Please Read
This chapter is about war. It is ugly, terrifying, and realistic. It sets the tone, and highlights the savagery of the Warring States Period. Unless otherwise noted in the future, this will be the most violent chapter. Everything afterward is tamer, and much more focused on what happens at the Uchiha base.
Heed the warnings. I do not pull punches.
If you also follow To Duel With Fate, you might be interested to know that the Sakura in this fic is more mature. I am still updating that fic, so don't despair. However, this version of Sakura isn't as highly trained as canon Sakura. She is a product of the time period. In this era women are utilized less as shinobi and more as care-takers and mothers out of necessity.
Itachi is "good" in this fic. Madara and Izuna are a thing of nightmares.
Rated M for Violence/Gore, Angst/Tragedy, Heavy Non-con & Dub-con.
It won't seem like it, especially after this first chapter...but it does have a surprisingly sweet ending.
Roster
Additional characters in this include Itama Senju, Ino Yamanaka, Shisui Uchiha, Sasuke Uchiha, Izumi Uchiha, Hashirama Senju, and probably more.
The tent canvas rippled rhythmically at her back, in time with the steady cool wind. A chorus of crickets drowned what would have been an otherwise quiet night. Singing their supremacy the few hours they were permitted, into the early morning. The tall grass hissed, blades bending and swaying in waves of dark, muted shadows around their isolated camp.
Social as she may be, this was her favorite hour.
The groans of pain and delirious cries were muted. Bound to replace the crickets by daybreak.
At this hour, the number of times someone called her name, asked her a question, demanded an update, or requested her assistance were…fewer.
Never zero. Not since their senior field medic was unceremoniously relieved of his head in battle, leaving her with the sole burden of healing the wounded shipped back from the frontlines.
They had become targets, recently. Once regarded as untouchable to honorable shinobi, they were often left unmolested in the midst of bloodshed, as they posed no imminent threat.
Times had changed.
The leadership of the Uchiha had changed. Coincidence? She didn't think so.
As a result, she was ordered to stay behind, and deal with the bodies that actually managed to make it back to her.
Where were the frontlines, this time? She forgot. It changed so frequently, was there even a point in keeping track? As the years passed, she returned to that thought more and more, and was beginning to care less and less.
What if there never was an end…
"Sakura,"
The scent of the curry reached her before the sound of her name. Neither earned a turn of her head as she remained fixated on the dark tree-line surrounding them. A thick band of dense, impenetrable shadows that guarded the wide open field serving as the temporary home to her adopted clan.
Or shrouded them from the dangers within.
"Finally calling it a night?" The voice of her childhood friend reached her in a near whisper. Careful not to stir the columns of bandaged Senju sprawled on cots mere feet away. The flimsy tent did little to insulate sound.
"No…" She replied gently. Defeated, but accepting of her relentless responsibilities.
"Just a short break. I need to do an inventory on supplies."
"Isn't there an assistant for that sort of thing?" Ino probed naively, the bowl of curry steaming between her hands as she held it close to her chest. A waning source of warmth in the chilly air. Its absence would be missed.
"There was…until I received a promotion."
"...Oh. Right." A sheepish laugh followed, and Ino felt a pang of guilt.
Sakura didn't begrudge her. Sometimes she laughed about it, too. Sometimes laughing was the only thing that kept her sane when she was overwhelmed.
The bodies piled faster than she could mend them, on the worst days. The ones she did manage to heal merely returned to war after a day or two of pitiable downtime. Hardly long enough to be worth anything.
Just long enough to procreate, in an effort to replace their fallen brothers.
It was an unspoken truth that made her sick.
"Here, eat this. I'll work on the inventory, okay?"
The bowl nudged her arm in offering with a pair of chopsticks resting on top. Sakura regarded it reluctantly. It smelled good, that wasn't the problem. The gesture was undoubtedly kind. Both of them were. She simply didn't have the appetite.
"Thank you, Ino," The bowl slipped out of the blonde's waiting hands with a grateful nod of her head. She would force herself to eat. It was the least she could do. "But I will finish the inventory myself. It won't take long."
Her pink lips flashed a smile in the moonlight. Brief and appreciative. Ino knew it was a show. Something to placate her, but she didn't push.
Instead, she sighed in resignation and crossed her arms over her chest. Rubbing her hands over the cream fabric of her upper arms as a gust of wind swirled around them. Billowing their long robes to join the flapping tent canvas.
With a mouthful of rabbit meat and vegetables bulging into her cheek, Sakura returned to gazing at the murky tangle of trees, and the ever-changing shades of blue undulated like an ocean as the tall grass continued its dance between them.
"Get some sleep soon, okay?" A quick, consoling rub between her shoulder blades paused her chewing. Sakura glanced sidelong, watching the long pale ponytail sway like a pendulum as her friend moved on. Making her way to the lonely bed that awaited her. The thing Sakura wished she could be doing.
It was hard to believe 18 years had passed so quickly. Harder to believe they both managed to slip through the greedy, demanding fingers of marriage and inevitable childbirth. An impressive feat for their ambitious time period. Deep down, she sensed her solitary days were numbered. There was an unfair leniency granted to them, being 'outsiders', but it would not last forever.
They were both picked up by Butsuma Senju at an early age, having narrowly survived the carnage that swept through their small village and claimed most of its lives, including their own parents'. The destruction hadn't even been meant for them. They were simply in the way. Another casualty of war...
Regrettable, but not enough to stop him from letting it happen.
Was it a sense of remorse and duty that compelled their Senju leader to take them in, or something else? When she hit her teens, and began to grapple with the harsh reality of their world, she lost faith in his intentions. Ignorance swept away in the face of the cyclical violence and vengeance the Senju and Uchiha reaped on one another. She could no longer see a difference between them, outside of their unique strengths and abilities.
They were opposite razor edges of the same, bloody sword. Most uniting of all was their refusal to surrender, under any circumstances.
War cost lives. Many lives. Those lives needed to be replaced. She would know better than anyone. A task of being the medic was pronouncing the death of those she couldn't save, and she'd done enough of that for one lifetime already.
She was just another broodmare, in the end. They could dress themselves up with whatever occupations and titles they fancied, but the reality was simple. There were two roles to be filled: the weapon, and its manufacturer. She was destined to be the manufacturer.
She could argue about which was a worse fate, but in truth, there were no winners.
The scent of stale sweat, blood, and medicinal herbs returned as the tent flap closed behind her. Wooden chopsticks ticked softly against the bowl. Scooping another bite of food while she wove through the sleeping men to a long, cluttered table at the back.
"That smells good." A raspy voice came from behind. Brown eyes peaked open, following the swish of dark green robes passing him by.
She knew that voice. It belonged to one of her most frequent visitors, Butsuma's youngest son. About her own age. The one who stood out like a sore thumb with his dark brown and white hair. He was a professional at getting injured, but there was something to be said for his determination. No matter how many times he fell, he always got back up.
Sakura's head poked into view above him as she leaned over, watching him a bit critically. Like his mother used to, only…kinder.
"You already ate, Itama. Shouldn't you be asleep?"
The weak smile was her only answer. Creased eyes, heavy with exhaustion gazed back.
The way she peered down at him, he could tell she was thinking about something. Weighing a decision or two. He never expected it to end with her chopsticks swiping a hunk of meat and dangling it above his face.
Eyes widening slightly, his mouth opened hastily to catch the food as it dropped. There was a faint gag as it smacked against the back of his throat, followed by a gargled laugh. A reflex he instantly regretted, as it brought a stab of pain to the healing wound in his abdomen.
"Thank you… You shouldn't work so much."
She heard his chaffed voice again as she resumed her journey to the back of the tent.
"I'll stop working when you stop trying to die." Her snarky whisper retorted. He gave up with a sigh, letting his eyes fall shut while he savored the piece of meat.
A careless sweep of her arm made just enough room in the clutter for the bowl to sit. She took another quick bite, and rested the chopsticks on top to survey the mess on the table. Piles of scrolls, bandages, ointments, mortars and pestles, and other odds and ends were scattered all over the place. Lately she barely had the time to make preparations with the supplies she did have on hand. Organizing and taking stock hadn't even made the list.
A hand raided a hidden pocket inside her robe, unreeling a cream and gold cloth tasuki to ripple through the air. She wedged one end beneath her underarm, scooping up the long sleeve. It crossed her back diagonally, looped around the opposite shoulder, and crossed her back a second time to loop the original shoulder and meet its starting point. The ends tied together in a loose knot, keeping the emerald fabric out of her way while she set to work.
It couldn't have been 30 minutes in when her eyelids began to burn and weigh down. It was halfway to sunrise now, and she would be lying if she denied how tired she was. Tired enough for imaginary noises to snag her attention.
A sound echoed in the distance. Shrill and haunting enough to pierce above the crickets, but fleeting. So quiet and obscure, it mimicked the phantom hallucination of an overworked mind. It wouldn't be the first time.
Yet this one struck a chilling cord in her spine that she couldn't explain.
She paused for only a second, then grabbed another scroll to add to the pile she was sectioning off at the end of the table.
Another sound, this one louder than the first. Closer. Distinct enough that it forced her to acknowledge the scream for what it was.
Sakura's blurry eyes stared through the cylindrical parchment in her hand, listening. First thought grasping the most obvious explanation. There was another injured shinobi being escorted to her tent…and he was about to wake up the rest of them. A touch of resentment spoiled her mood, realizing her long-awaited rest was about to slip through her fingers yet again. Then came the guilt, for having such a feeling at all.
" Uchiha! " A shriek snapped like lightning through the stillness.
The few candles providing light fluttered senseless golden shapes along the canvas as she whipped around. Jade eyes locked to the entrance of the tent. Behind her, the fallen scroll rolled off the edge and disappeared behind the table.
The chorus of crickets distorted. Quieting and warping into the screams that gradually rose above them in a crescendo of panic.
"No…" She murmured to herself in firm disbelief, eyes narrowing.
The sea of injured men stirred around her. Heads rising to attention. The name of their most hated and feared rival ripping them from even the deepest sleep like an alarm bell.
Her nails dug into the wooden edge at her back. Contracting in time with the tightening in her chest.
Some of them–the ones who could walk–struggled off their cots with painstaking effort. Heedless of their broken state. A ruffling of fabric hissed from every direction.
She rushed through them. A blur of green and pink nearly knocked Itama backwards to burst through the entrance and into the night.
Someone called to her in vain, demanding she wait.
She didn't listen.
Her feet propelled her down the main path through the rows of stalls and huts. The dark windows blinked to life one by one as candles and lanterns lit within. A steady roar of hysteria and rage colliding with what she now understood to be the screeching metal of swords and kunai deflecting one another filled the sky.
She ran faster.
A figure in white hesitated in a doorway ahead. Long blonde hair poking around the corner to peer into the direction of the chaos.
They were visible. Pairs of red eyes winking in and out of the night. Never in one place for long. Like a dance of elusive fireflies bathed in blood. Flitting closer in their systematic wave of destruction.
They met resistance, but not enough. Not fast enough or strong enough to push them back. The Senju's best fighters were kilometers away or in the medical tent, and the ones left behind were not prepared.
"Ino!" Sakura called to her.
The white figure was frozen. Watching the flurry of gleaming red winking through alleys and disappearing over rooftops. Some followed by Senju, and others giving their own chase.
One of them was close enough now to see. A black silhouette with a katana in each hand perched silently on the roof ahead of them. His head turned in their direction.
"INO!"
The girl visibly jumped and looked back at her friend sprinting forward, face sickly pale.
"Come on!" Sakura snatched her arm and hauled her out of the doorway. Feet skidding through dirt and launching them the opposite direction without waiting a beat.
"They're here… How? We're so far from the fight!" She said dazedly. Mind struggling to process through the fog of sleep.
"The scouts–"
"I don't know, but we need to go!" Sakura grit her teeth, racing as if they were trying to outrun a tsunami. In some ways, one would have been preferable. The tent was in sight. Her goal. What she did when they got there…she wasn't sure.
Where else would she go? Her sense of duty compelled her to stay. If they fled into the field, they were not only easier targets, but traitors. Maybe not in the same way a man would be, abandoning his post, but she was in a highly valued position that demanded responsibility and loyalty.
She was there until the end.
BOOM
A hunk of metal darted past her, speeding from her periphery and into her center of vision as if it was joining the race. So sharp she never felt it slice into her cheek. A barrage of miscellaneous debris flooded after. Ino's arm vanished, ripped from her grip just as gravity disappeared.
Weightless…and then she hit something solid and unyielding. Crumpling and tumbling wildly in spinning cloth and flailing limbs. The roar repositioned itself above her. Men shouting and cursing. Taunting and challenging one another.
Head jerking, she flicked her soiled hair out of her eyes. Looking up just in time to see an armored torso being flipped over another man's shoulder, right on top of her.
She rolled out of the way, too disoriented to tell where she or her friend had landed.
Something struck her in the side, sending her skidding with unnatural speed off the main path and crashing into an empty stall. Shelves above her splintered and rained down, burying her in a loose pile of wood.
"In–...Ino…" A dry cough choked out. The air filled with dust and smoke.
Smoke…?
Bits and boards of wood clattered around her as she jumped to her feet. Adrenaline masking the pain from injuries she didn't have the sense or the care to acknowledge.
An orange glow loomed into the sky like a premature sunrise. It smelled of bonfire and barbeque. She didn't let her mind linger on why.
Litter scattered clumsily as she stumbled out of the ruined structure. Eyes flickering around in search of her. The raucous screaming blended together into a barrage of indistinguishable words, agony, and retribution. Metal hummed and clanged around her, close enough now to make her flinch.
"In–" A wall of black rushed past her. Brushing across her chest and startling her with a flash of steel inches from her face. Fresh blood and sweat flooded her nose. Her eyes caught the signature red and white fan on the black haori as he passed, clashing into another Senju that had been sprinting towards them.
Sakura teetered sideways, nearly losing her balance in shock. Dizziness and nausea threatened her, but she shook her head.
"No…" The weakness was denied. Stopping now meant death.
She regained her footing and ran. Spinning and ducking through bodies engaged in combat. Narrowly missing the blade of a sword more than once, only because they weren't aiming for her.
Ino was gone. If she was smart, she'd do her best to stay out of the way and…hopefully be alright. It seemed women weren't the priority, at least for now, but fate could be easily tempted.
Pain lit up her joints as another solid object crushed into her shoulder, ramming her from the shadows of a narrow alleyway. It threw her into the air to collide with another body. She grunted, eyes cringing shut with no time to catch herself before a pair of hands gripped into her arms and hurled her out of the way.
She hit the ground again. Palms braced and arms locked to push herself back up. Barely noticing the bloody handprint dripping slowly down her forearm.
A sickening gurgle came from the man who'd just thrown her down. The ground pattered with dark, inky drops of blood raining from his abdomen. Flecks of crimson speckled her dusty hands, glittering in gold flecks cast by the firelight sourced from multiple explosions.
She didn't even have time to glance up. His knees hit the ground next to her, sword clattering from his palm and jutting beneath her face
A flash of reflective metal sliced an arc of gold through the air. His head fell next, thunking between his knees and wobbling away. Then the lifeless torso swayed down.
As his body fell away, the Uchiha was revealed before her.
Sakura gaped.
The blood pooled, steaming into the cool air and rushing from the prone body toppled next to her. The Senju symbols imprinted on the armor pointed to the sky. She couldn't tear her eyes away. She needed to. The sandals of his opponent were still there, facing her. Watching .
She couldn't move.
"Dis–...distraction…" The words muttered in a frail, dissociated whisper from her mouth. Tangled pink locks vibrated in a nervous tremble.
She realized what he'd done. He'd used her like an improvised prop as he darted from the alley to catch the man off guard, granting the opportunity for his own dismemberment.
A tortured wail shook her from her unwilling trance. A horrid, mournful sound that escalated into a screeching war-cry. Her wide eyes twitched up finally. There was a woman running straight for the Uchiha standing across from her.
Sakura understood the noise she made instantly. It was the kind that came from a loved one. Sister, daughter, wife…she didn't have the chance to figure it out. She never would.
The sharingan stared back at her, unaffected. A fixed glow between strands of choppy dark hair caked in congealed blood and soot. His attention never wavered. Never acknowledged the figure rushing him with a short blade held in a white-knuckle grip, lusting for his own throat.
There was a subtle shift in his weight. Knees bent. The blad twirled to the side, just in time for her to run herself through it. The screaming ceased.
The red gaze twitched down to the ground in front of Sakura, then back up. The limp woman slid down the edge of the blade and collapsed in a heap at his side. Blood flicked unceremoniously with a swift jerk. A crude way of cleaning.
Her eyes followed the path that his own took. Like him, never glancing at the other woman. She couldn't afford to. This wasn't the time to feel anything. Feeling would unravel her resolve and cloud her focus to a dangerous level. She needed to survive.
Ah, yes… The fallen Senju's sword. Lying idly right in front of her hands.
The dirt ground against her palms and knees as she slowly inched backwards. Moving with careful, tedious purpose.
A glance spared up at him and her breaths came shallow. Beads of sweat trickling from her temples and between her eyes, smearing into tiny specks of blood and painting them down her face. Some of it was her own, though it was the furthest from her mind. The gash on her cheek stung, mingling with the salt.
Creeping into a sitting position, her hands hovered off the ground. Far away from the sword.
He stared for another moment. Just long enough to stir the bile in her gut.
When his knees bent in a quick, fluid motion, she flinched. Fully expecting him to launch into her and deliver her own death. Instead, he disappeared into the sky. Sailing over a roof to an unknown destination.
A forceful, shaky gasp released from her chest. She held her breath without realizing.
Even then she didn't look. Eyes trained into the distance as she sought to return to her feet. Limbs reduced to uncoordinated jelly. Nothing moved the way she meant it to. The sword spun away with a clatter when she bumped in, and slowly rose into the air…
And immediately vomited.
The contraction of her stomach pulled her back down. Bile and partially digested curry splattered to the ground, mixing with the gore she refused to look at.
It wasn't the blood and violence itself that afflicted her. She would be a poor medic if that was the case. It was the horror. None of this was right. These weren't the tactics she was accustomed to. There were no rules. They weren't on a battlefield. Or had she simply been more naive than she believed all this time?
Her head swam and the acid burned her throat while she stumbled forward incoherently. Disorganized thoughts grappling with a purpose to focus on.
A hand anchored her shoulder from behind, pushing her gently to her knees a second time. A wave of sweat prickled beneath her tattered robes in fear.
"Stay down. Please…"
It was both stern and soft. An apology woven into an order that regretted the obedience it demanded. She glanced up at the unfamiliar male voice. The red glow of another Uchiha burned in the dark. The opposite of what she expected.
His eyes flit about like a hawk, taking in every shadow and movement. Assessing their surroundings for imminent threats. Metal clicked quietly at his side. His plated hand held a sword, pointed downward…cleaner than the last one she witnessed. A small mercy.
"Wh–why…" Sakura choked on the whisper, finding her own throat and tongue difficult to control. Her mouth was dry and tasted sour.
He looked down at her. One face blemished with scarce specks of dirt meeting another smudged in streaks of red and black. His hair was surprisingly orderly, compared to hers. A short black ponytail gathered at the nape of his neck. As if he wouldn't, or needn't, put in any true effort in his role. It either came too easily for him and he was untouchable, or he had taken a step back in the carnage.
"It is safer." The answer was simple, yet surreal to her ears.
A tornado of flames, shockwaves, and weapons were ripping their camp at the seams…and he dared deceive her with the promise of safety . There were a thousand scathing words she wanted to brand him with, but none of them came to her aid. All she could do was stare in wonder.
"Sakura! Run!"
The shout snapped the Uchiha's gaze away, and he disappeared in a flicker of movement. Metal clashed together, engaging the Senju that lunged towards them.
She didn't wait for what came next. The muscles in her legs sprang to life, sending her skidding and sprinting down the path with renewed adrenaline. Her coordination wasn't quite right still, but she was gaining momentum and that's all that mattered.
The flaps of the medical tent had been torn free. Cast to the ground in the blundering effort as the men inside staggered out into the chaos while she was gone. Half of the cots were long empty now.
"Itama… Don't."
The young man's face was twisted in pain as he took a step towards her silhouette looming in the entrance. The surprised glance he spared at the sound of her voice indicated he hadn't heard her arrival. Not a good sign, when she wasn't even trying to be stealthy.
His wounds weren't nearly mended enough for him to engage in anything but a pile of pillows. The damage to his internal organs had been severe. Ruptured by a domino of explosive tags he shouldn't have survived. She'd only begun to work on him yesterday. He was in no shape to fight.
He took in her bloodied face, and the stained and torn emerald robes that he once thought were pretty, even being so plain. An omen for what awaited beyond, but deceitfully tame.
"It isn't a choice, is it?" The rhetorical question was absent of the rage the choir at her back sang into the night. It was sullen, disappointed…but accepting.
"I'm not dying in a bed." He added more quietly, a hand reached for her shoulder as he forced himself forward. Gripping it tighter than he meant to in an unconscious bid to maintain his balance.
The taut lines drawn over his face in his silent struggle eased away. Falling slack as his deep brown eyes fixated on something behind her that made him blanch.
Sakura turned instinctively and saw him. Several meters away on the main path, but striking in his presence. The figure stalked through the violence churning around him. Like the eye of a hurricane, giving life to the indiscriminate destruction that couldn't touch him in return.
He deflected attacks with unsettling choreography, as if he understood the method and intent of each, seconds before they came, and had a practiced counter for every one that required no forethought on his part.
Kunai diverted with his own, sinking them back into their owners with precision that landed without him even looking in their direction. His sword disarmed another, twirling into shinobi and impaling them. Freeing itself with a swift kick. He stepped over their fallen bodies without pause.
"There you are." He called, voice rising above the discord like thunder. Loud, powerful, but reserved.
Fingers dug through the cloth of her shoulder, wrinkling it as Itama pulled her out of the way and took a haggard step through the gaping hole of the tent.
"Sakura, get out of here." His whisper shook, eyes blown wide in shock. Reality sinking in faster than he was prepared to handle. The scene was bleak. He knew what he'd be walking into, but there was always a sliver of hope.
Not anymore. Not with who he was facing down now. He was already dead. His body simply hadn't hit the ground yet.
"Itama… Let's finish this, hm?" The Uchiha paused with a curious amount of space left between them. A hard gleam locked with the Senju, as if nothing else existed. He didn't even glance at her, despite how close she stood to him.
Until she darted between them, putting enough space between her and Itama that he couldn't easily grab her a second time. Trembling hands clasped wordless in front of her, forming a symbol, and hesitating on the trigger.
The red gaze flickered over her briefly. Narrowing in doubt at the wisp of a woman looking as if she were a hair's breadth from collapsing in exhaustion.
"I am Uchiha Izuna…and I advise you to move, medic ." His cold words urged her with an unspoken promise that he didn't care whether she listened or not.
"I don't care who you are." Sakura seethed through clenching teeth, staring him down while her body trembled with the will to remain upright.
Silence.
The ghost of a smile crept on his face. Something came to life in the flicker of his pupils as he considered her. Seeing her.
"You will." His voice dropped to a conversational tone. Confident, and so full of ice.
She followed the shift of his sandals as he angled to the side, sword-arm swinging back while his free hand lifted to his mouth. His fingers pressed to his lips and then made a subtle gesture towards her. As if blowing a kiss.
A pearl of flame twinkled to life between them, and then she was blinded.
Bleached by the intensity of the light, the fireball was large enough that she couldn't see it for what it was. Only a wall of white rushing toward them like a supernova. Incinerating heat preceding a shockwave.
The arm outstretched behind her never made contact. The sound of her name was forever swallowed in the assault.
Her hands squeezed a fraction of a second before the blast hit. The wall of flame smashed into a flash of pale blue light. Ballooning like a transparent shield around them, high into the sky and outward in a curved perimeter that nearly matched the volume of the fire.
Then it was gone. Existence blinking into a void of nothingness.
Pressure in her throat.
Something prodded her lightly. Enough to pluck the barest sense back to life, but it was fleeting. She drifted in and out of consciousness. Briefly registering how cold she was, yet possessing no awareness of her physical body.
Except for the fingers on her throat. They palpated the weak, thready pulse of her jugular.
There was no sound. A silence claimed her like nothing she experienced before. Then the soft, high-pitched ringing faded in. When her eyes opened, she didn't trust what they saw.
His sharingan was gazing down at her as he knelt. The man with the clean hair. It was…dirtier now. Coated in a light layer of dust and sticky with dried blood. His ponytail slid over his shoulder and dangled above her.
The eyes spoke for him with an unusual hint of sadness seeping through the stoicism.
You should have stayed down.
An arm shifted, and she felt the rubble beneath and around her. Shattered wood and smoldering canvas, blankets, and other organic material. A curtain of black drifted endlessly up into the sky. Shrouding the stars from view. The heat of flames bathed her from somewhere close by. She registered them, and vaguely wondered why they didn't provide any warmth.
Something warm trickled from her ears, beading down her jaw and swooping back into her hairline.
The Uchiha's head snapped over his shoulder, listening to something in the distance. She saw his lips moving, but never found his words.
When he looked back down at her, he watched a violently shaking hand spark with a weak healing glow reach for her head. He caught her wrist, startling her, and guided the hand to cup her ear.
She regarded him in the barest mixture of suspicion and awe. Too disoriented and weak to process what happened, but she was trying. The fact that she was alive at all shocked him beyond comprehension.
She was the only one who was, and unfortunately, she would see for herself when he lifted her into his arms with a sweeping motion beneath her knees and shoulders.
Turning in a half-circle, a field of broken and charred corpses fanned around them. Crackling in flames that licked at the remnants, eating them into ash and sending them heavenward in twinkling sparks of orange and red. Itama lay among them. Remarkably intact in comparison, but his lifeless eyes stared unseeing into the smoke.
Her eyes fought to stay open. The sensation of floating in an ocean as she glided above the ground was soothing. Betraying. She had to stay conscious. She needed to get away.
And to where…
What was left?
Her eyes slipped shut in defeat. The only comfort she found was in the unpleasant tingling of her ear as it began to mend itself enough to grant her hearing. It wouldn't be perfect for a while, but something was better than nothing.
"You breed like rabbits." A low tone rattled her back into focus. Cutting her off from the brink of sleep she hadn't realized she was sinking into yet again. The first sound she heard since Izuna spoke to her. Coincidentally, this one belonged to him as well.
Her stomach churned as the arms repositioned her, setting her down smoothly to the ground. She coiled into a seated position with her calves tucked under her. It took every fiber of her strength to keep from planting face-first into the earth the moment she was released, and she barely registered the hand slipping along her skin. Pulling the sleeve of her robe back up to cover an exposed shoulder and much of her chest. The tasuki was long gone.
"Faster than I can kill you." The voice mused aloud. Pacing feet passed her field of vision. The glint of a freshly cleaned sword drew her attention up, and her eyes followed the retreating red and white fan that sauntered away from her. Guiding her to the two columns of women all seated in a similar fashion. Sakura sat at the end of one. The other was lined directly across from her. Effectively creating a path between them for Izuna to trace down while he addressed them.
With great effort, her hand reached for the opposite ear now. Lighting it up in the sputtering glow that fought against her own willpower. Demanding she rest before exerting more energy.
Being deaf was the kinder option.
She could hear them now. The few sobs of despair. Sniffles from others. Not all of them made noise. Some waited with the rigid discipline of true shinobi. Intent to mask their emotions in the face of the enemy.
Sakura's mind quieted when her wandering gaze landed on Ino, sitting across from her and a few paces down the line. She was already staring back in earnest, remarkably untouched. She must have found a place to hide from the worst of the damage.
A short cry ripped their attention away. She looked to see the body of a woman slump forward over Izuna's blade. One precise and efficient stab, and she was gone.
"It's time we culled your herd." The words fell bitterly.
Sakura stared mute. The final blow of shock strangled the last of her emotions into obsolescence.
She couldn't do it anymore. She was so tired.
Vision blurred as her eyes unfocused of their own accord. A woman was screaming. Yelling insults and curses. Another crumpled down into tears. The one directly across from her bolted to her feet and ran into the night. Splitting through the swaying blue grass that reached her waist. One of the Uchiha standing sentinel around them dropped her with a single kunai, and she was absorbed into the rolling earthen sea without a sound.
Tick…
Tick…
Thunk.
The sword drifted past them one by one. A tick of his thumb tapping the grip for every one he spared, and a thunk for each destined to pass from this world as the razor edge found its lethal mark. A quick death the only mercy it could give.
There was a pattern. One he didn't try to hide. Every third woman fell. Some of them caught on immediately. They tried to run in vain, or fight the wall of men that corralled them. None of them succeeded.
By the time he was halfway to the end of her column, she counted her place. Number three.
She smiled in surrender, and her eyes closed. Listening to the rhythmic slaughter making its way steadily towards her. All but forgetting the man who lifted her with exceptional care from the burning debris not long ago.
He stood at her back, eyes glazed in barely contained hatred and revulsion at what was taking place before them.
This wasn't part of the plan.
He never wanted to be here to begin with, but this… This was too much.
Next to him, a younger man stood with his head tilted down at a slight angle. Just low enough to shield his eyes with a veil of black hair. His chest rose and fell in deep, ragged heaves. Fighting the same internal moral dilemma, but unable to mask its effect quite as well.
The pinky of his hand was pulled lightly to the side, looped by his brother's. A wordless exchange that cemented him in place.
Tick…
Tick…
…
The blood-soaked steel grazed her throat. Its broad side pressing to her skin and squeezing a line of red to streak down and disappear beneath the green cloth covering her chest. Then it lifted and passed curiously through her hair. Pink locks tumbling over the slick edge and slicing some of them to fall into her lap.
Ino's hands were gripping into her robes, and then she burst from her seated position. Throwing herself at Izuna with an uncharacteristic shriek of rage that snapped Sakura's eyes wide open.
Sakura moved without thinking. Bare hand striking like a snake to grip the blade as it swung away from her and towards her friend.
It sliced into her palm like hot butter, and the only reason it didn't sever her completely was because the man hadn't turned with the intent to kill. Rather, the sole of his sandal collided with Ino, shooting her backwards to tumble past the column of waiting women and into the grass. She was seized instantly by another Uchiha, and wrestled down into her original place with his hand wrapped around her ponytail, holding her still at the top of her head.
Izuna's gaze bathed her in cold fire. Eyes settling on the hand holding his sword at bay, blood rushing from her palm and into the dirt between them.
"I'm your third." Sakura hissed in anger, enough emotion returning to hold him in a glare.
"You are… something ." He murmured, speculating.
A weighing glance shot to Ino and her twisted expression of pain, and then back to her.
The sword slid from her grip at his guidance, and she winced as the edge cut deeper before she released it out of reflex. Her bloody palm clenched tightly into her lap.
"She could be useful."
The voice behind her suggested coolly.
He flicked his gaze up to Itachi.
"You saw that barrier?" Izuna hummed. A question he didn't need answered. Almost everyone saw the barrier she made. A flash of wild chakra that needed to be tempered. Raw power that held promise. It surprised even him.
Izuna looked down to her, reading the fury in her eyes that wavered in a slip of uncertainty and anticipation.
He turned, shadow looming over Ino as he reached a hand for her. The girl tensed. A single finger pressed under her chin.
"Up."
The hand unwound itself from her ponytail, and she rose on shaking knees.
"Go. Tell your leader what I've done here. Tell him another son is dead, and if he wants his medic…he can come get her."
Ino spared a glance to her. Disbelieving eyes sparkling in grief. Vaguely understanding in that moment that they would both see another sunrise.
But at what cost?
"Now." His growl made her jump. Snapping her from her hesitation, and sending her sprinting down the path of waiting women and corpses, splashing through puddles of cooling blood and into the sea of blue.
Sakura watched her form disappear into the murky shades. Relief, dread, and amazement coiling together and making her head swirl. Oblivious to the shrewd eyes above considering her for a moment longer.
Then he moved on. The second column awaited.
Tick…
Tick…
Thunk.
His shadow passed in front of her a second time as he made his way down the opposite direction. Wet iron flooded them, drowning any other scent in the area, with the exception of burning wood filtering in.
Finally, she lost the battle, and fell forward into the earth with a limp thud .
Izuna paused to glance back at her prone body. His eyes lifted to Itachi, giving a single nod of his head.
For a second time, he knelt to scoop her into his arms.