"Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be."
All she ever dreamed of.
Oh, Sakura knew she was going to die. In fact, even before she had stared in shock at the fistful of flowers clutched in one hand— she knew she was going to die.
She wasn't a strong warrior, or a fabulous kunoichi like those she had read about as a child. She was a genin (barely) with no power, a bit of book knowledge and a too-large forehead. She wasn't going to survive, and she knew that as much as the next person. She was on a team with monsters and heroes, those who would go to fight gods and demons- and she wouldn't.
By all perspectives, she would probably be dead. From a stray kunai, from poison or suffocation or an unlucky moment- there was no way Sakura was getting out of Team 7 alive.
But this- this she could control.
In the world of ninja, control was a rare commodity and all the more precious for it.
She would die- but on her own terms.
And that was the day she stopped caring. Who cared if she might die on the next mission, or the one after that?
She was going to die anyway.
She would die and it would be controlled, since it was going to come either way.
Maybe when they buried her, the daisy would consume her and grow up through the ground. She hoped they would. Maybe Kakashi would finally understand, when he saw white daisies and gardenias bloom at her grave. She wouldn't be burned— her family wouldn't allow it and her will stated she would be buried. Kakashi had signed off on that one, with merely an odd glance and no more to add.
She wished he had asked.
Just once—
But he won't, not with the memoirs of another love written into his lungs and the scars of hate wound into his tongue. Perhaps he can't anymore.
It doesn't really matter, not anymore. Unrequited love is usually unrequited for a reason. She'll take this down with her, etched deep into her bones and if he ever deigns to glance at them, he will see the fabric of her being scrawled over with endless facsimiles of his.
And wound around her backbone will be all she ever dreamed of- daisies and cherry blossoms and roses crowded and wild and wound so tight the bones shatter. A wishbone made of flowers and flesh—
All she ever dreamed of.