“Yeah…?” Sakura responded, confused. She looked over to her bag once more. It wasn’t large enough to carry anything other than her weights… What was Sasuke on about? But he didn’t say anything after that.

Finishing her stretching routine, she leveraged herself back onto her feet. A quick swing of her legs let her adjust to the added weight and identify the muscles that would need to compensate for it. She dusted herself off before finally breaking the silence that had fallen.

“Anyway, I’ll get going now.” She called out briskly before breaking out into a light jog around the perimeter of the forest.

Just before she left the area, she noticed Sasuke staring at her before quickly glancing away when they made eye contact. 

Later, after Sakura had finished running her rounds—each lap increasing in difficulty as the weight of her legs grew ever so slightly—she sagged her way back onto the tree trunk, wheezing as she did. 

Shisui stood next to her, idly chatting about his old Chunin Squad. He was detailing his experience with one particularly ‘difficult kid’ who had always been distant. 

“But when I talked to him outside the mission, he was a lot more friendly. I thought, maybe this guy isn’t as aloof as I thought. He kind of reminds me of you actually—”

Sakura listened with half an ear, occasionally nodding. Her primary focus was still on regaining control of her breathing. Her shirt was soaked in sweat while the hair at the back of her neck stuck to her skin. 

“Did you bring anything to drink?” Sasuke suddenly asked. Sakura looked up at where he was practicing his kunai throwing. He seemed just as surprised as her that he’d said that. But he collected himself surprisingly quickly, leveling her with a disapproving stare. 

Taking her silence for an answer, the boy continued with a lecture. “You shouldn't do that. It’s important to drink.” 

Itachi nodded from behind him, having rejoined their group once more. “Frequent hydration is just as crucial a part of exercise as physical work.” 

“I don’t have a water bottle.” Sakura admitted then, not finding any reason to lie about her past quest to find a bottle to bring to training. Apparently, her house was void of anything resembling a flask.

She thought that was the end of it before Shisui joined in. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? There’s no point in preventing you from overusing your chakra if you instead collapse from dehydration…!” The curly-haired teenager seemed to want to add something in the pause that followed. But when Sakura waited, he left it at that. 

A week later, she was provided with an answer. Shisui presented her with a brand new water bottle at their following training. With humor in his eyes, he threatened to throw the flask at her if she didn’t drink up.

At first, she had rolled her eyes at Shisui’s mother-hen behavior. But at the end of their training, Sakura found herself feeling quite grateful to both Shisui for providing her with the sweet relief of cool water on her dry throat and to Sasuke for bringing the issue up in the first place. 

That day, Sakura had revealed to Sasuke her lie about the Academy, and the conversation had ended in an argument. Now she felt like she owed him somewhat of an apology. She called out to him as he was leaving with Shisui.

“Hey, Sasuke? Sorry for earlier.” 

Said raven-haired boy turned around with a puzzled look before his expression twisted into a scowl. It seemed he was expecting her to mock him again. 

But Sakura subverted his expectations by giving him a soft smile. “Thanks for worrying about me last week.” 

And then she turned around and left. 

“Uh…” Sakura began, mentally calculating the date, before she realized that she didn’t need to. “I dunno. It’s gotta be at least a month ago.” 

“At least a month?” Yūta repeated, before shaking his head. “Before or after Keito?” 

Where was he going with this? “What do you mean before Keito?” Sakura asked, opting to play dumb to buy some time. 

“Did you get your bottle before you met Keito?” 

“No, it’s not that far back.” When Yūta began to nod, she added, “I think.” 

“You think?” He sighed. “Okay, was it already November? Or December?” 

Sakura stared at him for a few seconds, lost on where this conversation was going. “I don’t know. Why is it important? Can’t we just go train? I wanna—” 

Yūta sighed before he relaxed with a droop. Maybe he’d realized that he was getting nowhere with this. Sakura hoped, at least. Yūta raised a hand to stop her from asking more questions, shaking his head. 

“Never mind. Forget about that. We’ll go training now.” Sakura almost felt relieved at finally ending this sort-of-argument thing. But then, just before she turned to put on her shoes, Yūta said something else. 

“But take me with you next time you meet your friend.” 

Well, fuck. For a second, Sakura just stood there, the words ringing in her ears like a dropped kunai clattering to the floor. 

“What? Why? No! I don’t want you to.” She said quickly. And just like that, the adrenaline was back. The speed of her response betrayed her panic.

If Yūta ever found out who she was really meeting—what she was really doing—then everything she had been hiding from him would come crashing down. She hadn’t been maintaining her ‘just a kid’ cover in front of Shisui or Sasuke. Yūta would know that she had been pretending this whole time. 

He’d realize she’d been pretending all along—playing immature, holding back. He’d learn she’d been training for months behind his back. That she knew things she shouldn’t, couldn’t possibly know. All the little cracks he hadn’t noticed would snap into place. And then it would all blow up in her face.

No. She couldn’t let that happen.

“It’s just one time. I’m going to see if this guy’s up to anything good.” Yūta looked at her with a stern expression, his brows drawn low and jaw set. He crossed his arms slowly, spine straight and still. His fingers drummed once against his bicep before falling still. “I’m your older brother, and you’ll listen to me, Sakura.” It was then—as she heard his firm tone that left little room for retort—that Sakura realized the extent of Yūta’s determination. 

She wouldn’t be able to get out of this easily. 

“I don’t—” Sakura started, her hands coming up in front of her as she began to fidget and twist her fingers together. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, scrambling for something to counter with. “I don’t even know when I’ll see him again! We don’t plan it or anything.” 

One of her hands came up to pull at a lock of her hair in frustration as her mind ran in circles looking for an excuse. “And you’ve got missions and errands and—and ninja stuff, or whatever!” She gestured vaguely with her free hand, voice rising a little. “You can’t just follow me around all the time.” 

Her arms folded tightly across her chest, squeezing them there to prevent further fidgeting. “And my friend—he’s super shy. He’ll avoid me for sure if you’re there.” She wanted to wince at how desperate that sounded but pushed on, her eyes flicking away from Yūta’s face and back to the canteen. “His family has shinobi—I’m sure he just asked them for a bottle, or something, I don’t know, but I promise he’s not shady. Don’t worry about me.” Taking a deep breath, she ended her appeal with a pleading “...please.”

Finally, she looked up again, taking a glance at Yūta’s face. 

He looked… surprised, most of all. Stunned, really. 

Dread settled in her chest as Sakura wondered if she’d just made a grave mistake. What if the other Sakura hadn’t been the type to argue with her brother? But no, that couldn’t be right. All of her previous interactions with him—his easy reactions whenever she pushed back during their little squabbles over meals, his playfully mocking and teasing without worry that she’d take it to heart—they pointed to this Sakura being someone who stood her ground. Assertive and familiar.

Had she been wrong, after all? 

What if, in her panic to cover up the lies she’d told, she’d inadvertently caused the exposure of the biggest of them all? 

Sakura held her breath, cautiously studying the way Yūta’s expression morphed from surprise to careful consideration, then finally to something a little more certain, as if he’d quietly settled on his thoughts. 

His eyes softened just a fraction, and in that moment, Sakura knew that she had won. 

“Fine.” Her older brother said at last. “You won’t have to take me to your friend.” He put emphasis on the word ‘friend’, letting it hang just long enough to puzzle Sakura. She blinked, letting her mind snag on it for a moment more before dropping the thought. 

Because somehow, impossibly, she’d managed to dodge a massive bullet. And if she hadn’t, the only thing that might’ve slowed it down was the web of lies she’d wrapped around herself. It was a small win—but just barely. Because if Yūta ever found out the full truth, there’d be no more compromises. Just anger. Betrayal. And the end of her mission.

“But,” Yūta said, bringing her sense of relief to a screeching halt. 

“From now on, I want to know exactly what you’re doing whenever you’re out.” Yūta’s voice was firm, and this time he wasn’t going to budge. “Even if your friend isn’t someone sketchy—” There was that weird emphasis again. “I can’t risk someone dangerous slipping under the radar just because you don’t see the threat.” He fixed her with a hard look, arms folding again, shoulders squared.

He paused, looking at Sakura. Maybe he was expecting her to object, but she nodded. Her shoulders relaxed just slightly, and she exhaled through her nose. This was a far better outcome than Yūta’s earlier demand. She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth—especially not when she’d so narrowly sidestepped a disaster.

He seemed satisfied with her reaction. His posture eased, arms no longer crossed so tightly over his chest as his voice took on a placating tone. “It won’t be forever. Just until I can be sure that you know how to defend yourself and recognize bad intentions.”

“Okay.” She said quietly.

Yūta nodded, and the remaining tension finally left his body. His shoulders lowered, and he let out a slow breath. “Now that that’s done…” The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a familiar smile as he tried to lighten the mood again. “Let’s get to our training session, alright?”

Sakura forced a grin in return. Her cheeks twitched with the effort, but she managed to hold it. She told herself to be grateful—that she’d escaped what could have been a total disaster. Getting Yūta to drop the idea of meeting her 'friend' was no small victory, not when failure would have meant taking Yūta to meet one of her Uchiha. 

Still, there was a lingering feeling of dissatisfaction brewing inside her. All of this could have been avoided. It’d been her impulsivity and stupid guilt that had her retrieving that bottle. She could blame Shisui’s carelessness and Yūta’s protectiveness all she wanted—but in the end, she was the one to almost blow her own cover.

Training Ground 16 was a small clearing on the edge of the Village, no larger than a medium-sized backyard. Two people standing at opposite ends would still be within shouting distance. It was located close enough to the Hokage Rock that Sakura could make out only the Senju brothers’ faces—the rest were too distant to discern.

Seeing Tobirama Senju’s face sparked a flicker of irritation in her. He was the reason she’d half-panicked over how to deal with an illegal book he’d seen fit to leave in a random cardboard box in the biggest library in Konoha.

The walk to the training ground was mostly silent, as Sakura followed Yūta’s lead. Only once they were standing in the middle of the clearing did the boy speak again. “Ready to learn some cool stuff?”

Sakura nodded before setting down Yūta’s bottle on a patch of grass. As for the one Shisui had given her, she had been able to convince Yūta to let her keep it (“It was a gift!”) under the condition that she’d only store it in her room and never use it. 

Yūta gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. It’s just the basics.” He said, before stepping into the first stance.

Over the next few hours, he walked her through the Academy katas. As it turned out, Sakura didn’t have to fake the learning process. 

Since time traveling, she hadn’t prioritized the basic katas, instead skipping that part and going straight to relearning her preferred fighting style. Last time around, she’d stuck to what she was taught at the Academy up until her apprenticeship under Tsunade. Having spent the past months exclusively refamiliarizing herself with another fighting style, she was completely out of practice with the basics. The movements felt unfamiliar, with the same kind of disconnect she'd felt with her younger body back in the beginning.

Throughout the two hours they spent training, Sakura only paused once to drink. This kind of continuous physical exertion was already familiar to her after training almost every day the past three months. Yūta didn’t question her above-average stamina. Maybe because he didn’t have a strong point of reference—after all, he’d become a shinobi at eleven. 

That was another thing that Sakura had questions about. At the very least, Yūta had graduated from the Academy one year earlier than most. Although the Academy system allowed students to take the test at any point of the seven years, early graduation was still rather unusual, especially coming from a civilian-born. 

The implication of that piqued her curiosity. But it wasn’t like she could just ask him, ‘Why the hell is an eleven-year-old in ANBU?’.

Maybe she’d be able to get some information out of him during these training sessions. Through getting to know him better and learning his habits and mannerisms, Sakura was positive that she’d find answers to at least some of the mysteries concerning Yūta Haruno. So far, she had only found out that Yūta had a solid grasp on the Academy basics and was somewhat good at teaching them. 

Well, she probably wasn't the best person to judge his ability to teach, though. 

As someone who had already done all of this at some point, the problems Sakura faced as she tried to learn the katas were a lot different from those that first-timers would encounter.

Normal children ‘her age’ struggled with coordination of hands and feet or overcoming their natural reflexes to, say, freeze up instead of dodging. 

For Sakura, the difficulty lay in applying the things she knew by heart to a body that she was thoroughly unaccustomed to. Back in her first life, she had finished growing at around seventeen. Since then, she had become used to her height, her reach, and her flexibility—all of it now gone. Essentially, she was trying to get rid of eight-year-old habits.

In the end, Sakura still got the basics down quite fast. Nearly all fighting styles originating in Konoha were variations of these basic katas. The forms served as the foundation and were intentionally designed to be adaptable, making it easier to develop more specialized techniques. Kind of a one-size-fits-all approach. 

So, even though she had never gotten around to trying out the katas—she had figured she’d learn them at the Academy anyway—many of the stances and movements were familiar enough that she managed to pick them up in just a few hours, even if her execution was far from perfect.

Yūta praised her for that, which Sakura answered with a ‘proud’ grin. This was likely still far more progress than he had expected from a child who had supposedly never trained before. 

He surprised her then with a development she hadn’t expected so soon. 

“Since you’re adapting so quickly,” He began. “We may as well start with some chakra control.” 

“Huh?” Sakura sputtered, her surprise genuine. 

Yūta smiled at her, although his expression was a bit strained. “For better or for worse, you already had some contact with chakra. It’s what Keito taught you back then. Making the seals glow—that was chakra.” He explained. “Chakra is the basis for almost all jutsu that ninja use. You mold it in your core—which is in your belly, by the way—and you combine physical energy and spiritual energy there, but that’s not really important.” He waved it off with an easy smile. “Your chakra is stored in your chakra pool, and when you perform jutsu, you draw chakra from there, and it flows through your pathways to wherever you want it to be. Did that make sense?” He asked.

Sakura would’ve liked to nod and say ‘totally’, but that was too smart for a four-year-old. “Kinda.” She said instead. 

“Kinda’s enough. You’ll pick up the theory later.” His voice dropped then, and he grinned playfully, as if he was telling her a secret. “You don’t actually need to know the details to do the basic stuff anyway.” 

If she were still twenty-four, Sakura would’ve berated Yūta for not teaching the proper theory before moving on to the practice. But this turn of events was working out for her, so she simply nodded. 

As the day progressed further, Yūta taught her how to access her core and manipulate her chakra. He walked her through the process at a snail’s pace, frequently reminding her not to draw too much chakra. The memory of her ‘accidentally’ wasting half the contents of her chakra pool must have still been fresh in his mind. 

Since she wasn’t supposed to have used chakra in over two months, Sakura pretended to be mostly new to the process. ‘I forgot it’ seemed to work a lot at this age.

Yūta was an… alright teacher. With the katas, he had been quite good at demonstrating them and teaching her how to get a hang of it. With chakra control, however…

“You’ve got to, like, feel your core. Just—close your eyes and try to search for a—for a swirl. It whirls around, and—” Yūta made a spinning motion with his arms, gesturing. “It should have a certain feel to it. Mine feels cold, for example. Try to sense it. It should be right there, swirling like it’s alive. You know?” 

“What?” Sakura asked, closing her eyes. Okay, five more minutes of confusion and then I’ll do it.

“Uh… If you don’t find it immediately, look around a corner.”

A corner? 

“Yes, a corner.” Yūta answered the question Sakura had accidentally said out loud. “Not a real one. You need to pretend there is one, even if there’s nothing. Like, flipping a paper. That feeling, replicate it.” 

She didn’t even have to act confused—he was doing all the work for her. Sakura furrowed her brows. 

The boy sighed. They were at this for well over ten minutes by now. Yet, he remained patient with her—as patient as an eleven-year-old could be, at least—never getting mad at her, always trying new approaches. “Okay, open your eyes. We’ll try something different.” Sakura’s eyelids fluttered open. The sudden glare of the noon sun made her squint. “Do you remember how you did it back with Keito?” 

“Not really. It’s been so long.” 

“How did he explain it to you?”

“I dunno.” 

“Oh, okay. Um… Yeah, I’m kind of running out of ideas now.” Yūta laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. Like usual, it was kept in a low ponytail. “Hm… Maybe you need more description? Okay, how about this; Lemme feel for your chakra, and I’ll tell you what it’s like. Give me your hand.” 

Sakura complied, and Yūta took her hand, holding it with both his hands. She felt his chakra reach out and allowed the intrusion, letting it flow through her body. 

He hadn’t been lying, his chakra did feel cold. It reminded her of the way his hands were always a few degrees colder than the rest of his body. 

That had been one of the first impressions she’d had of Yūta. His cold hand on her shoulder as he pulled her out of her thoughts and endless questions. And to the list—who is this boy? Why is he here? Why did he call himself my brother?—she had added one more: Why is his hand so cold? Even now, three months later, she hadn’t been able to answer a single one of them. Quite the opposite; she just kept adding on to the list.

Yūta pulled back. “Your chakra is green.” He didn’t offer anything more. 

“Just… green?” 

“Yeah. Green like your eyes. Or, I guess, my eyes. Here, look.” He leaned down, pointing a finger up at his iris. “Your chakra is forest green. Or is it lime green?” He murmured before shrugging. “Eh, whatever. It’s green. And… it feels kind of fresh. Like a soft breeze during a hot summer.” Yūta patted her head. “Try again. Search for your chakra. The feel of it.”

Once more, Sakra closed her eyes. She figured she had wasted enough time now. As was second nature to her, she reached for her chakra pool. 

Huh. Maybe her chakra was kind of fresh. But she couldn’t quite get behind the green part. Did chakra have color? 

“I think I got it.” Sakura said after a while. 

“Really?!” Yūta exclaimed. “Finally! I thought you were never going to get this.” He sighed in relief. 

Sakura huffed, offended. “You didn’t believe in me, Nīchan? I thought you were supporting me.” 

“Wait, no! Of course I was supporting you.” He hurried to correct. “I just—I thought this wouldn’t take so long. I mean, it was easy for me, and you’re my sister, so…” He trailed off.

“How long did it take you?” Sakura asked, seeing an opportunity. 

“Uhm… Like, a few minutes?” He scratched the back of his head. “I remember the teacher was still explaining when I got it.” 

“That sounds fast.” And it was. If Yūta was telling the truth, he had managed to get a feel of his chakra in record time. Even her 15 minutes were already on the faster side. It explained why he was so bad at teaching it, though. 

“Is it?” Yūta asked, grinning sheepishly. 

After Sakura had ‘learned’ how to control her chakra and direct it to her chakra points, Yūta taught her the Leaf Concentration Method. He told her to try sticking the leaf to her forehead by directing all her chakra to it. Remembering that she had succeeded at this on her first try last time around, she skipped the usual act of fumbling and let the leaf stick to her forehead with effortless precision. 

She was getting a bit impatient anyway. Yūta’s training wasn’t really offering anything new. It just allowed her to be less cautious about her progress in the future. 

Sakura displaying her chakra control didn’t go unnoticed by Yūta. Upon seeing that she had completed his initial task of ‘just try to let it stick for one second’, he ruffled her hair and gave her a thumbs up. 

He mentioned that he, too, had good chakra control. It was one of his strong suits, something he could always brag about in front of others. According to him, their family had always had great chakra control whenever they produced a shinobi. 

“In exchange for that, though, we have a comparably small chakra pool.” Yūta said then. “Like, way below average, even for civilians. It’s just enough to get by, really. Maybe it’s supposed to be for balancing. Good chakra control but shitty reserves. Wouldn’t make much sense, though. Proportions are all messed up.” Before Sakura could ask something, he added, “Oops, I shouldn’t have said that word. Forget that, Sacchan.” And he moved on from the topic. 

It surprised her a bit, hearing Yūta complain about something Sakura had thought she was alone on. Shitty reserves. Hadn’t she had that exact thought once, too? 

That was confusing. Because that meant her—no, their unusually small chakra pool was genetic, something that was passed down. Not just an inconvenience that had happened to her specifically. 

Yūta had said this was a common occurrence within their family, the Haruno. Sakura didn’t remember being told anything like that last time around. Nothing about their family having had strong shinobi in the past. Perhaps her parents had just never mentioned it. 

But the chakra reserves thing was new. Another difference.

And apparently, this wasn’t a recent thing. It wasn’t like Yūta or Mebuki or differences in their house, or her father dying. It was unlike all the other changes she had encountered so far, which were minute differences that had occurred within the last 15 years. 

This was something that went way back. Yūta had implied decades of subtle, compounding shifts that had rewritten their family's legacy.

It was unnerving. To know that history had permanently changed on such a large scale.

Yūta offered to buy her lunch after training. Sakura considered suggesting Ichiraku but discarded that thought soon after. She should keep Yūta separate from the other people. After all, her persona in front of Teuchi and Ayame was noticeably different from her behavior when she was with Yūta.

They ended up getting some premade bento boxes at a stall close by. The two of them had strolled around for a bit, bentos in hand, and had eventually found a small park with benches to eat at. It was fairly empty, safe for a few people walking their dogs and two children playing at the playground on the other side of the area. 

Sakura hungrily devoured the main dish, Chicken Teriyaki. She had spent a lot of energy at the physical portion of the training, and her hunger had been growing ever since. 

Now that the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as earlier, she was more optimistic. And Yūta had even suggested that they eat lunch together without her having to ask. Of course, not having to spend her own pocket money for once was welcome as well. 

She looked up; Yūta sat across from her, watching.

“Does it taste good?” The older boy asked, regarding her already half-eaten food with a humorous smile. 

“Uh-huh!” Sakura nodded, showing him a thumbs-up since she couldn’t properly answer with her mouth full of rice. 

“That’s good,” Yūta said. He looked like he wanted to say more. And his smile seemed almost… uneasy? Shameful? 

He didn’t follow up with anything, though. Sakura waited, chewing slowly—thirty times per bite. Proper mastication aided digestion and nutrient absorption, something she knew well. She counted in her head, mindful of not eating as hastily as earlier. 

14, 15, 16…

That was a bad habit from her past. Even long before the war had started and made every meal seem like her last, her years spent working at the hospital had brought forth this tendency. It would become apparent whenever she would eat out with her friends and was always the first to finish. But she couldn’t get rid of that ingrained habit, even when she was off-duty.

21, 22, 23...

When there were always patients in need of care, surgeries waiting to happen, and medics awaiting her orders, eating became a chore. Something to complete as soon as possible in order to get back to work. Tsunade-shishō would always eat fast too, she had noticed once.

28, 29—

“Sorry for not being there for you these days.” 

Sakura blinked.

30. She swallowed her food. A part of her was still lost in her thoughts, but her gaze instinctively shot up to Yūta’s face. His eyes, which held the same jade-green hue as hers, were filled with that emotion she had seen on his expression earlier. 

Guilt. That’s what she’d seen.