It didn't rain, rather it poured, and Sakura felt distinctly like the world was mourning with her. Or at least embodying what she felt, she mused as she stood there, black umbrella lifted over her head to keep the downpour from soaking and freezing her, her free hand crinkling in the fabric of the black dress she wore. But that was just a silly thought – it wasn't like the Haruno Clan had actually been all that important in the grand scheme of things. They had just been civilians, a small cog in the grand machine which was Konoha, and the entire village ran on without them. The Haruno Clan had vanished just as they had lived: quietly and without a trace.
She doubted many would remember them in years to come, more so because there was now a gag order on the massacre of the Haruno Clan. It was like everyone wanted for the Haruno Clan to vanish – become nothing more than a memory for her and her alone. The thought made her hands curl into fists, knuckles bone white and stark against the already pale shade of her skin.
Ashes had been interred in each branch's grave, the markers of them lining up before her. Sakura felt her head swim at the sight, something cold settling in her belly at the thought that it wasn't a dream. Realisation stung, as did the gaping pit it opened up in her stomach. There was no coming back from this. There was no waking up from the nightmare she was now trapped in. It was no illusion cast upon her, and as such it couldn't be broken. It was her reality now. Her family and the rest of her clan were dead, and she was alone. Her against the rest of the world without any family to back her up and support her. She was all alone, and the loneliness burnt.
"Because you're weak," her brother whispered in her ear, and Sakura screwed her eyes shut, hating the tears which rolled down her cheeks.
"Shut up," she hissed, stomping her foot down, uncaring at the water which was splashed out with the movement. "Shut up – I'm not weak," she muttered, turning on her heels, hating the hair which prickled up on the back of her neck. It almost felt like she was being watched by the ghosts of her dead family members. Felt like she was being watched, judged, and measured and found lacking in almost every way which mattered. "I'm not," she mumbled, the words sounding so terribly feeble, the sight of the report card from the academy hanging memorably in the entranceway making her pause. It had always been there, in place of the ones which had hung there when her brother had been at the academy.
Sakura never fails to apply herself to her studies, numbering amongst the very top of her class in academics, however she is exceptionally weak when it comes to physical work – likely hindered by the fact she seems to be limiting her intake of calories in order to maintain a 'slim' figure, due to her infatuation with Uchiha Sasuke.
A ghostly chuckle echoed in the back of her head, and Sakura snarled at the words written in ink, taunting her like a visible brand of her perceived weakness and helplessness. Sakura didn't want to feel as helpless as she had on the eve of that night ever again. Especially not then. "Weak," her brother whispered. See – everyone agrees with him, part of her murmured, and Sakura felt her teeth clamp together, something hot and ugly pulsing beneath the surface of her skin. She had never really read through her progress reports properly before that instant. Her eyes flickered onto the floor, unable to stare at the words which might as well have been engraved into her retina by such a point. Or at least she had always dismissed those words before, telling herself that her teachers simply didn't understand why it was so important that she earned the favour and later hand of Sasuke.
"You thought that you knew better than your instructors?" her brother asked, laughing at her then, and Sakura clenched her teeth that much harder. She could hear it still, the mocking laughter of her brother, the ghostly sneering chuckle in the back of her head – in fact, if she really concentrated she could hear everyone she knew laughing at her in symphony. Ami sniggering at her and her forehead. Fuki cackling alongside her. Ino drawling mocking words. It was loud. Too loud—and she just wanted them to—
"Shut up!" she screamed, fist moving without any real conscious effort, slamming into the wall and the progress report it held. Silence reigned for a single moment before the pain reached her. Fingers trembled as she uncurled her fist, green eyes locked on her bloodied knuckles – the skin torn and weeping blood. All from a single strike which had barely left a mark, the report card still fixed to the wall, unruffled and unmarred, a single faint crack in the wall behind which Sakura was fairly certain had always been there.
"Silly Sa-chan," her brother sung, "It was like you thought punching a wall would change anything…"
Sakura turned on her heel, storming further into the house, slamming the door to the dining room open, making her way to the drawer in the corner where the first aid box was stored, stopping short when she spotted that it was already out on the table. Shivers rolled down her spine at that. Because she hadn't taken the first aid box out at all. There had been no need to do as such before she had gone and injured herself like the weak little girl she was.
Her gaze darted around all corners of the room suspiciously before she seated herself down on the ground, opening the box and reaching for the disinfectant her mother had always poured on her wounds before bandaging or plastering them up. It stung, but Sakura did her best not the flinch at that. She wasn't weak. She closed her eyes, willing the tears away. But you are, another part of her whispered, ever wanting to remind her of what everyone else said, and that familiar hot, angry feeling simmered beneath her skin. She wanted to break things. Express it somehow. So do it, that same voice purred, but Sakura only focused on bandaging her knuckles back up.
"You have to control yourself, Sakura-chan," she could remember her mother and aunt telling her on separate occasions, seemingly forgetting she was training to be a shinobi rather than leading a more civilian life like the both of them. "You are a girl, a woman, and we never resort to blows. If we must cut someone, we do so with words."
What a load of tosh, part of her hissed, something like a snake stirring from its nap, ready to strike. Anger simmered beneath her skin, and Sakura slammed her unbandaged hand against the table, tears leaking down her cheeks. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to tear everything in front of her apart.
"Control yourself."
The whispered words, an echo of her once family, had her turning, green eyes settling on the family photo set in the frame atop one of the small decorative tables. Her eyes narrowed, homing in on the caricature of her brother standing in the middle, a younger version of herself cosying up to him and smiling without a care in the world. A wordless snarl escaped her and she surged forwards then, undamaged hand clutching the frame and throwing it out into the garden, slamming the door shut behind it, unsure whether she hated the visage of her naïve, trusting self or that of her murderous brother more. She turned on her heel, gritting her teeth, anger not sated at simply throwing the photo outside, and her foot lashed out then, kicking at the table.
It flipped up and over with a loud thunk from the force of her kick, and Sakura found herself stomping on it again and again, a humourless grin stretching her lips. A chuckle echoed in her ears, even as the table gave out, cracking appearing in the ornate woodwork. She wasn't weak. The thought had her turning away from the mess which had become the dining room and storming upstairs to the familiarity of her room – stopping only to grab a ration bar for her dinner.
The next morning she came down to find the table repositioned where it usually was, not a sign of breakage in it even on the underside, and the first aid box safely tucked back away in its usual draw, and barely resisted the urge to scream.
Sleep was something fleeting to her, as was peaceful rest, or so she was finding out as the days of peaceful sleep with Ami and her group of bullies being the worst figures in her dreams became nothing but old memories.
Every time she closed her eyes she could see it. The scene of slaughter haunted her, and waking up and looking out of her window did nothing to help – if only because she could see that exact slaughter scene, only it was older and there were no corpses left there. There was only dried blood which even the rain hadn't seemed to be able to clean away, ever a reminder of the fact that blood had been shed that night and people – her clan, her family – had perished amidst it all. And for what? She didn't understand, and she was slowly coming to think that she might never understand it.
Sakura didn't like looking out of the window. Not since that night and everything that creature wearing her brother's face had done. Denial, something inside her hissed, and she felt her teeth clench even as she rolled over in her bed, partially revelling in how very quiet everything was. Everything was quiet to her by then. There was no noise except that of her own making, and she was ever so slowly getting used to it. She would have to live with that silence, she mused bitterly. After all, she had to stay there in the compound as the last Haruno. Hokage's orders and all.
But the Hokage was a smart man – and he was so much stronger than her. She was probably just a bit too stupid to see the reason for it.
Stupid and weak. Tears bit at the corners of her eyes. She really was just that, wasn't she?
The ghost of her brother laughed in her ears.
She thought she heard herself laughing along too.