Raw, pruned fingertips stung even as she wringed the waterlogged cloth over the bucket.
The stench of blood and death burned the back of her throat, the taste of salty tears and snot greeting her whenever she opened her mouth to take another breath. "Why?" she hissed, questioning her brother and herself right then and there. What deluded state had she been in to think that cleaning out the kitchen would be an easy task? But it was a task which had to be done.
Why? another part of her demanded.
Obviously she had to clean. There was no mother to do that for her. In fact, her mother had died there, and it was her dried blood that she was cleaning up right then and there. The reminder brought a fresh set of tears to her eyes. Cry-baby, part of her hissed, and something dark and violent twisted inside of her at that and she slammed the cloth back down on the ground and kept scrubbing at the hardened dark stain on the kitchen floor.
She wanted it gone. She didn't want to have to stare at it and smell it day after day, and after days of trudging around the house doing nothing more than eating, sleeping, and crying whilst doing her academy work she had come to the realisation that the only way to get rid of the stains and the sights would be to clean it up herself. Nobody was coming to help. She was on her own. Alone. Unwanted. Forgotten.
"If you want a job done right, then you had best do it yourself." Her mother's old saying flitted through her head, and she gritted her teeth at that. There was that reminder that there was no one left to help her with anything. The Hokage's orders had ensured that much, but then again, the village was more important than her dead, civilian clan.
"Your brother will take care of everything whilst we're away," she remembered her father saying once, when her parents had ventured off on a business trip of some sorts to acquire some sort of material for whatever project they were working on. She remembered how her brother had taken care of everything so efficiently and carefully while they'd been away. "As expected."
She was the one who'd had to be looked after, like she was delicate and incapable of looking after herself. Hairs on the back of her neck pricked, the distinct feeling of being watched coming to haunt her then. It probably didn't particular help that she felt like she was actually being haunted. It felt like they were still there, still watching her, still demanding something from her. What it was, she had no idea.
Maybe to stop being so pathetically weak? part of her whispered, and she wringed the cloth out once more, squeezing it viciously at the reminder of what she was.
"Weak," her brother purred in her ear. "Come now, Sa-chan. Say it with me."
Anger coiled in her belly like a serpent ready to strike, burning – always burning by then – like a wildfire which spread and struck. She stood abruptly, having set the best chemicals down to soak in and hopefully lift the stains as best as possible. Her feet thudded against the floor, loud and furious as she delved into her stuffy room. She hadn't opened the window in a long while. She didn't want to see the outside. She didn't want to look upon that ruined courtyard which would forever be marred by him and his actions.
Instead, she buried her head in her blankets and screamed her frustration.
"Helpless little Sa-chan," her brother mocked. "You can't do anything yourself, can you?" he purred, the words rattling around in her brain, and her hands curled into fists at the thought of her flesh and blood sibling. The one who had murdered their family, and for what?
"Shut up," she hissed, anger bubbling over in her belly, fury making her feel the need to do something. Anything. "I'll be better than you in every single way," she muttered, fingers twisting in the fabric of her blanket as something ignited within her.
"Better than me, Sa-chan?" her brother mocked in that cold voice of his.
Well, another part of her mind drawled, they do say that spite is an excellent motivator…
Laughter echoed in her ears, some of it mocking, another part of it promising something in its tone as the cackles rang out in her ears amidst the pulsing throbbing of rage beneath her skin. Sakura pushed herself to her feet, the weight of the promise she had just spoken aloud making her feel that much heavier. Like there were suddenly a thousand dead eyes fixed upon her and judging her worth once more. She swallowed thickly at the thought, hands clenching as she left her room just as quickly as she had arrived in it.
Her feet brought her to where her dinner was, and she tore into the ration bar for all of five minutes before she ventured off to find the scroll she had been given when she had first entered the academy. One of the few scrolls she had rarely studied because it involved exercise, and before she'd had a brother to watch over her and teach her things she didn't understand. Her chest throbbed for a moment at the thought, and then the burning rage in her stomach boiled up, ridding herself of that painful ache. Of the gaping wound her brother had left her with in the metaphorical sense. Her brother wasn't around to keep on teaching her.
He never would be again, and Sakura was glad for it.
Her brother was a murderer. A kin slayer who had undoubtedly revelled in the deaths he caused. A ghost who lingered over her, despite him being alive and well and far, far away from her. A phantom she had to chase, if only to make that snide, cutting voice in the back of her head shut up. Something she had to overtake, if only to get rid of those nightmares, because getting rid of the source of them… that would get rid of them, wouldn't it? It would make the voices shut up and the spectres haunting her would leave then… Sakura swallowed, saliva thick in her throat as it bobbed. If she got rid of her brother… If she was the one holding him by the throat the next she saw him…
Something in her stirred at that, a hunger rising within at the idea of that thing wearing her brother's face being gone.
Fear stole through her at that. "You really think you can manage that, Sa-chan?" her brother whispered, and Sakura swallowed thickly.
Tears burned in her eyes and anger burned in her belly, a conflicting storm of emotions raging about within her. "No," she murmured. Of course she would never be able to do that. She wasn't like her brother. She wasn't good enough. She wasn't brave enough. She simply just wasn't. She never had been, and she doubted she ever would. Wanting to become better than him in every single way – that was a laughable dream, and she could already hear the mocking laughter ringing in her ears.
Rolling over and hiding already? something in her whispered, and Sakura felt her teeth clench as she pressed her face into the nearest cushion and screamed once more. She hated it all – the place she now lived, the emptiness, the burning feelings inside her, the helplessness she felt, and the confusion of it all. She felt… lost. A ship cast adrift at sea without anchor or the promise of safe harbour with a storm on the horizon beckoning.
A scroll found its way into her hands, and gingerly, Sakura unfurled it, revealing its contents. She wasn't good enough, that Sakura knew, and she probably never would be. But she'd be damned if she ever felt as helpless as she had on that night. Fingers ran over her throat, shivers running down her spine at the memory of being held aloft. And the fact she'd been able to do nothing about it. Her jaw clenched, anger and rage burning within, but unlike the other insidious feelings which had been buzzing about her like flies, they weren't directed at that man. Rather, they were directed at herself.
She hated being weak.
"So you finally admit it?" the whispered voice made her hands curl into tighter fists, nails digging into the soft skin of her palms. "Weak little Sa-chan…"
She could hardly deny it – not when the memory of that hand closed around her throat, choking her, was still so very fresh and vivid in her mind.
Then you'd best do something about that, no? the voice in the back of her head muttered, and Sakura agreed. Green eyes roamed over the scroll in front of her, greedily taking in the images of the basic exercises that were given out to civilian students. It wasn't much. Barely anything compared to what clan heirs and scions received. But it was all she had. So she would use it to her heart's content.
She would have to visit the academy library to see if there was anything else she could learn, she mused, ignoring the gaping chasm of dread the thought of returning to the academy brought to her mind. The thought of the stares, the questions, and the mocking laughter she could still hear ringing in her ears. She couldn't stand the thought of anybody noticing that her brother – that man – not coming by to pick her up anymore. Because he was a traitor. A murderous traitor. One who had betrayed her and the rest of their no longer existent family. She couldn't stand the thought of not being able to tell them that he was just that and make them shut up and stop talking about that man.
"Sakura-kun, the massacre of the Uchiha Clan has been the talk of the village for weeks," Shikamaru's words flitted through her brain, and a giggle escaped her at the thought that nobody knew. Nobody knew the fate of the Haruno Clan. Nobody would ever know, so long as the Hokage had his way. Sakura didn't know whether to be grateful for being spared the pitying looks, or angry at the fact that nobody would ever know or care about the Haruno Clan.
They weren't like the Uchiha Clan which everyone was fawning about losing. Something ugly stirred in her gut at that and the thought of the only Uchiha she knew. Her lip curled, bandaged knuckles slamming into the ground as an outlet for the loathing that rose at the thought of a black-haired boy who had never given her the time of day before. And to think on that day she had been so busy brooding about some stupid boy when her family had been getting murdered.
Her knuckles ached, and Sakura only blinked at that, having been expecting more of a stinging burn. Curious, she peeled back the bandages, wrinkling her nose at the stench of them. She should have changed them earlier, especially after all the cleaning work. Yet the cleaning chemicals hadn't stung her healing wounds and she'd forgotten.
"Bad form, Sa-chan," her brother purred, and Sakura scowled. He probably would never have forgotten to change his bandages no matter what. He'd always been better than her, after all.
"Huh," she mumbled, staring at her hands then. Obviously the cleaning chemicals hadn't stung on her wounds because there weren't any. They'd already healed, and Sakura only scowled harder at how she'd messed up the dates. He wouldn't have done anything of the sort. But she wasn't him and Sakura could only grit her teeth at the reminder of her incompetence as she rolled up the scroll and tucked it under her arm as she went to go and find a safe, large enough space in which to practice in.
Things were going to change, and her weakness was one of them.