bo·tan·i·cal (bə-tān'ĭ-kəl)
-adjective
1. Of or relating to plants or plant life.
2. Of or relating to the science of botany.

"I can only do…the smallest things for Naruto!" And the wounds on her arm bright red, as if proclaiming otherwise.

"It's not a matter of big or small. What matters is how strongly you feel about Naruto."

A silence as still as eternity as the emerald optics widen with surprise.

A small chuckle that will split eternity between what has come and what is to come.

"Sakura…I can tell by looking at you. In reality, you—"


Long ago—too long ago for me to remember—Orochimaru infused sixty infants with the DNA of the great Senju Hashirama. Out of all those infants, only one survived.

Me.

Thus, I wield some of the Shodaime Houshukage's abilities, namely the ability to create Wood from combining Earth and Water. Wood, the flora that sprouts from seeds implanted in Earth and fertilized by Water, perpetuates the cycle by spreading its own seeds.

You must be wondering why I'm waxing botanical like some Western hippie tree-hugger. To put it simply, thinking botanically is the only way I can make sense of something like this, of what Naruto and Sakura have done to their teammates and everyone around them.

Much of what happened is apropos to flora somehow.

Naruto, for instance: (irresponsibly) planted his seed unto Sai and Uchiha Sasuke and will not be there to nurture and cultivate them.

Sai and Sasuke: the soil in which Naruto spread his seed. Or the vines that clung to that (phallic) column that was Naruto and now lay helplessly in a heap, watering the earth with their tears.

Tsunade, the weed that snuffed out any hope Sai and Sasuke had of justice by pollinating the others with her propaganda.

Sakura. The cherry blossom (or should it be primrose?) that enchanted Naruto with her petals pink with beauty, eyes green with fertile opportunity as we watch within the foliage of Team Kakashi's training grounds and I am forced to use my own foliage to restrain the wrath of the boys and tear away the perversity of Kakashi-sempai.

Everything is said and done, and I sit at home when the memory of Tenchikyo jolts me like Sasuke's Chidori.

Certain things remained unsaid regarding Sakura's feelings for Naruto. But even things unsaid can change the course of a lifetime, set off a chain of events like a simple flap of the wings of the butterfly, an insectan catalyst of pollination.

Here, the things that remained unsaid were a seed rooted, germinated in the fertile soil of Sakura's mind, blossomed into a (cherry) tree in full bloom, released its beautiful toxic petals on everything in its path.

And I am the one who planted that bad seed.

So here I am, hands gripping my scalp as I plant my head on my desk, reaping just what I sowed.


All characters © Masashi Kishimoto
This story, Wicked Game © me