Disclaimer: i do not own Naruto or any of its characters, just the plot. and the OC's.
Title: Bearing an Hourglass
Language:English
Form:Multi-Chaptered
Genre:Romance/Adventue
Rating:T
Pairing: Sakura Haruno/Sasuke Uchiha, Kushina Uzumaki/Minato Namikaze
Summary: What would you do if you found out you are one of the only two people exclusively chosen to trade your existing time line for another one to fix past mistakes, so that the entire fate of the ninja word effectively lies on your shoulders in just a single minute? That's what Sakura and Sasuke have to figure out.
Note: Updated in just one month! A record! Longer than last chapter, but still shorter than the others. Decent, I would say. This was almost filler-like, but I just want to build on relation stuff before getting to the nitty-gritty of it. Don't worry though, next chapter is the chunnin exams, which means action, and after that, a bunch of time-skips for the proper action. As always, tell me what you guys think in the reviews and don't forget to fave/follow!
Bearing an Hourglass
by fourthfireshadow
Act II
Chapter 11-Meetings and Epiphanies
"Mikito-sama. Do you require any assistance?"
"How many times do I have to tell you, Hana-san? Just Mikoto, please." The little Uchiha scowled slightly before it softened to a small smile as she turned back to the object before her, "but no, thank you for offering."
She looked at the lacquered, wooden bento in front of her, the food consisting of rice, umeboshi, yakitori, tomato onigiri and egg made painstakingly by her. Satisfied by the swirls of heat rising off of it and the unmistakable scent of home-cooked food, Mikoto brought down the lid, clicking it closed. Fingering the satin material by her side, she carefully wrapped the bento, making sure the edges were crisp, creases were neat and sharp and that the Uchiha insignia meticulously sewn on the navy cloth was facing upwards.
It was a little gaudy and definitely looked like the big deal it supposedly may not be, but to Mikoto, it was the result of her slaving away the day in the kitchen—a product of her hard work and dedication. Handling it carefully, she turned to Hana, a satisfied smile on her calm face.
"Hana-san! I'll be off to give this to my father."
"Of course, Mikoto-sama."
At that, the girl quickly slipped on her nin-sandals and set on a lazy pace to the Uchiha Police Force building where her father worked. As the head of the clan, he was the highest ranking officer of the establishment, and as the Chief Officer, he usually if not always skipped lunch. Well, not today. She knew how much her father enjoyed these bentos that she made whenever she felt a fancy to, and as luck would have it, she'd felt the need to today.
She had to make it quick though, since she had to meet her team soon. Their sensei really was packing on the extra training, Mikoto thought with slight annoyance. And not only that, Kaede somehow got into his head that they were eternal rivals and kept on declaring that he'd never lose to an Uchiha after the last C-rank they completed where she had taken down three ninja's that had targeted their client while he had only managed to fell one. Needless to say, their teamwork had certainly taken a huge dip after that disaster. And Shibi was just always quiet, so she couldn't really say whether he agreed or was simply disinterested. If it continued to be this way, there probably wouldn't be any love lost if the team ultimately decides to disband after making Chuunin.
She really didn't have any luck when it had come to team assignments.
As Mikoto spied the huge Uchiha insignia, she walked quicker to towards the entrance, partly to give the bento to her father and see the look of surprise on his face and partly to escape the curious gazes of her clansmen she was at the receiving end of; the daughter of the clan head wasn't really a regular visitor, so the curiosity wasn't that surprising, but it was still uncomfortable.
The relief from the humidity was quick and welcomed as she stepped into the lobby, before she walked to the crabby receptionist that was usually one of the ones that always looked at her negatively. Whether it was contempt or toxic envy, she really couldn't be sure.
"Mai-san, I'm looking for my father. Could you please tell me if he's in his office or if he's currently indisposed in force matters?" she asked politely, but she held the woman's blank gaze unflinchingly and with quiet poise.
As a female heir to the revered Uchiha clan ad more importantly than that, a male dominated clan, she had faced the adverse reactions to her gender more than once—the slights, the doubts and spiteful words. However, Mikoto was more mature than most her age and even more than some way older, and as such, she knew that she'd have to face even more antagonistic reasoning in her life. But, she also knew of her worth; she had the purest of Uchiha blood running through her veins, and no one could argue to be more Uchiha than her. She was clan heir. She held more power in her little pinkie than most people in this clan hold in their palms. Of course, sometimes, with looks of contempt thrown at her for no other reason than the fact that she was female, she'd forget about all this power, all this worth; she was only a thirteen year old girl at the end of everything after all, but she'd learnt in the years that if she dealt with everything with the poise and calm that was inbred in her, no one could touch her.
Least of all this crabby woman.
"…the chief is still in his office." Other than a slight narrowing of her eyes and the avoidance of uttering her name with the appropriate respect given to a clan heir, the lady behaved.
One step at a time, and all that.
Knowing this was progress, however slight and insignificant, Mikoto inclined her head slightly before walking the path she knew by heart to her father's office. Stopping in front of the cherry wood door with the gold plated plaque that read Masahi Uchiha—Chief Officer in bold block print, she knocked thrice, knowing her father must've already sensed her presence from the moment she entered the building.
"Enter."
At that, she turned the knob and entered quietly, knowing how much her father hated loud noises. Seeing his weary old face, however, all the consideration quickly vanished as she ran to his readily open arms with a spring in her steps, closing her eyes at the familiar warmth. She was careful, however, to not jostle the bento too much, and so she withdrew first, instead flashing a blinding smile at him, one the man returned with much less dazzle, but equal sincerity.
"Father, I brought lunch for you." Mikoto stated, placing the box on his table with a slight flourish. She wasn't exactly showing off the beautifully wrapped bento, per say, but she did work really hard at it, and she knew that sometimes it was the smallest of gestures that make the loudest of declarations.
And judging by the quirk of his lips, she knew her father was also aware of this.
"Thank you, Mikoto. Though, what's the special occasion?" he asked, already untying the knot of the cloth and opening the wooden bento.
She shrugged, pleased that her father was already opening it. "No reason. I had free time."
"Well then, I'm glad you were able to fit this in your busy schedule." He said with a wry smirk, looking at his daughter with mock indignation.
Letting out a small laugh at that, the girl looked at her father properly since entering his office, which made her smile melt away sluggishly. Masahi was once a very handsome man; she could tell since his deep, narrow eyes, the straight nose and pale as snow skin all hinted at this. However, nature had done its ritualistic work on his looks, with those sharp eyes now coloured with tiredness and the skin now marked with wrinkles and liver spots. Now, he didn't look like an Uchiha poster pretty boy of his past, but like a man with power but also burdens. Truthfully however, she knew none of her friends' parents looked as old as this not just because most of them had never held such a post, but also because they were younger. She was aware that she was a late baby, conceived when her parents were well into their forties, and as such, they looked it. However, even though they were old, it didn't really warrant this sight. Somehow, her father looked like he'd aged a decade since the last time she'd seen him. Which was just yesterday.
New news of the war must've reached the village, she realized belatedly. A frown replaced the previous smile immediately.
"Do you need me to run any errands before I take my leave, father?" she asked, slight desperation playing with her words. Suddenly, she felt the need to unload some of the stress on her father's shoulders—anything to make him look at least one year younger. Mikoto realized slowly, however, that she really couldn't be of much help—how could she, a mere genin, help the chief of the police department? She had no qualifications of any sort, and she wasn't a part of the police force. However, once she makes Chuunin, she'd be able to help her father more. This was the fuel she needed.
She'll work through the years in his appearance, step by step.
Her father must've seen something in her expression—the desperation, the determination—because the pensive look on his face vanished, instead replaced by a sad sort of smile.
"…Actually, there is one thing you could do for me." He began, rifling through the folders on his desk.
"What is it?" she tried hard to hide the curiosity on her face as he handed her a thin manila folder, but she suspected she failed, seeing the amusement on her father's face.
"Could you just give this folder to Fugaku Uchiha? He should be in the Police training grounds at the moment, mentoring the new recruits if I'm not mistaken."
"..Fugaku?" she'd heard of him; in fact, she was sure the whole clan knew who that man was. He was surely making a name for himself in this ongoing war, that's for sure. His prowess was becoming renowned. However, she had never met him face to face, which was slightly odd since she was sure he was one of her father's most prized soldiers, as well as with her own self being clan heir, it was her supposed duty to have met everyone in the clan.
Nonetheless, getting to meet him now, no matter how insignificant the reason was making her feel nervous as anything. He was huge in the clan, and was clearly a powerful kin. She knew what she was feeling was ridiculous. If anything; he should be the one to be nervous at meeting her, the clan heir. Not that he knew what was going to happen. And also, she was also just a mere genin. And thirteen years old at that.
"Is that alright?"
Shaking herself off of those thoughts, she bowed at her father in acceptance. "I'll be leaving then, father."
"Hn. Good luck on team training." He replied with amusement at the sudden depressed sigh from his daughter as she left.
Navigating to the training grounds was easy, but Mikoto could feel the trepidation building in her with every step forward. Kami, she just knew she was going to embarrass herself in front of this person her father always spoke so highly of. As the humidity and the slightest trace of ozone filled her nostrils, her footsteps faltered for a second before continuing, albeit a bit more slower than before. She could feel the plastic sheet of the file being slightly crushed under her palms and instantly loosened her grip, releasing a deep breath along with it. Why was she getting worked up? She has technically a higher standing than him in the clan, at least. She shouldn't be intimidated at all.
Yeah, right.
Because all this was due to intimidation. Because who wouldn't be intimidated by the person who their father sung praises for? This unseen entity who was making everyone wish he was the one to lead the clan instead of her. If anything, she should be feeling angry and indignant. But Mikoto wasn't a girl like that, and she had never felt any sort of anger at him either, because if she did, then she was allowing herself to be manipulated by the old gossip mill, while not really giving this person a chance.
Mind somewhat assured, she stepped past the gate to the grounds, instantly spotting three figures. She immediately recognized Yashiro-san—a jounin who had the cutest little kid ever—and surprisingly, her batch mate, Sasuke. She truly didn't know he had tried out for the police force and at such a young age too. Not that it was too surprising—Sasuke's own skills were making quite the buzz in the clan after all. But still.
Shifting her gaze, it at last fell on the man that had been in her mind for the past few minutes. Or perhaps boy would've been the correct term, seeing his visage.
He was young.
Or at least, younger than what she'd imagined. She'd thought of the Wicked Eye Fugaku to at least be well into his twenties, but here he was, looking to only be in his late teens. He was a few years older than her for sure, but only few. It was surprising.
He was also really tall.
"…Excuse me? I'm sorry for interrupting training." She began, but the words abruptly died down when he turned his gaze onto her at her voice.
He was also surprisingly handsome.
"…Mikoto-san."
It, again, wasn't surprising that Fugaku knew her name, but the way he said it was surprisingly distracting, all low and quiet and factual and intense. And now she could feel the others eyes boring into her head; particularly from one of them, like he was trying to make her burst into flames. Breaking eye contact from the intimidating man-boy, she was surprised that the prickly gaze was from Sasuke, the boy who usually avoided her like some sort of plague most of the time. Actually, thinking over her previous assumption, the stare wasn't particularly like he wanted her to burst into flames, but more like he wanted himself to burst into flames.
He really was an odd boy.
Looking away from him, she refocused on the man before her. Her gaze fell on his frown and felt herself frown in response. Did he always look so unimpressed? Was his face set this way? Nevertheless, she composed herself impressively as she stared back, pushing the folder in her hands forward.
"Fugaku-san. My father wanted me to deliver this to you." Mikoto stated, before she winced internally. Maybe the word deliver shouldn't have been used—it was setting herself up for derogatory comments and if she'd used such a line to the clan elders or some such people, such a line while running a similar errand would've been construed by them as an admission of weakness, a derivative of her gender. As was their backward-ass thinking, after all, and as such, she always had to keep her speech and her chosen words in mind, and weave a sentence that established her title no matter what her duty as well as not let herself be open to any kinds of attack—in this case, the attack being of the mental kind; words, ironically enough that could chip away at her withering self-esteem like a knife running through hot butter until she was but a bumbling mess of a clan heir, much less ninja, that wouldn't be able to even speak straight. For a clan that spoke very less, the words that they do utter are utterly relentless. She knew that well.
And seeing the slight smirk on Fugaku's face as he took the proffered file, she couldn't help but twitch a bit. He must've caught onto the word as well, like all Uchihas simply scanning for mistakes in others, like leeches. There would be no way it would've been something else.
Jackass.
"Hn." He muttered in—gratitude? Farewell? Dismissal? She would never know, and turned away, walking to the other end of the clearing, already absorbed into whatever was in that folder. Mikoto could feel the ire growing in the pit of her stomach at her curt dismissal—she was going to take that stupid grunt as a dismissal—and narrowed her eyes at the back of the high ranking officer.
Not even a nod? She was the clan heir, dammit, she deserved at least some respect, didn't she? How rude could one get?
How Uchiha could one get?
Restraining herself from rolling her eyes childishly, she turned to the two people who she finally registered where still there. Yashiro was looking at her with a slight sympathetic smile, reassuring her that Fugaku's personality was simply naturally just like a prickly asshole's and that it didn't particularly have much to do with her. Smiling back at the kind-hearted jounin, Mikoto looked at the other person in the clearing, her smile immediately faltering at the sight of him.
Sasuke was completely rigid, his expression set into one of perpetual blankness as he looked at her. actually, it looked as if he was looking through her, and she would've suspected the he was all zoned out and catatonic if not for the slight tightening around his eyes and the constriction of his muscles in the corner of his lips. Truthfully speaking, she could feel the budding worry replacing the previous ire at how the boy's lips looked like it had no blood in them with how hard he was pressing them together, and the way his pupils were lightly fluttering around, as if he was seeing a lot of things at one, close to overloading. Of course, she didn't speak any of this out loud—the last thing a member of her clan needed was an askance of health in front of stronger opponents, she couldn't help but think sarcastically.
Instead, Mikoto simply inclined her head in their direction in parting.
Poor guy, really; to have to work with that person most days.
.
.
.
Staring at the form in his hand, Minato's brows furrowed even more than before, his eyes roving over the words printed on the paper in a no nonsense font. He had already read the fine print back to front from the moment he had gotten it in his grasp a week before, but now, the prospect of participating in these exams—exams that determined whether he had the mental stability and the physical capabilities to be a Chuunin, the next rank a shinobi can acquire; which means more responsibilities, more missions, more bloodshed—was finally kicking in.
And, realistically speaking, Minato knew there wasn't much doubt in his passing. It wasn't a thought born from arrogance, but from the reluctant understanding that the inevitable climax of the Second Shinobi War was fast approaching and for that, Konoha was going to need all the military support it could get. Truthfully speaking, he knew in reality he should instead be grateful that the opportunity for promotion of rank came in so late and not when his age was still in the single digits, but now that the time to face it has finally come, the blond couldn't help but think of all the things he'd be sacrificing. It was a purely selfish thought and he was completely aware of it; selfish towards the village—because didn't he know that he was essentially signing up to serve the hidden village as only a tool when he entered the ninja academy for the first time?—but more importantly, it was selfish towards his team. Minato knew only three man teams were allowed to enter, and if he backed out of this, he was effectively pulling out the entire team as well.
But then, deep deep down, he knew in the end, he wouldn't feel too guilty for it, because he was confident that all of them would pass with flying colours if they entered, and as such, would be drafted for the war at the earliest convenience. Not entering would keep all of them from the horrors of war for a bit longer. He knew they'd all have to face it sooner rather than later, but he wanted to buy some more time.
Doing this would be going against Jiraiya-sensei's wish. It would be against Sakura and Hitoshi's wish as well, but he would rather bear the thought of Sakura's painful understanding and Hitoshi's judgemental scoffs and sneers than set sight on their spilt blood. But then, he couldn't go on as a proud shinobi of the Leaf with such thinking, now could he? Because deep deep deep down, he wanted to do whatever he could to cinch Konoha's victory, no matter how small his and his team's part in it was.
Confused with the extremely warring thoughts clashing in his head and feeling suffocated in the living room, the boy left the now crumpled entrance form on his couch and ran to the coat hanger to pull at his jacket.
"Okaa-san, I'm leaving for a bit! I'll be back for dinner!"
The slam of the front door punctuated the end of his announcement as he walked to the streets in hurried footsteps. As fresh air entered his system, he could feel his mind loosening up a bit as well.
"Hey! Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows!"
The call snapped him from his thoughts and as he looked around, the blond registered where his feet had unknowingly taken him.
The academy training grounds looked exactly the same, Minato mused with slight nostalgia, as did the old oak tree the four of them used to sit under almost always. It was unofficially their spot. The wistfulness only strengthened when he truly looked at the girl who had called out him sitting on the swing under the tree. The bright red easily brought a small smile on his face as he walked towards Kushina slowly. The blond was loathed to admit it, but being put into different teams had slowly but surely put some distance into the group, and he acknowledged the fact that he hadn't really seen the redhead or even Sasuke a lot after being assigned to team ten.
Seeing that bright grin on the girl's face brought about sharp pangs of regret, but it didn't take away from the fact that his eyes had lit up. Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, he had even missed that horrid title she'd assigned him.
"Although, right now you look more like Mr. Dark clouds and Stormy. What's eating you?" Kushina asked, gripping the bars of the swing loosely as she looked up at the blond boy.
Minato didn't say anything for a while, but his bright smile melted until it was replaced by a neutral line, slowing to a stop near the swing and simply looked at the entrance of the academy with an unreadable look in his blue eyes. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, pensive.
"…Do you sometimes wish time would slow down, sometimes?"
The redhead blinked twice in slight bewilderment at the question, but at how he was still avoiding looking directly at her, she decided to answer now and probe later and shrugged. To be honest, questions like these weren't out of the norm when it comes to this boy; one of the first things one comes to know from being friends with him is that he's a highly reflective individual that usually questions life at the oddest of times. She was used to it. She even missed it.
"Not really. Not at all, actually."
At that, he finally turned, a question glinting apparently in his eyes, but no words escaped his mouth.
"I know most people would want that; and maybe sometimes I'd want that too. It's a good wish and all, but…I'd rather live in the moment and take whatever comes my way." She pursed her lips in thought, a terribly serious expression crossing her face that it gave Minato pause.
"…Wishing time would slow down means that you want to catch up with time. I'd instead like to think of myself as all caught up and ready to go and even to just stay one step ahead of it. Does that make sense?" Kushina questioned lightly, kicking her feet lightly on the ground to push off the ground.
Azure eyes widened at the answer before narrowing in thought. As he thought more of her surprisingly thought out answer, a smile tugged at his lips, because thought out or not, it was definitely a Kushina answer. She always was larger than life anyway.
"…Aa. It does." He smiled wider, his brows easing out from the furrow it was in. Minato turned to look at her in gratitude, because unknowingly or not, she had helped him, but he soon found himself distracted by the shine of the sunlight glinting off of the ridiculously long strands of red hair as the breeze moved the tresses. It was completely impractical for a ninja, the blond couldn't help but ponder blankly, and also highly distracting.
"You know, this scene is familiar." She said with a soft smile, breaking the silence.
"…It is, isn't it?" he retorted lightly as he thought of a scene from more than two years ago with both of them in the same position—her on the swing with tears shimmering in her wide eyes and him in front of her, blushing and helpless. However—
"I'm glad I was the one helping you this time and not the other way around. Twice would've been embarrassing, dattebane." She teased, looking at him through her glinting hair. "…I did help, right? You don't look like that grumpy bastard anymore, anyway."
Slowly but surely, Minato could feel that tell-tale heat creeping up high on his cheeks, a light dusting of rose apparent on his alabaster skin as he looked at the oblivious girl with a bashful gaze and a slim grin.
"Yeah. Yeah, you did."
Soon, this spot, to Minato, would be synonymous to the redheaded Uzumaki.
.
.
.
"—and then, she was glaring at him, while he didn't care at all."
Sakura supposed she was restraining that tendril of amusement prodding at the muscles of her face relatively well, seeing as Sasuke wasn't glaring a hole into her head. Well, that, or that he was still too absorbed in his thoughts, which was in retrospect the apt reason seeing as he really couldn't stop that note of trauma out of his voice, and nor could she effectively clamp down the twitching of her lips.
But then the twitching mellowed out to a small, soft smile at the blankness in his onyx eyes and she shifted her own gaze away, the smile now tainted with slight worry. Because Sakura knew, no matter how hilarious the whole situation may seem on the surface, it was a lot more complicated once you get past that deceptive layer of film. Sasuke had seen his past parents at the same spot together; essentially, he had seen his original parents, the ones he fought—and was still fighting—so hard for; he had witnessed their first meeting, no matter how surprisingly it went. He was seeing history in the making, his history really. It must've been mind-boggling, hard to witness, so Meta.
And they were all kids at the moment, too! Not the parents he revered and feared and respected and doubted, but still just on the way there. She knew the struggle he had—or at least how much ever he deemed to show through the small cracks in his façade here and there to her, of how much the presence of Mikoto had affected him, of how mentoring under Fugaku in this era affected him, of how seeing them, young or not, had effectively made all those bloody red memories rush back with the force of blistering, rushing lava. It such an ill-fated twist of destiny that when she first heard of it, Sakura earnestly wondered if Hagoromo was playing with their lives more than what he'd already done with them.
Throughout the whole time he was talking, Sakura couldn't help but be thankful that she hadn't run into her original parents yet, and if she had her way, she'd never have to. It was really a wonder how Sasuke was still functioning with all the shit he had to go through regularly, became she didn't think she could ever do it.
Seeing her real parents and not being their daughter, especially now that she essentially had no family, was going to be it for her, she knew. Compressing those particular memories would only work for so long, she knew. It wasn't really probable, since they were in the civilian sector and she rarely went there.
The pinkette also knew that she would never get to know the full extremity of his situation, not now and not even if he ever told her, because his life story was just something she could never even hope to touch, and seeing the confusion and the pain and the bewilderment and the demons first hand, she didn't think she ever wanted to. It used to hurt Sakura before, how she would never reach a stage when she could finally look Sasuke in the eye and show him how much she understands, to share a bond that was birthed through mutual tragedy, to realize she could never come between Naruto and Sasuke, because that was a bond forged through understanding.
No, she could never be to him what Naruto was to him, not in that sense. And now, she, for the first time, thought herself lucky to not have that sort of a bond with him.
She didn't wish to touch his life story; no, one day, she wanted to be strong enough to dare to encompass it in her hands.
"…It looks like your mom's going to kick his ass one day if he's not careful, to be honest." Sakura said casually, leaning back on the grass with her arms.
After a painfully still moment, Sasuke snorted slightly at that, the thought stopping his whirlwind of thoughts as he looked at clumps of grass he had ripped out roughly sticking in between the crevices of his fingers and the smudges of dirt on the pale skin of his palm, and a corner of his lips lifted a little, because he had never truly seen the side of his mother that he'd witnessed today, and somehow now, he could see an image vaguely taking shape in his head.
Looking at the sudden moment of amusement that had replaced the tense one just a moment prior, Sakura only reaffirmed her thoughts once more.
Gently, he let his grip on the grass go.
Naruto may have brought him back, but she would do the rest.
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