Come away to the water

Rest easy, father

Sakura and Hinata walked into the kitchen hand-in-hand, dressed and looking every bit the young ladies they ought to look. From her pinched-pink cheeks, to Hinata's hair draping over one side of her face, she was certain they looked the picture of innocence, and not at all like the mist-cloaked battlefield prowlers they were. Black eyes danced across their figures and faces. She was relieved that the cloaks they donned did not betray their physical features.

Those black eyes were just as unrevealing as they slid between the girls before moving back to settle on Kizashi. Together, she and Hinata sat at the table to pick at their brown bread and boiled eggs, neither of them feeling particularly hungry. Sakura's stomach felt too heavy with the strange eyes that continuously turned to her.

Her father's warm laughter rang in her ears, and every jovial bubble he expelled set her further on edge. Too trusting. He had allowed a stranger into their home; welcomed him, even. All his talk about staying out of the fray, keeping to themselves, all of it was for nothing because he had invited a wolf into their den.

Hinata was a master at controlling her emotions. She never outwardly appeared tense or worried, her expression always schooled in a demure passiveness, and Sakura envied her that in their current predicament. She was certain her face betrayed her anxiety and frustration. She only hoped it would be written off as the temperament of a thirteen year old girl, rather than the concern of someone backed into a corner. Still, calm as she was on the outside, Sakura could tell Hinata was as worried as she was by the pieces of egg that clung to her shell as she peeled her breakfast.

The man had told Kizashi that he was a wayward traveller; a merchant down on his luck, trying to find a place to rebuild his practice. Sakura wanted to tell him how strange she thought it was that he would pick a most unfortunate geographical location to begin anew, but she bit her tongue. It was no secret that Land of Valleys was steeped in poverty; a once prosperous land had been reduced to little more than stomping grounds for the nin that waged war on either side of them.

Kizashi did not question the story, though. Sakura was not surprised, but she felt a sting of disappointment. Her father's choices weighed heavily on her shoulders, and she knew she would be the one to rectify his error. She wished his kindness came with more self-preservation. She wasn't sure who this man truly was, but she knew he was no merchant.

She could only assume he was a shinobi of the Mist, for the simple fact that she and Hinata had not left any Konoha nin breathing on the battlefield behind them. What he wanted with them, though, she was less sure of. It could have been that Kiri was curious about the lack of torture victims left behind after a skirmish. It could have been that they had simply found new targets for their torture.

Her father excused himself and the man's black eyes were suddenly much sharper than they had been when Kizashi was still in the room.

"Pretty eyes," he appraised with a short nod to Hinata. Sakura curled her hand around the kunai she had hidden under the waistband of her pants. Hinata raised her head, letting her bluish-black hair fall away from her face, exposing the empty socket of the eye Kiri had stolen from her.

"Thank you," she said, never breaking her gaze. Sakura's knuckles were going numb under the force with which she gripped her buried kunai. The man's indifferent smile turned wicked and his eyes flashed with recognition. Sakura had no doubts that this man knew Hinata was a member of one of Konoha's prolific clans.

Sakura wondered if she could get the jump on him. Both her and Hinata's chakra were replenished, but still, she wasn't sure that the two of them were any match for a battle-worn shinobi of the Mist. She didn't have to wonder long, though, because Kizashi was wandering back into the kitchen and the nin's false smile was sliding back into place.

"I'm going to help nee-chan with the washing today, Papa," Sakura said as she cleared the able of their barely-touched breakfast. "She has some pain," she explained, vaguely gesturing to her eye to dissuade her father from asking any questions. As expected, he nodded curtly and waved them off. "Come, nee-chan."

She took Hinata by the hand and dragged her to her room to clean the dried blood that clung to the sensitive skin below her eye socket. Once her scarred eye was wrapped and tucked away, they continued on to the washing basin. Sakura let her bloodied bindings sink down to the bottom of the basin, out of sight and out of mind, because she didn't want her father to see them and she did not want to think about them. She would let Hinata deal with them when the time came.

Hinata was able to confirm that the nin was Kiri once they were away from any prying eyes or curious ears. She had seen his headband buried deep in his cloaks when she had observed him with her Byakugan from the confines of her bedroom that morning. But even that special eye of hers could not see what his motives were.

"Nothing good," Hinata said with a small sigh. She absently scratched at the bandage over her would-be eye. "How long do you think he'll stay?" she asked.

"Not long," Sakura said with conviction. He would leave, one way or another, and soon. She would see to it herself. Hinata didn't doubt her, and she didn't seem upset by the news. In some ways, her sister could be more callous than Sakura, though it was Sakura that drew the most blood. She supposed years of torture and captivity would do that to a person. In was remarkable that Hinata functioned as well as she did.

Sakura didn't ever pry into Hinata's years in Kirigakure. She could only imagine that those were not memories Hinata would care to reminisce about. Instead, Sakura busied her with questions about Konoha, and the Hyuuga clan, and chakra, and jutsu.

Hinata had been only six years old when she was taken from Konoha, so her knowledge was limited. Still, it was a world more than what Sakura knew, and she was grateful for every scrap of information Hinata could give her. Before Hinata came long, the only thing Sakura had learned about chakra was what it was and how it felt in her body. She hadn't learned seals, or jutsu, or anything else of the sort. She had taken that limited knowledge and used it to the best of her ability, until she was able to manipulate her body using chakra.

Hinata had been impressed. She said that that was not a common use of chakra, as far as she knew. But then, really, how much did she know? Sakura had to wonder. Regardless, she would take care of this problem. She had no other choice but to take care of it. There was no one else who could.

Hinata was lovely and strong, in her own right, but she had seen so many horrors in her short life, that Sakura felt it was her duty to protect her from enduring anymore. She had always been very good at that; protecting people from their suffering. This would be no exception, she promised herself. Her father, her sister, her home and farm, and all the animals that resided here—they were all hers to protect. Even those damned chickens.

Clothes and linens washed, floors scrubbed, goats milked, and meals prepped, and their day had come to a close. Usually, by this point in the day, Sakura would feel tired, peaceful, ready to unwind after a day of chores and resign herself to her bed until her father's snores filled their cottage, and then slip away in the dead of night to continue her work. When she explained to Hinata what she did and why, Hinata had called her a harvester; crops by day and souls by night. She supposed that was true.

Sakura hadn't intended for Hinata to join her crusade, but Hinata had wanted to. She knew firsthand what those captured by Kiri would endure, and she was adamant that they keep as many as possible safe from that doom. Sakura wasn't sure if Hinata felt any loyalty to the forces of her village as she swept through the mists and ended their lives one swift strike after the other. Perhaps she was doing this out of loyalty to Konoha.

She'd never had that sort of affiliation to a village, so she couldn't say for certain. Could a village inspire such devotion in a six year old? Sakura only felt devotion to her little farm. This was the place she wanted to protect, more than anything, and there was no army that marched in its honour. Only two girls swathed in tattered gauze. They were the only protectors this land knew.

She hoped it was enough.

Sakura hadn't eaten much at the dinner table, and the calm she usually felt at the end of her workday was notably elusive. She felt a twisting in her heart, nauseating and worrisome, and entirely unrelenting as she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her kunai gripped firmly in her hand under her blankets. Hinata was beside her, her Byakugan activated as she stared at the wall of her own bedroom, where their unwanted guest was currently fast asleep.

"You're sure?" Sakura whispered. Hinata nodded slowly, her eye unwavering as it gazed through the wall.

"He's been out for a while now. I'm certain," she whispered back. Slowly, softly, Sakura climbed out of her bed and plod barefoot to the door. She knew well which floorboards were creaky and would betray her, and which would keep her as quiet as possible. Hinata remained where she sat, watching Sakura's back with that eye vigilantly trained on her.

Hinata's door opened silently, as Sakura knew it would. Moon filtered in dimly through the gauzy curtains on her window, a strip of soft light landing across the man's face. Sakura froze, staring at him, waiting for any sign of wakefulness, but none came. She tightened her grip on her kunai and approached the bed.

A swift cut. One swift, precise cut was all she needed to land, and his blood would trickle out, carrying his life away. Cut deep and true, that was what her father always told her when it was time to slaughter one of their animals. This was no different, she told herself. One swipe across his neck, ear to ear, and her family would be safe. She hoped Hinata would be able to get the blood off the sheets.

Sakura gazed down at the sleeping man and raised her blade. Arm poised to strike, she moved to drag her knife across his neck, and just as quickly as blood pebbled under her blade did she find herself lifted off her feet and flung onto the bed, her body crushed beneath the weight of a grown man.

"I had assumed the old man was the killer, but I see now," he whispered, his mouth twisted in a wicked smile. Her knife was still pressed to his skin, but he had her arms locked together, keeping her immobile. All she had to do was break his hold. She was in the right place; she just needed to push through him and into the veins beneath that delicate skin. She could see a few of them now, bulging out with his anger, pulsating with the life she aimed to end.

"Why did you follow us?" she gasped through the hands on her neck. She knew Hinata was watching, but she wasn't in real trouble, not yet. As a rough hand gripped her throat she came to understand the twinkle in those dark eyes.

Cruelty. He was enjoying her fear. In all the lives she'd taken, she had never once taken pleasure in it, or been intentionally cruel. His second hand twisted in her hair and yanked it until her eyes watered.

"Pink," he whispered, his lips tilting into a smirk. "I guess he wasn't talking nonsense after all…"

"Why?" she gasped again as his hand tightened against her windpipe. A trickle of blood flowed from his neck, down her kunai and dripped onto her face. He paid it no mind, even as it coloured her lips ruby red.

"You've cost us a lot of information, little farmer," he sneered. "How many informants have you killed over the years…" his hand tightened over her neck so that air would not come to her no matter how she heaved for it. She had so few tools at her disposal. So few, so inconsequential. She could taste his blood on her tongue as she desperately tried to breathe.

Hinata had never seen anyone use chakra the way she did. Sakura hadn't believed it meant anything, but it was her last option now, so she felt her chakra pool in her arms, swelling and strengthening, and then with one burst, the chakra lent itself to an insurmountable force, and his hold was rendered useless. She felt the heat of his lifeblood on her hands first, as her kunai plunged deep into his throat.

She bathed in it as she lay beneath him, dragging her blade through the sinewy tendons of his neck, so deep she would have cut through it entirely had her blade been longer. Red rained down on her, soaking her hair and face, splashing into her mouth before she'd had a chance to close it. She closed her eyes to shield them from the blood, but she could hear it splashing and splattering from his open throat.

Cut deep and true. She had certainly done that. She found it odd that she had no guilt. Even when she heard Hinata's hurried footsteps come to the room, and her startled gasp, she felt no guilt. Once the heavy splatters trickled to a close, Sakura could make out the sound of her father's continued snoring in the distance.

The weight was heaved off of her and she felt Hinata dabbing away the blood that had pooled on her eyelids and lips.

"What now?" her sister whispered frantically as she continued to wipe away what she could from Sakura's face. After awhile longer of enduring the scrubbing, Sakura pushing her hands away, sat up and forced her eyes open. She glanced back at the man, and the bed, ruined with blood. His black eyes stared blankly back at her.

"This is wartime, nee-chan," Sakura reminded her as she slowly rose from the bed to rifle through the nin's cloaks. Finding what she needed, she returned to the bed to drape it over his open eyes. "Shinobi are vigilant and calculating."

Hinata stood behind her to peep over her shoulder at the newly-dead man, lying in a bed of his own blood, his head barely hanging onto his body, and his Kirigakure forehead protector draped over his face.

With one last look at the dead man in her bed, Hinata sighed and went about removing Sakura's blood-soaked nightclothes, wiping away any droplets that threatened to drip down her body and leave a trail from the bedroom to the bathroom the three of them shared. Hinata filled the bath for her while she stared at herself in the small mirror above the sink.

She hardly recognized herself. Her hair was slicked down to her forehead and neck, dark and red and thick. Streaks of blood trailed from her eyes down to her chest, and probably further, but the mirror didn't reflect it back to her. She could see bits and pieces of her skin poking through the red, where Hinata had wiped at her.

Her eyes seemed too alive, surrounded by all that blood. Too bright. Too green, and sparkling, and awake. Too unlike the blank black eyes that she had been staring into just moments ago.

Hinata left her to go and dispose of her ruined clothes. They were unsalvageable, even for Hinata. When she came back, Sakura was still staring into that mirror. She only moved when Hinata took her gently by her shoulders and moved her to the tub, where the both of them scrubbed her raw, until her skin was red with irritation instead of Kiri blood.

Her father didn't wake them the next morning, but he didn't need to. They were awake, lying side by side while Hinata watched through the wall as Kizashi discovered the corpse, and relayed all the goings-on to Sakura in a whisper. Sakura felt a little guilty about leaving the cleanup to him, and she worried that perhaps her father was not the sort of man who could deal with such a gruesome sight.

Hinata said he seemed to be managing well. Shocked and shaken, but he wasn't very disturbed. Sakura thought that she had not given him enough credit. She and Hinata stayed on her bed together while Kizashi took the body out to the edge of the farm where they buried all their deadstock. She wondered what he would say of Hinata's mattress when the time came.

"He said something about your hair," Hinata said while Kizashi covered the corpse in a fresh mound of dirt. "He said someone mentioned pink."

A pair of eyes flashed in Sakura's memory; one red and one grey. She wondered if the boy she had failed to save had seen something and told Kiri. She felt sad for him. He must have been enduring horrific pain. She couldn't even bring herself to feel upset that he had somehow led a Kiri nin to her front door.

"It isn't your fault," Hinata insisted. Sakura didn't believe her. She had hesitated when she saw that strange red eye. It was so foreign to her, yet so familiar. She had seen it before, long ago. That felt like a lifetime ago, now. She never thought she would see an eye like that again, and seeing it had made her stop short.

It hadn't been in the same head, the first time she saw it. It had belonged to a different boy, one that didn't have a grey eye, or silvery hair. "You still have some blood in your hair," Hinata continued, reaching over to rub her fingers through Sakura's hair at the roots. Sakura sighed, knowing she would need to scrub until her fingers were pruned and her scalp raw. For now, she didn't let it bother her. She remained where she was, tucked into Hinata's side and savouring the warmth between their bodies until her father bid they get out of bed.

It was awhile before he knocked softly at her door and stuck his head in. He looked tired.

"Sacchan, Hinata-chan. Please get ready and come to the kitchen," his voice was soft and his smile softer, comforting as if he hadn't been the one to wake to a dead man in his home, and spend the daybreak disposing of the body.

"Yes, Papa," she said as Hinata slid out from under the covers to dress for the day. With one slow nod, he retreated and closed the door behind him.

"Ojii-san is a very patient man, Sakura-chan," Hinata said softly as she pulled her nightdress off. "We're very lucky to have him." Sakura had heard very little of Hinata's family back in Konoha. It was another topic she dared not pry into until Hinata was ready.

She had always found it odd that Hinata's first instinct was not to find safe passage home to her village. Perhaps a cruel family was the reason why she had thought it better to remain on this farm with Sakura and her father. Whatever her reasons, Sakura was glad to have her here, and not just because it made her nightly job easier. It was nice to have a sister. It was nice to have her family expand to one more person. Sakura hadn't realized she was lonely until Hinata came along.

But she was right. Her father was a very patient, even-tempered man. Even in the face of violence, he remained calm and easy as the girls stepped into the kitchen, where he presented them with warm bread and eggs. The only indicator that something was out of the ordinary was that, instead of their customary boiled eggs, her father had fried an egg for each of the girls and slid a couple of small sausage links onto their plates. She and Hinata shared a started look with one another.

"Papa?" Sakura questioned as she sat in her chair and pushed the food around. He reserved meals like this for special occasions. Birthdays, the day Hinata had been invited to live with them. The anniversary of Sakura's mother's death. "Has something happened?"

"Girls, these are troubling times," he said with a sigh as he slid into a chair opposite them.

"That man…" Hinata began, peering at Kizashi through the curtain of her hair. "Where is he?"

"He was not who he said he was," Kizashi said softly, his eyes cast down to the tabletop before him. "I put you girls in danger, and for that I'm sorry." Sakura felt her skin prickle as her father exhaled a long, shaky breath.

"He was a ninja," Sakura said as she dug into one of the sausages on her plate. She felt both Hinata and her father stare at her as she shoved the entire thing in her mouth in one bite. "Right?" she asked around her mouthful. Her father shook his head in resignation, but she saw his lips tilt in a small, amused smile.

"Yes, it would appear so."

"Kiri?" Hinata asked before taking a far more demure bite of her breakfast. Kizashi nodded. "Where is he now?"

"He's gone. We won't have to worry about him anymore."

And with that, her father closed the discussion. Sakura could see it was still weighing on him, though. She supposed that was to be expected. Whether he suspected Konoha of going after the enemy, or Kiri of persecuting a missing nin, or something else entirely, the truth was shinobi had been through this place. In the Land of Valleys, in wartime, shinobi were far from a welcomed sight.

She only hoped he would be the first and the last.

Through all that had happened that night, it seemed the sky decided to smile upon their farm that day. The air was shockingly dry and warm for this time of year, and the sun beat down on them undisturbed by clouds. For the first time in a long time, they took the day to themselves; lounging about in the green pastures and watching wispy clouds drift in and out of their view.

Sakura's mind slipped into one daydream after another, sometimes slipping out of conscious into real dreams, only to find herself waking with a start when the warm sun started to feel like a warm bath of blood instead. Hinata's hand was clasped tightly in hers, squeezing gently whenever Sakura woke with a start.

The next time wakefulness slipped away from her, it wasn't the red of blood she saw, but rather that glowing red eye. It wasn't the silver-haired boy she'd failed to save this time, but rather the distant memory of the first time she'd gazed into an eye just like that.

It had belonged to a boy much younger than the one she'd abandoned on the battlefield, his face marred with scars, and his hair as black and unruly as the night; skin as white as the moon, and a smile as bright as the sun.

When Hinata woke her again, the sun was setting and her father was beckoning them inside for their supper. She and Hinata shared her bed again that night, neither they nor Kizashi mentioning anything about Hinata's mattress suddenly being removed from her bed frame.

Weeks went by without another visit from Kiri, and Sakura breathed easier, feeling that they were in the clear. Still, she and Hinata were cautious when they performed their nightly duties. They worked harder and faster, often fleeing the scene before Kiri nin approached to prowl for survivors. Hinata's eyes were getting sharper, and stronger. Her headaches were fewer and further apart as time went on, and the distance she could see had increased impressively, from forty kilometres to sixty, in just a little over a month's time.

While Sakura still could not take lives as cleanly as Hinata, her chakra-strengthened strikes were getting more precise. So, her hands may have remained bloodied, but her clothes showed little evidence of it.

The next time they made the trek into the town to sell some of their extra yields from their farm, Sakura found herself pleased to see that her father's kind disposition had not been deterred. She supposed she should have been frustrated, but she was happy to know that, come what may, he would always believe the best in humanity, and he would always give his best in return.

An elderly lady slipped a few coins into his hand in exchange for a small sack of wool, smiling up at him, her eyes darting between him and Sakura as she cooed.

"Oh, look at that hair," she said, reaching forward to pat Sakura's head. Sakura tried her best to keep her sour expression at bay, but she was certain she'd failed in that respect. "So interesting, I've never seen that before." Kizashi was laughing, making small talk with the woman but Sakura felt something cold crawl along her neck. "Pink hair," the old woman continued, "how unique."

Sakura could practically feel the fist at the back of her head, tugging at her hair while black eyes bore into her. Just as quickly as the memory came, it left, as did the woman. A few long hours later, they were back on their farm and Sakura was putting it out of her mind.

She should have known better.

"Sakura," Hinata whispered frantically as they approached the farm, surrounded by heavy mists and tired from a night of hard work. Sakura didn't know what Hinata was seeing, but the panic in her voice was all she needed to push her legs harder, work her lungs overtime as she surged toward their little cottage.

She saw red. Red on her hands, red in the mist as blood sprayed into the thick air, red on the ground beneath her feet where blood pooled. The blood of a woman whose chest had a gaping hole where Sakura's hand and pushed clean into her. The blood of the man she had been leaned over before Sakura had gotten to her.

His green eyes sparkled for just a second longer as they settled on her face, distorted by the gauzy veil. She watched as the light left them for good. She stared down at him, trying to reconcile what she was seeing. It wasn't real. This wasn't real.

Hinata's hands were on her shoulders, but she was plummeting to the ground, kneeling over her father, clutching at his lifeless body, shaking him, begging him to take a breath, to come back to himself.

"Papa," she begged, "Papa, please…" She felt tears roll hot and thick over her face, mingling with the blood that had splashed onto her with the hasty, brutal kill she'd made. "Papa," she wailed, dropping her forehead to his unmoving chest, still warm.

Hinata was kneeling beside her, crying silently and gently holding her shoulder.

"They killed him," she rasped, her body quaking with shock. His blood was all over her hands and face. She was sticky with it. "They killed him, Hinata. They killed Papa." She raised her head to finally look at Hinata, kneeling in the grass, distraught.

"Who, Sacchan?" she whispered. Sakura tore her eyes from her sister to the woman she'd laid waste to. To the headband sat proudly on her forehead.

The Mist had come for Haruno Kizashi, and the Mist had taken him.

A/N: I'm realizing that updating this story will be much slower than I'm used to. Mostly because I find it very difficult so spend so much time immersing myself into it, at least for now. Maybe that will change as the story progresses, and some of these subject matters get left behind? I do not know lol

for now I hope u enjoy this morsel of violent, heartbroken sakura

also if anyone is interested, I am writing a Social Media AU on twitter that follows the events of You Again! it is a much lighter read lol

tumblr: bl1ndbraavosi

twitter: alhollandwrites