Hello! Thanks so much for reading, this is my first story!
Summary: They say it takes a village to raise a child, but in Sakura Haruno's case, it takes young woman to raise a village. A take on Sakura as Rokudaime. Spoilers up to Chapter 632.
Chapter One: Tradition
"Are you ready?" Kakashi asked as he watched the crowds mingle beneath him. Sakura snorted, that was a loaded question if there ever was one.
She was not ready when she had first met the man next to her, announcing his intentions of failing her team just after she finally achieved her hard-sought out Genin status and academy graduation. She was certainly not ready, at 13, when he subsequently forced her into the chunin exams or when had to chop her hair off midway through to make a point.
She hadn't been ready when Sasuke went rogue, when Naruto went off to train for three years, when Tsunade very nearly killed her with training and studying, when she fought Sasori and lost Chiyo, when the Akatsuki attacked the village, when she went off to war. When she was reunited with Sasuke and Naruto, briefly, for one incredibly moment, then lost them forever.
When, in her 22 years, had she ever been ready? She hopped Kakashi could appreciate the irony, as she did, and she conveyed it in the exasperated look she gave him.
"I look like a sack of potatoes," she said, raising her arms to showcase that, yes, the robes did nothing for her figure.
"Don't be ridiculous, potatoes aren't pink," Kakashi replied, tilting his head as if to get a better look at her. Sakura scowled at him, shrugged off the damn confining traditional Hokage robe, and stomped in the direction of Hokage tower platform. Shikamaru, from his position beside the podium where he was to stand as her right-hand man, gave her an even more exasperated look then he usually did before turning to the crowd amassed below to announce her.
Sakura paused, just a moment, and listened to the hush that fell over the crowd at Shikamaru's words. This was the first time, in a long time, where her nerves caught up to her and she faltered. Her eyes strayed to the Hokage monument, where her two predecessors absent gaze seemed to pass her to look out at the village. It was tradition that all Hokage were to look serious in their mountain-top counterparts (much to the chagrin of Senju Hashirama, who thought he looked like a tight-ass in his own portrait and complained about it until his death bed).
Naruto's face, however, showcased his tell-tale smirk. It was incredible, to Sakura, that a mountain could convey Naruto's confidence. And idiocy; it looked ridiculous as Konohamaru had kept his promise to graffiti it non-stop.
Sakura smiled as she gazed out at her fallen teammate's monument. Screw tradition.
Sakura turned to Shikamaru, who had just finished, and strode past the podium to the edge of the platform of the tower. She looked down at the crowds, a blur of faces both known and unknown. She smirked. Being ready was overrated.
Sakura braced herself before jumping atop the metal railings. Now, she had a clear view of the people and village. Her people and village.
'So cheesy,' she thought. But, as she felt the metal beneath her and the breeze past the mountain, stiffing the restless tress in the forest that she could now see with her assisted height, she felt it, something. Not sure if it was love. She had lost too much to this village to call it devotion. Maybe what remained of it, though, whatever that might be.
"I am the Rokudaime, the shadow of flame," She announced to Naruto, and to the world.
"SHE WANTS WHAT?!"
"Um...the robes to be dyed pink...sir."
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