The girl in the mirror was unfamiliar to her.

She had pink hair and green eyes which looked as lifeless as she felt. Her hair had been brushed and tied back in a low ponytail with a simple hair tie. She had buried the red ribbon her brother had gotten for her deep within one of her drawers, never to see the light of day again. The usual red of her shirt made her seem to pale, and it was too much like the colour of blood for her to feel comfortable. The replacement black long-sleeved sweater undoubtedly washed her out more, but Sakura didn't really care for how she looked.

Appearance was hardly a big deal in the grand scheme of things, and she had more important things to worry about than how she looked. Like getting stronger and stronger until her brother no longer haunted her nightmares. The same nightmares which had created the bluish coloured bags beneath her eyes.

The girl in the mirror wasn't the girl who had gone to the academy a couple of weeks ago, bright-eyed and cheery. The girl in the mirror didn't have her clan with her anymore either, though, and Sakura could only grit her teeth, curl her hands into fists, and fiddle with the hem of the long green shorts she wore at the reminder.

"You look pretty, Sa-chan. I told you that green would bring out your eyes," her brother whispered, never to be forgotten, and Sakura only stared at herself in that mirror and the girl who looked back at her flatly with glassy, almost hollowed green eyes; the bluish bruise-like marks beneath her eyes making her look that much more ill. "Do you think your precious Sasuke-kun will look at you now?" Her teeth ground together at the thought, eyes averting themselves from the familiar stranger in the mirror. It wasn't like Sasuke-kun mattered in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't like Sasuke-kun could bring her clan back to life. It wasn't like Sasuke-kun could or would ever hug her and make everything vanish and go back to normal.

Nothing could make things go back to the way there were. Death was, after all, irreversible. Not that Sakura wanted to linger long on such thoughts. All she wanted was to get to the academy that morning and sink into the obscurity she had so hated when she was last there. Though that felt like a lifetime ago. It was almost terrifying how quickly things could change in a matter of weeks – but that was a topic of thought for another day.

She needed to get to the academy.

Not that her feet really wanted to take her there. Yet nothing was going to change on its own, she had learnt over her time spent reeling in the aftermath of death and pools of blood. She had to do it all herself. Everything. Her feet tracked a path through the main courtyard, eyes finding the darkened, forever stained patch of land where she had lain in a pool of congealing blood for hours on end.

It wasn't like going to the academy would be as bad as what she had seen that night, she reassured herself. It wasn't like her brother was going to be there. Sakura didn't know if she felt miserable or angry at the thought of that man being there after everything he'd done.

The hustle and bustle of Konohagakure seemed to hit her the minute she stepped out onto the road, hairs rising as she walked down the street, feeling as though she stuck out like a sore thumb. She could feel eyes on her, hear muted whispers, the name Haruno on people's lips even though they knew nothing about what had happened. Sakura rather wished they would shut up and let her pass through, unheeded. She hunched down, shoving her balled up fists into her pockets as she sped up her pace.

Almost longingly, she watched the rooftops, staring at the shinobi who jumped over the tiled surfaces. She wished she could be one of them – after all, people rarely seemed to look up. But maybe that would mean more people would gossip about the Haruno Clan and what exactly had happened to them for the Hokage of all people to enforce a gag order.

It had to be something terrible, like treachery or selling village secrets, something of that magnitude, some said, and Sakura could only grit her teeth and continue walking.

If you ripped out their tongues, then they wouldn't be able to talk – they wouldn't be able to lie, part of her whispered, and Sakura shivered at that. She could still remember the blood from injuries like that. She could still remember the scenes of that night. She couldn't remember when thinking of that scene and the blood had become such a normality for her. If they were dead they wouldn't be able to talk either, that same part of her which hungered for something hissed. Her fingers twitched in her pockets, unravelling from the white-knuckled fists they'd been curled in only moments before. Pale fingertips met her gaze as she pulled them from her pockets.

Part of her wondered what they'd look like covered in the blood of her enemies rather than the blood of her family. Part of her howled and hungered in the depths of her mind – for what, Sakura wasn't entirely certain.

Stupid, a voice jeered in the back of her head. She was far too stupid to know what she wanted; what she hungered for.

Sakura only hoped the answer would come to her in time – because with time came change, and she had learnt that the hard, painful way. Then – maybe then – she wouldn't be so stupid anymore. A smile curved at her lips at the thought, her face feeling strange and awkward at the expression which felt so much more stiff and jagged than the smiles she had once smiled at him. The smile left her face as quickly as it had appeared, feet having already led to her destination.

Silently, the academy loomed in front of her, its presence suddenly that much larger and more imposing, and Sakura wanted nothing more than to vanish before it. Yet she had made the decision to go back – to grasp at some of that older normalcy – to try and become that much stronger so no nightmares would ever plague her again.

Others passed her by as she paused in front of the building, something like nervousness coming to claw at her stomach as she tried to prepare herself for it all. Her classmates knew nothing. Part of her wondered if anyone had really taken a note of her absence. She wondered if any of them really cared.

She doubted it.

"The bed you made," her brother murmured, and Sakura could only muse on how much of a failure she was in comparison to him. She wasn't on good terms with her classmates. She wasn't a genius. She wasn't good enough. She was never enough.

And sitting around here is going to change what, stupid? that voice in her head hissed.

Her eyes narrowed, hands curling back into tight fists before she shoved them back into her pockets. She wasn't just going to stand there and do nothing. She wasn't going to be like the girl she had been on that night. Better. She was going to be better than that. She had to be.

The hairs on the back of her neck were still raised as she walked through the corridor, eyes feeling like they were burning her skin even as she kept her eyes on the ground. They didn't know. None of them did. It was an odd thought. Part of her almost felt like she was trapped in a dream; laughter ringing in her ears as she walked past everyone. Only that laughter wasn't all in her head. Rather, it came from the other children all around her as they ran past her, some younger, some older, and Sakura could only stare in confusion.

Weeks ago she had been one of them, but that was neither here nor there, and she had a class to be getting to. Her feet remembered the way, and all too quickly she was sliding open the door and peering inside the classroom. Most of her classmates were already there – well, all of the girls that was. The boys who were either lazy or had a habit of truancy weren't there as of yet.

Sakura was grateful for that. She wanted peace and quiet, and Naruto – the boy who had been eerily obsessed with her for ages – was not quiet. He was annoying, and he didn't seem to understand that no meant no. She didn't want to deal with him or any other boy.

"I thought you were smart," Shikamaru's voice echoed in her brain.

Idiot, part of her whispered, echoing the sentiment.

She bit her lip, blinking as Iruka-sensei turned, dark eyes settling on her small form. "Sakura-chan," he remarked, and Sakura gritted her teeth, hands clenching inside her pockets at the pity and concern she could see plastered across his face. She didn't want pity and concern. She wanted strength and the power to rip her nightmares to pieces and stomp all over them with her own two feet. She wanted to claw her way to the top – towards that unobtainable title of genius, and shunt everyone who stood there off the pedestal they sat on.

You know who the genius of this class is, don't you? that part of her enquired slyly, and Sakura swallowed harshly at that, letting her eyes roam the room and settle on the boy she had, up until a couple of weeks ago, been fawning over. And for what? the voice in the back of her head asked her, and for the first time in a while, Sakura was stumped for answers.

Uchiha Sasuke was a genius; second only to her in the written work.

"Another paper shinobi for the tower, don't you think?"

The casual, caustic comment of an older shinobi about her came to bite then. She refused to remember the refute to that which mentioned that man and his relation to her – after all, if he was a genius then why wouldn't she be. Ever a disappointment. Her hands curled up that much tighter in her pockets, even as Iruka-sensei came over. "I trust you're feeling better now?" Iruka-sensei spoke, smiling plaintively at her even as she stared back at him blankly.

"I'm fine," she muttered, blinking in confusion at Iruka-sensei's uneasy expression at her words.

Lies.

Sakura gritted her teeth at the whispered hiss in the back of her mind. She was fine. She had to be. She was fine enough to attend class. She was fine enough to get stronger. There was nothing else she could be but fine.

"I… uh, see, Sakura-chan. Go and take a seat. I trust you've kept up with what we were covering in class while you've been ill," he murmured, and Sakura blinked once more – coming to the realisation that Iruka-sensei wasn't in the know about her clan. She wondered who would really care about the fate of a civilian clan in Konohagakure.

Then again, academy teachers weren't particularly high up the chain of command. And they gossiped like preteen girls off shift, or so the rumours went. The fate of the Haruno Clan was an S-Rank secret, enforced through the usual procedures for that. Though Sakura had no idea what those procedures were. Not that she really cared about it. All she had to do was not talk to anyone about her clan or her brother. Nodding, Sakura went off, climbing up the steps, gaze flickering over Uchiha Sasuke to find a seat closer towards the back. People tended to pay less attention to the back. Something which lent towards the slackers and pranksters of the academy gravitating in the direction of the area.

But there were some spots which were quiet – like the spot next to bug boy: Aburame Shino. She had long since learnt the names of all her classmates. Good practice, that man had called it. He had known all the names of his comrades.

As expected of your brother.

Quietly, she slunk into the seat beside him, closer to the walkway than she would have liked. She didn't want to be bothered by anyone. The seat she was in was hardly some place nobody would be able to get to her at. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want to hear Ino call her Forehead when she couldn't be bothered to call her a pig. She didn't want to be bothered. All she wanted to do was get through the day, riffle through the academy's sparse library, and then find a place to train for a while before returning home hopefully well before evening.

She didn't want to hesitate in front of the gates again. She didn't want to feel that well of dread and fear. It was illogical and stupid. It wasn't like that man would actually be back in the compound like nothing was wrong. Despite how her traitorous heart leapt at the thought of not being alone in the big, empty compound.

You ought to get used to it, that voice in the back of her head muttered, and Sakura stared down at the board blankly, ignoring the gaping chasm of dread and fear which opened up in her stomach at the idea of being alone forever. Though she'd probably get used to it.

She had to.