Kill Your Heroes
-Chapter Three-
Somniphobia
Crying didn't bring any kind of relief, not like sobbing into Ino's arms or her mother's might have, just a sense of being watched, judged, and found wanting.
She wasn't crying loudly. Sakura had immediately stifled her sobs into something like harsh, ragged breathing in the way only those children who've learned that crying only attracts more bullies can, swiping furiously at her cheeks with the base of her palms. She had a sense, not necessarily backed by auditory evidence, that the civilians were whispering about her.
That same sense told her that Kakashi-sensei was regarding her with disappointment, so she struggled to stop and she was careful not to meet his gaze. But stopping seemed beyond her. It wasn't until her nose started running in earnest that her tears began to taper off and she could rummage in her kit for a tissue, unfolding herself from where she'd pulled her knees tight to her chest.
She found one, of course, because Sakura had trained herself to be the kind of girl who never left home without a packet of tissues and a tube of lip gloss. Not even Ino could make a runny nose attractive.
When she'd cleaned herself up as best she could, the back of her hand still sluggishly dribbling blood and the cut on her face bleeding more freely, she stared down at the hand the tissue was clenched in.
"Kakashi-sensei, I—," the words all seemed to catch in her throat. She both wanted and didn't want to talk about what happened. Part of her thought that it would be better to have Kakashi-sensei tell her that everything would be fine, the other part insisted that he wouldn't understand what she was feeling, the painfully acute mix of guilt and relief.
And it hurt to talk, not just emotionally, but physically—the wounds which had hurt even in the midst of the fight suddenly seemed much worse now.
As her hand came up instinctively to the cut on her face, she noticed that Kakashi-sensei wasn't looming over her as she expected. Instead, he was crouching. Not close enough to crowd her, but close enough to be comforting, somehow. Kakashi-sensei was not necessarily cold, at least not outside of that battle with Zabuza, in which he'd seemed like an almost entirely different person, but he was not a warm person either.
"Sakura-chan," he said, almost gentle, "why don't you go with this nice young man and get those treated?" His hands ghosted up toward his face, then flicked toward her to indicate her own wounds. "They look like they hurt. I'll take care of things here for now. We'll talk later, ne?"
Sakura nodded shakily and managed to get to her feet, even though her legs trembled and she had a horrible moment where she thought she would collapse to the ground. She saved face by pretending she'd meant to snatch up the knives, but when she found them in her hands, she didn't know what to do with them. She wanted to pitch them to them ground with a screech and go wash her hands, because both were tacky and one was warm, and she wanted to be sick, but instead she just clutched them tighter. If she didn't want to lose to Ino, she at least couldn't be sick in public. Not only her pride as a ninja, but her pride as a woman was at stake.
So, taking a deep breath, which did nothing to calm her when it only brought the stench of tar and melted plastic, Sakura allowed herself to be led to the clinic. The doctor was a stocky middle-aged woman who was promptly horrified at her appearance. That just made Sakura feel worse even before the doctor produced needle and thread, but the pinch and sting of having everything cleaned and disinfected helped distract her from replaying what had just happened in her mind.
Sakura had listened to all the lessons about compartmentalization and rationalization and all the other coping techniques they'd need as shinobi in the field. She watched the same films, been shown the same pictures, had attended the same demonstrations as the rest of her class. She'd thought she was prepared.
No one had ever asked Sakura if she wanted to be a ninja, but she'd never wanted to be anything else, either.
It was just what her family did. They weren't like the big clans: the Senju, the Hyuuga, or the Uchiha. Neither side had ever fared well in wars, so they were a small family—her father had lost all three siblings and her mother had once had a sister who'd survived the brunt of the fighting only to have her body declared irretrievable after a botched mopping up mission—and they didn't have any distinctive techniques, but they were loyal soldiers of the village.
Until now, she'd thought she was ready for this. That she knew what being a shinobi meant.
What it meant to take someone else's life. To risk her own life. Again and again and again. She couldn't decide which had been worse, the fight itself or the resolution. She still felt the terror of being chased by a stronger opponent, someone who would ruthlessly cut her down if he could catch her, but she could also feel the heat of the fire beating against her skin.
She shuddered and earned a rebuke from the doctor for her trouble. Sakura worked to keep still after that, but what should have been easy with the exhaustion weighing her down became a trial. It was as if sitting still gave the memories time to catch up. She shoved them away, tried to replace them with her favorite fantasies about Sasuke-kun, but they seeped back in, far more sharp-edged and vivid.
It was accusing silver eyes that haunted her rather than the dark ones she'd spent so much time hoping to turn her way.
But at last it was over.
The cut from the edge of her lips along her cheek had required stitches and though it presently had a bandage covering it, she was very self-conscious about it, prodding the edges of the bandage as she stared at herself in the mirror. The scrape along her eyebrow had been left uncovered and it was an ugly field of developing scabs, but it made something pinch inside her chest to know that her smile would be accented for years with a scar.
The doctor had found a hair tie for her, to replace Masa's shemagh, and she ran the well-worn but—as he'd promised—clean fabric through her hands. She'd used to do the same this with Ino's ribbon, winding and twisting it in her fingers over and over. Once, it had been comforting.
Once, the worst thing in her life were playground bullies.
Sakura eventually gathered herself enough to emerge from the little bathroom where she'd combed out her hair and tried to offer the scarf back to Masa with her thanks. But he grinned at her as he took it from her hands and looped it playfully around her neck. "A token of appreciation, for saving all of us today," he said.
"Here, fold it like this," he suggested and with deft hands, he refolded and tied it so that it formed a high ridge in front of her face. "And there you have it. It might make that a little less noticeable until it heals. It would be better if the fabric was newer, but I still think it looks cute."
Sakura blinked at him, then turned so she could see herself in the mirror. It wasn't high enough to obscure it completely unless she ducked her head, but it did present a kind of visual barrier that diverted focus from the bandage. And for some reason, that lightened her spirits, but what really, almost unreasonably seemed to ease the pressure was the earnest, freely given gratitude in Masa's voice.
She'd known that she'd killed people today.
It had almost escaped her that she had also saved them.
She would never remember exactly what she said to Masa, but whatever it was, she doubted it really conveyed her appreciation.
Until that moment, Haruno Sakura had been a kunoichi by happenstance.
Now she had…something.
It wasn't as fully fleshed out as Sasuke-kun's driven ambition, it wasn't as loud or overpowering as Naruto's 'ninja way', but it was the first fledging sprout of a reason to do more than simply be. It wasn't a life-changing revelation, not something so big and overwhelming as that, not great enough to wash away all the fear and horror that still clung to her, but it was enough to temper it. It was enough to give her space to breathe again for the moment.
It was enough to take her back to the bridge. It was even enough to see her through the rest of the day. It helped that Tazuna and his work crew had recovered admirably. With everyone else acting as if it were business as usual, it was easier to go through the motions as well. Part of her was grateful for this, while another part wanted the whole world to be as shaken as she was. But the latter was weaker and, with a touch to Masa's shemagh for reassurance, she found that the sun still traveled across the sky at the same pace it had this morning.
Eventually, it dipped toward the horizon and Tazuna and the others began to gather up their tools. And Sakura spoke to Kakashi-sensei for the first time since she'd returned from the clinic. "Why...why did it take you so long?" she asked in a low voice.
Kakashi turned his head to glance down at her. "I had to deal with some annoyances on the road. Gatō apparently didn't want to take any chances with survivors making it home."
Sakura made a soft, awkward sound of acknowledgement and then fell silent again. That was fair, she conceded when they'd made it almost back to Tazuna's home. Kakashi-sensei was a jounin, not omnipotent.
But the closer they came to the house, the more nervous she grew. Her hand kept creeping up to check the fold of the scarf and she began to drag her feet. Despite everything, she didn't want Sasuke-kun to see her like this. She hardly even liked him to see her when she was all flushed and sweaty from practice. Sakura had worked hard never to show him anything but her very best, most composed self.
Now not only was she filthy, her hair volume-less and lank, but Naruto was bound to ask questions. And if there was ever a double-edged quality, it was that he didn't know when to quit. Sakura couldn't think of a single moment in her life when she'd less felt like talking to anyone, let alone the blond irritation.
But when they came inside, after she'd dithered outside until Kakashi-sensei gave her a significant glance, she discovered that both of the boys had wolfed down an early dinner and basically collapsed. So there weren't any questions, just worried looks from Tsunami and curious ones from her son, and silence in the room she was sharing with her teammates. Judging by how little Sasuke-kun stirred when she came in after she'd had a chance to shower, both had been exploring their limits.
That was something she understood.
But even with a physical tiredness that was the equal of most anything she'd ever felt, she wasn't prepared to sleep. So she sat very quietly instead, cleaning the knives that had somehow come home with her. One was easy. She had all sorts of theoretical knowledge on how to get blood out or off of almost anything. The other was...more trying. In lots of ways.
In the end, she cut away the cord that had once bound the hilt and rubbed it down with a rag generously saturated with mineral spirits, which she had to borrow from Tsunami. There was nothing that could be done about the discoloration.
She was still staring at it when Kakashi-sensei came in the room, rubbing at his hair with a towel. He paused for a moment, but said nothing before settling himself comfortably in the doorway that led out onto the narrow veranda, pulling out that battered book of his.
For once, she didn't mind. Something in her had come to associate it with an absence of real danger.
It was only then that she noticed just how hard it was to keep her eyelids from drifting shut. And how her whole body seemed to be swaying forward when she wasn't paying particular attention.
She settled in to her futon, but she couldn't bring herself to complete the nightly ritual she'd carried out almost religiously from the moment she'd had an opportunity to spend a night in the same room as Sasuke-kun. Mouthing Good night, Sasuke-kun was a giddy little guilty pleasure that made her feel as if her day had gone well, no matter what had happened in it. One day, she was going to say it out loud. And one day, Sasuke-kun was going to say it back.
But today was different. She was, somehow, different. So she drifted off to sleep in silence.
[Kill Your Heroes]
Night terror was a word she'd heard, once or twice. And Sakura, like everyone, had had nightmares in her life. She'd thought she might have nightmares after today.
She hadn't expected for sheer fright to rip her up out of sleep, her heart galloping in her chest, her throat muscles seized so tight she couldn't force the scream building in her chest out. Sakura felt like she was burning beneath the heavy blanket, but when she tossed it off, the sudden chill bit at her like a knife. She was disoriented in the darkness of a room that was still strange to her, and she kept seeing movement where there wasn't any.
Sakura didn't reach for a kunai after she'd thrown off the blanket. That simple motion had seemed to exhaust her ability to act; all that was left was to set there and shiver. The room seemed so cold, but then, she'd been burning. Sweet dreams faded like cotton candy on the tongue, but this one dogged her with brutal persistence. This time, the chase had lasted longer. Those silver eyes had pushed her until she'd felt like her lungs would burst, until her throat burned from desperate gasps for air, until her whole side was a twisted cramp like a kunai digging into her side. And she'd just...given up, when she could take no more. Collapsed to the ground on her knees, sobbing. And then he'd come.
Step by ominous step, each sound unnaturally loud. And this time, it had been her that had burned.
It was only a dream didn't have its usual effect. She could only crouch there on her knees and elbows, fingers digging into her hair as her quick, shallow breathing made her lightheaded. She thought she was going to pass out, but then a hand came down gently on her head.
A familiar, warm hand.
"Sakura-chan." That was all. He didn't offer her any more words of comfort than that, but it was enough to stop her from hyperventilating. And he sat with her while the panic eased, until she'd recovered enough to lay back down and curl into an exhausted pillbug position.
He had to do it twice more before morning came, but if she woke either Naruto or Sasuke-kun, they never spoke. By her third episode, it was a far less violent awakening and the terror-induced paralysis had shifted to an urgent need to move.
Though her body complained of being badly rested, that impulse didn't disappear with the sunlight. It made her jittery, so much so that she was clumsy as a child with her chopsticks. It made her really glad that Sasuke-kun had been absent when she'd finally woken for the last time and Naruto was still snoring so loudly he was audible throughout the house.
When she'd finished eating, she looked over at Kakashi-sensei. His visible eye crinkled up in that familiar crescent. "You're with me today, Sakura," he said cheerfully. "Guard duty for the two of us."
Sakura brightened at that, though some part of her had known that now that Gatō had made it clear he wasn't going to wait for Zabuza to recover, Kakashi-sensei wouldn't be able to entrust her with Tazuna's safety any longer. But hearing him say it was reassuring. She shuffled off to get ready to leave with only the faintest edge of trepidation.
The knives were left beneath her pillow. She didn't have sheathes for them and they were too long for her standard kit. And she wasn't certain if she even wanted to ever use them again. But when she considered simply throwing them away, she couldn't do it. It was stupid, because they were only metal. And memories.
She'd had no such reservations about her tank top. It had been unceremoniously tossed into the burnable garbage and her red dress, which had been spared the fight, was once again her garment of choice. With Kakashi-sensei there, she doubted she would find herself walking upside-down beneath the bridge any longer. Masa's kindly given scarf looked a little strange with it, in a way it hadn't with the tank top, but she wore it regardless.
Night seemed far away, Kakashi-sensei was there, and Sasuke-kun hadn't seen her. And when they arrived at the bridge, it was almost as if it had never happened. The bodies were long gone and they'd cleaned up the worst of the mess of tar and sand yesterday.
Still, a restlessness plagued her as they patrolled the area. She kept expecting shinobi to coalesce out of the mist.
Kakashi-sensei must have noted her restlessness, because once he was satisfied enough to let the work crew onto the bridge to begin their day, he motioned to her to follow. She was surprised when he doubled back from the leading edge of the construction to the shore, where he led her down to the shoreline. They'd reinforced the area with large rocks before beginning construction, but it was easy enough for them to leap from rock to rock. With a new understanding of how her chakra could be used, not even the ones that had a developing layer of sludge were that treacherous.
Kakashi-sensei smiled at her when she met him at the bottom, where the sea was lapping gently at the rocks. "It'll probably be a little tedious for you today, if you were just doing guard duty. So, today, we're going to move on to lesson number two on basic ninja modes of movement. Water walking. You have all day and plenty of water," he said with an expansive gesture towards the sea. His smile deepened. "I'm sure you already know the theory. And if you don't, you can probably guess. All that's left is practice."