CHAPTER 10: THE GODDESS IS BORN
In the month of her sixteenth birthday, Sakura takes on her first mercenary assignment.
It's a simple assassination attempt, placed by a businessman on a rival. Said rival is a Sand shinobi with a listing in the bingo book. If Sakura pulls this off, she'll be able to collect payment from both sides.
"I'm okay," she says, rubbing her hands together for the thousandth time.
Itachi notices, because he catches her wrists together and gently pries them apart and to her side. "Focus. You'll be fine."
"I'm focused. I am fine."
"Go. See you tomorrow."
Sakura leaves in her cloak, now tattered at its edges. She doesn't pull her hood up any more, because her hair hasn't been pink for years and she wants to start walking tall from now on.
The town she's supposed to find the Sand shinobi is another small one, but unlike the others, it's opulent. She arrives at dusk, and there are lighted signs on every shop, and shops at every corner. Her first stop is at an inn, where she books a room and takes the first hot bath she's had since - she actually can't remember the last time she took a proper shower.
At nine o'clock, she dresses in a simple Sand outfit: a simple inner slip, a short shirt, and a longer sleeveless dress layered over everything. She winds some bandages from her thighs to her knees, and slips on her trusty coat. In the pocket, her fruit knife is stored, more a talisman than anything actually of use.
Her target, Daichi, is at a bar. Unsurprisingly, he's surrounded by women in paper thin yukatas. Sakura takes a seat at the corner, near the back door. Now all she has to do is wait.
In less than an hour, he makes his way towards the back door, past Sakura. Toilet break. She slips outside before the door swings shut.
He's walking towards a low row of shrubs and she takes one final deep breath.
"Hey," she says, loosening the bandages across her palms. Her voice barely carries over the wind.
Daichi stops and turns around. What he sees is a strange girl, the backs of her fists pressed tightly to her eyes. "What the-"
Her palms fly open, hands still pressed over her eyes, and all he has time to see are two blood red eyes that stare back at him. The tomoes whirl, faster and faster, and just like that, it's over.
Sakura drags him into an endless, blissful night at the bar, where the women never stop pouring him drinks and the money he spends never runs out. Three seconds after casting her genjutsu, Sakura pulls her hands away from her eyes and picks up the bandages on the ground.
After her hands are wrapped tight, she reaches for her kunai and slits his throat.
By eleven o'clock she's walking halfway back to their hideout, using absolutely no chakra. Both of Daichi's rings, as proof of his death, are nestled safely together in her right pocket. They clink together with her fruit knife as she moves, and the sound makes her heart sing.
In the months that follow, her notoriety spreads across the lands.
"I have it all planned out, don't worry," she had told Itachi, while they were still training with Sasuke's eyes. Her palm burned for an entire month after the transplant. "When it's time, I want Danzo to know exactly what is coming for him."
You never know it's coming, people say. It's genjutsu on a different level, others say. At least you die happy, shinobi joke. These are the whispered warnings that come back to Sakura and Itachi: if something is too good to be true, you better check - you might be trapped in her genjutsu.
No one knows her name. No one knows what village she's from. No one knows how she casts her genjutsu, because no one has lived to tell the tale.
They call her the Goddess of Genjutsu.