Lessons Learned

The mist is all gone but Sakura doesn't move. The concrete is cracked and slippery from ice, the temperature finally rising since a few minutes ago. Sakura can see now, but she forgets how important this is for her mission. Her breath comes out visibly—a single puff, small and soundless.

Naruto isn't looking at her. He is hardly ever ashamed or embarrassed, and Sakura being clever, somehow understood before she saw. The bridge and the sky merged in greys and whites of a landscape behind Naruto's shoulder, and a dark speck of a prone figure lay unmoving in the crumbs of a battle.

"I'll come with you," said the bridge-builder. "That way you won't be breaking your sensei's order."

Sakura marveled how sharp her senses have become yet she belatedly registered the client's offer. Her small hand found his, and not for the first time she truly felt like a child.

"Okay," she whispered.

The dark figure is like a hole in the sky that drains the world into nothing, sucking Sakura and Tazuna-san in, closer, closer…they passed Naruto who blends into oily blurs in the corner of Sakura's eye, his orange and yellow disappearing in her vision. Her sandals skidded and her ankle protested but Sakura felt none of it, only the tug towards the body flat and still and dead in front of her.

The sight is unholy and vibrant. Sakura may be a kunoichi, but a death such as this is as novel to her as it is to Tazuna-san. They are transfixed at how disturbingly picturesque it is: a boy pin-cushioned by senbon needles. There is little blood but around those that crust the senbon on his neck, adorning him in a perfect ring of thorns. Sakura takes it all in, drinks and drowns in the sight of him and observes, learns, because this is what Sakura is good at. Learning. The matrix of her mind simulates the photographic memories of pages from Standard Shinobi Regulations and Codes on what to do with the bodies of elite shinobi.

Sasuke is hardly elite by reputation, because this is also his first high ranked mission, and Sakura doubts he has fought several other Zabuzas and Kakashis and conquered them all in his twelve years of existence. He fought as though nothing scared him, as if the world ebbed into his direction and he just went with it fluidly, and for Sakura that was elite enough.

Her hand flew without her permission to his face and she palmed his cheek absentmindedly. A Kakashi-echo resounded in the background of her thoughts: Lesson two—genjutsu.

Sakura tamped down the urge to form the ram seal and whisper "kai"; she wasn't so foolish. Her mind produced procedural output on the situation: Enemy shinobi must not take possession of the bodies of elite shinobi. They hold precious information that may be used against you and your allies...

"He's cold," Sakura murmured. "This…isn't an illusion…"

Tazuna-san is unsure what to do, and doesn't step forward to hold the little girl's shoulders in comfort. He understands this is not his world, but he thinks it also shouldn't be Sakura's.

"Don't mind me," he said. "It's best to let it out and cry."

Sakura agreed. She always felt better doing so, and her mother would tell her the same thing. Cry it out my child, she would say, and let it burn away your grief. Sakura never forgets her lessons.

"I always scored a hundred percent on the ninja exams."

Tazuna-san is surprised but he listens, not knowing where this is coming from. His young little escort shook in her attempt to control something in her small chest. Her hand has not left her teammate, his face shadowed by Sakura's form.

"I memorized over a hundred shinobi sayings," Sakura continued. Her voice trembled and rose a pitch. "I always wrote the correct answers."

Her mind played like an old film, and the catalogued pages of a test and a book flitted at the forefront of her thoughts. The twist beneath Sakura's ribcage wound tighter and she fought with all she had not to collapse.

"There was this question that appeared, one day," Sakura let go of Sasuke, feeling a little sick. "'Write down shinobi saying #25.' I wrote down the answer as usual…"

Sakura opened her mouth, and her lungs swelled. She didn't want to absorb any of this, it hurt too much…but she took it all in, unwillingly, for learning is her life and her soul, and now she is learning through experience. Her chest expanded and white-hot pain crawled up her throat, her eyes and her face.

"No matter what the situation, a shinobi must keep emotions on the inside…"

But Sakura knew she never would. She cannot keep it in because it always burned bright and big so wonderfully and devastatingly, and her body must learn this, must never forget.

"You must make the mission your top priority, and you must possess a heart that never shows tears…"

An inferno mass exploded in Sakura, and with prideful sorrow she disregards her shinobi codes and mourned Uchiha Sasuke. She looked at him again and the loss hits her, opening her and filling her to the brim, branding her skin, her insides, her everything. To the skies she screamed and she doesn't care that she is wasting energy on emotion. Her chakra flared, flickered, steamed invisibly around her as this memory is seared into her, all that she can see, hear and touch.

Her sobs fizzled, leaving Sakura exhausted. She burrowed her face in Sasuke's shirt and surrendered herself to aftershock. She is crying still, and there are now just embers of the day left to dim into ashes. She doesn't care that her back is turned, that her neck is exposed to the cold, that Zabusa's blade may just be seconds away to her throat…

"Sakura…"

Sakura gasped. She saw nothing, but her ears picked up the unmistakable raspy voice. She waited, uncertain if her grief has made her mad and has weakened her state of mind.

"S-sakura…"

Sakura looked up. Her head turned sharply and her eyes focused on two dark ones, blinking into consciousness. Sasuke's lips parted and he craned his neck to speak again.

"You're heavy," he croaked.

In another circumstance Sakura may have felt annoyed at his words, but now she could hardly care less. Her chest is hammering again but now in euphoria, in life anew, and Sakura is embracing her teammate, never mind that a senbon needle was pushing into her own skin.

Sasuke squirmed in her grip. "Sakura, that hurts…"

Sakura agreed. It hurt like hell, to be shattered so brilliantly then be made whole again, to learn this shinobi life of theirs through loss, to be deceived of it and know that they will not always be so lucky.

Sakura helped her teammate up, explaining to Sasuke what he missed. She is elated, her child's heart mended again, but a dark, black hole has been scorched into it. Her body has become acquainted to the sensation of loss, regardless of it being false. Sakura doesn't feel like being reminded of this fact. She called Naruto over, shouting at him, pointing at Sasuke and basking in the joy of Naruto's sweet relieved smile. Sakura glanced at a senbon glinting on the back of Sasuke's neck. She remembers it forever.