Sakura remembers a time when she wasn't a sunny blonde haired boy; remembers being spoiled rotten by adoring relatives and cooing adults; remembers a team that supported her, chasing away boys and were more like brothers than anything else. But most of all, Sakura remembers a time when she wasn't named Naruto, a time when her parents didn't have blonde or red hair, and when loneliness and abandonment didn't make her consider suicide.
It's utterly confusing once she thinks about it-going from fighting with her team against Kaguya, to seeing a head of blonde hair and sharp, tired ice-blue eyes. But then Sakura thinks of her death. How she longs to get up and comfort Naruto's distraught figure even though her spine-is-completely-severed-oh-my-god by Kaguya's hand and bits of internal organs splattering the ground around her as she falls and Kakashi's horrified face-. Smiling gently as her world goes black, Sakura thinks, this, must be what death is like…..
When a splatter of red blood splashes on her swabbing robe, her scattered memories and exhaustion from having a demon fox sealed into her push her into unconsciousness. But the pain of loss causes her to bawl uncontrollably and mourn for the lost peaceful days.
The first face she sees when she opens her eyes -( and nearly squeaks as she-he's not able to control her-his bowel movements.)- is Kakashi.
Through all the smoke, ANBU uniform and viscera, the faint muted smell of wet dog and clove kunai-oil comforts her as her-his diaper is changed. His eyes are crusted with pain, and are painfully red from lack of sleep, while his lean stance is haggard and slouched. She then tries-and fails- to give a sympathetic pat to Kakashi, but ends up smacking herself in the stomach as something in her gut stirs. Against her will again, Sakura starts crying. Watching Kakashi freak out is something that would normally have her delighted, but after having his precious people killed by Obito of all people, she immediately feels guilty.
She decides to go back to sleep-despite the guaranteed nightmares to come.
The next time Sakura wakes up, she's greeted by the the worried face of Mikoto Uchiha.
Sakura supposes that Mikoto is a pretty women-as all Uchiha women are: pale skin, pitch black hair and a lithe figure... But if she looks slightly to the left of Mikoto, someone with chin length hair and stress lines watches on in something reminiscent of sympathy. And then she realizes that the person currently watching on in concern is none other that Uchiha Itachi.
She-he screams for help. Someone-if not anyone to save her from the clan murderer, the cause of Sasuke's pain and betrayal; and if in answer, fifty or so other screams of babies born from stress miscarriage answer her. In an alien way, she is comforted by the sympathetic screams, joining in the shared intrinsic grief of losing a parent.
The caretaker quickly comes around with aids, quieting the children with simple shush and caress of the cheek. Nothing more. Nothing less. None of the typical cooing and near frantic and tired look when her old parents tried to comfort her. None of the slightly too-tight hugs from a doting aunt.
And Sakura is suddenly reminded that she is not Sakura anymore. She is Naruto. A no-name orphan with his childhood hero being his biggest damner. Naruto who smiles and laughs as an iron defense to block harsh words and utter loneliness...Naruto in a time where Itachi did not murder his clan, where Neji is still alive and has no grudge…
Sakura-now Naruto, smiles his baby-ish toothless smile, and closes a tiny fist within her swabbing blanket. She would be able to save so many people-so many lives that had been lost with her own stupidity. This time. This time Naruto thinks. Things would finally be different.
He wakes up several times-screaming from a combination of internal discomfort and distorted nightmares. Every single time, she is immediately cared for by warm, calloused hands that seem huge in her line of vision. They have a familiar sort of smell-like the chakra smoke after a katon jutsu, and Naruto is immediately reminded of Sasuke. Until he realises that the hands carrying him are Itachi's. It takes most of his baby will not to scream for help again.
Even so, the soft cooing sounds are comforting, and it's warm, he thinks. It's comfortable. A careful hand rubs his tender belly and pokes his belly button, making him laugh.
"Mother, Naruto-Naruto's awake."
The voice is hesitant and soft for a future clan killer, but Naruto can't really hold too much of a grudge against the gentle little boy. It's somewhat ironic that he would be the one to trust someone who had lied so often-but for the moment, Naruto thinks that all is good.
.
.
.
He doesn't realize that while he sleeps, the one who calls himself Madara seems to snap up in an epiphany, eyes gleaming red and watery, as suddenly-he remembers.