I've been gone a while, busy with school that doesn't want to cool down and Tree With Deep Roots. But I finished this last night, so I've decided to just post this. I have to get back to Trust (whoops), I haven't ditched anything! On a side note, recommend me good sagueks if any, other than the ones on my profile, Dae Jang Geum, Yi San, Jumong and Empress Ki.
Year 2
Pink Clouds and a Blue Sky.
The chains link Sakura to the named person.
Only if she willingly hurts the chain will the chain, the person, and by extension herself, be hurt.
Damage on her is reflected on any chain not linked to another living person.
But damage on the person is reflected on the chain, and Sakura will be able to feel the pain.
No damage is reflected on Sakura, but through the chain she is able to, not that she has a choice, lessen the pain.
She learns this across the year that passes.
But she had a question left unanswered.
What happened if someone died?
The answer comes just as night falls.
It's a Friday night, and both she and senpai have a long night in front of them, for differing reasons.
While Tuesdays and Fridays were Kunoichi classes, Suzuki-sensei shuffled around the sessions, so dancing classes were on Tuesdays, and Medical Classes on Fridays.
Now considered an intern, Sakura is allowed to heal small cuts, but with no new students from the Academy, she's still considered the young errand girl.
Cuts and scrapes mean that she deals mainly with civilians, because no respectable Ninja would come to the hospital for a bit of raw skin.
Night time means mostly running for blankets and pillows for the patients, bringing medicine and water according to the prescription and writing it down in the log.
Senpai will counter sign it for her, and if needed, tell her to go get the doctor overseeing the patient.
But tonight is a long night.
And it had just begun.
It began with alarm bells going off in her head.
She looks around, trying to see if any patient is in distress.
It continues when she feels a sharp pain in her chest.
A hand presses itself against the source of the pain, but a quick diagnostic check tells her there's nothing wrong.
Dread curls around her heart, and she asks for all the chains which are damaged.
It's Mikoto-sama's.
Sakura has no chain for Sasuke's father, but Sasuke is unharmed.
For now.
Sakura has a chain for Sasuke's brother, but he, too is unharmed.
It's too early for either of them to be home.
So Mikoto-sama is alone.
Then, her chain … breaks.
It's accompanied by a drastic decrease in her chakra, and she can feel the chakra dissipate into the air.
She feels the sensation of something so very sharp stabbing at her chain.
Her Mikoto chain.
She hits the ground running, telling Senpai to cover for her, not giving him a chance to say no.
As miniscule anyone's chakra is, when agitated and uncontrolled, it flares.
That's exactly what happens when Sakura runs through the streets, tiny feet hitting the ground desperately.
She duly notes that her head hurts, but she doesn't stop.
Dashing past the Uchiha Senbei store, she recognises the smell of fresh senbei.
The last, 7.30 batch of the day.
It doesn't mix well with the coppery tang of blood.
Behind the counter, slumped over at their cooking table, the couple that ran the store are dead.
Even in death they are smiling at each other.
Their death came quick, sudden.
She sees the sword wound on their backs.
Sword.
Something so very sharp, trying to pierce the shield.
They're dead, and there's no chance she can bring them back.
She runs towards the main Uchiha clan house, towards her chain.
Sakura is a medic, and she's trained to not let anyone whom she could save, die.
But Sakura is also a medic who is running low on chakra.
She snaps links off her chakra chain, scattering them near the people whom she knows are still breathing.
After the chains make contact, their breathing slows, and their chakra compresses.
If they survived, Sakura or another medic could bring them out of stasis.
She breaks off another link, and she feels a bone in her arm break.
I can have it fixed later, she thinks, because she can't revive dead people.
She's already hit the penalty point, but she can still feel so many chakras flickering.
Sakura's scared, because there's nothing more she can do.
She ignores them, pushing open the door to Sasuke's living room.
Mikoto-sama is dead.
So is Uchiha-sama.
Sasuke-chan is slumped, oh like the couple, at the base of a wall he was clearly flung against.
And Itachi-san has his blade drawn, sharp sharp, grinding against the shield.
"Good evening, Sakura-san. I'm afraid to say that you'll have to go to sleep soon."
But his red eyed gaze slides from her to Sasuke, and he is impassive.
She throws herself against Sasuke, and they're both shoved into the wall.
"Why do you insist on interfering? My grudge is only with the Uchiha clan."
She calls for her chains, and they curl around Sasuke and her.
They are sluggish, but Itachi makes no move to kill the both of them.
Sakura won't claim to understand why, only that she's grateful.
"You're weak. Foolish little brother. If you don't get strong, your friends will be next."
He leaves in a murder of crows, and only after do the masked ninjas appear.
Right.
Itachi-san was in ANBU too, right?
In the moment, she was caught up in her anger.
There is ANBU member crouching in front of both she and Sasuke.
She's tired.
"You're late."
Just as she says it, another ANBU steps through the door.
"Inu-taicho, Neko has just brought those under stasis to the hospital, she estimates a 20% chance of survival through the night."
The ANBU in front of she and Sasuke appears not to have heard her.
"Very well. Tenzo, report to Lord Hokage and ask for further orders."
I hate you.
I hate you.
I HATE YOU!
She hates the fact that they are so disconnected from the scene.
"You're late," she says it again, before ignoring them in turn.
Sakura turns to face Sasuke, chains glowing green, scanning and healing.
It's mostly emotional shock and pain.
Physically, he has a few cuts, the only major injury would be organ bruising.
There's no blood flowing, and no ruptures.
It's queer, really, the brutality Itachi dealt his parents, yet the tenderness he disguises as violence with his brother.
She heals the bruising, and hums quietly, aware of the presences behind her.
They wait for her.
As she moves on to the less dangerous injuries, she begins sending more of her Spiritual side chakra to facilitate consciousness.
Groggily, Sasuke wakes.
"There. I don't suppose you could even wait till morning to question him?"
She receives a stiff nod.
How disgusting.
Gently, she wraps her arms around Sasuke, helping him up.
He cries when the memories return, and then, he asks.
"Sakura-chan…where's my Itachi-nii? He wasn't around last week. Is he alright?"
He doesn't know, Sakura thinks.
"The orange masked guy who killed Okaa-san and Otou-san, has he been caught?"
The ANBU will question only Sasuke, so now, only I know.
It's my choice.
Yuurei chooses to say nothing.
"I haven't seen Itachi-san. I ran over because I felt that Mikoto-sama was hurt. You were the only one alive here. Those I could, I placed in stasis. We've gotta go to the hospital now, alright?"
He cries some more, "I'm going to kill him. The guy with the orange mask. I'm going to kill him!"
Because Sakura trusts that Sasuke saw right, trusts that Itachi really does love Sasuke, trusts that keeping such a secret will not kill her.
The ANBU carry them on their backs.
Against her own will, fatigue from both intensive over-usage of chakra and the pain catches up to her.
She's tired.
"Sleep, Haruno-san. You've done well."
If she could muster up the energy, she would have scoffed.
Done well?
What is wrong with these people?
"You were late."
Her voice slurs.
Oh right.
They're ninjas.
He's quiet.
Or is it a she?
"Late…"
She hiccups.
Blood…blood so much blood.
"So hopelessly late…"
Screams resound in her ears.
It's so quiet, but their cries are so clear.
"I wonder…what did they think as they were being killed? Would any have thought why you didn't come?"
Was this planned by them?
There's no more noise, just the wind whistling in her ears as the scenery blurs.
Next to them, keeping pace, if slightly faster, the ANBU carrying Sasuke.
Although she's too tired to chance a look at the ground, she assumes that they're moving from roof to roof.
How many people have died tonight?
People, women, children, babies?
She imagines Sasuke slumped over, sword stuck through his back and her breathing shutters.
A silent tear leaks out of her eye, only to be wicked away by the wind.
Somewhere along the way, she must have fallen asleep.
I hate you because you were late.
On a stranger's back, Sakura wept.
For eyes which had never seen the light of day.
For ears which had never heard a kind word.
For hands which knew nothing other than to kill.
For lives so cruelly crushed by the world.
When I wake up, I expect to see white, breathe in stale air, hear quiet beeps.
And I do.
Slowly my eyes become accustomed to the light, dim as it is.
There's a closed window, orange light splashing against what I should think is white.
There are electronical beeps, accompanied by the tick-tock sound of passing time.
6 thirty….thirty…
I squint at the analogue clock, trying to make out the divisions.
Black spots dance in my vision, and I blink them away, focus broken.
Pink is the sky that's outside the window, and what I end up remembering about Second Year are the colours.
Next to my bed, curled up in his, a mop of black hair, Sasuke.
Curled inwards, white sheets flung off the edge, hair matted with sweat and grime.
And more than likely, blood.
Thinking of hair, something so trivial compared to the incident that happened some time ago, is ironic.
Running a hand through my hair, feeling my nails scrape against my scalp.
They come away with white flakes of skin, dandruff.
Grey grime, dirt and dead skin cells.
Brown flecks, dried blood.
My hair is in clumps, but oily.
Pink, but stuck in between dull and shiny.
Hey, that rhymed.
There's something heavy, weighing in my heart.
Spinning red eyes with tomoe floating lazily.
An aristocratic face with defined eye lines.
Symbols of weariness present for so long I've never noted them.
Yet now, if it will keep the child next to me smiling and without that bit of hatred, then I will keep the hatred in my heart.
I won't claim to understand, and thus I will not judge.
Maybe it's morally grey.
But for me, it's white.
So yes, colours.
Despite being mentally awake, my legs have yet to follow.
It's to be expected, considering how long they haven't moved.
Senpai walks through the door just as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed.
"You're awake, kouhai!"
His eyes appear to brighten, pen colliding with the clip board in his hand.
I smile, nodding.
He hurries over to the table at the foot of my bed, pouring me a cup of water.
We share a small smirk, before he withdraws a packet of sugar from his coat.
His scalpel hums to life, making the cut.
While originally we trained with paper to practise, the sugar packet became a trivial way that we kept our cuts quick and precise.
It helped that it made the hospital water taste less stale as well.
Kabuto-senpai tips half the packet into my cup, and the rest into a separate cup.
He fills his cup with water too, and rolls the table over to me.
I oblige, a chain extending before splitting into two, ends thinning and flattening, like the disposable stirrers provided at drink stores.
A separate chain extends to drag over a chair for him, but Senpai places a hand through it.
While physically he can't stop it unless I let him, I recognise his intent, and thus, retract my chain.
Carrying a small stool over, he sits by my bed, and we both enjoy our plain water.
Senpai knows not to probe, and that's something about him I appreciate.
Looking at the colourless liquid in my cup, as it swirls, evidence of the sugar crystals slowly dissipate.
Just like to how the ANBU, the further evidence of Itachi-san's involvement gets.
I sip at my drink.
Memory extraction techniques must have a limit, a boundary.
So if I gain more memories, it'll be harder to retrieve one I hardly remember.
"Get better soon, yeah?"
I nod, silent laughter on my lips.
He grins at this though, tossing me a sweet, before crumpling his cup, aiming it into the bin.
"I'll see you soon, my break ends in 5."
I smile, opening my mouth to thank him.
"Thanks…senpai."
He ruffles my hair affectionately, walking out the door, waving at me backwards.
Black. Black black black.
Oh that colour was so beautifully ugly.
His intentions and her feelings.
Her thoughts and his false emotions.
Maybe…
Maybe it was just her own suspicions and her paint brush with only black paint.
Sasuke wakes up early Sunday morning, and Sakura has yet to.
When the 8 o'clock bell rings, there are a few things that happen.
Yellow, black, and grey.
He rubs at his eyes, yawning tiredly, both emotionally and physically fatigued.
His movement attracts attention, and immediately, the yellow blob turns to him.
Naruto waves his palm slowly in his face, less enthusiastic than he normally is.
The spiky black haired one, Shikamaru, and whom he presumes is his father only nod their head lightly.
Condolence.
The memories of the previous(?) night return, and there's a sudden wave of grief that overwhelms him.
Along with this, the unexplainable wave of hate that wells up.
He can't stand the orange that Naruto wears.
He doesn't know how to express it.
But he hates it.
The colour orange.
The sudden emptiness that hits him like a sledgehammer, the fear and the sadness that comes in one go, accompanied by arms that are suddenly around him.
Such a violent clash of raw emotion that he can't vocalise, and he cries.
"Ne, Sasuke. You aren't alone you know?"
Alone… that was how he felt.
"Sakura-chan and I… we don't have parents. And now… you too."
A heart wrenching agony and defensive anger as he rears up to shout.
"But that pain…we know it."
He deflates.
The arms retract, and there a pair of earnest blue eyes trying to find his.
"So you aren't alone. I know that by experience. We're in this together."
Together…
He likes the sound of that.
Opens his mouth to say something, anything, but the words are stuck in his throat and he simply cries some more.
There's this quiet kind of wisdom that surrounds children made into adults too young.
This wisdom is not always understood even by the people who gain such wisdom.
But all the same, Naruto understands that Sasuke hates orange.
Naruto also understands that Sakura doesn't want to trust the boy with silver hair.
Sasuke understands that Naruto and orange go together, and thus, makes no fuss about the colour.
He also understands that Sakura may well have saved his life, and broke an arm in trying to save some of his relatives' lives.
Sakura though, is a different case.
She doesn't claim to understand why everything seems to fade, becoming bleak in an instant, because Naruto is bright like the sun, and Sasuke keeps turning black.
So she lets it go.
Even if she remembers, she must forget.
Time passes, and both she and Sasuke are released from the hospital.
When they return to the Academy, fingers follow them.
Whispers, not just condolences, but hurtful, cutting comments.
Naruto-kun sits with Sasuke-chan, successfully thwarting the attempts of most fangirls.
She sits beside Shika-chan, chains lazily deflecting every projectile coming in their direction.
Complaints at Naruto, gifts at Sasuke, chalk at Shikamaru, and insults at Chouji.
Slowly, things slip back into routine.
Iruka-sensei teaches the usual Academy syllabus, and they begin on real katas to build up strength.
Alongside this, a newer teacher, Mizuki-sensei, teaches them hand seals.
How to string them together, the more common technique affiliations with certain seals, and theories behind the hand seals.
Iruka-sensei knows she enjoys history and theories, writes her passes for access to the Academy's library, and she devours the books.
Learns of the feud between the Uchiha and the Senju.
Learns of the deaths of the clan heads' siblings.
Learns of infamous shinobi around the world.
Learns, learns, learns.
Medical theories, elemental combinations.
Formation of the countries, common trade routes.
Unique poisons and perfect antidotes.
Conductivity of various materials, treatises on military strategy.
Brief accounts on village leadership types, ways to read people well.
Words fly off the pages, but not all stick.
Still, she remembers best as she can, while others fill their brains with flowers.
Suzuki-sensei has her start every dance class with half an hour of stretches, keeping her muscles pliant and limber.
Next, she is made to pick out a kimono for the specific occasion.
Mourning, celebration.
In house wear, elaborate gatherings.
Daily use, special occasions.
Next, she learns how to walk, balancing books on her head, keeping her back straight.
The posture is a pain, because she's not allowed to slouch.
Only after, is she taught to carry a umbrella, resting it delicately on her shoulder, entire frame shifting from side to side as she moves.
Her wooden shoes clack gently against the floor board, loose strands of hair blowing across her powdered face.
Sundays are spent drinking tea, eating snacks and doing homework with Hinata-chan.
Over the year, through training with her father, her confidence gradually increases, and he smiles more.
The smiles matter, because these help to further Hinata.
Sakura sees this, and she's glad.
On a side note, the merchant scroll extends her an invitation to Kumo, to formally introduce herself to everyone else present.
While she should feel more comfortable with hosting it in Konoha, she has little idea how to go about it.
The invite is for March the 15th, and it would be impolite to decline.
Also, Kumo was known for its particularly spicy cinnamon.
"Hinata-chan, you like cinnamon buns, right?"
She smiles enthusiastically, nodding.
"Have you had the ones from Kumo?"
There's a sudden change in the atmosphere, as Hinata slowly shakes her head.
"Are you going to Kumo, Sakura-chan?"
In her voice, something is quiet but terrified.
Sakura hums, sipping the tea, "Beginning of next year."
In her eyes, something dark, but meaningful flickers, "Be careful there."
Hinata says no more, and Sakura doesn't press.
She broaches the subject to Nara-sama in a round-a-bout way.
"Nara-sama, is there any way to preserve food for a long distance trip?"
He doesn't look at her directly, just the shogi piece she moved.
"Mm yeah. Chouza would probably know more about that than me, but there are preservation seals. Though, most of the ninjas will bring ration bars instead. Those are cheaper."
He shifts an innocuous pawn forward.
"How long do these preservation seals last? And how do they affect the flavour and texture?"
Shikaku-sama looks up at her, eyes still bored, but gears shifting.
"Depends. Most standard seals have a duration length, but there are those which have no expiry unless broken. The ones that the Akimichi use generally have a 99.9% retention rate. Are you going somewhere?"
She bobs her head.
"I've been invited to Kumo for an official introduction ceremony."
Once more, the air changes.
"Would you be willing to come?"
He waves her off.
"My presence wouldn't be taken to well. It's Kumo."
With him, she presses, and he tells her about the Hyuga Affair.
It's barbaric, morbid, but above everything, successful.
The Raikage is a bad business man, swayed by both emotions and power, and more importantly, greed.
Still, the answer is no, and Sakura prepares for a trip to Kumo, replying an affirmative.
Even the Hokage frowns at the thought of her going to Kumo, and Chouza-sama hesitantly agrees to help her pack supplies.
She goes around to the clans, asking if they wanted anything from Lightning Country, and if they had goods to offer.
The response is fairly lukewarm. Despite the treaty, tensions still run high.
The caravan sets off, bearing nothing more but civilian goods and gifts.
In addition to this, Sakura brings no weapons.
The only thing remotely ninja she has is a contact application preservation seal.
"I'll put it on a cinnamon bun for Hinata's birthday," she thinks.
Thoughts of the Hyuga Affair weigh heavily on her mind, and it's the main reason why she asked for ninjas without obvious clan affiliations.
Kumo was hungry for bloodlines and special traits.
She wanted to go and come back without issue.
The sky's blue after all.
As you can probably guess, Third Year will start with the trip to Kumo, and expand on political machinations as well as Sakura's kunoichi studies.
