(timeline: takes place right after Chapter 13, "Twisted in the sand dunes")
A reflection of herself:
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In what feels like an eternity, Sakura dashes across woodland terrain, one hand cradled over the side of her head, moving northeast on near autopilot.
The sunlight burns her eyes, the scent of oak sharp and stinging her nose. Too loud, too quiet - is that the sound of her footsteps or her heartbeat? - the static in her ears - is it real? - can she hear anything at all?
Ankles twisting, Sakura digs her heels into damp soil, barely avoiding a sudden trip headfirst into a clear stream of water.
She grits her teeth and falls slowly to her knees. Following instinct over thought, she dips her entire head into the river, the cold water stinging her skin, forcing a short breath to bubble to the surface.
Her hold over her chakra tightens, careful to only numb the pain - the last thing she needs is to rebuild cells on guess alone.
Filtering oxygen through her mouth, she rummages blindly through the medical pack by her side, methodically unpacking every tool.
Bandages, disinfectant, she lists in her head, gingerly washing off as much blood as she can from the wound. I might need stitches, might need to rebuild cartilage if it's really bad.
Exhaling again, she clenches her fists tight, almost wishing the weight on her eyes could last forever.
But time waits for no one, and it certainly does not wait for Haruno Sakura. Heart in her throat, she rises from the water, the cold air bringing shivers down her back.
Water droplets trickle down her throat and vest, mixing with her own blood, strands of hair sticking to the side of her face.
Fingers clutching a spare towel, Sakura hesitates.
What if, her treacherous mind thinks, it isn't a simple wound she can fix? What if the cartilage is completely torn through? What if she's stuck without half an ear - she'd lose her balance, her sense of timing, her instincts -
All too familiar with this line of thinking, Sakura straightens her back and pushes down the sudden nausea.
If Kakashi-sensei can live half his life without an eye, she thinks, swallowing, then I can do the same.
Gently patting the side of her head dry, she deftly ignores the voice that wails it isn't the same.
And then, without thinking, without giving herself time to think, she leans into the river, peering into the reflection shining back, shifting her head and pulling her hair back -
(Distanly, she hears a muffled splash).
It takes far too long - until black spots enter her vision - until the ripples in the water nearly fade away - until her towel floats completely from sight - for Sakura to realize that she isn't breathing.
Like a whirlpool crashing into shore, she inhales sharply, nearly choking on air, eyes watering but not wavering from her completely untouched, unwounded ear.
"What," she croaks out, fingers blindly reaching out towards the reflection. "What the hell?"
Not daring to leave it to chance, Sakura shatters the settling image to scoop up more water, frantically, thoroughly cleaning the side of her head.
Her hands clumsily grab several bandages and, drying her ear completely, she finds the same, horrific image, utterly unchanged. Clenching her teeth, she releases her grip on the numbing chakra, only to come to the sudden, terrifying conclusion that she isn't in any pain at all.
(She has no recollection of rebuilding the cartilage in her ear, has no memory of staunching the blood, of diagnosing what she needs to fix - ).
Sakura reaches out, hesitantly bringing a hand to her head, fingers grazing over soft, tender, completely new skin.
This has happened before, she realizes, a sudden terror seizing her lungs at how familiar this outcome feels.
(How many times has she found a wound gone before she could even get to it?)
The nausea returns as an overwhelming sensation overtakes her. Desperately pulling down her mask, she leans to the side and lets out what little she had eaten in the morning.
She remains there, dry heaving over patches of rough grass, throat burning and eyes watering, left till the lowering sun begins to dry her stiff clothes.
Her mind drowns under the scraps of her memories. How far? How long?
She comes to a mind numbing blank.
Something's changed, the thought wraps itself tightly around her chest. Something's changed and I don't know how far it goes.
(Does the change come from her arrival to the past, or is this a natural circumstance of genetics? If even torn cartilage can be healed without thought, could she - )
Almost unwillingly, Sakura stares down at her arm, not daring to finish her thoughts.
Before she can blink, before she can even consider her options, she pulls out a kunai and slashes it down her entire forearm.
A deep line of gleaming red rises above her skin, a dark hue underneath the setting sun.
Her eyes remain trained on the wound, all of her senses working maniacally together: the sound of her breaths, the scent of moss, the warmth of her blood trickling down to her finger tips.
And though her chakra keeps still, in less than half an hour, Sakura finds herself with a completely intact arm, the skin reforming together before her very eyes.
She drags her body back to the waterbank and washes the blood off her arm. The harsh ripples force her to look once again into an unfamiliar image - the near white hair on her head, the mask under her chin, the intact ear she had no hand in healing -
Sakura stares unblinkingly into the river stream.
I, she thinks, swallowing dryly, don't recognize myself at all.
(What does it mean, when Haruno Sakura might not be Haruno Sakura any more?)
Sakura remains still, knee deep in mud, medical tools strewn around her, her reflection dying away.
Night falls over the horizon. Crickets chirp in the distance and before long, a single frog bounces onto shore, appearing suddenly from a patch of tall grass. It croaks once, twice, before bounding into the water and disappearing from sight.
Sakura blinks. The rippling water underneath shifting into sudden, startling clarity.
"Huh," she breathes out. The sound nearly clinging to her throat, she thinks back to the boy who used to hold the weight on his shoulders. "How did you do it?"
All those years, she thinks, all by yourself.
How did you do it, Naruto?
The silence stretches, longer and longer, until all too suddenly, the sun once again rises above the sky.
On wobbly legs, Sakura stands, wincing at her stiff muscles and sore back. Mechanically, she washes her face, fingers still lingering on her ear, until they lower once again to brush the water's surface.
"I need answers," she eventually says, her voice cracking and rusty. Clearing her throat, she briefly touches her unfamiliar image, the water cool against her fingertips and rippling under the contact. "That's what you would've done, right?"
In that morning silence, she considers her options.
Though her resources are limited, Sakura imagines that she can always start off by figuring out what in the ever loving fuck is up with her body.
I need a closer look at my cells, she considers, shoulders nearly relaxing at the comfort of something she is all too familiar with. But how?
Meticulously packing away her unused supplies, Sakura hangs her pack over her shoulders and concludes that the pickings are rather slim.
I don't think anyone was really focused on genetic analysis during the war, she thinks, sending a wave of chakra through her sore muscles. The only places I can think of that might have good enough labs are...
She pauses, already dreading her answer.
"Orochimaru's hideouts," she exhales, stomach rolling at the mere suggestion. "Or - "
Sakura pinches the bridge of her nose and looks up to the brightening heavens above, before letting out a heavy, defeated sigh.
"Or, Konohagakure."
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THIS IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF A DOUBLE UPDATE. PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND.