For Sakura, time blurs into a stretch of a mellow trying. Trying to get out of bed, trying to find an antidote in the labs, trying to remember her otousan's words, Bad dreams are only bad dreams. Nothing more.
When she opts for soldier pills over breakfast again, a forgotten calendar on her fridge tells her it's been over a month since Sasuke's retun. Sakura supposes people didn't catch on at first because of Sasuke's introverted nature. But soon enough, she starts to hear it everywhere.
His name is whispers in the hospital, the market, and any training ground that holds more than three shinobi. It's always the same when people see her. Faces pop in front of her and start talking to her about him simply, casually, just assuming he's a topic of her interest. Their faces are expectant—like she is supposed to care or something. So Sakura gives them a trained smile and a cordial response, followed by a change in topic. Then they give her a hideous, knowing look. And she thinks she has never felt so naked in front of complete strangers before.
Because she does care. She cares a lot. But it isn't the kind of care that people think and it sure isn't the kind of care she wants to have. It's a care that carries bile—slowly building and oozing through her in a murky vortex of black and red and grief. Sakura knows it is only a matter of time before she's in the center of the spiral, only a matter of time before she snaps.
She tries to prolong it. Sakura grows uncharacteristically antisocial—orders delivery to save trips to the grocery store, wears hoods and hats or even puts on a henge on walks to work, reserves outdoor training for obscure hours of the night. She's pitifully grateful to be cooped up in the hospital's poison analysis division during work. Lab rats don't ask her about past teammates.
And when she enters an empty lab to find a shinobi with a rabbit mask perched on the windowsill, she nearly cries in relief. It can only mean one thing: A mission.
If she can just get a week—just one week, she will be satisfied. She needs to get away from Konoha.
When Sakura arrives slightly later than expected, she finds herself in a full room. At once, she spots Shikamaru leaning against the wall on her right, with Kiba and Akamaru standing near him. Kaito, the green haired sensor she worked with from the last mission is on her left. Sakura looks straight at Kakashi then, who's peering down at the staple orange book in his hand. Something about this image is wonderfully refreshing, floods her with a hot nostalgia, despite the walls of papers on either side of him.
Kakashi seems to finish a sentence before glancing up at her, eyes crinkling at the corners in welcome. Sakura nods her head in return, "Hokage-sama."
"Shikamaru and Sakura?" Kiba says then, his voice paved with awe. "Damn, this mission must be some serious business." He eyes Sakura with a wide, canine grin, the enthusiasm matched only by Akamaru's thrashing tail thrashing and labored breaths.
Sakura finds her smile is genuine, heated even, like his. "Kiba," Sakura greets with a nod of her head. She looks over at Shikamaru, and can't help but agree.
The genius strategist himself is staring out the window, and she'd expect he's just daydreaming like usual if it weren't for the slight tension in shoulders, suggesting contemplation instead. It takes Shikamaru a moment before he meets her eyes, but when he does he inclines his head respectfully to greet her.
She looks over at Kaito then, and his eyes seem to smile at her more than his mouth before he turns towards Kakashi. "So what's the mission?" His is tone mostly calm, but the slightest undercurrent of eagerness is weaved in.
"We're still waiting on one more," Kakashi says and turns a page. He doesn't even look up.
"A five cell team?" Sakura asks.
Kakashi hums in confirmation and Sakura looks over at her teammates then. A strategist, a sensor, Kiba doubles as a part-offense and part-tracking, and of course, there is her—the medic. This is no doubt a delicate and covert mission. But the next nin will probably be another offense-type—a little insurance in case shit hits the fan.
For a brief moment, Sakura hopes for Naruto. It'll be the perfect excuse to make up with him and maybe his endearing positivity will wedge its way into her sense of perspective. But then she remembers how inexpicably awful he can be where stealth is concerned.
"Looks like he's coming now," Kakashi says, his eyes still pasted to his book.
The next moment, Sakura is rigid. She feels the strong, and all too familiar chakra signature approaching. Oh gods oh gods.
Then she hears the muffled steps, shinobi sandals tapping just outside the room. Her eyes fix on the windows, the very same white cloud she things Shikamaru has been staring at. Her heart pounds against her chest like it's trying to bust open her rib cage. Sakura registers the heavy creak of the door opening and closing. And then he's right behind her.
Her mind squeaks and whistles in disorganized panic. Like pieces of broken glass swivelling around in a closed container. Sakura's eyes fasten onto the greyness of the sky and she centers every piece of will to avoid cutting herself on a thought.
Kiba whistles, loud and keen, and it almost combats the creaks in her head. "Well fuck! If it isn't Sasuke Uchiha!" He grins, facing Kakashi. "Now I'm real excited! This is going to be one hell of a mission!" Sakura doesn't dare turn.
"Kakashi." His voice roves over her senses with the greeting. It's vividly deeper than she recalls, though it still carries the same gruff nature he always spoke with and her heart smacks against her rib cage more fiercely because of it. With great difficulty, she retains the mask of her chakra, although the only point of it now is to conceal the uproar in her body.
Frontal lobe. Thalamus. Hypothalamus. Pituitary gland. Optic chiasma...
Kakashi looks past her, eyeing Sasuke in acknowledgement. She wonders if she has even an arm's length of distance from her ex-teammate, or if he could chidori through her head right where she stands. Stop. Stop. He wouldn't do that. Infundibulum. Mamillary body. Pons.
Kakashi sits up on his chair and places his book down onto the desk with great care. His eyes flit around the room to survey each shinobi. They linger on Sakura's face for a moment longer than the rest and she wonders if he can see her insides bubbling.
"Let's get started," he addresses. "First, I would just like to inform everyone here that this is an A rank mission. It's going to be some time before you're actually deployed, mainly because we suspect there might be more intel coming in soon, but as of right now, this mission could last anywhere from a week to a month. There's a good chance you'll be selected for a follow up mission right after you come back as well. The only person this doesn't entirely apply to is Sakura," His eyes lock on her now. "I've already spoken with Tsunade about the case you're involved with. We can talk about those details in a bit." Kakashi then looks around the room. "But first, any objections so far?"
"Yes, actually," Sakura is speaking before she can think, and she's utterly impressed with how calm she sounds. "If it's alright, may I have a word, Hokage-sama?"
Kakashi looks almost as if he expected this, but it's hard to tell. He nods in acknowledgement. "Would the rest of you wait outside for a moment?"
There's a tense pause, and Shikamaru is the first to move, pushing off the wall and letting out an exasperated sigh. Sakura would feel bad if she didn't think he always sounded tired since his father died. "Dammit, Sakura, it isn't easy making these teams, you know. What a bother," he mutters. Now she does feel bad.
The rest of them shuffle out quietly, and she's acutely aware of Sasuke's chakra receding just enough for her to breathe normally again. Then finally, the door closes behind her.
"Sensei—"
Kakashi lifts his hand, silencing her. "It's okay, Sakura." He looks at her then, neither pity nor disappointment in his gaze and she's surprised by that. "It's Sasuke, right?"
Sakura exhales, her arms coming around to hold herself tightly. She wants to maintain some dignity but she's in front of another man who's gone through it all with her and she feels too pathetic to even stand straight.
"I'm not going to lie. I really would prefer you to be on this mission. I need a shinobi as versatile in combat and healing as you. I wouldn't have talked to Tsunade otherwise." Kakashi crosses his arms and sighs. "But I suppose there's not much we can do."
A silence ensues, Kakashi lost in thought as Sakura nervously shifts her feet, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, sensei," she murmurs.
Kakashi closes his eyes, exhales. "I get it, Sakura." He meets her eyes then, and she's too guilty to find comfort in the gentleness of his gaze. "They were his transgressions. If you can't forgive him, that shouldn't be your burden to bear." Kakashi pauses then, and she sees the slightest narrowing of his brow and she suspects...
"But," he inserts. And she's right. "I think you need to look for some type of peace between you two." She represses the urge to shudder, cry, scream—because she expects it from Naruto but she hoped she didn't have to hear it from Kakashi too. And gods it feels like everyone talks about restoration like it's easy when it might actually just be impossible.
"I'm not just saying that because you're both elite nin and it would be much easier on me to not have to maneuver you two on different squads—although, that is true. I'm not saying it because you're an important part of the medical staff and gods know with how impulsive Sasuke and Naruto are, they'll be visiting the hospital more often than either of us would like," he muses, a hint of gaiety in his voice. But Sakura couldn't find anything less funny considering they both took each other's arms off in the heat of their anguish and raw stupidity.
"I'm saying this because I care about you. You don't have to like him. But you don't deserve to be tormented by the past any more than he did, Sakura." His voice is sympathetic now. Sakura doesn't know what to feel. She refrains from chewing her lips to bloody pieces of tissue. "I don't think you're giving either you or Sasuke the credit you both deserve. You're stronger than this, Sakura."
Stronger than this? Her stomach churns in indignation and bewilderment. "But what if I'm not?" Sakura says. "I'm not Naruto, sensei, I can't just—"
"You don't have to be," Kakashi interrupts. "It wasn't just Naruto who kept us afloat all these years, Sakura. You did too." Sakura can feel her mouth twist and she doesn't know whether to shout or laugh at such a grand accusation. "The three of you are the same in that way. You're blindly courageous." But that's not true. She was never on par with them. And the whole world knows it. Sakura feels wretched, unworthy, not a part of Team 7 at all and Kakashi must see this because he eyes her. "Don't give me that look. You are, Sakura," he says. "You can beat this."
She's rigid with upset. And maybe she wants to believe him, his eyes shimmering with such naked faith, but she just can't. Sakura sighs in resignation and gives him a tired nod. "I'll try, sensei."
Kakashi nods back. "I'll take you off the mission. You're dismissed." Sakura mumurs a thank you, bows her head, and turns around to leave.
She takes a quiet, but deep breath in preparation, tries to muster Kakashi's imaginary perception of her before stalking through the heavy wooden doors. Sakura walks towards the right, not even sparing a glance to her left, where the group of chakra signatures stood. She can't look at him, it's too soon. Her legs move at a calculated, measured pace and she feels Sasuke's chakra above them all—invasive and piercing. Sakura's pulse quickens with every second. "You can go in now," she announces, her voice soft and controlled.
"What's wrong? Aren't you coming?" She hears Kiba call back out to her, followed by Akamaru's bark.
"Tch." Her throat tightens at the all too familiar sound. "She's probably going to be too busy at the hospital," Sasuke mocks with unveiled insult, alluding to his previous attempts to see her. And his voice echoes.
Stronger than this. Kakashi said. But Sakura sees red, mouth twitching. That jackass has no right.
She considers stomping with a chakra infused leg, cracking the floor beneath his and her feet and watching the tower collapse on the two of them. How sweet it would taste to die with him now.
But he would probably just portal to safety and she would be left to crumble in her morbid self-prescribed destruction. Sakura keeps walking.
"Why'd you say it like that?" Kiba asks.
"Who cares," Shikamaru's says perfunctorily.
Sakura hears their footsteps and then the Hokage's door open and close. She wastes no time then, bolting forward, and leaping out the closest window.
"Forehead!" Ino's voice resonates from across the field, stilling Sakura's clenched fist.
Sakura studies the dented surface before her. It once resembled an iron dummy but is now crumpled and distorted, having only maintained its metallic sheen. She's suddenly aware of her own soft pants and the cool air against her. She notes how the dull throb in her knuckles helps satisfy the chafe in her head.
Sakura turns to look at Ino and is surprised to spot Hinata too. Sakura makes her way over to them with casual steps. She thinks she might just be exhausted enough to entertain civility for them. She wants to try.
"Hey Pig," Sakura greets. "Hinata." Her lips stretch into a smile, and she's pleasantly surprised it doesn't feel forced. "I haven't seen you out as much lately. How is everything?"
"You're one to talk," Ino jabs. It pinches, but Sakura chooses not to dignify her remark with a response.
"Sakura-san," Hinata's smile is demure as she inclines her head. She ignores Ino's comment too, probably because she's used to the backwards affections of bickering between loved ones by now. "I'm doing really well."
Sakura can see the evidence of that statement. Hinata's cheeks are pale but full, and her dark tresses shine. But what captures Sakura is the zeal in the Hyuga's white eyes—a blinding energy that she only wishes she could emulate. "You look amazing," Sakura breathes.
"Doesn't she?" Ino says, awe in her voice. "I'm fucking jealous. I better glow like that when I'm pregnant."
"Thank you." Hinata looks away bashfully, color warming her cheeks. Sakura's lips turn into a gentle smile, only half forced. Naruto and Hinata have come a long way, and most times it has her swelling with pride. But today she just wants to crawl under her covers, close the blinds, and never think about love again.
Hinata then looks at Sakura directly, "Sakura-san, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I came with Ino-san because…well," Hinata says, looks down, searches for the words. "…I know…Naruto-kun…" Sakura feels her stomach drop. "He didn't tell me all the details, but I feel awful about your argument."
Argument. She wishes it felt as small as the word, and not like the only family any of them have left is being torn apart because of her cowardice. She remember's Naruto's disappointment, and Sasuke's chidori. Sakura closes her eyes and stops herself from dry heaving in front of the two. Her mind drips red, a liquid waterfall streaming into the bleak.
"It's okay, Hinata," Sakura looks away from the two kunoichi. She pretends she's something tangible, something that makes sense. "You don't have to apologize for him. I'm sure he will on his own later anyway. He never lets me stay mad at him."
"What happened between you two?" Ino asks.
"Just another stupid fight about Sasuke." Sakura crosses her arms, and tries to look more angry and annoyed than utterly defeated.
Hinata's voice comes out shy, apologetic. "I-I don't know what is going on between you and Sasuke. But I'm sure you have your reasons." Sakura jaw is tight, her teeth clenched behind the firm line of her lips. Have your reasons? Wasn't it obvious? "I try to discourage my husband from pushing you," Hinata says, looking down disappointedly. "I promise he means well though." Sakura feels sorry for her.
Then she sighs then. Because of course Hinata would come out all this way just to apologize to her on behalf of her idiot best friend. They're both so effortlessly selfless and well-adjusted. Sakura wishes she can be like that too. "Yeah, I know. That idiot always means well."
"I thought maybe we could relax in the onsens," Hinata says, her voice hopeful. "And maybe get a bite to eat." Hinata looks at Sakura then, her eyes pleading and the pout of her mouth demanding adoration. "You...you don't have to worry about expenses. I'd just really like to make it up to you."
"Oh Hinata," Sakura says, apologetic. She covets the innocence radiating off the black haired beauty. What she would do to be clean again. "That's okay, you don—"
"That sounds great!" Ino chimes in, smacking an arm around Sakura's shoulders, and tugging her close. Sakura nearly yelps at the contact. "We can all go!"
Sakura pulls away with a frustrated growl despite how pleasantly warm her friend feels. "Pig," she reproaches, brows drawn.
"What?" Ino asks, her tone too defensive to be innocent. Sakura gives her an unimpressed look. "Oh, c'mon. Naruto's been a pain in your ass with that Sasuke shit—you always complain about it." Sakura crosses her arms but refrains from huddling into herself. She tries to vaporize Ino from existence with the heat of her glare. It doesn't work. "If she wants to treat you, let her. You've been too stressed out to pass up the offer."
"Please Sakura-san," Hinata says, her hand tentatively brushing against hers, her eyes beseeching—needy and nervous. She sees a Hyuga boy with a wet, bleeding stump. His eyes looked like that too as she carried him. My hand.
Sakura recoils from her touch, fighting the guilt. "Okay," Sakura acquiesces. "I guess it's okay." She nods to affirm her position, hoping to dispel that sour look on Hinata's face. "Can I have an hour? I—I want to get some more training in first." She's exhausted and there's a dull throb in her temples, but she needs something to focus on.
Hinata smiles then, genuine and full. It almost makes her succession worth it. "Of course," Hinata responds and gives a graceful nod of her head.
"You already look half-dead, Forehead," Ino says, delicate as ever. "This isn't some elaborate ruse to pass out before you hang out with us, is it?" Her eyes study her, and she can see Ino's mouth twist in disapproval.
Sakura grimaces. "No, Pig, it isn't."
"In that case," Ino walks out towards the field then, "train with me!" Ino exclaims. "It's been too long, and I want to see that monstrous strength of yours."
Sakura feels her chest ache. She knows what Ino is trying to do—checking up on her in a seemingly innocuous way. It's not a request for a spar, it's an interrogation. Sakura knows this is why Naruto always engaged Sasuke's violence when they were younger. She instantly hates herself for the comparison.
"You don't have any gear with you," Sakura says, elusive. Ino is vigilant—sensors always are. She hates that about her friends, all of them are great sensors, acutely tuned to her chakra. They always know. Especially when she doesn't want them to.
Ino shrugs. "You have plenty. Toss me a pouch."
Sakura considers protesting further, but knows it'll give her away. At least she's safe from Sasuke. He wouldn't prey on her with Ino and Hinata around. "Kunai or shuriken?"
Ino began to tie up her long silk strands. "I'll take shuriken."
"May I watch?" Hinata asks.
Sakura examines Hinata, and wonders if she's in on it. She almost immediately dismisses the idea as a figment of lingering paranoia. Hinata wouldn't play into these sick games. "Of course. Will you be comfortable though?" Sakura asks, moving to unlatch her pouch strapped to her right thigh.
Hinata nods. "I'll be fine," she assures, before moving to nest herself beside the trunk of a tree. The sky is grey and she can hear the distant piercing cry of a bird. Sakura scans the Hyuga over, looking for any signs of discomfort before she hands Ino a pouch of shuriken. She's glad her fingers aren't shaking.
They get into position and Sakura takes a deep breath. Then Ino bolts forward.
Sakura starts off strong, hoping to knock Ino senseless and end this quickly. She slams her fist into the ground, launching iron dummies, debris, and her opponent into the air. Ino's shoulder is bruised on one of the metal bodies, before she uses the mannequin to find her footing, propelling herself forward to dodge the others with acrobatic flips and twirls.
Sakura stomps as Ino finally lands, cracking the ground and successfully knocking her off balance, just in time to get smacked in the gut by a chunk of rock. But to Sakura's surprise, she quickly recovers.
Still, Ino struggles to keep up with Sakura, who's leveling the ground with every solid step she tries to take. All she hears is the roaring BOOM. of her own stomps and for a moment, Sakura thinks her plan just may work. But it only takes one shuriken flinging towards her, and she's jerking to the side, distracted just long enough for Ino to get back on her feet.
Sakura's already wheezing, her limbs painfully heavy. Fuck. Sakura knows she is tired, but she hadn't been expecting this.
Then there's an entire barrage of shuriken thrown her way, and Sakura sees them coming, but her movements are sluggish and dislocated. They whizz past her ears as she moves until a piece of metal lodges into her arm and then there are only waves of hot-white pain coursing through her. She's sure she cries out, though she doesn't hear it.
Sakura tries to recover, fingers moving to dislodge the weapons. Her lungs protest as she gasps for air, before she looks up and sees Ino's fist slam across her cheek. The hit isn't the most brutal punch she's taken, but it still has her careening onto all fours.
"I know you're faster than that, Forehead!" Ino exclaims, before taking Sakura's momentary distraction to send her flying with a chakra clad foot.
Her breath escapes her when her back hits bark and Sakura chokes on a whimper. For a moment all she feels is a ringing along her body, and she's reflexively weaving chakra through deplted muscle, torn tissue, and bone until she can think again. Spinal damage. Definitely spinal damage. She can already hear Ino's footsteps coming closer, and while Sakura doesn't expect any less of Ino, she wishes she had more time to recover.
Nonetheless, she somehow does. She traps Ino in a basic and seamless genjutsu where she's still on the ground, before breaking it with a fist to the blonde's stomach, cracking several ribs and sending her flying. Sakura's panting hard, and there's only mild relief in healing a few more of her wounds enough to continue. Her head is heavy and aching and she's at odds with her body. I'm so slow. She thought, pathetically. When did I get so slow?
She sees Ino lifting herself up with a groan, and Sakura remedies it with a kunai to her right shoulder with a callousness she nearly regrets. Ino cry is loud and piercing, and Sakura cringes at the depth of the sound. Just make it quick, she thinks. Because she can't keep this up. She doesn't want to. And she bolts forward, determined to end this.
Ino just manages to get on her feet when Sakura's fist closes in on her right shoulder. Then Sakura's panting, chest burning, and Ino's face down on the ground again, several yards away.
Their spar quickly spins into a taijutsu match, where Sakura easily overpowers Ino, though her body feels as stiff and heavy as the iron dummies she'd been practicing on. Finally, Sakura settles their match by straddling Ino's hips with a kunai against her throat.
"Not bad," Ino groans, wheezing. "I wasn't—" She winces. "—expecting the genjutsu."
Sakura tries to focus her eyes on Ino's face but has trouble. She moves her kunai, not trusting her fingers hold tight. Sakura feels like she might drop at any moment. She's aching everywhere, and for once, she's actually hungry. She hopes Ino can't tell.
"You're faster than I remember," Sakura says, chakra pushing from her body into Ino's. "You didn't use any jutsus." She can barely hear her own voice.
"You're slower," Ino deadpans. "You're not taking care of yourself, Sakura." Rattled as her head may be, Sakura can hear the concern in Ino's voice.
She's quiet, too tired to speak. So tired. Her head hurts. And she doesn't like that Ino's shoulder is bleeding. Sakura pours chakra into the wound assiduously. She's vaguely aware of Hinata approaching them from the distance. "I'm just a little tired from training beforehand," she says, voice monotone and head dizzy. "That's all."
Ino frowns but stays quiet.
"You two were really good," Hinata says with a gentle smile then, bending to help heal their wounds. She's obviously lying but Sakura doesn't blame her. There was nothing theatrical about their spar. After seeing Naruto and Sasuke lunge at each other's throats, she knows she'll never be impressed with a shinobi again. And she's grateful for that.
Sakura tells Hinata to only tend to Ino, "I can take care of mine," she says. Because one person knowing about her body's deterioration is more than enough.
The bathhouse is far more packed than Sakura would like, but she's relieved to scrub off the sweat, grime, and disappointment she has collected during the day. Tenten and a few other women are making idle chat over to her right. Ino probably would have join them, had she not been so exhausted from their earlier spar.
Sakura notes that Tenten looks better than she remembers. Her face is less gaunt, and her attitude is chipper. Even the purple that once adorned her eyes is now a mere tinge of pink. She wonders—between beats of her god awful headache—if Tenten still has to swallow the impulse to kill herself on occasion.
Ino curls around Sakura's limp body, tiredly leaning her head on her friend's shoulder. To her mild surprise, the contact is welcomed, somehow making her feel lighter despite the weight. Sakura tenderly caresses the blonde kunoichi, watching her best friend drift in and out of sleep as Tenten and another nin ask Hinata about the prospects of motherhood.
Sakura runs her fingers through Ino's hair and listens attentively as Hinata spares a few words. Her responses are short, but her smile is bright and her cheeks are rosy, conveying a quiet adoration. Hinata looks to Sakura for affirmation from time to time, and Sakura gives her a soft and encouraging smile.
There's so much about Hinata that is still a mystery to Sakura. Her demure disposition leaves much to the imagination. She's seen her annoyed many times—but never angry. She's seen her very happy too, she is right now. Still, it always comes out in a quiet mellow, softened beneath the shy quiver of her lips, and the pink of her cheeks. But it's there, bold and electrifying, right in the center of her eyes.
Sakura wonders if her quiet is a natural inclination towards reticence or if it's the product of a cruel upbringing. She often used to wonder this with Sasuke too.
Sasuke. What a difference a few years has made, thinking of that name. And in some ways, it's not different at all. Always an unnerving, ubiquitous presence in her head.
Sakura remembers all of it, the sole vivid colors of her feelings in an opaque world. She had adored her Sasuke, loved him to her early death. And oh, death was so unkind. His absence—a lifelong winter.
She remembers clinging to Kakashi and Naruto as if they would slip right from her fingers after he left. She cried to her father. Fought vehemently with her mother, who hated him. More than her tousan, more than herself, even more than her, okaasan hated Sasuke.
"So training under the Goddaime, huh?" Mebuki had snarled, arms crossed. Sakura could feel her mother's smoldering gaze, sizing her up. She'd had that slow simmering quiet since Sakura announced it. Now Kizashi left the room and all Sakura had to buffer the coiling tension was the window's view and the anxious tapping of her foot. "What, are you trying to get in the bingo book just to get that boy back?"
"If that's what it takes," Sakura had snapped. She rose to her mother's challenges more those days.
"Sweet, sweet child," Okaasan said, sounding as if she thought Sakura was anything but. "You're going to get what you deserve—choosing that nutcase over your own family," Mebuki had said. And Sakura longed to be somewhere else. "You should never have become a shinobi."
"Why can't you just be proud of me for once? Otousan is!"
"Your Tousan is a fool!" She cried, voice strangled. "He shouldn't be encouraging you! That waif you're chasing is a monster! One look and I saw—"
"Shut up!" Sakura had screamed, face hot and head spinning. "You don't know him! You don't know anything!"
And she didn't. Mebuki was wrong. About almost everything. About Kakashi, about Tsunade, about Ino, and especially about Naruto.
So why couldn't she have been wrong about Sasuke too? Sakura hated when her okaasan was right.
But what a beautiful boy, Sakura had thought, the first time she saw him. He mesmerized her, called her. How could she not fall for him? His boyish good looks, his midnight eyes, and that damned smirk that seized every piece of her being. A cruel smile—happiness smothered by cynical despair. You're annoying. He said.
What a shitty term of endearment, she knew—but her heart sped up all the same. At least it beats being bludgeoned to near death like he did Naruto. Such a delusional brat she had been, falling for it all. If only he had killed her when he left her on a cold bench. Then she wouldn't have nightmares about him doing it now.
Sakura hears his voice then, an echo of their earlier meeting in the Hokage's office. It was deep and alluring as always, but also matured somehow, despite the juvenile jab he made. She tries to picture the last time she's seen him, which seems far too long and still much too recent. His hair dark and his eyes crimson pinwheels, raw and unnaturally beautiful. His build is muscular, like any shinobi, but something about his physique and his constant, confident stature cries of power. The stern set of his jaw as he looks down upon all of them cements the notion. Her handsome demon.
And with the new Rinnegan, he is deified. The ominous purple hue and the swirl of that divine eye has her seeing flashes of Madara. His dark incarnate—just as beautiful and painfully monstrous. Gods the Uchiha were—here to cast judgement and claim retribution from Konoha.
Sakura is pitifully thankful she doesn't know what Indra looks like in that moment. She might picture him killing her then too. The three of them would be having a dart throwing contest, except their darts are arrows of lightning and their dartboard is her head. Their eyes bloody revolutions, their smiles keepers of grief. Love lost to the wheel.
"Mm...Sakura?" Ino's voice chirps out, snapping Sakura back to the steam in front of her face.
Sakura jerks her head towards Ino. Her best friend yawns, before pulling away slightly to nestle her head more comfortably in the juncture between Sakura's neck and shoulder. "You're shaking, forehead," Ino mumbles into her skin. "Relax with me."
"Oh." Sakura deeply exhales and she's surprised by how much tension leaves in just that one breath. She wraps her arms around Ino who sighs contentedly.
"I swear you two are gay for eachother," Tenten says then. "I've actually been being with a girl and we didn't even cuddle like that."
"Oh please, Tenten, that doesn't count," A kunoichi interrupts. "You two didn't even fuck. You were just experimenting."
And Sakura rolls her eyes. If 'experimenting' secretly meant 'fucked up and desperate to feel again because Neji is dead' that statement might have been more accurate.
"Just saying. We all know Ino's bi, and you've never exactly dated anyone." Tenten looks at Sakura inquisitively, adorning a sly smile that was probably meant to be cute. "You sure you're not gay?"
Sakura knows she's teasing. Tenten doesn't mean to be offensive, but it feels like outsiders are trying to pry into her too much. It's been making her sick. Sakura tries to keep the resentment out of her voice as she speaks. "Yes, I'm sure."
"Oh...wait a second..." Tenten begins, the clever smile grows marginally wider. "Sasuke's back, isn't he?" I just saw him in the market the other day." And while Sakura struggles to maintain composure, Hinata flinches on her behalf. "Well? We all know you were like in love with him. You two aren't…are you?"
Sakura pictures herself drowning. Water filling her lungs and stealing her last, unwilling breath. Okaasan probably died that way. Suffocation. She remembers her blue skin. Opioid overdose tends to do that—slows the breathing until the unconscious victim is tragically dead. Sakura imagines the clear liquid of the bath blurring her eyes until she sees only black, then white, and finally nothing at all.
Ino's mumbles in the background of her hazy mind. "Tenten," Ino's voice is drowsy, but she still answers for Sakura since she's too busy fantasizing about death to open her mouth herself. "Shut the fuck up."
And Tenten listens, because she never quite washed away the guilt of Jin.