A/N: Three points: 1) I haven't actually seen Road to Ninja. Sakura's parents are effectively 100% OCs, but I hope you enjoy what I've done with them; 2) Flashbacks are not my favorite device, but I needed a quick way to introduce some characters and lay backstory. I promise it'll be fast; and 3) I often use Sasuke to set up conflict in my fics, but this is not tagged SasuSaku for a reason. Sensitive SS shippers should consider turning back.

Thanks for reading!

-o-

Chapter 2: Individuation

-o-

Four weeks earlier

"Pack up, kiddo! We're going fishing!"

It was that dream again—her favorite dream. Sakura smiled, eighteen years of life shining out of her face.

Her dad's reciprocating grin was ageless. Thirty-something years showed in the faintest laugh lines by his eyes, but no more. The number didn't square with her own age. No matter how many years this dream had recurred for, she always got older.

Her father never did.

"Clear skies today. Let's hurry before your ma catches us." With a wink, he grabbed her hand and began towing her toward the car, bright blue tackle box tucked under his other arm like a robin's egg.

She let herself be towed out of the shaded doorway and into the blazing sun, still smiling.

Sakura sat up with a gasp, hand flying to her chest. There was a hard plastic seat beneath her, the metro floor rumbling with speed beneath her sneakers, camera perched precariously on her lap. Something tugged at her memory—something important she had to do—but she put it aside firmly, taking a moment to just sit and recover from the dream.

She rubbed her face, still smiling. She loved her 'visits' with her dad more than anything, but was always afraid that each time would be the last. It had been such a long time since the previous dream—years, maybe. She wasn't sure how many. They were happy dreams and she treasured them, but there was a kind of sadness there, too. They never actually made it to the sea.

"The doors are closing. Please stand clear of the doors."

The tinny voice jolted her from her thoughts and to her feet. With a lurch in her stomach, she realized the train was already at Palo Alto Station. Her stop. Snatching up her camera and bag, she sprinted for the metro doors just as they were sliding shut, squeezing herself through.

She had to run for her bus in the outside terminal after that. There was some kind of cordoned-off construction going on in the middle of the concourse. She nearly tripped over the caution tape and tumbled into a hole in her hurry, but managed to pinwheel her arms around the danger.

She spared two seconds to consider what her mother's reaction to her bloodied face would have been when she arrived, but didn't think on it again.

-o-

"Blake, Tiny, you two lift while they slide the box spring under. Stand at ten o'clock and four o'clock—there—no, left. Blondie, Rich, posters on the walls, books on the shelves. Let's say alphabetically. No, by subject. Eric on break, back to the van with the rest of you. Breakables next. That's five minutes, Eric! I'm fuckin' counting."

"Ma."

Mrs. Haruno whirled, relieved smile at odds with her previous tone. "Sakura! Jesus, finally. Did you get off at the wrong stop?" Her smile stalled. "You should've just driven with us."

Sakura crossed her arms. "We had a deal! Sasuke wanted photos from the train for our project, remember? You weren't supposed to start unpacking without me." She noted someone shelving the last of her books with dismay, but made no move to stop him. It wouldn't have worked—they were all loyal exclusively to her mother. Back when her dad was still alive, Sakura used to lose track of who were actual blood relatives and who were employees of the family business, but at least she knew their names well enough to remember who was who at parties. However, since his death it seemed like their once-comically-large family had shrunk to nothing, dispersed and scattered far from the California coast. It had been just she and her mom for eight years now.

Mrs. Haruno had a way of scrutinizing a person as if trying to decide whether they were a prophet or a used car salesman. She turned the full force of that scrutiny on Sakura, leaving her daughter to wonder whether she'd gotten away with the lie about Sasuke. Though her boyfriend was an avid film collector, god only knew he never expressed more than tepid interest in the travel photoblog idea. Or, relatedly, the sailing-around-the-world idea, which was the really important one. Still, she figured that lying to one's mother was a healthy marker of growing up. Individuation or something.

Whether she was successful at it was another matter entirely.

Mrs. Haruno gave her a calculating look. "Our deal, which I stuck to, was about you taking the train here. It had nothing to do with waiting to move you in. If you're unhappy with the result, demand better terms next time."

She really didn't have anything to say to that, though she appreciated the sympathetic glance one of her mom's guys was throwing her way. Her eyes flickered to the door as she considered just walking out. As a relatively normal young adult caught somewhere between the desire to make her own life decisions and the desire to have everything work out to her advantage, she could rarely decide how to deal with her mother's somewhat overwhelming—but admittedly effective—interference.

She certainly hadn't asked questions when her name had jumped from Stanford's wait list over to its accepted list right before the enrollment deadline.

When her wandering gaze returned, her mom's expression had softened.

"Oh, kiddo," she said, sinking onto the bare mattress. "This was never what I imagined sending you off to college would be like." She raised her eyebrows at her guys, who promptly and efficiently vacated the room.

"Yeah. Me neither," Sakura acquiesced, deciding it wasn't worth the fight. She sat down on the mattress and peered at her mother's face. "I wish he was here too, ma."

Mrs. Haruno huffed, nearly rolling her eyes. She picked up Sakura's hand. "Oh, it's not that. He'd be happy for you. I'm more selfish than he ever was and I'll miss having you around too much. Also, I'll worry." She wiggled her butt against the bed as if to punctuate her thought. "This mattress sucks. How will you sleep?"

"I think I'll figure it out."

"Okay, but what about your car?"

"Frosh can't have cars, remember? Only sophomores—"

"Let me talk to the dean again. I'm sure we can arrange something that would let them make an exception, and it would help the school out finan—"

"Ma." Sakura mustered up her most serious face. "Please. Not even you can hold my hand from a hundred miles away."

"I get that, kid. I do. But there are things that you don't understand. Just—" She struggled to find her words before looking her daughter straight in the eye. "Safety first. Family before anything else. I promise to do everything in my power to keep you happy and healthy—even if you don't like it—and a Haruno always keeps her promises. Now you promise me not to do anything stupid that might jeopardize my efforts."

Sakura couldn't believe her ears. "I'm going off to college, not war!"

Mrs. Haruno laughed at this, but it was a little too dry. "Humor me."

"Oh my god. Okay, I promise not to climb electric poles in the rain. No cartwheels over broken glass. I will even restrain myself from sticking forks in the toaster." She stood abruptly, trying to brush off her mother's intensity as if it was physical dust on her jeans. "I'm drawing the line here, ma. Too many feelings before dinner."

Her mom's laughter was more relaxed this time. She held up placating hands before digging through a box at her feet. "Point taken. But, since I'm being excessively sentimental anyway—I want you to have this."

"This? Are you sure?" she asked, accepting the leather-bound photo album.

"Of course. I'll rest easier knowing you can look at it anytime. Not that you will. But still, it's good to remember that family—"

"Ma," Sakura warned.

"Okay, fine, we'll get out of your hair. Just as soon as I have Lonny repaint the walls."

"Ma!"

-o-

Sakura's posse left in a whirlwind of hugs, pats, and cajoling from her mom's guys, only one of whose names she was able to guess correctly.

Sitting up from where she'd been recovering on the bed, she barely had time to consider different ways to lure Sasuke into a FaceTime session before a key sounded in the lock. The door creaked open.

A glass-blue eye peeked in through the crack, accompanied by a stage whisper. "Are they gone?"

Sakura stammered out a response. "Um…?"

"Oh my god." The door flew open, slamming into the wall with a bang. A tall girl her own age burst in. "Dude. Your family is huge. And loud."

"I—well—yes," she acknowledged. She was uncertain whether the girl was being facetious or was simply unaware of the volume of her own voice.

The blonde paused in her venture into the room and stared. "Why are the walls purple?"

Sakura cringed. "I'm so sorry. I tried to make them do only my side, I can totally repaint it—"

The presumed roommate tilted her head to the side for a moment before shrugging, long hair sliding over her shoulder. "You know, I kinda like it. It's different. Yo, Shika, Naruto! Coast is clear!"

Sakura scrambled off the bed as two boys entered noisily, each carrying a stack of boxes.

"Where to?" the dark-haired one grumbled with audible reluctance.

"Stick 'em anywhere, I'll get to it later," the girl replied, turning back to Sakura. "I'm Ino." She offered a rather blinding grin.

Sakura returned a slightly shyer smile. "Sakura."

Ino jerked a thumb toward the boys. "This is Naruto and Shikamaru. We met while gawking at your family. They're down the hall in a triple with Shika's friend Chouji, number four-oh-two." Sakura noticed she dragged out the 'oh' just a little bit longer than necessary while eyeing Shikamaru.

Remembering herself, Sakura gasped out a 'yes, hi, nice to meet you—' before moving to take a box off Naruto's hands. "Let me help."

He shot her a grin twice as bright as Ino's. She squinted.

Some time later, Ino perched like a queen atop her bed, surveying her sea of boxes with satisfaction. "Ugh, finally! Anyone down for froyo?"

Her three sweating companions just looked at each other.

-o-

Living with Ino was easier than Sakura thought it would be. She could be a slob (two weeks into term and those boxes were still unpacked), but perhaps Sakura envied her utter lack of self-consciousness a bit. The girl could lay around in only a bra and sheet mask and leave their door open without batting an eyelash. On warm days, the two of them and the boys down the hall developed a habit of taking the bus downtown for frozen yogurt at a place called La Dolce Vita.

It was during one of these trips that Dr. Senju's name first came up.

"What...have I done..." Naruto whispered, face drained of color. He was staring at a syllabus, cross-referencing it with a thick text titled Organic Chemistry for Dummies. His yogurt melted in the heat, forgotten.

Shikamaru chuffed, shaking his head. "That's why freshmen aren't supposed to take it. Actually, no one should. The sciences are all troublesome, but O-Chem is infamous." He took a bite of his yogurt, already bored by Naruto's personal apocalypse. "Four years ago, two students died of exhaustion during finals because of it. At least, that's what the maintenance guy in our hall says."

Sakura scoffed. "And you believe him?"

Shikamaru just shrugged. "I guess you haven't met the Scarecrow yet. You'll see."

"Frosh are allowed to take it, it's just not recommended," Ino pointed out, bypassing the absurdity entirely. "You'd have to be crazy to take it on purpose. Or exceptionally stupid to take it by mistake." She raised an accusing brow at Naruto, whose posture mirrored the sweaty droop of his melting yogurt.

Chouji grimaced. "Well, at least Sakura and I will have it easy. Once we've got our gen eds done, it's business classes all the way to graduation."

Sakura smiled tightly and unclenched her fingers from her coffee. "O-Chem can't be as bad as everyone says. And economics classes are supposed to be tough, Chouji."

Ino picked up on the defensiveness in her tone immediately. "But they're a snooze. Why are you majoring in business, anyway?" Ino was proud of majoring in theater and eager to let everyone know it. Sakura, however, had never said two words about her major.

She shrugged uncomfortably. "Everyone knows it's useful."

In truth, Sakura had no real career plans of her own. Growing up, she'd kind of expected to inherit the family business eventually. Mrs. Haruno had strict rules against discussing work at home, however. By the time Sakura hit eighteen and still had no exact idea what her mom actually did every day, she inferred that any grooming to take over the company simply wasn't going to happen. She knew Haruno LLC was integral to Monterey's largest industry—hospitality—and that they owned a few restaurants and had partners in the insurance, imports, and technology sectors, but the details beyond such broad strokes were fuzzy. And every time she brought up the subject, her mother wriggled out of it.

Ino scoffed. "At least admit you're scared of failing."

Anger spiked through her, largely because what Ino said was perfectly true. She opened her mouth to respond, but Naruto interrupted:

"No. None of you understand." He tore himself away from the syllabus and looked up at them with eyes haunted by the promise of a thousand years of suffering. "This isn't just regular O-Chem. It's Professor Senju's O-Chem. And we're past drop/add week. I'm a dead man." He grabbed Shikamaru's shirt collar, looking wildly around the table. "Someone come with me! You're all smart, you have to help me."

Shikamaru wriggled out of Naurto's steel fingers. "No way."

Chouji shrugged helplessly.

Ino scoffed. "Sorry dude, we've all got full plates. But Sakura thinks she's pretty smart." Her smirk turned devious. "Maybe you should ask her."

Panicked, Sakura sent Ino a glare that promised retribution later that night, but it was too late. Naruto scooped up Sakura's hands and turned pleading eyes on her full-force.

"Oh god," she moaned, which he mistakenly took as acceptance. His relief was so vivid, she could hardly correct him. "One class, Naruto. And you'll owe me an open-ended favor."

Naruto had never been more thrilled to be in indeterminate debt.