A.N. – I'm on a total Sakura kick lately. This isn't a part of my drabble series "Observational Skills" because it's both too long and not a part of that timeline. I'm not even sure if this is part of canon's timeline. Rated T for language. This quickly-written 400-word flash fic all came about because of "Graceless" by the National. I don't own that or Naruto, and I certainly don't profit monetarily from this little work in any way.

"Come apart at the seams
Now I know what dying means
I am not my rosy self
Left my roses on my shelf"

-"Graceless" by The National (off the album Trouble Will Find Me)

Graceless

The day after Sasuke leaves (and Naruto, damn him, follows), Sakura empties her dresser and closet and strongly considers a bonfire in some rubble-strewn corner of the village.

Deep down, she knows she tried. She did her level best to prevent the calamities that befell her home and those close to her. But Sakura can't help but bear the weight of all the failures upon her already weary shoulders.

If she was stronger, she could've held Sasuke and forced him not to run. If she had a little more resolve, she would've given him some very compelling reasons to not defect. And, if she had just looked beyond her shallow little worldview for one fucking second at any time since she'd become genin…

Well then, maybe she wouldn't be staring at all the clothes she owned in a dusty heap on the ground, matchbook in hand and regrets eagerly awaiting the flames.

Sakura cannot see everything coming, no matter how much training the Academy doled out (and how much extra learning she sought in the pages of books and scrolls). So Sasuke leaving is a hammer straight to deeply-held convictions that, so it turned out, were only dead weight. Naruto bounding after is sifting through the detritus of those beliefs, scavenging for anything worth salvaging.

So, if Sakura had to burn it all down to rise up anew from the ashes, that would be the path she'd take. Because fuck if this current one could get fouled up any worse.

Mouth thin and grim, Sakura strikes a match and stands back.

She has no team to return to, now. Her sensei is in the wind. Her (former?) comrades are scattered to far-flung locales and allegiances. And the poor, little, pink-haired kunoichi gets left on the sidelines – just like always. As Sakura stared into the heart of the quickly-growing conflagration, she too swore an allegiance – to herself, to her betterment, to a more positive future no matter who was and was not in it.

Konoha needed to be rebuilt.

Sakura Haruno needed to be deconstructed.

Turning away from the roaring fire, Sakura started toward her home before pausing. A realization settled around her; she almost sat down with the gravity of it. She's not sure if she actually has a residence to return to, or a family lying in wait.

Sakura scoffs. It was just one more pity for the pyre.