Hello, this is my first fanfiction story. I normally do the reading part and not the writing part, so bear with me.

This was a initially a project at school, which became a form of stress relief for me. We were going through poetry in one class and reflecting on similar events that have occured in history in the other; weirdly out of that, this baby was born.

I blame a friend of mine, who is obsessed with time travelling and reincarnation (unsurprisingly, she's a Dr Who fan). She thought the idea of being reincarnated back in time would be awesome, but I was more focused on the repercussions that reincarnation/time travel would have on the person and events that are, and probably, won't occur.

My friend wanted me to write a Dr Who fanfiction story, but I know next to nothing about that series, so we settled on Naruto.

Naruto, or Sasuke, was going to be the main character of this story, but then I knew either of those characters would be OP from birth. (I mean, they're essentially gods with all the skills and power they have). So, my friend persuaded me to use Sakura.

Characters will be definitely OOC.

I'm giving you a warning, my grammar isn't great.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or these characters, I'm just adapting and playing around with canon for my own entertainment(sorry Masashi Kishimoto, I hope I don't slaughter your great work too much).

"Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light [1]."

"O, none, unless this miracle have might,

That in black ink my love may still shine bright [2]."

The sun died, snuffed out by the night and, in that darkness, no one thrived. Days were spent fighting, hiding, running, all to survive. So many lights went out, turning the world colder and colder, but still he was not satisfied.

No one wore smiles or carried joy in their hearts; they were just sad, just as broken, just as bitter and just as angry as he, but still he was not satisfied.

Even when night's blade caught her, even when the earth beneath them drank her blood, even when his lightning made her tired vessel convulse, he was still not satisfied.

In fact, as her world was swallowed by black and her heart slowly stopped drumming, she spared one last glance into his ebony eyes and found nothing but frustration.

"Nothing can give you meaning, Sasuke. You're doomed to be hollow," were the final words she spent her last breath on and that felt like enough.

All she wanted now was to join familiar faces, hear familiar laughter and finally have warmth seep through her pores.

Yet it seemed fate had another plan.

"History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes [3]."

A gorgeous woman knelt over her baby, a halo of red silk (the same hue of red as leaves in autumn) surrounded the child's face, protecting her from the horror outside these walls.

Teary eyes, a dark shade of forget-me-not blue, soaked in the sight of child's flushed cheeks and the tuffs of pink sticking out from her head. Her laughter came out garbled, sounding more like choking.

"Ne, I thought red and yellow made orange, not pink," she whispered, voice heavy with sorrow. The child continued to sleep, just as she had after she was born. While a masked assassin mingled her midwives blood with her own, her daughter slumbered, innocently unaware of the chaos the man wrought around them.

Then, before the man's kunai could bury itself inside her chest, a flash of yellow appeared, whisking her and their child away.

Kushina whispered another prayer to any god who listened, thanking them for that small mercy. It was too painful to think of what the assassin might have done to their child while her body, not yet cold, laid only a few feet away.

She felt his chakra before she felt his hand on her shoulder. Reluctantly, she peeled her eyes away from their daughter and met his gaze. His eyes said more than words ever would.

They would never see their daughter grow.

Minato kneeled beside her and, for a moment, everything was right in Kushina's world. She had her family right here with her and, if she concentrated hard enough, her ears were deaf to the noise of screams and roars outside of their home.

Minato carefully raised their daughter into his arms, so tentatively and gentle as if she was a fragile glass doll. When he pressed a soft kiss against their daughter's forehead, Kushina fell even more in love with him and she didn't think that was possible (not when she already felt like he was her oxygen and there was no life without him).

"I don't think the name Naruto is going to cut it," Minato joked, trying to spare her a smile. It came out a grimace.

Kushina played along, she deserved at least one more domestic moment before the inevitable. "Now that you mention it, I don't think she is a he, as we expected. I told you we should have painted the room pastel green, not blue, dattebane."

Minato studied the room, painted baby blue, around him. There were frog teddies of different sizes lined up on top of the wooden drawers, a seashell mobile hanging over the crib (made by Kushina because even though Uzushio was gone, she was determined to implement some aspects of the village into their child's life), a wooden rocking chair Jiraiya bought them ("where was he meant to read to his god child," the man had asked, "on the floor?"), a rocking horse that Mikoto had gifted them and a fluffy light blue blanket draped over the crib's side (Kakashi didn't know what babies needed, but he wanted to give them something).

This was meant to be the room their daughter grew up in. This was where he was meant to rush to, at god awful hours of the night, to settle her cries, rock her, change her and feed her.

Kushina, reading the look on her husband's face, tried to shift his attention by asking, "what should we name her? I can't remember if there was a female character in his book."

Minato twirled a short lock of pink around his pinkie finger. "Sakura, I think we should name her Sakura."

Kushina nodded, agreeing with him. Their child's hair was the same shade as cherry blossoms. "Sakura, Sakura Namikaze."

Minato winced and stood, shattering the moment with his action. "I have too many enemies for her to carry my last name."

Fear struck and embedded its talons in her heart at the thought of their daughter alone.

"I can seal it into her!" Kushina exclaimed, bunching up the sleeve of his kage's robes in her fist as she tugged him towards her. "Let her have one parent Mina, I… I won't live long b-because of the extraction. She'll need you!"

Minato shook his head, his reserve firm despite the tears gathering in his eyes. "You don't have enough chakra and you don't know the seal like I do."

"Then we go together," Kushina rushed onto her feet, ignoring the bout of dizziness she suffered, and she fought off the need to drop back onto the floor. Her body was too tired. Birth had sucked all the energy from her before the forced extraction had done more damage.

Beating Minato to speak, silencing any argument he could make, Kushina stated. "Let me die protecting her too. I refuse to die here, a-alone when you two are out there, in trouble. I love you both more than life itself."

Minato reluctantly nodded and instructed her to grip his elbow. He wished for more time, more time to hold his daughter, to soothe his wife of her fears, but they had used more time than they had already.

Konoha needed them.

"Don't forget to eat your vegetables. Don't be like kaa-chan at school, be like tou-san and study. Change your underwear daily. Laugh more than you cry. Don't stay up late. Brush your teeth, baby teeth are very important. And… A-and… know that kaa-chan and tou-san love you so much. More than anything, Sakura-chan, we want you to be happy."

[1] Do not go gentle into that good night, by Dylan Thomas. (You can access this poem with this link, if you wish: poetsorg/poem/do-not-go-gentle-good-night).

[2] Sonnet 65: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, by William Shakespeare. (You can access this poem with this link, if you wish: poems/50646/sonnet-65-since-brass-nor-stone-nor-earth-nor-boundless-sea).

[3] It's a Mark Twain quote, as far as I'm aware. I've always liked this quote.

Forgive me if my writing isn't great. Writing isn't a strength of mine, which is why I tend to stick to reading. With schoolwork and other things in life, I'm writing to relieve stress. With that being said, I might not be the best story updater...er... (in a roundabout way, I'm saying that I'm going to suck at updating regularly).

Thanks for reading.