Chapter 4
Chapter Summary
"Waves,
Just like a dream,
Silver and green,
We live in between,"
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sometimes there's too much in her brain. Sakura feels like she's being squashed, a fist wrapped around her mind, and sometimes she feels like there's so much stuffed in there that it hurts. Other times, the excess memories just seem to slip away, fading into the background. They're never gone, but sometimes they aren't quite there, constantly behind her eyes and bothering her with the vividness her memories have.
And sometimes it feels like they're both hers. Both the dream memories and her own memories.
Sometimes she can't tell where the line is, and sometimes the line is so solid she can easily - but briefly - forget that she even dreams like she does.
And then sometimes they snap back into the forefront so hard it's like a slap to the face.
She's nine years old, and tensions are higher than ever.
"War?" Sakura murmurs, looking over the desk at her father. She's just returned from a mission with a chūnin named Hikaru - a kenjutsu and taijutsu focused fighter that had worked pretty well in combination with her styles.
"Possibly." Her father confirms quietly, his chair half-turned so he can look out the windows behind him. The sky is blue and clear of any clouds, the sun shining down and making the distant ocean sparkle.
The peaceful beauty of it is completely at odds with the tension in the room. Possibly, his mouth says.
Definitely, her brain says.
"Father." She starts haltingly, looking blankly down at his desk. "How many years ago did the First War end?"
Her father pauses at that, glancing briefly towards her and frowning. "...Twenty one."
Sakura closes her eyes.
Twenty one years.
Suddenly, she all too vividly remembers sitting in a classroom and listening to a man with a scarred face tell them about the Second Shinobi War - which had started twenty three years after the end of the First.
"War." She repeats.
"Possibly." He repeats quietly. After a long moment, he turns towards her. "I'm sending you on another mission. B-Rank. You leave tomorrow - a three man party. It's important. You'll be meeting a messenger from Konoha at the border - Hikaru will go with you, since you worked so well together. I'm sending Unabara with you as well, for protection."
"Delivering or retrieving." Sakura asks blankly, mind still whirring at the resurfacing memories. The Second Shinobi War, and it's just around the corner.
And she only just remembered.
"Delivering. I need information. Sarutobi-sama will provide it." Her father says darkly enough that Sakura's gaze flickers to his, focusing at last.
"Dad," She says uncertainly, unnerved by the pensive and grim expression he wears. He holds her gaze steadily, not a hint of hesitation or uncertainty on his face. Just calm, unwavering grimness. She's at a loss for a moment, just staring at him, before she swallows thickly. "When do I leave?"
He reaches out and snags a scroll from his desk without taking his eyes off hers, offering it. "Eight in the morning. Go rest while you can."
She takes it with numb fingers and leaves, wondering what kind of dreams she'll be having tonight.
She doesn't dream about the war - but in the morning, she focuses her thoughts and remembers more and more.
The Second Shinobi World War. It started twenty-three years after the end of the First one, and lasted until the Five Great Nations had burned through their forces.
It had taken nine years of war for that to happen.
Nine years.
Sakura forces her worries away during the mission, but after they deliver the scroll and return to her father's officer, they return full force.
She finds herself in her room, alternating between anxious pacing and furiously scribbling down something else important she's managed to scrounge from her memories.
The War starts in spring that year, so nearly two full years away… no, closer to a year and a half…
"Uzushio." Sakura murmurs under her breath, closing her eyes and leaning forward against her desk.
Uzushio.
What had happened to Uzushio?
She thinks and she thinks but she can't remember ever learning about Uzushio in her dream-academy. But something had happened to it.
The blonde haired boy, Naruto Uzumaki, whose name had never seemed to trigger recognition. Uzushio's symbol etched on the back of every Konoha vest, something they hadn't had during her stay for the Exams.
Something had happened. She remembers that. Uzushio…
Uzushio had fallen.
But how?
When?
She can't remember, no matter how hard she tries. She can't remember anyone ever speaking about it - just Naruto's name and the symbol on the back of their vests.
Uzushio was gone. It had to have been. It's the only reason she can think of to explain no one speaking of it, but still respecting it via the carrying on of their symbol. A token of remembrance to the death.
But was it a token of shame or a sheer level of grief for them to never speak of them again.
What could possibly have happened to Uzushio that no one would speak of it?
What could possibly be so horrible that their closest ally, their brother country, wouldn't want to even remember them?
Sakura's ten when she finishes the seal. Her father is the first one she shows it to.
"Watch." Sakura instructs, reaching out to tap his forearm, sleeve rolled back to expose it to her. He observes with curious eyes as a small seal settles against his skin. "Er." Sakura blinks, then frowns a bit. "Cut yourself."
He arches a brow at the phrasing before he pulls up a kunai and goes for his forearm.
"No, no. Somewhere else. Away from the seal." Sakura says quickly. His brow arches higher and he reaches up to cut his cheek open instead.
Sakura concentrates, chakra flowing, and the seal against his forearm glows a soft green. The cut on his cheek seals shut, and it takes her father a moment to register - and then he stares at her.
"It works." Sakura announces, grinning as he continues to stare, blinking. Eventually, he looks down and turns his arm, examining the seal closely.
"This is…"
"Incredible work?" Sakura suggests brightly.
"Ridiculous." Her father decides instead. She frowns deeply at him. "Completely… utterly ridiculous." He says quietly, still staring at the seal. Finally he looks up at her, eyes wide. "Sakura, the- the sheer chakra control this must take. The sheer potential. The-" He blinks, eyebrows lifting. "This is why you want to learn the Yin seal."
"Oh, I already learned it." Sakura corrects him brightly. "It's forming. Give it another six months or so." Sakura shrugs lightly. "But, yes. I just used the Mystical Palm Jutsu through a seal." She proclaims smugly.
Her father stares at her.
"...Gods above. What have your mother and I unleashed." He asks weakly and Sakura rolls her eyes.
"Honestly, it's for healing. Don't be dramatic. I'm not taking over the world or anything."
"This is ridiculous." He repeats blankly. "Long distance healing. Through a seal."
"And I can do it on multiple targets, too." Sakura adds.
"Multiple… targets."
"Multiple. I'm going to the hospital after this and seeing how many I can heal at once. I need to practice if I'm going to be able to use this is combat, after all." Sakura considers, frowning a bit.
Her father blinks a few more times, and then his gaze slowly focuses on her. "In combat."
"In combat." She confirms, expression hardening as she meets his gaze. "War's on it's way, dad. I'd have to be blind not to see that." She tells him and his expression starts to harden, shock fading away at the grim reminder. "And I don't care if I'm your daughter. I don't care if you want to protect me. I'm going to be on the front lines, and I'm going to fight, and I'm going to do it while healing until I can't do both anymore. And then I'll keep fighting until I can't do that anymore. And then I'll go to sleep and start again the next day, and I won't take no for an answer." Sakura says very, very firmly.
She's dreamt a life of being on the sidelines, healing in the background and only fighting when she had no other choice. A life of watching others fight for her while she stayed back, to keep out of the way and to heal the fallen.
She'd been a healer and she'd saved lives. It wasn't a bad life, the one she dreamt, and nothing to be ashamed of - but it wasn't the life she wanted, then or now.
Sakura will never be on the sidelines to helplessly watch ever again.
Her father slowly nods, expression going soft. "There's that determination again. Your mother shining through." He says quietly, nodding again. "Very well, have it your way. But this is going to take all your chakra focus, even for you." He warns and it's her turn to nod.
"I know. I won't be able to use chakra for virtually anything else." She admits, lifting a hand to scratch at her cheek. "I was hoping, if you have the time to spare anymore with all this going on, that maybe you'd teach me some kenjutsu."
He offers her a tiny, sad but proud smile and nods. "Of course. We'll start tomorrow."
Sakura's eleven years old, four foot six, seventy pounds, and war is on the horizon.
She dreams of a life where she becomes a genin at twelve - but in this life, she becomes a jōnin at eleven.
"You've more than earned this, daughter." Her father tells her when he hands her the official papers. She accepts them with a small grin, pleased after a long mission out near the Land of Hot Water.
The smiles and joy are brief, fading away as her father's expression turns severe. He leans back against his desk, arms folded across his chest, and looks at her intently. "Sakura. You know by now that you're a genius - a genius that puts other geniuses to shame, frankly."
She might've preened at that if the man didn't sound so grim. Instead she stands up straight, brows furrowed slightly at the odd conversation, and listens.
"I've always known you'd succeed me, and time and time again you've proven that assumption to be a true one. One day you will be Uzushio's Village Head. You'll be their leader, and you'll need more than just your skill in combat for that role." He informs her severely.
The words should be good ones. Something to celebrate hearing. The idea of becoming what was effectively the Kage of Uzushio should fill her with joy.
But Sakura's never honestly wanted political power. Just the strength to protect what was hers to protect.
She closes her eyes, thinking about her dreams. About a boy with the name of a forgotten clan, a village that never so much as spoke of their brother country, and she thinks.
Uzushio was doomed to fall, and she has no idea how or why.
And then she thinks of that village falling itself. Of a massive crater sitting where homes once had, and a blonde haired woman standing defiantly in its center, giving everything she had and more just to keep her people alive.
And, well. That makes things pretty simple, doesn't it?
Sakura opens her eyes and looks at her father with an expression far more serious than any eleven year old should ever hold. "Where do we start?"
Sakura dreams, and in her dreams she lives a life very different from her own.
She lives in Konohagakure, the daughter of two simple living chūnin, the student of the Hokage herself, and the abandoned member of what had been Team 7. She's a chūnin herself and a good one, with basic skill in genjutsu and kenjutsu - and the mind of a genius when it comes to tactics and medical ninjutsu.
She lives a life as both apprentice and assistant to the Godaime Hokage, learning under her tutelage both shinobi skills and political skills.
In that, Sakura has an edge in her real life. She already knows the basics. She knows how to write reports, how to file papers, how to organize them, how to label them from C-Rank to S-Rank and even beyond. She knows how to stand there and listen as someone speaks, how to make herself inconspicuous and easily overlooked - or how to stare a man down and force them to choose their words with extra care as they speak to her Hokage.
And, perhaps most importantly, she knows from that life how to read a person. How to look into a man with the ease of flipping back the cover of a book.
She's eleven and war is mere months away when Hiruzen Sarutobi walks into her father's office and places himself under her searching gaze.
They exchange the barest of formalities and Sakura lingers back, watching as they settle down for tea. It appears almost casual, but it isn't. Sarutobi - the Sandaime, someone whom she'd respected and mourned in her dream life - isn't here for pleasantries.
He's here for war - and for once, the Konoha shinobi aren't very welcome in Uzushio.
Sakura doesn't remember learning this in her dream-life, but Konoha started this war. It was undeniable. The Great Countries had started to edge across the lines of the armistice that had ended the First War - but it was Konoha who had thrown the paper to the wind. All the countries had started shifting their forces into the territories of the minor countries, slowly inching their way towards the neighboring Great Countries - but it was Konoha who had skipped past all the subtleties.
While the other Great Countries had started taking missions a little too close to the borders for comfort, Konoha had taken missions directly over the borders.
As if they didn't even exist.
The last three years could easily be described as a cold war between the Five Great Countries - with all of them stretching the limits but none of them willing to be the ones to push it too far - but Konoha was bringing an end to that.
"Where will you stand, Akataki-sama?" Sarutobi asks quietly, holding his tea carefully as he peers across the table at her father. His hands are exposed, fingers loose around the cup, and his gaze is as steady as his grip is. He's confident.
He knows what her father is going to say.
Sakura's gaze flits to her father, who is outright ignoring his tea. His arms are folded, hands carefully tucked into his sleeves. Where Sarutobi's body language radiates open confidence to an almost challenging point, her father's shields him in tense distrust. His hands hidden, weapons no doubt inside his sleeves - but she and Sarutobi both know he isn't going to grab them. Her father does it only to show his disapproval, his reluctance.
But the answer is clear.
"Uzushio has always stood alongside Konoha, and Konoha alongside Uzushio." Her father says coldly and Sakura closes her eyes. "We will do so again."
She's eleven and the Second Shinobi World War is on the horizon.
And there's nothing she can do.
"Have you done as I requested?" Sarutobi asks her father the next day. Sakura lingers back and to the left of her father, a shinobi by the name of Akihito to his right.
"I have." Her father confirms, hand settling against his desk, fingers loosely twined together. "I had my shinobi spread out and search. We found three potentials - and one who, I think, will do best to satisfy your demands." He says mildly.
Sakura has no idea what the hell he's talking about, but holds her silence and observes as he reaches out to take a folder off his desk. He offers it to Sarutobi, who flicks it open and frowns softly.
"She's a direct descendant?" He questions in surprise, eyebrows lifting as he scans the papers within.
"Great-great-grandniece. The most direct you can have, considering." Her father offers with a shrug. "She's young, and almost impervious to the chakra."
Sarutobi just nods, tucking the folder under his arm and looking at her father. "And does she understand?"
"Of course not." Her father says bitingly, harsher than Sakura's ever heard him speak, but Sarutobi barely blinks at it. Whatever he's done to infuriate her father, he isn't ashamed of it. "The girl's six, almost seven. She barely understands what she's doing herself, much less what's being done to her. You can have the honors of teaching her exactly what's going to happen. Take her and go, Sarutobi - and never ask something like this of me again." He says harshly.
Sarutobi stares at him, a faint flicker of regret across his expression before he nods sharply. "Very well. Have her meet me at the gates at dawn."
"She'll be there." Her father says dismissively, already scooping up a pen and looking down at the paperwork on his desk.
She's never seen her father so angry or so blatantly rude before, but Sarutobi seems impassive to it, simply turning and leaving. The second the door shuts behind him, her father drops the pen and lifts both hands to his eyes. "Gods." He exhales harshly.
Sakura bites her lip, looking over at Akihito - but the jōnin's expression is blank, aside from a slight downward twist to his lips. "Father?" She questions, and the man huffs softly, dropping one hand to his desk while the other cradles his forehead.
"I just sent a six year old to Konoha as a war token, Sakura." He says quietly, more tired than angry now. He lifts his head, turning to her with a bone-weary expression, and her heart aches a bit for him. "A six year old girl, condemned to a miserable life as a human weapon. This war hasn't even started yet and I'm already having to do things I regret." He murmurs, eyes haunted.
That night, Sakura dreams of an Uzumaki boy with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and a bubbling red chakra that burns away even his own flesh.
Chapter End Notes
I don't mean to portray Sarutobi in a bad light. I'm going off of what little we know canonically about the Second Shinobi World War and the fact is, we don't know all that much. Nagato claims Konoha started the war, and I'm working off that theory. Sarutobi wasn't a bad guy, but he WAS a military leader, and all we're seeing here is his military stance on things.
I'm sure the guy was torn up inside about the whole 6-year-old soon-to-be Jinchūriki think, going off what we know of his character. But he probably wouldn't have shown that to a foreign leader, after all.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Things are only picking up from here!