WARNING: THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER OF A DOUBLE UPDATE. PLEASE GO BACK IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER.
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(timeline: takes place after previous chapter, "A reflection of herself")
Like the one she loved:
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It takes a month to pull the whole thing off.
One month of observing the different patrols around the village borders, testing the strength of the walls, exploring the barrier seals surrounding the perimeter, setting up a cover. Personally speaking, she thinks a month is a pretty fucking impressive record to infiltrate a Hidden Village during war time, but then again, Sakura's already got the upper hand in knowledge and experience.
(Experience in the form of invading only one other village, but really, who's counting?)
At the southwest point of Konohagakure, Sakura pricks a careful finger along the pipes that guard the sewers leading to the village.
"No coverage yet, huh," she says with a curious look, because in the future, the waning perimeter seals covered every part of the borders. Her nose crinkles in disgust at the smell. "Ugh, ew, gross."
Promptly packing up her pitiful camp and grabbing some emergency hair dye, Sakura gives herself another week to get into character, shedding layers of her personality and keeping what may be useful in the future.
The benefits of pale hair allow her to experiment with the dye and easily enough, she's eventually staring at an unfamiliar image of dull, brown hair and piercing green eyes.
(Her eyes are a curse, she thinks wryly. Too bright, too eerie, and far too memorable. But there's not much she can do besides rendering herself blind, because genjutsu is out of the question with the heightened security.)
This is a good thing, she reminds her wandering thoughts. Pink hair is very suspicious and absolutely terrible at disappearing under dye.
Still, she's unable to stop her fingers from lingering against the cracked mirror of a dingy hotel. The girl in the reflection is tragically unfamiliar, but Sakura smiles regardless, because she wants to believe that this is a part of her that's been left unchanged.
All too soon, Sakura approaches the sewers once again, timing her appearance in the early morning, right when the daily patrols would be switching their teams.
For a split second, she hesitates.
(What would Konoha look like, decades before her time? Would it look like anything and everything she's imagined for the past few years?).
"Stop freezing," she mutters to herself, dragging a thin layer of chakra over her body. A wetsuit covers her body, a waterproof backpack over her shoulders. "You're not getting any answers if you do."
Nose scrunching, Sakura takes a deep breath and dives into the river, swimming upstream towards the sewage pipes. She drags her chakra closer to the center of her body, bringing to minimal levels.
A few minutes later, she approaches a set of heavy metal bars, removing a set part that she had cut a week previous. Any other person would have difficulty lifting the metal - for Sakura, it becomes almost too easy.
She reattaches the metal behind her before travelling north.
Years of assisting the Hokage have left Sakura more familiar with Konoha's sewage system than she would have liked. Still, the tunnels are slightly different from her own time, and Sakura suspects this is because of the several invasions Konoha will have to endure.
Taking a short right, Sakura reaches a shallow tunnel and, dragging herself out of the muddy water, pulls herself onto a metal ladder. Slowly, she brings her chakra back into herself, incredibly wary of dispersing it into the air.
Climbing upwards, she counts steadily to sixty (a minute after the Missions Desk opens), before carefully sliding the pothole open. Her head rising from the opening, Sakura quickly slips out of the hole entirely and closes it shut.
Hidden behind a dumpster, she strips off the wetsuit and tucks it underneath. She then pulls out a purse from the backpack and stuffs the outer bag with the wetsuit as well.
Twenty more seconds, she notes, changing into sandals and slapping a medical mask on her face. Already changed into a nondescript outfit of a simple shirt and pants, Sakura walks silently to the end of the alleyway.
Five, four, three, she inhales deeply, two, one -
A steady crowd of people walk past the alleyway and, in her next breath, Sakura joins the group, stepping behind a young family, a small basket in her hands.
"Fresh apples! Get your fresh apples here!"
"Hey, customer! Come and try some of our fish! Freshly drawn from the Land of Water!"
"Produce grown right in our greenhouses! Whatever you need, we have!"
A smile hidden behind her mask, Sakura peers at a local fruit stand, standing beside several older women.
It's nice to see some things never change, she thinks, purchasing a few peaches from the vendor. The dirt path underneath her feet is well-trodden, the smell of smoke and grass and memories, the slightest breeze kicking up dust and gravel.
Sakura blinks rapidly.
She buys several more items and pointedly does not look upwards. Instead, she lingers along the roadside, walking past wooden stalls, the forever green leaves hanging above towering oak trees.
Eventually, she arrives at a nearby local park, where only several children are left to run through the small playground. Sitting down on an old bench, she crosses her legs, arms wrapped around her basket.
A warm breeze passes by her bare arms, the sun's rays rising, filtering through the endless leaves above, brushing against her face.
Quietly, staring at the ground beneath her sandals, she whispers, "I'm home."
And though she expects it, the answering silence leaves something more profound than what she could have ever imagined.
It's strange, Sakura thinks, eyes travelling upward to the mountain far ahead, where three large faces are carved into stone. Something hollow settles into her chest. I'm home and yet…
The crunch of feet stepping over fallen leaves grabs her attention.
Sakura turns her head, to catch sight of a woman, black hair tucked tightly into a bun, a shawl over her shoulders.
"Yuzue?" the woman asks, hesitantly, warily. "Is that you?"
Sakura creases her eyes, rising to a stand and tucking her basket into her arms. "In the flesh, auntie."
The tension in the woman's posture bleeds away, and her green eyes grow alight.
"Oh, yes, good!" she stammers, hands hovering over Sakura until they choose to rest on her elbow instead. "Come along then, let's get you home!"
Sakura lets out a tiny laugh. "Lead the way, please."
They walk sedately together, traversing Konoha's long-winding roads. Though Sakura is familiar with nearly all of them, she takes care to ask about the village regardless.
By the time they reach a certain apartment complex, the woman is relaxed enough to talk about her favorites (strawberry mochi, the tailor shop down the street). The upbeat mood drops, however, the moment they enter a room two floors above.
Closing the door gently behind her, the woman turns around. Meanwhile, Sakura glances around the small apartment, noting how the blinds of every window are closed shut, not a single string of light allowed through.
There is a fragile pause as the woman rests a hand on her other arm. Her eyes glance upwards to meet Sakura's own. "Forgive me, but, is… is it really you?"
Sakura offers a hand. Softly, she asks, "Would you like to check, Sayuri-san?"
Sayuri hesitates, until she raises her head, chin lifting almost defiantly. Her hand reaches out to take Sakura's own, only the slightest of tremors hindering the movement.
Slowly, Sakura closes her grasp and, with her other hand, gently places her fingers on the inner crook of Sayuri's elbow. She sends a steady flow of chakra, enough to send a flash of heat across skin, enough for a covered, red light to glow briefly under fabric.
Releasing a choked gasp, Sayuri slips away from Sakura's hold and collapses to the ground, head trained on the floor. She whispers, almost reverently, "Suzaku-sama."
"Oh my god," Sakura blurts out, breaking the atmosphere. She falls down just as quickly and pulls at Sayuri to no avail. "Who taught you to do that? There's no reason - I swear, you guys, honestly! You all seriously need to calm down!"
Finally, Sayuri raises her head and lets out a watery laugh. "I'm only giving you what you deserve."
"And I'm disagreeing with you!" Sakura shoots back. Rolling her eyes, she pulls again at Sayuri, and successfully brings her back to a stand.
After dusting off Sayuri's clothes, she tries for a smile. "Besides, I should be thankful to you. You're the one helping me out here."
"It's the least I can do," Sayuri says, a widening smile on her still young face. It reminds Sakura all too well that Ido Sayuri is in her early thirties.
"Well, I'm still grateful," Sakura says insistently, before raising her forgotten basket. "I also brought fruits?"
Sayuri smiles again, somewhat indulgently. Accepting the basket, she says, in a quieter voice, "Thank you, Suzaku-sama."
Hearing the weight behind those words, Sakura decides to leave the subject matter and tells her, "You're always welcome, Sayuri-san."
-o-o-o-o-o-
Sakura spends the rest of the day setting up the next part of her plan. With semi-forged papers in her pocket and a change of clothes to better fit in (courtesy of Sayuri herself), she sits on Sayuri's living room floor and brings a glowing hand to her throat.
The process of creating an illness is not a simple reversal of any medical jutsu. Rather, Sakura needs to introduce something new and cultivate it from within.
Her hand travels lower, to her chest, and closing her eyes, Sakura probes her lungs. Inhaling deeply, she coaxes the bacteria within to multiply, slowly encasing her upper lungs and throat.
By mid-morning, Sakura steps out of Sayuri's apartment with a mildly severe case of bronchitis.
"Leaving already?" Sayuri asks, peering curiously out through the door.
Sakura creases her eyes.
"I have," she says hoarsely, only to suddenly cough, her throat incredibly dry. Clearing her throat, she tries again. "I think I may need to see a doctor."
Sayuri's eyes widen and, quick on the uptake, she rises from her seat, "Of course! Do you need me to go with you, Yuzue?"
A hidden smile on her lips, Sakura waves the question away. "You have work, right? I think I can find it on my own."
Sayuri gives a curious yet worried glance. "If you insist."
Sakura sends what she hopes is a reassuring look and waves goodbye. The last thing she needs is for Sayuri to become swept up in whatever may happen later.
She slowly travels down the winding roads, the early morning dissolving into a sudden bustle of activity throughout the streets.
The smell of barbecued pork, of sweet, fresh dango, the sound of laughing children, gossiping mothers, the chirps of morning birds -
Wrapping her arms around herself, Sakura continues down the path to the hospital. The swell of people also means there are more shinobi, relaxed enough to mingle with the crowd.
She tucks her chakra tighter to herself, making sure to leave behind a signature appropriate for a civilian her age.
Sakura walks sedately, extending her travel time by an extra ten minutes, drinking in the sight of something she might never be able to see again. Her feet eventually stop in front of the Konoha Hospital, a weathered building surrounded by neatly trimmed lawns and blue tiled floors.
How nostalgic, Sakura thinks with a smile, gingerly stepping through the glass entrance that had been destroyed during the first invasion.
Though her first instinct is to turn left, following the corridors meant for shinobi and emergency cases, Sakura walks forward instead, to a wide counter that holds several receptionists.
"Hello," an elderly woman greets, a tired smile on her face. "Can I help you?"
Sakura gives a deep bow. "Hello. I have an appointment for a check-up?"
The receptionist's smile deepens as she shuffles through several files. After a few minutes, she pulls out a clipboard and a few documents. "Ah yes, I found you right here. Ido Yuzue?"
"That's right," Sakura says, creasing her eyes. "My auntie was getting a little worried."
"Well, she did the right thing," the receptionist says firmly. "You sound quite awful, dear."
Sakura laughs, though the sound is rather hoarse and strangled. Thirty minutes later, she is left in a room upstairs to wait for a doctor.
Shifting around in her spot, Sakura catalogs the equipment surrounding her, noting the differences in what two decades and a force as magnetic as Senju Tsunade could do. Even the civilian sector of the hospital had not been left untouched.
She'd be horrified by the state of this room, she thinks, lips already quirking upwards. There's a short, heavy clench in her chest before it disappears once again.
Soon after, the door opens to reveal a middle-aged woman, dark hair cropped short and a white coat over her shoulders, along with a seemingly untouched chakra system.
A civilian doctor, Sakura concludes, somewhat satisfied at the outcome. The chances of meeting a medic-nin (and consequently, getting caught), lessened significantly in the civilian sector.
"Ido Yuzue?" the doctor asks, glancing down at the clipboard in her hands.
"That's me," Sakura confirms, raising her hand slightly, and making sure to wince when her voice struggles to come out.
The doctor smiles before approaching closer. "Nice to meet you. I'm Yato Akari, and I'll be seeing what can be done to help you today. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"
"Of course," Sakura creases her eyes. The next few minutes are spent giving several anecdotes of her condition before Yato goes through her own set of tests.
"If you could remove your mask," Yato says eventually, a wooden stick in her hands.
Already prepared for the request and yet still rather devastated, Sakura grits her teeth before painstakingly removing the medical mask. She hurriedly sits on her hands to stop the urge from covering her face again.
Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made, she tries to remind herself, chanting the words in her head. Sacrifices have to be made, sacrifices have to be -
In what feels like forever, Yato finally allows Sakura to put the mask back on.
"Well," Yato then says, marking several things down on her clipboard. In the meantime, Sakura quickly fixes her mask back on her face. "It looks like you have very severe irritation in your throat and some minor issues around your lungs. I would recommend some prescribed medicine and maybe some herbal soothers on the side."
That's a pretty good assessment, all things considered. Sakura creases her eyes, rather pleased to find that the state of the hospital is not as terrible as how Tsunade-shishou had described it.
Yato tears off a piece of paper and hands in to Sakura. "We have a counter downstairs that can match your prescription, but the herbal medicine you'll have to find outside. I recommend the one down the street next to the ramen stand."
"I'll be sure to do that," Sakura promises, the gears in her mind already switching to the next part of her plan. After thanking Yato and tucking her paper away, Sakura heads back downstairs to the pharmaceutical section of the hospital.
In a short matter of time, Sakura accepts a packaged set of pills and, with a smile, asks the pharmacist, "Sorry, could you point me to the nearest bathroom?"
She exits the sector and takes a left as the given directions suggest, but instead of entering the restroom, Sakura continues forward to the closest set of stairs.
Wary of alerting any sensors that may be nearby, she slowly tucks in her chakra, careful of any abrupt motions. By the time her feet reach the lowest floor available in the civilian sector, Sakura is completely undetectable in nearly every sense.
Slipping past the doors to the stairway, she walks by several labs before reaching one at the very end of the hallway.
Sakura pulls at the door handle, utterly unsurprised when it does not budge. A small prick of chakra and with a click, the door opens inward.
(This is a little too easy, she thinks at one point, not particularly surprised by the lax security. It'll take Senju Tsunade and an invasion to really change how important medical clearance would be for the hospital.
Still, Sakura won't chance it by searching the shinobi sector labs either. Not only would the area be entirely unfamiliar, the risks of running into traps or sealed doors are too high to gamble on).
Thankfully, despite the obvious signs of disuse, the hospital hasn't slacked off in keeping the research laboratories constantly spotless.
Sakura rummages through nearby closets and cabinets, all too aware of her pressing time limit. After slapping on gloves and a coat, she fishes out a thin vial of her blood, extracted earlier in the morning.
Reaching the needed, if outdated, equipment, Sakura pauses, her grip on the vial tightening.
They say ignorance is bliss, a traitorous voice whispers in her head. Wouldn't it be easier to not know at all? Wouldn't it be easier to stay as Haruno Sakura?
She squeezes her eyes tight for a second, then two, before opening them again.
"I'll always be Sakura," she whispers almost defiantly, letting her blood fall into a dish. "That's what brought me here, and that's what will make me stay."
It's far too easy to process her DNA, to methodically set up the procedure like one her cases back home, as if it was another project, another experiment.
An hour later, Sakura lifts a slim, transparent case up to the fluorescent light, squinting into the dish.
The sight is almost familiar - a comfort in itself - but a closer look reveals strange movement, and spots of -
Sakura bolts to the nearest microscope, the device not as advanced as something from her own time. A few moments later, she leans closer, taking note of the cells moving slowly, only disrupted by short bursts of erratic movement.
"What the fuck?" she murmurs, moving closer into a certain section and finding strange, white dots sporadically interspersed within.
Sakura straightens to a stand, leaning her weight onto one side.
I've seen this before, she thinks, for once ignoring the falling pit in her stomach. Her mind races across her memories, grasping for that one memory. I've definitely seen this somewhere, but where? -
She freezes at the distant sound of a door slamming shut. Footsteps, multiple footsteps, low chatter, moving in this direction -
Fuck, Sakura allows herself to think, before immediately moving into action. She tucks the dish away and rapidly cleans up the entire lab, stuffing her gloves and coat into her bag.
With a leap, she attaches herself up to the ceiling and, with a wince, transforms herself to blend better into the ceiling.
As soon as I get out of here, I'm going to practice this jutsu until I don't need my fucking hands, she swears, running through the needed handsigns before hanging closer to the ceiling. At that very moment, the door to the lab swings open.
"Huh," a man's voice filters through. "Was someone using this lab?"
"I don't think so," another older man's voice answers. "Why?"
A head pops in, only revealing a head of brown hair, forcing Sakura to tighten her chakra and hold her breath. "The lights are on and the door's unlocked. I think facilities forgot to finish up."
The other man clicks his tongue. "That's the second time this month. I'll have a talk with them."
There is a pause before a hand flicks the lights off and the door closes shut.
Sakura waits in the darkness, unmoving for several more minutes, until she lets out a silent, slow breath. Her feet land on the floor just as quietly and, straining her ears for any more sound, she swiftly slips out of the laboratory.
That was too close, she thinks, nearly racing down the hallway before moving up the stairs. Ducking around the pharmaceutical sector, she bows to the new set of receptionists working at the front counter (she had timed her appointment to catch the end of the previous set's shift) before leaving the hospital entirely.
Letting out a silent exhale, Sakura walks down the street, weaving through the afternoon crowds. Though her feet move steadily forward, the glass dish in her pockets seems to weigh heavier with each step.
The memory of her own DNA, altered in the strangest ways, the pattern familiar yet so far away -
One questioned answered and another dozen pop up, she thinks mournfully, running a hand through her messy, dyed hair.
She lets out a sigh, eyes trained on the dirt floor, stepping past a young family outside an ice cream stall.
It's a nostalgic sight, she acknowledges with a twinge, eyeing the little girl who leaps into the arms of her father. Even in the past, Konoha has the ability to remind her of the things she once had.
In the midst of such thoughts, a continuous circle that struggles to end, Sakura blinks and finds herself in front of an achingly familiar stall.
She pauses.
The subconscious mind is a terrifying thing, she admits, a smile on her lips, all at once assaulted with the heavy scent of broth and smoke. Her stomach grumbles impatiently, reminding her all too well of her own humanity.
It's difficult to remember issues like keeping anonymity when staring at the face of near starvation. The temptation, the nostalgia, and the overwhelming desire for something long passed -
Sakura ducks under the hanging cloth and grabs a seat at Ichiraku Ramen.
-o-o-o-o-o-
"Welcome!" a young man who is undeniably Teuchi calls out, an unrestrained grin on his face.
Sakura dips her head and settles into the far end of the tiny row inside the stall.
"So, young miss," Teuchi wipes his hands with a towel. "What can I get you?"
Sakura smiles, because her order has never changed. "One miso ramen, please? With extra pork."
Teuchi nods, dumping his towel on the counter and heading back to his kitchen. In the meantime, Sakura waits patiently, fiddling with her chopsticks and ignoring the ghosts beside her.
Soon after, a fresh bowl of ramen is placed in front of her, and raising her mask only ever so slightly, she takes her first bite.
The taste is the same. The taste of Ichiraku Ramen from twenty years into the past is exactly the same, and Sakura sniffles, unsure if it's because of the heat or something else.
She slurps up more noodles, more than content to simply bask in this atmosphere, until the cloth behind her rustles once again. Laughter, completely relaxed and eager, reaches her ears.
"Oi, Teuchi! Give me an extra large bowl, will ya?"
Sakura freezes. Her eyes turn before she can even realize, towards a voice that sounds achingly familiar -
But no - her mind unhelpfully provides the very clear differences that start from the woman's face to her long, brilliantly red hair.
The disappointment stings slightly, but Sakura is unable to tear her eyes away, still trained on the incredibly deep, scarlet locks.
Almost unwittingly, she brings a hand to her own braided hair, altered beyond recognition.
The woman, who is undeniably a ninja, gracelessly sits down on a stool before turning her head right at Sakura. She squints her eyes. "Can I help you?"
And Sakura, somehow surprised at getting caught, nevermind her blatant staring, immediately thinks, quick! Apologize and look away!
"I love your hair!" she blurts out instead, very much not apologizing or looking away. "What do you use?"
The woman blinks.
This, Sakura then thinks resignedly, is all because I haven't seen Ino in years.
"Thank you?" the woman's forehead crinkles and she runs a hand easily through her hair. Sakura follows the movement enviously. "I just wash it."
"You just wash it," Sakura repeats, continuing the conversation despite the voice hollering about the dangers of fraternizing with enemy shinobi. The consequence of taking a biju ball to the face is a lot of damaged hair. "You can't be serious!"
The woman laughs, the sound clear and open.
"I'm not joking," Sakura protests, her fingers already trailing after her own dyed hair. "Do you know what I'd do to have my hair back the way it was?"
Very solemnly, Sakura says, "I would do many, many things."
This, for some reason, makes the woman laugh even harder.
"You're an interesting one," the woman then says, happily accepting the bowl of ramen from Teuchi. "What's your name?"
"Ido Yuzue," Sakura answers, giving the name she's spent an entire month practicing with. The name rolls of her tongue almost naturally. "And you should know that hair care is a very important matter."
"Of course it is," the woman says indulgently, doing a swift glance over Sakura's body and likely coming to the conclusion that Sakura is a random citizen.
Scooting over closer, the woman proceeds to inhale her extra large ramen with a speed Sakura has only seen in one other person.
"Oh!" the woman then says, after a minute of concentrated slurpring. "I'm Kushina, by the way! Uzumaki Kushina, 'ttebane!"
It takes every ounce of Sakura's training to remain still, despite the sudden feeling of cold water being dumped across her back.
"It's nice to meet you," she says, self-preservation instincts and a dose of manners kicking in at the very last moment. There is a pause when Kushina raises her hand and immediately, another extra large bowl is placed in front of her.
There's no way, Sakura tries to tell herself, because what are the chances?
Kushina waves away the polite greeting with one hand and tightly grips her half-finished bowl with the other.
"I think we can drop the formalities," Kushina says, sighing contentedly and wiping her mouth with a napkin. She turns back to Sakura with a beam. "Are you from here?"
"Um," Sakura says, as Kushina starts her third bowl. It's a dizzying effect because where does it all go? "I'm visiting my auntie, who lives here."
"Visiting!" Kushina swallows before slapping her empty bowl down onto the counter. "Well, you picked the best place, dattebane! Ichiraku is the best!"
Oh my god, Sakura thinks, eyes glued on this woman, with the same last name, with the same personality, with the same -
Kushina leans forward curiously, a sly smile on her face. "Wait a second. Are you flirting with me?"
OH MY GOD, a part of Sakura shrieks.
"Definitely not," Sakura tries to say, the implication that it looks like she might be hitting on the person who might be Naruto's mom too much to handle.
Then, like lightning striking the ground, the memory of Sakura actually hitting on the person who definitely is Naruto's dad hits her.
After a moment's delay, Sakura corrects herself and says, "Probably not."
Kushina laughs again, a sound so familiar it brings a fresh wave of memories.
"Well, you'll have to try a little harder," she tells Sakura, slapping her lightly on the back. Sakura, in turn, lets out a hacking cough. "I can't even see your face, 'ttebane!"
Kushina points a finger at Sakura's mask, only for a thought to suddenly occur to her. She brings the finger back under her chin. "I also have a boyfriend, I guess."
Sakura rubs her face over the flimsy medical mask. "You guess?"
Kushina shrugs in a slightly alarming manner. Slightly alarming, because the last thing Sakura needs is to inadvertently ruin Naruto's very important birth before it even begins.
"It's just," Sakura pauses, but the words are already out and really, what's another thought in the sea of others she's already given out? Her eyes crease. "You remind me of someone."
"Is that so?" Kushina starts in on another bowl, which only further confirms the sinking feeling in Sakura's stomach.
It's hard to prove the connection between Uzumaki Kushina and Uzumaki Naruto in definite terms, especially when the latter is not due to exist for at least another few years.
But Sakura would be a fool to ignore all the other glaring signs. She's never met Naruto's mother, hasn't seen a passing photo or even a name. All she has is a burning memory of the one she's loved most and the awareness that Naruto's name must have come from somewhere, if he hadn't taken up his father's name.
There is a momentary pause as Kushina settles her bowl down, likely aware of the growing silence. She looks back to Sakura, violet eyes crinkling and a smile on her lips. "What are they like?"
And it is in that smile, warm and kind, expectant and waiting - that answers Sakura's suspicions over anything else.
"Incredibly annoying," she then tells Kushina, very frankly. "He had a way of getting under people's skin without even trying. He was rude, loud, and had so little tact I'm amazed he made it as far as he did."
(She remembers staring at his back, straight and unyielding, a blatant rebellion against anything that would harm the people behind him).
"But," Sakura says, a little quieter. She looks down at her clasped hands. "He never gave up on himself. And he never gave up on the people around him. He wanted to believe in the good of everyone and he didn't let anyone tell him otherwise."
A pale hand covers her own, and Sakura looks up to find something softer in Kushina's smile.
"That's high praise," Kushina says warmly. In a lighter voice, she adds wryly, "And sounds just like me when I was younger. Are you sure he wasn't an Uzumaki?"
Sakura nearly chokes on the laugh suddenly bursting in her throat.
"You know what?" she glances to the side, further out into the streets of Konoha, the center of Naruto's hopes, of his dreams. Turning back, she creases her eyes and allows herself to be Sakura, just for a single moment, before the woman who started it all. "Maybe he was."
(In the following morning, after leaving behind a box of strawberry mochi for Sayuri, Sakura departs for a world outside the gated walls of Konoha.
The early morning air is brittle and crisp, leaving dewdrops on drooping leaves. And underneath the rising sun, Haruno Sakura continues on, still not quite done with herself, and not quite yet done with the world as well.
At the very least, that's what Naruto would have wanted, right?).
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notes!
- canon-wise, as far as I'm aware, Sakura and Kushina have never met (besides that one movie, but let's not count that), while Sakura and Minato have. It's entirely possible Naruto and Sakura may have had a conversation about his parents behind closed doors, but we'll never entirely know for sure.
- also, canon-wise, Ichiraku doesn't expand into a fully seated, large restaurant until after Naruto endorses it in the Epilogue. It remains a single counter stall for a very long time, though it certainly was popular all throughout.
- Konoha is also rather infamous for being embarrassingly easy to infiltrate. The hospital is known for its lax security (i.e., when Gaara, a foreign ninja, randomly entered it to finish Lee off). Despite being aware of this, Sakura still takes her time to make sure no sign of her entrance or exit is made aware to any parties.
In terms of the narrative itself:
- Some of have you made very entertaining guesses on the next direction this fic would take - the topic of Sakura's "supposed" self-healing has been in the works for a very long time. This entire subject hasn't been fully explored yet (and it won't be far a while), but some major things have been revealed to us. Raise your hand if you saw anyone of this coming, because some of you did, although in an entirely differently direction.
- In terms of this chapter: Sakura's first (and perhaps not the last) return to Konoha was inevitable. Sakura and Kushina's meeting itself was also inevitable - I'm aware many of you have been eagerly anticipating something along these lines, so I hope it matches whatever your expectations had been (notice the difference in chapter titles?). Honestly speaking, the interactions between Sakura and Kushin was the easiest to write in the chapter. They just... wanted to work well together.
- More than anything, I wanted to draw out the wistful, hazy memories of Konoha through Sakura's own eyes. Like a veil that's been thrown over her eyes, but still, something is left missing. This was really important to me, to make her return to the outside world at the end even more startling and contrasting.
- Lastly, I think it should be very obvious to Naruto fans that no matter what lenses you may use to watch it, Naruto has always been one of the most impactful, if not most important, people in Sakura's life. To deny Naruto's importance to Sakura would be like denying a part of her identity, which is the exact opposite of what we want to explore here haha.
Above everything else, I want to say thank you to all my readers, both past and present. You guys are all incredibly understanding and more than once, I realized that I really have the best readers. You guys deserve this double update and more - I hope we can stay excited together, in wherever this fic takes us! Thank you again, and I hope this new year is starting off well!
- SE