The bark was rough against Hitomi's back as she kept pushing against it, half sure that some splinters were trying to bury themselves through her black top and into her skin
She didn't care, though, as she pushed a fist in her mouth, hoping that the Genjutsu hiding her from sight also masked the sounds she was making. She couldn't stop crying; fat tears were falling down her cheeks and choking her—she knew she looked pathetic, snot, blood and tears mixing on her face and dripping down on her top.
Sensei was dead.
His chest looked like it had exploded inward, and his eyes were glazed and staring. There was so much blood.
Hitomi had never been more thankful for her bloodline, it was the only reason she and her teammates were still alive. When sensei had fallen and Aoi and Sora had been hurt, her panic and fear casted a Genjutsu to protect them.
The enemy couldn't break her Genjutsu, and their green eyes burnt with bloodlust and anger at being denied more prey. They left with a swirl of bone white hair.
Aoi was groaning, his face streaked with blood and sweat as Sora tightly wrapped that stump that had been his left forearm. His right hand was in her free hand, blunt nails digging in and drawing blood.
Sora looked up at her, his brown eyes worried as they meet her scared violet with black comma eyes.
"I can't do much more," Sora told her in a hush tone, frustration clear on his face as he brushed some of his dark hair out of his eyes having lost his headband in the rush of battle. "I'm not Kaa-san. I don't know enough and I don't have enough chakra."
She messily wiped her face mostly clean with her sleeve, wishing Kaa-san was here to caress their wounds and cries with her gentle touches, soothing chakra and kind green eyes.
"We need to get back to Konoha." She spoke what she knew was also on Sora's mind, his face tightened as he looked down at Aoi.
"Can you keep the Genjutsu up?" Sora asked her as he started to move Aoi, making him cry out.
Hitomi wanted to block her ears and close her eyes, but she couldn't. She had to be strong for her boys, her brothers and help them get back home to Kaa-san. She was their only defence against the enemy now.
So she swallowed thickly and nodded.
It didn't matter that she had never done something like that before. They needed her and she couldn't fail them.
Sora carried Aoi—Aoi swiftly blacking out with pain—on his back, ignoring the blood soaking the bandages wrapped around his chest that must hurt him greatly. Hitomi kept focused on the Genjutsu as they began their long journey home.
Takara held Hitomi as the eight-year-old slept restlessly, a pale hand fisting her top, and kept her gaze fixed on the two beds that held two of her sons.
Aoi's small body was wracked with fever. Infection had set in during the days it took them to travel back to Konoha. They had to remove more of his arm to save the rest of his body. He looked so small tucked in bed, his dark blue-green hair sticking to his pale face.
Sora's ribs had been broken and almost pierced his lungs. He had been suffering from blood loss and a slight infection, wavering on his feet when he reached the gate—only then did he let himself pass out. He would have an easier time healing than Aoi, and he didn't look as small—Sora had always been tall for a nine year old.
It had taken them almost two weeks to make their way home, they had gotten so thin in such a short amount of time.
When they were allowed back home, and on their way to recovery then Takara was going to request Hashirama let her out on the battlefield. It seemed the Kaguya clan would be short a few members in the near future.
Kurama thought Uchiha Izuna was an idiot—an arrogant idiot at that. He foolishly believed that he had tamed him and barely used the sharingan on him anymore.
Part of Kurama was amused by the pitiful mortal who believed he had tamed the great Kyuubi, but mostly he was insulted. How could he think a mortal like him could tame the great and fearsome Kyuubi?
But at least the Uchiha was giving him some amusement—and freedom to find her.
The lull of the sharingan barely ensnared his mind before Izuna began to order him to find what was attacking the old Uchiha stronghold that the Kaguya clan were staying in and kill them.
He could feel his dark lips pulling up in a dark grin.
Seems like something she would have a hand in.
He was right.
He could feel her chakra tightly controlled but furious surrounding the burning and dissolving stronghold; the smell of blood was thick in the air, the smell of those slugs of hers and their acid stuck in his nose and he could smell death. The sweet and sickly smell was heavy in the air.
A massacre—it wasn't her first and most likely wouldn't be her last.
He grimaced as his body shifted and reformed smaller—a more human shape—before he entered the stronghold, pausing briefly to take the trousers of the corpse laying broken by the door.
He didn't think she would be happy with him appearing naked despite the fact she had seen it before—Naruto's body was the only human male body that he knew everything about. He knew how the muscles pulled under the skin, how fast it could run, and how much weight it could lift easily and he was used to it. It was as much his as it was Naruto's.
He found her in the main hall, surrounded by the broken bodies of the Kaguya, a pile of bloody blades made of bone was next to her as parts of her body glowed green and healed.
Her head was tilted back and her eyes closed. He knew it was her, and yet it wasn't her at the same time. Grey strands mixed between pale pink, and wrinkles and creases were forming on her face. She seemed so old in that moment.
"Izuna-san sent you to kill me, huh?" She asked, her eyes still closed. "I hope you don't mind its only one person to kill, Kyuubi."
He was silent for a brief moment before he padded forward on bare feet, ignoring the sticky blood pools and stepping over pale limbs.
"You don't call me Kyuubi." He stated, his voice a rumble even in a human chest.
She looked at him than—green eyes older and colder than when he last remembers them—her expression a mixture of disbelief, grief and relief.
Kurama stood quiet as her gaze traced the whisker marks on golden cheeks, golden skin covering a muscular frame. It was only the dark red eyes and the fiery red hair that separated Kurama and Naruto.
"It's not nice to surprise a woman with the face of a dead lover." She told him, head tilted back again.
"There's still people alive." He could feel the fearful chakra hidden deeper in the stronghold.
"They are children, I'll be taking them back to Konoha."
"Still reaching for atonement?" He watched her as she ignored him—the only woman who had the balls to scream and order him to get back into Naruto and fix him in the middle of war. "You've gotten old, Sakura."
She glared at him; the same glare she used when Naruto was being stupid and reckless, the same glare she gave when Sasuke was being his silent and broody self, the same glare she gave Sai when he was being rude, and the same glare she gave to Kakashi when he tried to get out of the medics tent before he was fully healed.
"My name is Takara." She told him, before a grimace pulled at her features. "Every mortal gets old Kurama. It's a fact of life."
He scoffed because there was no chance in hell that he was letting her die of old age before Naruto was born again.
When he knelt next to her and placed his hand on her, she stayed silent and watched him. She stayed silent as he pushed his chakra into her body—renewing cells, firming skin and removing grey—until she looked and was ten years younger at least.
Green stayed clashed with dark red as his chakra surged once more.
A hissed breathe through clenched teeth as the sickening scent of burning flesh assaulted their noses.
The seal burning into her skin, scorching down and into her muscles and bones, would stop the Uchiha ever summoning or using him again. Half her torso would be covered in that seal matrix, he would never be a pawn of an Uchiha again.
"I'm staying with you."
She rolled her eyes, but he could see the relief hidden in them.